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“It's gonna be a one-man party for me tonight.”
“Boo, Robert, you fucking suck.”
Malevola's voice is accentuated with its usual exaggerated cadence as she leans her weight against the break room table, baiting her dispatcher, but it doesn't sway Robert in the slightest. New Year’s Eve is tonight, and he is happy to have nothing to do.
No stupid, very avoidable HR violations. No parties where someone gets much too drunk, much too quickly, and vomits in the punch bowl at midnight in lieu of stealing a kiss from their favorite one-night-stand. No midnight kiss from someone he actually liked. Just shitty whiskey, his dog, and Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve playing in the background while passing out at 10:30PM.
“Well I’m getting fucked-up tonight.” Prism’s voice, confident as ever, booms through as she throws an arm around the devil-hero. “Guess who’s off probation?”
Visi sneers at that, chiming, “You actually off probation, or did you just make that up?”
“Bitch? What are you, a cop?”
“I, too, am participating in New Year’s festivities,” Phenomaman cuts in, stepping close to Robert like a dog to its owner, “SDN hosts an event with representatives from each branch to celebrate the holiday with speeches about our achievements throughout the year.”
“That also sounds boring as fuck,” Malevola jeers.
“Yeah, maybe you should take Robert,” Visi adds, “two boring assholes and a boring New Year's party. Not like you’re taking Blonde, right?”
“Be fucking nice,” Robert hisses, brows knitting into a scowl.
“What? I’m basically hooking him up with a rebound date. You’re fucking welcome, by the way.”
“The mean one makes a good point,” Phenomaman says, “this would be the first time I’d attend without Blonde Blazer.”
“See? A real hero doesn't shy away from the truth, or whatever.” With that, Visi snags a chip out of the bag Robert had brought for lunch, popping it in her mouth as she wanders toward the door. “I’m out. See you next year, loser.”
Robert rolls his eyes, catching the hint of a sneer from his coworker before she exits the break room, followed closely by Prism and Malevola in suit. Of course, the ex-villians of the Phoenix Program would be the ones to judge the thought of a peaceful holiday so harshly, as if their raucousness wasn’t what ended them up in a court-mandated villain rehab in the first place.
Still, he knows better than Phenomaman not to let the playful mocking get to him, even though the mention of the word “date” stirred something within him that he didn’t want to think about right now.
“Perhaps she is right,” Phenomaman says, eyes trailing Visi as she leaves the room, “my invitation despite my removal from the downtown branch feels a little piteous, does it not?”
Robert shakes his head of the thought. “You can’t take anything Visi says to heart. She’s just like that.”
“Perhaps, but even so…” He looks wistful, perhaps a little sad. “Admittedly, I have felt less inclined to attend. While I still maintain a friendship with Blonde— Mandy, I see little point in going otherwise alone.”
“I see.” Robert pops a chip in his mouth, shrugging. “Then don’t go.”
Phenomaman blinks, staring like he’d just heard something shocking.
“But… I was invited.”
“So was I,” he admits, “still not going. I get sore and exhausted too easily to pretend to like this shit.” He turns around, placing a hand on Phenomaman’s shoulder at some attempt of comfort. “You don’t have to go just because you were invited.”
“But what would I do instead?”
“Hang out with people you like. Or go play Magic at the board game cafe. I dunno, whatever you want.”
Phenomaman nods slowly at that, taking a moment to look off into the distance. He’s quiet for a moment, ruminating— Robert had a knack for doing that to people, making them think. Especially the alien-hero himself, who’d been steadily making progress on his own understanding of the world around him.
Just then, something brightens in his expression, like a light going off in his head. “I see. Thank you, Robert.”
“You’re, uh, welcome, Phen.”
Robert’s not sure what he’s being thanked for, but decides to think nothing of it. The chill of December creeps through the crowded room, and somewhere out there is a clock ticking down the seconds to the end of the year.
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There’s a sense of tranquility that washes over Robert once he’s settled in his own home, ready to make absolutely nothing special of the night.
Cheap whiskey burns something awful as it hits his throat and warms his body when it settles in his stomach. As the wintry evening climbs closer to its precipice, he can feel the radiators in his apartment working their magic in tandem, replacing the bitter cold with a warm, rolling steam. He takes a seat in front of the TV, clicking it on.
There are already fireworks crackling, barely audible beyond the closed windows, though he can see a few of the streams of colorful lights peeking through the slits in his shudders. Robert’s mind wanders to Visi, intent on getting wasted with a crowd of her friends for the night and causing trouble for anyone unfortunate enough to be her neighbor. He chuckles to himself imagining her lighting up those fireworks, setting something or someone on fire in the process.
In another world, it could be fun hanging streamers in someone's much nicer, much bigger house while watching the ball drop at midnight, but all of that seems so exhausting in retrospect. In its place, he’ll have a boring night, maybe, but a peaceful one. One that doesn’t end in burning buildings or people.
Thonk. Thonk.
It is then that, without warning, someone knocks at his door as loud as they possibly could. So much for a peaceful night.
The softness of the fireworks outside only accentuates just how jarring the intrusive noise is, firm and booming. Robert’s eyes shoot toward the front of his apartment where he can see the shadow of shoes in the gap at the foot of his door.
Of course, Beef is the first to react, acting as protective as an overweight, beachball-sized dog can. He runs out from the bedroom, barking as he plods over faster than his short little legs can take him. Robert follows cautiously, bracing himself like a hero approaching a seedy villain spot; for all he knows, those shoes on the other side of the door could be a crook who had it out for him, or even Flambae, determined to deliver another nose-shattering punch.
That caution, however, turns to confusion when he cracks open the door to see Phenomaman standing in the hallway there, poised and present. He’s carrying a massive paper gift bag, detailed with multicolored stars and foil printed lettering that says ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR’ in a bold, silvery font.
Robert swings the door open, relieved yet barely grasping onto his own cognizance. “Phen—”
“Hello, Robert! Please, outside of work, you may call me by my name of Katon-Ur. I am here to turn this one-man party into a two-man party!”
Before Robert gets a chance to stomach that statement, Katon-Ur shoves the massive gift bag towards his chest, a posteresque grin plastered across his face like he thinks he’s supposed to be there. He’s dressed differently, too, prepared for some special occasion, sporting a rather snug baby-pink button-up and tailored slacks in lieu of his usual blue and red superhero spandex.
It’s a massive contrast to Robert’s oversized lounge shirt and sweatpants, of which he suddenly feels rather subconscious.
“Phen— Katon-Ur—” The name feels strange, but he’s intent on remembering it, “Why are you here?”
“I took your advice,” Katon-Ur says, his voice laced with all of the cheer of someone who’d just discovered the secret to happiness, “I decided I would spend my New Years Eve with people whose company I enjoy, rather than at my usual SDN sponsored consortium.”
Robert blinks, his heart jumping at the candidness of that admission. He’s silent as he grapples with the duality of having his quiet, lonesome night upended by SDN’s most oblivious fallen princess, and hearing that Katon-Ur chose him in place of a nice party, all because he enjoys his company.
Something warm blooms in his chest when he considers it, a feeling he immediately bites back, blaming the negligible bit of alcohol he’d already had.
“So, where shall I set my items?”
Katon-Ur peers into the room behind him, fingers tapping eagerly together. He very obviously seems to think there’s nothing wrong with being here, completely unaware of the fact that his coworker is not dressed for the occasion, much less prepared for it. Still, he doesn’t seem to mind, and if that’s the case, then neither does Robert.
“...On the couch is fine,” Robert says, deciding that thinking too hard about it isn’t worth the effort, and that he doesn’t have the heart to deny his lonely friend some company for the night.
Katon-Ur smiles, placing his shoes at the door before wandering inside. It’s funny, in a sense, seeing his large frame traverse around the house, empty as it is, more excited there than he’d usually seemed at work. When Robert closes the door behind him, Beef shuffles off to sniff the new guest before crawling back into a pile of laundry in Robert’s room to resume his nap.
The gift bag is still in Robert's hands as he settles back in— his expression doesn’t change from confusion as he pulls out sheets of tissue paper, looking inside. He doesn’t know what to say when he sees the fluffy, grey fleece blanket folded neatly there, its tag still attached and hanging out over the top.
“That’s… a blanket.” He blinks slowly, pulling it out to get a better look. A small pocket on the side contains a plastic controller, its buttons listing an array of temperature settings. “A heated blanket?”
“Correct. I purchased this because you mentioned that you were too sore for excessive and unnecessary physical activity during this holiday. According to my research, this is one of many methods of relief for such ailments.”
Oh.
Robert can feel a blush crawling onto his cheeks, humbled. He can’t recall the last time someone had offered such a thoughtful gesture, much less one that kept his chronic pain particularly in mind. Any semblance of annoyance he’d previously felt about the sudden social intrusion began to melt away alongside his apprehension. His eyes dart up to meet Katon-Ur’s.
“Research… huh,” is all he can manage, thoughts swirling. “Thank you.”
“Of course! Now,” he eyes the smaller man expectantly, “what does one do for a one-man, New Year’s Eve party?”
It is at that moment that Robert is suddenly hit with the fact that Katon-ur actually has no idea what’s going on. He has to hold back a laugh.
“Phen, that really was just a figure of speech. This isn’t a party,” he says.
“Oh, really? My sincere apologies.” His colorless tone belies a subtle pang of embarrassment. “It seems I have again misinterpreted a human phenomenon. I feel rather silly for coming here now.”
“Eh, well, you’re here. How about we start off with a drink?”
Despite his nonchalance, Robert offers him a smile, happy to pivot the conversation back around. He stumbles into the kitchen for a moment, pouring himself another glass of whiskey and one for his guest, offering it before taking a seat on his own couch. Katon-Ur merely eyes the drink at first, staring into it like an omen.
He looks pensive again, just as he had in the breakroom earlier. There’s a cycle of rumination blossoming there, Robert can tell— about not understanding all those little human things, about interrupting someone's alone time, about being odd.
He is odd, sure. But so is Robert.
“Booze, dancing, fireworks. Those are what we usually do.” Robert interrupts whatever thoughts are plaguing his mind, throwing back the rest of his shot. “We’ll share our resolutions and then count down to midnight. How’s that for a two-man party?”
Katon-Ur’s mood seems to perk up at that. “Yes, Robert. If you say it is so.” He brings the glass up to his nose, cringing at the scent before looking at Robert like he absolutely did not want to put that in his body.
“It's pretty bad," Robert reassures, "Got it from the clearance aisle at Ralph’s.”
“That sounds… unpleasant. But I will partake.”
Robert chuckles, stumbling tipsily over to the couch to snag his phone. If they’re gonna dance, they need music, and Robert has plenty of playlists to set through the night. He stops on one, something upbeat to match the lucid energy of booze and happy company, and saunters over to his companion with a grin as it plays.
“I see,” Katon-Ur says, “so this is what you listen to.”
A smirk. “Got a problem with it? ”
Katon-Ur shakes his head, knocking back his own glass of whiskey and the ice, too. He looks at Robert expectantly, hand outreached, ready to take the lead.
“Alright, then Robert Robertson. May I have this dance?”
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Robert obliges Katon-Ur’s request to dance for much longer than he’d like to admit.
He chokes another shot down as he moves, feeding his buzz-induced stupor. The combination of alcohol gnawing at the edges of his baser inhibitions and Katon-Ur’s genuine attempt at dancing has him laughing fully from the heart, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The taller man spins him, taking him into strong arms and lifting him off the ground with the ease of a small animal, tilting him in uncoordinated directions only to lift him back flush with his chest moments later. His feet tap off beat, rhythmless, though it’s not like Robert is faring any better. Even sober, he couldn’t look good dancing if he tried.
Oh, but he’s having fun. So much fun. He’d forgotten, at this point, the isolation he had set out to experience in the first place.
Katon-Ur performs another of many twirls on Robert, who falls against him in the middle of the act, mind and body buzzing with the effects of cheap whiskey. He decides then that, despite the genuine fun he’s having, he’d have to cut himself off for the night if he wanted to keep his stomach contents intact.
“How are my moves, as they say?” The grin that accompanies that question is wonderfully sweet.
“Heh. Pretty awful. You learn ‘em from a movie?”
“In fact, I did!”
That pulls a laugh out of Robert, in spite of his exhaustion. Katon-Ur seems to recognize this fatigue, because he opts just to sway for the moment, holding the smaller man stable with his strong arms.
He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol biting at his consciousness, or a genuine part inside of him that yearned to be held, but when he slumps against Katon-Ur’s chest, falling into a gentle sway of the music, he feels safe. His presence is a comfort that Robert admittedly wouldn’t have had if he’d denied himself luxury of company like he’d planned to do just hours before.
Perhaps, in a sense, he never actually wanted to be alone tonight. Perhaps what he needed was somebody willing to move at his pace.
“Robert…” Katon-Ur’s voice is low, rumbling deep against Robert’s upper body. “Now we must state our aspirations for the upcoming solar cycle. That is the next part of this celebration.”
Robert hums in response. “Okay. What are yours?”
“It is strange. Last year, I wished to defend the universe until the end of my time. I still want that, but… these past few months have given me clearer goals.”
Katon-ur pauses, obviously contemplating something. His voice goes soft, unfeigned.
“This time, I wish to have new experiences on earth and make it truly feel like home for me. To understand what it is like to be equal among humans, and to experience all of the things that make the people of this planet so intent on living happily.”
Robert can’ t help but smile. “I like that one.”
“I am glad you say so, because you in particular have helped me realise it as such. You are my dearest friend and confidant, Robert.”
That statement strikes him like a star in the night. Katon-Ur had always had a habit of cutting right through the bullshit and going straight for Robert’s heart. If he wants to know happiness, he’s right on track.
“Alright,” Katon-Ur continues, “now you must share yours.”
Robert shrugs, feeling some level of discomfort at the prospect of being in the spotlight now, putting his heart out there like that. His baser instinct is to feign apathy. “I dunno. Guess I wanna be the best dispatcher I can be.”
But Katon-Ur gives him a look, somewhere between confusion and disappointment, his blue eyes intent on boring deeper. Only then does Robert shake his head, burning back his compulsive lack of sincerity to elaborate further.
“What I mean is… I wanna be the best leader for my team. Guess that means fighting my own demons, too.”
“I presume you don’t mean the likes of our devilish companion?”
“Funny. But, no.” He puts a hand to his heart, feeling the bumps of his own ragged skin beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. “Emotional demons. Gotta take my own advice, and stop pushing stuff down. Start saying what I want.”
It’s perhaps the most elementary way he could have explained that, but Katon-Ur nods his head, seeming to understand.
“I see. It is admirable how even in the context of personal growth, your resolve is tied to your desire to help others.”
“Well, so is yours. Guess we’re both kinda lame.”
Katon-Ur chuckles. “I am happy we are.”
As the night steadily crawls towards its end, so too does Robert’s inebriation, the last effects of his paltry indulgence of alcohol fading away. Earlier in the day, he’d expected to have fallen asleep by now, splayed across his couch with a remote in hand and Beef sleeping peacefully at his feet. Instead, his dog has made a home out of a pile of laundry in his bedroom, and Robert is here, swaying gently in his living room with a public-broadcast timer on his television, soaking in the company of the one person who’d chosen him to spend the final hours of the year with.
And god, he is still swaying, still half-dancing. He can’t even blame the alcohol at this point. When Robert turns his head towards the flatscreen, hiding his own burgeoning and uncomfortable late-night feelings, he notices the minutes on the TV timer ticking steadily downwards into the single digits.
It’s almost time.
“Katon-Ur.”
The alien-hero turns his attention to the man beside him wordlessly.
“We’re down to a couple minutes left, but we’ll start counting at ten seconds. You ready for the crux of the evening, big guy?”
Katon-Ur nods his head, gazing somewhat longingly at the little flatscreen. He has that wistful look in his eyes, the kind that he gets when he’s feeling sentimental, or really wants to play Magic the Gathering, which are admittedly very similar in intensity. Robert chuckles at the thought, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Something on your mind?” Robert asks.
“Yes, many things.” Katon-Ur’s eyes snap back to Robert, glimmering in the starry haze of the night. “I am thinking of how this is perhaps the most fulfilling holiday I have spent in a long time.”
“That’s sad, Katon-Ur.” Robert laughs to cover the feeling of pity that claws at his heart. “If this is the best you've got, you must’ve had some awful New Years’.”
“Not at all. I have had phenomenal holidays before this, to be sure. And yet…”
Something changes in his voice, then.
“Your company makes up for everything that those times lacked. It is fulfilling because I am with you.”
The timer on the TV counts down to seconds now, it’s artificial ticking no match for the beat of two fervent hearts.
Something burns within Robert, and he finally knows what it is. Affection, attraction, compassion, all clawing their way through his heart to bring him the starstruck feeling he’d been chasing since the night had begun: Sincerity.
He doesn’t respond to that, and he doesn’t feel as though he has to. Instead, he takes a hold of Katon-Ur’s hand, offering a gentle smile, and readies himself for the countdown.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Robert silently braces himself against his taller companion, already anticipating the bull-rush of fireworks cracking across the skies of L.A. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he’d felt Katon-Ur’s heart beat faster with excitement.
“Six, five…” Katon-Ur turns towards him, and Robert follows, looking up through disheveled strands of tawny hair to catch the faintest glint in his eyes. He searches for something in them as he counts, perhaps hope, or yearning, and by the time he finds it, he’s already closer than he’d realised.
“Four, three…” There’s a hair's length between them now, a magnetic pull closing the space between them just as the earth closes its orbit about the sun.
“Two…”
Robert trails off, both unwilling and unable to get to the final number as he feels Katon-Ur’s shaky hands hold him tighter, the unkempt hairs on his mustache brushing against his top lip as he pulls him in for a kiss. At first, he expects it to be chaste, over as soon as it had started. But when those hands graze down from his waist to his hips, and he feels the soft movement of lips against his own, Robert senses that the moment is intent on being far longer. Any of his previous inhibitions are washed away with the adrenaline chase of affection.
Dozens of fireworks crash outside of the window, their blaring presence a mark of many new beginnings. Katon-Ur’s hold of Robert’s body is gentle and warm, the expanse of his chest pressed against him in a cozy embrace that seems to mold against him perfectly. His neck is craned downwards as he kisses Robert, fully overtaking him, and in return the smaller man holds his shoulders, pulling himself upwards, returning the effort with just as much enthusiasm. He could feel his own heart pattering against Katon-Ur’s chest.
Robert’s tongue prods at swollen lips in some act of desperation, and the barely-stifled sound that escapes Katon-Ur’s mouth is enough to encourage the act. His hands graze across Katon-Ur’s torso, feeling the shape of his body underneath that cotton shirt, mapping it like an astronomer to the night sky. His body moves faster than his mind, something in the realm of arousal and unspoken feelings churning themselves within his body.
Midnight has passed, and both men know that this has become much more than just some New Year's kiss.
Katon-Ur is the first to pull away, still holding Robert rather close to him as if he’s scared to let him go. His breath and his intentions swirl together, hanging heavy in the air.
“Your heart,” he says, barely above a whisper, “its rhythm has increased several beats per minute, and your blood has rushed to the capillaries of your face.”
Robert stifles a laugh at the irony of that response, noticing that Katon-Ur is just as flustered, his hands still trembling as they hold Robert with a softness that would normally seem impossible for someone of his size and strength. He considers, for a moment, lying and saying that it’s just the alcohol, but even in his haze of confusing feelings and slinking insecurities he is reminded of the words that they’d shared just moments earlier, their potency plaguing his consciousness.
‘I want to be the best leader for my team. Guess that means fighting my own demons, too.’
His voice trembles like his throat is coiled with the rawness of his own sincerity.
“I’m like that because you are holding me like this,” he starts, allowing his further confession to escape his lips without biting it back, “and I really don’t want you to let go.”
Katon Ur seems stunned at that confession, his usual composed expression faltering in a way only Robert can see. The smaller man can feel his hands gripping him tighter as a response to his spoken desire, or perhaps as a reaction to his own shared feelings.
“I see,” he says, “I too, do not wish to let you go.”
“I gathered that. You were kissing me like you needed it to live.” The barest of laughs escapes Robert’s lips, internally trading some of that uncomfortable sincerity for his usual jeering. A gift to himself for being so brave. “Almost like it was the highlight of your night.”
“I— I promise, my effort to spend time doing New Year’s activities with you was sincere. But when we were dancing, I felt a strong pull within my soul to show you affection. I cannot describe it, it just… it felt…”
“It felt right, huh?”
Katon-Ur nods, his brows knitted.
Robert’s heart swells. “Look at you, minutes past the new year and you’re already crashing headfirst into your resolution. Learning how to experience all of those stupid, human experiences. So proud of you, Katon-Ur.”
“Thank you, Robert.”
Katon-Ur mumbles something, drowned out by the crackling commotion outside, his eyes darting to the side to avoid Robert’s almond gaze. The space that surrounds them feels fragile as glass for just a moment, vibrating with the possibilities of the night and their ever-renewing feelings, the shared vulnerability tugging at the edges of their consciousness. Robert considers asking him to repeat himself in that moment, but the alien-hero’s eyes meet his again, fixed and unwavering.
“I do not wish for this night to end,” he says, expectation apparent in his gaze, “I do not wish to leave this party, or lack thereof.”
“Then don’t.”
Gathering all of the resolve he’d saved for himself that night, Robert cranes his neck up again, breathing against Katon-Ur’s jaw as he brings his voice down to a low, crooning timbre.
“Kiss me again, instead, and make the night last.”
A booming firework crashes overhead, shaking the room with its intensity, and Katon-Ur finds himself pressing his lips against Robert’s again in its wake.
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It feels different this time.
Hands and lips catch on the tackiness of sweat-licked skin. Florid blush crawls down from freckled cheeks to freckled shoulders. Legs tangle, arms hold, and kisses ravage the thought of breath altogether. If one asked how Robert and Katon-Ur had gotten like this, outspread across Robert’s couch on New Year’s day, they wouldn’t be able to say, and it wouldn’t matter.
Katon-Ur’s chest is much more accessible like this, just past the buttons of his dusky pink shirt. Robert pulls it open with ease, desperate to chart the expanse of his body like stars in the night, to make marks that would fade just as night fades to morning. He peppers kisses there, burying his face momentarily in the thatch of hair between two muscular pecs as the larger man makes quick work of Robert’s oversized shirt in tandem.
He pauses when he tears it off, running calloused fingers across dozens of ragged scars that had painted themselves across Robert's body over the years. The dispatcher shivers, both embarrassed and enamored at the sudden attention towards his form, but he allows Katon-Ur to stare as long as his heart desires.
“I’ve noticed before and again now that you are covered in marks. How fascinating.” He traces another, lingering. “Do they not hurt?”
“Sometimes, not as much as before though. It’s manageable. I’ve been through a lot over these years.”
“I see. A mark for each life you’ve saved.” He brings Robert’s hand up to his lips, kissing it tenderly before bringing him to straddle his lap. “I find it so alluring. I hope you do not mind my beguilement.”
Robert shudders, feeling the sparks caused by gentle grazes to his skin. “Not at all. Just keep touching me like this.”
Katon-Ur obliges. The pads of his fingers are soft, grazing over the notches in Robert’s stomach and torso as they trail down to his waistband. Robert places a hand to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in the mess of auburn hair to pull him down for another kiss. He uses the other hand to grasp at the soft flesh of his body.
Katon-Ur could be rough, if he wanted to, ravenous even. Instead, he is intentional with his touches, treating Robert’s form like a precious object. He does his best to remove Robert’s sweatpants and boxers sightlessly, though the smaller man has to help— Their teeth click messily together as they grow more uncoordinated with their kiss, focusing most of their attention on the arousal growing between them.
The act garners the barest of chuckles from Robert, who uses his other hand to thumb over one of Katon-Ur’s nipples as he speaks against soft lips, “Still kissing me like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Robert, I—” He cuts himself off with a moan that escapes his mouth at the stimulation. He runs a hand up Robert’s back. “I don’t know what comes over me. I desire your touch, in whatever way you’ll allow it.”
“Well, I could kiss you here,” he croons, running a finger down to Katon-Ur’s neck before placing a kiss there, “Or here.” He trails downward, marking his collarbone next, feeling him shiver against his skin. The sounds that follow are more intoxicating than any whiskey.
“Yes, Robert.” His statements begin to sound more and more like pleas. “Just like this.”
Robert continues to kiss down his abdomen, peppering them across his chest and belly, the soft thatches of hair tickling his nose. The scent of arousal grows heady and strong as he reaches the hem of Katon-Ur’s slacks, placing a final kiss to the pouch of flesh beneath his belly button before setting gentle teeth at the zipper.
Katon-Ur looks bewildered as Robert unzips him with his teeth. The tip of his chin grazes against his sex, pulling a soft noise out of him with the stimulation— He palms at the bulge there, feeling his anemone-like alien genitals twitch and pulse underneath the restraining fabric.
“Wait,” Robert says suddenly, drawing his hands back, “Take your bottoms off, I want to try something.”
He catches a hint of a whine from his partner as he shuffles off of him for a moment, reaching into the couchside table for the bottle of lube he’d acquired in direct preparation for times like these. He can feel Katon-Ur moving around behind him as he spills the liquid into his hand, making sure to coat his fingers before turning back.
What he sees when he turns around, however, is a man desperate with need, now fully nude, legs readily parted and fully accessible. Robert has to tense back the involuntary physical effect the sight has on him. He could ravage him right then and there.
Instead, he presses a kiss to Katon-Ur’s forehead before getting back into working position, the other man only looking up at him in helpless curiosity. When Robert moves between those thighs, he readies two of the fingers coated in lubricant, using the other hand to poke and prod at Katon-Ur’s needy core in the meantime.
“Speaking of touch,” he starts, smirking as he slides the waxy forefinger past his crotch, hovering it just above his hole, “I’d like to touch you here. If it feels good… maybe I could penetrate you, too.”
“I see, of course.” Katon-Ur mumbles, his breath hitching at the sight. “I admit I have not tried, but… I am more than willing to allow it. ”
“Good,” he says, “Then just let me know if this feels good, okay?”
At the sight of a nod, Robert pushes his finger in, pumping slowly, learning him. He feels different inside, to be sure, if his anterior sex was any sort of indication. The alluring push and pull of new experiences and sex guides his intuition as he tests a variety of angles.
After a few angled thrusts, the taller man squirms, and Robert cannot immediately tell if it is out of discomfort or arousal. That is, of course until—
“Rob— ert… ahh—”
Katon-Ur makes a sound he’d never heard him make before. Choked and needy, like he’d been pulled apart at the seams. He grinds his hips upwards into the movement, forcing Robert’s finger deeper inside with the force. The tendrils on his sex writhe and grasp at Robert’s cock, supplying gentle friction that only aids in his determination.
“Mm… Feels good?”
“It’s incredible. Robert, you are incredible.”
Katon-Ur sings his name like a prayer— Robert can feel his dick throb at the sight of him, big and tough as he is, a whining mess splayed across the couch for him to access. The throes of arousal cloud his mind as he adds a second finger to his ministrations, drinking in his reactions like the smoothest whiskey, aching to take care of him like he was something precious. He could paint a picture of this moment.
The sounds that bleed from Katon-Ur’s mouth only get louder and more frantic as Robert fingers him. It is fully possible that, with his particular set of superpowers, he wouldn’t have felt any pain in the first place, but preparation was worth it just to see his expression coiled into bliss using nothing but hands. Once Robert feels he is sufficiently untensed, he removes his fingers, eliciting a whine from the other man— it pains him deeply to deny him the pleasure, but a few seconds of emptiness would be soon made up for.
He grips those thighs tight, lining himself up at Katon-Ur’s entrance. He looks positively helpless beneath him, eyes half lidded, shallow breaths accentuating his wanton stupor. The pang of endearment that follows clouds Robert’s mind like a sickness.
“I’m… gonna push in now. That okay?”
Katon-Ur looks like he could fall apart.
“Please,” he whines, “I wish to feel you inside of me again. Please.”
That was all the confirmation he needed. Robert pushes in slowly, rocking a desperate sound out of both men with the intrusion. Robert angles himself again to find a decent position and Katon-Ur helps, using one hand to hold onto him and the other to claw at the cushions on his couch. He knows that he’s found it again when a groan rips out of the man beneath him.
The steady pace he creates leaves them both panting rhythmically, working together to please each other— it feels strangely natural. The alien-hero is, for lack of better phrasing, not quite the same as other humans in his anatomy, with an unusual sex and unexpected reactions. But god, was Robert willing to learn him, to do whatever made him tick, and to see him melt in pleasure over and over again.
Katon-Ur, on the other end is focused on the man above him, drinking in his visage as he matches those movements, willing him deeper inside. His tendrils pulse and explore, involuntarily grasping at Robert’s belly and thighs as he thrusts, seeking some depth of pressure.
“You're—” Robert groans, his confidence burning like the fireworks above, “god, you're gorgeous like this.”
“You are—ah— alluring as well, Robert.” His wording is stiff, but his expression says everything his words cannot, dusted with a wonderful flush and a broken smile, untethered. His eyes are fixed on Robert’s, a countenance of two shining stars in the cold of night.
To Robert, on the other hand, Katon-Ur's rigid language is the sexiest thing in the world. He leans in as he thrusts, burying his head at the crook of Katon-Ur’s neck to suck marks there— they will fade before morning, his super-healing the direct cause, but for now they linger. Robert feels the deep, growling moans as they vibrate through his throat.
“Doing so good,” Robert chokes out, barely intelligible, “Fuck, you feel so good inside.”
“I am so glad to do so for you, please—”
Robert doesn’t know what he is pleading for, but he had never looked he needed whatever it was more than now. His body shakes with the sensations, mutterings of ‘please’ and ‘I need it’ tearing from his throat like broken prayers, washed in fervor.
“Mmph— tell me what you need, Kat,” he croons, searching.
“I must— your lips,” Katon-Ur says between broken, blissed-out sobs, “Please Robert. Kiss me. I want— I need—”
Shhk.
Suddenly, the sound of the couch cover ripping beneath Katon-Ur’s ravenous grip drowns out the crash of fireworks and slick skin. Robert doesn’t pause, but he does look over at the carnage with lidded eyes, starstruck.
He’s holding back.
God, he could pull me apart with those hands, and yet—
He doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought before Katon-Ur’s head is craned down, his other hand lifting Robert’s chin as he locks him into an anguished, messy kiss. The night is starting to feel more intense by the moment, more sincere— He’s being so purposeful, so pliant as Robert fucks into him, keeping himself at bay in exchange for only a kiss.
Like his life depended on it.
This wasn’t just intercourse or sex, not anymore. That’s why it felt different this time. For as many times as Katon-Ur had spoken about making love, this felt the most like it.
Katon-Ur is close, so close. He can barely hold their kiss as he grows louder, and more desperate, rocking into Robert with tense thrusts and writhing tendrils. Robert is close too, his fingers creating soft divots in Katon-Ur's thighs as he holds onto him, chasing both of their impending climaxes.
"Completion, I— I am— Robert..."
Another cry tears out of Katon-Ur, muffled scarcely by their half-broken kiss as his orgasm hits him, unrelenting. His body tenses and shudders, his sex pulsating in beats as a milky liquid drips from his core and down into the crook of his thighs. The feeling of him tensing around Robert’s length, along with his beautiful, blissed out face, has him following soon after.
Robert is blessed with the visage of Katon-Ur’s pleasure, quickening his rhythm with deep, rolling thrusts as he nears his climax. He is sure he says Katon-Ur’s name as he comes, once feeling foreign on his lips and now completely natural, like it belonged there, being spoken by him. He nips at his chest, claws at his thighs, the larger man meeting him with circled thrusts in tandem, and for the moment, Robert feels as though he could succumb to the feeling it’d awoken in him.
Katon-Ur holds Robert warmly as he collapses atop him, his cock sliding out with a delicate noise. He’s still warm, still comfortable— he’s home.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Happiness feels like a fever dream, like new beginnings.
The steady rhythm of Katon-Ur’s chest as he breathes in and out matches the world outside for a moment, the embers of their dual flame simmering out in streams of wonderful color. Robert isn’t sure if he can feel the pang of exhaustion in the same way as him, but he acts as a soft and inviting space to rest despite it.
Robert’s eyes flutter open, placated at the sensation of a warm body against his. He could stay like this forever, and he wouldn’t complain.
“Your cushions…” That is the first thing that Katon-Ur says in the aftermath. “I could not keep from tearing them apart.”
Robert makes a sound, remembering the vision of ragged hands clawing at his sofa. He turns his head to look at the spot at the corner of his couch, now torn open, cotton filling spilled out over shredded upholstery.
“Huh… might need to get a new one. Or learn how to reupholster.” But he just shrugs, huddling back into the big guy's chest, unbothered. “Probably not the most financially smart idea, but it was pretty sexy, so…”
“I see.” The flush that follows that statement is a treat to the eyes. “I am glad you think so. It always surprises me how my time with you ends up being spent.”
Robert cocks a brow. “Two boring assholes and boring New Year’s sex, huh?”
Katon-Ur’s following laugh emanates from deep within his chest. “I would not call our time together boring in any sense, but I did understand this reference. Very humorous.”
The two of them grow quiet as they lay together, basking in each other’s warmth for several moments. Robert feels impossibly small as he feels himself move with the rhythm of Katon-Ur’s chest raising and falling with his breath, content and happy. He brings a finger up to the man’s face, tucking a strand of hair behind blush-red ears.
Suddenly, Katon-Ur’s body tenses.
“I still do not wish for this night to end. And yet…”
He looks like he is about to leave, his eyes fixed on the door to the balcony and his body twisting slightly upwards. There's a pathetic pang in Robert's body that tears at his heart, urging him to grip Katon-Ur tighter, to keep him there. Before, it was a feeling he'd felt but couldn't place, but now he knows.
Sincerity, the most hypnotic pull of them all.
“The night’s gonna end, but…” he pauses, swirling the saccharine words around his mouth before he says them, “then, it just becomes morning. We could watch the sunrise together.”
“The sunrise…?” Katon-Ur contemplates it. “But your exhaustion—”
“Or we could fall asleep, and wake up just like this. Or anything else, but… I don’t want you to leave.”
He takes a deep breath, braving the sky to claim his star in the night.
“So,” he says, growing quiet, “stay with me until morning?”
“Oh, Robert.” Katon-Ur's eyes look like they could well up with tears. “Of course I will. I’d wish for nothing more.”
The two men huddle together for the final time that night, their shared warmth and vulnerability blooming through the night like fireworks. The chill of January creeps through the empty room, its ire guarded from by rolling air and heated blankets. And sometime in the morning, they will wake up to greet the sun.
It’s the New Year, and Robert is happy to have nothing to do.