Reno walked briskly up the stairs and down the hallway to his shared apartment, appearing behind Rude in the kitchen before the bald Turk could fully register the opening and closing of the front door. Reno snaked his arms behind Rude and pressed himself against the taller man with a hot whisper, "Take off your clothes." His mouth hung slightly open with an expectant grin.
Rude shrugged off the redhead's advances with a curt, "No." He continued to chop the vegetables in front of him without missing a beat. "I'm making dinner."
Reno rolled his eyes and scowled. He soaked in the current scene of bland domesticity – it sickened him. Fidgeting nervously, he watched his partner's expert knife cuts, which were exquisitely precise like everything else created (and destroyed) by his hands. Reno tried again, this time deftly cupping Rude's crotch as he frenetically licked and suckled his neck with the slightest hint of teeth.
Rude unapologetically shoved Reno off himself and into the countertop. "I said no."
Reno backed away with narrowed eyes, refusing to accept defeat. He sighed as his heart raced – is this truly how boring they've become? Reno missed the fires of spontaneity, the same which forged the pair's "relationship" (god, Reno hated that word) to begin with.
Too much stress, too much booze, and sheer convenience – and maybe a little manipulation – led to their first hook-up. Reno knew Rude was straight (or at least Rude was convinced he was). But when the redhead's mouth was between his legs after a particularly trying week at work and their blood was sufficiently saturated with alcohol, Rude relented and obliged. The encounters increased in severity and frequency until they became regular and second nature, as natural as their usual drinking sessions.
In the beginning, a typical rendezvous occurred in a bathroom stall of a seedy bar, the stench of liquor and cigarettes clinging to them as Reno desperately rode his partner's cock (never facing him, of course) while showy, lustful moans emanated from his throat – which often provoked Rude to clamp his gloved hand over Reno's mouth and fuck him harder. Over time, certain glances would be shared in the workplace, and the two would find themselves in supply closets, break rooms, elevators, on Tseng's desk. And eventually, they visited each other's apartments for reasons beyond cheap pizza and booze. The first time they fucked in a bed – after intimately discovering each other in nearly every other setting – felt surreal.
But at some point the fucks became less rough, less carnal. Touches started lingering longer, names were drawn out more before orgasm, hands clasped, and… the kissing. Reno can't remember who kissed who first – only their shared incredulous reaction of, "What the fuck was that?" Reno had endured countless brushes with death as a Turk, but none seemed to leave him as wild-eyed and panicked as that first kiss with Rude, especially considering that he actually, almost, kind of, enjoyed it.
It only continued to evolve from there – the sex became gentle, look-into-your-eyes, kiss-me-as-you-come, sober, secure, boring, and mundane. The two Turks' friendship bled into their sex life; they even began to confide in each other during pillow talk (after helping clean each other up with a towel), and the "I love yous" became inferred even if never spoken aloud. Slowly, Reno's belongings made their way into Rude's apartment and they were eventually living together in domestic (sort of) bliss.
Reno resented it.
What should have felt like safety and contentment ate away at Reno with anxiety and insecurity. Reno craved conflict. Growing up in the slums, love was modeled to him with yelling and abuse by his mother and her revolving door of boyfriends. The entwinement of conflict and love was etched into his psyche from a young age – the ringing in your ears after the yelling, cuts and bruises on swollen skin, the adrenaline rush during and its subsequent crash. Conflict felt real. Conflict felt like home.
Reno was driven to create conflict, almost automatically. He leaned back on the kitchen table behind him, carefully crafting his words to hurt Rude and invoke the discord he desired.
"God, Rude, this is half the reason I have to fuck other people, you frigid bitch." Reno tensed as the words fell from his lips. He knew it wasn't entirely true but he was able to spit the words convincingly due to his proficiency as a venerated Turk interrogator.
Rude scoffed and glanced at Reno behind him. It wasn't difficult for a Turk to call the bluff of a fellow Turk. He knew this game Reno played, and since he was feeling especially short today, he decided to add fuel to the fire instead of defuse.
"No," Rude's deep voice uttered in a matter-of-fact tone, "you fuck other people because you're an emotionally damaged slut." Rude unceremoniously plopped the contents of his cutting board into the hot skillet which responded with a sizzle.
There was truth in that statement, and Reno acknowledged it. Reno couldn't stop himself from engaging in drunken trysts with random men and women (and sometimes in-between – his only requirement was being a legal adult since even Turks have vestigial moral compasses), typically when he and Rude were separated by work missions. The thought of sleeping alone those nights was intolerable to Reno – his heart would race and his palms would clam up when he tried, and the aching, codependent hole in his chest was readily patched by detached, ravenous sex with individuals he wouldn't be able to pick out of a crowd the next day. When the partners were eventually reunited, Rude would notice the new marks and bruises on Reno's pale form, and he would silently inventory them with an almost indiscernible brow furrow before claiming his body for himself – driven to create larger bruises and deeper scratches in an act of primal territorialism.
But now it was Reno's turn to scoff. "Okay, so I'm the slut, even though you've fucked other women." Reno crossed his arms limply. His stomach tightened and his skin began to burn – he was relishing in this.
Rude played a part in their dysfunctional refrain as well. Rude used Reno's dalliances to justify his own – it was tit-for-tat, but Rude couldn't pretend like he didn't enjoy it. Rude never considered himself to be gay, or really even attracted to men in any way – but Reno was an exception. Rude would joke that Reno was as close to a woman as a guy could get with his pretty face, slender body, and long red hair. (Reno never considered that a compliment.)
In spite of that, Rude had started taking women home from the bar after acknowledging Reno's indiscretions. He would bring the women to the apartment while Reno was there – a line Reno had never crossed – casually excusing his "roommate" before taking them to bed. Reno would be left in the other room, face flushed and with his hand down his pants, because even if he would never admit it out loud, that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach turned him on.
Smooth skin, perky breasts, and feminine moans felt like revisiting an old vice for Rude – unfortunately, no woman managed to make him come as hard as Reno could. Rude's affairs dwindled, not necessarily out of respect for Reno, but because the effort exerted outweighed the benefit received – simple logic.
Rude responded to Reno's words with quiet sigh through his nose. He meticulously stirred the contents of the skillet with a firm (almost too firm) grip on the wooden spoon.
Reno winced a bit as niggling insecurities wormed their way to the surface of his mind. He knew he was a deviance to Rude's sexuality – and he knew Rude was not one to often entertain deviances. Rude preferred definite, defined, black and white. Reno was an outlier and a gray area – an impediment to logic. How Reno managed to ensnare Rude was sometimes a source of tension for them both.
"I bet you'd fuck me right now if I had tits and a cunt." Reno smirked sarcastically. Rude ignored him, his usual tacit demeanor emitting a particular iciness. Reno decided to adjust his strategy. "You wanna know why else I cheat on you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Because I like hurting you. I like getting to see some goddamn emotion on your face for once." Reno tilted his head back as he contemplated the sure-to-be-ensuing rift. "I know you'll still come back to me anyway, like some sad, desperate fag. Man, you really are fucking pathetic for staying with a loser like me!"
In an instant, Reno felt his head spinning as it collided violently with the kitchen table behind him, guided by Rude's strong hand gripping the side of his head, his fingers entangled in Reno's red tresses.
"Shut the fuck up," Rude stated firmly before yanking Reno's pants down to his knees and undoing his own pair, the sound of his zipper causing anticipation to tighten within Reno's stomach. Rude gave himself a few fervid strokes before positioning himself behind Reno. "Is this what you want?"
Searing pain shot through Reno as Rude roughly shoved himself inside his entrance. Rude continued with quick, almost brutal thrusts as he grabbed Reno's slender wrists, holding his arms behind his back with the same powerful grip he used to crush windpipes.
Reno gritted his teeth and fought back vocalizations of discomfort, only allowing exasperated pants to escape his lips. Reno could feel himself tearing around Rude's cock – the sharp pain radiated through his body, his head pounded, his vision blurred. After one particularly vicious thrust, a short, "Ah!" fell from his mouth as stinging tears squeezed from eyes and stained his face.
Reno was alive and aflame amid the tumult and chaos. The pain in this moment was real and tangible – he felt it and believed it and reveled in it – unlike the nebulous uncertainties of love or kindness. He continued to burn as Rude fucked him mercilessly, Reno's cock fully erect as lightheaded dizziness engulfed him. The physical agony stretched the minutes into eternities until Reno felt Rude's grip loosen on his wrists, followed soon after by a hot sigh against his back. Rude bit into Reno's shoulder as his cock twitched inside Reno with forceful spurts of hot cum – one last violent parting gift – one that pushed Reno over the edge with his own release onto the kitchen floor.
Reno shuddered as the pain transitioned from all-consuming, sharp and searing to a dulling ache. Rude nonchalantly removed himself from Reno, leaving a sticky trail of blood and semen dripping down Reno's leg. He replaced himself inside his pants and steadily fastened his button and zipper.
Reno's knees buckled as Rude detached himself. He braced himself against the kitchen table with weak arms as he heaved pants laced with both exhaustion and relief.
Rude turned back to the stove. "Clean yourself up," he dictated in familiar monotony, "it's time for dinner."
Reno pulled up his pants and began to exit the kitchen hurriedly with a nearly imperceptible limp. Before making his way out the door, he turned to glance once more at Rude. As he saw Rude fixing two plates, Reno smiled.
Maybe this domestic shit isn't so bad.