Work Text:
As a superhero, Robert had rarely enjoyed social gatherings not behind a mask and in front of a camera. Then it had been the flash of cameras for a purpose. Holidays, city events, and press conferences for the defeat of the villain. Even as a child, his father had been absent from such gatherings, with Chase the only one who took him to school events years ago. The habit of avoiding such events had only grown more frequent when he took on the mantle of Mecha Man. Mecha Man was a job that he did alone, few friends and even fewer reasons to go out and socialize.
But SDN, an office job with a schedule more rigid than he had ever had before, did have gatherings. Holidays, retirements, job advancements, and more. The Dispatchers did their best to celebrate together whenever they could. It was oddly. . .pleasant. Sometimes the number of gatherings was even tiring. He would rather go home, enjoy the quiet company of Beef, and pass out in a chair before he could even realize it. Not all Dispatchers have the Z-Team to drag them right, left, up, and down every other moment. Robert Robertson had never not felt tired in his life. Being refreshed was a far-off dream that he was sure he would only feel when he was dead.
But Robert found himself at many of the get-togethers, if someone had done their best to convince him, which was usually, “Are you coming, Robert?” in an array of tones and suddenly himself nodding, a self-deprecating word on his lips. He always folded like a sheet, always. He couldn't even say he folded like a fitted sheet, which he hadn't yet figured in his adult life. Beers or other hard liquors with the Z-Team, Galen's offer of mutual complaining about their jobs, or the offer of actual food that wasn't take-out pizza or ramen, and he was in.
“Are you coming to Jerry's retirement party, Robert?” The voice had been distant as he stared into the void of the vending machine, watching the last Twinkie wobble and weave its way forward. He really didn't want to lose any more money on Twinkies eaten by either the machine or Sonar, but the call for over-processed sugars and what legally could be called cake was stronger than his will to close his wallet. He watched, eyes locked on the snack as it was released from the metal clutches.
“The-the what?” He hadn't exactly acknowledged who it was talking about besides the fact that it wasn't Prism talking about a new TikTok trend that made him feel ancient, or Sonar trying to convince him of some type of cryptocurrency that definitely didn't seem like a Ponzi scheme. They had been the last threads of conversation echoing in his skull as he took the Dispatch headphones off for a break. In his peripheral vision, someone in a blue shirt moved forward, resting a hand on the counter beside him as the movement within the vending machine began. The Twinkie tilted forward, free-falling. It was the only scrap of joy that he felt in the day. But then, as it flipped end on end, it caught, wedging itself between the glass and the front face of a Poptart.
“Jesus fuck.” Robert scrubbed a hand over his face, staring dismissively at yet another lost Twinkie in this accursed break room.
“Are you alright?” As his hand dropped to his side, he felt his head whip to the side to stare at you. The look on your face was only slightly amused, brows lifted as you blinked at him. Oh shit.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Just the damn machine deciding to starve me during my few minutes of break.” There was a huff of laughter on his lips as he tried to scrub the embarrassment from his mind. How he had even caught your attention that first day, he did not know. You had smiled at him as Blonde Blazer gave him a tour, shaking his hand with a warm smile as she introduced you. Fellow Dispatcher, Senior rank, ex-hero, and the cream of the crop for SDN. It seemed like you had never made an enemy, a difficult thing to say while working in an office of both superheroes, villains, and corporate bureaucracy. You worked with the actual superheroes, confident and independent, with their names at the upper lines of the leaderboard. They even bought you drinks on Friday nights, which he could not always expect from the Z-Team members. Why you gave him the time of day was beyond him, especially with his Team always lurking around the corner. But you did that first day, and you continued to, for some reason.
“It sure doesn’t seem to like you. Sonar explained the last time this happened when I passed him in the hall the other day.” Even the Z-Team appeared to like you in some capacity. Whatever happened in the department, you seemed to know with all charm and kindness. Robert barely knew how to comprehend it, let alone why it was directed at him out of all others.
“Great, good to know they are revealing my moments of shame.” His voice was half a mutter, eyes widening as you stepped forward, reaching in front of him to softly flick the glass of the vending machine. A soft sound vibrated through the air, filtered through the glass to catch on the damned Twinkie. He could only describe the sound as that of a cat or small child playing with a doorstopper, a sound that seemed to fascinate all animals and humans, himself included. “Air pressure manipulation.” You had said one night, walking out of the building side-by-side. “It appears more like sound, but it is more like a current. I can’t do anything major, but it can be helpful on occasion.” Robert had not been too sure about that, given that there was a heavy emphasis on ex-superhero when Blonde Blazer had said your name. Self-diminishing seemed to be a character trait of some ex-superheroes, now that he thought about it. But he didn't want to think about that too hard.
But the manipulation of the pressure around the Twinkie did its job: the treat slipped from its perch against the window and thunked into the bottom slot. Before he could move, you leaned over to grab it. He watched the curve of your spine as you dipped, his eyes lingering upon the shape of the curve and where there was a flash of soft skin as your skirt untucked. Robert swallowed hard and flicked his gaze away, doing his best not to look like he had been ogling a patch of skin like a horny teenager.
“Here.” You pressed the Twinkie into his hands with a smile, amused. Robert was doomed; that was all he knew with certainty.
“Thanks.” He offered a smile back, eyes watching the warmth in your own gaze for a moment that lingered too long. The sight of someone walking past the breakroom made him force an awkward cough, tearing into the packaging as he moved to lean against a table. You remained where you were, sliding to rest your shoulder on the vending machine instead.
“What were you saying? The Twinkie had momentarily robbed me of all senses.” His comment made you laugh, and something seized in his body at the sound all aimed at him. Doomed, straight to hell, furthest layer, he'd greet the Devil on the way down. He was screwed.
“Jerry's retirement party, tonight. Are you coming?” Oh, that. Robert could not remember whether he had promised anyone he would be there, aside from the mention that Waterboy had been hired into Jerry's position and that the entire department had chipped in to buy the former custodian a personal massage for his years of hard work at the office.
“Old guy wants it here even though Blazer said the company could have rented something nicer. But nope, he wanted one last night of memories and a dress code of no full SDN uniforms.” Shit. Robert did have a change of clothes stashed in his locker, but it was not party attire, a ratty pair of sweatpants and a blue hoodie that smelled more like Beef than him.
“I am not sure. I don't have any clothes here. And Beef. . .” In truth, Robert didn't know the last time he wore something that wasn't the Mecha Main suit, the SDN uniforms, or something that made him look like he just rolled out of bed. If he did, it dated back far too many years.
“Oh, come on, Robert. It'll be fun. Building after hours, rowdy heroes, drinks, forgetting about the job, and celebrating. The Z-Team can babysit themselves for one night, and everyone loves Beef.” You laughed again, raising a brow at him, the look in your eyes demanding an answer.
“The idea of drunken superheroes does not inspire much hope of a good night.” It was one last plea Robert could say before the look on your face broke his will. You scoffed, shaking your head.
“And what would a good night be? Live life. You might actually get somewhere a little better with your team if you show them a little of your human side.” His mind betrayed him. A good night had been a few days previous, where a Dispatcher beer-after-a-shift suddenly had only become the two of you, his knee pressed against yours, and he could suddenly smell the shampoo that seemed exactly like you, despite the fact he couldn't place the scent. There was a flush to your cheeks that was never there at SDN, and a fond smile that he did not feel like he deserved. “I'll call us an Uber, drop you off, and then drop me off. You're too tipsy to get home.” You had declared, and Robert could only nod, watching as you blew a piece of hair from in front of your eyes. The alcohol had been dull in his system, a pleasant buzz as he stared at you far too openly for a public place. “You can't fly me home? Maybe you have some secret superpower you haven't told me.” You had scoffed, tilting your head. “God, no. If I did, you'd never see me drive into the parking lot in the morning, cursing highway traffic.” The banter had been harmless, each inch crossed without a care. The walk to the waiting Uber had been more like a dignified stumble, and you had grabbed him by the arm as you moved to sit in the car. The ride had been pleasant, full of hushed conversation and laughter. “See you tomorrow, Robert.” Your voice had been warm again, your eyes lingering as he stepped out of the car. His smile had been genuine for the first time in a long time as the car dropped him off at his apartment, and you had waved. That had been a good night. That was the night he was sure you understood whatever underlying tension stood between the two of you. Or at least he hoped you did.
“Showing them my human side sounds like a trap. I gotta be the big bad Dispatcher until they actually show some type of improvement.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.
“My point still stands. We'll all be there. And Beef just hates when everyone pays attention to him and “drops” a piece of food.” He was super-doomed, turbo-doomed, perhaps. Beef was a weakness, and you knew what you were doing when you mentioned the fluffy bastard. And it was all done with a fond smile and glittering eyes, weaving their way into his mind and resurfacing when he closed his eyes at night.
“Fine, fine. I'll be there. I'll need to run and get something decent to wear from home, if I have anything.” Robert paused, flicking his eyes towards the bullpen floor where the rest of the world awaited.
“Don't tell Prism. Suddenly, I will find a hundred videos sent to the work email on style tests, men's fashion, her recent review of a fashion show with a veiled comment complaining about how she wasn't invited.” Laughter met his ears once more, shaking your head at the mental image he spoke it into existence.
“I need to do the same, but have no fear, my lips are sealed.” You offered a more teasing smile with your words, tossing a metaphorical key behind you before pushing yourself forward from the vending machine and back to your chair in the bullpen. One work party couldn't be that bad, even with the Z-Team around.
-
So far, it had not been bad. But then again, he had only walked through the door. What nicer clothes he owned sat loose on his frame, and he had attempted to tame his hair to no avail.
“Bobbo! We had bets if you were going to come or not.” His first greeting was that of a voice he wished not to encounter first. Flambae sauntered forward with some type of cocktail in hand, sporting a necklace that looked more like a collar. Robert decided not to ask questions about that.
“And now I get $50 bucks from Sonar, fuck yeah.” Prism appeared next to Flambae with a smirk upon her face, eyes shaded by the tinted sunglasses. Besides the collar, the two of them looked normal. Apparently, the no-uniforms policy didn't apply to the capes.
“Ah, I should have gotten in on that bet and made money off of all of you.” Robert plucked at his non-SDN shirt, hearing Flambae snort.
“Isn't that what you already do? Making money off of all our hard labor.” The smirk on Flamebae's face was sharp, and Robert knew the wrong word could open a can of worms he didn't feel like trying to shut again.
“I make money managing all of you. Now, where is the food? That is what I am really here for.” Flambae threw a thumb over his shoulder, and Prism let out a “suuuuuuuuure” before Robert walked past them, the slightest of glowers on his face.
And sure enough, most of the SDN had turned out for the retirement party for Jerry. The janitor must have been well loved by his coworkers, Dispatchers, and heroes alike. There were no blue shirts and khakis in sight, besides the khakis he wore himself.
“Couldn't do better than the khakis, Bobert?” Sonar's voice was a deadpan, walking up next to him like an apparition of his own thoughts.
“Didn't have time, you know, work and all. Just grabbed what I could.” Sonar shrugged at his words, munching on what looked like a fancy sandwich as he surveyed the crowd.
“Hm, well, your loss. You just look lame now.” The sincerity in Sonar's voice caused Robert to do a double-take as the bat-man walled away with a shrug. Robert could only sigh, looking out at the party with a resigned look. Beef was waiting for him at home. Or maybe he could go talk to Royd in the basement.
“Oh, Robert!” The voice that broke out from the middle of the crowd caused him to turn his head. It was you, a bright smile upon your face as you approached.
“I thought that you wouldn’t come, but I am happy to be surprised.” Your laugh settled over his chest as you came to stand next to him, beginning your own survey of the scene. You had adhered to the dress code, a change from what he typically expected upon seeing you every weekday. Something that defined the shape of your body, more skin exposed than he had seen before. Robert's eyes dragged over the skin before flicking his eyes towards your own, hoping that you had not noticed his pointed gaze.
“I decided that I should probably make an appearance.” He then gestured to his own clothing with a dismissive hand.
“Although this is the best that I could do, which is not much.” Your gaze landed on the khaki pants you'd mentioned only moments earlier, and you lifted your eyes with a sympathetic look. But Robert did not miss the way that your eyes dragged on his hips, lingering at his waist before raising to look into his eyes. Mutual eye exploration, one that he resisted making a comment out in a more pleasant moment of his day.
“You attempted which, indeed, is something.” You laughed once more at the words as they left your mouth, but the smile on your face was fond.
“But I am glad that you came, Robert. It will be nice to have a face here that isn't so familiar to me. I can only hear some of these villain take-down stories so much.” Before he could respond, he heard someone call out your name, your head turning towards the voice that beckoned you to return to the group. After shouting your own words, you turned your head back to him.
“Everyone does want to get to know more about the Z-Team Dispatcher and how you have survived the job, you know.”
“Phoenix Program Dispatcher, thank you very much.”
“Fine, Phoenix Program Dispatcher, come over and meet everyone else who isn’t an ex-villain?” With your own gaze beckoning him this time, he felt himself being pulled over the group, the chatter becoming more excited as he arrived. Maybe talking to people who were not actively insulting him would be nice.
And so an hour or more passed before Robert could register it, a beer or two pressed into his hands as he weaved through different conversations.
“Has Flambae lit you on fire yet? Oh yeah, it was more than just the car. He did that to the Dispatcher before you, only a minor burn though. . .”
“You must be a strong one, Robertson. Those villains would eat anyone alive.”
“Golem literally got one of my heroes stuck in the mud the other day. I hope that it isn’t my tire next time around.”
The more he talked with SDN members other than Chase or Blonde Blazer, the more he began to understand why the rest of the company had low expectations for his team. He did his best to defend the ragtag group, and much to his surprise, so did you.
“They have a second chance, and they are taking it. That is better than most of the villains we encounter daily. We can at least give them that.” Your words were only further proof that you were truly too nice for whatever he had done to deserve your attention and whatever verged on a careful balance of workplace friendship and something else.
“But come on, Robert, Jerry's looking for more drinks. I am sure you and I are up for the challenge.” Robert blinked back to the conversation, and you looked to him, already beginning to walk away from the group of other Dispatchers, so he had no choice but to wave goodbye and follow after you.
“You don't happen to have super strength, do you? Jerry wants more than a couple of drinks, but a case or two brought out.” You had a few paces on him as he trailed behind, turning your head back to him as he replied.
“No. Just a regular guy. We would want Punch Up or Royd for that.” He heard the ‘hmmmm’ from your throat that answered his response as you continued to walk towards the corridor of one of the breakrooms.
“I doubt that you, Robert Robertson, are a normal guy.”
“What, is it the ‘Robert Robertson the third’ that gave it away?” You let out a laugh at his words and slowed, allowing him to match his stride with your own beside you.
“No, but that might be a factor.” Your eyes searched his own before speaking, a bit more of a serious tone in your voice.
“You have a look about you. The one I've only seen in heroes who've seen a bit too much or gotten pummeled enough for a lifetime.” Your words hit the nail on the head, as if you had peered right through the shell he had made for himself, especially for the Z-Team. He didn't know how to respond to those words, so close to a soft point he did not know how to verbalize. Robert let the moment pass with his own understanding, hearing your shoes click on the floor.
“Do you have superstrength?” He finally opened his mouth for such a benign comment that he nearly cringed. But you turned with a teasing smile, eyes narrowed upon him.
“Maybe I do. I thought we arranged to only ask about our hero days when we were drunk.”
“Well, I'm tipsy, but not quite drunk. Does that give me a pass?” Robert didn't miss the way that your eyes narrowed, not in an angry way, but one that you often did when he was sarcastic and just enough to make you roll your eyes.
“Nope.” You popped the p-sound in your mouth and laughed, all the sound directed towards him. His chest warmed, and he did the best to ignore the sensation.
“The point is that we are so drunk that we don't remember what we said, and our secret identities remain hidden. Do you remember that?” Robert did his best to recall such an agreement, but turned up nothing in his brain.
“Did we agree to that when we were drunk. . .because I can't seem to remember agreeing to it.” His smirk was easy, and your scoff was even more entertaining. The moments of silence passed by comfortably, winding your way down the halls.
In truth, Robert knew little about your superhero days. He only knew that you were not from Torrence, or perhaps even LA. While you were familiar with the city, he never remembered hearing about a hero with your powers before. He had asked once, and you had answered.
“I needed a fresh start.” Your words over the rim of a cocktail glass hit harder than Robert expected that night.
“A hard reset. Turn-the-computer-off-and-on-again kind of a restart. It worked out. Now I am at SDN and sitting at a bar with you.”
“I hope that it isn’t so bad.”
“No, not in the slightest. I quite like it. . .the job, of course.”
The corridor stretched on in a more pleasant silence as the two of you strolled, Robert’s eyes catching on the door of a storage room. He raised a brow as you turned towards it.
“Does Jerry hide his stash in a random storage closet?” His disbelief was palpable in his voice, and one you answered with a roll of your eyes, gesturing to the door with a dismissive gesture.
“There is a fridge in here, smartass. Back-up fridge for when the main fridge fills up. I can’t believe you didn’t know about it.” Perhaps he would, if he ever brought food to work. Possibly, he would, if he ever thought to make food in advance. Robert allowed a laugh at your words as you turned the knob of the door and entered.
“I think that Blazer hides her stash of special coffee in here sometimes, in all honesty.” He followed after you, slipping in the crack of the door that you left open. You turned your head to him and spoke again, a lighter laugh upon your lips as you spoke,
“Which, if I were the boss, I would do the same. . .” Robert gave his own nod as he slipped in, eyeing the mysterious fridge that he had never heard of before, as you stood in front of it. The darkness of the closet created sharp shadows on your face, even as your eyes glittered from the darkness. The form of you was a distraction as he did not watch his step, a smooth shoe sole sliding on something slick and slippery. Robert felt his balance go from under him, catapulting backwards like something out of a comedy skit, and his shame went with him.
“Fuck!” Your own movement drowned his shout of surprise, launching yourself forward to grab his forearms and pull him in the opposite direction. As the weight of his body landed on his now slick foot, Robert fell forward and towards you. Before he could either flail his arms or push against you to regain his balance, he tumbled forward again. And so Robert found himself smushed on the line of your collarbone, his mouth crushed against the softer flesh of your chest. As skin met skin, he felt the base of his neck flush red, and he yanked his head back, settling his feet level on the ground.
“Jesus, God, I am so sorry. Why is it so slippery in here?” Robert muttered much quicker than he intended, his breath shorter as he lifted his eyes to your own, wide from adrenaline of the near fall. He was a superhero; he shouldn’t tumble over for just some spilled water on the floor. But here he was, stumbling into you like an idiot.
“Are you alright?” Your voice was softer, eyes searching his face for any injury, even though he knew there was none. Old superhero habits die hard, even in the case of a simple fall. But your voice was a warm breath brushed against his lips, tinged with the liquor you had drunk earlier. But you were closer than he had thought, realizing the little distance between his mouth and his own. The sudden sensation of your hands on his biceps made him pause before he could answer. He sucked in a breath, eyes drifting over your face before answering,
“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. You?” His voice was shorter than he intended, his chest heaving as he responded. He hoped you hadn't noticed, but he certainly had. He could always blame the near fall, but he knew the truth.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. God, did Waterboy forget to put out a sign after he washed the floor?” Your neck stretched backward as you tilted your head back in a laugh, and his eyes were languid as they watched the line of the skin and muscles. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to drag his lips against the flesh, worry the skin between his teeth, and see what else would happen. His thoughts left him in silence, and one that he knew he could not blame on only a couple of beers, but something that lingered much longer in his blood.
When your eyes met his again, Robert could not even begin to hide the heat that lay in his own gaze as he flicked between the curve of your lips, the beginning of a flush in your cheeks, and the arch of your brows as they softened.
“Admittedly, I can’t quite blame him based on the position I am now in.” His voice was rough, nerves still prickling under his skin despite the lazy smirk that appeared on his face. Your laugh was a rumble that he nearly felt against his own skin.
“Robert, you have to say that was a terrible line.” For a moment, he felt himself tense, foreseeing an awkward apology, a walk of shame from the SDN building, and the inevitable HR meeting in the coming days. But as he found the fondness in your gaze, the same heat bleeding from your gaze, the nerves slowly began to disappear.
“Probably. Is it working?”
“Yeah, yeah, it is.” After the whisper of the words against his lips, you surged forward to press your lips against his own, using the strength of your arms to pull him firmly against the line of your body as your back bumped into the refrigerator door. Whatever idea Robert had of SDN and HR melted away, focused on the sensation of your lips, looking to devour whatever coherent thought he had. Whatever went on in his head was instead directed elsewhere in his body as your tongue licked between his lips and traced the curve of his teeth. It left him breathless as you continued, and as he eventually pulled away to take suck in a shallow gasp of air, he noted that you were the same.
“You know, I really thought that I would take you out to dinner. . .” His voice paused as your lips found the hinge of his jaw and began to trail down the side of his neck.
“. . .Be-before we got to this.” Robert felt your chuckle against his skin and the goosebumps that rose in response. The shape of your smile would endear him, but the emotion changed as your teeth nipped at the flesh laid out before you. A shaky exhale left him at the action, his hands sliding to your waist to grip there, half to feel you as well as steady himself.
“I thought after how many drinks we’ve bought for each other, you would have already done this.” Your voice was a slow scorch in his ear, the heat of it sliding down his body. He huffed his laugh, raising a hand to slide his fingers into your hair to pull your lips back to his own. The kiss was only what Robert could describe as ‘passionate’, a tangle of lips, tongue, and teeth as he aimed to make up for the time that he had lost out on. His fingers curled through soft strands at the base of your neck, his fingers tightening there. He was rewarded with a gasp, one that he took advantage of to make your own heart stutter as he kissed you senseless, his nose pressing into the crease of your cheek with little care.
Your own hands curled around his neck and pulled him even further into your body and the soft skin he found there. The hand on your waist traveled upwards, fingers curling into the fabric that had so entranced him in the hours before when he arrived. However, what he sought was what lay underneath the clothes, the peeks of skin Robert had seen but never touched. The warmth there was intoxicating, and he pressed his fingertips into the shape of your ribcage, rising higher and higher. You shivered, and Robert soaked in the movement as he continued to kiss you.
“This feels like an HR violation.” Robert pulled back to mutter the words and felt your laughter under his fingers, lighting his chest with warmth as you looked back at him. The smile on your face was pleased, lips a rosy shade from his own, and eyes lidded.
“It is. Page 408, actually.” This time, Robert kissed over the jut of your chin and moved down further to worry his teeth over your jugular. His ministrations were not enough to leave marks, but enough to cause your own breath to stutter and your eyelids to slowly drop to enjoy the sensation.
“The fact that you know that is both surprising and not. You do this often?” Robert felt himself laugh as his mouth moved lower and lower, until the fabric stopped his wandering mouth. For once, he wished for the blue button-up of the SDN uniform so he wouldn't be faced with such a dilemma. Even more so as your hands slid into his own hair, tugging at the strands there.
“No, no. I have just been to enough training modules where they strongly. . .” Your voice wavered as Robert bunched the fabric by the hem to kiss where he longed to, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your chest. The pain of the mark that Robert began to leave was sweet, an arch of your spine that he felt his fingers trace. The gasp from your lips was even sweeter, a sound that went straight to a mind bank that he only visited in the dark of the night when he felt especially lonely. Robert felt his pants tighten at the sound alone.
“Strongly discourage interpersonal relationships between SDN employees.” You at last finished the sentence as he sucked a different mark into your chest, matching another mark parallel to the one he had made earlier.
“And, you’re ignoring their discouragement?” Robert’s voice was low, a scrap of a sound as he flicked his eyes upwards, studying the rosy flush to your cheeks and the slow drag of your gaze to his own below you.
“Ignore is too strong a w-word. . .” Your voice turned to a waver as he pulled further at fabric, seeking more sensitive flesh with his lips and teeth. His mouth closed around your nipple, and your sigh at the touch made a pleasant hum fill the space between Robert’s ears. His tongue flicked around the bud with eagerness, cataloging each one of your responses in a bank in his brain that he did not know he had.
“I-i, I am good friends with Barb from HR. . .” The words finally emerged from your lips with a strain, the thoughts stringing together with cotton in your mouth.
“Oh?” Robert pulled back from your heaving chest with a grin, watching your eyes come back to focus to finish the statement before it dissolved into nothing but a moan.
“She can. . .overlook. . .certain things if properly convinced.” You laughed after the words, taking the hand in his hair to pull him from his worship to stand straight once more, bowing his neck towards the shape of your lips.
“So you’re relying on the two of us being convincing?” Robert teased, your hand curving fondly over the shape of his misshapen ear as he leaned into the softer touch.
“That.” You pushed at his chest, forcing him away and backwards. Although this time, he did not fall, watching as you kicked out a leg to drag a chair from the shadows of the room. This time, when you pushed at his chest, he fell into the chair with little hesitation. His eyes were wide as he watched you straddle him, hips suddenly pressed hard into his own. Whatever little bit of blood he had left in his brain went straight to his dick as you settled down, the tiniest grind of your hips, the pressure that the animal underneath his skin sought. Without thought, his hands landed on your hips, no doubt encouraging the small movements that caused him to clench his jaw.
“And, and if no one needs to know, we won’t need to worry about violation of HR code, whatever whatever.” Your voice was a whisper, saturated with something rich that caused his own set of goosebumps as you leaned over him once more.
“Fine. . .fine by me.” Robert’s smirk brought your own to your lips, kissing him as a distraction as your own fingers curled underneath the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking the fabric upwards to reveal the bare flesh underneath. Robert removed the sweatshirt without much resistance, tossing it into a distance he did not care to think about in the moment. You admired him with wide eyes, soaking in the sight before with the fractures of light that peeked in from the cracks in the door. Your fingers stroked over the thick scar that curved over his left shoulder, leaning to place a more tender kiss on the more rough flesh. While Robert had little shame at the sight of the scars, the touch felt foreign to him. But coming from you, it did not feel so strange.
But as your kisses moved away from the scars and to the point between his shoulder and neck, sinking your teeth into the muscles there, Robert could not hide the groan and his tightening hold upon the breadth of your hips. His cock strained, his own hips jerking upwards as you soothed the pain with a press of your tongue.
“Fuck. . .” He breathed out, curling his arms around your waist to press into the slot between your spread legs further, curving his neck to allow you more space for lips, tongue, and teeth to sink into him and ruin him. You obliged, a smile curling at your lips as you bite the spot once more. The pain and pleasure compounded as you ground against the hard line of his cock, a different kind of stutter to your breathing as the air hitched in your throat. With that as his encouragement, he allowed himself to grind slowly and deliberately, stuttering when the nip of your teeth short-circuited his brain.
The kisses became messier as time went on, shifting back to his mouth, feeling your breath on his teeth as you moaned, and the strain on your thighs as his grip turned mean in accordance with the jerk of his hips. He could feel the heat between your thighs through the rough layers of his pants, the desperation seeping into both of your movements as the moments passed.
“Robert. . .” Your voice curled around his name, set a bolt of pleasure in his brain. For a second, he didn’t know how he was going to recover from this exchange. To leave the storage closet, go back to the party, and come back to work on Monday, without pretending to know you as he did now in the day-to-day. To understand how your mouth shaped around the sound of his name, tucked between moans and rushed breaths, and not think of it in any given moment.
“Yeah?” His own voice was breathless, rough as gravel as he spoke into the hollow of your throat.
“We don’t have much time. . .” Instinctively, he placed a scorching kiss to your skin, laving his tongue upon the spot as you swallowed another sound. He hummed at your words, not stopping his tongue as you spoke again.
“And I don’t want to end this as it is now. I want more.” Robert felt the want in your voice with not a drop of hesitation, as you spoke to him. Your movement matched your words, a particularly devastating grind against him that caused both of you to groan.
“I can work with that.” At his words, you pulled him into a kiss once more, devouring him whole with each touch and kiss. Robert was past the point of doom, with each pass of your tongue against his, dragging him further and further down. Eventually, you pulled away much to his own chagrin, shimmying out of the clothes that hung from your hips. While you did not intend it as a show, Robert could not drag his eyes away from the sight, no matter how dimmed the room was. His eyes drank you in as you stood before him, admiring his own stance in the chair with his legs spread and his face flushed. Robert did not miss the way your own gaze dragged across the line of his cock, swallowing as you looked back to his face.
“Another time.” Robert raised his brow at the suggestion. You, on your knees before him with a heated look in your eyes and the curve of your lips so close to the tip of his cock. That was a mental image he would have seared into his mind for the rest of his days.
“I can wait for that.” His voice was rougher than he thought it was, growing rougher as you moved forward and leaned over him, fingers curling into the loosened knot of his belt and pulling. As you fumbled with the button and the zipper that dragged over the heat of him, he distracted himself by smoothing a hand over the bare skin of your hip, a scar that wrapped from bone to rib cage meeting his fingertips. He traced the scar, nearly reverent in his action. You were softer than any late-night fantasy he ignored in the daylight hours, his grip turning greedy to palm at the flesh further back, feeling your ass form to the shape of his hand. Robert felt you shudder as he did so, fingers stuttering over his zipper.
“You’re not making this easy, Robert.” Your voice was half a tease, narrowing your eyes at him in the darkness of the small room. He couldn’t help but smirk once more, his hand retreating from your ass to instead slip between your legs. There was no resistance as fingers swept through the wet folds there, the gasp on your lips like a siren song that only made his blood bump faster.
“Fuck.” Robert felt his own sanity starting to slip as you moaned at the sensation. His fingers swirled over your opening, feeling the wetness that gathered over his fingertips before sliding his thumb to brush ever so gently over the ridge of your clit. Your reaction was instantaneous, a shudder that sent your fingers to a tight curl into the fabric of his pants and a jerk of your hips that nearly had his mouth watering. Your moan warmed his lips as you kissed him, messy and broken as he continued to circle the nub. Eventually, he pulled away from the kiss, keeping his fingers in a repetitive motion.
“Okay, okay, you can do that another time.” You pushed his hand from between your thighs with a huff, and Robert laughed. But his laughter died in his throat as your hand pressed against the heat straining between his legs, firm and insistent. Your fingers curled into the front of his briefs and brought him forth, fingers encircling him and loosely moving up and down. His hips jerked forward into your hands, and he choked on a groan at the sensation. Robert lost himself to the feeling, once again better than anything he could imagine as he threw his head back and closed his eyes.
“When we’re not in a SDN closet, I am going to get all these clothes off you and do this with no holds barred.” Your voice was wicked, plush and warm as you leaned forward to whisper into his ear. He merely jerked further into the warmth of your hand, sighing.
“Fi-fine by me.” You laughed at his broken tone, even the kiss you placed on his cheek far too passionate to be chaste. You reared back as your thumb swirled around the head of his cock, the pre-cum dripping from the tip making the action smooth and all the more devastating. Robert nearly bit his tongue, and his head jerked straight again, sparks of heat crawling up the bottom of his spine. Your smirk was a delightfully cruel one, especially as you released him, his cock bopping towards his stomach. Robert raised his eyes to yours as you brushed your thumb over his reddened lips, feeling his lips part to welcome the digit with a groan low in his throat. His tongue was immediately met by his own taste, and he instinctively swirled his tongue around your thumb. The act was filthy, but it made your pupils turn to black voids that consumed him whole. Eventually, you pulled your hand back, chest heaving as you took him in and gestured to him.
“You. . .stay right there.” Robert watched as you dug in the pile of your clothing until you fished out the square packet of a condom. He huffed a laugh as he palmed his dick, watching as you ripped it open. You rolled your eyes at him before answering.
“Something something about us sharing however many drinks and longing glances had me prepared.” Your voice was once more dripping with sarcasm, but also all fond that even made his chest tighten despite all that was happening before him. You reached forward to slide the condom over him, his chest shuddering as you did so.
“Let it b-be known that I-I am not complaining one bit.” Robert resisted rolling his eyes back into his skull as the warmth of your head rushed over his cock once more. Your answer was a low murmur of assent, releasing him to straddle and hover over him. At last, you guided him to your entrance, and he sank into your warmth with ease. As he filled you slowly, you chewed on your lip, eyelids fluttering as you settled at the base of his cock. Robert’s hands flew to your hips, thumbs digging into flesh and bone as he fought to either pull you further towards him or away. The heat licked up his spine with a burning speed, although neither of you had even moved. It had been a long time since he had slept with anyone, but the pleasure rushed over him like a tidal wave that he could only drown in.
And as you planted your feet and began to ground your hips, rising until he nearly slipped out from within you, Robert knew he was doomed in multiple directions. You set a pace of the same slow movement, a build that set both of your bodies on fire. He had you set the pace, lidded eyes watching as your muscles strained and worked, quiet moans ushering from your lips with each grind on his cock. The flush crawled down from your neck to your chest, and his eyes followed it back to the blissed out look on your face, eyebrows furrowed as you surrendered to the feeling of his dick working inside of you, slick and providing the friction that set the two of you to further and further satisfaction. Whatever words he wanted to say had long left him, dragging a hand from your hips to the back of your neck to pull you into a thoroughly desperate kiss as he licked into your mouth.
As your tongues battled for dominance, Robert allowed his hands to grip your hips and dig, fucking his hips back into yours. The pace was reset, brutal and earthshattering as he hit a spot within you that caused an unbidden moan to burst out of you. The pressure around his cock became a vice as he narrowed in on that spot. You broke the kiss to breathe hard, back arched towards him to grind back on him as the sweat gathered on the base of your spine.
“That it?” Robert’s voice was a ruin of a sound in your ear, and you gave him a furious nod. Your hand left its vice grip on his shoulder and worked its way downward, fingers eagerly circling your clit as he thrusted into the warmth within you. The pleasure was spiraling into a pinpoint for the two of you, a cycle that each movement built higher and higher. You were tensing, and his own thrusts were turning messy as he chased the sharp line of pleasure as it cut through him.
Your own fingers, along with the thickness of his cock sent you over the edge, a clench down upon him that was a vice grip. You arched your back, tensing from your thighs and upward, a bitten back moan as you found your release and locked down upon him. Robert watched in slight awe, before driving forward into you to keep the pleasure a lasting high. And as he did so, the pleasure sparked into a roaring flame, and he came in rough spurts within you. This time, Robert’s eyes rolled back into his head as you both rode the waves of ecstasy until sensitivity took hold.
“Jesus fuck.” Out of all words that he could say after such an earth-shattering fuck, those were the most poetic he could muster, tipping his head towards your own to gaze fondly at you above him. You were once again his downfall, mussed hair, reddened lips, and eyes dripping with satisfaction as your muscles loosened. As he stared unabashedly, you laughed, coming to cradle his jaw with your hands to brush your lips against his. At first, it was chaste, but it grew, languid strokes of his tongue against your own as he drank in your taste with a hand stroking the scar at your hip. But you pulled away, a laugh on your lips as you gazed down at him.
“Alright, alright. We really ought to get back.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Robert instinctively brushed a hand through your hair, your cheek leaning into his palm, before you slipped off him. The shudder that went through him was the last dredge of pleasure, sinking into the depths of his consciousness. He pulled off the condom and tied it as you slipped your clothes back on. It was all slow movement as the two of you gathered yourself. But your movements stopped as Robert rose to his feet, hands curled around the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull it to his eye level. His eyes widened at the stain of water spreading across the back of the sweatshirt, making it obvious even in the darkness of the tiny room.
“Well, shit. Is speed-drying a superpower of yours?” His shoulders slumped as he looked. He should have watched where his shirt got tossed, right into the offending puddle that had nearly put him on his ass.
“No, but you could always say that you slipped in the puddle?” Robert laughed, a small self-diminishing one as he took the sweatshirt from your hands, staring down at the stain with a glare.
“It isn’t quite a lie?” You offered the words with a raised brow, the corners of your lips upturned as you made yourself look proper despite the thorough fucking you both had just enacted. He could not say the same about himself, hair askew and small marks littering his shoulders and lower neck. Robert offered a half-way nod and pulled the sweatshirt over his head.
“I’ll go to the lockers and get my even worse-looking sweatshirt. Hopefully that won’t be suspicious.” Robert knew immediately that it would not be the truth, as the Z-Team could suss out something suspicious about him within moments of just looking at him. He was screwed there. You leaned back from opening the fridge, leaving two cases of beer on the floor before reaching in to grab two more cases of flavored seltzers to hold under your arms. Oh yes, what you two had actually come to this desolate closet for.
“Buy me a drink after this and take me home?” Your voice brought Robert back to the present, a teasing smile on your lips as you opened the door with a straining hand. Robert’s grimace turned to a softer look as he looked at you. Out of all the things, that kind of fond look upon your face put the last nail in the coffin of his heart, not that Robert would honestly want anything else.
“That I can do.”