Archive of Our Own

Knock.

Robert narrowed his eyes at the door from his sprawled position on the floor, swallowing a mouthful of whiskey. The shadows of two legs blocked the hallway light from shining through the crack at the bottom of the door. Maybe if he pretended not to be here, the legs would leave.

Another swig. Another knock.

Knuckles whitened around the neck of the bottle as Robert’s jaw clenched. An evening alone, self medicating on his apartment floor, was too much to ask. He hadn’t even made it to the medicating part, barely feeling the buzz of the liquor. 

Knock knock knock.

Rolling onto his side, Robert faced Beef, who panted in excitement, head swinging between Robert and the door. “I knew something would fuck up our night together. A moment of peace, that’s all. Can’t I just have…” Robert continued mumbling to himself as he stood, knowing the answer was no, apparently not.

Knock knock.

The strength behind those hits gave Robert pause and he glanced down at Beef again. Cautiously, he stepped toward the door, holding his breath as he listened to the silence. 

Knock.

The walls shook with that one and Beef whimpered. “Shhh… you’re okay.” Robert cooed as he slowly inched toward the stranger. Reaching for the doorknob, Robert briefly considered that pants were a common courtesy garment for answering house calls, but shrugged as the lock clicked out of place.

Swinging the door open, Robert barely registered a flash of black and orange before he was reacquainted with his apartment floor. “Fuck.” His tongue was met with the coppery taste of blood as it explored the inside of his left cheek. 

The door slammed shut with the click of the lock again. “Stand up, bitch. Just a love tap.” Making himself at home, Flambae strolled through the living room. “This place sucks.”

Opening and closing his mouth, Robert tested his jaw as he clung to the countertop for support to stand. “Didn’t even hurt.” He managed to breathe out. “Didn’t know I hired an interior decorator. I’ll take your input into account. Now if you’ll…” Robert gave a nod and pointed to the door. Maybe Flambae was content with one ‘love tap.’

“Dark as fuck.” Flambae was evidently more interested by the lack of light sources than leaving Robert to his solitary drinking. “How do you see what you’re doing? Not that there’s anything to do here, anyway.”

“Microwave light.” Reaching up, Robert hit the button on the over-the-range microwave, providing a small glow of warm light.

Staring at Robert, Flambae huffed out a laugh. “You’re pathetic.” The scrutinizing eyes slid down Robert, who pulled at the hem of his dress shirt, thankful that he kept his underwear on at the least. “Mecha Man.” Flambae stalked toward Robert. “Have anything to say to me?”

Eyes flicking to the door, Robert took a few paces back as he refocused on an advancing Flambae. “Oh, what? You want an apology? You were burning down a mall. Granted, the shelf-life of the shopping mall is about to be up - but you hurt people. I won’t apologize for stopping you.” Robert halted his retreat and glared up at Flambae, despite his hammering heart.

“An apology would be a nice start.” Flambae kept a few inches between the two of them. “Then we can even the score.” He waved the hand that was missing two fingers. “And all the while, you can explain to me why you were fucking letting me pick up fucking croissant sandwiches for fucking Mecha Man.” 

Robert’s hands curled against his thighs as his legs twitched with the primal urge to run. “Okay.” He said dumbly, hoping his brain would catch up and come up with something witty and defusing to say. “I am sorry for hiding the truth from you. Yes. I knew you would be upset when you found out who I was - rightfully - and death by immolation has always been something I strive to avoid.” 

“Mecha Man scared of me?” The hand that was held out summoned a fireball, the flame resting in his palm. “That can’t be right. No, Mecha Man’s not scared.” A smile crept across his face, lit like a kid reading a ghost story by the blaze in his hand. “Robert is.”

The fireball inched closer to Robert’s face, forcing him to turn his head. “Yeah.” Chest heaving with the effort of staying still, Robert kept his attention switching between the fire and Flambae’s face. “Yeah, okay? I’m scared. Can we… Can we drop the theatrics and talk?”

The only indication that the flame was extinguished was the cool air hitting Robert’s sweat-drenched face as a fist collided with his stomach, doubling him over. Taking advantage of his vulnerable position, another punch struck his face, this time his right cheekbone. Robert dropped to one knee, clutching at his abdomen as he wheezed each breath in. 

Merciful Flambae simply watched as Robert recovered, patiently leaning on the counter. “Fuck, you know it’s not common I fight a normie. Not that this is much of a fight. Just - usually people stand right back up and get to swinging. Going to take forever.”

“Ah - well, I think I get the picture.” Grasping at a handle, metal whisks and spoons clinked across the tile as Robert accidentally pulled a drawer out in his frantic attempt to stand. “Fuck.” He kicked them away and also leaned against the counter, slightly less casually and much more desperately than Flambae. 

“All alone, Robert.” Flambae’s gaze followed Robert’s hand as it wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “No Blonde Blazer. No Golem. Just like that night. Just us.” He gestured dramatically around Robert’s embarrassingly empty apartment. 

A laugh was coughed out. “Something’s missing from that night…” Pretending to be in deep thought, Robert cocked his head, ignoring the way it throbbed. “Oh, yeah. I’m not Mecha Man. Not anymore.” 

“You’re right.” Another unnerving smile. “I wouldn’t be able to kill Mecha Man.”

Robert’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened. “Flambae. Don’t. We can talk. We can -” Cutting himself off, Robert crouched to arm himself with a knife that had escaped the drawer before sprinting to the now unattended door. Jiggling the knob with a useless, trembling hand, his blade-wielding one was seized and pinned against the wood. Flambae slammed it against the door a few times, trying to force Robert to drop the knife, but he only tightened his grip,

“Fucking let it go. What are you going to do with that? Stab me? Cut more fingers off? Drop it or I’ll just tear your arm off.” Flambae’s words were spoken directly into Robert’s ear as he pressed Robert against the door. 

The knife clattered onto the floor again. Robert twisted his wrist, trying to free it from Flambae’s hold, but the iron grip was instead used to drag Robert back into the kitchen. His arm was pinned against the cold stone as Flambae splayed his fingers. Brain catching up, Robert’s struggle was reignited. “No. You don’t have - please, we can talk.” 

For once, Flambae said nothing. The knife had been retrieved and was hovering dangerously above Robert’s hand. The blade was lightly dragged across his knuckles, aligning. The hand pinning Robert pressed down harder and the bones in his wrist creaked under its weight. 

“Flambae.” He had to keep trying. “It won’t help. Vengeance. You won’t feel any better.” The hypocrisy burned his throat as he had just finished promising Chase he'd kill Shroud.

The knife was lifted, primed for a swing. Robert’s hand twitched uselessly. There was a pause, Flambae savoring the moment. Then there was the familiar sound of metal against tile before Robert was thrown to the ground.

Flambae was pressing a hand against his own temple, staring down at the dropped knife. From his position on the floor, Robert fought the urge to mock Flambae for bitching out. Best not poke the bear that could broil his organs.

After a few long moments, Flambae stared down at Robert. “Get up.”

Obeying, Robert pushed himself to his feet, standing awkwardly in front of Flambae. He maintained eye contact, Flambae’s lack of will to mutilate him boosting his confidence. 

Without warning, Flambae fisted his hands into Robert’s shirt and shoved him against the wall. The air rushed out of Robert’s lungs with the impact. Sucking in a breath, Robert waited, feeling Flambae’s hands trembling as they clung onto him. 

Each heaving breath pressed Robert’s chest against the hands holding him. Hesitantly, Robert lifted his own hand, using it to try to pry himself free from the grip. With uncanny speed, one of Flambae’s hands effortlessly grabbed his wrist, pinning it above his head. Robert gasped at the movement, focusing his attention back on Flambae’s eyes.

The hand still balled in the shirt loosened, shifting to Robert’s neck, tracing his jawline. The soft touch was all Robert needed. Straining against Flambae’s grip, he leaned forward, his shoulder aching, and managed to press his lips against Flambae’s before being harshly rammed back against the wall.

There was another silent staredown, Flambae’s eyes scanning over Robert for a few moments before pouncing. His lips smashed against Robert’s with so much force that Robert’s head collided painfully against the wall. 

Robert’s free hand reached for Flambae, roaming over his chest. With a grunt, Flambae captured that wrist as well, pinning both easily with one hand above Robert’s head. The strength, the vulnerability, it made Robert’s legs tremble. 

Pressing into the kiss with shameless desperation, Robert pulled at his makeshift bondage unconsciously. Flambae leaned back, breaking the kiss, watching Robert try to chase him. “Fuck, look at you. Wouldn’t have guessed fear of finger removal is what Mecha Man uses to get his rocks off.”

“Makes the job easier.” Robert was still tugging at his restraints, feral for contact. 

The hands manhandled him into the center of the living room before releasing him. There was another fireball in Flambae’s palm. “What about that threat of immolation? That work, too?” It - apparently - did work as Robert suddenly felt lightheaded. Flambae must have noticed the way Robert’s dilated pupils stared at the flame. “Good. Then, strip. Or we can work on adding more scars.”

If this wasn’t the only shirt he had for work, Robert would have torn it off, ripped it to shreds. Instead, he carefully tugged at the buttons, unable to tear his gaze away from the fire. Shrugging it off, he tossed it onto the counter, stalling as he glanced down at the only other garment he was wearing.

“So delicate.” Robert’s abdomen flexed as Flambae’s hand swept across it, touching a bruise that was blossoming there. “All the marks you have.” The other hand brushed his cheek, the skin reddened and angry. “All the marks I leave on you.” 

And Robert moaned. “Make another mark.” The words were choked out. “Make another. With that.” He nodded at the fire Flambae was holding. 

Flambae’s eyebrows raised as he considered Robert. The fire was brought closer, held in front of Robert’s face before lingering over his chest. The flame licked the skin just above Robert’s nipple, making him gasp. He fought against his body and its animalistic attempts to pull away, forcing himself to still, forcing his eyes to focus on Flambae’s intent gaze.

It was only just singeing his skin, the skin barely darkening under the fire. The flame vanished. The cold air soothed the tender flesh and it quickly developed a sheen - whether from sweat or damaged skin already trying to heal. 

With renewed desperation, Robert lunged at Flambae, kissing him hungrily. Flambae kissed back with mirrored ferocity. His hand brushed Robert’s fresh wound and Robert moaned into his mouth. 

When they broke the kiss, Robert’s tongue flicked against his own split lip, chasing pain’s sweet sting. His fingers found the new burn, feather-light as they touched it, a small, breathy sound escaping him.

Evidently, Flambae had been paying attention, hungry eyes sliding across his bare chest, finding each and every scar. “Fuuuuck.” He laughed out with a smile that should have set Robert’s teeth on edge, but instead made his stomach do a backflip. “Mecha Man’s a pain slut.” 

Hand dropping immediately, Robert shook his head, hoping Flambae didn’t look down at his thin briefs. “No. Fuck you. Just thought you deserved to give me a scar after how many I dished out to you. This,” he pointed back at the injury on his chest, “will heal. Unless you’re hiding gecko powers, those fingers are gone for good.”

The swing was expected. Robert ducked just under Flambae’s arm, landing his own punch to Flambae’s left flank. There was no reaction besides Flambae baring his teeth at Robert as he stood, recovering from his dodge.

“What, I thought you wanted me to hit you.” Flambae’s fists were still raised as he surveyed Robert, sizing him up. Quickly, Flambae kicked out, aiming at the side of one of Robert’s knees. With equal speed and slightly less grace, Robert stumbled just out of range.

“You’ve got to earn it.” Crouching again, Robert rushed at Flambae like a charging bull. His shoulder sunk into Flambae’s stomach, just below his ribs. The quick wheeze indicated Robert found his mark. He smiled to himself as he straightened. “What? Were you using that to breathe?”

A few more coughs - which Robert was thankful for as he caught his own breath. “Little bastard.” Rubbing at his chest, Flambae cracked a knuckle. “You’re going to regret that.” He was surprisingly patient, watching Robert defensively.

Robert would tire long before his opponent at this rate. “Oh, am I?” It was a challenge. “Like I regret embarrassing you during that arson stunt?”

Flambae’s pride would surely be his downfall. Narrowing his eyes at Robert, he surged forward. One punch connected awkwardly with Robert’s upper arm as another whizzed just inches from his ear. The wild haymakers were relentless, landing before Robert had time to react. There wasn’t much force behind them, but several struck against his chest before one caught his temple, sending him to the floor again.

“Is that… Is that all?” The stars were quickly blinked away as Robert pretended to struggle to lift himself off the floor. Flambae circled closer and leaned over Robert. Jumping off his knees, Robert lunged at Flambae, clamping his mouth around his forearm and biting. Hard.

“Fuck!” Flambae shook his arm, dislodging Robert. “Fucking bite me? Learn that one from your chihuahua? Little shit.” He shook his arm out, droplets of blood flecking the wall. “You sure you’re the hero here? You fight dirty.”

Dramatically, Robert wiped his arm over his mouth and smiled, showing off blood-stained teeth. “Not as dirty as you. How many innocent people at that mall? Sent to the hospital because of you?” Robert started raising fingers on one of his hands, nodding as he added each number to the count. 

Hook, line, and sinker. Flambae raised his hand and -

Robert flinched away - not a moment too soon - as a fireball was hurled at his head. It burned a hole into the wall behind him. The silence that fell between them was loud, both of them panting and staring at crisped drywall.

“Shit.” Robert swallowed. “There goes my deposit. I guess better that than my life, right?” Slowly, Robert turned back to face Flambae.

Frozen, Flambae still had his hand out. Lowering it, he shrugged. “Missed on purpose. You think my aim is really that shit?” His arms crossed as his eyes flicked between Robert and the charred wall. It was as close to an apology as Robert would have expected. 

“Uh, yeah.” And Robert forgave him. “I’ve seen your aim a few times now.” Opening his arms, Robert gave an inviting gesture. “Gotta say - I’m less than impressed.”

Flambae’s arms relaxed and his eyes narrowed again. There was one final glance at the wall before his assault resumed. Robert raised a protective arm over his head to block the blow, but the quick strike of Flambae’s arm wasn’t a punch as his hand wrapped around Robert’s wrist.

Tugging Robert closer, Flambae pulled Robert's captured arm up and draped it over his own shoulder. Robert immediately wrapped his other arm around Flambae's neck, using the hold to pull himself up into a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, the two of them both desperately deepening the kiss. Flambae’s hand shifted to the back of Robert’s head as he flicked his tongue over Robert’s teeth, asking for an invitation. Opening his mouth, Robert let Flambae in, swirling his own tongue over Flambae’s and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked at it.

Flambae made a low noise in his throat as he slowly shuffled the two of them backwards, pushing Robert against the wall again, all without breaking the kiss. The hand behind Robert’s head shifted to his shoulder, pressing him flush against the wall. Robert’s own hands released Flambae, resorting to pawing over his suit, tugging at the edges and hoping Flambae would take a hint of his own and take it off.

“Greedy.” Grabbing Robert’s shoulders, Flambae spun him around, pinning his chest against the wall. His hands slipped under the waistband of Robert’s underwear, not yet pulling them down. One of his hands - the one victimized by Robert - settled at the corner of Robert’s mouth as his other hand roamed the curve of Robert’s ass.

The fingers prodded their way into Robert’s mouth, sliding over his tongue. Closing his lips around the fingers, Robert hollowed his cheeks again, letting his tongue curl around them. Flambae moaned into Robert’s ear, pressing his bulge against Robert’s crack. 

With one final thrust into Robert’s mouth, the fingers left as Flambae’s free hand pulled the underwear off in one motion. One of the fingers, wet from Robert’s mouth, pressed against his entrance. Gasping, Robert braced himself on his forearms. 

The finger thrust in, making Robert tense, the stretch making his fists clench. With a few deep breaths accompanying the slow movements of Flambae’s hand, Robert relaxed just before the second finger was added. 

“Fuck.” Robert bit at his lip again, the sting overpowering the burn from the fingers as they spread him, scissoring open. Lips latched onto his neck, scraping teeth against sensitive skin as the fingers suddenly stilled. In a frenzied attempt for more friction, Robert arched his back, trying to impale himself onto Flambae’s hand.

“Greedy bitch.” Flambae repeated, shifting to nip at Robert’s ear. “You want me prepped? Before I fuck you into this wall?” 

Craning his neck, Robert looked back at Flambae. “Do I want lube?” He gave a small shrug. “Yeah, that would be appreciated.”

“Then earn it.” Hands were grabbing at Robert yet again to force him to face Flambae. They then pressed down on Robert’s shoulders, lightly brushing the fresh burn. Robert let the hands guide him, dropping to his knees while keeping his eyes locked with Flambae’s.

Finally, Flambae pulled off his suit to the waist, letting the sleeves flutter to his sides. Without needing to be asked, Robert finished the job, pushing the rest of Flambae’s clothes to the floor. 

Licking his lips, Robert swallowed as he glanced back up at Flambae. Staring up, Robert opened his mouth and swiped his tongue along the underside of Flambae’s cock. Immediately, one hand was tangled in Robert’s hair, the other providing Flambae support against the wall. 

A few laps at Flambae’s tip tightened the grip on his hair. “Stop teasing. Get me all worked up just to kiss my cock?” The muscles in Flambae’s thighs twitched as Robert wrapped his hands around them. 

With a smirk to himself, Robert took Flambae into his mouth, until the head of his cock brushed the back of his throat. Squeezing Flambae’s legs as his eyes started to water, Robert swallowed down his gag as his tongue explored the length. Creating suction, Robert pushed back, letting Flambae slide smoothly out of his mouth as he wiped saliva and pre-cum from his lips. “Teasing?” Robert cleared his throat. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

The stabilizing hand moved to the base of Flambae’s cock as he groaned in frustration. “Little bitch.” Robert’s head was being pushed toward Flambae’s crotch. “You want to play games? You can play my game.” Hand sliding from hair to jaw, Flambae used his new grip to force Robert to look up at him. 

Chivalrous. Robert gave a small nod and Flambae sprung into action. Fingers pressed into his cheeks, prying open his jaw as Flambae rammed himself into Robert’s mouth. Clawing at Flambae, Robert focused on breathing and not choking as Flambae slid into his throat. 

The first thrust was mercifully slow, pulling out long enough for Robert to gasp in a quick breath before gliding back over his tongue. Somehow, the tip settled even deeper and Robert made a wet, involuntary sputter from the back of his throat. “Fuck.” Flambae whispered. “Too big for Mecha Man to handle?”

Narrowing his eyes up at Flambae, Robert very briefly considered biting. Again. Instead, he let it go. If Flambae needed to take shots at Mecha Man while Robert was on his knees - fine. Maybe it would help. Maybe this was how Flambae could work through this without burning Robert alive. 

Robert found a pattern in the thrusts. There was just enough time to suck in a breath through his nose before hollowing his cheeks, sucking at Flambae as he pushed in. Once the tip pressed into his throat, he swallowed around it, blinking back tears as his tongue discovered a vein to massage. Fuck, blowing someone was a master class in multitasking, all while trying not to choke to death.

His beautiful plan crumbled when Flambae’s hips picked up the pace, fucking into Robert’s mouth with increasing speed. No longer concerning himself with sucking or licking, Robert squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax, huffing in panicked gasps of air. 

Pulling out, Flambae kept his hold on Robert’s jaw, watching as Robert inhaled saliva in his frenzied hunger for air, coughing and heaving. “You fucking suck at blowjobs.” 

Robert glared up at Flambae after the light-headedness was over. “Oh, well I’m sorry it wasn’t up to your standards. You try taking -” He started gesturing to Flambae’s dick before biting his tongue, not wanting to give Flambae the satisfaction of Robert complimenting his larger than average size. Much larger than average.

“What?” Flambae thrust into the air. “Bigger than you’re used to?” He held a hand out to help Robert off the floor.

Swatting at the hand, Robert stood shakily, facing Flambae. “Fuck you. Guess I won’t be sucking you off again.”

Robert jumped as a hand wrapped around his cock, thumbing over the pre-cum. “No, you just need practice. Bitch like you can learn to take just about anything.”

He would have agreed to just about anything Flambae said as the hand slowly worked over Robert. Resisting the urge to fuck into Flambae’s hand, Robert leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth and throwing his head back. 

The hand was gone and Robert shuddered at the lack of contact. He was spun again to face the wall, staring at the scorch mark. “Spit.” Flambae commanded as he held a hand out. Sighing as Robert hesitated, he pushed his hand in his face. “I was supposed to go from your mouth to your ass, but you spent too much time whining and crying. Spit. Or nothing.”

“Two fingers and spit? You really know how to get a guy in the mood.” Despite his annoyed tone, Robert felt his body vibrate. 

“Not good enough for Robert, eh? Thought you’d like to feel everything, anyway.” To demonstrate his point, Flambae brushed over the burn he made on Robert’s chest. The unexpected burst of pain made Robert whimper. “See? Plus I can help you relax.” The hand not asking for spit or antagonizing wounds snaked down Robert’s back, warm and pleasant, probably like those massages people get with hot rocks. It was calming.

Robert spit into the hand, but not before shooting Flambae a venomous glare, who irritatingly smiled back. The spit was rubbed over Flambae quickly, coating him in meager lubricant before he lined up.

A thumb slipped into Robert, making him clench. It circled the tight rim a few times before becoming warm - like the fingers that trailed down his back. As it dipped in and out, Robert relaxed, the heat uncoiling his muscles. He pressed his mouth against his forearm to stop the sounds.

“Don’t want you too loose.” The warmth vanished. It was replaced with the blunt head of Flambae’s thick cock, cold with Robert’s spit. He nibbled at Robert’s scarred ear again. “I am here for revenge, remember.”

He should feel scared. That pit of fear and dread in his stomach should have deepened. Instead, Robert’s own cock twitched against his stomach. “Then take it.”

It was Flambae’s turn to tense. “What?” He leaned over to look Robert in the face. “Take it? What, you’re giving me permission?”

Heaving out another quick breath, Robert nodded as he watched Flambae from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. You need this. There’s probably some healthier way of working this out. But we’re both here now. Take your revenge on Mecha Man.” Robert turned to face the wall again, spreading his legs to stabilize and adjusting the positions of his forearms against the wall. “On me.”

The cock nudged past his entrance, the nearly dried spit not doing much in reducing resistance. It burned, the stretch white-hot. Robert bit into his own arm to stop the noise of pain. 

Robert was crying by the time Flambae bottomed out, tears freely falling as Flambae pushed into him all too quickly, not waiting for Robert to acclimate. Pulling out, the cock dragged along Robert’s insides, tugging at the angry flesh. 

Both of them were panting, Flambae from pleasure as he thrust aggressively, Robert from the shock of the thrust. It hurt. But the pain was curling inside him perfectly, tempting him to move his hips to meet Flambae’s, to deepen the thrusts.

One particularly rough thrust forced a small gasp out of Robert, the pain briefly overshadowing the twisted pleasure. “That’s it, bitch.” Robert could hear the smile through Flambae’s words. “Knew you could take it. Mecha Man always could take a beating, huh?”

A breathy “yeah” was all that Robert responded with, body alight and overwhelmed. He moaned in time with another brutal thrust, Flambae’s zeal in pounding into Robert made his heart race even faster.

“Say it.” Hips snapped against Robert’s, slamming his upper body harshly into the wall. “Say that you deserve this.”

“I -” He was cut off as Flambae’s hands grabbed his waist, changing their angle just slightly. “I deserve this.” It didn’t matter if he did at this point. He just didn’t want Flambae to stop.

Satisfied with Robert’s submission, Flambae’s pace picked up to an impossible speed. Robert shifted his hands again, trying to keep himself from stumbling into the wall. A hand pulled at Robert’s hair, forcing his head back. “Look at you, bitch. Taking me…” His voice trailed off into a groan.

The stretch still burned, but Robert couldn’t stop himself from leaning toward Flambae. He moved his hips in time, thrusting shallowly with Flambae, despite the way it made his eyes water.

The movement did not go unnoticed. “Shit.” Flambae struggled to catch his breath. “Knew Mecha Man could -”

A strangled sound escaped Robert as their shared thrusts pressed Flambae against his prostate. Flambae froze and Robert desperately rolled his hips, whining. “What are you doing?” He tried not to sound desperate. “Don’t stop. Take what you need.”

“You’re hard.” A hand moved from his hair to his cock to confirm, wrapping around it and making Robert moan and shift, further fucking himself onto Flambae. “You’re crying and you’re hard.”

Robert waited. For the insults. For the jeers. For the comments about how he was made to be just a slut taking Flambae’s wrath. But they didn’t come.

“Robert.” Robert. Not Mecha Man. 

“What?” Robert was growing impatient, with a hand wrapped loosely around his straining cock and a dick unmoving in his ass. “Finish. I’m fine.”

“Are you…” Flambae rocked his hips and the sudden movement made Robert whimper. “Am I hurting you? Or do you like this?” The tone wasn’t amused or mocking. It sounded concerned.

Trembling at yet another loss of friction, Robert whipped his head around to look at Flambae. “Both.” The admission came out needy. “Please. You need this.” Robert needed this. “Just take it.”

Flambae stared at him, eyes flicking over his face as his brows furrowed. "I thought this would…" He trailed off, then tried again. "Fuck, I thought hurting you would feel different." 

"What?" The words weren't registering. Robert tried to move, to get Flambae to continue, but hands clamped down on his hips, stopping him. "What are you -" 

"Stop." Flambae's grip was firm but not painful. "Just - stop moving for a second." 

Robert froze, fists clenching in frustration. His body was screaming for more friction, more movement, more anything, but Flambae's hands held him still. 

"I want to hurt you," Flambae said quietly, and Robert's breath caught. "I do. I want to make you pay. You're the whole reason I'm in this fucking rehabilitation program. And you kept that from me. But…" His forehead dropped against Robert's shoulder blade. "But if I do that, I can't have this." 

"Have what?" Robert's voice was barely a whisper.

A hand wrapped back around Robert’s cock as hips rolled against his. A moan escaped his mouth and was caught by Flambae as the corner of his lips was captured in a kiss. 

“That feels better.” Flambae muttered through the kiss. 

His thrusts resumed, slower now. The hand around his cock tightened, jerking Robert with each thrust. The stimulation made Robert see stars.

“I hate you.” Flambae growled into Robert’s ear, though his tempo didn’t change. “But I don’t. And that makes me fucking hate you even more.” 

The warmth of Flambae’s hand roamed over Robert’s body, prodding at his fresh burn every so often. “I know.” Robert breathed out as Flambae’s thumb spread the pre-cum around his tip. 

Flambae pressed himself against Robert’s back, settling his head at the crook of his neck. Robert finally reached one of his bracing arms behind him, resting it on Flambae’s hip, encouraging him to pick up speed. The gesture made Flambae shudder. “You know, I thought about this. Even when I wanted to kill you. I thought about this.”

Robert couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “That’s fucked up. Even for you.” His hand squeezed at Flambae’s hip.

“Oh, I’m fucked up?” There was a scoff as Flambae’s free hand poked at the burn on Robert’s chest, eliciting a small hiss. “Let’s see here. You begged me to burn you after I threatened to permanently maim you. Then, you -”

“‘Beg’ is a strong word.” Robert gasped out, letting his head hang limp against his chest as Flambae’s hand twisted around his cock with perfect pressure.

“Oh - hoh, no. You begged.” His voice was more and more breathless with each word. “Then, you got rock hard from fighting.”

Robert was shameless impaling himself on Flambae’s cock, feverishly trying to deepen the thrusts. “To be fair - “ He interrupted himself with a high-pitched whine. “To be fair, I was hard before the fight. Blame it on the knife.”

“Little freak.” His hips snapped forward and Robert cried out. “Then, you deepthroated me. Nothing out of the ordinary there - who wouldn’t want to do that?” Ignoring Robert’s attempt to interject, Flambae shut down his retort by tightening the grip he had on his cock. “Finally, you volunteered yourself to be revenge-fucked. If anyone is messed up here, it’s not me.”

“Yeah, okay.” The words were once again falling on Robert’s deaf ears. “That list - keep it. Hang it on your fridge or something.” Flambae’s pace picked up and Robert leaned forward, arching his back, the coil of tension in his stomach nearly ready to release. “Might need to - fuck - might need - whatever - I like that stuff. Remember it.” 

“Kick Robert’s ass. Then stick your dick in it.” Flambae’s thrusts were unsteady, his legs shaking. “I think I can remember that one.” His hand was jittery on Robert’s cock, struggling to maintain pressure. “Are you close?”

“Yeah - fuck… just…” Robert was trying to fuck into the hand, the low heat building. “Flambae. Please.”

The pressure was back and Flambae gasped as his hips stuttered. “Say my name again.”

“Flambae…” Robert nearly bit his own arm again to keep the sounds contained, but Flambae’s own low groan made him think twice. “Flambae. So close.” A sound Robert had never made before slipped from his lips as Flambae started pumping his dick again. He would have been embarrassed had Flambae not been echoing his every noise.

“Robert -” Flambae saying his name between breathy moans pushed Robert over the edge. 

Robert came with Flambae’s name on his lips, choking on it. He spilled over Flambae’s hand and clenched around him. If it weren’t for the cock still buried in his ass and Flambae’s hands steadying him, Robert would have collapsed to the floor, his vision going white and his legs turning to jelly.

Only a few jerky thrusts later, Flambae followed, an explosive warmth erupting in Robert’s stomach. Teeth were at Robert’s neck, nipping and sucking as Flambae’s breathing evened out. 

“Fuck.” Robert broke their silence. “I need to - my knees are about to give out.” 

Flambae slid out of Robert, who winced as the luke-warm fluid dribbled down his leg. He’d deal with it later. Holding Robert up by his arms, Flambae guided him to the floor before settling next to him. “Such a bitch.” The words were said with a smile.

The cool floor was a relief to Robert’s feverish skin and he splayed out again, sighing. The sink turned on, Flambae washing his hands. When the water stopped flowing, there was the sound of cupboards creaking open. “Looking for something?” Robert didn’t bother looking at Flambae, focused on the ceiling.

“Towel.” One was thrown across the apartment, landing on Robert’s chest. “You’re covered in your own cum. It’s disgusting.”

Absent-mindedly, Robert rubbed the towel over his stomach, still slowly catching his breath. He sat up to face Flambae who had joined Robert on the floor, lounging against the wall. “So, what does this make us?” Robert pretended to curl his hair with a finger. “Boyfriend boyfriend?”

Flambae’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Shut the fuck up.” Standing, Flambae stared down at Robert. “Got some aloe or some shit? What do you use to jerk off?”

“What, do you need like a dessert orgasm or something?”

“No, idiot.” Stalking off, Flambae found the bathroom and returned with a bottle of lotion and a gauze pad. “You have a whole fucking trauma room in there.”

“Comes in handy. Occupational hazards.” Robert nearly flinched when Flambae crouched in front of him. 

“Fucking relax.” Apparently he did flinch. “The burn. Wash it. Moisturize it. Cover it. Non-stick.” The packaged gauze was waved in Robert’s face. 

“Oh.” Robert nodded, attention flicking to each of the tools. “Show me how it’s done?”

Flambae pointed to a few of the scars littering Robert’s body. “Someone that looks like this wants a lesson in wound care?”

“Clearly I need one.” Robert grabbed Flambae’s hand and guided it to one of his healed burns, raised with a slight pink hue. “Infected. Healed like shit.” Keeping his hand on Flambae’s, Robert stared up at him. “How can I reject the chance to learn from the burn expert?”

There was a brief moment that Flambae seemed unsure if Robert was antagonizing or flirting as calculated eyes swept over him. Sighing, Flambae helped Robert to his feet, supporting under one of his arms, leading him to the sink. “Wash it. You know how to wash? Soap. Water.” Despite the irritated tone, Flambae was the one who lightly rubbed the soap over the burn and carefully checked the temperature of the water before rinsing.

“Ouch.” Robert said slowly as the wound was dabbed dry. “Perform wound care on all your victims?”

Narrowed eyes slid from the lotion to Robert’s face. “No.” Flambae said plainly, massaging a thin layer of moisturizer over the burn. “Just the little bitches.” His fingers pressed harder and Robert groaned, pulling away.

“The fuck?” Robert’s hands were held in front of him protectively. “Fucking ow.”

“Thought you liked that.” Shrugging, Flambae batted Robert’s arms away and kept rubbing gently at the wound. 

The angry burn was soothed by the lotion. “Yeah, well. Time and place, you know?”

“Oh?” Flambae was unwrapping the gauze pad. “Makes perfect sense. Your life being threatened. Your fingers nearly cut off. Yes, Robert, that is the best time to be a horny bitch. Fuck is wrong with you?”

Robert hissed as Flambae flattened the pad against his skin. “Knew you wouldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Cut off my fingers. Kill me. I knew you wouldn’t.”

Jaw clenched, Flambae had the same look in his eye as when he threw that fireball. “You don’t know shit. I could have killed you if I wanted to. At any moment.”

“Yeah. That’s my point. Though I will be the first to thank you for sparing me.” Robert smiled as Flambae’s fingers were back at his chest, aligning the tape. “But I am sorry you didn’t get that revenge you wanted.”

Scoffing, Flambae lightly slapped the bandage he applied, making Robert wince. “Watching Mecha Man choke on my cock was good revenge. Not what I planned when I knocked on your door, but knowing how to improvise - it’s important.”

“Hey, how did you find out where I live?”

“Oh, fuck.” Flambae glanced around the room. “What time is it?”

“Quarter after eight,” Robert responded after craning his neck to see the microwave.

With a quick laugh, Flambae threw Robert’s discarded shirt at him. “I guess we’re lucky reformed villains still have horrible time management skills. They were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?” Scooping up his shirt, Robert fumbled with the buttons. “People. Z-Team. Coming here?”

“Housewarming party.” Flambae pointed a finger around Robert’s apartment. “And you need one. House is cold as hell.”

“Shit.” Running a hand through his hair, Robert’s eyes darted around his apartment, from the pile of dirty laundry to the bottles of half-drank liquor. Fuck it. “Are you staying?”

Freezing, Flambae looked at Robert like he hadn’t considered the thought at all. “I should probably go. Don’t want anyone getting jealous, do we?” He had walked to the door, but he was just staring at the knob.

The pang of disappointment in Robert’s chest was unexpected. “You’re welcome to. Stay.” Flambae was pulling up his suit, the material sliding over toned muscle. “I mean, it’s usually considered bad manners to leave before the cum in my ass has even cooled.”

“Fuck you.” But Flambae took a step back from the door. “I’ll stay.” He whirled on Robert, aggressively balling his fist in his shirt again. “Tell any of them what happened, make a single joke about us, and I’ll -”

“I think I’ve heard this one before. Let me guess.” This time, Robert leaned into the hold, grinning up. “You’ll threaten to cut my fingers off, throat fuck me, and then pin me to a wall while you have your way with me?”

“Fuck you.” Flambae repeated, though he released Robert with a shake of his head. “You’d like that too much.” He growled out as Robert dug through the pile of laundry in search of pants. 

Laughing, Robert slid on a pair of the cleanest looking jeans he could find. “That a complaint? Like you wouldn’t.”

Shadows of legs appeared under the door, mumblings of voices in the hallway. Flambae tensed at the knock.

“Don’t worry.” Walking to the door, Robert shot Flambae a smirk. “I won’t tell them about us. It’s enough knowing you think there is an ‘us.’” Robert didn’t give Flambae time to respond before he winked and twisted the doorknob.