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. ]

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[ 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...

[ Funny how quickly Tseng forgets how good this feels. He knows, sure; he's convinced that's the reason why he's so fucking addicted to it in the first place. But every time it's a mind-shattering surprise when he's sliding slick and wanting into Reno's excruciatingly perfect heat, struck again and again by how anything could feel so amazing. And that's just what he's thinking when the iron cinch of Reno's legs and arms and muscles close around him, strangling him all over, leaving him on the precipice of what is quickly seeming more like something he needs than desires. ]

Reno—

[ His growl precedes a strangled groan that's drawn from the sudden sensation of being devoured wholly, buried and held captive in this wonderfully agonizing clench. His hips jerk hard to make up for that second he was held at bay, before he can stop himself, and his lips coast over Reno's shoulders in the aftermath, mouthing silent apologies into his skin. ]

Scream anyway.

[ Maybe not so apologetic. Tseng's fingers clench hard into each of Reno's cheeks, spread him wide, lift him til he's barely even touching the desk anymore. All this new ramblin' muscle is gonna be put to good fucking use tonight. ]

See if they can hear you all the way back in fucking Midgar.

[ All Tseng cares about is finding the right angle to fuck him like he's trying to tell him something, something Reno will only get if his head is snapping back with every thrust, a language spoken only by grinding skin and shuddering impact. ]

[ They both came prepared to go hard, it seems. Reno's put on weight and clearly been training, and Tseng's been roughing it to the great benefit of his already highly satisfying physique, and neither one is in any mood to play the fuck around. Tseng lifts him and Reno does him the solid of taking some of the strain off his arms by tightening his legs tighter around him, positioning them up higher so that he can hold himself up, elbows bending to keep himself from sliding along the surface of the desk.

This isn't the soft, slow, gentle type of sex they had the first couple of times—the only few times, as it were—and Reno is more than fucking okay with that. It isn't just rough for the sake of being rough, either, the kind of hapless slamming-into he typically takes from guys twice his size with no care whatsoever for whether he's actually getting anything out of it. No, he hears exactly what Tseng wants him to with each driving thrust, and he makes good on that request to scream only when he feels it's due rather than for the sake of being performative. He grits his teeth, gasps, moans, whispers Tseng's name, yelps it, then oh, fuck howls like an animal, clawing down his back. This is the type of sex that says I miss you in all the ways he hasn't yet found the words to say verbally, and it's enough that it makes him want to die a little bit. In the best way, naturally. It makes him crazy the way he said Tseng gets his head all mixed up. Crazy in the way that makes him want to tear this whole building to the ground, demolish it, and leave it in flames, with only the two of them left standing.

There's no god damn way somebody isn't hearing him outside this door, and the thinks, good and screams for all he's worth, crushes the sound with a hard yank of Tseng's hair and their mouths pressed together, gasping, sobbing without tears (without tears), drawing away again to gulp for air, his whole body rocking against the table as he loosens his grasp just enough to let himself enjoy the ride a moment. ]

Don't you fucking slow down on me. Come on—

[ Almost immediately, Tseng realizes this desk isn't going to cut it. It's up on some kind of platform and they've fucked it right up to the edge. The terminal is dangerously close to toppling and the keyboard has, hovering by a wire over the floor. Yeah, no. This isn't working.

Tseng groans in frustration and lifts Reno up again. He's operating blind, far more interested in working his mouth down Reno's throat than looking where he's going, but there'll be a wall eventually. And there is. The second Reno's back presses into it, that's when he can do what he needs to get fucking done.

Now Reno's pressed between Tseng and the wall, both equally solid. He shifts beneath him until that connection is perfect again, just slick skin sliding until that snapping collision of flesh. The growl he looses then is not frustrated at all, just hungry, needy, absolutely insatiable now that Reno is back in his arms. And that's okay, Reno's still in his ear, telling him not to slow down, and there's no way he can anyway, not when that first thrust against something unshakeable has him murmuring curses under his breath like he's under an enthralling spell.

But this isn't just hammering Reno into a wall for the thrill of it. It's just as much him rubbing his fevered cheek against Reno's shoulder, panting against him for the solace this scant inch of flesh always provides him. His voice has a wounded softness to it when he casts his half-lidded gaze up at Reno, fond and reverent, and says: ]

Kiss me.

[ Just for the joy and exhilaration of being noisy in a place that could theoretically get them killed, Reno shrieks like a fucking hellcat when his back collides with the wall, absolutely delighted. This right here is exactly in his wheelhouse. Getting slammed around every possible surface of a room, leaving shit upended and ruined and in utter smoldering ruin and fucked to within a goddamn inch of his life is right up there with having his hair pulled. He love, love, loves that.

Mind you, any other time it's happened in his life, the other person was categorically hurting him and it was almost not really in the fun and enjoyable way, but he always just figured that was a shrug-offable thing when he was having so much fun being tossed about otherwise. Tseng, in fact, isn't hurting him, at least not in any way he doesn't find wholly unsatisfying (unsatisfying, because it's so fucking good he wants more and more and more), and if he wasn't so busy snarling with animal pleasure, he'd have to stop and marvel at just how soundly this one person always seems to overturn everything he thinks he knows and make him realize he's been doing it all wrong this whole time.

The tight and demanding hold he has around Tseng goes slack when they meet eyes again, that gaze like a sudden arrow to the heart. Panting, he makes some sympathetic sound he's not sure he's ever made before and bows his head forward to do as he bids. He's got some ridiculous notion that it'll be soft, but by the time he's worked their mouths together he can't rein in the insatiable hunger that makes him loose an arm from around his neck where he's hanging on for leverage, then the other a moment later, to cradle Tseng's face and pull him in and lick into his mouth with a deftness that isn't dulled in the least by his desperation. Holding on with only the strength of his legs, clamped tight against Tseng's waist and pushing himself back into the wall, is a fight against gravity, but fuck it. He can't scream like this, only whimper, reduced from words to sounds of base instinct, raw feeling. ]

[ That kiss is like the edge of a blade severing the very last of his strings. Now nothing truly matters. Not gravity, which he is handling well enough on his own, half by virtue of knowing in some hardly-won way how Reno will move and how to move him in kind to keep them both kinetic. Not their circumstances, not the stupid narrative running like an obtrusive marquee in the back of his mind, not even the need to breathe. His only concern is for Reno's tongue licking into his mouth, his hand on his face, how sweet he sounds when Tseng rocks into him and it's so good that he can feel them both trembling in unison.

He thinks he must look awful. Pained and frantic. Still doesn't care. Honesty is what Reno deserves here; let him discover every carnal clue in how roughly and hungrily he ruts against him, let him see how much needs this, how terribly he needs Reno in every capacity he has to give. If this is the last thing he ever tells him, he wants it to be indisputable.

And somehow, no matter how much it pulls from him, he's still aware that it isn't enough. He traps Reno soundly against the wall with his hips and with his hands, lances as soundly and deeply into him as he possibly can, and there at least he can impart that much. The fuller shape of Reno's ass has him crumpling his face in euphoric agony as he grinds hard against it, as if he means to embed himself deeper than he ever has. The half-buried sounds he makes against Reno's mouth turn frantic and raw, less like a rough refrain before the end and more like something that always was, revealed in full. ]

[ Nothing is as perfect as when they're together this way, when all the workshit and lifeshit and bullshit is swept off the table onto the floor and all they've got is this. If life could be like that all the time, boy, they'd be pretty fucking happy, wouldn't they? Two peas in a sticky wet pod, just rolling all over each other all the time. They'd never get bored! Never get tired of it, surely, with such chemistry to carry them through on. It's such a lovely, perfect fake thought, and exactly the kind of nonsense Reno never allowed himself to fill his head with. Nobody had to teach it to him—not the streets, not the people who thought they could own him, not his friends, not Veld or Tseng or life in the Turks. He just always knew innately: this thing you want, it's not for you. You can't have it. It isn't safe to have it. It's a liability. It's a risk you can't afford to take.

Does he got the pocket change to afford it now? Maybe yes, maybe no, they did end up like this, after all... but maybe it suits them. Freedom suits Tseng, he thinks. He seems so alive. It's only been one week. What's another week going to look like? Or a month or a year? That curious thought makes him feel as good as the sex does. He swallows every sound, breaking to breathe and crashing back together again once, twice, and on the third time he slams his head back against the wall, teeth gritted. Thinks about darting a glance over to see if their files are done yet and decides he doesn't much care right this second. ]

I wa—

[ Are those fucking voices he hears right outside the door? Not trying to get in, he doesn't think, but passing by. Reno's breath catches in his chest, and the weight of his options is as visible as anything on his face for all of a couple seconds before he does, duh, the obvious thing, and moans like he's being fucking murdered in the most uncomprehendingly exquisite way. ]

Throw me on the fucking floor and touch me, Tseng.

[ Hahaha, oh shit. Nice, says whoever is out there in passing. Unfuckingbelievable. ]

[ Tseng's eyes dart toward the gun on the table the second he hears voices. What an un-turk-like dilemma, being stranded so far away from firepower. Good thing he resigned before he threw the whole season. He considers going for it, and then Reno lets loose that resounding scream, and Tseng feels his heart start to race and his face light up all at once.

Yeah. This is him. The batshit fuckwild shrieking banshee of his dreams. Tseng wastes no time throwing him to the ground. ]

You're fucking crazy.

[ He says it the same way he said I love you that first time, breathless, with more pathos than he's ever expended in his life. It's not even voluntary; Reno draws this shit out of him, the same way looking at him now sinks his stomach in that free-falling vertigo kind of way, as if he's never touched him before, as if all of this is new and fresh and he can't wait for them to go out together, bright and explosive like dying stars. Everything else looks so colorless in comparison. Nothing else feels so real, so vivid, so alive.

But Reno does, with skin so hot it's nearly molten beneath his smoothing hands, his body like a furnace as he eases himself back inside. He can still hear them talking out there ("Nah!! Don't go in there. I think Dan's porkin' that newbie from Dollet.") but it's not doing much to kill the crazed edge to his grin. ]

More.

[ He drags his palm over his tongue and wraps his fingers around Reno's cock, jerking in time with each brutal slam of his hips. The light in his eyes has turned to wildfire now. This has never been an option before, turning Reno out in such a shamefully public venue, showing everyone what they are and precisely what that fucking means. If he wasn't inspired to rattle every last sound out of Reno until his ears are ringing before, he is now. ]

Let them hear everything.

[ Reno manages a bout of raucous laughter between gasps and pants as he hits the floor and is descended upon all over again, aching already and sure he'll be bruised and limping by tomorrow. He howls when Tseng pushes back in, grasping at him, grasping at the floor, back arched and legs splayed wide only to come closed against either side of Tseng's hips and urge him in with the tight squeeze of his thighs. He's got such a hold on him with those legs he could probably flip them over with that alone, but there's no such need for that kind of theatrics when it's so fucking good like it is, his head snapped back to expose his throat—and to direct his screaming right up at the ceiling.

Speaking of theatrics, is some of this that, a little? Yes, some, in the sense that there is no absolute demanding need to be quite that loud, and also now they have a potentially dangerous audience to entertain, but it isn't shrieking just to shriek. The absolutely pornographic moans and cries and yelps at Tseng's name or any of the other things he says that sound fresh outta Pornhub (oh, fuck, you're so good, that's it, yesss, fuck me— harder—) are part of the show, it's true, but none of them are lies. None of it is forced. This is, if nothing else, just an opportunity to let it all out. Why fucking not scream and say everything he wants and let Tseng know without so much as a shadow of a doubt how much he's loving it? And it might make him laugh, as a bonus, might get them killed, as another bonus, and it'll leave his throat raw, as the best bonus.

His eyes fix on the door for only a second or two right when he hits that point of no return. Anything else, he can spring to action from. But being caught in the web of an absolute fuckstorm of an orgasm, like he's about to be—that's total vulnerability. He's helpless as a sexkitten. To be honest he can't even make out if the voices are still there or if he's imagining them anymore, but to hell with it. Reno gives himself over to fate with one last strangled cry, shuddering and hiccuping, twitching and tight. And tears—some tears he'd kind of hoped to skip over this time, his lower lip trembling as the incomplete wiring in his brain sends all those rushing chemicals to the wrong places. That's alright, though. That's honest, too. ]

[ Everything about this is shit that Tseng hates. The loudness just to be loud, the breach of privacy, the fact that he's on his knees on the fucking floor. It really compounds the fact that things have changed, irrevocably and surprisingly, when he finds himself gasping desperately for air beneath the echoed din of Reno's yelps ringing off the walls, when his hands clench tight and he finds he can't stop moving no matter how uncomfortable it is, no matter how much this shouldn't be doing it for him. Is it just a Reno thing, this morphing of ideas and circumstances that he's severely averse to, converted into thrills he's never even fucking imagined? Or is it just a part of how much he's broken now, because oh man, that option's a real contender.

Maybe it's both. Suddenly, it doesn't matter. Reno cinches around him like a snake and all the air squeezes out of his lungs. The pressure around his dick goes tight and grinding. Tseng knows exactly what that means. He ignores the peppered shadows dotting his eyes and grits his teeth, leaning over Reno's twisting body. No, a better place to bite down would be his throat, wide open and exposed, the perfect place to anchor himself while he fucks him hard enough to keep moving through the merciless clench of his muscles. His growls rumble right through Reno's skin. His mind goes blissfully silent but for this primal mantra of bite lick fuck harder harder faster almost.

In the end, Tseng fails to uphold his side of the show. He doesn't hit climax so much as it is ripped from him; Reno goes tighter than ever before and there's no breaking through it, nothing he can do but lay within him and feel the riot of contractions that happen in the wake of him spilling into Tseng's hand. Probably couldn't pull out if he wanted to. He doesn't want to. He goes right for the place he automatically goes every time, fitting his face into the crook of Reno's neck, burying the short, sharp sound he makes in his skin. Feels like it lasts forever too, his hands holding Reno just so against him so he's buried deep while he pulses inside, a perfect cradle of warmth and wetness.

And then holy fuck, he's exhausted. And giggling his ass off, suddenly. Is that applause he's hearing? If he could lift his head, he'd be shaking it. ]

OPEN/MINGLE — SMASHING GARDENS

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