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"Sayyyy… Bob-Bob?"
At first, Robert didn't so much as spare Flambae a side-glance, maintaining careful disinterest in his unwelcome presence as he mulled over the blueprint on the table. It was only when he heard the sound of knuckles against metal that he looked toward Flambae.
"Hm?" Robert's temper quickly soured at what he saw. "Oh. Ohhh, no. Don't even think about it."
Flambae was standing by his mech suit, hands planted on his hips, peering with feigned curiosity into the open cockpit.
"Do you think two people could fit in there?" Flambae asked. When he turned to Robert, his hair swished enticingly, and his eyes smoldered with mischief. "Looks like a… tight squeeze."
If Robert hadn't checked himself, he might've torn the blueprint beneath his fingertips in half.
"I'm not answering that." He deadpanned, his voice scraping low. "You're not even supposed to be in here. Go home."
Flambae clicked his tongue, giving Robert a rather murderous up-down. He could've passed it off as Flambae's usual bite of sass, but the look…never came back up from down.
"I mean, I could go home, sure. But… then you'd be left all alone with that."
"With what?" Robert asked quickly, a little panicked. Then he followed Flambae's pointed stare.
It wasn't anything Flambae hadn't seen before, but it still pissed Robert off.
"Oh, goddamnit. Ignore it. Long day."
"I don't knooow. Looks like little Bob-Bob has other ideas."
Robert's bottom eyelid twitched. "Right, well 'little' Bob-Bob is stupid, and big Bob-Bob wants to keep his job."
Flambae simply arched a brow at him before rolling his eyes and turning back to the mech.
"So lame."
Robert eyed Flambae warily. He figured the very much not workplace appropriate discussion was over with Flambae's little bout of needing to antagonize him pacified. He was just about to go back to studying the blueprint when he heard the hinges of the mech creak, the low, mechanical groan of protest chasmal in the spacious workshop. His attention snapped back up, and he immediately pressed his lips into a thin line when he saw Flambae climbing carelessly into the hatch.
"Tell me," Flambae intoned as he flopped into the pilot seat, his delivery fiercely lewd. "how do you keep it clean in here after a… y'know… battle?"
The meta leveled him a feline stare—bordering on predatory.
Robert frowned in return.
Yeah, 'battle'. Sure. It was painfully obvious in Flambae's voice that he was being lascivious, but the way he leaned back into a man-spread in his—no, Robert's seat really drove it home.
Robert tried not to think about shoving his face in between those thighs. He shouldn't indulge him. He wasn't going to.
"Isopropyl alcohol and a microfiber cloth." He drawled, making the most unimpressed face he could possibly muster. "Simple as wiping down the avionics and polishing the rudder pedals. I leave the rest to a vaccum hose and one those uh, air freshener clip things you get for cars."
The playfulness drained from Flambae's face, replaced with sharp indignation. A smirk tugged at the corner of Robert's lips that he couldn't quite suppress. The satisfaction that came with shutting Flambae down was always potent.
"Ugh, you are so fucking stupid," Flambae grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His right foot started tapping on the cockpit floor. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I am not taking you home with me again because getting your stink off my sheets is a fucking nightmare."
Robert narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell does this have to do with me?"
Flambae made an incredulous noise, and the weight of the moment sort of padlocked in place. The air shifted; frustration descending to something deeper, almost suffocating. The coming of something inevitable.
"C'mon, Robbo," Flambae purred, sending a shiver up Robert's spine. "you can't tell me you don't want this. The proof is in your…ugh, fugly khaki pants. Oh, but don't worry. My proof…is right here."
The moisture disappeared from Robert's mouth as he watched Flambae's hand—the one with the docked digits—sink lazily from his chest to the inside of his thigh. As much as it was probably the more responsible thing to do, Robert couldn't look away. Not when Flambae was giving him those eyes. Not when Flambae was pulling up on the hem of where his suit split open, drawing the fabric taut on his groin, exposing the outline where his apparent erection strained.
Robert blinked once. Twice.
"I-…Fuck it."
Well.
If they weren't before, they were well and truly fucked now.
He didn't expect anyone to pop in the workshop today. On a Friday. But there they where; Royd, Invisigal and Blonde Blazer meandering about, their heat signatures blaring yellow flags on his mech's monitor, all blissfully unaware of what was transpiring inside the armor.
What the fuck could they possibly need? Why now of all times? Fuck his life.
Flambae was settled on the cockpit seat—a seat he did not deserve, but filled into like he owned it—his thick length throbbing fervently in Robert's heat. Robert's thighs shivered in Flambae's grasp; the tight, possessive bend of the larger man's fingers forged from pure iron. His feet were propped on the mech's control console, his quaking legs framing the blue minicomputer lights and the golden silhouettes of his coworkers below. He had his back to Flambae where he was seated on his lap, his spine pressed flush against the meta's broad chest.
And his arms, well…
…they were tied to the handle above his head that went to the mech's cranium hatch, bound by his SDN shirt. The material wasn't at all flexible, but Flambae cinched it to his wrists like the thing was mere putty. It hung above his head—cool blue, polyester mockery.
Remind him never to think with his dick again.
He and Flambae weren't anything official. God's, no. Robert would rather fly the new mech suit straight into the LA sun than have to hold a genuine conversation with the guy for more than his work hours required. Maybe, just maybe, if Flambae were less insufferable Robert would feel differently. But the guy was completely, and unequivocally aggravating to the most severe degree— just as surely intolerable to Robert's weary brain as he was an Adonis cut straight from the ancient myth.
Flambae tested him. Time and time again. And Robert had pretty much run clean out of nerves for him to get on.
That didn't stop Robert from fucking him.
Of course not, because Flambae had dick to die for. Hence Robert sitting on the monstrous thing.
Well, it mostly because Robert was fucking stupid.
His knees were suspended in the air, courtesy of Flambae's totally unfair super strength, jolting uncontrollably in his lap with each powerful upward thrust. Thrusts that Flambae didn't stop, even when they ran the terrifying risk of getting caught.
"Flambae- Chad." Robert choked out, his eyes rolling back from the sheer amount of effort it took not to scream. "We can't- They're gonna-"
"Tell me to stop," Flambae growled, a curl of pure tease capping off the challenge, betting all in on the likelihood that Robert wouldn't protest. If this were poker, Flambae would've won the table.
Robert hung his head and whined, his hole squeezing shamefully around Flambae's girth. He didn't say a word.
"That's what I thought," The smirk was palpable in Flambae's voice. His warm breath licked incessantly on the shell of Robert's ear, wet and inescapable.
Robert swallowed down a broken gasp as Flambae rammed up into him, the head of his cock cuffing with a sniper's precision into that precious bundle of nerves deep within. The feeling was nothing short of incredible, and if Robert were less of a nervous wreck, it would've left the looming HR nightmare outside the mech long forgotten.
Precum shot from Robert's aching, untouched length, punching a bitten-off moan out of him. His cock stood rigid, cherry-red and neglected, thumping obscenely against his tummy with little slaps as Flambae kept up his torturous ministrations.
From this angle, he could see his the mechs security camera footage perfectly between his legs. He watched with evolving apprehension as the small group outside the machine conversed over a blueprint and what looked like the leftover break room donuts from that morning.
Invisigal took a large bite out of one, her gaze scouring the room, eyes narrowed. Robert's heart fell into his stomach when her feline eyes locked directly onto the mech, the side of her cheek bulging with donut.
"Ch-Chad," Robert gasped "Visi- she's- Mmph!"
Robert tried to swallow down his whimpers, but Flambae fucked into him still, either clueless about Visi's attention or simply not giving a damn. Stifling his moans hurt, and his chest protested each time one died in his throat. He felt dizzy—suffocated by his own defiance, and Flambae wasn't making it any easier. The wet smacking of skin against skin rang in his ears, bouncing off the cramped cockpit walls.
He wanted to screw his eyes shut so badly, but he remained fearfully fixated on Visi's stare.
When Blazer tapped Visi's shoulder, successfully diverting her attention, Robert thought he was going to faint from the relief alone.
"Poor, poor thing," Flambae cooed breathlessly, but he didn't sound remorseful at all. "You're gonna cum all over your stupid little mainframe. Bet that's going to be fun to explain."
Mainframe. Jesus, this idiot.
"Not- what it's- called! Ngh!" Robert growled behind his teeth, drool slipping past his lips.
Damnit…what a mess.
"Ugh, even when you're getting the- mmph…best dick of your life you can't help but- fuck- be a boner-killing nerd."
The boner he theoretically murdered was perfectly hard, perfectly stretching him, and stuffed impossibly deep inside of Robert.
Flambae shifted his hips, angling himself just so before pistoning his very much not soft cock into Robert's prostate. Molten pleasure bled down Robert's entire body.
"Ah, fuck!" Robert couldn't bite that one back. His arms jerked against the restraints, thighs quivering violently where Flambae sunk his nails into the meager plush of them. When he snapped back at Flambae, his anger was broken, threaded between ill-suppressed whimpers. "Yeah? And even when you're- ngh- having really risky, potentially life-ruining workplace sex- ughn- you can't- shut the fuck up."
Flambae chuckled cruelly, nipping at Robert's neck, making his breath catch.
"Okay, sure," Flambae said in a pointedly lower voice. "I get the hint, Robbo. Let's see if you can practice what you preach you mouthy little shit."
Robert watched in horror as Flambae released one of his legs and leaned to the side to flick on the intercom speakers. His eyes flung open, his skin flushing cold with hyper-awareness.
This was so, so fucked.
Robert quickly leaned his head back, tucking his nose into the side of Flambae's face so he could hiss directly in his ear.
"How the fuck did you-"
"It's a switch with a microphone icon, Bob-Bob," Flambae grumbled "Not rocket science."
"Fucking asshole," Robert spat. "Are you crazy? I can't do this. They're gonna hear."
Flambae turned his head toward Robert's, their lips brushing dangerously. For a moment, they just breathed each other's air. The pools of lava that made up Flambae's eyes simmered as he took in the state of his dispatcher. Robert prayed he could see the silent plea in his eyes.
"Then I guess you better, shut the fuck up, Robert."
He wasn't given a chance to respond.
Robert's back arched as Flambae snapped his hips into him. There was no chance of him stifling the withered gasp that leapt from his throat, but Flambae dove in and swallowed it with an open-mouthed kiss. It was sheer desperation that made Robert yield to Flambae's hot tongue, letting the meta lick into his mouth as he pleased. The kiss was the only thing keeping them from getting caught, what with Flambae pumping up into him like this was the last fuck of his life.
Breathless, Robert broke away to gulp in air. He tried to catch Flambae's eyes desperately.
"Chad-"
"Shhh," Flambae hushed him, lifting Robert's thighs impossibly higher, sliding his feet away from the control console. His forelegs dangled and bounced pathetically with every punishing thrust. "You can handle it."
"Please," Robert whimpered onto Flambae's lips. He was hazy with pleasure and adrenaline, but the way Flambae's gaze slid to the monitor was clear as day.
"We're still in the clear, Robbo. Maybe I should turn the volume up?"
Alarm flared through Robert's frame. He jerked against his restraints uselessly—pure self-preservation instinct—and Robert honestly couldn't tell if he had just tried to reach for the control console or his neglected cock.
Robert's lips parted in a silent scream as Flambae canted his hips up, applying firm, pressure to the swollen bundle of nerves deep within him. The drool that had pooled underneath Robert's tongue spilled over and dripped down his chin. He felt about ready to burst.
"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't," Robert panted, equally desperate and delirious. "G'na c- Gonna cum- I'm gonna cum. Ch-Chad please. I-If you ever liked me…"
His own words didn't quite register to his fucked out brain. But Flambae responded to them with a carnal, low-throated growl.
"Oh, I really am fucking you stupid aren't I?"
Robert didn't let the question sit. He knew he'd gone stark raving mad.
"Y-Yeah, ah, fuck!" His syllables were slurred, the expletive bitten off and high-pitched.
"Even if I did like you," Flambae intoned, smirking cruelly. "I'm not going to let you cum without me, azizam. You know that right?"
Yes, when has Flambae ever been nice to Robert? Never. Not once.
That didn't stop Robert from trying to win his pity. There was no grace in this kind of sex.
"Please cum, Chad, please, please please. Oh, God. F-Fuck!" Robert rapid-fired each word breathlessly, whining deep in his chest. His breathing came in wheezes, huffing in labored frays from his lungs. This position was fucking torture. No matter how he writhed or twisted, his hole remained stuffed brimful.
He could feel the soft flesh of Flambae's balls against his behind each time the meta buried his cock to the hilt in Robert's heat, cuffing flush to his skin with lewd slaps. Each obscene sound impact sent white-hot arousal sifting through his insides, and he couldn't stop himself from looking down to watch himself bounce on Flambae's cock.
His breathing came in shattered wheezes, huffing in labored frays from his lungs.
Flambae's weighty groans had fucking reverb. They penetrated Robert's flesh and crawled beneath his skin. It was with a deranged sense of fulfillment that Robert realized that he was doing that. He felt good for Flambae. He was good for Flambae.
And his brain must have melted clean out of his ears.
He'd completely forgotten that there were people outside of the armor, oblivious to the way he was being speared and taken apart.
Flambae merely chuckled at his pleas, nosing into Robert's neck, nipping at the sensitive tendon there as his dispatcher's head lolled back helplessly.
"They're g'na- hear- me…please, baby. Please," Robert pleaded, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as Flambae drove in deep. The pet name was a major slip but he didn't have the mental wherewithal to lament about it. "T-Too much, mmph!"
"Mmm, that's adorable, Robbo," Flambae purred. He stopped thrusting, letting Robert sit rooted on his cock—letting him feel the thickness inside him twitch and throb in his heat. The dispatcher deflated, his legs dangling wearily in Flambae's grip. "They're still clueless, I promise. Oh, look. Your favorite, blonde ray of sunshine is laughing with your little emo fling. Bet they're talking shit about what a bad lay you are."
Robert didn't look at the screen. He couldn't. Instead, even as he was panting pathetically over Flambae's dick, he snarled and turned his head, biting Flambae's cheek hard. Flambae growled and jerked his head back, letting go of one of Robert's legs to grasp his throat in retaliation, pressuring where his adam's apple bobbed. They glared at each other savagely—righteousness and sin. Robert could see the prints of his teeth in Flambae's cheek, the dents glistening with saliva, glittering blue from the control console lights.
"You sick fuck," Robert growled onto Flambae's lips, voice thick with repulsion. "Is that what you think? That I fucked them both? That I'm that much of a fucking scumbag?"
Flambae's lips twisted into something of a frown, caught between malice and what looked like uneasiness. Robert leaned in and kissed that frown hungrily, licking Flambae's mouth open with cannibalistic greed. Just to drive his point home, he coupled the advance with a spiteful clench around Flambae's cock. He drank the groan that spilled from Flambae's lips, swallowing it past where the meta squeezed his throat. It tasted of years-old resentment.
When Robert pulled away, he caught Flambae's molten eyes again.
"Ever since I got this fucking job, you're the only person I've slept with. The only person I let fuck me. Can you say the same?"
Robert was a sort of dreading the answer, regretting it the moment it came out of his mouth. Flambae scoffed in disbelief, narrowing his eyes.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The meta hissed. "I haven't been able to jerk off to anything but your stupid face since before you even knew my name."
"Then I guess I'm not so much of a bad lay after all," Robert shot back.
Flambae sneered, steam curling past his bared teeth.
"You little shit."
Their bodies tilted to the side together as Flambae leaned over, flipping the intercom speakers off. The hand on Robert's throat sunk down and wrapped around his cock within the next few seconds.
"The speaker's off," Flambae rumbled venomously. "Go ahead. Scream."
And scream Robert did. Flambae finally started jerking him off. The explosion of sensation to his neglected length milked hearty beads of precum out with an incredible quickness, pumping the build-up of tension free. Flambae adjusted himself with a grunt, propping one of his legs on something beneath them, using that new leverage to pound up into Robert mercilessly.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, god. Please tell me you're close. I can't, Chad. Feels so good. Feels so fucking good!" Robert babbled, rolling his hips with every thrust, fucking into Flambae's fist.
"Mmm, don't worry. I've been on the edge since you called me baby, azizam," Flambae licked a wet stripe from Robert's neck to his ear, sending an intense shiver up his spine.
He lolled his head to the side, his lips brushing Flambae's, panting into his mouth.
"Wanna kiss you," He breathed. "Wanna-"
Flambae surged forward, slotting their lips together in a devouring kiss. Flambae's stubble abraded against Robert's saliva-slickened skin as the other man blended his tongue into the kiss—one languid, imperious motion—licking the drool from Robert's mouth like liqueur. It was dizzying, each appreciative hum that fell on Robert's tongue pulled his soul from his body, sending it barreling down Flambae's throat.
He melted into Flambae—candle wax to an open flame—moaning freely into the kiss, clawing hard at his restraints. Flambae continued his ministrations, stroking Robert's weeping cock with deft twists that he timed perfectly with his thrusts.
"Mn' close," Flambae gasped, his words capping off into a distended growl. "You wanna cum, Robert? Huh?"
Robert nodded frantically. "Yes, yes! L-Let me cum…please-"
Flambae groaned in approval, shifting his hips again. When he resumed his punishing thrusts, the new angle had the breadth of his cock cuffing dead into Robert's prostate.
"Fuck! No, no, no, c'mon please," Robert swore he saw constellations. His back arched into a tense flexure, bowing against the bolts of pleasure lurching in his cock. "Cum—ah! Please, cum. I can't-"
Flambae's rhythm stuttered, and with a low-throated snarl he buried himself to the hilt in Robert's heat and came. It was like Robert's body had taken it as permission, his orgasm blooming richly throughout it, tearing a broken shout from him. His cum spurted in thick ropes, splashing messily over his abdomen and the mech's monitor.
He hadn't noticed until his afterglow settled in that Flambae had dropped his other leg and wrapped an arm around his midriff, holding him close while his climax subsided. He felt Flambae's cock twitching inside him, the satisfying sensation of his warm finish giving him a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.
"Just checked," Flambae whispered into his neck. "They're gone."
It took Robert a second to realize who Flambae was referring to. He sighed and lifted his head, checking the live footage, grimacing at the sight of his cum dripping into the crevices of the flight computer.
"Oh, yeah," Robert muttered dumbly. "This was such a stupid idea…"
Flambae squeezed his spent length in lieu of an acknowledgement, drawing a shuddering hiss from his dispatcher.
"How would you rate this one, all of our hook-ups considered?" Flambae purred.
Robert rolled his eyes and scrunched up his face, reluctant.
"Top five, easily," The answer came out begrudging, but it was wholly honest. "Now can you please untie my wrists? I'm getting carpal tunnel over here."