Chapter Text
“Dispatching?”
Robert was staring at Blonde Blazer, eyebrow raised. He shifted on the metal bench, folding his arms. She looked him up and down, not even trying to hide the pity spread across her expression. It made Robert’s fingers twitch.
“You would be placed in charge of our Z-Team. They are a part of the Phoenix program. I guess, in a way, you would also be a part of the program,” Blonde Blazer sighed and shifted her weight onto the other foot. “Look, Robert, I know your story. I know you used to be a good guy.”
Robert scoffed. “I’m gonna stop you right there, blondie,” he didn’t miss the way her eyes narrowed at the nickname. “Any good I might’ve had all the way back then has been beaten out of me. I am not a good guy. Not anymore.”
“You’re not fooling me with this whole routine. I know you want to be good,” when Robert opened his mouth to respond, Blonde Blazer held up a hand to stop him. “15 years you’ve been at this. And in those 15 years, every single person that you have killed could be counted as self defense. You barely start fights. You rarely go after anyone that isn’t the worst of the worst. I’ve watched you fight, Robert. I have seen you pull so many of your punches that I’m starting to wonder what you’re doing it all for.”
Her words actually managed to stump Robert. He was scrambling internally, looking for a witty retort to throw back at her, but he was coming up empty. He just sat on the cold mental bench of his cell, staring across at the thick layer of armored glass between them. He unfolded his arms and ran a hand over his face. He was fucking tired.
“What do you want from me, Blazer?” Robert didn’t like how small his voice sounded.
“I want you to let me give you a second chance,” Blonde Blazer brought a hand up to rest on the glass, the intercom crackling her voice. “Come work for SDN. Meet the people you’re going to help. Let us fix up your mech and maybe one day, once you’ve proven to be an asset to the team, we let you back out there to do hero work for us. And hey, if you hate it that badly, you can always come back here.”
Robert sighed. His eyes roamed around the small cell he was in. Bulletproof glass, reinforced concrete, and a single slot to push a tray through. His eyes came to rest on the thin mattress spread across the metal cot they had given him and his back ached. Fuck it. Maybe they’d give him a better place to get his three hours a night.
“When do I start?”
⁝
One week later and Robert was being escorted in an armored truck to the LA branch of SDN. They had forgone the two layer handcuffs but he had a muzzle placed securely over the bottom half of his face. It had all seemed a bit over the top to Robert but he was sternly reminded that he did bite several fingers off of the first officer who had tried to take him out of his Mech. He wondered if they were going to make him wear the muzzle all day.
Once they’d arrived, Robert was taken in the front entrance. He hadn’t considered that they would do that. He thought they would have taken him in the back way, away from all of the prying eyes. Staff and heroes alike whispered amongst themselves as the muzzled dog was paraded through the SDN foyer, his eyes fixed dead ahead. He didn’t have the giant armed escort he had received from the hospital to the holding cells in supermax, but he did have two pretty big and mean looking guys in suits walking either side of him. Part of him was wondering how far he could make it if he made a break for it.
He was taken through to the main floor of the SDN call center and left in a conference room up the back. He sat on the table and waited, swinging his legs over the edge. There was a sleek black box in the middle of the table that he managed to quell his curiosity and not check inside. It took just long enough for him to get bored before Blonde Blazer was stepping into the room, locking the door behind herself. Robert watched with a raised eyebrow while she closed the blinds and dropped the backpack she was carrying next to him on the table.
“Your uniform,” she said pointedly, gesturing to it. He reached over and unzipped the bag, pulling out the blue button up that looked several sizes too big. “Sorry if it’s not the right size. They’re kinda running low on stock but we can get you a new one soon enough if you put in the order.”
Robert pulled his standard issue sweatshirt over his head and threw it to the floor. His pants followed suit and Blonde Blazer had the decency to turn around. It wasn’t something that Robert expected, let alone that they would let her be in the room with him alone. They had really frowned upon leaving anyone alone with Robert. He was the first to admit that he could be a little…volatile. He didn’t much like being imprisoned, as he suspected no one did, so he had tried many times to fight his way out. He liked to kick and he liked to bite and he fought like he had no regard for his own personal safety. So eventually his file had been stamped with a ‘must be accompanied’ and any time he got outside his cell was spent in the double cuffs and muzzle. Safer that way.
Blonde Blazer pulled him out of his thoughts with a pointed clearing of her throat. Robert shook his head, as if he were trying to dislodge the thoughts physically, and pulled the brown pants up to his hips. He pulled the belt out of the backpack and slung it through the hoops, securing it closed. Blonde Blazer must have assumed the sound of the belt buckle meant he was done because she turned around.
As soon as her eyes hit his body, he could see it again. Pity. Clear as day. Robert yanked the SDN shirt over his shoulders and started on the buttons, covering himself as quickly as he could. He knew how he looked. His entire body was covered in scars, burns, and God knows what else from all of the fights he had found himself in over the years. He could feel Blonde Blazer’s gaze burning into him, a million questions clearly being held back out of respect. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and tried tucking the shirt in. He gave up halfway after he realized the size was making it impossible.
“So why the uniform?” he asked, breaking the tense silence. Blonde Blazer’s eyes flicked up to meet his and he tilted his head. “I thought everyone here was a super.”
“We don’t want too many people knowing you’re Mecha Man,” Blonde Blazer explained, picking up Robert’s discarded clothes and putting them into the backpack. “A lot of our dispatchers are former heroes but it’s better if you keep your identity a secret. We’ve had incidents in the past.”
“I can imagine,” Robert said. He considered how many heroes and villains he had taken down over the years. It wasn’t unlikely that he would run into someone Mecha Red knew. The idea of starting over somewhere that no one knew the things he had done wasn’t unappealing but it would take a moment for him to digest the idea. “So no one here knows who I am? What I’ve done?”
“I think that currently three people know,” Blonde Blazer popped a hip and counted on her fingers for a second. “There’s me, of course, and then there’s Royd. He’s down in the workshops doing maintenance and repairs on employee’s gear. He’s the one who recovered your mech and brought it down to SDN.”
“Who’s the third?” Robert asked. He bit back a quip about her not knowing how to count.
Blonde Blazer wiggled her eyebrows at him. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said, a tone of mischief in her voice. Robert didn’t know if he liked it. “Anyway. Um.”
Her face changed immediately and Robert tensed. “What.”
“There is one more thing,” Blonde Blazer approached Robert and he almost took a step back. “I can take this off for you.”
She was gesturing to the muzzle. Oh thank fuck. “Please,” Robert said, turning around quickly. It was heavy and uncomfortable around his face, a weight to remind him of who he was. Blonde Blazer fiddled with the straps for a moment and Robert felt the stupid thing fall to the floor. He hadn’t bothered to catch it; didn’t want to touch a moment longer than he had to. He turned back around to see Blonde Blazer giving him another look. It bordered on the pity-filled gaze he had come to expect from her but there was something else there. It almost looked like anger. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Blonde Blazer sighed. “While you don’t have to wear the muzzle, there is one condition on you working here,” she reached across to the black box on the table. She opened it with a click and Robert’s heart sank when he saw what was lying inside. “This is a collar we will fit on you at the start of every shift. It’s designed to be lightweight so hopefully you won’t even notice it with some time. Its primary function is to administer an electric shock to the wearer if they…step out of line.”
Her tone sounded bitter. Robert glared down at the box. “A shock collar? You’re putting me in a fucking shock collar?”
“Hey, I wasn’t too jazzed on the idea either. It took a lot of convincing to get the higher ups to settle on just the collar,” Blonde Blazer blew hair out of her face, looking mildly frustrated. “They wanted you in the full get up. I managed to talk them down to just the collar.”
“Gee thanks.”
“I don’t think you’re this violent animal that you make yourself out to be, Robert,” Blonde Blazer sounded almost exasperated. He refused to meet her eyes. “I think you are prone to violence when provoked or when you’re in danger, but I don’t think that you would go out of your way to start something. Especially not here.”
Robert picked the collar up out of the box and turned it over in his hands. She was right, it was lightweight. If not for the small square of hardware on the front, it just looked like a regular black choker necklace. “So I have to wear this everyday?” he asked, his tone clipped. “What are you going to tell people? Beware of dog?”
“The truth mostly,” Blonde Blazer replied, side-stepping his joke. “Not your identity but if anyone asks we tell them that you’re a former supervillain given a second chance in the Phoenix Program. You’re not a real danger to anyone. It’s just a safety precaution until you’ve proven yourself.”
“And what if someone figures it out? Surely someone’s gonna see right through this bullshit.”
“That is a problem to worry about if it happens,” Blonde Blazer shrugged one shoulder and held her hand out for the collar. Robert handed it over and felt himself tense once again as she walked up to him. Her hands lifted to his throat, settling the shock collar in place and securing it. It made a gentle beep before a soft blue light lit up on the front. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure you can handle yourself out there.”
Blonde Blazer stepped away from Robert and unlocked the conference room’s door. She opened it and gestured for Robert to follow her. He complied, hand coming up to rest on the collar. He wasn’t sure how much leeway he had until the thing fucked him up so he gave up on the touching pretty quick. Much like the foyer, all the dispatchers in the room went quiet as they walked. All eyes were on him.
“Where are we going?”
Blonde Blazer looked over her shoulder at him for a second. “Gotta start your training. I’m taking you to meet the guy who’s gonna teach you. And he’ll show you who you’re gonna be working with on the Z-Team.”
“Oh great.”
With the eyes of every employee on the floor burning into him, Robert forced his posture to stay straight. He couldn’t slouch, couldn’t hide. He didn’t want to seem weak or small. He considered baring his teeth to them like he was some kind of rabid animal to not be fucked with but Blonde Blazer didn’t seem like she would find that one funny. The collar sat against the hollow of his throat as a constant reminder. He didn’t want to get shocked for his troubles.
⁝
Robert’s first half-shift went as well as could be expected. He had undergone about an hour's training with Track Star-sorry, Chase. Fucking Chase was there. As if Robert needed more reminders of how far he had gone. Chase had given Robert a hug, holding him in an almost crushing grip for a man of his body’s age, and Robert had felt the heavy stone of guilt in his chest.
Fuck that. Fuck feeling guilty about any of it.
He had done so well in the VR training that Blonde Blazer had decided to put him right out on the floor. Chase had shown him his cubicle and told him all about how he was allowed to decorate it. It was conveniently right next to Chase’s own cubicle which he denied having any hand in.
Meeting the team hadn’t gone as well as he would have liked but in his defense, he didn’t like being laughed at. Upon telling them his name, he had been hit with a wall of jeers and jokes but his quick and snippy response had shut them up pretty fast. Although Robert could tell by the tensing of some shoulders that maybe threatening to skin your team for cracking jokes about your name was frowned upon in a place like this. Sue him, he had been a supervillain who worked entirely alone for the past 15 years. It put a dampener on his social skills.
Surely he had done something right because a few members of the team had approached him on their breaks. He wouldn’t say he was exactly getting along with any of them but it was seemingly no harm done on the threats of skinning. One Z-Teamer in particular, went by the name Coupé, actually kinda seemed into it.
All through the day, the new heroes made their way past his desk to say hi. Never much else but Robert truly didn’t care about any of it. He had been counting down the hours until he was let out of the building. The dispatching itself wasn’t super difficult and there was a fair amount of hacking that Robert was actually kind of excited about but there was only so much hero do-gooder bullshit that he could put up with. All those years of being morally corrupt and suddenly Robert found himself thrust into a position where every interaction he had was about how he could help someone. How his team could help someone. It was making his stomach turn.
Post shift, he was in the break room staring down the vending machine. The Twinkies inside were singing a siren song to him but his pockets were empty. No one had thought to give him a dollar or two. And certainly no packed lunch courtesy of the prison he had been hauled in from. Robert was absently aware of his stomach feeling like it was going to tear itself apart from the inside out but he had spent the better part of four months in a coma followed by several more months in a high security supervillain prison. He was no stranger to disordered eating.
“What the fuck is up, Bob-Bob.”
The voice from behind Robert made him flinch, his fingers twitching by his side. He turned and saw one of the Z-Team, Flambae, leaning against the door frame. He had to tilt his head to fit inside the frame. He looked like a cute dog waiting for his answer.
Flambae had been a surprise to him. Robert had considered filing a complaint to Blonde Blazer to get him moved to another team when he had seen him in the line up but he didn’t want to rock the boat. He figured best case scenario no one ever finds out he was Mecha Red and life goes on, or worst case someone finds out and Robert ends up burnt to a crisp on the office floor. At this point in time, Robert really couldn’t bring himself to care about which scenario played out. Something twinged in his chest as he noticed the missing fingers on Flambae’s hand. He remembered that night down to the very last detail. Sometimes he still woke up in a sweat, the phantom feeling of the overheating mech making his lungs burn in his chest.
“Just contemplating,” Robert shoved his hands into his pockets and leant back against the table in the break room. “Good shift today.”
Flambae stepped into the room and leant himself against the counter. “Even if I was getting blamed for setting that fire?” he asked, eyebrow raising. “Because I totally fucking didn’t set that fire.”
Robert laughed. “Dude, I don’t fucking care if you set that fire. I’m off the clock now so I’ll be the first to tell you that it was actually kind of cool,” he thought back to it; seeing the flames roar across the camera feed. The way the fire had roiled so high it looked like pillars, smoke choking the sky above. “Fire powers, man. So fucking good. Anyone pisses you off and you can just roast them. Just like that.”
Flambae stared at him for a moment, unsure. “Right. Yeah. Well, I used to do that but I’m a real fucking hero now. I definitely did not set that fucking fire.”
Robert’s hands came out of his pockets to raise in defense. “Hey, like I said, I’m off the clock. You don’t have to convince me.”
Robert pushed off from the table and stopped next to Flambae. He grabbed a clean mug from the rack and poured himself what he assumed to be hours old cold coffee. He didn’t care. Months in prison without access to caffeine was enough to drive a guy insane. He took a sip from the mug but couldn’t hide the way his face pulled into a grimace. Flambae was still staring at him.
“So what’s up with the hardware,” he asked, eyes flicking down to the collar pointedly. “Is it a fucking power inhibitor? Your bitch ass have secret powers you haven’t told us about? Or are you gonna fucking go rogue and shoot up the building or something.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Or something,” he replied, tone dry. He took another agonizing sip from the mug. “You should’ve seen the get up they wanted me in all day.”
“I can fucking imagine. I heard from wet fart boy that you were dragged through the front door in a fucking muzzle or some shit,” Flambae watched Robert take another small sip, his eyes never leaving Robert’s lips on the edge of the SDN branded mug. “You a biter, Bob-Bob?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Robert raised an eyebrow at the much taller man and dared to take a full gulp of his coffee. His body shuddered as the cold liquid went down his throat, bitter and disgusting.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t watch this shit anymore,” Flambae grabbed the mug from Robert’s hand and cupped it in both of his own. Within seconds, Robert could see steam rising from inside the mug. Flambae handed it back to Robert and folded his arms, huffing. “Dipshit. Could have just made a fresh fucking pot but no.”
Robert watched Flambae through his eyelashes as he drank the perfectly heated coffee. A small noise of pleasure escaped him and he brought both hands up to cup the mug. It felt so warm against his cold hands. Flambae had tensed at the noise Robert had made, his eyes snapping to the other side of the room immediately. Robert drained the coffee mug in record time and placed it in the sink, not bothering to wash up after himself.
“Thanks for the coffee, big boy,” he teased, patting Flambae’s shoulder and walking for the door. “We should do this again sometime.”
He left Flambae spluttering in the break room, heading out to find Blonde Blazer. All this time in the SDN building and still no one had briefed him on what came after his shift. He wanted to get the fucking shock collar off.
⁝
The apartment that SDN had given him wasn’t the worst Robert had ever seen. Sure, it wasn’t dilapidated and rotting but it wasn’t exactly fancy living. On some managerial oversight, they hadn’t even managed to get him a bed. Or even a fucking futon. The only piece of furniture the fear inspiring ex-supervillain Mecha Red had been allowed was a single plastic chair. The agent that fitted his custom ankle monitor on at the front door had told him to look on the bright side. At least it wasn’t prison. Robert had been quick to remind the asshole that at least they’d had the decency to give him a bed while he was in prison.
His first night he had tried sleeping on the chair. He had tried curling up on it, tried sitting in it laid back with his legs splayed. All had been equally uncomfortable so he had tried the floor next. The cold linoleum was hard against his aching joints so of course he had given up. Genius struck at some point and Robert decided to check the bathroom to see if they had deigned to give him any towels that he could use. Even better, the bathroom had a bath.
Robert had spent the night laying on two fluffy towels at the bottom of the bath, in nothing but his briefs. When morning had come, the light streaming in through the thin window and stretching over his eyes, he had removed the towels from the bath and hung them back up. He had taken a shower, taking his time under the scalding water reading the label on the generic brand shampoo he had been given. Eventually he had stepped out and used one of his towels to dry himself off, making sure to hang it up properly to dry after.
He hadn’t been awake for very long when someone knocked on his door. It had been another agent there to remove the ankle monitor and refit the shock collar.
Time for another shift.
⁝
A little over a month had gone by and Robert was getting good at the job. He was making less mistakes and was finding himself less tempted to send the wrong hero forward to cause a little mayhem. He had stopped leaving himself back doors when he hacked into the caller's camera systems and it had been over a week since he had sent two heroes with zero synergy on a job together.
It made him angry to think how much SDN was changing him. How it was domesticating him.
When the team had offered to take him out for drinks he had agreed in seconds. Blonde Blazer took very little convincing; she thought it would be good for them to do a little ‘team bonding’. She had agreed to forgo the ankle monitor for one single night on the condition that if Robert did anything unsavory it would be a one stop trip back to prison. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, et cetera. Straight back to supermax. He had agreed to the terms of course but had lied about the bar they were going to. Someone had suggested The Sardine, a well-known villain hang out, and Robert knew that wouldn’t fly with Blonde Blazer. So he had told her they were going to some random civilian bar somewhere on the other side of town and prayed to God that she wouldn’t ever find out the truth.
So that was how Robert Robertson the Third found himself in the middle of a bar brawl in the Sardine. Robert liked to believe it started out as an honest misunderstanding but there was only so many times he could take being called a ‘loser ass bitch of a superhero’ before something in him snapped. He didn’t care too badly about the loser ass bitch part, but calling him a superhero? He wasn’t allowed to tell anyone who he really was so he guessed he would just have to show them.
The fight itself had been fucking brutal. Every single person on the Z-Team had gotten involved and it was a goddamn mess. The bass from the music had been pumping loud through Robert’s body as he had bitten the thumb off of some guy holding him up against the wall and he had never felt so fucking alive. He could feel the blood pooling around his mouth and running down his chin as the guy had screamed and let go of him for a singular second. Robert had hit the floor and made solid eye contact with Flambae from across the bar. Flambae’s eyes had stopped on the blood covering the lower half of Robert’s face and flicked back up to take in the frankly rabid expression on his face. He had looked…interested to say the least. Before Robert could do anything, the guy above him had grabbed him by the hair and dragged him off to continue the beating.
After they’d been kicked out from the Sardine, the Z-Team had suggested 3am tacos. The idea had sounded sort of appealing to Robert but Flambae appearing by his side had changed his mind. Something in him knew that if he loudly expressed that he planned to walk home that Flambae would not let that shit slide. And bingo, he had been right. The second he had said anything, Flambae was outright demanding that he fly Robert home. Robert had shared a look with Invisigal, who just gave a thumbs up and a mouthed ‘nice’ his way.
With the Z-Team wandering away, Flambae turned to Robert. “Alright. Where the fuck do you live, Robbo.”
Robert wiped at the blood still drying on his jaw and looked up at Flambae. “I don’t know. I was kinda thinking we could take the party back to yours.”
Flambae flinched, turning. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”
Robert did his best to sound flirty despite how drunk he was, stepping forward to crowd Flambae’s space. Jesus Christ, this guy was tall. “Look, I might not have worked with you for long but I’m not blind. I can see the way that you look at me.”
“I-”
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Robert let his fingers trace down the hem of Flambae’s suit, pushing along the V shape. “Sure, I’m your boss right now but who knows how long that gig is gonna last.”
“You’re drunk, Bob-Bob,” Flambae said, his voice strained. “You’re not thinking.”
“What, and you’re not?” Robert replied, resting his forehead against the other man’s chest. He felt so fucking warm against Robert’s skin. “We could change that. Surely you have drinks back at your place. Come the fuck on, Flambae. Stop being so good.”
Flambae made a small noise in the back of his throat and flipped Robert until he was facing away. It made Robert’s head spin a little. “Don’t fucking squirm around while I’m flying, okay. I’m not as fast or precise when I’m not…”
“In full flame-on mode?” Robert supplied, lifting his arms out for Flambae to grab hold under his armpits.
“Yeah. So don’t fucking move around or anything. I could drop you,” Flambae added the second part as an afterthought. Robert braced himself as Flambae took off straight upwards.
The flight itself was uneventful enough. Robert spent the entire time with his arms locked in place, staring down at the buildings as they flew past. He didn’t feel nearly as nauseous as he thought he would be but he supposed he had spent enough time flying around in the mech that it didn’t affect him. The only change was the shell of reinforced metal keeping him from being crushed like a bug when he hit the ground. Robert’s head flashed with thoughts of the explosion and he flinched. Flambae’s grip tightened on him.
They landed on a balcony somewhere and for one confusing moment, Robert had thought that Flambae somehow knew where he lived. But then the realization hit him that other people in LA had balconies. Much fucking nicer ones. Flambae set him down and Robert stumbled a little.
Flambae opened one side of the double doors inside and Robert followed him in, trying to keep his jaw off the shiny hardwood floors. Fucking Christ, what was the salary of the average SDN hero. They were paying Robert just enough to stay alive so how the hell did this guy get an apartment so nice? Flambae watched him as he walked around the living room, fingers trailing over the top of the leather sectional.
“I bought this place before I went to prison,” Flambae’s tone was bordering on nervous. Robert thought it sounded cute. “It’s technically not in my name so it wasn’t seized when I got arrested. Fucking Mecha Red. As soon as I got out and started my stupid hero work, the place was still here. Untouched.”
“Mecha Red?” Robert drawled, testing his luck. “He’s the one that arrested you?”
Flambae scoffed, heading over to a fully stocked bar cart by the wall. He grabbed a bottle of something and two glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. He headed back over to the cart and threw a packet of wet wipes to Robert, who almost completely missed them. He took one out of the packet and ran it across the bottom half of his face, laughing a little when it came back a muddy red.
“That asshole? No, he didn’t fucking arrest me,” Flambae sat on the sectional, letting his arms stretch out over the back. “He stole my fucking fingers and hit me so bad that I couldn’t get out fast enough. It was either walk out into cops or let a goddamn building fall on me. Mecha Red was gone before they’d even gotten the cuffs out.”
Robert set the packet and the wipes down on the coffee table. He sat down beside Flambae, opening the bottle and pouring out two glasses. He glanced at the label as he put the bottle back. Fancy whiskey. Nice. “Guy sounds like a real asshole,” he said, keeping his tone light as he handed Flambae one of the glasses. “Wonder what ever happened to him.”
“His dumb fucking mech exploded months ago. Everyone just assumes he’s fucking dead or something,” Flambae tipped his head back and downed his drink in one go. “Good fucking riddance, dude.”
Robert followed suit, downing his own drink. He grimaced a little as the alcohol hit his throat. “Enough about that guy,” he poured another glass for them both and Flambae took it from him. Their fingers brushed and Robert smiled, all teeth. “I’m on a mission here.”
“And what the fuck might that be, Bob-Bob?” Flambae cocked an eyebrow as he drank the whiskey, watching Robert over the glass.
Robert drank his own whiskey and put the glass back on the coffee table. “I’m trying to get you drunk here.”
Flambae outright laughed at that and Robert felt something shift in his chest. He didn’t know if Flambae was laughing at him or with him. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that, dipshit.”
It was Robert’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, idiot. Superpowers. It takes a fucking lot for me to get drunk,” Flambae rolled his shoulders, letting his arms stretch out over the back of the sectional again. Robert took the opportunity to grab the whiskey bottle from the coffee table and swing a leg over Flambae until he was straddling his lap. Flambae jerked under him, his arms flying over to rest on Robert’s hips. “Uh, what the fuck?”
“Open up,” Robert said, uncapping the bottle and tipping it toward Flambae’s mouth. To the man’s credit, he took it like a champion. Robert gave him two good swallows before he pulled the bottle back. “How do you feel?”
Flambae panted under him, his eyes wide. “Uh, good.”
Robert tutted, pulling his best disappointed face. “Just good? We can’t have that,” he let the bottle rest back on Flambae’s lips and tipped up, giving him two more mouthfuls. Flambae’s hands on his waist tightened and Robert let his hips roll a little, hearing a low moan from the man under him. “Better?”
Flambae nodded quickly, not trusting his voice. Robert smiled again and leant forward. He let himself get nose to nose with Flambae before he swerved. He heard Flambae whine, clearly expecting a kiss from Robert. With one hand precariously holding onto the neck of the open bottle of whiskey, Robert let his other hand come up to rest against the side of Flambae’s neck. He pushed until Flambae was craning his neck and allowing Robert access. He let his teeth graze against his skin and didn’t miss the way it made Flambae’s hips twitch into Robert.
Robert wasted no more time, sinking his teeth into the side of Flambae’s neck. He bit just hard enough to leave a bruise and Flambae keened under him, gasping breaths punching out of him as he struggled underneath Robert. Robert took pity and released him, running his tongue over the mark blooming across his skin. He sat back and watched as Flambae’s head fell back against the top of the couch, his pupils blown out. Robert leant forward with the bottle and pressed it to Flambae’s lips once more.
“Drink up, hero,” Robert had emphasized the word with a hard roll of his hips against Flambae’s as he tipped the bottle back. The noises Flambae was making under him was like music to his ears. He was so distracted that he let Flambae drink a little more than he intended. Robert pulled the bottle back and Flambae gasped loud, the alcohol rasping in his throat. Robert sat back and took a long drink from the bottle, his eyes never once leaving Flambae’s. “Checkin’ in. How you feelin’?”
“’M good. Dizzy,” Flambae replied, his throat scratching. When Robert had sat up a little straighter, Flambae let his hands wander up to fit against Robert’s waist. “Don’t stop. Wanna keep going.”
“Fuck. Didn’t take much for you to become a pliant little thing for me,” Robert whispered. He took another pull from the bottle and set it back down on the coffee table. He shoved his hands into the front of Flambae’s suit, running them down the man’s chest. He could feel Flambae’s dick against his thigh, poking into him. “Couple of shots and I got you begging for it.”
“Fuck. Robert, I-”
Robert surged forward to kiss him, all teeth and tongue. Flambae’s hands circled his waist, his fingers meeting, and Robert sighed into his mouth. The reminder of his still apparent malnutrition sat like a stone in his stomach so he tried to shake it away, letting his hands loop around Flambae’s neck. He let his hips roll down against Flambae as they kissed, Robert’s tongue sliding over Flambae’s. Eventually he sat back in Flambae’s lap, reveling in how glazed over Flambae’s eyes looked.
“So it’s Robert now?” he teased. “Not that dumb fuckin’ nickname you’ve been using? Give you a shot or two and you wanna call me my actual name? It’s cute.”
“That was a lot fucking more than a shot or two,” Flambae grumbled beneath him, his brow furrowing.
Robert shrugged. “Thought you had superpowers.”
“Shut the fuck up normie, there’s some strong shit in that-fuck!”
Robert had grabbed him by the ponytail and tugged hard, yanking Flambae’s gaze up to the ceiling. “Don’t fucking call me a normie. Understand?” Robert’s voice was low. There was a dangerous edge in it.
Flambae nodded, his eyes glued to the ceiling. “Fine, sorry. Jeez. Touchy.”
Robert let his eyes follow Flambae’s and looked up to the ceiling. Jesus Christ, this guy. “You had a mirror installed on your ceiling?” Robert tightened his grip on Flambae’s hair and watched the reflection of his eyes roll back. “You really are a slut.”
“Please,” Flambae met Robert’s eyes in the reflection above them. “Let me touch you.”
Robert let his eyes drop back down. He felt a tightness in his chest as Flambae moved his hands off of Robert’s waist to start unbuttoning his shirt. “Uh, okay. Yeah. I have to tell you something first,” Flambae’s hands paused halfway down his buttons, waiting. “I’m trans. I hope that doesn’t change anything for you.”
Flambae’s hands resumed, letting Robert’s shirt fall open. He inhaled sharply at seeing all the various scars and burns littering Robert’s torso, his fingers tracing over them. “Doesn’t change a thing for me,” he said, his voice ragged. “Where the fuck did you get all of these?”
“I don’t know if you know this, Flambae, but I was a fucking supervillain. I believe it was in the briefing you all got about me. Plus the fucking shock collar might have given it away,” he watched with interest as Flambae unbuckled his belt. “Getting fucked up on the regular sort of comes with the supervillain job. You should know that.”
Flambae managed to slip his hand into the front of Robert’s pants and groaned when he felt how wet he was. Robert braced his hands on the couch either side of Flambae’s head and bit his lip as Flambae’s fingers dipped into him. The angle was kind of weird considering his pants were still on but he rolled his hips against the long fingers, letting his head drop onto Flambae’s shoulder. He busied his mouth nipping at Flambae’s skin, leaving small marks along his shoulder.
“Do you want to take your pants off?” Flambae asked him, letting his thumb run across Robert’s dick. His words were slurring a little from the whiskey. “Might make it a little fucking easier, don’t you think?”
Robert tapped his arm, fighting back a noise at the feeling of Flambae’s fingers slipping out of him, and stood up. He stepped out of his pants and considered leaving his briefs on for a moment before he caught sight of Flambae staring at him like he wanted to eat him alive. He sucked in a breath and pushed his briefs down, leaving him in nothing but his open SDN shirt. Flambae’s hands were on him immediately, grabbing Robert by the hips and pulling him back down into his lap. His fingers were back inside Robert instantly.
Trying his hardest to keep his noises quiet, Robert leant himself forward to capture Flambae’s lips in another kiss. He bit into his lower lip and took advantage of Flambae’s gasp, pushing his tongue back in. Between them, Flambae added a third finger and Robert couldn’t help moaning into his mouth. Flambae took advantage of their closeness to brace his free hand on the small of Robert’s back and flip the two of them over with ease. He pushed Robert back into the corner of the sectional, his fingers never losing their pace, and knelt down on the floor.
“Holy shit,” Robert said, his hands flying up to grab hold of Flambae’s thick hair. He tugged it out of the tie it was in and gathered it in his fingers, tugging a little. Flambae moaned, his cheek resting on the inside of Robert’s thigh. “You look so fucking good down there.”
Flambae was practically salivating looking at Robert, three fingers pumping into him in a steady rhythm. “Can I-”
Before Flambae could even finish the question, Robert was pulling Flambae down by the hair. Flambae moaned, the sound loud as he laved his tongue over Robert’s dick. Robert kept his grip on his hair tight as he held Flambae down. His thighs shook while Flambae’s fingers crooked inside him, his head falling back against the couch. Robert’s chest heaved as he took in the scene reflected above him. Spread out across the corner of Flambae’s sectional, shirt open and legs askew. Flambae between his thighs, a death grip on his hair. Robert almost considered getting his phone out from his discarded pants to immortalize the moment.
“Fuck,” he gasped, Flambae’s tongue swirling over his dick. Robert’s hips ground upwards into Flambae’s eager mouth as he chased his orgasm. He ripped his gaze away from the mirrored ceiling and watched the man between his thighs. He had his eyes closed in concentration but the way he was moaning against Robert was sending a spark through him. Robert gave a quick tug to Flambae’s hair and the man opened his eyes in surprise. “Look at me. Fucking look at me.”
The look of utter devotion in Flambae’s eyes while he worked his tongue over Robert was what sent him crashing over the edge, eyes rolling back in his head as he came hard against Flambae’s mouth. Flambae’s fingers kept pace inside him as Robert writhed against the leather couch, his lips closed over Robert’s dick. Eventually Robert pulled him back by the hair, his chest heaving. Flambae sat back and let his fingers slide out of Robert.
Flambae watched him from between his legs, pressing the occasional kiss to the inside of Robert’s thigh. He was breathing equally as heavily and one glance down showed Robert that his dick was straining against the front of his suit. Robert took advantage of the grip on Flambae’s hair to pull him back up on the couch.
“You really like pulling on my hair, huh,” Flambae said, tone going for cocky but coming across a little too breathless. “You like pushing me around?”
Robert let one of his hands come down to ghost along Flambae’s collarbone, dipping over the small bruises he had left along the other man’s shoulder. “If you don’t like it then stop me,” he replied simply. He pushed his fingers into the bigger bite mark blooming across Flambae’s neck and Flambae moaned loud. “Use your big superhero muscles. Stop me.”
Flambae watched Robert with hazy eyes as he slid his hands under Flambae’s suit, pushing the shoulders down. He helped Robert wiggle him out of his suit, hissing as Robert cupped him through his underwear. Robert raised an eyebrow at Flambae, looking pointedly down at the briefs. “I’m not going to fucking free ball it through the city, Robert. Way too fucking risky,” Flambae said defensively. “What if my suit got ripped or something? I’m not flying back to the building with my fucking dick out.”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Robert chuckled, pushing the suit aside. Flambae watched it slide off the couch and hit the floor, tangling in with Robert’s own discarded clothes. “Just answered an internal question I had. Didn’t know if you were a tuck it and go kind of super.”
Flambae scoffed. “No, I just wear really fucking tight underwear. No lines that way. Gets kind of uncomfortable sometimes though.”
“Oh, well let me help you with that,” Robert said, tucking his thumbs into the briefs and tugging them down. Flambae stepped out of them and let Robert lead him to sit back down on the couch. His eyes followed with intense interest as Robert slipped down onto his knees in front of Flambae. Robert’s fingers wrapped around Flambae’s dick and gave an experimental slide. “I’m going to suck you off now.”
“Okay,” Flambae’s voice was strained as Robert pushed between his thighs. Thank fuck there was a soft rug on the floor between Robert’s knees and the hardwood. He slowly jacked Flambae off, letting his tongue run across the precum smeared across the tip. Flambae’s hips twitched under him, his head falling back. “F-fuck.”
Robert wasted no time getting his mouth on Flambae, trying to see how far down he could get before his eyes watered. His fingers stayed wrapped around what he couldn’t fit in his mouth, jerking Flambae off slow. He could hear a stream of filth coming from Flambae, the other man clearly trying to keep his hips steady. Robert lifted his head slightly to look at Flambae and he must have noticed in the reflection, lifting his own head to meet Robert’s eyes. There was a mischievous smile in Robert’s eyes as he took Flambae in his mouth again, this time sliding all the way down. Robert could feel the head of Flambae’s dick pressing against the back of his throat and he moaned, relishing the way Flambae couldn’t help but jerk his hips to bully his cock further in. Flambae was making pathetic noises above him, their eyes locked together as Robert’s mouth rose and fell on his dick. Flambae broke eye contact first, letting his head fall back against the couch again. His hands came up to fist in his own hair as he watched Robert through the mirror above them.
“Rob-ah, fuck- I’m gonna cum soon,” he admitted, watching Robert’s head bobbing in the reflection.
Robert pulled off of him with a wet noise, his hand wrapping back around him to jack him off. “So soon?” he teased. Flambae flushed all the way down to his chest and Robert laughed to himself. “I’m joking, fucking relax.”
He sank his mouth back down over Flambae and let the other man fuck up into him, keeping his throat relaxed. Robert swallowed around him, moaning low and almost choking when Flambae’s hands flew to his hair. Flambae’s hands carded through his hair, seemingly uncertain if he was allowed to touch, so Robert let his own hands come up to encourage Flambae. With Robert’s permission, Flambae gripped Robert’s hair and pushed him further down on his cock. He used his hold on Robert’s hair to fuck his face, his moans turning even louder and whinier. Robert braced himself and swallowed as Flambae came down his throat, his head held in place by Flambae’s death grip on his hair. Eventually Flambae’s hips stopped their twitching and he pulled Robert off of his dick, his breathing running ragged.
“What the fuck,” he said, running his hands through Robert’s hair. “What the fuck.”
“I can’t believe I sucked the logical thoughts out of you,” Robert rasped, nipping playfully at Flambae’s thigh. His gaze wandered and his eyes widened. “Are you still fucking hard?”
Flambae laughed, the sound breathless. “Powers. Super fucking stamina or something. Good for extended flame throwing and good for sex. Kind of fucks with my metabolism though so I’m like, constantly fucking eating to make up for it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Robert leant forward and licked a stripe along the underside of Flambae’s dick. Flambae whimpered and twitched his hips toward him. Robert pushed himself up off of the floor, knees groaning, and straddled Flambae’s lap again. He pointed down between them, eyebrows raised. “Is this seat taken?”
“Oh my God, you did not just make that fucking joke,” Flambae huffed, his fingers gripping onto Robert’s waist tight. “I’m almost tempted to throw you out for making a joke that fucking corny.”
“Why throw me out when you can throw me around instead,” Robert flirted, rolling his hips against Flambae’s. He reached between them and guided Flambae’s cock inside of him, using his other hand to brace against Flambae’s shoulder. “Fuck, you’re big.”
The earlier stretch from three of Flambae’s fingers was working overtime to help Robert fit Flambae inside of him. He slowly sank down on his dick, his brow furrowed in concentration. Flambae was incredibly well-behaved below him, his nails digging into Robert’s skin as he watched him bottom out. Robert’s forehead pressed to Flambae’s, his mouth hanging open. Flambae took advantage, surging up to kiss Robert. Robert’s hands looped back around Flambae’s neck as they kissed. Robert bit at Flambae’s bottom lip and he felt Flambae’s cock twitch inside him.
Robert was the first to break the kiss, leaning back to brace one hand on Flambae’s knee as he lifted up. Slowly he sank back down and then up again, trying to find a good rhythm. Small moans were leaving him against his will as he rolled his hips down against Flambae. It had not been very long until Robert’s knees were protesting, twinging in pain as Robert finally found a good pace.
“Do you want me to move you?” Flambae asked quietly, his eyes searching Robert’s face.
Robert was almost offended at the soft treatment. “Don’t fucking ask. Do.”
Flambae took no time moving his grip down to Robert’s hips and flipping them over until Robert’s back was against the leather cushion of the couch. Flambae pushed his way back into him, Robert’s leg hooked over his shoulder. Robert’s head was thrown back against the leather as Flambae immediately set a much harsher pace. Flambae leant forward to press his forehead against Robert’s again while he thrust into him, meeting the ex-supervillain’s eyes. Robert was desperately trying to keep the confident and cocky look on his face but the way Flambae was fucking him was distracting. His cock was hitting all the right spots inside of him and their close proximity had Robert’s own dick gaining friction against Flambae’s skin.
Robert craned his neck to the side and Flambae seemed to get the hint immediately, dipping down to kiss along Robert’s throat. He bit gently at Robert’s neck and it earned him a quiet noise, bordering on frustrated. Flambae laughed against his skin, breathless, before biting down on Robert’s shoulder hard. Pain blossomed through Robert and it ripped a genuine moan from him. He swore, grinding his hips up to meet Flambae’s thrusts. He was so fucking close.
It seemed to take a second before Flambae got over his fear of Robert being a ‘normie’ and really bite him. He ran his tongue over the bite mark, moving to the other side of Robert’s neck. Spurred on by the noises Robert was making under him, Flambae latched his teeth into the meat of Robert’s shoulder, close to the join of his throat. Robert’s moans grew in volume until Flambae’s jaw tightened and Robert felt the skin break. He whimpered as his orgasm hit him like a truck, feeling himself squeeze around Flambae.
Flambae leant back, fucking Robert through his orgasm. His eyes glowed a deep orange in the soft light and Robert could see the blood dripping down his chin. His blood. Holy shit. Flambae watched him squirm for a while and let one of his hands come up to hold onto Robert’s ankle, pulling the leg up to rest over his shoulder. He adjusted to the new angle, fucking Robert harder as he chased his own orgasm. Robert let his arms flop above this head, watching Flambae move above him with interest. The aftershocks of his latest orgasm still sparked through him. He moved one of his hands down between them to jerk himself off while he watched Flambae.
“You look so fucking hot right now,” Robert said, his fingers picking up pace. He could already feel his third approaching fast. “Look at you. Fucking covered in my blood.”
Flambae moaned, Robert’s reminder sending him over the edge. Robert wasn’t far behind, swearing loud as Flambae thrust into him hard. The two of them stayed that way for a moment, each trying to catch their breath. Flambae dropped down to kiss Robert, the movement pushing Flambae further inside him. There was the metallic taste of his own blood and the remnants of the fancy whiskey as Robert practically sucked on Flambae’s tongue, his legs wrapping around the man’s waist to keep him in place. He could hear the hiss of steam as Flambae’s sweat dripped onto Robert, the sparks of heat making him twitch.
Eventually Flambae sat back, his eyes still hazy. Robert unwrapped his legs from around his waist, letting them splay out. Flambae pulled out of him, whining low in the back of his throat as he did so, and let himself collapse against the couch. Both their chests were heaving in tandem, out of breath. The quiet stretched between them until Flambae suddenly whipped his head up.
“Wait. Fuck. Condoms. Should we have-”
Robert waved a non-committal hand, the other arm slinging over his eyes. “I’ve seen everyone’s medical records so I know you’re all good. Plus-” he pointed vaguely at a scar low on his abdomen. “-I got all that shit taken out of me years ago. So you don’t have to worry about accidentally bringing Robert Robertson the Fourth into the world or some shit.”
Flambae let his head fall back down on the back of the couch. “Okay, thank fuck. That was an incredibly fucking sobering thought,” he was quiet for a moment before Robert heard him sit back up. “Wait, what the fuck do you mean you’ve seen everyone’s medical records?”
“Don’t even worry your pretty little head about it,” Robert said, not bothering to move his arm. “It’s not like I’m gonna do anything with it. I’m just a really nosy guy.”
Robert could feel Flambae’s stare boring into him. He finally moved his arm and sat up on his elbows, groaning when a flash of pain blossomed out across his shoulder. Flambae leant forward to look and hissed through his teeth, a look of guilt flickering over his face.
“Let me get my first aid kit, bitch, that looks fucked.”
Robert watched Flambae stand and wander into the kitchen, coming back with a metal tin. He opened it and started busying himself with antibacterial creams and sterile bandages. Robert considered arguing against and telling Flambae exactly how he used to treat his own injuries, but decided against it.
Maybe it was time he let himself get taken care of for once.