Reno drives it home, shuddering at the intrusion, gasping like a fish out of water.
“Hey, Reno.” *bang bang bang*
“Shit,” Reno squeals, pulling the dildo out painfully fast. “Ow, ow, ow! Fuck! Shit!”
*bang bang* “Reno.”
There’s not enough time. Reno chucks the dildo into the box, pulls his panties back up as he rolls off the bed – landing awkwardly on his saddle-shoed feet – and scans the room as though to find an escape. “Shit! Shit!” He fumbles for the remote and jabs the right button, abruptly cutting off the maddening pop music. There’s not enough time. He reaches both hands up to the back of his head, but there’s not enough time and he knows it.
There’s the beep of a keycard being denied… denied… accepted. The door opens and Rude stumbles in.
In a moment of absurd stillness, the only movement is Reno’s hair tumbling down his back in a sweaty hank, the butterfly hairclip in hand, and a look on his face of utter shock. “Uh,” he says.
“Um…” Rude says as the door slowly closes and shuts with a defining *click* behind him.
It becomes immediately apparent that Rude is not himself. Sunglasses sit crooked on the bridge of his nose, coat unzipped, shirt half-untucked, trouser cuffs spattered with rain water, a generous bottle of cheap vodka in one hand, and Reno’s keycard in the other. Rude just stares, the eyes behind mirrored lenses unreadable.
Reno feels the blush that flushes his skin, pale face heating to an unparalleled rosy warmth.
In a move that’s anything but subtle, Reno nudges the box of sex toys back under the bed with the side of his foot. He finds his voice and a sense of humor, manages a smirk. “Little early to be boozin’ it up, huh?”
Rude is comically slow in his actions, looking at the bottle in his hand and then back at Reno. “Isn’t it a little early to be… uh…” His voice has thickened with liquor, and is all the deeper for it as he gestures weakly at Reno.
Reno tries to hide the twitching of his still-hard cock by walking forward, plucking the bottle from Rude’s hand. “Let’s water this down some, ‘eh?”
In the kitchen, Reno moves mechanically: two glasses, two handfuls of ice, orange juice, vodka.
Once back in the main room of the apartment, Reno sits on the bed to conceal the tenting of his plaid skirt, sipping from one of the glasses, holding the other out to Rude.
Rude continues to stare.
Reno is more unnerved than ever at his inability to read any emotion in Rude’s face or stance. Damn sunglasses.
Eventually, Rude straightens from his drunken hunch, approaches the bed, takes the proffered glass.
Reno debates. Should he excuse himself to the bathroom? There’s an absurd notion flitting through his head that changing his clothes will only draw more attention to them. Like Rude might not notice his six-foot male partner is done up in cosmetics and all the accouterments of a bad schoolgirl scene.
Rude drains half his glass and tentatively joins his partner, sitting gingerly on the silken sheets – pink this time – and staring out at the room. “’S ‘worried about you,” he mutters, and from the darting head movements, Reno can tell the man is glancing at his arm.
Reno covers the bandage on his upper arm with his opposing hand. “It’s fine,” he says, awkwardly raising his injured arm to take a sip of the drink, wishing he’d made it stronger. Well, who knows? Hell, maybe this is gonna be a fantasy come true.
Better yet, maybe Rude won’t remember it in the morning. Reno’s never seen him this drunk.
Reno glances around his own room. The makeup kit still setting out before the mirror. The girls’ backpack with garters and stockings leaking out of it. The glow-in-the-dark vibrator standing prominently at his bedside. Shit.
Rude clears his throat. “I didn’t know you… ah…”
Reno scowls. “Didn’t I tell you I was heading home to chill? Don’t you know what that means?”
“Um… apparently,” Rude says, “it means ‘don’t bother Reno because he’s about to go home and—’”
“Best not finish that sentence,” Reno says, and before he realizes what a horrible idea it is, he slaps his hand over Rude’s mouth. He immediately remembers what his hand smells – and feels – like, and withdraws it as though from a burning flame. “More to drink?” He grabs Rude’s half-empty glass and disappears back into the kitchen. He doesn’t bother with orange juice, fills up the empty space with vodka. He washes his hands in the sink, quick and furtive.
Back in the room, sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed, they sip their drinks, Rude’s cheek smeared with something shiny. Lube or precum.
Reno sees the lipstick ringing the edge of his own glass and grimaces. He knows that Rude is drunk, but no way is he drunk enough to ever forget something like this. There is no way Reno is ever going to live this down.
Reno can feel the wet snail trail of precum that dots his thighs. “Fuck it,” Reno says, setting his glass next to the glow-in-the-dark vibrator. “Say it. Whatever it is. Say it.”
Rude’s head turns in his direction, and Reno studies the three quarter profile, wondering – as always – what is churning beneath the dark, reflective sunglasses. “Do this often?” Rude finally asks, indicating the bed and Reno with a subtle chin jab.
With a grimace, Reno covers the bandage on his arm again. “Just sometimes. When I need to…” he sighs, “…escape.”
“Hm.” Rude nods, as though that makes all the sense in the world. “Don’t you ev—” He huffs out a breath and scratches idly beneath his chin, pulling his tie loose as his hand retreats. “Um, why… Why?”
Reno rolls his head, stretching the tight neck muscles, ending with a shrug, as though to shrug off his cares, as though his answer doesn’t matter. “Cause… it feels good.”
Rude nods again. Then the suggestion of a smile tints his lips. “You always do what feels good?”
A smirk precedes Reno’s, “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Wish I could do that.”
“Why not? Why don’t you? I mean, you’re drunk, anyway, right? Might as well do whatever the hell feels good. We could get some hookers and blow, go tear up a bar in the slums, or…” Reno leans over and pulls out a lone stocking, sadly limp and translucent. “But I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” he says with such a straight face that they both crack up, laughing hysterically.
Rude rolls over, laying sideways on the bed, his feet dragging on the floor as Reno hangs his head so low his red hair dangles between his knees.
Laughter fills Reno’s room for the first time in a long time.
Rude recovers first, his breaths heaving as his laughter peters out. He sits up straight, shoulders still shaking with the humor of it, watching Reno.
Reno with his loose red hair every which way and smeared lipstick. With pale creamy blouse half undone and all askew and pulled to one side, revealing the pale bony shoulder.
Reno with his ill-concealed erection pressing up against a pleated skirt patterned in private-school plaid. With fingernails the color of coral.
Reno with his black and white saddle shoes and pristine white knee-high socks, one fallen indolently down to pool at his ankle.
Just laughing, laughing.
Rude reaches out and takes the tan stocking, subtly testing the strength of it as Reno attempts to recover himself, sitting up straighter, though leaning dangerously to one side, listing like a broken ship that limped into harbor after a storm. Reno can’t have had that much to drink, surely. He blearily eyes his partner. “What’re you doin’, Rude?”
“Doing what feels good,” Rude answers, grabbing Reno’s hands and winding the stocking around narrow wrists.
His heart suddenly beats so fast, Reno momentarily suspects it will hammer right out of his chest as his hands are pulled roughly above his head. And Reno thinks:
I should say no.
I should stop this.
Before it goes too far.
Before anything can happen at all.
But it’s already too late, as his breath catches in his throat and his eyes roll wildly and he arches toward his partner, begging with his body alone until he says, “God, yes!”
Rude presses Reno back to the mattress and ties off his hands to one bedpost, calm and methodical, as though it’s something he does every day.
Reno never would have pegged his partner as a master of seduction, not in a million years. But Rude knows exactly what he’s doing, large hands dragging lightly along Reno’s forearms, hip brushing against Reno’s cock… twice.
His hovering bulk makes Reno hard as steel, just laying there under him.
Rude looks down at him, and all Reno can see is glass.
A callused thumb rubs along Reno’s red lips, traces his high cheekbones, his thin eyebrow, along a strong jaw.
Rude leans down.
“God-please-Rude…” it’s all one word, “if you’re gonna do this, let me see you.”
One hand slowly rises, grasps an earpiece, hesitates.
Then they’re gone. And Reno is staring up into a gaze more intense and heated than anything he could have imagined. With the picture complete, he notices Rude’s rough raspy breathing, the heat of him…
Rude stops Reno’s gasp with a kiss: a gut-churning, whore-making, breath-stealing kiss.
One strong hand braces itself on the bed, the other sneaks up under Reno’s shirt, the large pads of widespread fingers stretching along hot skin, drawing up to the pectoral muscles, massaging deep and firm before harshly flicking a nipple.
Reno gasps and surges up, but he can gain no purchase with which to manipulate his position. He can’t shift anywhere at all as Rude presses him firmly to the mattress, slowly layering his body atop Reno’s.
When Reno feels Rude’s hard cock prodding at his side, he thrusts his hips into suddenly empty air, slams his head back into the mattress, hollers something wordless and begging.
An unrelentingly strong hand clutches Reno’s leg, just above the knee, digging into the tough muscles there. Then the grip loosens, lightens, until it’s a whisper of flesh skimming up Reno’s thigh, too slow, agonizing, under the skirt, buzzing around to the outside of the hip to dance like a fly, back around to the inner thigh, dragging honey-slow.
Reno’s breath stutters and halts.
Rude touches him through cotton panties.
Even Rude can’t still Reno’s desperate thrusting or stifle the throaty whine. “Oh, gods, fuck me, fuck me, Rude, fuck me, fuck me—”
Rude shuts him up with a kiss again and hooks a finger around the elastic waistband. He pulls them down, careful over the heated erection, faster down creamy thighs. Rude moves away to slip them over spotless knee socks and black and white saddle shoes until he’s just standing there, breathing heavy, looking at the sight laid out before him.
Reno calms himself, but feels the flushing of his cheeks, and can’t slow his own breath as he looks at his partner. Reno slowly raises one leg, sliding one foot toward himself over the sheets to reveal himself as the skirt falls askew.
Rude looks at the panties in his hand, white with a tiny pattern of cherries all over. He raises a brow, humor evident in stormy gray eyes. Then he drops them and slides his jacket from his broad shoulders.
“Oh, Rude, the shirt, take off the shirt.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“I’ll shut up if you get naked.”
“Tempting,” Rude rumbles.
“Aren’t I though?”
Rude carefully unbuttons his cuffs. He pulls the loose tie from the collar and drapes it over the footboard. Button by button the shirt splits down the center like the parting of a ripe orange.
Muscles bulge like cords braided tight around heavy bone, bound with dark skin like caramel.
“Holy fuck,” Reno sighs out, because no pitiful glance in the locker room has ever even come close to this.
Rude might have been dead drunk when he’d walked in the room, but he’s stone cold sober as he steps out of shoes and socks, kicks them carelessly to the side. The belt slithers from its loops with the hiss of a demented snake and falls to the floor with a thump and gentle clink. Rude skims off the pants and underwear, revealing everything, dark skin patterned here and there with pale scars, muscles and hair, and a cock rising straight out from his body, large and heavy and painfully rouged at the tip.
Reno nearly levitates off the mattress in an attempt to get closer as Rude once more looms over him, cat-slow and predatory crawling up the bed.
Reno shuts his eyes, panting, so it comes as a complete surprise when Rude ducks down and takes Reno’s cock in his mouth.
He’s already so close, Reno goes off like a firecracker, hands a death grip on the bedpost, head pounding the mattress, hips bucking uncontrollably as he comes and comes and screams and comes.
“You make too much noise,” Rude tells him, lifting his head, casually wiping his mouth with the side of his thumb.
“Kiss me,” Reno says.
“You’re the one tied up,” Rude says, “that means I’m the one who gives orders.”
Reno’s blush deepens and he bats his eyelashes. “Yes, sir.”
Rude just stares a minute. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Just a little death,” Reno promises, lifting his head.
Rude covers him again, blanketing him this time, kissing him and kissing him as his hard cock prods between Reno’s legs. Rude slides an arm under Reno’s neck, drawing him close. As Rude leans to one side, his other hand flicks open the buttons of Reno’s blouse.
“How’s your recovery time?” Rude asks, his breath misting over Reno’s ear.
Reno bursts out laughing. He turns his head into the side of Rude’s neck and laughs out all his nervous energy, nuzzling and nipping as he does. “Uh, with you on top of me, it’s bound to be pretty impressive.”
Rude laughs, chest deep, and bows his bald head, using teeth and tongue to find all the sensitive spots there between neck and shoulder, harsher than he should be, which is perfect for Reno, who sighs into it, relaxes his arms, and rolls his head back like an angel, red hair falling all around like spools of unwound thread.
Rude touches that hair, runs his hand through it, pulls at it, winds it between blunt fingers.
Reno sighs and makes a noise, too soft to be a moan. His hips thrust in shallow, lazy circles and one heel digs into the bed as he works to aim his groin at Rude’s nearest thigh.
Despite his rock hard cock, there is no hint of impatience in Rude’s hands, hands that move without haste over Reno’s heaving body, inspiring new waves of pleasure at every touch.
Reno’s eyes are closed, body relaxed, lips slack with lazy delight. “Mm, God this is so much better…”
“Better than what?”
“Nothing. Get the lube. Fuck me, already.”
“Bossy, bossy,” Rude mutters, withdrawing with the suggestion of regret.
Reno’s eyes are mere slits, watching Rude’s fuzzy outline beside the bed.
Just laying there, his skirt flipped up, hardening organ exposed, hands bound, Reno realizes nothing is happening. His eyes drift open. “What?”
Rude stands there, shins almost touching Reno’s dangling foot. “S’just wondering. Should I make you beg for it or just drive it home.”
“Ungh.” Reno parts his legs more obviously. “Fuck me. Please.”
“ ‘Please?’ Who taught you that?”
“My momma taught me please and thank you, and ladies first and look both ways. But now I’m a fucking Turk, so just fuck me already… What are you waiting for, goddammit?”
“Bitch,” Reno accuses. “Cock tease!”
“Yeah,” Reno says, “it’s waiting for you.”
“You’re such a whore,” Rude says, his weight finally pressing down the mattress, filling up the empty space between Reno’s open thighs.
“What was your first clue?”
“This, for one,” and there’s that damn glow-in-the-dark vibrator again, looking surprisingly small in Rude’s large hand. “Did you have this inside you today?”
Reno gulps. “Yeah.”
“And do you grease it up and slide it in or do you play with yourself first, take it nice and slow?” Rude draws a line of lube along the rubber shaft and then slowly fists it, spreading the slick stuff all around.
Too tongue-tied to answer, Reno watches this suggestive play, large fingers pumping strange-green rubber. Then the vibrator disappears from his line of vision. The familiar tool presses directly at Reno’s center, and he’s already all opened up from before. But dammit he’s tight too, from the tension of Rude’s presence alone.
Still, it slides in without too much trouble.
All the way in.
Rude watches him with a closed face, watches Reno pant and writhe, hips performing a desperate shimmy as he works himself on the vibrator that Rude turns on with the press of a button.
For the first time in Reno’s memory, Rude’s grin is wicked and unrestrained in its wickedness. His hands are unforgiving and Reno forgets the concept of having any control over his body as he gives in to the religion of absolute pleasure.
Rude leaves the vibrator humming as he grabs up his discarded tie and draws it in feather-light circles down Reno’s exposed chest until it dangles between his legs, dancing on sensitive flesh.
His hands securely bound, Reno watches helplessly as Rude takes the tie in two hands, gently encircles Reno’s balls and hardening cock, ties a knot, and then tightens it into a makeshift cockring.
Rude just laughs and yanks out the vibrator.
“Shit, shit, shit, Rude!”
“You said you wanted to get fucked.”
“Better brace yourself then.”
Rude slicks himself with the shining lube, shoves a tasseled pillow under Reno’s ass, and lines himself up. “You ready?”
Reno leers and smirks and humps the air with his bound cock. “Fuck me!” he growls.
The blunt head prods at the tiny wrinkled rosebud, and pushes.
For a moment, it’s nothing but two men, two animals, pushing at each other.
Then Rude slides in, and in and in.
There is a frozen tableau for less than a second: two men arched in pleasure, faces etched in ecstasy. Then Rude’s heavy, heaving body crushes Reno’s and mouths meet messy and loose.
Rude starts thrusting, starts that inevitable chain of events, just like the chain of events that began when Reno and Rude first met.
Reno swears repeatedly; it’s what he does. “Fuck! FUCK! Shit! Rude, you’re so fucking huge, shit!”
Rude takes the compliment for what it is and slams him even harder. “Is that a complaint?” he asks.
“You like this way too much,” Rude huffs out, “you little whore.”
“I’m never going back to sex toys,” Reno stutters out as he’s fucked. “I’m gonna chain you to my bed.”
“You can try,” Rude laughs, aiming another kiss at Reno’s chemical-red lips as strong hips pump an unrelenting rhythm.
Rude is not quite silent, little grunts betraying him.
Reno is loud as day, swearing and shouting and just making a racket. “God, fuck, shit!” Those seem to be his favorite words, and in this moment they are his only vocabulary.
“You’ve got a dirty mouth, for a schoolgirl,” Rude pants. “You need a spanking.”
“Ha! Is that a promise?”
“First I’m gonna fuck your pussy raw.”
Rude pushes Reno’s thighs up until his knees can hook over Rude’s shoulders. Reno’s ass is off the bed as Rude plows it mercilessly. His hands are huge on Reno’s narrow hips, fingers bruising.
Reno pulls at his bonds now, straining against the strong stocking in a desperate bid for freedom, desperate to touch himself, to release his cock, let his balls drop down, let the orgasm come.
He sees his own cock, hard and dripping and frighteningly red. “That can’t be healthy,” he manages.
Rude struggles to maintain Reno’s position as he lets go of one hip to squeeze Reno’s cock, no friction, just squeeze.
“You wanna come?” Rude asks.
“Fuck, yes, fuck me, make me come, I—I wanna…”
Rude grabs both hips again and slams himself home over and over.
Reno can do nothing but give in. He’s lost to it all, the feeling, the trembling, the roiling, churning, tightening ecstasy.
Then Rude slows, frees his hand again, pulls the end of the tie.
Then, it’s gone, the pressure, the tightness, and Rude is pounding him again, hitting the place inside him. Stars burst behind Reno’s closed eyes. Then a hand closes over him, punishing and perfect.
Reno comes, out of breath, doused in sweat, hot and cold as he screams and his eyes roll back.
Rude convulsively pulls Reno tight to him and pumps frantically as the pleasure washes over him.
They collapse in a mass of limbs and shuddering breath.
Lips brush one another, brush necks and cheeks.
Rude’s hands fumble at the stocking that binds Reno’s hands, gently releasing him.
Reno regains his breath and pushes Rude’s shoulder. “Get off, you heavy brute.”
Rude pulls out with a sigh and Reno groans.
They lay side by side on silky pink sheets, drowsing and limp.
With a final sigh, Reno says, “I didn’t know schoolgirl was your kink.”
“It’s not,” Rude grunts.
“Oh? Could have fooled me. So,” Reno turns to his side to face his partner, “what is your kink?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has a kink.”
“If you’re still capable of complete sentences, I didn’t fuck you hard enough.”
“Oh God,” Reno says, his cock giving a half-hearted lurch. Then, “It was the dirty talk, huh?”
Reno grins. “It’s bondage, isn’t it? Boy, you were sure quick to—”
“It’s not bondage. Don’t you ever shut up?”
“Is it some kind of dom/sub thing? Cause I could totally get into that. Put me in a collar; I’m yours.”
Rude doesn’t say anything.
“Hah! That’s it!”
“That’s not it.”
“Is it something weird? Is it the girls’ panties? It’s the panties. Or the stockings. Is it some crazy fetish? Some people fetishize furniture or some shit.”
Rude glares at him.
“No, really,” Reno says. “Everyone has at least one little kink.”
“Don’t tell me you’re all vanilla, cause you were totally hot for me all tied up in the skirt and my little black and white shoes. Oh! I have this excellent navy sailor outfit for next time. I don’t have high heels, though… maybe I should get some… Do you have a foot fetish? Cause that’s just weird, man. I just really have schoolgirl stuff, mostly. I dunno why… except I sure get off on it. But I could dress up in all kinds of shit. How about—”
“How about you shut up.”
“Aw, is Rude sleepy?”
“Rude’s had a long day and thinks you should shut up.”
Rude grabs his tie and before Reno can think to retaliate, it’s stuffed into Reno’s mouth.
“mmmrph. Tho, thath mrr knk.”
“I don’t have a kink. Let’s get some sleep, huh?”
Reno spits out the tie. “No way. We’re gonna screw until our dicks are limp and crying for mercy,” he says, grinning wildly as he pushes Rude to his back and straddles his waist, the blouse fluttering weakly around him, damp with sweat.
Rude looks up at him in wonder. “You are gonna be the death of me.”
“Can’t wait,” Reno says, grinning like a crazy fiend as he leans down and bites Rude’s lower lip. “Mm. Yum. Heh, what was that you said about spanking? …oh my God, that’s your kink!”
= = = = =