Chapter Text
"It's so fuckin' cold and I'm far from home." Jabber sighed. "Been sitting on this stone for way too long- hey, that's a sick rhyme!"
"And I wonder, what are wars for?" He continued singing some tune he was making up on the spot. The moment he found a great rhythm, he started rapping random lyrics just to continue the music.
Jabber and Zanka were supposed to meet for some late-night sparring. If you asked Jabber, that was one of the best deals he's ever made. Zanka, on the other hand, wouldn't agree.
Zanka already trained in his free time, so he convinced himself this was more training and that it wouldn't be so bad if he spent some more time with the enemy freak.
Sneaking out of Cleaners' Headquarters wasn't so easy, though. Sometimes he would have to wait to be sure he could actually leave before heading out.
Jabber couldn't stop trembling. He was so excited, remembering his previous encounters with the Cleaner. Zanka would never admit it, but he was clearly a sadist. No other person would be so perfectly cruel.
No other person could get him so pent up, so hard. It usually wouldn't be noticeable, thanks to his baggy clothes, but his clothes were soaked by the rain and he was sitting down, so he looked like he had a rocket in his pants.
"Mr. Bad Attitude is so cold to me... like the snow in the... no, that's a shitty line. He's a whitey like the snowing... still a shitty line." He groaned.
Completely bored, he frowned, not very fond of patience. He would be dancing alongside his song, but he had nothing to celebrate about. He just wanted Zanka to be there already! He didn't know what to do. Should he inject himself something that would make him dizzy enough to feel like time passed faster?
Jabber waited under the rain for two hours. It had subsided until stopping, the smell of mud mixing with his various aromas of poisons and unwashed blood.
The two hours felt like a thousand. He was starting to feel insulted, like a doggy waiting for his owner. The idea was so humiliating, it was kind of motivating.
"You mental! What are you doing?" Zanka yelled as he found Jabber. "You're wet."
"Yes, I'm so wet for you!"
"I- bastard, I'm not gonna fight you like that."
"C'mon, man! I'm just a bit soaked! What's so wrong about it?"
Zanka looked down at Jabber's pants, but finally decided to refrain from even mentioning the issue.
He had already disturbed his sleep just to go with that insolent, might as well just do it. For some reason, he had been thinking way too much about his opponent lately, so much, sparring felt like a relief.
Zanka knew the longer a fight against Jabber was, the worse he ended. It was like Jabber first took his time to enjoy the beating, to enjoy the agony he was inflicted, to taunt him and savor his irritation.
Partially, Zanka also knew he enjoyed the build-up, too. To hit him hard enough for Jabber to gasp, to hear his whines when he glared at him like the piece of shit he was.
Behind some deep corner of his mind, Zanka wanted nothing but to have Jabber underneath, insignificant against his control, to ruin his stupid face hit after another, but the idiot's grin wouldn't falter. He'd enjoy it. So Zanka would find every way possible to have Jabber crying, moaning, begging...
It wasn't the first time he wrapped his hand around his dick after an encounter with the Raider, not the first time he jerked off to nonsensical fantasies of him, either, but it still stung to realize he was doing it again.
Though, when his body was struggling to survive his wounds and fix whatever chemical reaction the poison has created, the least he could do was to get rid of his erection.
After he came, he stared at his hand and questioned his every decision that lead him into that moment, into masturbating over an insane Raider that kept making him feel like a weak creature.
He didn't have the energy to appropriately clean the mess, so he wiped his hand with his own underwear and closed his eyes to fall asleep. He knew he'd be having some interesting wet dream next. It somehow became an usual.
Meanwhile, Jabber returned to his place, frustrated. Zanka still didn't let him see his full potential! He was questioning if he should still insist on giving Zanka more opportunities, yet he knew he would regret giving up on him.
"You'd be a bitch ass circus star, you leave so low the fuckin' bar, you keep on making up stupid shit in your mind, ain't you ever gonna hit with your all?"
Jabber laughed. "Ooh, Jabber, you're so dope at this, boy!" He told himself. "You get me hella bricked-up, Zan-Zan... how long are you gonna make me wait for?" He whispered.
He took an edible and laid down, undressing. He scratched his own torso with his painted nails and couldn't help but wonder if Zanka would scratch harshly enough to make him bleed. "Bet you would, you sadist..."
"Bet you'd call me a disgusting whore and cum inside of me." Drooling, he reached out for a lube bottle and poured some on his hands. His fingers tentatively made their way down to his ass. Didn't hesitate before pushing one inside and his free hand went to tease his balls.
"Would you make me suck your cock? Would you make me choke on it?" Jabber slipped another finger in, enjoying the stretch. He pulled them in and out repeatedly, his wrist angled to hit his prostate. So delicious, he needed more.
He bit his lip, the stimulation was enough to have him moaning, yet not as intense as he liked it. He didn't wanna touch his dick so soon.
He whimpered and picked up the pace of his thrusts. He closed his eyes, imagining Zanka fucking him instead, Zanka grabbing his waist, clawing at his skin. After adding a finger, he had no mercy for himself. He loved it rough, the way he was left aching afterwards.
A whole hour had passed, Jabber had been edging himself until he remembered his routine. When he fought Zanka in the trash beast, he had some free time with unconscious, tripping Zanka. So he may or may not have put some of his blood in Zanka's choker.
The jarring sound it made hadn't been enough to wake the exhausted Cleaner so far. After activating it, he simply let out a moan.
"Mr. Bad-Attitude... it hurts so good!" He grinned and called it enough. Just a small dose to unknowingly keep Zanka motivated for the day.