Work Text:
Wall Market is a den of filth. Reno likes it, both for its depravity and also the fucked up law and order it enforces upon itself. A flimsy backroom alliance has all parties happy enough—Rufus keeps ShinRa looking elsewhere, while Don Corneo gathers secrets like poison to share. Means they hardly need managing; would balk and bitch at the attempt. So when Reno hits the alleys and slinks through the neon lights he’s not dragging work along with him for once, no pride, no responsibility, no voice in the back of his head calling the shots. He’s just some asshole with a wallet full of Gil and a lack of morals like the rest of them.
It’s been a few weeks since he had a couple days free enough he could indulge. Wall Market hasn’t changed in the interim. Smells like chocobo dung and heavy perfume, puke mixed with fried noodles and the sour note of beer, the even more sour stench of sweat. But it’s quiet today. No surprise, since it’s the middle of the week and Reno’s here early in the evening, before half the businesses open up.
That’s fine, though. He’s a regular where he’s headed, a VIP member after so long. They’ll let him in.
“Hey, Reno,” calls Alexi. “Been a while. You here for your usual? We have a new dollop of honey I think you’d like to try!”
Alexi is built like a brick shithouse and has feathers in his curling hair, glitter in his beard. The Honey Bee’s bouncer, standing solid in front of the velvet rope barring the closed doors. Reno cocks his hip and smirks at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Alexi gushes. “Magma we call her, like liquid fire. She’s a real beauty. I think Andrea cried a little first time he saw her dance!”
A high recommendation. Reno won’t be crying at her dance, but he’s down to try most anything out at least once. If he doesn’t like her he’ll move on, down the long hall with its peepholes to peer in at all the dancers, to find the one that sparks his desire. Like window shopping, only Reno gets an orgasm out of it rather than a new pair of shoes.
“Oho. I’ll be sure to take a peek.”
“It’s what you’re here for,” Alexi agrees, winking as he unhooks the rope and lets Reno in. “Have fuuun!”
-
In the time leading into proper working hours for The Honey Bee Inn, the peep show dancers are preparing more than anything. Men and women dressed in Andrea’s particular flair residing in their small, hazily lit rooms, like gaudy dolls in a box, waiting for someone to slide some Gil into their slot and bring them to life. As a VIP, Reno gets to sample the wares early if he wants, which he almost always does. It’s his favorite of The Honey Bee’s attractions. He likes the anonymity of it, the control. How he can walk down this hall like he owns each person he peeps in at, as if all the dancers are here for him and only him.
They’re not, of course. There’s one other VIP tonight, red bulb blazing over the closed door that hides them within. Reno ambles down the hallway, taking his time. Some bodies he recognizes, others he doesn’t. A few are stretching; another is reading a book with their legs spread wide. Reno finds Magma in the room with a red bulb attached, a woman draped in gauzy red scarves that trail from her arms as she dances. Her nipples are coated in gold, glinting and swollen.
Reno moves on.
He doesn’t want to share, though Alexi was right: she moves like a flame, hot enough to scorch and flickering bright.
No one else really appeals to him though. He’s in a mood, maybe. Overworked and stressed out with all the shit that’s gone down lately. Fucking Hojo and his escaped experiments causing a mess Reno’s glad not to have to clean up, but the headache just from being peripherally aware of the clusterfuck seems to have him temperamental. He needs a change of pace, someone he hasn’t tried before or a different vibe entirely.
Down the end of the hallway are what Andrea calls his Chrysalis Chambers. It’s a pretty way of saying they’re dancers on probation, who have potential but aren’t yet what Andrea wants. They dance to prove their worth in there, and either they come out a butterfly for Andrea’s collection, or they get the boot.
Only one is occupied tonight.
Reno doesn’t bother with the peephole in the dancer’s wall. There’s nothing else he wants, so he might as well settle here. Each dancer has a door on either side of their room, narrow slivers of space with a single chair, a pump bottle of lube, and a perfect view. Reno goes in a door and shuts it behind him, flicking the switch on the wall.
Outside, the red bulb hums to life.
Inside, the music starts, a slow sweet bass and surprisingly tender strum of strings.
“Fuck,” the dancer says.
Snickering, Reno flops into the chair, one leg crooked over the arm in a lazy sprawl. He’s in no rush. Not like the dancer can see him, either, with the one way mirrors that box him in. But his head is turned Reno’s way, something built into the room designed to let him know where his audience lies waiting.
He looks pissed.
He also looks like some bridal wet dream, all lace and pale gold and cream. There are delicate silk flowers in his long hair, which is teased into charming curls swept over stiff shoulders. A gold chain wraps around his neck and falls down his body, shining over his bared chest as he breathes in harsh and heavy, dangling down to his waist. His hands are in white lace gloves, clenched against his thighs, knuckling into the narrow expanse of bare flesh between his lace shorts and equally lacy thigh highs.
Reno immediately hits the button for the speaker set into their wall, drawling out, “Well you look miserable. Lace not your style?”
The dancer twitches. Reno can see how tight his jaw is, but his eyes are hidden by a wide band of fabric. That’s lace as well, meant to be mysterious but not actually obscure vision.
“It’s itchy,” says that surprisingly low voice.
Reno snorts. “Yeah. You’d look hot in it though if you didn’t also look like you’re about to fucking snap. I know Andrea doesn’t hold hostages. You sure you’re in the right place, babydoll?”
Shrugging, the dancer turns his head away. Still with that tight jaw, those stiff shoulders. He’s kneeling on a pile of pillows, pink and pale green that offsets his coloring. Reno wasn’t lying: the guy’s gorgeous in white lace, or would be if he acted half as sweet as Andrea’s trying to make him look. Beneath the blindfold his sulking mouth is pink and pretty, something Reno wouldn’t mind around his cock.
Yeah, Reno’s into it.
The look and the pisspoor attitude both.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” Reno coos, letting something a little mean seep into his tone. “I was just checking. But tell me, if you’re in the right place then why aren’t you dancing?”
“Why are you so talkative,” the dancer mutters. But he rolls his shoulders and then stands up, abrupt and awkward and fuck but he’s built lean and strong, all compact muscle and sleek lines. No heels, but his calves and thighs are shapely enough without the help. Reno’s mouth goes dry, staring at that toned stomach and the line of blonde hair disappearing beneath white lace. The gold chain slides between his pectorals.
“Babydoll,” Reno says belatedly, eyeing the guy’s bulge in those fitted shorts. “Don’t pretend you dislike it. This sweet talking tongue of mine is my best feature!”
“No wonder you pay for sex then.”
Reno cracks up, slumping down further in the chair. He eases up on the speaker’s button and lets the music take over, watching as the guy seems to center himself. That surliness gets tucked away, tension fading as he slips into a state of mind that’s nearly serene. When he finally starts dancing his movements are a little slow, unsure. But then—
Like he falls into the heart of the music, surrendering to the beat. He lets it move him.
Reno’s been waiting to see why Andrea’s sharp eye and mind would dress the guy like this: something pure and sweet, nothing at all like he seems at first glance. But there’s a raw ache in the way he dances. A tilt of his head or a looseness of the wrist that speaks to loneliness, as if he’s somehow lost.
It’s as heartbreaking as it is beautiful.
Reno watches him the whole length of the song. When it’s over, the dancer’s breathing deep and a little ragged, skin shining with sweat. He’s looking uncertainly at Reno’s window, like he doesn’t know what to do next.
Pressing the button once more, Reno husks out, “Keep dancing, babydoll.”
His shoulders slump, but when the next song picks up the dancer moves again. Fingertips skirting up his rib cage, face tipped back to expose that gold wrapped throat. Dips low to the floor, knees spread. Arches back up again like it’s effortless, all grace and power and unchecked misery, an emptiness that begs to be filled.
Not Reno’s usual preference at all. Yet he’s hard enough he’s tenting up his slacks, unable to look away.
“Touch yourself,” Reno tells him.
Maybe he’s entranced by the music, maybe he’s seduced himself with the motion of his own body—but the dancer doesn’t even flinch. Hands rove, rubbing against his bulge and smoothing over his thighs. He tweaks a nipple and shivers at the sensation, pink mouth open. A flush building from his chest to stain all that pale gold and cream as the dancer goes back to his dick, rubbing and squeezing and making soft breathy noises, nearly lost in the music.
Reno unzips, pulls his cock out.
“Babydoll,” he says, pressing the damn button with his shoe so he can keep touching himself, crown and shaft, hot skin and the pulse of desire loud in his body. That lace covered bulge has transformed: a hard length trapped by lace, snaking down the dancer’s thigh. Looks painful trapped in there, Reno thinks, licking his lips.
He forgets to say anything else until the dancer asks, “Y-yeah?”
Reno grunts, thumbing at his slit. What the hell was he going to say? He settles on, “Keep it up. Let me see you feeling good.”
“Sure.”
The dancer isn’t meant to orgasm.
Reno knows this. He’s seen his share of women and men in these rooms. They’re meant to tease, to get wet or hard or both, to bare their holes and moan and give the voyeurs in their hidden booths a show.
To get them off.
But Reno’s dancer sinks to his knees on a pillow and his cock comes out, lace bunched down beneath his balls. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t perform. He pants for breath and he whimpers in the back of his throat, jacking off in time to the sultry beat, the warbling melody. His cum hits the mirror near Reno, mouth open and hips jerking, dick pulsing with his release as he cries out.
Reno groans. Chokes out, “Well that’s—that’s it for your night.”
The dancer oozes limp onto the pillows, a boneless sprawl with his dick still out and shining wetly. One arm lifts to display a lace covered hand, a bit of jizz caught in the snowy white threads. He flips up his middle finger. “Yeah. You’d better tip me well enough to make up for it.”
“Sure thing, babydoll. Now just. Flip over and pull those fucking shorts down. Let me see that ass so I can—yeah.”
The dancer’s ass is a thing of beauty. Pert and small but toned enough to be a handful. He pulls one cheek aside, revealing an anal plug all glitzed out with rhinestones.
“Fuck! How big is that thing in you?”
The dancer hums, tilting his ass up some more. He clenches down on the plug. “Come see me again and maybe I’ll show you.”
Reno curses.
He manages to catch his own jizz before it hits the mirror at least.
-
Reno asks about him. “Oh, that’s Dazzle,” Elyse says, rolling her eyes. The antennas on her headband bobble. With the main doors near opening, the interior of The Honey Bee Inn is a hive of activity. Elyse leans closer to Reno over the heavy desk, pen twirling between her fingers as she adds: “More like dazed and confused, if you ask me. Was he catatonic or something when you peeked in?”
“Uh. What the fuck?”
“Oh, so he wasn’t, that’s a relief. He still has lapses sometimes, and—oh goodness.” Elyse seems to realize that, no matter how familiar Reno is or how much he tends to encourage a bout of snide gossip, she’s maybe letting loose a few too many trade secrets. She flushes beneath her heavy makeup. “Sorry, Mr Reno! I didn’t mean to babble. Did you have somebody you wanted to tip tonight?”
As a VIP member, Reno doesn’t have to pay for viewing rights. He already has. But he pulls out his wallet and teases out some Gil, enough to make Elyse blink in surprise.
“What can I say. Dazed and confused puts on a good show,” Reno says, smirking. “When’s he dancing again?”
“Tomorrow night. He’s in the Chrysalis Chambers for two straight weeks.”
Reno raises a brow. Leans in a little closer on the desk himself this time. “That’s a long probation. What’s got Andrea so spooked by him? Was he on drugs or something?”
But Elyse doesn’t let any more secrets spill free. She only winks at Reno and collects the Gil, chirping out, “We’re so glad you enjoyed Dazzle, Mr Reno. Come back and see us again soon!”
-
He’s wearing icy blue the following night. A high collared thing that’s almost a dress if it weren’t slit down the middle and sides, falling in sheer layers to the dancer’s upper thigh. “Hey, babydoll,” Reno coos, laughing when the dancer’s tension leaves him in a rush of irritation.
“You again,” he mutters. That sulking mouth is still too pink and pretty beneath the equally sheer blindfold.
“Me,” Reno agrees, getting comfortable in his chair. “What you gonna do about it?”
The dancer twitches, like he wants to make a snappy comeback but is coming up empty. Yeah, he’s trapped and it’s his own doing. Reno smiles, nothing kind in him as he looks the dancer up and down, admiring him—no shorts tonight, not even any panties. His cock’s a lot smaller when it’s soft, balls heavy and dark and barely covered by his hemline.
“You look real pretty, babydoll,” Reno drawls. “Is it itchy like the lace?”
“Hn. A little.”
Reno tsks. “You not used to delicate things? Or you just have sensitive skin?”
That tight jaw works a moment. He crosses his arms and then drops them again, like he’s remembering what Andrea taught him. Can't cover up the merchandise. He says, “Don’t know.”
“How’s that?”
“Fuck you,” says the vision in blue. “If twenty questions is your idea of foreplay then you can take your Gil and find someone else to play with you.”
Laughing, Reno goes ahead and gets his cock out. “All right, all right. Get to dancing then if you’re in such a rush.”
Tonight’s music is a tinkling melody full of melancholy and innocence. No pillows; only a ring of fluff like a platform of clouds. The dancer moves in slow spins, raising his arms and lifting to his tiptoes, like he’ll leap away. Like he wants to, if only he knew a safe place to land.
Reno’s hand is loose on his erection, a grazing tease as he watches the show. Evocative, emotional; Reno’s not used to the way his chest hurts watching. Wonders if he’s a freak for getting off on this: someone broken down and helpless. But so what if he is.
“Again, babydoll,” he murmurs when the song changes.
So the dancer dances again.
Reno can’t think of him as Dazzle. He’s muted and sad and angry, nothing about him dazzling. Daze might be better, but Reno doesn’t want to call him anything but what his real name is, which isn’t something he’s likely to learn. He’s just the dancer and babydoll, Reno’s own private show. Beautiful, if a little haunting.
Halfway through the next song, the guy grates out: “Made you a promise.”
“Oh, I remember,” Reno sneers.
“It’s—it’s not the same one,” the dancer says, heaviness twisting his words. He stops dancing, chest heaving for breath and making all those gauzy layers shift and flutter. Through the haze of blue Reno can see his dick fattening up. His own hand tightens a bit, pleasure spiking up a notch.
“No?”
“Mm. Bigger tonight. Got me uh, anal training.”
“Fuck,” Reno hisses. He’s got his foot on the button again tonight, so he wiggles a second hand down into his slacks and past his own balls, to press the pad of a dry finger to his own hole. “You can’t just say shit like that, babydoll! Gonna make me explode before I’ve even gotten a peek.”
“You want to see it?”
“You know I fucking do!”
The dancer ducks his head away, something sly and smug and a little angry in the set of his mouth. He faces the mirror that hides Reno from view and reaches behind himself, pink mouth falling open on a shaky exhale as he pulls the plug out. Reno can hear the squelching slide of it.
When it’s free, the dancer holds it up. A dark blue plug that’s not very big, slick and shining in the light.
“Ohh, you’ve got a long way to go, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” the dancer mutters. He drops the plug onto the ring of clouds, careless and dismissive. “There. Promise fulfilled.”
Reno can’t help but laugh. “The fucking letter of it. C’mon, babydoll! Don’t be as icy as you look. Let me see that sloppy hole.”
But the dancer doesn’t.
He rubs his hands over his own chest, rolling his nipples against the scratchy material covering him. “Maybe next time I will,” he says, voice stretched thin. Reno groans, hand tightening another notch. The fucking tease, he thinks, all admiration and lust.
“Feels good?”
“Y-yeah,” the dancer sighs, head tipping back. His cock fills, rising up through sheer fabric until it finds the slit in the middle and frees itself, bare and red and lovely.
“Touch yourself,” Reno begs.
“Already am,” is the snippy reply. But one of those hands leaves his nipples and reaches behind him. He grunts, and Reno assumes he’s playing with his hole. Testing the give, the stretch, the way it feels to finger himself when he’s all loose and emptied. His cock twitches, bobbing proudly before him. A bead of pre-cum shines on the tip.
Reno wants to lick it off.
Instead he leans back farther in his chair, pressing his finger down a little harder to light up his nerves, get his gut churning with hunger. His hand moves faster. When he comes, he groans and curses and feels it like a shock to his system. It’s release, but no relief with Reno’s dancer still hard and teasing them both.
“You done?” the dancer asks.
“Are you,” Reno replies, voice rough and low.
Like the turn of a key, the response seems to unlock something in the dancer. He moans and sinks to his knees. Abandons his nipple to take his cock in hand. The other is still reached awkwardly around back, fucking himself on a finger or two. He stops teasing. Chases after orgasm like it’s done him a wrong, vicious and brutal about it. Reno listens to the slap of his hand on his hard dick, the squelch of his fingers in his ass. Lewd accompaniment to the tinkling piano still playing it’s somber music.
He cries out when he comes. No jizz on the mirror this time, so Reno’s not distracted from the way his face twists, body tight and muscles tensing as pleasure moves through him.
“That looked like it hurt, babydoll.”
Panting in the aftermath, he manages a derisive snort. “Doesn’t everything?”
“No. Not everything,” Reno lies.
The dancer fists a shaky hand into his hair. Still with those charmingly fake curls, mused and messy, but no flowers this time. Just glitter spritzed into the spiky locks up top. He’s glimmering with sweat and jizz and fabricated sparkles, almost dazzling. He says, “Get out already.”
“What,” Reno teases. “No cuddles?”
“I’d sooner chew my own dick off,” the dancer huffs.
Laughing, Reno does as he’s told. He leaves a sizable tip for Dazzle at the front desk again along with a request. Elyse winks at him. “Your tastes are exquisite as always, sir!”
“Save it for someone who’s ego actually needs the boost,” Reno drawls.
Elyse pouts. “But flirting is fun!”
-
Rude messages him the next day to see if he’s free. Technically Reno is, but it’s his last day and he has plans. So he bails on his partner and heads back to Wall Market, to The Honey Bee Inn and his newest fixation.
“Did you check out Magma?” Alexi asks as he lets him in. “You’re not usually back this frequently!”
“Yeah. She’s real nice,” Reno offers.
And she is. Reno takes another peek at her. There are three other VIPs in today, two of them watching her. Reno squints through the peephole and sees nothing but her tits bouncing in the low sultry light. He moves on, down the hall to where Dazzle waits.
“Whoa,” Reno says, as soon as he’s in and has the button depressed. “This some new seduction technique?”
The music is already playing, reedy sounds and high notes that hang in the air like sweet moans a second from breaking. Reno’s dancer is in a sheer pink leotard, a heart shape cutout over his ass cheeks. He’s holding a plank pose, biceps swelling and body trembling.
“Are you an idiot?”
“Only when I need to be,” Reno says, grinning wide.
The plank changes to a series of push ups. Reno settles in, not exactly displeased to see all that muscle flexing and shifting beneath glittery gold skin. His hair extensions have been lengthened, thick tousles that hang past his shoulders, obscuring his face from view. Tiny pearl-sewn primroses have been woven in here and there.
“Pretty like a Princess today, babydoll,” Reno eventually says. “What’s the occasion?”
The dancer finishes his set and then flips onto his back, sprawled out loose and lazy. His dick is slipping out the side of the leotard, the fit not designed to keep him in place for long. Reno’s surprised his balls are still tucked inside the rosy pink fabric.
“You tip well,” he says, something surly not well hidden in his otherwise bland tone.
“I do.”
“Is this your fault?” he asks, groping out to his side and then lifting a toy into the air above him. It’s got a suction on the base and it’s not very long or very big to be honest, but it is a stiff stack of anal beads, each one progressively bigger.
Reno’s mouth gets dry. “I…may have put in a request.”
The dancer sighs. “I ought to stick it on the opposite mirror.”
“I’ll just switch booths,” Reno says, viciously amused. “C’mon, babydoll. I’ve been good. I don’t want to wait any longer. This is my last day off in a while.”
His head finally turns Reno’s way, cheek to his platform. Pink mouth pursed in a bitchy frown, equally pink blindfold actually fitted for once. Reno has to imagine the furrow of his brows. “You’re not coming back?”
“I will,” Reno promises. “But it’ll be late. Not every day.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t get off without me,” Reno tells him, which is stupid. Reno wouldn’t know even if he did, and he sells his body for a living. Reno can’t dictate how he chooses to do it, not within that capacity. But it doesn’t matter. It’s just a game. Reno can say whatever he wants in here. No one can judge him.
Well, except for his dancer, that is.
“You’re a needy little shit,” he mutters, rolling up onto his knees to face Reno’s mirror. His hair is a wild cascade of yellow, nipples pressing against the leotard’s thin fabric. His limp dick is still peeking out and the dancer finally notices, irritably shoving it back in.
“I think the adjective you’re looking for is obsessive,” Reno drawls, hungrily watching him get closer.
He slaps the toy’s suction against the mirror in one sharp, too-quick movement. The anal beads boing up and down with the force of it, perfectly placed for the dancer to back his ass onto them where Reno can see it all happen in exquisite, filthy detail.
“Possessive,” that low voice murmurs.
“Yeah,” Reno breathes out. “Yeah, that too.”
Up close, the guy is even prettier than Reno realized. Soft and sharp all at once, an impression of blue eyes behind the pink veiling them. Reno adjusts his chair a little, aiming for the perfect angle.
“I’m not dancing tonight. I already worked out. Let’s just…get this over with.”
Reno slouches back down, shoe up once more to get the button pressed, leaving his hands free. “Hey, that’s fine. It’s your show, babydoll. I’m just here to watch.”
The dancer’s mouth twists at that, angry and petulant. He starts rolling his nipples beneath his index fingers like a punishment. Settles onto his shins with his knees spread so Reno can watch the blood slowly fill his dick. It’s mesmerizing. When he starts pinching them between finger and thumb, Reno clears his throat and asks, “You like playing with your nipples?”
“No,” he grumps. “I do it cause it sucks.”
Reno barks a laugh. “Well, I’d like to suck them. Lick them and nibble a bit. See what kind of sounds you make when I do.”
In its sheer encasing, the dancer’s dick twitches.
Reno laughs again, but softer now, a little meaner. His slacks are getting too tight, but Reno refuses to blow his load before he gets what he wants. “Yeah. You and I both know what you need.”
“What I…what’s that?”
“Someone to take care of you, babydoll,” Reno coos. “Mess you up til you’ve got no fight left.”
“You want me weak?”
“Nah. Only want you feeling good.”
The dancer tries to strangle a moan, arching his back so his chest pushes out. One hand trails down his stomach to adjust his hard cock, pulling it off his thigh and tucking it back up under the leotard. He rubs it a bit through the fabric.
“That’s not too itchy?”
“Getting uh…getting used to it.”
“Mm,” Reno sucks in his lower lip, too hot in his clothes and so turned on he has to fidget in his chair. The toy looms, waiting in his peripheral. “Not the only thing you’re getting used to, is it? How’s your ass doing. Gonna fit all this in there okay?”
“Ngh. Uh. The…the biggest one. Might not.”
“Only one way to find out,” Reno decides, finally pulling his cock free. With a hitch in his breath, the dancer actually does as he’s requested. Clambers up onto his knees and shuffles around. The heart cutout in the leotard is perfectly positioned to reveal his hole when he bends low and spreads his knees.
His rim is wet already, loosened from fingers or plug, all drenched in lube. Reno moans, squeezing the base of his dick tight as the dancer rubs the toy against his crack a few times, testing the angle.
Then he catches the smallest bead, not quite an inch in diameter, against his rim. He pushes back against it.
Gasps as it pops in.
“Oh. Oh fuck yes. Babydoll, that’s gorgeous,” Reno groans, hand still a tight ring around his erection and not moving. He has to pay attention. Watch that pink rim clench tight, that toy disappear inside his hungry ass. Listen to him moan a bit as he stretches around the next biggest, the hard plastic bead slowly pushing inside him.
“Holy fuck,” the dancer groans, sounding wrecked.
Reno snickers. “Better than you thought?”
“Fuck off,” he grates out, pushing and pushing and then bearing down against the next bead, nearly two inches wide. He wails a bit when it finally pops in past his taut rim, three of them all swallowed up. “Fuck,” he whispers, voice shivery and bright. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
If Reno moves his hand even a little he’s going to shoot off like a damn rocket. Somehow he finds his voice, thick and dark with arousal, “Yeah, you like that. Good. Now slide off them. Leave the smallest in so you don’t have to find the toy again. Yeah, like that. Now push all that back inside, babydoll. Keep doing it.”
Moaning, the dancer does.
Reno watches his rim stretch and relax, clench and release. The dancer’s body shakes worse than when he’d planked earlier, head hanging low and ass tilted out, hungry to be filled.
“You gonna try the last one?”
With a broken sound, he pushes back, pressing his rim to the final bead. Two inches wide. The dancer whines, curses, and takes it in.
“Stay like that,” Reno gasps, staring at that filled up ass with its fluttering, abused hole clenched down hard. All those beads snug inside. He starts moving his hand, orgasm already coming for him, and it just gets worse when he notices the dancer’s own hand inside his leotard, the stitching at his thigh tearing as he makes space to fist himself, jerking off in time with Reno.
When the dancer gets close, he starts rocking back and forth a little. Reno gets a peek of that final bead forcing his hole to stretch with the fitful movement, and that’s it, that’s the end—Reno comes so hard he loses vision and hearing, gasping wild. His spunk hits the mirror this time, right over where the dancer’s ass is close and fucked open.
He blinks back to awareness, just in time to see the final bead pop out of the dancer’s ass.
“Did you get off?” Reno rasps out.
In reply, the dancer flops over onto his back, loose legs sprawled indecently wide. There’s a wet patch at the front of his ripped leotard. He’s heaving in breath, blindfold a little crooked.
“Tell me your name,” he says.
Reno’s still coming down from a hell of a high, so he says easily enough: “Reno. What’s yours?”
“Dunno,” says the dancer. “Don’t remember anything past a few weeks ago. Must be why this all feels so good with you.”
“Hey now. Maybe I’m just that good.”
“Eh,” the dancer lifts a hand and wiggles it flat back and forth in a so-so motion. “Anal beads did most of the work.”
-
Reno doesn’t get back to The Honey Bee Inn until five days later. Alexi lets him in past the rope and Reno doesn’t bother checking the rest of the merchandise, just heads back to the Chrysalis Chambers and—
There’s a red bulb over one of the doors.
Reno sucks in a breath, jealousy spiking nasty in his gut. He’s not a fan of sharing. Gnashing his teeth he peeks through the peephole, hoping it’s someone else and not Dazzle on display in there.
No luck.
Reno’s dancer is dancing for someone else.
He goes into the free booth, flicking the switch and sitting down. The dancer is in white feathers and stiff pleats today, a tiara atop his head and sheer stockings. Hair a loose braid over one shoulder, tangled with a strand of pearls.
The other VIP is speaking: “You have to try harder than that, sweetheart. C’mon, my fucking dog has better sex appeal than you!”
Jaw tight, the dancer flips his middle finger up at the hidden customer.
“Yeah, well fuck you then.”
After a moment, the dancer’s aggressive finger comes down. The other VIP must’ve left. He swings a wild face toward Reno’s window, white lace blindfold on like the very first time, but it doesn’t really hide his scowl. “You’d better not be a fucking shit too.”
“Babydoll,” Reno coos. “You know I am.”
The dancer’s shoulders fall, relief making him sag. “Oh. You.”
“Now, now. It’s just the two of us here,” Reno chides. “You scared away the rest of your audience. Go on and use my name.”
“Dickwad.”
Reno snorts. “Wrong,” he drawls.
“Fuckwit,” his dancer says, a smirk deepening the side of that pink mouth.
“You bratty little skank,” Reno breathes.
“I like how you actually sound impressed.”
Reno has to laugh. “I like you,” he says. “Pissy Princess that you are. Missed you. Did you miss me? Lie and say you did.”
“Sure. Wasted away without you.”
“No one tipped you, did they?”
The good mood flees the dancer’s face, jaw tight all over again and mouth tucked down in the corners. He crosses his arms over the feathered bodice he’s wearing, gripping his biceps. “One person. Not half as well as you.”
“You’re an acquired taste,” is Reno’s mocking reply.
“I didn’t cum for any of them,” his dancer says, still posturing. “You’re gonna pay me extra for that. Right?”
He’s not supposed to orgasm anyway, but sure. What’s a little extravagance when the cause is this surly and sexy? Reno doesn’t get up to much else besides this outside of work, he can afford it. “Babydoll,” he says, all saccharine sweetness with a roiling darkness beneath. “You give me what I want and I’ll pay you as much as you like.”
“Good.”
“Then what I want,” Reno says. “Is for you to say my name when you get off tonight. Deal?”
The dancer fidgets. His arms fall loose to his sides. He tilts his head and stares at the mirror, looking a foot to Reno’s right but still—looking for him. He says, “Deal. I’ve got another plug in. Moved up two sizes while you were gone.”
Reno wants to bite him. Right on his throat so he can’t say any other things to wind Reno up. He takes a harsh breath in and then manages to say, as if it doesn’t matter: “Hm, that dress looks pretty stiff. Think you can lay on your back and show it to me?”
“Maybe. Want to dance for you first.”
Reno’s a little surprised. “Yeah? You like this song?”
“I want to move,” the dancer says, shifting back and forth on his bare feet. “I get restless in a box. Too much energy.”
“Yeah, all right, babydoll.” Reno leans back in his seat, foot up on the button to keep the line between them open. “Dance as much as you want.”
So he does.
Dances for three songs straight like he’s dying inside, like he’s a bird in a cage and desperate for freedom. Reno wants to pin him down and fuck him until he’s still and sated, too content to try and run. When the last song winds down the dancer sinks to his platform, sprawls onto his back. Pulls off the lace panties the feathered skirt obscured from view and spreads his knees and lifts his balls to the side, letting Reno see the anal plug nestled between his cheeks.
“Feel better?”
“Not really,” he says, voice rough. But he pushes beneath feathers and takes his dick in his hand, strokes himself slow and sweet. “Reno,” he says when his toes start to curl, ass spasming around the plug. His dick leaks, hand still a patient, steady tease. “Reno.”
“Fuck yes,” Reno whispers, standing up abruptly so he can shuck his own slacks down past his knees. He throws himself back into the chair and gets his shoe back on the button to say, “Mind if I join you?” The sound of the pump bottle oozing lube into his hand is pretty unmistakable.
“And if I say no?”
“I’ll do it anyway,” Reno agrees, pushing a finger inside himself fast enough to burn a little, even with a slick glide. It makes the dancer laugh, a soft huff of amusement and the first time Reno’s heard him make such a sound. It gets ruined by a moan though, then another, and five minutes later the dancer cries out Reno’s name when he comes, loud and shocked, driven wild by his own tortuously slow pace.
Reno’s got two fingers up his ass and is fighting to stay at the same agonizing tempo his dancer set, but it’s fucking hard. His orgasm hangs just out of reach.
Like he can sense Reno’s struggle, the dancer reaches down, slides the thick plug out his ass with a sigh and tosses it aside. Then he says, “You wanna buy me one of these nights?” and lifts his spread legs up by the knee, showing off his ass and loosened hole, dribbling lube in the light.
Reno snarls.
Gets jizz all over his fucking shirt he comes so hard and so sudden. The dancer drops his legs and the act, smirking smugly. Tucks his arm behind his head and flicks down the ruffled feathers of his skirt.
“You’re a damned menace,” Reno praises afterward.
“You’ve got weird taste,” the dancer says back. “Guess it works out all right.”
-
Reno leaves the largest tip yet, payment for all those dry nights the dancer’s had, as well as more of his praises and preferences. Elyse looks skeptical, and Reno assumes that other VIP was just over here, doing the opposite.
Nothing else he can do about that. So Reno goes back home and gets a few hours of sleep before work begins again. Spends three days cleaning up a mess in Sector Two the boss doesn’t want his old man finding out about. Then has to listen to Hojo’s creepy musings when Reno’s beckoned to the labs on day four, ordered to go pick up his favorite specimen from Sector Five. She’s weird as usual and Reno feels like he always does whenever he kidnaps someone fairly innocent: tired and dull. He sneers to hide it, goes back home after and drinks a beer to take the edge off.
Goes to Wall Market before he can convince himself he shouldn’t.
“Babydoll,” Reno greets.
The dancer sits up, turning his face to stare intensely at Reno’s mirror. “You’re back.”
Reno is, even though he has to be up in four hours for a long flight. He’ll chug coffee and smoke to stay awake, though the nicotine hangover will be a bitch to deal with the next day. “Can't stay away from your sweet ass,” he says.
The dancer snorts. Lays back down. His platform is stuffed with pillows again. He’s naked except for a lacy black bra and matching blindfold, elastic tight enough it fits him well. His dick is soft, thighs sticky from lube. A plug is discarded amongst the pillows, just as sticky.
“You sound tired,” the dancer says.
Reno grunts.
“I’ll be off work in half an hour,” he says next. “If you want to fuck me for real.”
“The…the hell are you on about!?”
“Buy me dinner after,” his dancer says, and he sounds just as tired, just as dull and dirty and used up as Reno’s feeling. “I don’t care what you look like. You’re the only son of a bitch in this place who tips well and doesn’t piss me off.”
“Excuse you,” Reno splutters. “I have definitely pissed you off!”
“Yeah, yeah,” the dancer mutters. He yawns, wide enough to crack his jaw.
It’s a bad idea. Reno’s going to get in trouble with Andrea if he bends the rules this badly. And if he causes a big enough problem then Don Corneo will catch wind, and so will Rufus. But Reno…he wants it. Wants this bitchy man he barely knows in all his lace and petulance, enough that he’s willing to risk it.
“What do you want for dinner?” Reno asks.
His dancer groans. “Who cares. Buy me some fucking ramen. If it’s hot I’ll eat it.”
Reno laughs. “Yeah, all right. That can be arranged.”
-
He still leaves a tip at the front desk, even though they don’t do anything more than sit and listen to the music. Reno almost dozes off; is pretty certain his dancer absolutely does, if the way he snorts upright five minutes to the end of his shift is anything to go by. Reno slips into the alley across from The Honey Bee and waits.
A man in baggy canvas pants, a simple ribbed tank, and a black lacy blindfold joins him a few minutes later. He looks different without all his skin showing, Reno thinks, even with his hair extensions still in and that blindfold on.
He stops uncertainly in the alley’s entrance, doing a quick sweep before he looks at Reno, head cocked curiously. “Uh. That you?”
“In the flesh, babydoll,” Reno says, waving a hand at all his lanky magnificence. He’s got shadows under his eyes and stubble on his chin, but whatever. He’d bet he’s still easier on the eyes than most.
“Well damn,” his dancer says.
Reno snorts. He’s about to ask if the guy can even see with that blindfold on out here in the grime, but before he can get a word out a body slams into his. Too fast, and Reno gasps and his hackles raise all at once, battle ready, but—
A mouth finds his, hot and greedy.
Reno forgets warfare and groans, sinking into the kiss. Finally, he thinks, nipping at that pink lower lip and then licking inside when his dancer takes in a startled breath. When the body pinning his against the wall goes loose and weak, whimpering at Reno’s tongue fucking his mouth, Reno starts scrabbling with the guy’s belt. Shoves his pants and boxers down and gets their positions flipped.
Shuddering all over, his dancer widens his stance, fisted hands pressed to the graffiti on the bricks he’s facing. “Get in me,” he growls. “I’m so fucking loose from that stupid plug. I hate it.”
“Can do, babydoll.”
Reno gets his dick out. He’s not quite hard enough, but the rim he presses against really is loose, soft and malleable. Reno shoves in easily, moans at the heat that encases him, still slick from earlier.
“Reno,” his dancer mumbles, pushing back.
“Yeah, yeah,” Reno breathes out. Then he’s rocking inside that body, shallow movements that feel good, make his dick finish filling out. Make his dancer press his forehead against the wall and moan, low and filthy.
Soon as he can, Reno starts pulling out farther, fucking in rough and fast. Gets that tank pushed up to bare a muscular stomach, Reno’s palm flat on skin so hot he feels as if he’s burning up, a fire hidden inside that’s raging to get out. Reno remembers him dancing like he was trying to break free and sets about fucking him like he’s wanted to since then, leave him gasping and hollowed out, formless in Reno’s hands.
“Reno,” he grits out, a whine caught between his teeth. “Reno, make me cum!”
“What, you been saving it for me?”
“Yes!”
Right. Instead of fucking him to complacency, Reno’s caught up in the flash fire, easy as that. Sweat drips into his eyes as he gets his free hand around his dancer’s dick, squeezing like he’s going to wring him dry. Gets a mouthful of hair and his teeth set into a fabric covered shoulder blade. Snarls at how good it all feels, fucking raw in a back alley where anyone can wander by and see them at it.
“Fuck! Fuck, Reno!”
He’s so damn loud, Reno’s gone dizzy with it. Savage, too, biting down harder, fucking his hips in rougher, deep enough he hopes his dick can be felt all the way in the dancer’s throat, a pressure he can’t breathe around, something for him to damn well choke on. From the muffled sounds he makes, Reno thinks it’s working. Whimpers and moans and bitter, bitten off curses. He yelps when he comes suddenly and without warning. Like it hurts or he didn’t expect it; caught by surprise, bowled over by pleasure. Wet heat sliding between Reno’s fingers and then smearing over golden skin when Reno adjusts his grip, fingers clutching at his dancer’s hips for leverage.
“Hell, babydoll,” he gasps out. “Think I’m gonna keep you after this. Just ngh. Just keep you in my bed all the time. Fuck you whenever we feel like it.”
His dancer huffs a laugh, still bent over and with his head hanging low now, palms flat against the wall. “Learned I don’t like cages,” he murmurs.
“Fine,” Reno snarls. “Give you a fucking key then!”
In reply, his dancer clamps his loose ass down as hard as he can on Reno’s dick. Reno’s orgasm roars through him and he fucks his own cum as deep into that greedy ass as he can before pulling out to watch it splurt past the loose rim. Messy white globs that drip down his taint and hit his pants bunched down around his knees.
“You can’t go sit down and eat like that,” Reno says, sounding as winded as he feels.
“The fuck I can’t,” his dancer replies.
He bears down and more cum trickles out, filth that hits the concrete this time. When he’s satisfied, he shuffles away from the wall and pulls his boxers and pants up. There’s a wet patch down the inseam on one side.
“Anyone here has seen worse,” Reno decides, shrugging with one shoulder and then pulling his own clothes into order. “Guess I was wrong.”
The dancer smirks, smug and content and stupidly, unbearably pretty. Then he says, “Y’know. You’re better looking than I expected.”
“It’s the cheekbones,” Reno smirks.
“And the,” he waves an awkward hand. “Hair. I like it.”
Reno’s smirk gets wider. “Yeah? And I like it when it gets pulled on,” he teases, reaching back to snag the messy tail of it, swinging it like a leash. “But I’m surprised you can even see me out here,” he says. “What with that blindfold still on.”
“What?” Reno watches him reach up, touch the edge of the lace in surprise. “Oh. My vision is good, I guess,” he says. “Didn’t realize I still had it on.”
“Well take it off! I’ve been dying to see those eyes of yours, babydoll. I’m thinking blue.”
“Hazel,” the dancer grunts, pulling off the blindfold. It gets tangled in his hair extensions and Reno has to slap his hands away before he rips them out in agitation. When the blindfold is finally free, Reno turns his head to say something mocking when all thoughts are kicked right out his head, leaving it empty and ringing.
The dancer’s mako-tainted eyes stare back at him, almost too close to be in focus.
“Those ain’t hazel,” Reno wheezes. “Holy fuck!”
“Blue-green then.” The dancer jerks his face away, jaw going tight. “Whatever,” he says, tone gruff. “Andrea said it was best to hide them. Dunno why they’re all weird.”
“No kidding.”
That bright, glowing gaze cuts Reno’s way again. For the first time, he gets to see the furrowed brow that goes with the petulantly curving mouth. “The fuck’s wrong with you.”
Reno shrugs a little, laughing wild. “Sleep deprivation,” he says, giddy as the thoughts rush back into his brain, too many all at once and holy shit, holy shit, those are SOLDIER eyes or something like it. He says, as if it’s no big deal: “You really don’t remember anything?”
“No,” the dancer grunts. Then he says, “Well. I get…dreams sometimes. Impressions. Nothing that makes any sense.”
“Mysterious,” Reno mocks, laughing sharp and bright again at the disgruntled look he’s given. Fuck the man is pretty. Even when he’s pissed and surly, that’s a face Reno would gladly fuck again. “So fucking touchy, babydoll! Didn’t you just jizz all over that wall?”
“Fuck afterglow,” he grunts. “Too hungry for that shit. You feeding me or what?”
Reno drawls, “Deal’s a deal,” and offers up the blindfold like a peace offering. It gets stowed in a pocket and, yeah—now that Reno’s looking for it, those canvas pants and ribbed tank sure are familiar. Reno’s still snickering about it all as they head to the ramen stand, open despite the hour.
“Fuckwit,” the dancer says, eyeing him with a peculiar mix of distaste and fondness.
Reno winks. “You love it.”
“Sure,” he says. “Love it like a bullet to the brain. Now buy me my fucking food, Reno.”
-
“What do you spend the tip money on?” Reno asks, watching his dancer inhale a second bowl of ramen. “I mean, I know you don’t have much. I’m the only fool who’s got a taste for freaks of nature, so you’re limited to my generosity. But still. What you want?”
The guy shrugs, wiping his mouth with his thumb. “Haven’t spent any yet.”
“No shit?”
“Thought about a gym membership,” he admits. But he’s staring down into the broth like it holds the secrets he’s forgotten, something bitter twisting his pretty mouth.
Reno hums, tapping his fingers against the counter they’re seated at. “Boring.”
“Yeah.” He starts eating again. “But hey. There are shittier ideas. Could spend it all on strangers in a peep show.”
“Oh, fuck off!”
His dancer smiles a little. Eats some more.
Reno’s reeling suddenly with how much he wants to kiss him. And he’s exhausted and has work in two hours and he thinks: fuck it. Leans over and knocks the ramen bowl out of the way, ignoring his dancer’s muttered curse. When he turns, Reno tilts his head and kisses him.
“Oh,” his dancer breathes, a quiet murmur against his mouth. “You uh.”
Reno licks at the seam of him, thrilled when the guy grumbles but opens up, tangling his tongue with Reno’s. He tastes like pork and salt. Reno sucks his tongue a little before pulling away, sitting back.
His dancer’s fucked up eyes are half-lidded and a little hazy. He licks his lips.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Reno sneers at him, but his blood is pumping already. “What’s it going to cost me, babydoll?”
“New clothes,” he says. “And I get to fuck you this time.”
“Done.”
-
They make it back to Reno’s apartment in record time. Clothes come off, a boot takes out a lamp when it’s kicked free. Someone almost trips on Reno’s cat but their arms are wound around each other, stumbling together, until a body too strong for its build lifts Reno up and tosses him belly down on the bed.
“Oof,” Reno complains.
“Sorry,” his dancer says, and then a body covers Reno’s own, mouth sliding up the side of Reno’s neck. It’s a blanket of muscle pinning him down and Reno’s eyes flutter shut as he decides to just go with it, letting his body get loose, receptive, breath shuddering out of him and blood sparking hot.
“You sure you don’t remember your name?” Reno asks, voice unsteady as rough hands pull his clothes off. “Or should I just shout Babydoll when you cream in me?”
“Fuck,” his dancer mutters. “I…”
While he thinks about it, Reno gets comfy, cheek pillowed on his familiar blankets, arms wrapped around his head. His dancer knows what he wants and how to get it. Weeks under Andrea’s tutelage will have seen to that. Reno doesn’t need to do a damned thing.
“Huh.”
Reno blinks his eyes open, twisting his neck a little to peer sideways at the man looming over him. The ends of his hair extensions are feather light against Reno’s bare skin. He looks surprised.
“You remembered,” Reno guesses.
“Yeah. It uh. My name. It’s Cloud.”
“Cloud,” Reno says, testing it out. He smiles wicked when it makes the body over his shiver. “Pretty name for a pretty thing like you, babydoll.”
“Thanks,” Cloud says, tone dry. “Lube?”
“Left nightstand.”
The revelation of his dancer’s name doesn’t feel like much, not when weighed against the secrets glowing green in the depths of those ice blue eyes. But Reno likes it anyway: that no one else knows it but him. Possessive, obsessive, a little bit needy. Reno’s all those things, so he says Cloud’s name as the man preps him, and again when he slides inside, big and hard and unyielding, and he moans out, “Ah, yeah! Harder, Cloud, c’mon!” when he wraps Reno’s hair around his hand and yanks, just to glory in the power of it.
“Reno,” Cloud gasps out, fucking in hard, a bit wild.
“Yeah,” Reno moans back. “Go on, give it to me, babydoll. Fill me up, fuck!”
Cloud does, groaning and thrusting his hips so hard it hurts a little with the intensity of it. Reno’s shouting, and the pain blooms into pleasure as heat fills him up, that hand in his hair pulled taut enough Reno’s got tears in his eyes and a strain in his neck.
Then it’s over and Cloud collapses on him.
“Fuck, you’re heavy!”
Grumbling, Cloud slides off, collapsing to his side. He’s breathing hard, pink all over and with an expression on his face that’s half torment and half nirvana.
Looking at him, Reno has a thought.
“Y’know, even if you fucked someone before, you don’t remember it. That makes me your first time, doesn’t it?”
“Ugh,” says Cloud.
Reno laughs, then pushes his trembling limbs upright so he’s on all fours. His dick is still hard. Flopping onto his back, he checks the time. “I’ve got ten minutes before I have to shower for work. You better slick that hand up and put it to good use if you want those clothes.”
“Such a fucking needy shit,” Cloud mutters.
But he gets up, grabs the lube. Kisses Reno with lazy, filthy intent as he jerks him off, swallowing down his cries like he’s still hungry, like he’ll never be satisfied.
-
While he’s filling his to-go mug as high as it’ll go with caffeine and hunting down his emergency stash of smokes, Reno lays the bait. “I won’t be back for like two days, so you’ll have to wait on the clothes.”
“Fucking seriously?”
Reno rolls his eyes, finding the cigarettes in an empty sugar jar. “Relax, babydoll. I’ll be good for it. You know I will. Why don’t you stay here in the meantime? Feed my cat for me.”
“It’s weird you have a cat,” Cloud says. He’s standing awkward by the entrance to the kitchen, back in his dirty, semen stained clothes and watching Reno closely.
“Why the hell is it weird? Cats are low maintenance and awesome!”
Cloud shrugs and then looks a little spooked when the cat comes in like she knows they’re talking about her, rubbing against his calves and treading all over his bare feet.
“Her name is Flora,” Reno offers.
When Cloud just looks more spooked, Reno snorts. Stomps over to pick the furball up and drop her onto Cloud’s chest. “For fuck’s sake! She won’t bite unless you piss her off. You can pet her.”
“Did you name her?”
“Fuck no,” Reno says, checking he has everything he needs for work. “Some weirdo flower girl I have the misfortune of knowing dropped a stay kitten on my lap a year ago. Name’s her fault.”
“Huh.”
“So. You staying?”
Cloud cradles Flora carefully. His brows are furrowed and he won’t look at Reno. His jaw is tight. “Andrea won’t let me come back,” he says.
He won’t. And when Reno doesn’t go back either he’ll know what happened. Reno will have to avoid Wall Market for a good long while, hoping it’ll all blow over. A risk, but Reno’s still willing to take it if it means he gets to keep Cloud for himself. He coaxes: “C’mon. We both know he was going to put you on glory hole duty at the end of your probation. You were a shit peep show dancer, Cloud!”
“You liked me well enough,” he says, peering up through lowered lashes. Flora purrs, rubbing her cheek against Cloud’s neck.
Reno’s mouth gets dry, staring at him like that. “Yeah,” he rasps out. “Still do. So, how about it. You wanna be my sugar baby?”
Cloud smiles a little. “Well. I’m already your babydoll.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Then I may as well,” Cloud decides, turning away and taking the cat with him down the hall. He yells over his shoulder, “Key!”
Reno hears the shower start a moment later, Flora hightailing it out the bathroom to hide under the couch. She may never forgive Cloud after this. But Reno’s content to find out, so he finds the spare key in the junk drawer and leaves it on the counter along with a fat stack of Gil in case Cloud doesn’t want to wait for new threads. Heads out and locks up behind him, whistling a jaunty tune as he drags his sleep deprived, well fucked ass to ShinRa HQ.
-
“Hey,” Rude says, halfway to Costa del Sol. “You hear? They’re disbanding the team looking for Hojo’s experiment.”
“That so?”
“Boss wants to move forward with AVALANCHE,” Rude tells him, aware of how tired Reno is and doing his best to keep a conversation going, trying to help him stay awake. “So uh. He’s shutting down a lot of operations. Work’s probably going to be busy for a while.”
“When isn’t it?” Reno snorts. Then he can’t help but add: “Pity we weren’t on the case, eh partner? Bet we would have nabbed him easy.”
“Maybe,” Rude allows.
Reno just grins, eyes on the horizon and head full of Cloud.