insusurro | OPEN/MINGLE — SMASHING GARDENS

OPEN/MINGLE — SMASHING GARDENS

[ Meanwhile, in the middle of the desert......

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object? Who knows. This is more like two old, rusted Chevys trading flirting touches at low speeds. Galbadia Garden and Balamb Garden are careening into one another in a way that some of you might find all too familiar.

Maybe this happened years ago for you, maybe it hasn't happened yet, maybe you had no business being in these crazy hoverships in the first place, but regardless. You're here now and it's time to brace for impact. This one will be an even bigger problem, because there's no one at the helm of these ships. It's as if they've developed a will of their own and driven themselves into one another, sending both vessels careening into the boiling sands below.

Luckily, these things are as hardy as they are ancient. They'll both need new paint jobs and extracurricular activities will be out of the question for some time, but when the dust clears, everything is mostly intact. The Gardens will fly again. Someday.

Anyway, this is your chance to mingle somewhere that isn't Midgar. Both Gardens are smushed together, accessible through Galbadia Garden's basketball court. Maybe you want to organize a search and rescue. Or start doing damage assessment and making repairs. Maybe you wanna do some figure skating on the definitely not demon-infested hockey rink. Whatever you want, congrats, you're not in Midgar anymore. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Reno is prepared, completely, to drop every last one of those men as they come scrambling. Whether he just clocks them, sticks his leg out, drags them elsewhere, whatever—he is completely prepared to put down all three of them in as close to a single move as he can manage. While Tseng talks to them, he begins planning his strategy, the shiftiness of his eyes lost behind the visor of his helmet. He has one ear on the conversation and one out for the sound of any approaching footsteps. He has spotted the camera, yes, and is looking for ones like it. He has decided which hallway would be best to execute this in. He's deciding what the fastest and cleanest way to incapacitate three people who are all taller and stockier than he is would be when he sees the exchange of something shiny go from one hand to Tseng's.

He also is momentarily too stunned to speak. Instead, he makes an audible noise of disbelief, a sort of stammering u-uh as their new friends take off again.

Tseng says his name.

The glee on his face is mostly lost, but the way his nostrils flare and he purses his lips hard say all that needs to be said. Right up until he can't hold the snort of laughter in anymore, and god what a snort it is. It's so loud it echoes down the hall. The following fit of cackles are strangled down to choked, high-pitched giggles instead, as well as hissed little tss-ss-ss-sses with his tongue poking between his teeth. ]

Times've changed since you were in charge. Let's get those reports run, Lieutenant.

[ Tseng is glad for the visor covering his face; he's well-aware of the twisted look on it now, somewhere between ten seconds to hysterical laughter and absolute abject disappointment. This is their target. This is what they're up against.

He can't lose it now, not here. Instead, he huffs, a small noise that is equal parts amusement and hurry, and hastens Reno inside the lab with him.

It's not a lab like Hojo's lab. What it is is a wide, open space filled with sprawling, curved desks and glittering, humming monitors. Huge monitors, at that. Everything feels oversized and bulky, which gives Tseng the impression that a budget just has not been there for them as of late. He slides into one of the benches and strikes the keys on the board, watching as the screen lights up before him.

Same keyboard, he notes. Language is all shit that he understands. He lets relief settle over him for a moment before he feeds the keycard into the slot. ]

This is...

[ What he sees amazes him. Every aspect of this mission is laid out and labeled for him in a neat, pointed list. There are data tables with extra information should he choose to click on it. Information that he didn't even know he wanted is presented plainly and prominently.

He realizes that soldier didn't even ask him for his name so that he could get his keycard back later. ]

Everything is here. It can't be this easy.

[ Has to be a setup. Tseng removes his gun and places it in his lap, gestures for Reno to take watch. ]

Lock the door. They must be on to us.

[ It's really quite stunning how simple this is. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, but he is. Reno had expected there to be a certain kind of access level or something. This card seems to give them absolutely everything, and he isn't sure if that's just because the guy who gave it to them had high security clearance or if these cards are genuinely programmed not to discriminate, but either fucking way, who... who the hell does this? It's really mindboggling. It makes him feel ten thousand times better about the standards back home, that's something the two of them can share. ]

Yo, remember that time you reamed me out for "losing" my keycard, only to find out it was safe and sound in my desk drawer the whole time? I want a fucking apology.

[ That was such a National Fucking Incident. He has clearance almost everywhere, and the chaos it would have caused to have a Turk's security card floating around loose somewhere in the building would be nothing short of a complete disaster. Total SNAFU. This, though? Nobody probably gives a shit if they lose their card here. Just ask Joe Schmoe for his. Or... yeah, a trap, maybe.

Reno makes his way across the room to lock the door, gives the door a solid push-and-pull to make sure it's locked, then puts his back to Tseng's and rests a hand on the hilt of his sword. His instinct tells him to prepare for an ambush, or for the room to fill up with gas, or something, but as the moments pass, and nothing happens... is this for real? ]

If this is a trainee academy, too, then it isn't any wonder everyone here is useless, but still. I'd hate to see what the fuck their actual army looks like. Anyway, gimme the goods. Names, places, where they keep the fun toys. Fuck it—if they're giving us everything and all the time in the world to do it, take everything.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

[ Tseng isn't even really paying attention, honestly, just muttering whatever is on the top of his mind. Reno knows how he gets when it's like this, a deluge of information for the taking at his fingertips, his eyes wandering as he absorbs and processes and extrapolates. Even if this is a set up, even if they are so confident that what the two of them see here will never make it out of this room, it is so much. Within seconds, he can recite the make and model of the uniform he's wearing and Reno's too, he gets into the diagnostic checklists for the Garden itself and begins to piece together how it might work, and there's a wealth of strategum and missives to lose himself in, each and every one of them cleverly accented with digital diagrams and clearly labeled timelines and projections.

Tseng promised himself that he would leave this all behind but—this doesn't count, right? Not really. ]

I can... No, wait.

[ He strikes into a list that is advertised as five parts, but when he advances to the next screen, there's six, then seven, and it never ends. Anything that's meant to be locked away is done so on the good faith that the user will trust not to scroll too far. Now he has more access. What the fuck.

He tries that little trick on the main screen and ends up in a program that simulates the uniforms they're wearing. A digitized soldier pops up on the screen, wiggling like a snake. To be fair, the amount of movement he's clearly exhibiting is pretty amazing—just probably not for the right reasons.

This is it. This is his fucking limit. Tseng is gasping for air now, dying in his chair, tears dripping down from his visor and spattering across the keys. ]

[ This is now the third time Reno has heard this sound, although technically only the second occasion, and since he's got his back turned and isn't paying attention, it scares the everloving fuck out of him. All he's doing is jabbering on at his back about taking the info on a drive back to HQ and going through it later, maybe with Sidewinder (yeah they're all snakes now, do you think it's ironic that he named his sword after the serpent slayer and then got put in charge of serpents? yeah he thinks that's pretty funny too), when Tseng loses his shit and makes him jump about a foot in the air. ]

Wha, wha—?!

[ Fuck, are they under attack? Nope, just Tseng fucking dying, and after a couple of seconds to swallow his heart back down and look at what is so god damn funny, he smacks Tseng on the shoulder and wheezes: ]

Fuckin'stop.

[ Is that for this shit on the screen or for Tseng, really? This is too god damn much. Who designed this shit? Who is in charge?!? ]

We could have walked right in dressed in our plainclothes and told them we're maintenance and they wouldn't have given a single fuck! You better get that on the jump drive. I need to schedule a seminar for security do's and don'ts.

[ Reno, scheduling seminars, is too fucking much. Now he's laughing, and fuck watching the damn door. Nobody's coming. ]

Stopstopstop. You're gonna fry the cheap circuits.

You stop.

[ Tseng is growling, clutching his sides. It's been a week since he's even really smiled; this is exhausting. And here he is, trying to work in earnest, when he strikes the key to go forward and just finds another one— ]

No. [ he whispers, voice hoarse. ] I cannot decide if this is genius, or...

[ He'll just have to resign himself to wiping away tears while he uplinks everything. At first, his best guess is that none of their equipment will pair with any that he's brought with him. He's never seen tech like this before, after all—why would it be compatible?

Color him surprised when his drive slots in like butter and the terminal immediately recognizes what it is. Curious. And now this is another mystery to add to all the rest. Unlike Reno, mental notes have always sufficed, but yeah lately he's been rethinking his stance on that one. Too little too late, maybe.

He strikes a sequence of keys and a progress bar ribbons across the screen. It's going to take awhile. Surprise, surprise, he's not exactly sweating it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, eyes on Reno. The grin's still there, but it's got a more malicious edge to it now. ]

Speaking of. What's the going price for intel these days, Turk?

[ That loading bar gives him a moment's edge of anxiousness before he remembers that there's not a snowball's chance in Ifrit's blazing hellfire that they're going to have to worry about anyone coming in here and actually being so prepared for them that they can't get the jump on them first. Reno has a few more hehe-hehehs of dying laughter before he settles down, and the moment when his eyes meet Tseng's is just as startlingly electric as the very first time they ever did.

Well, the very first time they ever did when Tseng wasn't staring at him with disbelief and then disdain and then out-and-out ignoring him. He means the first time they ever locked eyes and understood one another. That feeling has only gotten more and more impossible to handle since the troubles began in Midgar, but he finds himself pleasantly sane, for the moment. Only time he'll need to worry is if anyone manages to get through that door thinking they'll lay so much as a finger on a single hair on Tseng's head. ]

Hah! I dunno if you can afford me anymore, outsider. The same old prices just won't cut it when knowledge has become all-powerful.

[ He knows why he's here and not Sidewinder or King Cobra or Cottonmouth, really. There's a comfy spot right next to that gun in Tseng's lap, and Reno takes it, perched lightly on his knee. ]

I'm pretty sure you came ready to cut a good deal, though.

[ Tseng tsks. ]

Adorable. I'm not that desperate yet.

[ Maybe it's a bad idea to tuck the gun away in favor of tugging Reno on to his lap proper with a decisive jerk. Sure as fuck doesn't feel like one. Even if they do get pinned, they'll have enough of a heads up with the locked door.

Also, Tseng just hardly cares. Death is a farce and life is a joke. The only thing that's even real anymore is the heat of Reno beneath his slow-smoothing hands. ]

Just wondering what you owe me for all this cooperation.

[ In fact, he cares so little that he's got his hands roaming over Reno's thighs, slowly and sweetly prying them wide open. Then it's not just apathy but the sheer wild thrill of it, all alone deep in the heart of enemy territory, wound up with Tseng nipping at Reno's ear and kissing down his neck. It's honestly the most normal things have felt for the longest time. ]

Ohhh, I'm paying you? Hahahaha.

[ Evidently that's funny to him. It is not, actually. Alright, maybe a little. It's funny in the "this is the sexy banter we're doing" kind of way, and also in the "it's funny how life turned out like this" kind of way, but he can't really be preoccupied with stupid shit like humor when Tseng's got his mouth and tongue and teeth on his throat like that. He's temporarily seized by how much he missed that, how badly he craved these particular hands on him, how utterly separate they are from anyone else's. They touch all the same places in all the same ways, and yet it's a completely different feeling. Even through both layers of clothes, his own and the uniform, he feels his skin prickle with goosebumps and heat up all over.

When he tips his head down, their helmets clunk together. He honestly kind of forgot he was wearing one for a second. Stupid fucking visor, does this thing come off? Lift up? Something? No? He scrapes the lenses of their facemasks together like two deer tangling antlers, teeth gritting. It's never been such a damn ordeal to kiss someone before, that actually kinda makes it hotter, not being able to. ]

I could pay you in just not selling you out or caging you, or whatever, isn't that how I'm supposed to act...? What was it you said? Duplicitous bastard.

[ Tell that to how he parts his thighs to straddle across Tseng's lap, pressing the heels of his hands and his fingertips into his shoulders and the sides of his neck in a coaxing, massaging sort of way. ]

I don't think I can run things that way. New era and all that, y'know.

[ No, the first thing he does is pitch those stupid helmets off. He watched the sims and read the manuals, he knows all about the emergency catch on the back. They thunder to the ground and still no one comes running. He'd be livid about these operational failures if he cared about anything else but peeling this stupid uniform off of Reno right the fuck now. ]

I'm sure you are the first director to ever feel that way, Reno.

[ Yeah, they're fucking around with some banter, but the sardonic grin Tseng flashes has a little something extra to it. Not much, because all this space and isolation has done a wonderful job at restoring those steel doors of composure that Reno's been rusting away; they slam right back down, quick as anything. Gone as fast as he can pull Reno into a long, hard kiss, still right at the borderline of breathlessness from that image of Reno whipping around the sword he'd given him that's been burned in his mind. His fingers tear at zippers, undo buckles, just as deftly as if he's been dealing with them his whole life. (This is why you always read the manual.) He's grinning when he finally gets those—shoulder plates? Whatever they are, he sends them sailing loudly. )

If you are above sexual favors, though, you're going to have a hard time.

I'm not above anything. Isn't the point just to act like I am and keep all my filthy, pretty skanky shit on the inside?

[ Zing.

Reno gasps as if that helmet was stifling his breath and not just holding all that long hair in, cascading down over his shoulders the minute it clunks to the floor. What was that he said about keeping his hands to himself? When he left? Okay, so he didn't make himself any promises, but he did tell himself to act like he has any self-control whatsoever for once. If not for professionalism's sake (ha, fuck that shit) then for his own. If he just keeps falling into everyone's arms like this, one of these days he's going to wind up dropped on the floor.

And yet here he is. Falling into Tseng's arms.

No regrets. He all but claws that uniform off of him in turn, not having educated himself on the hows but either brute forcing it or copying what Tseng does is good enough to make it happen. It trips him up to go for a handful of hair and find it so very short, but that makes grasping at the back of his head and pulling him in oddly satisfying in a brand new kind of way, humming when their mouths meet and press, hungrier still every time he thinks he's satisfied what he wants. It's like pulling magnets apart when he staggers upright to shed the rest of that damn uniform. Would you look at that. He's put on weight again. He's gentle about letting that sword touch the ground. ]

Until the time's right, that is.

You've always been a quick study.

[ Tseng shoves him back, just an inch or two. Enough so that he has Reno in full view as his hands wander, smoothing over his chest, sailing down his sides and up again. Learning him all over again. It never occurs to Tseng to state out loud something as obvious as how much he's missed this skin, this warmth, but this is close enough.

His lips curl wickedly. ]

Is this the right time? Shall we reschedule? You should know that I am booked solid.

[ He says, deep behind enemy lines and in exactly no hurry tracing circles on Reno's skin. The best part about Reno gaining weight? When his palms ride the curve of his hip, there's just more roundness, an endless acreage of firm skin to squeeze. He's hissing before he can help it. ]

Mm, this is the only time, so we'll just have to make it right.

[ As it were, he's booked solid, too. He can't reliably leave Midgar unattended to to do whatever the fuck he wants anymore, no matter how solid his preparations were when he left this afternoon. Those things are hard to care about when he's here, like this, with Tseng, but if he pretends they're only passing the time while they wait for their files to copy, then it's completely justifiable, right?

Sure whatever. Reno sighs, satisfied, relaxed, driven, as he brushes their noses and chins and grinning mouths together again and again. Duly ignoring being pushed back, he shifts closer again, hips shifting with no pressing need for friction but feeling like a bolt of lightning is striking him right in the spine every time he finds it anyway, brushing against his belly or his hip. His fingers find that new scar Tseng made for himself at his neck—he traces it, then dips his head down to lathe it with his tongue. Tseng may not think to say these things out loud, but Reno sure does. He's actually becoming quite skilled at saying them, these things. The things he isn't supposed to say. To Tseng or to anyone. ]

I missed you like it's been a year 'steada just a week. Can't tell if I love it or hate it.

[ Dammit, Reno. He was just trying to enjoy this new look. Not that he's complaining; now that Reno's tucked against him, he's free to watch his fingers walk down Reno's spine, pausing here and there to brush little shivers into his skin. They really don't have much time, he's sure, but it's worth it to take whatever he's got, worth it to just feel and breathe and see while it's there for the taking.

His fingers slow as he takes in what Reno says. His brow lifts a bit. ]

Can't tell?

[ He's not sure what that means. The rest compels him to lift a hand and brush it through Reno's hair, soft and slow, frowning. Something about Reno missing him bothers him, even if it's just a passing sentiment. And it's not like he's attached anymore; he could explain everything, he could clarify all the mysteries that brought them here, he could give him the hope of what is to come, but— no. He really can't. Silence is really the greater mercy and he chooses that. ]

[ Sorry, baby, no time to show off the goods today. Maybe when they aren't in-between infohacks and knee deep in a foreign base full of people that will probably shoot first and ask questions later (if only, as it turns out, because they're too stupid to ask questions, evidently). For whatever reason or another, Tseng taking to heart what he says and looking at him like that makes Reno smile, fond, kind of amused. They really aren't so different, sometimes. They may act it out in different ways, but their hearts are so similar it freaks him out sometimes. The more these things go on, utterly and completely changing the landscape of his mind and how it's functioned for the last nearly thirty years, the more he thinks he might be starting to understand. Starting, because he probably never will fully. Not like a normal person. Whatever a normal person is supposed to be. ]

Yeah. It's so fucking good to see you. The wait's kinda nice, like savin' dessert for last. And you are a treat, that's for damn sure.

[ Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Eat dessert last? Fuck you don't tell him how to live his life. His fingertips snake down the scant space between them, pressing his thumbs into and around the swell of Tseng's pecs, becoming distracted by branching scars and beauty-spots and returning to center. He rests their foreheads together. ]

But not knowing how long it's gonna be makes me wanna throw you over my shoulder and squirrel you away somewhere for later. I really gotta make the most of it. But I guess it's always been that way, huh? It's all in my head.

Reno...

[ Tseng closes his eyes as their foreheads collide. It is strange to find comfort in such a simple act, but there it is. Just for a second, there's quiet in his mind, as his nose drifts against Reno's and their breath mingles in the space between.

It's a nice second, even if it is fleeting. And then it's impossible not to think of how unfair this is for Reno. How little he understands of what Tseng has become. The disappointment and anger that he stands to endure in the future. The inevitability of what it means for Reno to be a Turk when Tseng is not. Even now, Tseng feels like an imposter in his own skin, as if this moment of tenderness is a terrible deceit.

The least that he can do is offer Reno some comfort. Not that he's ever been good at it—especially not now. But it is sometimes important just to make the effort. ]

I'm here now, and I will be here whenever you want me.

[ He lifts Reno's chin and strokes the dark hair away from his face. It's still such a striking look on him, even after all this time, even if it is natural. It has always been difficult to wrap his head around just how beautiful Reno is, in all of his iterations. It's enough, at least, to restore that wicked smirk of his. ]

As you can so clearly see, all that has changed is how willing I am to give a fuck what anyone else says.

Hehehe.

[ God that does his soul good to hear. Reno laughs his hehehe laugh and kisses Tseng again, thankfully still able to manage it in spite of all that grinning. ]

I know, I know. It suits you. Freedom looks really good on you. You've never been so hot. Which begs the question why I'm talking so fuckin' much and not letting you tear me the fuck apart already...

[ Less talking, more making the most of it, damn it! Reno's grin widens, tilting his head where his chin rests in Tseng's grasp, and—psyche! He leans back again, hands on the armrest of the seat. He isn't making a spectacle of himself the way he had before, all dramatically bent back and purposeful hips and gorgeous angles. He's exactly what there is and nothing more, and the beauty is that he knows it works for him too. ]

Let's trash this place.

[ Tseng's cheeks still catch a little fire for that one. It's, y'know, the whole look is new and alien to him, so it hits him a bit off guard. Not that it's going to stop him from taking when Reno presents himself for it. ]

God...

[ Now he feels that week without. Now his hands are markedly less patient and prone to wander, moving with a decisive swiftness to get Reno the fuck out of the rest of this uniform and leave it to puddle on the ground. He leans forward to crush his mouth against Reno's, hungry, his tongue thrusting, as he quickly escapes enough of his own lousy uniform to get access to his pockets. ]

Just like this?

[ he asks, once he's gotten his hand slicked up, dragged the wetness of it down Reno's spine and rubbed it in until it begins to turn warm and then warmer and tingling. He goes back for more and burrows his fingers between Reno's cheeks, stroking over his hole until the fluid has turned blazing. His grin goes a little darker. ]

Right here in this cheap fucking chair?

Right here in this cheap fucking chair.

[ Reno grins as that fire stokes up in Tseng's core, watches it come to life in the color of his skin. He'll never get enough of that Oh My Heavens pink he turns, so lovely when he's taking those words of his straight to the head. He scoots himself just close enough for more leverage on that cheap fucking chair, thighs apart and raised up just a little on his knees. Both hands card through Tseng's hair, acquainting himself with what it feels like to stroke through it now. Short and sweet. Pretty and unburdened. He's not a big huge metaphors guy, but he likes how it feels like it means. He likes how it gives him free access to rake his nails down the back of his neck, his shoulders, the first few bumps of his spine. ]

And on the floor, the tables, against the walls...

[ He's so relaxed as he leans himself back, Tseng's fingers hardly need to push to be in him, as eager and willing as it gets. ]

Those aren't options, they're checkpoints. Just FYI.

[ Tseng groans as his fingers sink in. His lashes flutter and he tips his head against Reno's chest, rubbing his fevered cheek against his skin. ]

I love the way you swallow me up.

[ He gazes up at Reno, half-here, half drifting away on the silken sensation of his insides. He remembers doing this until his wrist ached. What he wouldn't give for a chance to do that again. ]

You feel better every time. And fuck, the way you look right now...

[ He cranes his neck, rubs his lips over a nipple before he sucks it in between his teeth. His tongue lashes, hard and wild, and he murmurs right into Reno's skin. ]

I want you more than ever.

[ Will they ever have nights like that again? When they can spend hours and go again and again and again? Oh, sure. Surely that's possible sometime. Not now, but hey, the Gold Saucer's right up the way and he's got places there to go that are safe from the notice of his superiors (or so he thinks; imagine when he gets into the files that tell him he's wrong about that). Right now nights like that don't matter. Right this second is what matters, those fingers that fill him up and make him come apart, breath hitching, the teeth and tongue on him that make him hiss and moan. He undulates like a charmed snake. And he blushes, which is so hard to do anymore. ]

Mm, missed your talk, too. I missed the way you light me up.

[ Like the firecrackers outside, big colorful explosions, a spectacle, an absolutely delightful diversion. One he came running right back into the middle of in spite of his opportunity to run and sneak away. Every damn time. He'll always come running back. One hand darts between them, dragging down, scratching but reminding himself not to claw and tear and pull like he would anyone else. As much as blood is sacred and honest between them, they've found some kind of strange serenity in not drawing it when they fuck, and that he actually understands the logic of. All too well, in fact. Still, that doesn't mean he can't leave raised, red trails, break skin, rub coaxingly up and down the length of Tseng's cock through the goddamn material still in his way. ]

I'm still all yours.

All mine. [ Tseng says, tracing his tongue over the raised scar tissue stroked across Reno's chest. How odd it is now, that Tseng can so clearly recall carving each line, but when he tries to remember the source of them, all that he can retrieve is white noise and nothingness.

Absolutely pathetic. He sweeps the terminal keys out of the way, along with a few odds and ends to clear space upon the desk. In their place, he lifts and sets Reno down, giving him enough distance to finally kick off the rest of this uniform. ]

I mean to make you feel it tonight.

[ He rises just as soon as he is able, slipping between Reno's thighs. His tongue sweeps over Reno's lips as he draws his cock out of his boxers and wets himself down. ]

And a few more nights besides. [ he catches his lip on his teeth. ] I'm going to leave you with something to take home.

[ Kick Reno does, hips raising and then lowering, sprawled out over the desk with his thighs fallen open and his chest rising and falling faster than he thinks it probably ought to be at this stage in the game. His breath settles when Tseng comes close again, reaching out as if it's absolutely imperative that he touch him. The most important and precious thing in his life, running his hands down the plane of his back, grasping at his flanks, up his arms, down his sides, up his chest, all the way down again to his hips. His legs raise and encircle Tseng's waist, hooking at the calves and capturing him in, drawing him ever closer. ]

Aw, more than I already am? You gonna leave me sore?

[ The good kind. And maybe the bad kind, a little, the heartsore kind. So good and so fucking miserable. He kinda likes the ironic tragedy of it, though. No matter who has him, he's always completely Tseng's. I mean, check it: he's got his name on him. Just like the kids that are now adults that are now, half of them, eliminated by his hand (eliminated no longer means dead these days; it means, made so that they'll never see the light of day again.). ]

C'mere, show me. Gimme everything you got. You're all mine, too, you know.

Yes.

[ Tseng's palms slip over Reno's thighs, gripping and squeezing as they pass. Really, all it takes to drive him wild anymore are these legs. By the time he's got his hands full of Reno's ass, grasping and pulling him closer, practically off the desk's edge, it already feels like he's been waiting an eternity. ]

But that's always been true.

[ Honestly, it has been forever. Over a week with nothing like this. Just didn't feel right, because he knew it wouldn't be like this, that first slow thrust inside reducing him to groans and shivers, the safe harbor at the crook of Reno's neck where he nestles his nose until the stars fade from his vision. Everything about it is perfect and familiar, which is a hard won these days.

For a second, all he can do is say Reno's name as he buries himself deeper and deeper within him. It's probably just the absence, the waiting, he thinks, but he's not that dense. His hands know it just as well, grasping Reno hard, like they're waiting to catch him when he slips away. ]

[ That's it. It's not as if he's been hard-up for sex even since the day after the gala, and by god the things that some of it does to his heart just makes him crazy in the head. But Tseng is so different. It's always different, every time, and for once he absolutely doesn't even have the slightest inclination to wonder or guess why or how. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter why or how. It just is, and his biggest mistake was trying to pick that apart and make sense of it. It caused him to essentially lose his fucking mind, unable to handle the reality or even the fantasy. Whether he's just resolved not to be that way or if absence really just makes the heart give less of a fuck about the details, who knows, who cares. All he knows is he needed this.

Without regard for being overheard (unlikely, he thinks, and would anyone even give a shit if they did hear him in this backwards fucking place), Reno moans, growls out something like mmmmhfuck and digs his nails in. Tightens every last hold he's got on Tseng until it hurts, arms and legs and all around him as if to trap him in place, stop him from pulling back or going any deeper. Not until he lets him, which he does gradually, and then all at once, pulling him in to urge him on as if more and more and more couldn't possibly be enough, even right from the get-go. Already he's started to break out in a sweat, and it's not the sweltering desert heat. ]

Tseng— heh, they probably won't bust us even if I scream...

OPEN/MINGLE — SMASHING GARDENS

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