Archive of Our Own

Zanka does not indulge himself. Zanka does not take creative liberties. Zanka does not deviate from a plan unless necessary. However, Zanka has never had to account for anyone as disgustingly masochistic and overwhelmingly strong as Jabber.

It happens on an uneventful day by Ground standards. Semiu was handing out missions. Enjin was conveniently nowhere to be seen, and when Zanka approached her table, she gave a slightly pitying expression. 

"You mind takin' a few extra? There's been a strange amount of trash beasts, and a certain someone ran off with Rudo, so we need someone t'pick up the slack." She didn't say a name, but Zanka could hear the grit in her voice reserved for complaining about Enjin. Unfortunately, Zanka is blinded by admiration, and the chance to take work from his mentor– and in turn, receive praise– had him snapping at the chance like a rabid dog. 

"'S fine," he said, suppressing the excitement in his voice in exchange for sounding like the calm and collected Cleaner he pretends to be. "I got it. Anythin' else?"

"Not right now." Semiu was squinting at him. "Take a break sometime, kid. You're gonna burn yourself out, and we need you in workin' order, alright?" She gave a half smirk before turning back to her raunchy magazine with rapt attention.

Zanka nodded, turned around, and broke out into a very nonchalant grin. Eishia rounded the corner carrying a box, only to stop dead in her tracks upon making eye contact. The box slipped from her grasp. Supplies flew everywhere, knocking into walls with dull thuds and rolling across the floor. Eishia shrieked in horror. Her face was as white as a sheet. Zanka gave a surprised yelp of his own, stopping what few rolls of medical tape and bandages he could. 

"What happened? Is somethin' wrong?" He tried not to fuss due to Eishia's weak self-perception, but the panic in his voice was evident.

"N-No! I was just- startled…" Eishia's voice came out meeker than ever.

"...Okay, by what?" 

August had made a rare appearance, slinging an arm around Eishia like an armrest. She looked mortified. 

"By yer totally creepy face just now! Smilin' like that would scare Guita, yanno?!" He shouts. 

Zanka could feel a vein becoming increasingly prominent on his temple. His face flushed against his will, and he had half a mind to jam Lovely Assistaff into his neck and commit a bloody suicide in front of all three of them, but he refrained by some miracle. Instead, he zipped out of the building with the speed of several Ground horses. 

It took him a while, but he finally made it to the site of his first job. The trash beasts occupying the small village were relatively easy to clean. He barely broke a sweat, but the villagers thanked him profusely anyway. An older woman offered him a makeshift gift bag with some sort of local pastry, oozing with opaque purple goo. It smelled heavenly, but didn't look particularly appetizing. He took it anyway. It stayed tucked away in his pocket throughout his second and third jobs, little tasks that Zanka could do blindfolded. They aren't hard, but they're time-consuming. The sky had become an orange hue by the time he was finished, and his stomach was thoroughly ignored throughout the day. He found himself in a tiny abandoned town. The trash beast cleared out anyone who would've been able to feed him a long time ago, destroying the remnants of anything edible along with half the town. It was mostly just rubble and trash now. He slumped against a wall. There probably wouldn't be a place to eat for at least a kilometer, and Zanka was beat.

Then he remembered his pastry.

It felt like a gold bar in his pocket, and the way he ripped it from its container was unbecoming of a Nijiku, but grace be damned, he was starving. Having something in his stomach would tide him over until he could reach a diner. He shoved it all down in one go, like there was no tomorrow, and almost licked his fingers clean. Almost.

5 minutes later, he was kneeling on the ground, dry-heaving into the dirt.

"Ack-!"

It was disgusting. A mix of flavors that should not ever mix was assaulting his mouth from all directions. He vaguely tasted ketchup and cheese. The smell was extremely misleading, and Zanka had vowed never to eat anything from strangers again. He had to dig his nails into the dirt just to keep from vomiting. His mouth tasted like goop and regret. He wanted to go home, maybe cry himself to sleep. Maybe even take a break tomorrow as Semiu suggested. The promise of relaxation gave Zanka the strength to stand again. Or it would have, if he hadn't frozen in place as soon as he lifted his head. A flash of white and purple was all he saw. It was all he needed.

"Jabber…!" he cursed.

Lovely Assistaff materialized in his hand. He hurled her forward, listening to the shoddy brick crack under the force of his throw as his Vital Instrument was effectively embedded into the wall. There was nothing there.

"...Ya've got ta be kidding me. I'm hallucinatin'." Zanka swore under his breath, preparing to do the walk of shame towards his treasure and apologize to her properly.

Then:

"Boo."

Zanka jumped out of his skin. He wanted to turn around, to slam his fist into that smug face he knew was waiting for him, but it seemed that Jabber had been in the mood to do him a favor. In the next second, Zanka heard his back crunch before he felt a kick delivered straight to his middle. His head hit the wall with a sickening crack, and his world went dark for a few seconds. The pain exploded behind his eyes, and he felt the stickiness of his own blood pouring down his face. His skull hurt like hell, he was still nauseous from the pastry, he was still recovering from the morning's embarrassment, and in his haste to escape the mortification, he hadn't even thought to bring a supporter with him. Fuck. On top of all that, he could hear Jabber's footsteps rapidly approaching him. Double fuck.

Zanka's eyes flew open, hands shooting up to grab his staff just in time to block Mankira's assault. Jabber only had his right hand activated for now, but Zanka knew better than to let his guard down. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the run-down alleys. The only other thing Zanka could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears like a breaking dam. He swung his treasure, slamming into his opponent's face and sending him sprawling a solid few meters away. He heard him cackle happily, as if this were all a game. As if Zanka wasn't hungry, tired, and seriously injured. As if he hadn't had the worst damn day he's had in a long time. He dug Lovely Assistaff into the ground to steady himself as he swayed on his feet, blinking slowly. 

Jabber had already recovered, running towards him, which brought him back to the present. Everything seems to move in slow motion when you're in mortal danger, he's learned.

'I think my skull's cracked. The blood's gettin' in my eyes, and I can't see straight. This fuckin' scuzzball is just laughin', like it's funny. If I don't get outta here soon, I'm cooked. But what can I do? He ain't gonna let me run. That's just settin' myself up to die a slow death twitchin' on the ground like a tweaker off my rocker. But I can't fight like this either. What can I do? WhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdo WhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdoWhatcanIdo-'

Mankira was only inches away. His mouth moves on its own.

"Make sure you hurt me good this time," he sputtered. 

Both of them froze. 

"...Hah?" Jabber blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Then he grinned impossibly wide. "Yo! No way, Mr. Bad Attitude's got a secret masochistic streak too?! I knew you an' me were the same!" He prattles on, using his left hand to roughly slap Zanka's right shoulder. Then his voice becomes deathly serious. "Don't worry, Zanka! I'll make it hurt juuuust right for ya," He clamps down on the cleaner's shoulder so hard that the bone slightly shifts. Zanka has to grit his teeth to keep from hissing in pain. "'Cause me 'n you? We're gonna get to know each other real well."

Zanka has no time to dodge the slash of Mankira this time. It tears through his uniform, sinking into the flesh of his chest. The wound is superficial compared to the way he usually attacks, only going through the first two layers of his skin. Then the toxin hits him like a trash beast. His heart feels like it's gonna beat out of his chest, and he starts warming up rapidly. He's also a little dizzy, but that might be from the head injury, so he files it away for later. A buzz washes over him, but it quickly becomes a sting all over. Jabber eyes are bright with euphoria.

"How's it feel, ZanZan? Feels good, right? Right?!" The raider gets so close that their noses are inches apart. Zanka, through his haze, desperately wishes for his half mask. He shoots Jabber the nastiest glare he can with his eyelids drooping.

"Ya fuckin' reek, back up!" Zanka uses his good arm to switch their positions, wrapping a hand around Jabber's neck and smashing him into the brick. The raider chokes on a moan, smiling erratically. Is he moanin' cuz of the insult or the pain, the Cleaner thinks to himself. His eyes dart down to Mankira. Jabber's left hand draws to the side of his neck that Zanka's palm doesn't cover. The sharp claws are tinged with blood. His blood. The raider rests the tips of Mankira against his own neck. Then he slashes, grunting as his eyes roll back. Every vein in Zanka's body is on fire, electric currents shooting up his nerves and into his brain. 

For some reason, he's almost jealous of Mankira. He shakes the thought from his head, blames it on the toxin, and pointedly ignores the steady ooze of blood dripping down his enemy's neck. He ignores that he wants to lick it.

"Ahh…that's the spot," Jabber moans, lolling his head against the wall. "Man, I ain't never gonna get tired of it! Feels like my skin's 'bout to melt off!" 

"What'd you do t'me."

"To us, ya mean?"

"Me, you, us, the hell's it matter?! You can go get yer rocks off on yer own, I like bein' sober enough to think straight, ya junkie!" 

Jabber squints, smirking now.

"Ah~! Make sure you hurt me good this time, daddy~!" His voice is a high-pitched, girly thing. Zanka's face burns harder than it has in years.

"I didn't say all that shit, not even close?!"

Zanka's fingers itch to beat the guy in front of him to a bloody pulp, but a fresh wave of nausea reminds him that he has about an hour, maybe half, before he collapses from blood loss. Unfortunately, he's got no choice but to play along until he can find an opening and run for his life. 

"'S fiiine, Zanka. Ain't nobody around to see the real you but me. Can't ya trust me?"

"Hell no."

Jabber laughs. It sounds like poison in his ears, slipping past his defenses. His bright magenta eyes grow dull, signaling the deactivation of Mankira, and Zanka can't wrap his head around why until he gets decked in the jaw. His torso whips to the side, but he quickly snaps back with an attack of his own and sends his right elbow into Jabber's neck, gritting his teeth through the pain of swinging his shoulder. The raider makes a wheezing-choking sound, grinning as he grabs onto Zanka's right bicep and twists until he hears a proper crack. Zanka makes a noise like a wounded animal. The pain explodes across his entire body, but something about the toxin makes it feel almost far away. Almost good. He uses his good arm to grab onto one of Jabber's locs, pulling his head down and slamming it into his knee. His skull makes a gross thudding sound, but the Cleaner pays it no mind and uses his momentum to kick his opponent away properly. Jabber yowls in what would be pain for a normal person, but Zanka can see him drooling where he landed on the ground. He smirks.

Jabber doesn't let him feel victorious for long. He charges once more, this time leading with his right fist. Zanka swerves his body away from the attack, but Jabber is faster. His fist pounds into the ground, and he uses it as a platform to lift his legs and jut his left leg into the Cleaner's side. The smirk is wiped off his face in an instant, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from making any more sounds. His opponent doesn't let up, pushing off his hand and sending himself flying at Zanka. He dodges properly this time. Jabber flies right past him and into a heap of trash and debris, getting lost inside the rubble. He doesn't emerge. Zanka waits. And waits. And waits. What has likely only been about a minute feels like an eternity with the effect of the neurotoxin. He narrows his eyes, moving towards the pile at last, but not before gripping onto Lovely Assistaff as if his life depended on it. It might.

"D'ya think I'm stupid? The same trick won't work on me twice." He grumbles, speedwalking towards the rubble. "I swear, if yer playin' dead, I'll kick yer ass." 

Zanka's heart pounds in his ears. His whole body hurts, his shoulder is probably broken, and his eyelashes are caked with blood. It doesn't stop him. In fact, it spurs him on. He should probably take his chance and leave now, while Jabber is presumably incapacitated, but he can't help it. He wants, no, needs to see things through. For all his faults, Jabber is infuriatingly good at telling Zanka the things he doesn't know about himself yet. He didn't want to admit it, but deep down, there's probably a sadistic streak in him. It awakens every time he sees that smug bastard's face. Every smirk makes him want to crush his skull in his palms and display the fragments as trophies. He wants to be the only one who can give Jabber exactly what he needs. His head feels like it's splitting open the more he thinks about it. Nothing in the Nijiku family prepared him for the discovery that he likes beating things to a pulp. 

He's pulled out of his head by a hand clasping around his ankle and yanking. He goes down, back thudding against the ground. Jabber clambers on top of him, slotting his Zanka's thigh between his legs. Something hard presses into him through the fabric. He shoots Jabber an unimpressed look. He pushes himself up on his good arm, sitting up to face the taller. 

"Yer seriously gettin' off on this? Freak."

Jabber moans with a nod, drool leaking out of his mouth like a faucet now.

"It- it really hit me while I was in there, yanno? Think I dosed us with a little too much," He sighs happily, grinding away as if he didn't just admit to overdosing both of them.

"Ya never even told me what it is! Quit movin' and tell me what ya gave me, shithead!"

"Relax, it's just a lil' toxin, kay? A normal dose of this stuff is borin'! Gives you a tiny buzz, that's it," Jabber does not stop moving. If anything, talking about drugging Zanka seems to get him going even more. "But what I gave you is the real deal. You're probably burnin' up right now, and your heart's beatin' real fast too…but the fun part hasn't kicked in yet."

"There's more ta this?!"

Jabber cackles wholeheartedly for a bit, but his expression hardens into something slightly serious soon after.

"Yeah, there's the whole itchin-to-fuck-anythin-in-front-of-you part after a while,"

"The what?"

"...but! You're in luck, Mr. Bad Attitude!"

"How is any part of this me being lucky?!" 

"I don't really care for forcing myself on people, yanno? So of course, I have an antidote! All you gotta do is say no, capisce?"

Zanka squints.

"Aren't ya forcin' yerself on me right now?"

Jabber halts his movements. Zanka only mourns the loss a little. He thinks long and hard (read: he doesn't think at all) about his decision. He's definitely in no position to have sex right now. Definitely not with a raider. Absolutely not with Jabber Wonger. But he does look really good when he shuts his mouth. Almost tolerable.

"...I ain't sayin' no." He has to look away when he admits it. He can't handle the inevitable smug smirk. "But we're doin' this my way. My back fuckin' hurts."

Jabber doesn't respond with words. Zanka hears the shing! of Mankira, and the claw pierces him faster than he can blink. But the pain isn't so bad anymore; it's faded into a steady throb rather than a burning sting all over. It hurts just enough to feel good. Maybe he wasn't totally lying earlier.

"Now we can play for real, yeah?"

Mankira is put away. Zanka doesn't know if he should be happy or sad. He settles on neutral. Jabber resumes his movements, babbling away again.

"Dunno when it'll hit you, should be soon," he mutters. But I'm likin' it like this, too.. The way you're looking at me like I'm filthy really gets me goin', ZanZan ♡."

"Would ya shut the hell up and focus? Yer not the only one tryin' to…" he trails off, looking anywhere but Jabber and his hips grinding against his thigh and the blood on his neck that he wants to drink and-

The raider grabs his chin, making Zanka look up at him. His face is flushed a deep red, sweat and blood dripping down his face, but he's still got that stupid grin on his lips like nothing is wrong.

"Tryin' to what? Speak up, or I won't know what you want." Jabber trails his finger down his jaw, his neck, his chest, and pushes a finger into one of the claw marks he left earlier. Zanka chokes on a whine, which only seems to excite Jabber even more. He pushes deeper, creating an even shallower wound, thrusting in and out of the little hole he made. The pain burns somewhere deep in his chest. The only thing he can manage to do is not scream, biting his bottom lip raw. Even with whatever Jabber inflicted on him, it's still a lot. Jabber seems to grow bored with his lack of interesting reactions. His knee moves to properly push against the shorter man. 

"Ghk-!" Zanka makes an undignified sound. He didn't even realize he was hard, didn't know when it happened, but he was certainly aware of it now.

"Oh? What's this, Zan~ka? You don't even need the full effect, huh? You're already rarin' to go down here!" Jabber makes a point to grind harder than necessary. Zanka has to rake his nails into the dirt for the second time today. He shoots a menacing glare up at Jabber, and his right hand moves on its own, as his body seems to do when it comes to the raider. Zanka digs his fingers into the wound on the other's neck, ignoring the way his eyes roll back. He definitely doesn't press harder just to hear him whimper.

"'Ya just don't know when to shut yer damn mouth, do ya?" He doesn't know when he figured out how to put so much venom in his voice. Zanka is everything but experienced in the sex department, only ever knowing the touch of Lovely Assistaff and his own hand, but he figures it can't be too hard. His other hand comes to grip Jabber's hip possessively, dragging him back and forth roughly on his thigh. He doesn't know what he's doing, but he's doing something right because Jabber convulses on top of him, fist clenching on the fabric of his ruined uniform as he vocalizes his orgasm. It's a damn good sight. Zanka feels a little smug somewhere in his heart. Take that, asshole.

Jabber pants, seemingly out of breath, but he comes back fairly quickly. And with ideas. 

"Brace yourself!" He says, but gives Zanka no time to do so before he hauls him up into his arms. Rather, arm, because he uses one hand to grab Lovely Assistaff, much to Zanka's panic.

"Put her down! What the hell are ya doin'?!" Flailing, he reaches for his treasure, but Jabber holds it just out of reach until he sets him down against a wall, sliding him down into a sitting position and climbing on top once again. Then, he captures both of Zanka's wrists in one hand. They're thin, so it's not hard, but it makes the cleaner throb in his pants anyway. The taller one then drives Lovely Assistaff into the brick, pinning Zanka's hands above him. 

"...Ah," the shorter breathes a sigh of relief.

"Relaaax, Z. I wouldn't touch it if I didn't have a good reason." he looks really serious for some reason.

A vein pops on Zanka's temple.

"Her."

"Wha?"

"She ain't an it. It's her."

Jabber looks him up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You got the hots for your Vital Instrument or somethin'?"

Zanka ignores him, flexing the thigh Jabber is perched on. He stops that line of questioning in favor of feeling good for a moment, but the serious look returns.

"Hey, I just realized I never asked ya," Jabber squints. "Do you top or bottom?"

"Uh." 

Jabber squints more.

"Don't tell me."

"...Okay, I won't."

"Zanka!" Jabber shouts, and Zanka squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn't stop him from hearing the absolute cackle that the raider is having at his expense, as usual. "No way- Big Z has never gotten his dick wet?!"

Zanka opens his eyes just to glare at him, but it has no effect. He's in the clouds now, having the time of his life, laughing at poor little virgin Zanka. Tears form in his eyes, and he starts slapping the ground next to himself and wheezing. The shorter's ego is thoroughly bruised during every encounter with Jabber, but for some reason, this feels worse than getting his incapacitated near-corpse emoted on.

"I'm leavin'. Go find someone else to fuck, you good-fer-nothin' dog," he spits.

Jabber gives a pornographic moan that sounds fake, but it's hard to tell. Anyhow, he settles down to just giggling.

"Sorry, ZanZan…" He says, definitely not sorry. "Here, lemme kiss it better for ya!"

He leans in, pressing his lips to Zanka's as they belong there. His lips are chapped, of course, but it's not a bad kiss. Zanka doesn't really know how to do it, moving his lips the best he can, but it's clear he's not doing it right when Jabber stifles a chuckle against his mouth. He receives a swift bite to his bottom lip as punishment, but it only makes him moan into the kiss, and then their tongues are in each other's mouths, and there's spit swapping between them like candy. It should be gross, but all Zanka can think about is how Jabber tastes bittersweet, like citrus-flavored candy. It suddenly becomes Zanka's favorite taste in the world. 

It occurs really late that kissing probably isn't the best idea. Kissing means feelings. Kissing is intimate.

Zanka leans farther into the kiss anyway. 

Jabber is the one to pull away, tongue hanging out of his mouth to show the string of saliva they created. The cleaner cringes. He raises an eyebrow.

"Spit icks you out, but ya just had your tongue all in my mouth like you're starvin'. Tsk tsk, Z. Gotta stand on it."

"Maybe cuz I am starvin'," he mutters.

"Alright~ Allow Chef Jabber to whip you up a tasty snack, then!" is what he says, before he yanks down the pants of what remains of the uniform. Jabber comments about his plain underwear, but quickly shuts his mouth when Zanka narrows his eyes at him. He pulls those down too, spreading the shorter man's legs apart and shuffling down on his knees. Zanka tries not to shut his thighs as Jabber scrutinizes his cock like a new poison. Zanka has never compared sizes with anyone, so he doesn't know if he's small or not. The anxiety has his fists clenching hard. Jabber seems to be more than satisfied, though, if the drool is anything to go by. He makes a show of kissing the tip, then the side, dragging his tongue along a vein and chuckling when Zanka's breath hitches. His hand reaches down to help, lubed with spit, and Jabber gives him a few slow strokes before he decides that's boring. The speed and intensity increase violently. Zanka doesn't even have time to moan correctly, just choking out little ah's or uhn's when he has enough breath. Jabber keeps his mouth busy, sucking the tip just to watch the extra spit drip down.

It's already a lot for someone who's never had more than a self-given handjob and messy grinding. Nothing prepares him for the wet heat that suddenly engulfs half of him. His toes curl in his boots as he fights a premature orgasm. Jabber pays no attention to him, growing increasingly obsessed with taking the whole length in his mouth. He bobs up and down a few times, getting a feel for it, taking more with each motion. It's too much, too warm, and just when he thinks it can't get worse than this-

A rush of blinding heat surges through his body. His cock throbs violently in Jabbers mouth, to which he makes a noise of happiness, and the vibrations have his eyes rolling. Everything is on fire, and he's so sensitive. If it was good before, it's heavenly now. Is this what he meant by real deal? Zanka thinks to himself. Then any thought he wanted to have is promptly pushed out of his brain by Jabber swallowing around him. His throat hugs his length like it was made to, and when the raider inevitably chokes and gags, it feels even better. Zanka's hips kick up. It forces his cock even deeper into Jabber's throat, and he gets a pleased noise in return. He makes a conscious effort to do it again, and again, and again, until he can't stop himself from fucking Jabber's throat as if he owns it. He makes the mistake of looking down. The sight that greets him is something straight from hell.

Jabber, crying with his mouth stuffed full of dick. It's a miracle he doesn't cum right there. He does leak heavily down the raider's throat, forcing him to swallow all of it, but he doesn't cum. Zanka closes his eyes, and he feels tears slipping down his own cheeks. He can't stop moving his hips, but Jabber doesn't seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. His tongue moves along the underside of his cock, making patterns that drive Zanka to the brink.

"Please- oh, fuck, 'm gonna cum, I need-!"

Jabber hums, dragging his teeth across the shaft as he leaves nothing but the tip in his mouth, and it's over.

Zanka cums with a whimper, thighs clenching around Jabber's head. The raider doesn't let up, sucking the head even after Zanka's long since finished. It leaves him shaking, trying to get away from the overstimulation, until his tormentor finally gives him a reprieve and pulls off. Then, Jabber kisses him. It's dirty. Zanka is being tonguefed his own cum. It's disgusting. 

Doesn't stop him from swallowing it all anyway. 

"...Salty," He says when Jabber lets his lips go. He's got a little frown on his face.

"It's your snack, don't be ungrateful, kay? I worked hard on it!" Jabbers voice is wrecked. He sounds hoarse, like his throat got scratched by sandpaper.

"...Didn't I work harder than you…"

"Ehhh?! I just gave you the best head of your life, at the cost of my damn throat!"

"Right- sorry…"

"And what do you say when someone does somethin' real nice for you? Don't tell me they don't teach y'all Cleaners any manners up there."

"...Thank you," Zanka says, glaring but obedient.

"Wow, somethin' 'bout a pretty boy thanking me really gets me goin'." 

Zanka doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't, which Jabber takes as a response in itself.

"Alright!" he says, clapping his hands and shifting positions again, this time with his knees bracketing Zanka's thighs. "Time to get down to business!"

"Wait- inside? Now? Don't ya need, um, lube? Ain't it gonna hurt if 's dry?"

Jabber, for all his patience so far, gives Zanka a deadpan stare.

"The blood loss is gettin' to you, huh."

"Oh." A new shade of red blooms on Zanka's face.

"Aaanyway-" Jabber shucks off his own pants and underwear quickly, but not quick enough for Zanka to miss the patterns on his underwear. "I'll be fine. Dont'cha worry your pretty head 'bout it."

"Are those spiders?"

"Hell yeah, they are! What's it to ya, Plain Black Undies?"

"......"

Jabber smirks at his silence, very obviously taking it as a win. He grabs Zanka's cock with none of the gentleness he probably should have used, resulting in a pained hiss, and lines him up with his hole. He throws his free arm around Zanka's neck, leaning into the junction of his shoulder.

Then he starts sinking down.

Immediately, it's too much. Only the head makes it in before Zanka's mindless whining about the pleasure begins, to which Jabber responds by biting his neck so hard it bleeds, and they match again. Jabber doesn't pay him much more mind than that, though, too busy groaning as he takes more and more of Zanka's cock. By halfway, tears have begun to track down the cleaner's face again. His hands wiggle, loosening just enough to grip Lovely Assistaff like a lifeline. 

Jabber finally takes it all, ass flush with Zanka's hips. It's so much, every nerve in his body is alight with pleasure and pain, and it's so much. He doesn't know if he should run away or lean into it, but he's got no choice but to take it. Jabber begins his mission to make Zanka lose his mind, giving one slow bounce, then two, then speeding up exponentially. The feverish heat of Jabbers walls massages him with each thrust, his own precum helping it slide in smoother. Jabber, despite his boasts, doesn't seem to be doing much better. Every time he forces himself to take Zanka to the hilt, a guttural moan is punched out of him. He sounds like a dying horse, but the toxin must've knocked a screw loose in Zanka's brain, because it only makes everything hotter, and he's grossly into it. Somewhere along the way, Jabber starts losing his rhythm, thighs shaking with the effort it takes to bounce himself so fast. 

And then he starts fucking talking.

"Za~nka, come on, baby…help me out here, wont'cha?"

"Not- ungh, yer fuckin' baby-!" He says. He tries to sound pissed, but he's not, and he listens anyway. His first thrust is pathetic, a weak thing coming from a place of insecurity, but Jabber moans so loud that even Zanka has to believe he's doing okay. His second attempt is much better anyway. He's almost proud of the noises he can get Jabber to make. They make him throb inside of Jabber, which earns him a half giggle that breaks off into a moan. Only gotta survive a little more until Jabber finishes, he reassures himself. His grasp on Lovely Assistaff doesn't waver, gripping her hard enough to threaten blood on his palms. He tries to hold off his orgasm. He really does.

Unfortunately, Jabber has proven to be a talker when he's feeling good.

"Right there, c'mon, that's so good,"

"Fuckkk, baby-"

"You can do, shit, better than that, come on!"

"That's good, per~fect,"

And the killer:

"Good boy, ZanZan. ♡"

He doesn't mean to cum. It just happens before he can stop it. He tried.

Jabber moans in surprise, pulling away from destroying his neck to look at him properly. Flushed, crying, blood smeared all over his face, and getting in his hair. 

"That's what does it for you?" Jabber raises an eyebrow at him. "I was makin' fun of ya."

Zanka's chest heaves. For some reason, his ego feels bruised. A drugged-up Zanka with a bruised ego makes irrational decisions.

The glow in his eyes dies, and Lovely Assistaff reverts to her natural state. The gap where her activated form used to be leaves enough room for Zanka to yank her out of the wall. She hits Jabber in the forehead with a dull thud, and Zanka has to stifle a laugh while he sets her down safely. Then he shoves Jabber to the ground, flips him over, and pushes his head into the dirt, twisting for good measure.

"Yer really gettin' on my nerves." He grumbles, grabbing the raider's waist and pulling him up on his knees. "I told ya earlier, ya don't know when t'shut yer damn mouth. But 's alright. You can sit down there 'n eat the dirt til' I'm satisfied."

Jabber lets out a sound that could only be described as a wail. Then-

"Did ya just…?"

His thighs are shaking, and yep– there's a puddle of cum underneath him.

"That's what does it for ya?" He mocks.

Jabber is unresponsive for a second, then he slowly turns his head. For a moment, Zanka thinks he's gone too far, but then he sees the look in Jabber's eyes. He's seen it before. 

Pure, unadulterated euphoria. 

Zanka's shoulders sag in relief, but not for long. Jabber shuffles up,  drags his thumb across his still bleeding neck, and swipes the bloody digit across Zanka's choker. He does the same with Zanka's blood for his. It happens so fast that Zanka can't even protest or scramble away like he wants to. He looks down at himself. Sweat and blood caked on his skin like a film. He looks over at Jabber. He's got cum on himself, and bruises are forming all over his waist and thighs. He looks at himself. Then at Jabber. 

He promptly passes out.

-

Enjin is standing over him when he wakes up. He's in the medical wing again. He feels a hell of a lot better.

"Did Eishia help me..?" He asks groggily.

"Sure did," Enjin replies, scratching his head. "Rudo found you sprawled on the stairs, covered in blood, outside when he came back. What the hell happened to you?"

It takes Zanka a few moments to recall. "...I took on a few jobs…ate somethin' weird…and then..."

It all hits him at once. Jabber. The toxin. His virginity. Gone.

"Ah…Ahhh……aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

-

In the middle of the night, Jabber contacts him.

"Heya, Mr. Bad Attitude! Whaddaya say we meet up and I bend you ov-"

Zanka takes his choker off and tosses it across his room.