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Chad has never been a dog person. He didn’t grow up with them, have any friends who did, or even beg his parents to be shouldered with the extra responsibility. A scruffy cat they called Tiburcio who came and went as he pleased through the open windows and cracked doors of his childhood home was as close as he ever got. None of that seemed to make much of a difference when it came to his interest in pets, though.
Chad may not be a dog person, but he learned pretty quickly as a young adult that he might be a dog person.
As confident in himself as he is, as dangerously hot and devilishly sexy, reconciling with the fact that his idea of a good time is getting on all fours and mounting his bitch like an animal instead of a roll in the sack like a normal person took some time. He didn’t want to be one of those losers in an ill-fitting jock strap and hideous neoprene mask that would fuck up his hair, as much as their interests might overlap. No, Chad is better than these mutts; the breed standard, if you will. Without a doubt, he’s winning best in show every fucking time.
Even though Chad intentionally sets himself apart from the more embarrassing aspects of his interest, it’s not like he’s under any false impressions that he’ll be seen separately by the average person. Average like inexperienced. Average like vanilla. Average like Robert. Unfortunately, it’s getting harder and harder to hide from him the closer and closer they get, the more they end up in Chad’s bed and the less inhibited they become.
There’s always been a violence to their relationship. Even after they did a lot more than kiss and make up post identity reveal and near destruction of Torrance, almost every interaction they share is still charged with an undercurrent of tension thick and tangible enough to sink your teeth into. Sex is no different, and the intensity of it pushes buttons Chad otherwise never would’ve learned he has.
Robert makes him work so damn hard for his submission that you might even think he doesn’t want to hand it over if it weren’t for how wet he gets and how passionate his pleas for more become once he’s finally put on his back or his knees. Even then, Robert will still have the audacity to talk back, all sarcasm and snarls, or give him that dirty little look over his shoulder like Chad won’t take it out on his ass. It riles him up, makes him want to snap at the nape of Robert’s neck and growl into the softness of it until he takes the hint, keep his dick inside him all night long and show him his place. He’s pretty sure that’s the point of all the bratty behavior, but there’s no way Robert realizes what he’s actually begging for.
If he did, Chad suspects their entire fling would get cut short. How upset he’d be about that is something else he’s been trying and failing to keep under wraps. Nobody ever said dogs make for good liars.
Tonight is no different than usual. It’s absurd for this to be considered the usual now; Robert Robertson, Mecha Bitch himself, grinding against Chad and his hard-on as they play tonsil hockey on his couch, but shit, he’d be an idiot to complain. What’s to hate about a soft tongue against yours and a lithe body in your lap? There’s a lot of things about Robert that Chad takes issue with from his diet to his fashion sense to his overwhelming aura of depressing nonchalance, but his responsiveness has never been one of them. He arches into Chad when a heated hand is placed on the small of his back and moans, the sound muffled by their locked lips. It gets him a growl in response, resonating out from deep within Chad’s chest much more bestial than usual, enough to give Robert pause.
Pulling back, he licks his lips and gives a surprised little huff of a laugh, smile tugging at his lip where he peers at Chad. Pink and sweaty as he is, there’s still a smugness about him when he says, “Damn. You a little worked up?”
“Something like that,” Chad mumbles distractedly, wrapping his arms around Robert’s waist and tucking his face into his chest to continue kissing up the flat plane of it. He’s unwilling to offer reprieve for even a second, giving the unblemished areas of his skin little nips every time he passes over them and leaving behind marks of possession. “Fuck, Robert, what you do to me.”
“Turn you into an animal, it seems like.”
It’s said lightheartedly, aroused, if anything, but Chad still can’t help but scoff to cover up his displeasure at being so pointedly called out. It’s not like Robert is fully aware of what he’s implying, but the accuracy of it cuts to the core. He knows he should tell Robert about his… extracurriculars at some point if they’re going to continue on like this, if they’re going to become even more than rushed hookups and aggressively flirtatious banter, which Chad very much has his sights set on. Unfortunately, the risk might outweigh the potential benefits.
Chad pictures the perks: having someone around to help him into his gear, the freedom to go deep inside his own head when he feels the primal call, a hold on his collar that feels like security instead of control. Getting to wrap his arms around Robert as he wrecks him from behind without a thought in his mind other than breeding his bitch is, frankly, secondary to the relief of finally being completely honest. He pictures the risk of doing so, too: Robert’s face twisting into an uncomfortable smile of appeasement before he gently suggests they call things off. It’s a dramatic assumption of behavior, especially considering the passion Robert fucks with, but Chad knows not everyone has a taste for leashes and leather.
“‘S that such a bad thing?” Chad chances, continuing his path of kisses upwards in between words with faux nonchalance. He doesn’t dare look Robert in the eye. “That you make me lose control?”
“Not even close,” Robert says, breathless. His fingers dig into the muscle of Chad’s shoulders, using them to brace himself as he grinds down steadily into his aching erection. “It’s hot as fuck, actually.”
A three-fingered hand weaves its way into Robert’s hair before yanking it backwards, baring his throat to Chad's canines. “Yeah? You like being my bitch?”
Robert makes a high, strangled noise in the back of this throat, one Chad now instantly recognizes as reluctant confirmation. His eyelids flutter over the biggest, wettest irises to ever exist as he tries his best to pretend like he’s not about to cum in his pants over a tease and some rough handling. “Maybe.”
Chad smirks. “Yeah, you fuckin’ love that shit.”
In lieu of a response that would likely only serve to humiliate him even more, Robert surges forward and locks their lips again. He’s more aggressive this time, even with the tight hold on his hair, nipping and sucking and baiting Chad into putting him in his place. He happily obliges, digging his nails into the boniness of Robert’s hips as he rolls them over and settles himself on top, an unwavering weight. Robert squirms beneath him uselessly, more to test how trapped he is rather than actually trying to get away, and whines into the kiss when he realizes it’s well and thoroughly.
Chad presses Robert into the cushions with his body until his breath starts to come out short and wheezy, just like he knows he likes. He pushes lightly at Chad’s chest once the need for air comes unbearable and gasps when they part, his mouth pink and glistening where it's dropped open whorishly. His legs part even further when Chad rocks his hips, pressing his hard cock into the subtle dip of Robert’s pussy through his work pants. He fucks forward roughly without thinking, hard enough that when Robert yelps, he realizes it’s from pain over pleasure and pulls back.
“Shit,” he pants, running a soothing hand up and down Robert’s side. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just… got carried away.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Even laid flat and flushed beneath him, he still hits that pathetically concerned look typically reserved for after failed dispatches that does more harm than good to Chad’s ego. “You wanna talk about it?”
Chad snorts, sitting up slightly. “About?”
“Whatever kinky shit you’re into that you’re not telling me about.”
“You don’t wanna know.”
Leaning back down, Chad attempts to lock their lips once more, bury his face against his neck, do something, anything, but Robert stops him with a single gentle finger against the center of his forehead. His arousal remains, but concern is clearly creeping in at the edge of it.
“Yeah, actually, I do. Must be pretty bad if you don’t wanna share after everything I’ve let you do to me.” A little smirk quirks Robert’s lips and he runs one hand through Chad’s hair while the other slides down his chest, caressing his pecs. “What is it? You wanna put a cig out on me? Fuck me midair while you’re flying? We can try that.”
The images those assumptions put into Chad’s brain make him shiver, insane and inaccurate as they are. “Freaky little bitch. But, no, none of that. It’s… weird.”
The sudden seriousness of the situation isn’t a total boner killer, not yet, but Chad still sits back up and gives Robert some space since it sounds like they’re finally doing this. Despite the distance he tries to put between them, Robert pays no mind and follows, snuggling into his side. He reaches out and takes Chad’s hand, threading their fingers together in an unexpectedly sweet gesture for what amounts to a booty call. As much as Chad’s instincts tell his hackles to raise and teeth to bare in the face of being doted on against his will, he can’t bring himself to get angry at Robert for it. He’s been finding himself less and less capable of it entirely these days.
“I’m not gonna judge you,” Robert says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Seriously. Has there been anything I’ve said no to so far?”
Chad gets a chill when the scarred ends of his mangled fingers are gently stroked. “I… guess not.”
“Exactly. So tell me.”
Sighing, Chad concedes. “I’ll just show you.”
He leaves Robert waiting on the couch as he stalks off to his room with his head held high, confidence of his posture much more unwavering than he feels. Shutting the door behind him, he takes a deep breath and heads for the deepest, darkest corner of his closet. Tucked away there is a nondescript plastic bin covered with a blanket and stuffed to the brim with black leather, golden hardware, and just a touch of his shame. All the gear he owns is expensively stunning, handmade works of art he’d otherwise be proud to boast everywhere he went if it weren’t for the absurdity of them.
Dragging the box into his room, Chad begins to pick through worn straps and shiny buckles, deliberately pulling out the things that he knows will appeal the most to Robert. Best to make this as palatable as possible. He picks out a black bulldog harness stitched with bright orange thread and a matching collar studded with two rows of golden spikes he knows for a fact he looks hot as fuck in, the first set of custom gear he had ever splurged upon as well as the first treat he had allowed himself with SDN’s money. It had been a paycheck well spent. Even so, the D-ring on the collar has remained sad and empty, waiting for a tag, since he received it in the mail.
Chad strips his shirt and straps himself into everything, taking his sweet time with it. The sensation has become almost ritualistic for him, and he’s got no issue making Robert wait for this. He’ll still be sitting patiently on the couch like a good boy when Chad is ready for him. The earthy smell of the tannins, the creak of the leather, the pressure around his chest and against his windpipe, all of it sinks him deeper into the creature of a headspace that had already been prowling around the corners of his brain. By the time he’s decked out in black and gold, his cock is straining against the crotch of his sweatpants again and he’s practically slobbering at the thought of getting to breed Robert like this.
He’ll leave the muzzle behind. For now.
When he cracks open the door, Robert is relaxed into the corner of the couch and picking at his fingers, but he looks up when he hears footsteps. He watches, eyes wide, as Chad emerges from the shadows of the hallway and into the warmth of the lamplight. His expression is unreadable beyond stupefaction, his neck craning back as Chad approaches him and comes to a stop in front of his spread legs. He gulps as his chin is cupped and held steady, keeping his eyes facing front and center. Rejection feels further and further from imminence as Chad watches Robert’s pupils blow while his gaze travels up and down his body, taking in the gear, his erection, the predatorial posturing.
“You like it?”
Robert nods. Chad swipes a thumb across his parted lips.
“You get what I’m trying to tell you?”
Robert nods again, but it’s slower this time, unsure. He examines Chad with that unreadably calculating classic fucking look he loves to tout, but ends it off with a kiss pressed to the pad of his thumb and his face leaned into the grip on it. “I think so.”
“And, you’re okay with that?” Chad tries not to let the apprehension into his voice, but he’s pretty sure he fails. Vulnerability has never been something he excels at, and that goes double when it comes to risking the image of his sexual prowess. “Me wanting this. With you. Obviously.”
“Chad, I literally have a dog. I like dogs. Love them, actually.” His cheeks go pink as he shrugs and ducks his head with sudden coyness. “I… wouldn’t mind having another.”
That actually gets a startled laugh out of him. There’s no way it’s that easy, not even with the sort of little freak Robert can be. “You cannot be serious.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” Chad steps back and starts to pace back and forth in front of the couch. He runs his hand over his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been successful at breaking despite the tangles it causes. The clinking of the buckles seems to echo in the small room with each step he takes. “It’s fucking weird! You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Would you prefer it if I did?”
“Of course not!” Chad huffs. He tugs at his collar, the tightness starting to feel more constricting than comforting. “I just… thought it would scare you off.”
“Well, it didn’t.” Robert stands and follows after him, tugging his hand gently away from his collar to replace it with his own. He traces the edge of it with his index finger, making Chad shiver at the barest brush of his fingernail against heated skin, his pounding pulse. “So. Where’s your leash?”
Chad another laugh bubbles out of Chad, but this time with actual humor over disbelief, and he slaps at his thigh because yeah, the thought of that is hilarious. “Oh-ho, wow. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Robbo,” he gets out once he composes himself. “Nobody, and especially not you, puts me on a leash.”
Robert scoffs. “Isn’t that like the entire point? I mean, I’ll admit, I’m surprised that you of all people, Mr. Big and Scary, wants to play cute little puppy, but-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Immediately done with that bold assumption, Chad slaps a hand over Robert’s mouth. He half expects the brat to try and bite him for his troubles, but he behaves. “You gotta slow down. I actually don’t think you’re understanding this, like, at all. I am not some cute little puppy, and if you ever try to treat me that way, I’ll fuck the sense back into you. Got it?”
Robert shifts, pressing his thighs together, and gives a careful nod. Heat builds against Chad’s hand where his cheeks grow warm.
“Mhm, good boy. I’m still in charge here, bitch. Nothing about that changes just because you want me to be your dog now. Understood?”
There’s a vibration of verbal agreement against his palm, and Chad releases him with a terse nod. “Good. Now, help me get this shit off. I’m way too worked up for it right now, I’ve been dying to ruin you all day.”
“Oh, yeah?” Robert says sarcastically. He leans in, slotting their legs against each other and draping his arms over Chad’s shoulders to link them together, his fingers playing at the buckle of the collar as he undoes it clumsily. “It’s not like I could tell from the way you never stop fucking staring. You’re gonna get us caught without even saying anything.”
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t let me do whatever I wanted to you in front of the whole team if I asked.”
“Maybe so.”
They tumble onto the couch together, leathers dropping heavily to the floor as they’re shed from Chad’s body and whatever tension that remained discarded along with them. They don’t make it to the bed that night, Robert riding him on the couch hard enough to bruise both their hips and leave a wet, sticky spot on the cushions that, once again, makes Chad extremely grateful for going with leather over fabric. His brand remains forever strong. They fall asleep curled up together with only Chad’s powers to keep them protected from the nighttime chill, and it’s such a tight squeeze that it should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t.
It never is with Robert.
~~~
The situation at hand doesn’t come up again for about another week. They still link up as frequently as they can, from late night sex that goes for multiple rounds to rushed makeouts in the janitor’s closet at work, but Robert doesn’t mention Chad’s interest until the next weekend as they have a casual lunch at his place together. They’ve been hanging out more and more lately without the motivation of an orgasm at the end, and it’s been strangely gratifying. Their arguments turned playful banter and bonding over shared history makes Robert more tolerable to be around as a whole, and Chad has found himself mellowing out, much to the notice of the team. They’ve made a daily habit of pressuring him to tell them who’s been such a good lay that they got Flambae, out of all of them, to stop talking back and start shaping up. The true answer is more embarrassing than the implications of withholding it.
Still, Chad invites Robert over and cooks old family recipes for him like he’s a boyfriend and not a boss, and still, they eat together over romantically flickering candlelight like this is about feelings and not sex. He sets a plate of mantu in front of him, a simple dish he had been skeptical about at first but has quickly learned to love, and then settles into the seat across from him.
“So,” Robert starts, poking at a dumpling with his fork, “when do I get to see everything?”
“The hell are you talking about?” Chad says, muffled through a mouthful of meat and pastry. “It’s in front of you.”
“Not the food. Your… stuff. Y’know.”
“Oh.” Chad swallows, thick and audible. “That.”
“Yeah, that.” Robert waves a fork at him, stupidly cute smirk on his face. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Hey, you never asked.”
“Because it’s your thing, genius. You’re clearly private about it, so,” Robert shrugs and taps his fork back on his plate, “I didn’t want to make it weird.”
“Finish your food for once and I’ll show you it all.”
They do exactly that in comfortable silence, a state of being that hardly ever possesses the two of them. When they’re done, Chad, finally satisfied with the amount Robert has eaten, impulsively reaches across the table and takes his hand in his own to lead him back toward his bedroom. He follows close behind, much more like the puppy he had been insinuating Chad might be, and waits obediently at the foot of the bed as he’s sat upon it. He watches with curiosity as Chad drags his bin out of the closet and kicks the blanket off of it, revealing his gear in all its canine glory.
“You wanna see everything?” Chad kicks the bin with the side of his foot, sliding it across the thickly carpeted floor until it comes to a stop at Robert’s feet. “Go ahead and take a look.”
After waiting for Chad to give an exaggerated nod of approval, Robert falls to his knees from the edge of the bed to the floor. He pops the top off and begins to dig. First, he pulls out the harness and collar Chad had already shown off to him, but he doesn’t seem any less fascinated, dragging careful fingers over dulled leather and shiny spikes. He sets them gently to the side before pulling out his muzzle next. It’s a cage of a contraption, made for actual dogs and just barely the right size to fit around a human head. Robert holds it up to him with a raised brow, cradling the metal bars with a care instilled in him by Chad’s past scolding, and jangles it.
“Should I be worried?” he jokes.
“Probably,” Chad answers, completely honest. “You know that self control isn’t my speciality.”
The amusement on Robert’s face is replaced with arousal, pretty and pink, and he ducks his head to go back to picking through the box as Chad watches with a growing smirk. The next thing he pulls out is a brand new leash, the material still stiff and smelling strong, and he holds it up with confusion. An understandable reaction considering what Chad had been firm on before, and it’s his turn to get a little bashful.
“I thought ‘nobody leashed you,’” Robert says, flicking the clasp. “You got another owner I don’t know about?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Chad grumbles, stalking over to snatch the leash out of Robert’s hand and coil it around his fist. “It’s new, alright?”
While it was true, Chad has never let anyone put him on a leash before, he’s been opening himself up to the idea of Robert being the first to do so. It’s more for his benefit than anything else, if Chad is being completely honest. The realization that it might be more of necessity than he thought came to him while jerking off after a long day that ended with them, for once, unable to see each other. He had bit into the meat of his palm hard enough to draw blood when he came to the thought of doing the same to Robert’s shoulder as he fucked a litter into him, growls and ichor spilling from the corners of his mouth as he painted his other hand white. The very next day, he went to his favorite sex shop and purchased the leash. Better safe than sorry.
Robert gives Chad a knowing look that’s far too soft for his liking, and he turns away with a huff, crossing his arms as if it’ll shield the existence of the bunched up leash from Robert’s knowledge. This isn’t supposed to be some ooey-gooey heart-to-heart, and he doesn’t like the way it’s starting to go that direction. He absently waves his hand at the remainder of the bin, encouraging Robert to get on with it instead of dwell on the fact that Chad is broadening his horizons just for him.
The very last of his gear is what he’s been the most apprehensive about Robert seeing. There’s no telling how he’ll react to something so unconventional, so perversely detailed and implication heavy, but it’s by far one of his favorite things to wear, to use. Robert pulls out a satin-wrapped bundle from the bottom of the bin, leaving it empty, and takes his sweet time unwrapping what he’s found. Inside the black fabric, tucked further away from view than the rest of his debauchery, is a bright red silicone sheath with a swollen knot at the base. Robert’s eyes widen as he takes it out and caresses it as carefully as he would a real cock, examining with careful fingers traced over the veins and rubbed over the open tip, right where Chad would be leaking enough precum to make a sizable mess. The way he handles it already has Chad restless, the bulge in his pants starting to grow at the sight.
“Fuck,” Robert whispers, awed. “You wear this?”
“No shit.”
“Fuck,” he says again.
“You okay with that?”
Robert swallows thickly and looks up, the way he’s propped up on his knees a lot more suggestive than it had been a moment ago. His gaze catches on the swelling in Chad’s pants and he licks his lips, practically fucking salivating at just the thought of the cock right out of his reach. “Yeah. More than.”
“Why don’t you help me get ready, then? And we can have some fun.”
The speed with which Robert snatches the harness up and scrambles to his feet, almost toppling over in the process, would make Chad chuckle if he weren’t so flattered, so distracted by how eager this slut seems to be to feel him up. Robert comes to a stop in front of him, fingertips brushing along his skin just under the hem of his shirt before lifting it up and off of Chad. He goes slow and steady, enjoying every moment of undressing him and dragging his hands down along his chest once his shirt is tossed to the floor. The harness dangles from where it’s looped over one of his birdbone wrists, weighing it down.
“Go on, don’t be shy,” Chad encourages, grabbing his hand to help him right the leather straps in the correct orientation. “You can do it.”
Although it’s obvious Robert has never done this before, the care he takes strapping Chad into the harness more than makes up for his clumsiness. He’s handsy as hell once again, taking every chance he can to smooth over the straps and buckles and, consequently, the swell of Chad’s chest. He shudders at a light pass over his nipples and fights the urge to nip at Robert when he sees the self-satisfied little smirk on his face. He makes it just as constricting as Chad likes it, enough so that he can really feel it, every inhale testing the limits of the hide’s stretch.
“That good?” he asks.
He’s concerned. How cute.
“Mm, fucking perfect,” Chad purrs, flexing and stretching just to feel the strain against his muscles. He’s fully hard now, brought to life by the borderline worship of his body. “Keep going.”
Robert does as he’s told, scooping the collar up off of the floor next and pulling it taut. He seems to hesitate before moving to secure it around Chad’s neck, as if being hit by the significance of the moment, what he’s being allowed to do, but eventually does so with much more ease than the harness. Keeping his arms looped around him, Robert pulls him down for a kiss. It’s supposed to be tender, all soft lips and virtue, but Chad is far beyond that now. He rumbles deep in his chest as he forces his tongue into his mouth and walks them backwards into the bed. When the backs of Robert’s thighs hit the comforter, Chad shoves him down onto it and climbs atop him without breaking their mouths apart for a second, the leash falling from his hand and to the floor.
Despite the surprised sound Robert lets out when his back hits the bed, he’s into the sudden roughness it seems, spreading his legs and parting his mouth and rocking his hips up into Chad’s cock. The third time he does it, Chad loses control and pins him to the bed with the full weight of his body, practically smothering him with their size difference. He bites down on Robert’s lip and barely gets a chance to savor the iron before a hand curls around the back of his collar and yanks. Hard.
“Jesus, Chad, relax,” Robert says, blood smeared across his panting mouth and astonishment in his eyes. “I see what the muzzle is for now.”
Chad, just barely jerked out of his primal haze, only gives a short grunt in response before easily fighting Robert’s hold to bury his face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He smells the strongest here; it’s distinctly Robert, like dollar store soap and break room coffee, and, though stale and lackluster, it’s quickly become one of Chad’s favorite things about him. He inhales before licking a long stripe up his thudding pulse, firm enough that he can feel it jump and stutter beneath his tongue. It takes genuine effort not to continue onto his face. The hand on his collar trembles before creeping upwards to bury itself in his hair. Normally, Chad would tell him to knock it off and leave the goods alone, but the mind to even have that thought process is getting further from his grasp by the second.
The urge to bite into Robert, mark him up and down as owned territory for anyone who so much as chances a glance at him, boils at the surface as Chad’s teeth skim along the pale slope of his neck and over his collarbones. They’re normally something easily suppressed, these brutish urges Chad has lots of practice at keeping in check, but he can’t be held responsible for what happens after they’re deliberately provoked. When Robert locks his legs around his waist, pulling him in with them, he wonders if the little shit is trying to make him lose control. He’d probably like it, the masochistic whore. The thought sends a wave of desire crashing over him and he rests his forehead in the center of Robert’s chest as he does his best to gather himself, taking deep breaths.
Robert pets over his hair, stroking over and over in a practiced motion. “You okay?”
Chad just lifts his head, offering nothing but a smoldering gaze from through his lashes and the shortest of nods. Taking it as permission to keep things going, Robert starts to shed his clothes as best as he can in his cramped position on the bed. Chad, spurred into action by the reminder of the layers separating them, follows suit, only much more frantic. His sweats are tossed to the opposite side of the room in a split second, and he immediately gets to doing the same to Robert’s. They’re left sweaty and bared to each other for the umpteenth time that month, but in a way that somehow feels brand new again.
Eyes locked on his dick hanging heavy and thick between his legs, Robert couldn’t look any hungrier if he tried. “Where’s the, uh-”
Chad is up and off the bed before he even finishes, fetching the final items with haste so he can get back to Robert as quickly as possible. He drops the leash and sheath into his naked lap once he climbs back onto the bed and waits, propped up on his knees and trembling with anticipation. His cock drools into his fine satin sheets, but there are more important things than stains on his mind. Things like the way Robert looks holding his sheath, nimble fingers unable to fit themselves the entire way around the knot; like the concentration on his face as he carefully clips the leash to Chad’s collar and leaves the loop of it loosely wrapped around his wrist; like how fucking good it feels to stare at him so openly and think, know, He’s mine.
“C’mere,” Robert coaxes as he reaches for the lube on the nightstand, Pavlovian at this point, and pops the cap over his palm. He tugs lightly on the leash, not even enough to qualify as a command, but it gets the message across.
Chad listens, but only because he wants to, not because Robert fucking told him, and shuffles closer on his knees. His dick bobs with each movement, hanging heavy under the weight of itself, and he has to resist the urge to rut it against the silkiness of his sheets. Although patience isn’t one of his virtues, Chad can hold off if it means fucking Robert the way he’s been salivating over since the first time he got him in his bed. The way he sits hides his pussy from view, but he must be soaked by now, flush high on his cheeks and lubed grip shaky where he wraps it around Chad’s cock.
As soon as he starts stroking, Chad lets out a grunt and lurches forward, slamming his hand onto the headboard besides Robert’s head and leaning in close enough to feel his panting. He huffs and puffs in time to the skillful strokes of his dick, every breath ending on the beginnings of a growl, and ruts his hips, fucking Robert’s hand with an aggression usually reserved for between his legs.
“Can’t wait to fucking breed you,” Chad grunts near his clipped ear, the most coherence he’s managed since he started to slip. “Knot you like the bitch you are.”
Robert’s jerking starts to come faster and he lets out a small whine. He’d make a cute puppy, maybe even more so than a handler, but that’s for another day. He lets go of Chad’s cock, almost earning himself a snarl before Chad realizes it’s only to fumble with the sheath with slick hands. He shuffles his knees apart even wider in enthusiasm, and fucks forward as soon as he feels a warm touch on him. It’s not easy to hold still as Robert begins to slide the sheath onto him, every single textured bump on the inside running over the sensitive skin of his tip making him groan. It fits around him perfectly, like the best sort of hug, and when the loop is secured around his balls, anchoring the whole thing in place, he feels one touch and two seconds away from ruining Robert for good.
“Down, boy,” Robert says, and it comes out like much less of a joke than he surely meant it to be. His grip on the leash tightens, betraying his nonchalance. “We’re almost there.”
Finally, fucking finally, Robert shuffles downwards on the bed, parting his legs as he does and spreading himself out underneath Chad. He’s just as wet as expected, his dick pink and swollen at the crest of his cunt as he rubs two fingers over it and then nestles it between them, pulling back to show off. He twitches when Chad lets his hand drop and settle on his hip, steam sizzling between their skin. He’s so fucking small that he’s almost able to stretch his thumb all the way over to rub over his dick without moving his hand, and Chad throbs at the realization. Precum drips from where his head pokes out of the sheath and onto the scars on Robert’s pale belly, dew drops on petals.
Without waiting for permission, Chad dives in.
Robert yelps when a mouth is sealed around his dick, his legs kicking up and his hands fly to Chad’s hair. He sucks hard, making him thrash against the bed and muffle his moans into his hand. The leash dangles from where he’s got his teeth sunk into the meat of his palm, teasing. Even with the supposed control Robert has, he lets Chad do as he pleases, throwing a leg over his shoulder to let him get as deep as possible. He licks over his entrance, tracing his tongue around it before just barely pushing in to feel the clench, and then focuses back on his cute little dick. He knows Robert doesn’t appreciate the observation, but fuck, it’s true.
By the time Chad comes up for air, his face is soaked with slick and saliva. Robert is flopped back against the headboard, dazed and drained, with awe in his eyes where he stares downwards. He’s shaking in that familiar way Chad knows means he’s going to cum soon if they’re not careful, so he reluctantly pulls himself back, licking his lips clean. As perfect of a position that he’s in right now, Chad would much rather do this a different way. He’s been picturing how this would go for far too long to not get hung up on the little details, like how badly he’s been wanting Robert on all fours since meeting the fucking guy.
“Knees. Now.” It’s all Chad can really manage. “Please.”
Robert’s eyes go wide, but he scrambles to obey, pushing himself up before falling forward and settling himself on his hands and knees, leash still clenched firmly in his hand. The position puts his dick and pussy on display between his spread legs, both of them glistening and eager, and Chad has to stop himself from burying his face there all over again. When he takes too long to do much of anything, simply taking in the sight before him and trying his best to not turn into a drooling beast, Robert peers shyly over his shoulder and shifts uneasily.
“What’re you waiting for, Fido?” Robert gives the leash a tug, pulling Chad closer. “Mount me.”
Chad, despite the facetious address, does exactly that.
With a rough rumble ripped straight from his throat, he lunges forward and molds his body over Robert’s, covering as much of him as physically possible. Even with the weight he’s packed back on since their first reintroduction to each other, Robert still fits under him easily. Chad has to actively keep from smushing him into the comforter with the force of his weight dropped onto him, making sure to focus the pressure on Robert’s upper back to get that good arch out of him. He ruts between his legs and against the heat of his cunt, shuddering with every catch of his head against the entrance.
Whimpering into his ear like a starving street dog, Chad nuzzles the freckled nape of his neck and licks at it sweetly in a bid for permission. He’s not getting as much friction against Robert as he used to with the sheath on, and it's only making him even more desperate to get inside. He wraps his arms around his bitch’s upper body, squeezing them close together, and nudges his cock at his hole.
Instead of a verbal okay, Robert reaches behind himself, grabs Chad’s sheathed cock, and presses the tip of it to his pussy. Instantly, Chad shoves inside with what could only be called a bark of victory, the tightness of Robert around the sheath making the insides of it massage his dick in the best way possible. He’s used the sheath on other people before, but it’s never felt this good. He fucks forward until he can feel the knot pressing at Robert’s cunt, his hips at his ass, uncontrollable flames licking along his shoulders. His growl once he’s close to fully inside reverberates through Robert and he suns himself in the feeling of being totally surrounded.
It’s not long before Robert starts to get impatient. He wriggles under Chad, trying his best to rock back onto the intrusion inside of him to little avail. Skating his teeth along his shoulder in warning, Chad is content to let him struggle to his heart’s content while he enjoys his insides. He’s warm and tight, even through a thick layer of silicone, and only once he starts clenching around him, fucking brat, does Chad start to lose his composure.
With his knees planted firmly on the bed and his harnessed chest pressed flush to Robert’s scarred back, he begins to rock his hips. He gives these long, slow, deep thrusts that each punch a whiny moan out of Robert, his head thrown back as much as he can against Chad’s bulk on his back. His chest is crushed to the bed as his ass is kept high in the air by nothing but dick and pure force of will. Still, as restrained as he is, his dissatisfaction with the speed Chad is going makes him force his hips back to try to get him to hurry it up. When that doesn’t work, he yanks on the leash hard enough to make Chad choke.
“Fucking hurry,” he whines, already a mess.
Fuck, he just won’t learn his place, will he? Rearing up, Chad wraps his hands around skinny hips and pulls out to just the tip. He looks down at himself, the sight of his cock sheathed in shimmering red silicone and just begging to be buried in a bitch, and that’s all it takes to twist him up with enough arousal to slam back into Robert in a single thrust, just barely stopped before the knot. He gasps, thrown forward by the force of it, and somehow arches his back even further onto Chad’s cock.
He begins to drive into Robert, slamming their hips together as he fucks him with the force of a feral animal. The leash clinks where it’s connected to the collar with every beat. After how many times they’ve been together, Chad knows the exact angle to hit his sweet spot as well as he knows the freckles on his face, and even with his brain blurred, finding it takes no effort at all. He can tell the moment he strikes it, Robert yelping beneath him and pulling at the leash hard over his shoulder. Chad snarls at the feeling, torso forced forward so he doesn’t choke, and digs his nails into the plush of Robert’s flesh. They’re blunt enough to not do any lasting damage, but the feeling makes him cry out all the same.
“Chad, fuck, ah, fuck,” Robert pants, his hold on the leash only getting tighter and tighter the harder Chad fucks into him. “Breed me, please.”
It’s a good thing Robert had his tubes tied way back in the day because, after hearing that, there’s not a chance in hell Chad is going to pull out. He thrusts into him with violence, the rhythmic smacks of their hips echoing along with the creak of the bed frame, and marks him along every inch of skin he can reach with claw and fang. The knot starts to slip in more with each and every stroke as Robert is stretched to his limits. He tries to reach under himself to rub at his dick, but the amount of power behind the pounding of Chad’s hips keeps him pinned, arm bent at an awkward angle. Not that Robert cares, drooling into the suede of the comforter. Another stain to worry about another time.
With orgasm on the horizon, the temperature in the air rises and Chad’s movements falter, hips starting to stutter and groans of pleasure becoming choked off. He lets himself fall, covering Robert with the entire bulk of his body once again as he wraps his arms around him for more leverage, biceps bulging where he just about crushes the little guy in them. He humps his hips as close as possible to the minuscule roundness of Robert’s ass, circling them to work the knot as deep as it’ll go. It pops in with tangibility, both of them letting out moans in tandem as Chad slips in further than either of them expect. All it takes is a few more aborted thrusts into the tight grip of Robert’s cunt, bumping up against his cervix, and he’s cumming with a veritable howl, his teeth sinking into the meat of his neck before he can even think it through.
He fucks forward through the scorching crash of pleasure over him, grinding in as hard as he can as Robert writhes under him, pushing back onto the knot and squeezing like a vice. It’s so tight, pulsing around Chad, that there’s no doubt he’s finishing right along with him, his cries of pleasure muffled by the press of his face straight into the bed. Chad does his best to fuck him through it without having to face the tragedy of pulling out so soon, rolling his hips and even being so gracious as to reach down and give his dick a couple of two-fingered strokes. Thank God that’s all he needs.
“Mine, mine, mine,” Chad mumbles mindlessly through a mouthful of flesh and maybe just a hint of blood. “My fucking bitch.”
Robert hums in affirmative, a wet, twitchy mess where he’s collapsed into the linens and stuck firmly on Chad’s knot. “Sure. All yours.”
Chad can’t help but rumble in pleasure again deep in his chest as he basks in the afterglow. There’s something about the slight discomfort of being post-scene, leathers sticky with sweat and thighs smeared with cum, that’s strangely enjoyable for how much he hates being dirty. He reaches down between their bodies and slips a finger around Robert’s pussy where he’s split open on the knot, feeling the stretch of it, how much cum has managed to escape, just exactly why he’s being so fucking squirmy. He tips them to the side, collapsing into the blankets and pulling Robert with him with a small noise of surprise.
“So good, such a good boy for me,” Chad mumbles, licking over the wound he left with a sick sense of pride. “Mm, my handler.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that shit to you?”
“Mhmm.”
Robert looks over his shoulder with an arched brow, surprised at the honest answer to his sarcastic question, but it’s almost immediately eclipsed by amusement. “You’re a good boy, Chad.”
Fuck. Chad shudders, pressing his forehead into the back of Robert’s head and wrapping his arms around him even tighter and pulling him into his igneous embrace. He rocks his hips, jostling his cock where it’s buried inside him and making them both tense up. Sue him, sometimes a little bit of praise is nice to hear.
“You were so good for me. My good dog.”
Chad whimpers in a very un-alpha-dog-like way, throwing his leg over both of Robert’s to hold him still and fuck into him easier. The ridges of the sheath against his overstimulated cock feel so good they hurt, but it’s impossible to not nudge himself even deeper the second he feels Robert opening up to him. He yanks them as close as possible with a hold on the jut of his bony hip and prays he’ll be allowed to stay like this all night long.
~~~
Chad had not been allowed to warm himself inside Robert for the rest of that night. A few hours of the best sleep of his life had gone by before he woke up to Robert tugging at his arms and attempting to free himself from entrapment on his knot. While Chad had bemoaned the loss, Robert had more than made it up to him with his mouth not a moment later, so he couldn’t be too upset about it.
Besides, they’ll have plenty of opportunities to try again.
Ever since then, things have been… intense, to say the least. Chad can feel the dog in him pacing back and forth at the mere thought of getting Robert on his knees again, and oh, his innocent little dispatcher is just as greedy for it. His gear has never gotten more use, and neither have Robert’s holes. Fair’s fair, if he does say so himself. He’s expecting more of that when Robert comes over one evening, looking nervous in a way he hasn’t since they first started hooking up. It’s strange, considering they’re closer than they ever have been now.
Chad invites him in, but when he moves to make a kiss, Robert turns his face away like some kind of jilted lover.
Blinking in surprise, Chad says, “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about first.”
A stone settles into the pit of Chad’s gut. Oh fuck, this is it, isn’t it? He was too intense, too much of an aggressive animal to handle, and now he’s gonna be left out in the cold. He backs off of Robert, good mood dissipated. “You want to end things.”
Neither of them move for a moment. Then, shockingly, Robert laughs and sputters. “Uh, no, what? No. That’s not- no. Look.”
Reaching into his pocket, Chad still can’t help but prepare himself for the worst. He doesn’t know what could concern his doom that’s pocket-sized, but he braces for impact as Robert holds out his hand. But, in the center of his palm, lies no instrument of the destruction of Chad’s happiness. It’s only a simple dog tag. It’s circular and orange, because of course it is, and spells out his name in blocky letters that actually fit his vibe quite well. A solid choice for someone with no style. Robert flips it over to show his own name on the back, his phone number uselessly lasered into the metal beneath it.
“I thought… I wanted to know if maybe you want to make things more… official.”
Chad looks up. Robert won’t return it. His gaze is aimed down, embarrassed, shy, as he shuffles on his feet like a nervous kid. Chad is pretty sure he knows what he’s implying, that he not only wants to be his handler, but his boyfriend. A partner, in every sense. He takes the tag from Robert’s outstretched hand and flips it between his fingers, weighing it and the decision itself.
He hasn’t been this happy in a long time. He hasn’t felt more secure in himself in even longer. All of it is because of Robert, fucking Mecha Dick who stole his tooth and his fingers and his dignity, and Chad still has the audacity to want more. And here he is, offering it up. Offering himself up.
And just like a loyal dog, Chad will take him without question.