It's like a dance, this backwards, backwards, down, and Tseng falls into step easily. For once in his life, he doesn't know where he is going or what is going to happen. There is no researched outcome, no auxiliary plans, no escape route. Just Reno slipping the blade from his hand and Tseng going still for him because he isn't sure what he is going to do with it, but god, more than anything, he wants to find out. Reno is the one variable he cannot predict and while it had always been a singular pleasure and an agonizing catalyst for every migraine he's ever had all at once, right now, it is the greatest thrill of his life.
The blade is flung, and Reno searches, searches. Tseng watches him, the way his eyes scan in a crazed sweep, the tension in his jaw. How lovely he looks in this condition. Like he could snap at any moment and tear them both to shreds. He licks his lips to recall the taste of him in this awful eternity of a second that he spends waiting.
And then it's just. Over. Unlike with Sephiroth, the cut does not strike fast and leave him in that shock that dulls the pain. He remembers how disappointed he'd felt, when he was spared that last great agony. No, Reno would never do that to him. He burns into him instead, so quickly that all Tseng can feel is in the aftermath, all of his nerves coming alive, screaming that something is so very, very wrong. He barely has time to inhale sharply before Reno's mouth is there to take that breath away from him. He drowns in it, in this kiss and this agony and this desire alike. Against his will, his entire body convulses with shivers. It is the most beautiful experience he's ever had, losing control this way, once again with Reno working deeply under his flesh.
Pressing into the kiss becomes an arduous task. Putting any pressure at all on his abdomen turns the pain in his gut into a furious, vision-blacking torment. And everything he can do right now puts pressure on it—gasping for breath once Reno breaks from their kiss, lifting his arms to drape them over Reno's shoulders, moving, shifting, needily rising beneath him. It seems like even looking at him exacerbates it, and Tseng cannot stop looking, cannot name the reason why he cannot tear his eyes from the image of Reno bloody and triumphant above him, but he does know this one thing.
This suffering is perfect. It is precisely what he deserves. And he is so grateful that he burns with how badly he needs to express it, though he has no earthly idea how to begin. Perhaps this is a start, the way he surges inwards again, growling from the pain, capturing the flesh of Reno's throat between his teeth. He bites for blood, chews, really, and it's so absolutely barbaric that it ought to be distasteful, but it is a special bliss instead, eating through Reno's skin.
YOU CUT ME OPEN AND I
The blade is flung, and Reno searches, searches. Tseng watches him, the way his eyes scan in a crazed sweep, the tension in his jaw. How lovely he looks in this condition. Like he could snap at any moment and tear them both to shreds. He licks his lips to recall the taste of him in this awful eternity of a second that he spends waiting.
And then it's just. Over. Unlike with Sephiroth, the cut does not strike fast and leave him in that shock that dulls the pain. He remembers how disappointed he'd felt, when he was spared that last great agony. No, Reno would never do that to him. He burns into him instead, so quickly that all Tseng can feel is in the aftermath, all of his nerves coming alive, screaming that something is so very, very wrong. He barely has time to inhale sharply before Reno's mouth is there to take that breath away from him. He drowns in it, in this kiss and this agony and this desire alike. Against his will, his entire body convulses with shivers. It is the most beautiful experience he's ever had, losing control this way, once again with Reno working deeply under his flesh.
Pressing into the kiss becomes an arduous task. Putting any pressure at all on his abdomen turns the pain in his gut into a furious, vision-blacking torment. And everything he can do right now puts pressure on it—gasping for breath once Reno breaks from their kiss, lifting his arms to drape them over Reno's shoulders, moving, shifting, needily rising beneath him. It seems like even looking at him exacerbates it, and Tseng cannot stop looking, cannot name the reason why he cannot tear his eyes from the image of Reno bloody and triumphant above him, but he does know this one thing.
This suffering is perfect. It is precisely what he deserves. And he is so grateful that he burns with how badly he needs to express it, though he has no earthly idea how to begin. Perhaps this is a start, the way he surges inwards again, growling from the pain, capturing the flesh of Reno's throat between his teeth. He bites for blood, chews, really, and it's so absolutely barbaric that it ought to be distasteful, but it is a special bliss instead, eating through Reno's skin.