Russian Roulette

Russian Roulette

“I don’t think is such a good idea…”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s a great idea! I mean, what the hell could go wrong?”

“A lot.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just you watch. This’ll be the best damn New Year’s party the Turks’ve ever seen and it’ll all be thanks to me!”

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Sunglasses-covered eyes watched as the door in front of them slammed closed, the wood just barely missing his nose. “You were saying?” he said as he glanced over to his companion. The younger man had a rather down-beaten appearance to him. “Reno?”

“He… didn’t wanna come with us? That cheap bastard! I ought’a go drag his ass out here, huh?” Green eyes aflame with determination, Reno turned his attention to his partner rather than the door.

“I… don’t suggest it.” Glancing down, the taller man checked his watch. They still had a half-hour until they were expected at the company party meaning that there was a half-hour available for Reno to pester the ex-Turk into joining them. “He didn’t seem too happy to see us here.”

Raising a hand to rub his temple, Rude turned to look at the other. Except… Reno wasn’t there. “Reno?” Frustration began to rise in the man and he huffed quietly. “Reno!” he hissed warningly. “Where are you?”

“Hey! Check this out!”

Rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, Rude moved around the corner of the small house and spotted his flame-haired partner. “What in the world are you doing?”

Squeezing the upper-half of his body back through the window to the cellar, Reno grinned. “I found a way in, yo.” He pointed toward the window. “Think I can make it through?”

“Reno, this is ridiculous. Just give up and we’ll—“

“I think I can do it. Here, hold this.” Shoving his EMR at the other Turk, Reno grinned. “Don’t break it, okay?”

“I… don’t believe I’ve ever broken anything of yours,” Rude mumbled as he took the weapon in hand, glad the redhead had actually remembered to turn the thing off this time. He wasn’t sure how many times the EMR had been forced into his possession still on, ready to give him a fairly strong shock.

“Oh yeah. Guess that’s me. Just hang out here then and make sure no one comes after me, okay?” Stripping off his jacket, he handed that as well to the other before ducking down and squeezing through the window.

Once Reno had actually managed to get inside the cellar, smiling green eyes peeked back up. “Everything look good?”

“Reno, we’re not on a job. You’re just breaking into Valentine’s house because you have nothing better to do.” Folding the jacket over his arm and the weapon now in his possession, Rude shook his head.

“Hey. I’m not breaking in ‘cause I have nothing else to do. I’m breaking in ‘cause he won’t stop being an emo little bastard and come with us.” The redhead disappeared into the darkness again.

Rude just stood there and shook his head. He could hear crashes inside that gave away how well Reno was doing without a light to guide him. Wincing at a particularly loud smashing sound, the man rubbed his temple and decided to go find a place in the local tavern to sit. No doubt his partner was going to be a while if he even made it out alive.

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“Shit… dark in here…” Something snagged Reno’s boot toe and he stumbled forward with a yelp, crashing to the floor. “Shiiiiiit!” Clapping a hand over his mouth, the Turk paused to see if anyone possibly heard him. It was hard to believe no one had, but he couldn’t really help it. “Who the hell keeps all this stuff everywhere in a cellar anyway?”

“Me.”

The dark voice sent a shiver down Reno’s back and he stiffened at the feel of a gun barrel pressing against the back of his head. “Uh… hey, Vince. How’s it going?”

“It was going decently until you showed up and decided to break in.” A click echoed in the room and Reno swallowed hard. If there was one sound he knew well, it was the sound of a gun being cocked. “Now are you honestly going to insist that you still want me to go to this little party of yours?”

“I… yeah.”

Leather on metal made Reno wince a bit, but not as much as the empty slamming of the hammer on a nonexistent cartridge. “You’re lucky I knew it was you and didn’t bother to load this.” Fingers curled into the thin cloth of the Turk’s shirt, yanking him up. “But don’t expect me to take that courtesy again.”

The redhead nodded briefly, figuring Vincent could see him perfectly well. After all, the guy was a little weird in that way. From what Reno had heard, the red-eyed man could do much more than the usual human, thanks to a few months in Hojo of Shinra’s care nearly thirty-some years ago. When his shirt was released and his breathing suddenly became much easier, he sat up and tried to make some sense of the darkness surrounding him. Green eyes were slowly adjusting and he could vaguely make out the shape of Vincent standing and moving away. “Hey, wait a minute. I’m not done ye—“

“You really have to be joking, you know.” The shape stopped moving, presumably to turn toward him. “You’re pushing your luck more than you know.”

“But…” Scrambling to his feet, Reno set his jaw. He wasn’t leaving until he got some sort of answer besides “no” from the man.

A hand shoved against his chest and Reno stumbled backward, tripping again and falling with a thump to his back. He grunted as the air was knocked out of him and his head came close to hitting the cement floor. “The hell?” he gasped out, stiffening as a strong hand gripped his wrist. Wincing, the red-haired man stared up into the glinting crimson eyes.

“You should have left when given the choice.” Vincent’s deep voice rumbled through the darkness as the constricting grip tightened more, the cold metal of razor-sharp claws grasping Reno’s other wrist. “I hope you can take your punishment for not listening to me the first time that I said no.”

Green eyes narrowed. He had nothing to say in return, simply making a startled sound when he heard a satisfied grunt from Vincent as both wrists were transferred under one hand. The ex-Turk was unbelievably strong and Reno felt nearly helpless as he tried to struggle against his restraint, gaining no success. “Bastard,” he mumbled, just a little annoyed that he was being so easily overpowered.

“You brought this upon yourself.” The scant light coming through the still-open window flashed off of golden metal as Vincent grasped the strip of plastic that had caught his attention. In one quick motion he had rolled Reno onto his stomach and, ignoring the yelp of protest from the Turk, had pulled his arms around and fastened the zip tie around the other’s wrists, drawing it tight until the other could no longer move his hands apart. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You’re likely to make things worse for yourself.”

“What the hell’re you doing, yo?” Squirming, Reno lifted his head quickly, hoping to hit the dark-haired man somehow. He disliked the situation more and more, almost to the point of regretting breaking in. “Get the fuck off of me already and let me go!”

“Let me ask you something, Reno.”

The redhead stopped abruptly. “What?” he asked, not all that sure if he wanted to hear the question. The pressure on his back where Vincent’s knee had rested disappeared and he turned his head to look over his shoulder, seeing little more than the man’s shape behind him. “What?”

A whir and a series of clicks was his response, a sound he recognized quite well as someone spinning the chamber on a handgun. “Do you know how many times you can win in Russian Roulette?”

“Russian…” Reno winced a little, wondering what the gunner had planned for him. “What kinda gun?”

“Standard six-chamber.” A solid snap gave away the fact that the cylinder had been flicked closed. “Much like this one.”

Swallowing, the redhead took a breath since the restriction on his back was now gone. “Five times. ‘Cause there’s only supposed to be one bullet so there’re only five empty spots.” His voice was surprisingly steady figuring on how uncertain he was of his fate. He wasn’t particularly scared, but he was nervous.

“Good. Now get up.” Leather-clad fingers wrapped around the zip tie and pulled hard, pain flaring through Reno’s shoulders as they were wrenched into a bad angle. “Come on. I don’t have all night.”

Clenching his teeth and ignoring the ache he knew would be in his shoulders later, the redhead somehow managed to his knees, another yank prodding him to his feet. His balance was offset by Vincent’s grip on the restriction around his wrists and he had to actually try to stay upright. He wasn’t all that unfamiliar with having his hands bound behind his back, but he didn’t exactly like the fact that it was being done by the gunner this time. The man was far too unpredictable.

“Come on.” Vincent pulled once more, nearly knocking Reno off of his feet.

Catching his balance, the Turk turned and glared at the gunman the best he could. “Where’re we going?” he asked, indignation spicing his voice. He certainly didn’t want to seem too willing of cooperative, especially with the way he was being treated so far.

“Upstairs. I’m tired of being down here and besides…” The faint light gave away the slight smirk that appeared on Vincent’s lips. “I want to play a little game.”

Reno frowned, his nose crinkling a bit. “I’m not afraid of playing Russian Roulette, if that’s where you’re getting, yo.” He sent an obstinate look at the other man. “Not like I ain’t played it before. If you’re thinking of bluffing me into leaving, you’re wrong and it ain’t gonna work.” He was half-telling the truth. So what if his only experience with the game of luck had been from his side alone since every slot had been filled when the other fired upon himself. Vincent didn’t need to know that.

A soft chuckle sounded, one that made the hairs lining the back of Reno’s neck stand up. “I’m not planning on bluffing.” Another yank and the gunman’s shape started moving toward what Reno assumed was the entrance to the rest of the house. Since his bound hands were still in possession of the other man, he had little choice other than to follow, cringing and squeezing his eyes shut as he was half-dragged into the bright light of the house. “Stop lagging. You’ll only put me in a worse mood and I honestly doubt you want that.”

Reno swallowed hard, not liking the tone of Vincent’s voice. He had always known the guy had a temper and didn’t like company, but he had never thought the gunman treated what company he got like this. “From that smirk, I’d say you’re in a pretty damn good mood so what’s ruining it a little?” He had a smirk of his own on his lips, just to spite the gunman.

Vincent’s expression fell to an annoyed frown and he spun the redhead around to grasp his shirt, hauling him forward. “Just keep your mouth shut and you’ll stay out of trouble.” Pulling out a kitchen chair as he passed, the gunman whipped Reno around and shoved him into the wooden seat, watching with a hard gaze as the chair scooted backward from the force and the redhead nearly doubled over with shock.

“The fuck?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay quiet?” In a matter of seconds, the crimson band had been removed from Vincent’s hair and wrapped around the Turk’s wrists, binding him to the chair.

Testing the bond when he regained his senses, Reno jutted his chin out with a huff. The knots were tied too tight and expertly for him to wriggle loose and there was no other way to get away for the moment. “What’re you gonna do?” he said with a bit of an impetuous tone. He hadn’t actually meant to ask the question, but it had slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

“I haven’t quite decided yet.” Crossing his arms, the burgundy-eyed man stood there and simply watched Reno. “You won’t be able to escape if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m not,” came Reno’s growled reply. “I’m just thinking of what you might be planning in that head of yours, yo. Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Vincent snorted softly, the sound unhindered by his not-present cloak. Reno had to admit that he was a little surprised the man wasn’t wearing the red garment, but at least he had an easier time of telling the gunman’s emotions now that he could see all of his face. Not that it was helping him much. He was still drawing a blank as to what he might be tied to a chair for. He could understand that he had broken in, but all that warranted was getting kicked out again or a call to the cops. At least it did in his world. Obviously Vincent’s was drastically different.

The green gaze flicked down when light flashed off of silver metal. He felt a little better now that he knew where the gun Vincent had previously held to his head and had spoken of was now, tucked into the gunman’s waistline. “So what’re you gonna do? Just have me sit here and look stupid?”

“As entertaining as that would be, I think this game will be played out a little differently.” A small smirk came across the gunman’s face as he stepped forward. A quick motion of his hand allowed him to grab a piece of clothesline hanging on the wall as he passed and the raven-haired man ran it through his hands as he continued on.

“What’s that for? You’ve already got me tied up here.” The redhead tipped his head up in defiance. “Not like I’m going—hey! What the hell!” He struggled as strong hands parted his legs, the rope securing his ankles to the chair legs before he could do anything about it. “What’s that for?”

Vincent stood, his eyes dark. “I’m just making sure you can’t fight back.” Tossing the remaining rope he had cut loose onto the kitchen table, the gunner moved his attention to the Turk. The green eyes had a slightly worried look in them, but he wasn’t about to start thinking about that. The boy needed to be taught a lesson, one that he wouldn’t forget. “It’s actually a shame that I do need to restrain you,” he said softly as he returned to stand in front of Reno. “Now I have to do the work here. But… it’s better than having you refuse your punishment.”

“What the hell’re you spouting off about? Sheesh, didn’t know living alone made guys crazy like this.” A sudden grip on his cherry-red ponytail made him cringe, the force of the yank pulling his head up. “Kidding! I’m kidding!”

“We’ll see how much you joke when I’m done with you, Reno.” The Turk’s name slid off of Vincent’s tongue a little too smoothly and a shiver ran down the man’s back. His hair was released and he glared up at his captor. It certainly felt like a game, but more like cat and mouse than Russian Roulette. And Reno hated being the mouse.

“Yeah? Show me your worst, old man,” he retorted with a grin. There was no way he was going to let Vincent just have his fun on his own terms. Of course, he also couldn’t do anything until he knew what the ex-Turk was planning.

His answer came soon enough though when Vincent smoothly slipped between the redhead’s spread legs, the fingers of his human hand toying with the collar of Reno’s shirt. “Such a nice piece of clothing. It’s a shame you wear it with such disgrace and that I have to destroy it.” The sound of ripping cloth echoed through the room as the tip of a golden claw sliced cleanly through the white fabric. It parted under Vincent’s fingers, his nails tipped inward to scratch the pale skin he uncovered.

Reno grimaced and tried to arch away from the touches, only succeeding in bringing himself closer. The way Vincent was watching him was unnerving, not to mention the way those fingers were traveling over his skin. When the gunman dipped enough to run sharp teeth over the other’s earlobe, the point of his being tied up became clear. He was trapped there for sex, or at least something very close.

The idea was disturbing, but he was relieved that it wasn’t something worse. There were a number of things that he would choose sex over so he couldn’t say he was complaining. The fact that it was Vincent doing it was what made him uneasy. He had no idea exactly what the man might choose to do. He squirmed a bit as a warm tongue ran over his ear, a shiver running down his back. If he had no other choice in the matter, he may as well enjoy what he was being forced to go through. He wasn’t about to let Vincent have all the pleasure there.

The somewhat forgotten fingers on Reno’s chest twitched and drew downward, red lines following where nails scratched his skin. Cherry-red hair fell over his shoulder as his head tipped to the side, the touches making him draw in a short breath. The gunman’s hand was moving steadily downward, hot breath caressing his neck as teeth grazed over the curve of his ear. He still was a little unsure about his situation, but he wasn’t going to back out now. Not that he could if he wanted to, but at least he could pretend to fight back.

Reno’s back arched as sharp claws traced down his stomach, scoring angry red welts where they crossed. The sensation of hot blood welling up made him wince, but not as much as when sharp teeth grazed his neck and bit down to pierce his skin. Just as he felt Vincent lick across the injured spots, fingers dipped below his belt, flicking the buckle loose. A ragged gasp came from the Turk’s mouth as the heavy buckle fell open and his pants followed suit, a leather-clad hand pressing flat to venture under the thick cloth.

“Not expecting that?” Vincent’s voice rumbled against Reno’s throat, the vibrations causing goose bumps to rise across his body.

Swallowing hard, Reno turned his head to shove the other’s away. “Fuck off. I saw that coming a mile away,” he growled in return.

The gunman chuckled, the sound low and dark to Reno’s ears. “Is that so? Clever, aren’t you?” His hand moved lower, fingers wrapping around sensitive flesh. Green eyes closed and the younger man groaned softly. “What, enjoying this?”

“The hell you think?” Reno hissed through clenched teeth, his hips shifting as he both tried to get away and get closer to the hand touching him. “You’re the one with your hand stuck down there. Feel like I’m enjoying it or not?”

“I see what you’re talking about…” Vincent’s lips brushed the redhead’s light skin as his grip tightened, wrenching a loud groan from Reno. He knew exactly how painful his grasp was and smirked. “Don’t get smart with me, Reno. You’ll regret it.”

Taking a shuddering breath, the Turk just grinned. “You’re a goddamned bastard…” At Vincent’s somewhat questioning look, he just grinned more. “You forgot who you’re dealing with. I’m a Turk. We like pain. We like giving it and we like getting it. That’s part of being a damned Turk. Or did you forget that too?”

Ebony brows creased heavily. “I didn’t forget because I was never like you. I was a Turk when we were still proud of what we did. We weren’t just the common scoundrel hit men that people like you have turned the group into.” His grip tightened more, his nose crinkling as he brushed his teeth dangerously close to Reno’s throat. “It’s a good thing you like pain because you’re going to be getting quite a lot right here.”

“Good. Bring it on, yo,” Reno replied with a smirk. “Told ya before, I can take whatever you throw at me.”

Dark burgundy eyes flashed away, hidden behind a fall of raven hair. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Finally releasing Reno’s length, he made a few good strokes against the warm flesh. He could hear the redhead’s breathing hitch and he snorted, not all that satisfied that his captive was getting more pleasure from everything than him.

Hearing the quick breath from the man hovering near his ear, Reno smirked again. “This ain’t about me breaking in, is it? It’s about the fact that I’m a Turk and you’re not anymore.” Sucking in a hard gasp, he let his eyes close as leather pressed against a few pressure points. “You hate me ‘cause I’m doing what you used to. I heard about your record. You were the best there was but now no one wants you back. You’re not need—ah!” He squeezed his eyes shut, tears building in the corners of his eyes at the incredibly constricting grip around his length. “Fucker…” he managed to hiss out between his clenched teeth.

“You should watch your mouth,” Vincent whispered darkly in Reno’s ear. He slowly released his grip again, forcing the Turk’s slacks down enough to slip the younger man’s half-erect length free.

Emerald eyes opened just enough to look down and see the black glove cradling flushed flesh. The sharp canine teeth toying with his earlobe kept him reminded of exactly how much danger he was in. His throat constricted with a swallow as he felt the hot breath of Vincent’s whisper washing over the injuries on his neck. “Click…”

Russet brows creased at the word. He didn’t quite understand what was meant by it, but he wasn’t about to ask and upset the other any more. To prod him until he snapped was just a bad idea in general, not to mention that there was still a gun tucked in the gunman’s waistline. He had no idea how many bullets the thing had and he didn’t want to find out any time soon.

Reno’s slow torture didn’t stop, more scrapes appearing over his skin as Vincent’s fingers raced over heated skin. From the quickened breaths flowing over his neck, the ex-Turk was obviously getting his kicks as well though the redhead wasn’t sure how. The only thing his mind could figure was that the other got off on watching other’s squirm, whether from pleasure or pain.

Arching as he felt sticky warmth spread over his erection, Reno gasped. He was close and no doubt the gunman knew that as well. Sure enough, just as the younger man felt himself about to hit his limit, that constricting grip returned, making him shout from pain. The need to come was stripped away by the grasp around the base, a low chuckle rumbling near his ear as the other moved to grab the leftover rope from tying him to the chair.

He was only able to suck in a quick breath as a tight knot pressed against his skin, a few loops making sure he wasn’t going to orgasm until Vincent said so. It made him grimace as another chuckle sounded. He was under the gunman’s complete control and could do little aside from deal with it.

To say he was surprised when the razor edge of a golden claw sliced through the bindings around his ankles and legs. “The hell?” he mumbled as a quick motion also released the crimson cloth that had kept his wrists secured to the chair. He didn’t move and instead sat there with a confused look on his face as Vincent rounded the chair to stand in front of him. “What’re you up to?”

“Get up.” The man’s tone was harsh and Reno almost cringed. “I said get up,” Vincent repeated when the Turk didn’t respond right away. Crimson eyes watched as the other slowly stood, his hands still bound behind his back, the plastic strip tight enough to dig into the skin.

“Good. Now stand over there,” the gunman ordered, moving around him as Reno carefully made his way to where the taller man had stood, just barely managing to keep his pants up. When Vincent had approached the chair the redhead had just left, he sat and leaned back. “Come closer. Stop, right there.” He had halted the other about a foot away before pointing to the floor. “On your knees.”

Reno frowned, his nose crinkling as he sank to his knees. He hated authority, especially when it was directed toward him. The only problem was that he had little other choice than to do what Vincent wanted. Looking up, his eyes full of obstinacy. “What now, Master?” he snapped out.

A smirk rode on Vincent’s lips as his right hand idly flicked the latch on his belt buckle. “I think you can figure it out,” he said smoothly as he finished opening the leather restriction of his pants. Slowly pulling his hardening erection out and sliding his palm against the warm skin, he jerked his head back to silently order Reno closer. “Well?”

The emerald gaze flicked down to where the black-clad hand slid against flushed skin. He bit the inside of his cheek as he carefully inched forward on his knees and focused on the long fingers curling around the gunner’s length. “And,” Vincent started, drawing Reno’s eyes up, “don’t try anything stupid. Well, don’t do anything stupid unless you want a bullet between your eyes.” A soft scraping sound reached the redhead’s ears as the revolver was pulled free from the elder’s waistband, the barrel set lightly against the skin under the strands of ruby hair.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Reno replied quietly, not sure where his defiant voice had gone. His eyes moved back down and he swallowed once more before dipping his head and parting his lips to brush his tongue against the underside of the head. When he was fairly sure that the trigger wasn’t going to be pulled unless he messed up, he relaxed some and glance upward as he slowly took the gunner’s length into his mouth.

A satisfied yet commanding look settled on Vincent’s face and he tipped his head to the side to watch better. He found something entrancing about the hesitant way the Turk was swallowing him down, soft hair falling over the cold steel of the handgun. Light glinted off of metal as he moved his other hand, the smooth claw tips sliding through the ruddy locks. A hard tug rewarded him with a groan, the vibrations traveling up the redhead’s throat making him shiver. “You’re not half bad,” he commented quietly, his head tipping back as he enjoyed the caresses of Reno’s throat.

He received no response though since Reno was aware of the possibility that stopping and answering might get him shot. Since he wasn’t looking forward to the idea of attending his own funeral the next day, he kept his mouth where it was, only pulling back to take a quick breath. The sharp tips scratched his nape and he groaned again as his hair was pulled, swallowing hard and earning his own bit of a moan from the gunman.

The Turk slowly let his mind fade out as he kept going, salty precome sliding down the back of his throat. He had to fight the urge to clear his throat, only doing so by swallowing hard once more and bringing another moan from Vincent. The barrel of the revolver pressed against his forehead more until a harsh whisper of “click” slipped from the elder’s lips and he arched.

Reno’s eyes squeezed shut as the tips against his scalp pricked through the skin and he just barely managed to swallow as hot come spilled down his throat. He didn’t dare pull back until the he felt the pain lessen as the heavy gauntlet moved away. Leaning back as quickly as possible, Reno gulped down a breath and fought the need to cough. The taste lingered on the back of his tongue and he coughed again to try and rid himself of it with no success.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed as he watched the redhead, the man’s once decently white shirt now stained with jagged lines and splotches of red. A bruise was rising where he had pressed the gun to the Turk’s head and the younger man looked all the world like someone who had given up. The smirk on Vincent’s face fell as a green gaze lifted to look him in the eye, a sick smile on Reno’s lips. “Whatcha got next?” he asked in retaliation, determined not to give the other the pleasure of seeing him defeated.

“You’re too cocky for your own good,” Vincent mumbled as he stood and stepped close enough to grasp Reno’s chin, pulling up hard. A wince crossed the man’s face, but it disappeared almost as soon as it had shown, replaced by the smile from moments before. “Wipe that idiot grin off of your face. It’s not going to help you.”

Licking his lips, the redhead opened his mouth to respond, only to have his head snap to the side. His jaw exploded with pain where the revolver had hit him, the ache racing through him and making him sink to the floor. “Get up. I won’t have you lying on my floor acting like a beaten dog.” A quick yank to the binding around Reno’s wrists made him bite his lip to hold back a yelp, blood seeping through to mix with the taste of semen.

The defiant look still alive in his eyes, Reno stumbled to his feet and glared at Vincent. A thin stream of blood was flowing over his chin, but he could do nothing about it with his hands tied and he would be damned if he asked the gunman to wipe it away for him. A steady ache was building in his jaw and he shifted it a bit, wincing a little as he did.

“Good. You haven’t given up.” The elder gave a snort, his smirk returning. “Perhaps you are fit to be a Turk. It’s just a shame you can’t be a true Turk. They don’t exist anymore.” Shoving at the redhead’s back, Vincent watched as Reno staggered forward. “That way,” he directed, grasping a bruised wrist and wrenching it to the side when the other started in the wrong direction.

Glaring over his shoulder, the green eyes flashed. He was certainly glad he had just irked Vincent. He wasn’t sure he would have wanted to meet the elder when he was an active Turk. The man definitely knew his tactics to make someone want to beg for mercy. Unfortunately for him though, it took a lot to make Reno drop to his knees and beg. “Fuck off, Valentine,” he growled out, receiving a response in the form of a kick to his backside that left him stumbling and crashing to the floor.

The tight grasp returned around his wrists, hauling him to his feet. The redhead was almost astounded at the strength that Vincent seemed to possess, but he kept his subtle amazement silent as he was shoved forward again. “Shut up and walk.”

“I’m walking, you fuck head,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low enough so he himself almost didn’t hear it. He turned his eyes back to the path before him and blinked a few times as he was directed into a darker room. After a few moments he managed to make out something that might have been a bed, his confirmation coming as another kick to his backside sent him reeling onto it.

The softness surprised him and he just lay there, bent over the bed and half-kneeling against it. Only when he heard Vincent moving around behind him and saw the elder out of the corner of his eye did he come to his senses and look up. He wasn’t completely sure of what the other was doing, but he knew better than to move from where he was.

Vincent rounded the bed, pulling his glove free and tossing it idly onto the bed. He glanced over at the bruised and scraped Turk. The look in the younger man’s eyes didn’t fit with his condition. He was too confident. Turning, the gunman hid a small smile. At least the other hadn’t just given up like he had expected him to. That would have made things much more boring if there was no fight left in him at all.

Green eyes flicked back up at the sound of rummaging and Reno just managed to catch the vague sight of Vincent pulling a small bottle from his bedside drawer. He snorted quietly. “Didn’t think you were supposed to use that when you’re forcing someone,” he mumbled.

The scarlet gaze moved to the man, giving him chills. “You know better than I do that it’s only partially forced. You seem to be cooperating well enough and enjoying it while you’re at it.” Letting out a long breath, Vincent tossed the bottle in the air a few times, his eyes never leaving Reno’s. “And I’m not about to cause myself pain for you. You’re not worth it.”

“Not worth it? Weren’t you just going on about me being pretty good or something like—“ He clamped his mouth shut, biting down on his bottom lip as the butt of the revolver connected with the back of his head.

A quick grip tugged his ponytail back as he felt Vincent lean over him, hot breath washing over his ear. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up? If I wanted to hear something from you, I would say so.” He gave another sharp pull to the cherry-red locks, only letting go when Reno gasped out a groan of pain.

“Was never good at listening,” the subdued redhead muttered, wincing as he felt the barrel of the gun dig into his back and a rough hand pull his slacks to his knees. “You think that scares me? You’re getting weak, Valentine. Not even dangerous anymore. Not that you ever really were.”

“You would be wise to listen this once. You might get out of her alive if you do.” The gunner’s lips twitched as he glanced down to his hand, fingers wrapped around the grip of the handgun. “So, what? You want something dangerous?”

Transferring the gun to his other hand, Vincent quickly popped the bottle he had grabbed open, just barely covering his hand with the slick liquid before leaning heavily against Reno’s back again. “You should watch what you ask for,” he whispered, pushing two fingers into the Turk.

Reno arched from the intrusion, but grinned as he gasped for a breath. “That’s not dangerous, you goddamned psycho freak. That’s just—ah! Fuck!” He bit down on his lip again, the fresh taste of coppery blood covering his tongue.

Vincent let out a short breath as he watched the redhead’s shoulders arch, the long strands of hair falling to drape around the other’s face. “Certainly forced, isn’t this?” he asked, not expecting an answer as he spread his fingers.

Turning his head to the side and pressing his cheek against the covers, Reno clenched his eyes shut. The weight of the other on his back was pressing him against the edge of the bed, the fabric of the blankets rubbing against his still-bound erection. Add in the fact that Vincent’s fingers were long enough to reach where it counted and he was already shaking from his pent up need. “Just shut up and do it already,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“I don’t remember saying you could give orders.” A third finger was added and Vincent listened as something like a restrained moan hit his ears. “Besides, I thought you wanted danger.”

Reno opened his mouth to respond, only to have his breath stolen away as the digits inside of him disappeared, replaced by something larger and stiffer. He squeezed his eyes shut as cold steel pressed deeper within him, the cocking of the hammer making him cringe more than the fact that he had a gun barrel inside of him. “You’re a fucking psycho,” he hissed as he felt the barrel start to move. His already numb hands clenched as well, his nails digging into his palms even though he couldn’t feel it.

“So I’ve been told.” The gunman’s voice was cold with a lilt of amusement buried within it. He couldn’t deny that the sight below him, not to mention the array of sounds he was tearing from Reno as he slowly slid the revolver in and out of him, was incredibly arousing. “Though certainly never from someone in your position.”

Dragging in a harsh gasp, Reno tipped his head to the side and bit down on his lip again as the sight pressed against his prostate. He was aware of exactly how dangerous his situation was, but for some reason that risk just made him want it more. His breathing hitched as he felt the barrel pressed deeper until the trigger guard brushed his skin, Vincent leaning close over him to whisper in his ear.

A tremor ran down the redhead’s back as he felt razor-tips dragging up his side to dig into his hip. Unfortunately, neither the pain nor the pleasure he was receiving was enough to tear his mind away from the word echoing in his mind. So far, Vincent had said “click” three times. He recalled the gunman’s question about Russian Roulette and suddenly wondered if this was the elder’s sick, twisted version. Do five things and then shoot the person. He silently agreed that it was a good way to get a point across, realizing that he only had two chances left. Two more things for the other to do to him before he was shot dead.

The sensation of the sight pressing inside of him again startled Reno out of his thoughts and he responded with a short yelp. He silently cursed himself and bit down on his lip again, determined not to give Vincent the submission he evidently craved. His only problem was that he was finding it increasingly hard to stay quiet.

The pinpoints on his hip disappeared, replaced by a hard tug to the Turk’s ponytail. He gasped and could do nothing to help it as his head was pulled upward from the force. A few strands of hair fell from the grip, sheared free from the tension holding them over the razor-sharp edges, drifting down to settle on the rumpled bedspread. He had little time to think about them as his head was yanked back again, the revolver pushing deep inside again before being roughly pulled free.

He was given only a moment to catch his breath and quietly curse the man behind him before he felt warm flesh press inside of him. While he was thankful that there wasn’t a primed bullet aimed for his intestines, he figured that he preferred the gun. Vincent was no where near small and he was wasting no time at all in starting slow. Reno’s only bit of thankfulness was that the elder had already stated it wouldn’t be a dry fuck, so he probably wouldn’t be hurting later as much as he would have been without the lube. That still didn’t buffer Vincent’s hard motions, nails and claws alike digging into his hips to hold him still.

A well, aimed thrust pulled him from his scant thoughts and he just barely held back a groan as he was pressed against the bed more. Exhaustion was starting to build in his legs, but he just clenched his teeth and dealt with it, not wanting to know what the repercussions for collapsing would be.

He dragged in a shaking breath as Vincent pulled back, the air hitting his lungs just in time to be let back out in a groan by the force of the other’s thrusts. It was becoming harder and harder to keep quiet and it was all thanks to the fact that it just felt good to Reno to be fucked that hard. He couldn’t deny it and was far from wanting to do so. Instead he just stayed there, letting himself essentially be pounded against the bed, his hands clenched between his back and the constant press of the gunman’s stomach.

Crimson eyes narrowed as Vincent arched his back, a short grin appearing as he heard the redhead moan beneath him. He knew he would eventually make the man break, one way or another. Pulling back, he took a quick moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and realize exactly how close he was to his second release. Another grin crossing his lips, he leaned close to Reno and quickly reached around to tug a piece of the rope binding the other’s erection, the knots falling free as he whispered another harsh growl of “click” near the redhead’s ear.

The body beneath Vincent shuddered, another hard motion just enough to push Reno over the edge he had been balancing on for almost half an hour. A muffled cry made the gunman shiver and pull the other tightly against him as muscles tightened, pulling him into his own orgasm.

Reno’s mind whirled around for a moment as he just lay there panting, his face pressed against the bedspread to the point that he almost couldn’t breathe. His mind slowly faded back to normal and he was suddenly hit with the realization of how much everything hurt. And not just shallow pain. He ached all over. Swallowing, he dared a glance over his shoulder where he could see the hint of dark hair.

They remained like that for a while until an abrupt movement pulled Vincent free from the Turk. He slowly rounded the bed and settled on the edge, rearranging himself and doing up his pants before looking over when Reno’s legs finally gave out and landed him on his knees. “You certainly look worse for the wear,” he commented idly.

“Wonder why?” Reno muttered, his voice soft as he couldn’t find the strength to make it any louder. He shifted a little, disappointed to find he was still bound. Vincent wasn’t done with him yet. “What next?” he asked, though the fight had been forced out of his voice through sheer exhaustion.

Vincent snorted as he kept watching Reno, finally raising his hand with his fingers curled, the exceptions being his index finger and his thumb. “Bang,” he mumbled, a smirk crossing his face as he lowered his hand.

Surprise made the Turk lean up a bit. “What? Wait. I thought… that was only four. Where’s the fifth?” He pushed himself up the best he could, catching the gunman’s gaze. “There’re five chances to win, right?”

The ebony head shook slightly. “You’re just not that lucky,” he replied, tossing the handgun onto the bed from where it had been tucked in his pants pocket.

“So you’re not gonna actually shoot me?”

“Shoot you? No. If you recall, this was never loaded.” As if to prove his point, Vincent took the revolver and spun the cylinder. Nothing fell out and Reno’s brows creased. He vaguely remembered the gunman saying something earlier about not having loaded the revolver, but it did him no good now. “Besides, what kind of a lesson would you learn if you were dead? This way, you might remember not to come pestering me about some stupid party that I have no interest in.”

The redhead didn’t respond, just sank to his knees again. His eyes closed though they didn’t stay that way as a hand wrapped around the restraints on his wrists, hauling him to his feet. “Come on. Now that you’ve learned your lesson, or should have anyway, it’s time for you to go. And look at that, you didn’t miss the New Year yet.”

Green eyes flicked toward the bedside clock as he was shoved forward, his weak legs just barely able to hold him up but somehow doing just that. Sure enough, it read 11:52, eight minutes to midnight. “Yeah, Happy fuckin’ New Year to you too,” Reno muttered quietly. He stumbled as the gunner pushed at his back, only staying upright because of the iron grip on his wrists.

Turning his gaze forward, the redhead noticed they were moving through the sparsely furnished kitchen he had previously been in. He just barely caught a glimpse of the chair he had been tied to, a few smears of dark blood showing just how badly the plastic tie had cut into his wrists. Seeing his own blood was nothing new though and he just shrugged it aside, turning his attention on the door he had being led toward. “So you’re just going to stick me outside without pulling my pants up or cleaning me up or anything?”

“That’s the idea.” A small smirk crossed over Vincent’s face. “How else will I make sure that you learn from this if you don’t have to face public humiliation in the end? Besides, that’s one way to put out the message that I don’t like idiots visiting me unless I ask them to.” He pulled open the door and inclined his head toward the steps. “There you are. Now please keep all your invitations to yourself from now on, if you will.” Planting his hand in the center of Reno’s back, he gave a hard shove and watched as the redhead stumbled out and caught his balance.

Smirking again, he simply closed the door on his intruder and locked the door, turning to head away. As far as he was concerned, his work was over and a shower sounded absolutely splendid to him.

Outside, Reno glared at the closed door. “Stupid bastard… could’ve at least cut this damned—“

“Reno?”

The Turk whirled around the best he could, an awkward smile gracing his face. “Uh, hey, Rude. Where ya been?”

“Wh—Where have I been? What happened to you?” Even though the sunglasses hid the other Turk’s eyes, his expression was clear enough from the way his mouth was hanging open. “You look like you were put through a wood chipper and then thrown into a boxing match afterward.”

“Almost,” Reno replied with a little laugh. He turned to face the closed door again, shrugging as Rude hurried to help him look decent again. His pants up and belt buckled, he tipped his head toward his shoulder. “Wanna get the tie back there too?” he asked, almost nonchalantly.

“The tie?” His partner moved back around him. “Jesus, Reno!” he hissed, quickly drawing a knife and starting on the zip tie.

“Hey, Rude…”

“What?” the other replied, not looking away from his work as he tried to break the plastic strip without cutting Reno anymore than he already was. He was simply stunned at the condition his partner had stepped out in and wondered exactly what the redhead did to deserve something of that caliber.

“When’s the next company get together? Ya know, another party where all the Turks and everyone are supposed to be there.” The blade finally sliced through the tie and Reno brought his arms around, his shoulders disagreeing at the movement with pain that he ignored. Rubbing his wrists, he never let his eyes leave the front door.

Still shaking his head from the sight before him, Rude shrugged. “I don’t know.” He paused. “Well, there’s the Turks’ founding day in late January. Why?”

A grin slowly grew on Reno’s face as he kept staring at the door, practically oblivious to his injuries as he thought. “Perfect,” he said quietly, nodding. “Perfect.”