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[astraphilia]

[ but then he moves, turning Reno to push him up against the wall and wrenching an arm behind his back with a force that comes just shy of pain. Reno's body goes taut, a live wire, and he flexes against the hold but doesn't try to escape it. he's immediately hard—it's been a long time since someone treated him like this, long enough that Reno had almost forgotten how it makes him feel.

(even leaving aside the twelve brutal years of the war in Wutai, only some of which Reno had even seen firsthand: there was the mess with Genesis, and then the mess with Sephiroth. the death of Aerith. the summoning of Holy, and of Meteor, the crush injury to the planet and the city flattened. the surge of the Lifestream laying waste. then the geostigma, the plague deaths. the threat of Sephiroth's remnants come to claim the planet for themselves.

a decade, give or take, of Reno living just to die, with the knowledge that he would take a bullet to the brain no thought or question if it meant saving the President's life, or Rufus' life, or Tseng's life—a decade without a single significant emotional connection, just in case it were to become a weakness or collateral damage—a decade of an adrenaline threshold so high that the ends of Reno's nerves feel burned out, so that it's only when something could kill him that he feels truly alive.

and now, this place. with no Turks, no ShinRa, no Sephiroth, no AVALANCHE, no need for Reno to spend half his time looking over his shoulder. is it any wonder he's getting his thrills in the current most dangerous place in the city?) ]

I'm sure you'll do your very best. [ he grins, letting himself be frogmarched into the room with Thancred close behind. ] It's got a lock.

[ Reno hasn't tested whether the lock works, mind. but also suffice to say he doesn't really care. ]

[onlythans]

[He kicks the door shut behind him as they make their way inside, which Thancred discovers firsthand is a move better suited to gunbreaker boots than mage slippers — but no matter, not when there are far more important things to be focused on than a little sting in the heel. Like, for example, spending those interim moments taking Reno's measure as best he can, sizing him up from the available context he has.

It's not that he's one for roughhousing in and of himself; truthfully, his preferences are so diverse at times that he'd be hard-pressed to summarize them at all if he were ever bade to. But he does like being what other people want, and taking away satisfaction from that. Sometimes it's easier to be someone else, or at the very least a version of himself that isn't quite so complicated as the everyday reality.

Case in point: he's never liked bullies, never liked being in a place of strength and exerting it over someone weaker. But Reno strikes him as the type who doesn't just like a fight, but wouldn't quite know what to do with himself without one — the type who thinks provoking battle reflexes is a romantic overture and would take a punch as cheerfully as a kiss.]

...Gods, look at this place. Who dreams up garbage like this?

[He shakes his head, then adjusts his grip in favor of shoving Reno back up against the inside of the now-closed door, evidently content to keep it shut with body weight in lieu of worrying about the lock.]

Any conditions I should be aware of? No kissing, no visible marks, aught like that?

[astraphilia]

[ maybe there are moments, as Reno is coming to find out, when he knows how to be gentle—knows how to be romantic, or something close to it. knows how to touch someone without hurting them, how to let himself be touched that way in turn. it hasn't happened often, especially not since he joined the Turks all those years ago, but there have been times that Reno has taken things slow and easy—

this just isn't one of them. ]

You don't think it has a little charm?

[ Reno's back hits the door and it punches a sound out of him, a noise of raw desire as he finds himself trapped between it and the solid weight of Thancred's body. he grins, as sharp as the edge of need that's carving him up inside, and his free hand comes up to curl around the back of Thancred's neck, holding him in place so Reno can lean forward and get right up into his personal space.

just as Thancred is taking measure of Reno, Reno is doing the same—reading his expression as much as his body language, finding him eager in much the same complicated way that Reno is himself. ]

Nothin' I can't walk off. [ but they're both in here bare-handed, and despite how willing he is to manhandle Reno into position, Thancred doesn't read to Reno like someone who would be cruel for cruelty's sake. ] That's it. I love kissing.

text ; @thundaga

[astraphilia]

remember how you asked about people who share world overlap with us and I gave you some names?

scratch Joshua Rosfield off that list, he's gone

[onlythans]

another one, then.

fuck.

there's really no rhyme or reason to it, is there.

[astraphilia]

if there's either I ain't figured them out yet.

you got the Phoenix where you're from?

mid-morning, 11/9 ; ding-dong-ditch in return

[astraphilia]

[ by Reno's own admission he is no baker. oh, he can make things that turn out tasting fine, but the decoration part? absolutely not. he'll blame it on being left-handed until the chocobos come home but the fact of the matter is Reno just doesn't have the patience or delicacy for fiddly tasks like cake decoration.

it's therefore a minor miracle that the moogle cupcakes that mysteriously appear outside Thancred's door mid-morning on the ninth following a ring of the doorbell are even remotely recognizable as moogles. they probably wouldn't be if it weren't for the wings and the red gumdrops on their foreheads, Reno can admit that much.

there are four of them in a row, and on the foreheads of the middle two Reno has carefully frosted a "3" and a "4" respectively. also included is a note, which reads: ] happy averaged-out 34th birthday!

[onlythans]

[There is, of course, no proof of who is behind the conspicuously moogle-like cupcakes, but it doesn't take an Archon mark in investigation to put together that:

1) the sender is aware of what moogles are,
2) the delivery method is conspicuously similar to some very recent behavior of his own,
3) the sender knows it's his birthday, and
4) he knows to judge his age on an average.

Which is why, a little later, a file attachment arrives by text message that, when opened, reveals a still photograph of lightly scarred skin, the lower part of what is definitely an 8-pack, the shadowed hollow of a navel, the defined ridge of a hip, and a fine white trail of hair progressing off-camera, all of which form the backdrop for a smudged lump of white frosting accentuated with a red gumdrop slowly slipping free of it.

The name of the image file is oops.jpg.]

[astraphilia]

[ oooh this man is infuriatingly hot.

Reno's not sure why he's surprisesd that this is the response he gets, considering how he and Thancred met, but he still opens the attachment and feels an immediate sharp stab of heat in his lower belly. the want to hunt him down and suck his brain out his cock is strong.

still, the game's the game, so: ]

can't possibly imagine what I might have done to deserve a gift like this on this fine afternoon

don't get me wrong, I'm still gonna jerk off about it though

morning, 11/11

[astraphilia]

what's your opinion on soup

[onlythans]

i admit this is rather one of the more unorthodox nudes i've ever gotten
but anything is possible with a little dedication i suppose

mmmm just look at all those os
and ns

[astraphilia]

it's important not to be predictable! you were expecting dick pics, I give you ideas for dinner

answer the question and I'll show you what a conventional nude should look like

12/10 at some absurd morning hour

[astraphilia]

:)

[ —is the only commentary in the text, and aside from that there are three photos attached. the first two are nudes of Reno, because he's been slacking in that department, and after talking such a big game about them too.

but the third is a photo of Thancred, asleep in Reno's bed. in it he's on his side, sheets slung dangerously low around his hips. the room is lit only by ambient light, so the shadows are deep, but there's at least enough illumination to gild the details of Thancred's muscles as well as the fine trail of hair leading down from his navel and disappearing under the sheets. ]

[onlythans]

[Ah.

He's sifting through the collection of photo attachments with a growing sense of amusement — not necessarily the intended reaction when someone spontaneously messages over nudes, he's certain, but alongside the obvious arousal they're intended to stir, there's a sort of charm about the act of receiving them at all, like Reno's found yet another way to demand his attention and wait to see what he does about it. He likes that about him, the brash and laughing arrogance. Likes the sight of his body, too; those will get saved to look at again and again later, for certain.

It's the third picture that makes his stomach twist, an initial little jolt of instinctive alarm. He's never seen himself sleeping before, for obvious reasons, and the novelty means it's his training that rises to the surface first, reading threat in the image before anything else. He didn't know this picture was taken, until it crossed his phone like this. He was asleep, unawares, anything could have happened, anything while he lay there unsuspecting, it could've been worse than just a picture and mayhap that's precisely what the picture was meant to imply —

It's an impulse he actively has to quiet. This isn't a threat. It doesn't have to be assessed like one. And surely Reno wanted him to see it, so the fact that he'd leapt to such an extreme (however natural) threat assessment from it is...he can let it go. Let it go, and look again.

The second time he looks, the self-deprecating jokes are already coalescing in his mind. Who's this ugly mug alongside all the other pretty pictures, he could say, by way of deflection. It's not until the fourth or fifth time he looks that it occurs to him, like a dim ember on the very verge of burning out, that maybe Reno took the picture for himself. To preserve the sight of it. To preserve the sight of him, looking like...this.

He didn't know he looked so at ease when he slept. That his expression reflected the way he feels when he's on the verge of falling asleep around Reno no matter the circumstance, warm and unguarded and unwound.]

this last fellow is rather cute i'll admit
but my taste in men is still far superior to yours ;)

[astraphilia]

[ it isn't surprising that it takes a while to get a reply—he did send the text the middle of the goddamn night, after all. afterward he had poured himself a drink (and then another, and another) and smoked on the fire escape and eventually dragged himself to bed in a haze, so it's late morning by the time he wakes up to see Thancred's response.

Reno rubs his eyes to clear the blurriness from them and grins at the phone. ]

damn! sorry about your flawed taste, but it's okay, I guess you're allowed to be wrong

[ he flicks open the photo of Thancred, feels it burn a warm hole right through him. not that he'd expect Thancred to know, but Reno had taken this photo the night after their first movie night, with the invisible alien; he's been holding onto it all this time, for no other reason than to preserve a glimpse of how lovely and at ease Thancred is when he's asleep at Reno's side. ]

un: minfilia

[firstwaters]

wait is this when starlight is ✨
should I do something

[onlythans]

a little later this moon, yes

would you like to do something?

tis a long way from the source and its shards i know
but the lord speaker of ishgard in his merry red coat might yet find his way here to bring you a gift

text ; @thundaga / sometime post-nightmare

[astraphilia]

babe I have a question

[onlythans]

no i didn't eat the last apple turnover

that was you and you just forgot you did it
clearly

text ; @thundaga

[astraphilia]

I think I've changed my opiniln on gin

[onlythans]

for the better or for the worse?

text ; @thundaga - backdated to 1/6

[astraphilia]

[ the first thing Reno did, after the golden door spit him back out into the darkness of his own apartment, was stumble into the kitchen and throw up in the sink.

the second thing he did, after his stomach was empty and he'd caught his breath, was pull out his phone.

what the fuck is the protocol in a situation like this? maybe Reno was the only one who had suffered the—what was that, even? a dream? a hallucination? a vision?—and any text he sends to Thancred would seem like the ramblings of a crazy person. or maybe—somehow an even worse scenario—Thancred had the same vision Reno did, and any text Reno sends him would be unwelcome.

but fuck. fuck, the pain of the loss is so sharp and so real, his gut still twisting with it. the weight of the despair is still so heavy. Reno can't just say nothing.

what he ends up sending is straightforward: ] tell me you're okay

[ Thancred doesn't have to say anything else. maybe it's better if he doesn't. but Reno needs to know he's alive, somewhere in this godsforsaken hellhole of a city. ]

[onlythans]

[Thancred's door doesn't even have the decency to release him back to his own apartment — although, on second gander, maybe that's not such a bad thing. It means Ryne won't see him looking the way he does when he tumbles out, like a phantom from her worst nightmares, as volatile and haunted as he'd been back in the years they'd traveled together on the First when her eyes were bluer than blue and her hair the spun gold of someone else.

It's ironic, though. He tumbles out onto a street somewhere in the city — blessedly not raining, but the skies are an active threat of it — and for a second all he can think to do is walk, walk until he catches his bearings, and wouldn't it be funny if he walked until he saw a familiar window and he —

Gods. Gods.

I get—night terrors, sometimes. Nightmares. Tonight it was worse than usual.

And now look what he did. Now look what he's wrought, as though Reno's nights weren't bad enough already. As though he didn't already hate it when something he did or something he implicated or even something he didn't do put that feral snarling smile back on Reno's face, the one that —

A bullet to the brain, squish! Or a button under the plate, squish, fifty thousand dead and that's all on me.

Fifty thousand dead is such a specific number. Specific like someone counted. Specific like someone knew the population of the people who would've been under that structure when it fell and still —

And still —

Reno used to look at him like he was waiting for something. Sometimes he still does. Reno curls up in the corner of a couch and makes himself small and says things like this can't be for me when it's kindness he's shown and he'd always thought, always thought it'd been something else, something bad or something rough but not fifty thousand families already committed to whatever scraps of a life they could manage to scrape out until the very sky fell and —

And he remembers how it feels, the moment before the roof comes crashing down. He'd had only a few yalms of it to wait. They'd had a plate as high as the sky. They'd had just enough time to see it falling and understand what it was.

It's not a question of forgiveness.

He's not even within a thousand malms of beginning to touch a notion as thorny as forgiveness.

It's just — it's just all of it. The truth of all of it.

Glory be to Garlemald.

He doesn't have to see the aftermath to know what it looks like, the agony and the cruelty and the heartbreak of a nation that sacrificed its own.]

juts col d

[Oh. His hands are shaking. Maybe he's just cold.]

are yuo

okay?

[1/12][text] un: emet-selch

[recreator]

I believe I have finally arrived at a question.

[onlythans]

oh, have you now?