Archive of Our Own

It’s not often Herman frequented this bar. It’s a bit on the sketchy side; filled more with villains and overall shady types than heroes, but the drinks were delicious and sweet, and the music selection was nice– tonight’s even metal/rock night. Herman kept telling himself that he’d go one day, but it often landed on a night where the team dragged him off for team building and bar hopping. Tonight it was just him, since everyone else had already made plans prior; so finally he went to see what the fuss was all about. 

Some metalheads in thick makeup glanced over at him, eyebrows raised, lips furrowed– they’re looking at him like he doesn’t belong. He ignored them; he just wanted to quietly sip his Pina Colada, enjoy the beat, and maybe– if he’s lucky– lock eyes with a handsome stranger. Will they go home together? Probably not, but a little flirting, maybe even a little dirty dancing wouldn’t be so bad. He doesn’t feel comfortable bringing strangers home to his grandma’s house– and he’s not feeling like hooking up at a motel tonight. 

He flushed, tapping the bottom of his glass with the silly straw it came with. He hadn't been feeling like that for awhile now, to be honest. The thought of a certain dispatcher flashed across his mind, and Herman took a sip; fighting the flush in his cheeks. The loneliness had become something more intense; something more grounding. It lounged in the pit of his stomach, like one of his grandma’s cats, stretching out across the floor. It sat there; the thought of coming home to someone. And stewed.

This gay bar had been highly recommended to him by Flambae, who said he needed to stop being such a sad sack– the fact that even Flambae realized he’d been feeling a little glum spoke volumes– and let loose a little. So, here he was, planning to make the most of tonight. He’s going to forget the longing in his chest, and just have fun for tonight. Not too much… just enough.

Robert couldn’t really make out the words the guy was singing right now with how badly the sound guy had tampered with the mic. It’s louder than he’s usually comfortable with, but maybe right now what he needed was for someone to drown out the pulsing of his own after work thoughts. He’d been itching all day, for a fight or a fuck, he wasn’t completely sure, but one way or another he needed to bite into something.

The air smelt almost too sweet, the floor sticky and a little tacky under Robert’s work shoes as he approached the bar area. He focused on the way the bass guitar pulsed through the floor, matching in time with his own racing heart. He could feel the eyes of the people around him homing in on the SDN logo on his shirt. He knew what he was here for, and he had a feeling that they did too. The same old villains watched him pass from the same old booths, lazy-eyed and curious. He’d had more than a few of them already. Knew intimately the kinds of rough handling each of them could give him. He had burn marks and cuts, bruises in the shapes of firmly pressed fingers on his hips.

When he reached the bar, he drummed his fingers to the vague semblance of the song that was playing, flashing a toothy smile when the bartender appeared with his usual whiskey neat. He didn’t have to say a word, merely picked it up and downed it in one, the heat of the alcohol burning pleasantly as it settled in his empty stomach. No doubt he’d regret not eating something later, when he’s throwing up in some stranger’s bathroom, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to really care. Hurting is part of the deal. It’s discomfort that he’s seeking, that he deserves.

He could already feel the stares against his back as he ordered another shot, feeling the sickening sensation of appraisal as some of the strange men sized him up, to see if he was worth taking. There were rows of people along the side of the bar, the sound of their chattering a low and distant hum that Robert couldn’t quite follow. His eyes traced over the groups, hopping from one face to another in the dim lighting. He could see plenty of that fun metal makeup he always heard about and without warning, he thought of Waterboy.

Herman, he reminded himself. They were on a first name basis now, after all. He smiled to himself, tapping the bottom of the shot glass on the bar as he waited for the bartender to come back around with a refill. It’s funny how just the fleeting thought of the other man could make him smile. The idea of Herman being here, surrounded by other metal fans, jumping and having fun in the moshpit was…

As if God were playing a cruel trick on him, or some villain had read his thoughts, Robert saw a tall, familiar ginger head pop up, before it disappeared back into the crowd. It was so quick, Robert assumed he had imagined it; he had been thinking about the other– so maybe that’s why he’d thought he’d seen–

But then a tall figure rounded the corner, and Robert almost spat out his drink. Sure enough, there’s Waterboy, strolling casually towards the bar, holding a goblet shaped glass containing a light and creamy yellow liquid, erring more on the side of smoothie, a piece of pineapple wedged at the lip. He didn’t notice Robert just yet; his eyes glancing at the decorations along the walls; the bright neon a sharp contrast to the crowd wearing mostly black and maroon. Compared to them, Waterboy stuck out like a sore thumb; other than a shirt that may or may not have the faded name of a metal band– Robert wasn’t a connoisseur of heavy metal, the man was wearing an open Hawaiian shirt with a green and pink leafy pattern, which, upon closer inspection, had watermelons woven into the design. He was also still wearing his wetsuit underneath, the bright blue neoprene material covering his arms and legs; he was turning heads in that flashy getup. His stupid blue swimming goggles sat atop his head, like a pair of shades. 

Fuck! Waterboy?

And then, those gray eyes locked with his own, and Waterboy stopped dead in his tracks; eyes widening, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

No, no, no, Robert thought, his heart already stumbling over itself. What little is left of his drink almost spilt over the wooden bar next to him. No one was supposed to be here, no one was supposed to know about this.

The burn of the whiskey had turned to acid in his stomach, eating through all of the excuses as fast as he was thinking of them. Waterboy was coming towards him now, an uncertain smile arriving on his face just as he planted himself in front of the shorter man.

“H-hi-howdy.” He cocked his head, exhaling a little laugh at the expression on Robert’s face, “I wasn’t expecting to see-talk to anyone from work-the office.”

Robert couldn’t help the way his eyes dipped down low and then pulled up again, eyeing up the bizarre mismatch of colours the other man was wearing. It was almost alarming to his senses. Even in the dull lighting he wanted to squint.

“Uh, Herm, what are you wearing right now?”

Herman glanced down as if he hadn’t quite noticed before it was pointed out. He directed a long, slender finger back towards himself with a quiet, self-deprecating laugh that Robert could hardly even hear over the music, “I’m the designated- the go to h-hero. For emergencies.”

“So,” Robert arched a dark eyebrow at him, “You what? Supply the water if somebody gets too drunk?”

Herm snorted at that, “Y-yeah, some-something like that.”

Robert tried not to lean in towards the heat of the other man’s body, told himself it was because the bar was busy and the space was limited, but he knew better; he was just impossibly drawn to this sweet man. It was like his broken and wounded body knew that Herman would be kind and wanted some of that kindness for itself.

But Robert knew no matter how much he wanted it, kindness wasn’t something he, or his stupid, broken down body, deserved.

He pulled away again, averting his eyes selfconsciously whenever he remembered why he was really there tonight. The last thing he wanted was for Waterboy to see him like that. To see what the hero that he idolised was really like behind all the smoke and mirrors.

“I’m sure you’ve got your hands full with everything,” he said vaguely, gesturing back towards the crowds. Don’t let me keep you.

Herman’s smile fell at the same time as his lighter-coloured eyebrows rose, “D-don’t you want to dance-join in?” He glanced around the place where Robert was still leaning against the counter, “You’re all by your-alone.”

Not for long, if I’m lucky, Robert thought bitterly. The ache that had been building in his gut all day felt like a ravenous, gnawing hole now. It twisted something inside of him, made him feel sick and rotten and wrong. And a thousand miles away from the sweet-faced, wetsuit-wearing hero currently giving up his Saturday night to help keep a bunch of villains safe at a crappy metal night.

He felt the eyes of someone behind him and a thrill, both pleasant and repulsive, raced down the length of his spine. He knew that sensation, craved it as much as he recoiled from it. He turned his head just as the man was approaching him, rum and coke in one, leather-gloved hand. His hair, spiked up to within an inch of its life and dyed an obnoxious red, was further highlighted by the dermal implants along the curve of his skull and jawbone. He looked like a walking billboard ad for SDIs, and he was exactly the kind of person Robert knew would smash him into a bathroom sink and never call him back.

The kind of person I came here for, he thinks.

Robert was avoiding his eyes, Herman noted with slight alarm. The way the man smiled– the light not reaching those brown eyes, the way he seemed to shrink in his seat after Herman came over; like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing– like he was ashamed.

What did Mecha Man have to be ashamed of?

It wasn’t like his friend– it wasn’t like their leader to look so uncertain— uncomfortable.

Robert looked uncomfortable; and Herman knew he could be a bit ignorant with social cues, but he was also quite perceptive; he knew that Robert was acting like this because of him. Was Robert annoyed that Herman was here too? Did he want to be alone? Had Herman ruined the man’s night?

Those feelings of guilt swirled inside him. He’d hate to be the reason that Mecha Man– that his friend, Robert– was no longer having a good time, “Hey– are you– I’m—”

Before he could even apologize, from his peripheral, he saw someone large stalking towards the bar; no, not the bar– them. Someone was making a beeline for them– more specifically, Robert. He could feel their eyes on the smaller man; hungry and dangerous, like he was stalking prey. Herman tensed, jaw twitching. Was he looking for a fight? He’d gotten used to bar brawls with the Z team– but he had been hoping tonight wouldn’t end up that way. However, as if in anticipation, Robert turned towards the man approaching, casually. 

It was like he’d been expecting the man?

“Well well, back here again, are we? You really don’t know how to stay out of trouble, do you, Robbie?” The man regarded Robert like an old friend; he had been watching Robert for awhile, and Robert had gone home with a few of his buddies before, which explained the familiarity with which he spoke to the dispatcher, even though they had never exchanged words until tonight. Only once overs, and silent promises of ‘maybe next time’.

Herm’s jaw tightened, his teeth making an almost cracking noise at the nickname. If this person actually knew Robert, they would know that Robbie was Robert’s father’s nickname– that Robert hated being called Robbie. 

It was evident by Robert’s expression that he was thinking the very same thing. His lip quirked up, more in a scowl than a real smile, and his brown eyes immediately lost the warmth they had whenever he spoke to Waterboy.

“Trouble’s my middle name, Rex,” Robert responded easily, leaning back against the bar as if he was inviting the man’s stares.

What’s that look on his face? Herman swallowed. The dullness of his eyes, the way he was tilting his head like a dog baring its throat…it wasn’t like Robert at all. What is this?

The man named Rex gave him another once over. His eyes were yellow in the dim lighting, glowing the way a dog’s might if it were caught in the headlights of a passing car. His body language was sleazy, his hand already reaching down to cup himself through his black cargo pants as he ran a too-long tongue over the fronts of his sharp teeth.

“Mmm,” he hummed playfully, eyes lingering a little too long on Robert’s crotch for Herman’s liking, “You certainly look like you’ve got the ass to back that up.” His smile widened by a few molars, “Daddy likes.”

Herman’s eyes widened in horror. This guy was the literal definition of a creep. There was no way that Robert was…

He turned his head and watched the way Robert’s body moved like it was a puppet on a string, the movements unnatural to someone who knew him as well as Herman did. The smile he wore lacked any humour, his eyes faded to day-old-office-coffee.

“You wanna take me home?”

The loud thump of metal on wood was startling, and it took Herman much longer than he would have expected to realise that he was the one who had made the sound in the first place. His hand was on the stool next to him, having bodily dragged the piece of furniture into the space between Robert and the other man.

Robert glanced up at him with a frown, “You good, kid?”

“We w-were talking,” Herm said firmly, grey eyes narrowed in Rex’s direction.

Rex’s grin turned into a sneer, “Yeah?” he huffed, giving the taller man a once over, “You his chaperone or somethin’?”

“Herm?” Robert’s voice had an edge of warning to it.

“He is-isn’t going home with you,” Herm grunted, straightening his spine with a frown.

Rex let out a disbelieving scoff, peering around Herman’s lanky frame like he was merely another obstacle in the way of getting what he wanted, “Looks like your friend says otherwise. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Baby? Herman felt something hot and unfamiliar roll up his spine. He clenched his hands into two fists at his sides, hearing the neoprene squeak.

Robert was looking between the two of them uncertainly, some of the colour coming back into his eyes like he had been under some sort of spell. He frowned at his brightly dressed companion before looking away again, “Herm…” he started, “You should go.”

You should go.

Robert might as well have slapped him; Waterboy turned to look at him, a kicked puppy dog expression. Robert quickly broke eye contact, staring into the bottom of his whiskey glass instead. Herman was nice– a good person– he didn’t want Waterboy to see him like this.

Rex’s laugh grated on both of their ears, “Yeah kid, let the regulars talk.”

“R-regulars?” Waterboy eyed the other man, since he seemed the only one willing to divulge information at this point. Not exactly what he wanted– but this was just like any mission that scared him; gather intel– assess. Just like Robert taught him to do. 

Rex leaned back, hand on one hip, giving Herman another look over; it was clear by his sneer that he wasn’t impressed. “Yeah kid– I’ve been coming here for a while now, and of all the familiar faces I’ve seen come and go– this is one who ‘cums’ often,” He said, pointing to Robert, smirking from the double entendre. 

“Shut up,” Robert growled, low and dangerous; an edge of panic just at the end of it, “You don’t need to tell him that.”

“What, don’t want the boyscout to know why you’re really here?”

Robert suddenly stood up, bumping his chest against the others as hard as he could; with his height, he barely came up to the man’s pecs, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to throw his weight around. He managed to make Rex take a few staggering steps back. “I mean it– leave him out of this!” He growled, using his Mecha Man voice to try and intimidate the other. 

Rex seemed to consider him for a moment; for a moment, it seemed like he was actually going to back off, but then Herman put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, and the man jumped like a livewire. Showing he was not as in control of the situation as he wanted to be.

“Robert– I’m not– I’m not a kid. You don’t have to protect me.”

Rex beamed from ear to ear, “Yeah Robbie, if he’s old enough to drink, he’s old enough to know about your little, late night escapades.” He put his hand on Robert’s chest– the hand practically dwarfing him– and pushed the man back into his seat with just a little pressure. Robert slammed back into his barstool, a sharp, winded noise escaping him; the whiskey cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing alcohol onto his hand. 

Waterboy started to rise from his own seat, “Keep your hands off–”

“But he likes my hands on him. He likes everyone’s hands on him, don’t you Robbie boy?”

Waterboy froze, the hot air deflating from his lungs; he slid back into his seat, large eyes sharply watching Rex, “W-What do you mean by that?”

 “What? That your friend’s a little whore who goes on his knees for just about anybody?”

“Stop,” Robert’s fingers curled around his glass; if he squeezed any harder, he was going to shatter it. The strain in his voice was far more wounded; like a last ditch attempt to scare off a bigger, more powerful foe.

Rex pointed towards Robert again, and Waterboy’s eyes instinctively followed, “That he’s hard right now, after getting put in his place?” Sure enough, to the hero’s horror, he could see a bulge in Robert’s pants. Robert looked down at the floor, cheeks red; mouth twisted in a grimace. Shame hung over him like a cloak. “That this is exactly what he comes looking for, every time he’s here?”

“Please...stop,” 

“Tell him Robert– tell him how many times you’ve been here? Tell him how many men you’ve gone home with at the end of the night? Why don’t you tell your goody two shoes friend exactly what you do afterwards– my friends will be happy to corroborate."

Robert didn’t answer.

Rex’s smile turned coquettish, “Tell him how you’ve been flagging me down the last couple nights, signalling me with those doe eyes of yours. Tell him that you knew I was coming over here. That you know what I’m planning to do to you tonight.”

Robert still wouldn’t answer. It was like if he didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge them, he could pretend he was anywhere else.

“Robert?” Herman’s voice sounded so small, so full of concern.

Rex purred, “Mmm, now I don’t see this expression very often; how interesting. It’s almost as cute as your feisty side– maybe even cuter. Can’t decide if I like this shy side yet. Let’s find out: If you can’t bring yourself to admit it, that’s okay. I’ll be happy to lay it all out, right here, right now.”

Robert was chewing on his bottom lip, the flush spreading all across his face even in the shitty bar lighting, making his freckles stand out stark against the warm-toned flesh.

“He’s right, Herm,” he muttered, brown eyes slowly trailing up to meet gray ones, “I…” He let out a sigh that dropped his shoulders, a hand moving through his short bangs and messing it up, “I’m not a good person.”

Rex chuckled, the sound seemingly drawn up from somewhere in his guts, a raspy and horrible sound, “No, you’re not,” he agreed, “Mighty hero, lies on his belly for anyone who asks.” His voice became low and cruel, delighting in the scene he could see unfolding before him, the pained look in Herman’s watery eyes. “Comes to this shady little hole in the wall, to have someone pound his little hole in the wall.”

Herman felt the air escaping through clenched teeth in a tight little hiss, “Stop…stop talking…” The man’s words left him spinning in place; what did he just say? What the hell was he implying about his friend?

“You wanted to know, kid– said you could handle it. What, never imagined one of those people who worked for you guys was the type to spread their legs for the dredges of society? Doesn’t SDN have something called the Phoenix Program: a place to reform villains; is that how you get your recruitments, Robbie–? You let them take you on all fours, and beg them– ass up and full of cum— that they can be part of something greater. Well that’s certainly an effective campaign strategy; I'm sure anyone would feel pretty great after dumping their fat, filthy load inside SDN’s little callboy.”

Robert reeled back, ready to smash his glass over Rex’s head; but the man had already been expecting something like this to happen; he grabbed Robert’s wrist, and forced it back onto the table. The glass slipped from Robert’s grasp, and shattered on the floor. No one even batted an eye; the bar tender looked at the scene, then went back to pouring a drink for another patron at the bar. As if this was just another typical Tuesday.

 Which, to Rex and Robert, was just another typical Tuesday.

“Or maybe you just get sick of dealing with incompetent heroes all day, and need someone to make you feel as disgusting on the outside as you are on the inside.”

Rex stepped forward, slotting his body right against Robert’s; the dispatcher could feel the hard outline of the man’s cock against his thigh. He snarled, and writhed in the man’s grasp, but he was pinned between Rex and the table; leaving him nowhere to run, no space to put between them, and his right arm immobilized. Robert already knew that if he attempted another swing with his left, Rex would anticipate it; his eyes were practically challenging Robert to prove him right.

“Get the fuck off me! You think I can’t kill you?!”

“Mmm, now that’s the face I recognize. Feisty little spitfire– my friends told me all about your little game. Sure, you could kill me– but you won’t. Because this is what you like, isn’t it? Being reminded how powerless you actually are; how you’re just a normal human man; how fragile your life hangs in the balance of those with real powers. You like being helpless.”

It was like drinking straight vodka again; a burning bile filling his throat. 

“You put up a fight– maybe get a hit in here or there, and then you let the other guy beat you into submission. The rougher they are with you, the better. You want to really feel it when they take control away from you.”

“...Fuck…”

“Your life is so pathetic and empty– that being the victim feels good; because at least you feel like, for just that moment, you had meaning to your life. That you were wanted– that you were worth being raped over. That’s what you deserve.”

He wished he had died in that explosion; had died as Mecha Man– died as a failure in that way– instead of living as the failure he was now. Instead of someone he cared– really, fucking cared about— knowing the failure that was Robert Robertson the III.

“That’s why you come here– That’s why you’re still here. And that’s why you’re going to come home with me, aren’t you? Because you’ll cry for anyone who says they’ll love you for a ni-”

The punch connected before Herman had even realised he’d swung.

Rex had been expecting Robert’s anger; he hadn’t known about Herm’s.

The heat of his rage roared in his ears and he used it to push forward, lifting the stool beside him and bringing it up and over his shoulders.

“Shut up!” he screamed and swung the chair down hard.

His vision had turned red. He could barely even see the figure on the floor in front of him, nor the blood pouring out of his clearly busted nose. The metal music still blaring from the awful speakers mimicked his racing heart, screaming inside his head to match his own racing thoughts.

He could hear his name being called like it was another world away.

On another downward swing, the metal stool bent in half– his weapon completely collapsing under the continuous force of his bludgeoning.

Without even stopping, he tossed the broken stool away, and dropped to his knees, tearing into fabric and flesh with his own two hands. He felt like he might be sick right now; everything was burning. Too hot, too angry.

Rex was barely even defending himself anymore, his hands raised up in front of himself as he swore and kicked, trying to fend off the super’s attacks. 

“Herman! Stop!”

Waterboy gasped as if he had just surfaced from the SDN pool, eyes blinking him back to full awareness. He could see Robert kneeling in front of him, the knees of his pants soaking up blood and spilled alcohol. His eyes were wide with some unnamed emotion, staring at him in disbelief.

Herman was breathing hard when he let the other man guide him to his feet again, droplets of his own water cascading down his arms as he tried his best to gather himself. There was a throbbing in his chest now, something aching and painful and red as a hot coal. He looked across at Robert and the man flinched away from him, his dark eyebrows downturned.

He thinks I hate him, Herman realised, But it isn’t that. It could never be that.

Herman reached out a hand, interlinking their fingers together and squeezing tightly.

No one gets to see you like that but me.

He looked down towards the place where Rex was still lying, twitching and choking, and for once, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel guilty about the pain he’d caused. You said those awful things to him, made him feel like he deserved it.

“He’s coming home with me,” he growled.

Robert’s hand in his felt impossibly hot and when it squeezed him back, Herman felt like he might just faint, adrenaline or no adrenaline.

“Okay,” Robert said, allowing the other man to lead him towards the door, stepping over Rex’s recumbent form like he wasn’t even there, “You can take me home, Herm.”

No one moved to stop them, nor did anyone bother to pick the foetal man up off the floor; a typical Tuesday.

Outside, the night air was chilly; it was a relief to Herman who was currently burning up. The hero typically ran cooler, so the heat was a bit of a surprise, though he supposed it was the adrenaline still coursing through him. It didn’t really explain why he was hot and sticky all over; one look down illuminated that answer. 

He was covered in blood. His Hawaiian shirt was drenched a dark, rusty red; there’s no way he’d ever get the stains out of this. His wetsuit, at least, was made of a special material that made most viscouses wash right off it; that was currently happening with the blood splattered there. It trickled off his suit and leaked onto the asphalt, where come morning, the sun’s heat would evaporate it.

The two started walking in the direction of Robert’s apartment. Correction: Robert was walking in the direction of his apartment, and Herman was following closely behind.

Robert had his arms crossed, his shoulders hunched, and head bowed towards his chest. Usually Herman was the one trying to make himself look smaller; Robert was already small. But here, he was trying to disappear entirely from view. A hard feat, when Herman’s eyes were burning holes in the back of his head.

The walk was held in awkward silence, neither able to say what they were thinking. Both minds racing from the events of tonight, but unable to express any of it. 

It wasn’t until they were right outside Robert’s front door, that Robert finally turned around to address the other man, “Listen– Waterboy, can we just pretend like we never saw each other toni–”

Robert found himself suddenly pinned against his front door, caged in on either side by long, lanky arms; a knee pressed between his legs. Robert’s eyebrows rose up in shock, his mouth parting open in a silent question.

Herman was glaring at him; his eyes intense, and so clear, the sharp gray left Robert feeling weirdly exposed.

“Herman, what are you–?”

“You were planning to hook– go home with someone tonight, right?”

Robert turned his head; he didn’t want the man to bring it back up; he didn’t want to have to relive it with Waterboy again. “You already know what Rex said…” His eyes were looking anywhere but at Herman right now, “So, why are you asking?”

Herman was quiet for a moment, so quiet, that curiosity got the better of him, and Robert turned to see what kind of expression the hero was making. The redhead had a look of silent conviction on his face.

“Then, does this mean that I can be the one that you– would you sleep with me?”

Robert hadn’t expected that, a bitten off laugh forced from his lips, “Are you serious, kid–”

Herman’s narrowing eyes, and downturned lips showed that he was, “What's wrong with m-me?”

Nothing, Robert thought, his stomach dropping, You’re perfect.

But Robert couldn’t admit that; it already hurt too much that Herman had seen any of this side of him. To taint this kind man anymore; Robert couldn’t bear the mental strain it would cause. “You heard what he said– you know what I was looking for. And, I’m sorry kid, but you’re…you're too soft. You’re too damn gentle.”

I don't deserve to be touched with such gentle hands. To be held so lovingly. To be adored by you.

Herman leaned in, desperate, “I can be rough!” he insisted.

The way he said it was so much like a child denying his shortcomings that Robert broke into a genuine smile for the first time since they’d left the bar. A softness tinged his gaze; his bemused laughter was held with familiarity and playfulness. Fondness.

“I’m sure you can, bud– but what I want is too intense. It will just scare you away; you’re not like them, those assholes at the bar–”

You won’t hurt me like I deserve.

“I beat a man half– half to death,” Herman still seemed determined to prove his bad boy status.

And god, was that crazy hot. Robert had a feeling that memory was going to show up on more than one lonely night. But that’s as far as it would go. As far as he would allow it to go.

“I know, but you did it to protect me. You did it because you care about me. You won’t hurt me, not even if I asked. You’re just…you’re not capable of doing that, Herm.”

Herman didn’t answer; didn’t deny. Even he knew that what Robert had said was the truth.

“Go home. Get some rest. We can pretend this never happened. Can you do that for me?”

What an asshole move; to use that specific phrase on this wonderfully kind man. If he asked, Herman would listen– he always had. To use it in this way was selfish and cruel– but Robert wasn’t a very good person, as already established.

Herman was quiet for a moment, the furrow in his brow softening; the hard lines smoothing into soft uncertainty.

Then, his eyes met Robert’s: soft, and pleading, “Just one chance. Give me one chance to prove myself…”

“Herman?”

“All I’m asking is for you to sleep with me tonight… if I can’t convince you, then yes; I will leave first thing in the morning, and all of this–” he gestured between them, “--Will be f-forgotten. I’ll never speak of it again. And we can go back to how it was before.”

He laid his hand gently on Robert’s bicep, “But I won’t be able to accept this otherwise, if you send me home now. Things will never be the same again– between us; I’ll never be able to accept what happened if I don't get an ans– if I can’t have closure. So, if you're going to ask me to bury this night– at least let it be because it was a night not worth remembering.”

Robert blinked up at him, the cheap fluorescent lighting of the apartment hallways making his eyes seem so much brighter than they had before. Hopeful. Terrified.

Herm slid his hand down the curve of the muscle, squeezing firmly. That sudden display of strength sent heat swiftly curving down Robert’s spine.

This is a bad idea, he thought, You know this is a bad idea.

His hands found the handle behind him and pulled it down, allowing the door at his back to fall open. The space behind them was endlessly dark and bleak.

“Last chance to change your mind, kid.”

Herman’s hand came forward and Robert stared at it with confusion.

Until that gentle hand shoved.

His already wobbly legs gave out from under him and he hit the floor hard, wincing as he peeled his eyes open again at the sound of his own door slamming. Herman descended on him like a wild cat, all long limbs and teeth, and he pressed him down with a strength Robert had always known he had possessed but had never seen before. Surprisingly sharp canines were already at his throat, the tongue that accompanied them wet and cool against his superheated skin. 

Robert gasped, hands flying out to grasp the other man’s shoulders, “Herm, shit, what are you-”

A knee slipped between his legs again, just on the right side of forceful, and Robert let out a whimper, his hips automatically bucking into it.

“Is this the side of you they get to see, R-Robert?” Herman’s voice was deeper than Robert had ever heard it, right next to his ear, “Your s-skin flushed, your heart ra-racing?”

A humiliated heat rushed to the smaller man’s ears and he squeezed his eyes closed. His legs were closing around Herman’s, the evidence of his arousal pressed into a neoprene covered thigh.

“Herm…” he hissed through his clenched teeth, “Don’t, I-”

“You like it when they hurt you.” It wasn’t a question, and so Robert didn’t answer. He writhed whenever Waterboy’s teeth grazed the sensitive point under his wounded ear, his breath already coming out in quick puffs against the other man’s cheek. “You a-act like that’s all you deserve. Like you aren’t worth anything m-more than that.”

His hand reached out, seizing both of Robert’s wrists and forcing them over his head, effectively pinning the smaller man to the floor and making him look at him. Herm could already see the flush of heat spreading over his skin as blood drew to the surface. Could see the little marks his teeth had left.

Robert resisted the motion, pulling futilely against the grasp, but he knew that he was no match for a super like Herman. 

“Let me go, Herm,” he growled.

“You don’t really want me to,” Herman stated, his free hand trailing down across Robert’s jaw, his throat, and resting on the top button of his SDN shirt, “Rex was right about one thing; you do like to put up a f-fight.”

Robert wasn’t able to stop the high-pitched whine that observation drew out of him, even through his clenched jaw. His cock twitched against Herman’s leg, all the evidence the younger man needed to know that his words had hit home.

His long fingers began to open Robert’s shirt, one button at a time, drawing further and further down and exposing more and more of the smaller man to the air. Robert turned away, pressing his cheek into the cold floor of the apartment and Herman’s hand shot upwards, grasping his chin and turning it back, “D-don’t look away,” he demanded, grey eyes almost black when backlit by the lights of the corridor peeking through the spaces in his door, “I w-want you to look at me when I take you apart.”

Robert let out a low, deep rumble, the black of his pupil swallowing up all the colour in his eyes, “Herm…”

Grey eyes fixed firmly on his face as he slowly released his fingers again, “Stay,” he commanded and fuck, if that didn’t go straight to Robert’s dick. This time he groaned in response, merely nodding as Herman’s fingers returned to their earlier task. He tugged the bottom of the shirt out from where it was partially tucked into Robert’s jeans, letting it lie open across the puddle his body was slowly forming underneath the pair of them.

Herman’s eyes traced over every inch of him where he was lying in his shadow, taking in the scars and cuts, both healed and fresh, that covered so much of his tanned skin. There were burn marks too, and bruises in the shapes of a stranger’s fingerprints, and Herman felt that rage and heat rising up inside him again at the sight of it.

The thought that someone else had laid their hands on him…

Someone that wasn’t Herman.

Herman must have let some of what he was feeling show on his face because the man lying under him let out a nervous breath, “Uh, Herm? How you doin’ there, bud?”

Herman reached out, covering the bruises with his own hand, and pressed down hard. Robert let out a surprised moan, arching up into the touch, “Fuck!”

Herman’s lips curled up in a satisfied smile as he pulled his hand back, seeing that his own hand had covered up the marks with bruises of his own. Better.

“H-how far down do these marks go?” Herman asked, hand already brushing down Robert’s shuddering stomach and following the tempting lines of his happy trail.

Robert was still breathing heavily, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at him, “Why don’t you find out, Herm?”

Something sharp coiled in Herman’s guts at the deepness of Robert’s voice, the hoarseness of his tone.

All for me.

“Y-you’ll keep your hands above your head,” he said, leaning in closer to Robert’s face and enjoying the way he groaned as Herman’s leg pressed in harder against his erection, “Do you u-understand, Robert?”

“Yes…” Robert breathed and Herman shifted forward, pressing his thigh against him a little harder and earning him a startled yelp.

“Yes, w-what, Robert?” he pressed.

Robert’s blush had spread out to encompass his ears now as well, “Yes, sir,” he relented, some of the earlier tension in his body starting to unfurl.

“Good b-boy,” Waterboy praised. He leaned back, watching with pride as Robert kept both of his hands exactly where they were, his chest and stomach rising and falling rapidly with his breaths. He pulled off his own bloody shirt and tossed it aside before reaching out and starting to undo Robert’s belt. Without hesitation, he dug his thumbs into Robert’s slender hips and shoved down the rest of his layers, baring him to the cold air of the empty flat. His cock sprung out and smacked against his stomach, red and abused, glistening at the tip and connected to his boxers with a long, see-through thread of precum.

Herman felt his own breath stuttering at the sight. Robert was so beautiful like this; his stomach and thighs muscled from his time spent as Mecha Man, his dick uncut and the perfect size for Herman to just swallow whole.

But that wasn’t what he was here for tonight. Tonight, he was here to make the man beneath him scream and forget all about those other men he had brought home with him before.

Till the only names he remembered were his own, and Herman’s.

Reaching up towards his own face, Herman bit down on the end of a finger, making a show of pulling the white glove slowly off his hand, tossing it to somewhere beyond the light of their own little haven. He did the same with the other one, silvery eyes tracking every micro expression on Robert’s face, and the way his hands stayed obediently in the place that he had put them.

His bare hands ran up both of Robert’s sides evoking a series of shivers that made the dispatcher gasp. Herman allowed his water to flow freely here, claiming the parts of Robert he hadn’t explored yet. It ran in rivers down his stomach, across the V that dipped down towards his cock, to the heat between his legs that twitched restlessly as it was ignored in favour of other, more interesting parts.

“So pretty, Robert,” Herman cooed, unable to fully escape the way his heart fluttered at the sight of the other man bared like this. His hands travelled up until they settled at his waist, his fingers reaching to either side.

He’s so small, Herman observed, I never noticed before. I bet I could close my hands all the way around him…

Whenever his fingers met, baring down tight on the man’s core, Robert let out a loud groan, his hard cock squirting precum excitedly across the backs of Herman’s hands. Herman pulled him down roughly against his wetsuit, his cock pressing against Robert’s ass through the material like a battering ram against a castle gate.

“Jesus Christ, Herm,” Robert swore, throwing his head back, “The fuck? Where have you been hiding that?”

Herman rutted against that soft, naked curve for a moment longer, his breaths tumbling out of his parting lips at the tingles of heat it evoked in his guts, “A g-gentleman never tells,” he teased.

He thrust forward, hands pulling Robert’s whole body down to meet the movements. The neoprene rubbed against his damp skin, burning little red marks into the sensitive flesh wherever they met.

Marks that the other villains could never hope to replicate.

Snatching up the backs of Robert’s legs, he abruptly bent the man in on himself, pushing forward so his face was mere breaths away from Herman’s. He could smell the sweetness of the alcohol he’d been drinking, could almost taste it on the fumes of his out-breaths, and Herman licked at the air with a grin, shoving his clothed cock hard against him and making him gasp and moan in the vulnerable position. Robert opened his mouth in reflex, as if waiting for Herman to close the gap between them, but he didn’t.

“A-ask me for it,” Herman said.

“Please,” Robert whined, face growing hotter with shame. He swallowed down some of the moisture that was building in his mouth, “Fuck, please kiss me, Herm.”

“Do you thi-think you deserve it?” Herman pressed.

Robert’s brown eyes went wide, the answer falling from his lips without a thought, “No.”

Herman squeezed the backs of Robert’s knees tighter, leaning more of his weight onto him. Robert’s breath fluttered, half-caught in his lungs as it tried to escape, “H-Herm,” he stuttered, “I-I can’t breathe like this.”

“Then tell me you deserve it,” Herman pressed, rolling his hips forward so Robert could feel his hard length through his wetsuit, “Tell me you’re a good boy that deserves to be k-kissed.”

Real fear appeared in Robert’s eyes as he shook his head, “Herm, I…I can’t, I-”

“You can and you will.” Herman’s eyes had grown steely where they stared down at him, his thumbs gently tracing paths along the backs of his legs, soothing, gentle, “Say it, Robert.”

Say you’re my good boy and I’ll give you the whole world. I’ll make you cum and scream and beg to be put on your stomach. I’ll make sure no one else ever touches you again.

Robert choked on his next breath, moisture clinging to his long, dark lashes. He could feel Herman’s hands moving along his skin, caressing every inch of him. His body came alive under that touch, as if the dormant parts of him were seeking out the pinpricks of sensation from Herman’s damp palms, the feeling of water that followed after his every caress. The powers that washed everything clean.

“I…” he started again, staring at those bright eyes for so long he thought he might drown in them, water filling up his airways, his lungs, his everything. His voice was trembling with emotion and lack of oxygen, his eyes rolling back desperately as he finally gave in and wheezed, “I deserve for you to kiss me, Herm.”

Herman’s smile turned gentle for a moment, pride swelling in his chest, before he schooled his features– he had to stay assertive, stay in control. He couldn’t give in to that sweet smile, not until he was sure that Robert would surrender to his affections. Would accept his kindness.

“Again.”

Robert’s mouth fell open in shock; he glared weakly up at the other through watery eyes, “I already said it– don’t make me–”

Herman ground his hips hard against Robert’s ass; his cock straining through the material and rubbing over Robert’s pucker. Robert gasped, body lurching, both from the pressure around his hole, and from the cold bite of Herman’s zipper taunting him to what was just out of reach.

With a defeated sigh, Robert’s head slumped to the floor, cheek pressing against hardwood; “Please, please. I deserve a kiss. Please Herman– I’ve been a good boy for you, haven’t I? So please, give it to me.”

Herman leaned down, “That’s more– better; much better. Good job.” He pressed his lips firmly to Robert’s, finally giving in to both their desires. So long; he had wanted this for so long– and it was just as delicious as he dreamt it would be. Robert tasted like Whiskey, but also a little sugary; like one of the many snacks Robert loved to munch on during work. A bit like vanilla; like the cream inside a twinkie. The thought of Robert sucking the sweet, frothy cream off his fingers brought a low rumble up Herman’s throat. 

Bringing to mind images of other creamy textures he wanted to see on Robert’s tongue.

He licked Robert’s bottom lip, and the man opened instantly to allow him in. Warm, wet heat coiled together; the two breathing heavily through their noses.

Robert’s fingers twitched; he wanted to wrap his arms around the other’s neck, and deepen their kiss; grip those wet curls at the base of Herm’s neck, and pull like a man possessed, but he remembered Herman’s condition. He needed to stay still– behave. Be good.

A dark thought flitted across his semi consciousness; what would Herman do if he started to fight back? Herman had sworn to prove himself, to prove he could give Robert the thing he wanted– so if Robert started to push back– if he intentionally disobeyed— would Herman be able to follow through with a punishment? Would he be able to rein Robert in? Or would he finally realize that this wasn’t worth the effort– that he wasn’t worth this much trouble?

Just as he thought to test his theory, Herman suddenly pulled away, fixing him with a pointed look, even as saliva dripped comically from his chin, “Don’t even– think about it.” His hand came up, tweaking one of Robert’s nipples; the man arched his back, inhaling sharply.

“Fuhh-ck!” His mouth went slack; a bead of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.

“Pretty thing– look so f-fucked out of your mind– and I’ve barely even– even started.” Herman leaned forward, kissing the corner of Robert’s mouth, and licking the drool up. When he pulled away, he had a very puckish smile on his face.

“How did you know– I was gonna–”

Herm’s other hand stroked along the side of his ribs, pulling a breathy laugh from the dispatcher’s lips. “I could feel your muscles–flexing– contracting. I had a feeling you were gonna do something naughty.”

Herman knew him too well; that thought was both terrifying– and comforting.

Herman continued, pressing wet kisses along Robert’s jawline; enjoying the soft bristles against his own clean shaven skin. He slowly made his way down Robert’s throat, nipping and sucking a trail of hickies after each one, “I know you think you’re a bad boy– that you deserve to be punished. That if you misbehave, I’ll give up on this– on you.” He rolled the hardening nipple between his fingers, delighting in the little whimpered reactions that followed, “--It looks like I have to stop you before you can even try to be anything less than– than my good boy.” 

Robert keened; he hated how needy he sounded, how Herman’s words were making him feel. And he couldn’t hide those reactions when he was lying bare beneath the other; the flush that was starting to spread up his ears, and down his chest. Or the fact that his cock was dripping messily over his stomach, twitching and pulsing every time Herman opened his mouth. 

How he was almost completely naked– save for his open shirt that was soaked beneath him– while Herman was still entirely dressed, playing coy while he had that between his fucking legs. How he knew exactly what he was doing– what he could be doing, and what he wasn’t doing, all to rile him up. And how it was working. Robert could do nothing to get beneath that suit, to take the monster that lurked below, to give into depravity, lust, those long, explorative fingers, and toothy smile beneath kissably infuriating lips– unless he was willing to throw away his pride, and beg for it. 

Willing to be good for Waterboy, and let this man take him in ways he’d never been with another.

Suddenly Herman’s promise of breaking Robert tonight felt tangible, obtainable. Real. 

“Now then, let me show you what a go-good boy you are, Robert Robertson.”

Herman slid his hands along Robert’s bent legs, uncoiling him from his previous position with a gentleness that made something in the dispatcher’s chest ache desperately. He gritted his teeth as Herman slipped away from him, crouching just out of his reach. He tapped on the zipper of his wetsuit with a neatly manicured nail. The sound it made was temptation incarnate, a tortuous tap, tap, tap that echoed behind Robert’s eyes.

“C-can a good boy use his teeth on me?”

Robert’s eyes went wide as he sat himself up, leaning forward to rest his hands on Herman’s thighs. The redhead sucked on his teeth, his lips quirking up in a dark smile Robert had never seen on him before. His cock twitched with interest.

“O-only your teeth.”

Robert searched his face for a moment as he slowly retracted his hands, “What do you-”

“Behind your back,” Herman explained, “Imagine I’m hold-holding them back.”

Robert tried his best to swallow but his throat felt impossibly dry right now. He reached behind himself, pressing both his own wrists together, palms facing away from his body, “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Herman’s grin was something feral, a wildness filling his silvery eyes, “Now open your mouth for me, Robert.”

Robert did so without a second of hesitation and Herman felt himself leak into his wetsuit. Fuck, the sight of the older man like this, submissive as a kitten but flushed as a whore in church…

He groaned as his hands took hold of Robert’s jaw, guiding him towards his zipper, “Bite,” he commanded and Robert did, his teeth clicking quietly as they seized the tag, “Now, l-let your body go. I’ve got you.”

At first Robert seemed to instinctively resist the motion, the muscles in his back and shoulders flaring in the half-light, then, slowly, he breathed out all the tension through his nose and allowed Herman to guide him forward and down, down, down.

The silver zipper followed the track like a train, splitting the comically bright suit in two and revealing the shiny, wet skin that was hiding underneath. Robert groaned through his teeth, cock throbbing as all of his dirty workday thoughts rushed to greet him at once; he had always wondered what Waterboy might look like beneath his suit. The outfit was form-fitting, but apart from the lip of a pair of boxershorts, or the strap of a tank-top, it hid most of what interested Robert from view. This, this was…

Robert could feel his saliva trickling down his chin. He felt like a hungry dog, patiently waiting for its master’s word before it could eat.

And god, if he was going to eat his fill.

By the time the zipper hit the metal bottom of the track, Robert’s face was buried in the other man’s crotch, the soggy fabric of swim shorts pressing into his cheek and teasing along the little pricks of his unshaven face. He could smell the scent of Chlorine and heat, and before he knew it he was lapping at the material in front of him with his tongue pressed out as far as it would go.

Herman grunted above him, a low and masculine sound that sent fire to Robert’s intestines. His hands were still holding Robert’s face tightly where he had bent over, his hands tied behind his back with invisible rope as he sat on his folded legs.

Herman felt the heat of the man’s breath bathing his cock through his clothes and he wanted nothing more than to see what he would look like with it spreading his pretty pink lips open.

“Y-you want it that badly?” he asked, his own breaths starting to quicken at the sight before him.

Robert looked up at him with those stunning chestnut eyes of his, laying the flat of his tongue firmly against the concealed cock, “Please,” he begged, nuzzling against the twitching length, “I’ve been good, haven’t I, Herm? Good boys deserve to be rewarded, don’t they?”

Herman’s thumbs traced gentle little lines across Robert’s cheeks, brushed over the black bags under his eyes from hours spent working hard behind his desk and in his mech suit. To have someone so incredible under him like this, hot and wet and wanting, well, Herman was a hero, wasn’t he? He couldn’t very well not help the man, especially when he was asking so very nicely.

“Go ahead, my good boy. Enjoy your reward.” Herman finally conceded; pulling his arms through the sleeves of his wet suit, and letting the material bunch around his lap.

Finally given express permission, Robert sobbed with relief. He buried his face into the wet material of Herman’s swim trunks, nosing at the hem until he was successfully able to grip it between his teeth. With another whine, he dragged them down lithe hips. Herman’s cock sprung from its confinement, smacking across Robert’s face with a wet plap; it landed hard and heavy enough to startle a moan out of the other man, releasing the trunks with a wet snap.

Herman’s cock lay over the right side of his face, hard, veiny, and dripping. A trail of precum clung from the angry red tip, and split in two; one resting on a lock of brown hair curled over Robert’s face– the second just below his eyebrow, forcing the older man to squint. The smell of sex and chlorine filled his nose, so concentrated that his nosehairs burned.

“Fuck– fuck me, Herm.” He nuzzled the underside; earning a low moan, and a rock of Waterboy’s hips, thick cock sliding across Robert’s face. It was degrading– it was delicious. He turned, brushing his lips over the delicate skin, before desire turned him desperate, and he started licking along the base like he was eating a quickly melting popsicle.

Herman shivered; threading long fingers through Robert’s bangs, he tightened his grip, and pulled the older hero’s head back. Robert whined at the loss of Herman’s weight on his face, still kitten licking the air, hoping to catch even a sliver of skin or sweat on his tongue. He could see the full thing better, at least; Herman’s cock no longer a blurred monstrosity. Now he could see the veiny, thick cut in all its glorious detail. Thick at the base, it swelled and curved, before tapering off into a narrow cockhead, drooling translucent pre from the gaping slit.   

“Look at you– can’t get enough. Are you always– always this desperate?” His voice was teasing, but there was a dark, jealous glint in his eyes. The thought of others seeing Robert like this– Well, that wasn’t going to be happening anymore. Not if he could help it.

He was determined to be the last one that Robert ever begged for.

Wrapping his free hand around the base of his cock, he tapped the head against plush, kiss-bruised lips– each smack making a deliciously loud whapping noise in the quiet entryway. 

“Can I–” Robert asked, breathing heavily as Herman continued to smack his cock against his lips. “Please— I wanna suck–I wanna suck on it. Please, let me suck your cock. I want it inside me. Fuck– Waterboy, I need it!”

Herman whimpered; gnawing his bottom lip, his eyes watered at the beautiful man staring reverently up at him. The word inside made his balls clench, precum squirting from his tip into Robert’s eye, who had just enough mindfulness to close it before the hot liquid glued his eyelashes together. 

Herman chuckled nervously, gently wiping the slick away with his thumb; “Sorry– you just– god, you’re driving me crazy here, Rob—” As he went to pull his hand away, Robert wrapped his lips around Herman’s thumb, and slurped obscenely. The taller hero froze, mouth falling open in shock; his gray eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Robert stared right back, tongue curling around the digit to make sure he’d gotten every last drop of flavour. 

Something hot and primal lurched through Waterboy’s gut. A sharp purr, that might have also been a growl, ripped through his throat, as he pulled his thumb out of Robert’s mouth; a loud pop echoed behind.

The hand in Robert’s hair tightened, and yanked. Robert’s head fell back in a gasp– which is when Herman shoved his cock past parted lips, and thrusted straight down his throat. Robert gagged, eyes bulging. His nose was squished against the other’s pelvis; the soft red curls of Herm’s pubes tickling his nose. Forgetting himself for a minute, he pressed his hands to Herman’s hips, and attempted to push the man back. Herman held him still; the man could do nothing but thrash helplessly as he choked on the other’s cock; jaw and throat aching from the sudden, unexpected stretch.

Tears raced down his face, mixing with snot as he struggled to breathe. Adrenaline raced down his spine, pooling into an indescribable heat between his legs; clear slick dribbled from his cock onto the floor. His linoleum was so fucked; he just hoped it didn’t leak into the apartment below.

Herman gently caressed his throat, feeling the protrusion under his fingers. He shivered; and his cock twitched, causing the man to gag below him again. “Sshhh, ssssh–” He cooed, soothingly massaging the bulge. “Don’t fight it– don’t fight it, pup. Be my good boy; relax your throat. You need to– you need to relax.”

Robert’s vision flickered; his eyes rolled back into his head, as he momentarily blacked out. Herman’s voice was so lovely, gentle praise to contrast the burning bile threatening to come up. He inhaled shakily through his nose; releasing it in a long exhale the same way. Herman kept massaging his throat, kept encouraging him with stuttered exclamations of consolation.

“Th-that’s it Pup. Taking me so well; just relax your throat– you’re doing amazing, love.”

Robert allowed his mouth to go slack, his throat widening to better accommodate the girth. Difficult a task as it was, he was able to swallow around Herm, forcing back the initial nausea. He glanced up at Herm through dew-dropped lashes, brown eyes swimming pathetically.

Herman swooned, “So pretty— such a pretty boy. See– look at you. You’re doing so well– so good, Mecha Man.” 

Robert shivered; he closed his eyes, focusing only on the sounds, the taste, the feel of Herman.   

Now that Robert had calmed down, Herman pulled his hips back. His cock slid from Robert’s mouth with a slick pop, coated in a thick sheen of saliva and mucus. Robert’s voice was raspy as he coughed.

“Jesus kid– you almost…” He took in another shuddering breath, before wheezing it out again, “You could have suffocated me!” He tried to sound stern; tried to scold the other’s stupidly selfish decision, but he was buckling under his own nerves. The steady leakage between his legs was evidence enough.

“You would have…have bitten my dick off before I could–” Herman said, as if he’d already prepared an answer for this specific accusation. 

And damn, the kid was right; if he truly hadn’t wanted it– he would have stopped him– even if it meant hurting him. And Waterboy had been prepared for that. But it had been completely unnecessary–

Because they both knew exactly what Robert had wanted. This is what he asked for– what Herman had been happily ready to provide. 

“Y…you’re a lot freakier than I thought.” Robert's laugh was gravelly.

“...Have to be…” Herman replied.

Robert lifted a brow, intrigued, “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

Herman guided Robert’s head forward, pressing the tip of his cock against the top of Robert’s lip; pushing them gently open, but not forcing himself any further like before, “--Because I have to make sure– I have to be the only one you’ll ever want.”

Robert nearly collapsed– ready to cum to those words alone. “Fuck— fuck, kid.” He shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. He licked his lips, catching a thick glob of pre off Herman’s slit. He opened his mouth wider, the words “--Fuck me,” falling from his lips. Without even being asked, Robert removed his hands from Herman’s hips, and put them behind his back again, gripping his fingers with the other hand to keep from disobeying again. Instead of a yank, Herman stroked his fingers lovingly down his scalp.

It was even better than when he’d pulled.

Herman pushed his cock back in, about halfway, before pulling out. He did it again, pushing just a little deeper. He continued this way, until he had formed a steady pace— shallowly fucking the older hero’s mouth. He held his jaw in a delicate grip, letting gravity pull Robert up and down along his shaft. The sound of it was wet, water, spit and precum dripping down Robert’s chin and soaking into Herman’s thighs. It was hot, as hot as the inside of Robert’s mouth, burning his skin where it touched.

The sensation of Robert’s tongue along the bottom of his shaft, caressing him, chasing him whenever he pulled back to let the man breathe, was making it very hard for him to keep his pace even. The little huffs of breath against him whenever Robert could steal it was making him lose his mind. His whole body was hyper-focused on the sliding wet heat of his mouth, the barely there brush of teeth, how he practically hummed with submissive energy, his body slack in Herman’s hands.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pulled Robert up again until they were face to face, seeing himself reflected in dark, bottomless pools of black. The older man was flushed, his skin burning hot under Herman’s fingertips, his expression soft and desperate.

He pulled his face in a little closer, his breath ghosting across his lips, “Robert,” he started, swallowing as he felt the other man’s pulse picking up at just the sound of his name on his tongue, “Robert…”

“Kiss me again,” Robert whispered, his voice hoarse and a little pained. His eyes flitted upwards, catching on grey, intensely present, “You wanted to make me yours, right?” That charming little smile that Herman adored so much tugged at the corner of his lip, the same one he wore while dressed in the suit, dressed as Mecha Man, the person Herman had spent much of his teenage years idolising, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Without wasting another second, Herman pulled him in against him, one hand holding the back of his head while the other slipped down to shift his hands, interlocking their fingers together against the curve of Robert’s hip. Their cocks brushed together in the wet heat and Robert let out a weak cry of Herman’s name, hips immediately chasing a repeat of the sensation as Herman fed him his tongue. The kiss was needy, filled with water and whimpers as the two men tasted each other properly for the first time. Robert’s free hand wound itself in Herman’s hair, barely there nails scratching along his scalp like an animal marking its territory. Herman arched back into the feeling with a gasp that opened his mouth for further exploration and he whined as he felt Robert’s tongue tracing the details of his lips, his teeth.

“Fuck, I want you inside me, Herm,” Robert grunted, hips thrusting forward to press against the other man’s length, “Fuck me, please. God, fuck me.”

“No.”

Robert’s eyes went wide, something cold rushing through him at the word. He swallowed, unable to stop the tears springing to the corners of his eyes, “Herm, I-”

“B-beg me to love you…” Herman whispered, leaning in slowly to kiss away each of the tears before they would have the chance to fall, “You deserve to be made love to. So beg me for it.”

The older man’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he stared at him, the colour of his flushed skin deepening. He looked lost, trembling on the edge of something he hadn’t even known he had wanted before, but now felt like he couldn’t go one more second without.

“Fuck, Herm…” He let out a little sound, something self-conscious and embarrassed, as he closed his eyes, “Please…make love to me.”

Herman’s lips pressed tight to his, muffling the sound of his whines. He shivered as the damp hands traced along the muscles of his back before abruptly pulling him to his chest, knees brought to his stomach in a flash, Robert’s arms flailing and finding his neck as he was suddenly lifted into the air.

“Herman!” he yelped, completely caught off-guard, “What the heck are you doing?”

Herman gave him a smile that seemed so much more like himself, soft and a little giddy as he carried him, bridal style, across the living room. Wet footprints followed after them on the floor as Herman reached the shitty, queen-sized mattress that Robert had been using for his bed. He sank down onto his knees and laid Robert down on his back with such care that it made something in Robert’s chest twist and break apart, his hands clinging to each other around the back of Herman’s neck and refusing to let him create any distance between them.

“Hold on,” he hissed, burying his head in the other man’s shoulder, “Shit, Herm, give me a second I’m…I-”

Herman slowly peeled the fingers away, backing up just far enough to see the man before him. He looked like a painting, coloured by the faint moonlight coming in through the patio doors, all blurred edges like a waking dream. His eyes were perfect shades of chocolate brown, his freckles like a painter’s masterwork. Everything about this impossibly broken, frightened man, called to Herman. Somewhere deep inside himself, in a place no one else had ever managed to reach until now.

Mine, he thought, placing his hands on either side of Robert’s slim hips, I want to make you completely, and utterly, mine.

“You’re so b-beautiful, Robert.” Long fingers traced the line of a bruised neck, over the fingerprints and burns on his chest and stomach, to the scars etched into the flesh of abs and thighs and calves.

Robert turned his head away as he worried on his bottom lip, “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Herm.”

Herman’s hand snapped out, grasping his chin and holding him, gentle but firm, “I would n-never lie to you, Robert.” 

The brown-haired dispatcher scoffed, meeting those soft grey eyes with a mix of fear and trepidation, “How can you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice beginning to tremble despite his best efforts, “Like…like I’m worth something.”

“Because you are,” Herman emphasized, “There’s so-so much I like about you, Robert.”

His fingers slid under Robert’s legs, brushing along the parts of him that were the most vulnerable. He was slick and wet there, the skin hot to the touch whenever Herman lingered against the sensitive places he wanted to see more of.

The tip of one finger pushed inside and Robert let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

“And I’m going to show you.”

With his other hand, Herman was pushing a knee towards Robert’s chest, bending the man open as his finger slipped in right to the knuckle. Robert writhed under his touch, cursing under his breath as his body gratefully accepted a second finger as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he hissed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he felt the caress of Herman’s cock against his leg.

“You’re gonna l-listen to every word I s-say, Robert,” Herman continued, spreading his fingers and feeling heat tingling all over his body at the helpless little sounds of pleasure the other man was making under him, “You’re gonna l-listen and you’re gonna know how much you-you’re loved.”

Robert looked like he’d be struck by lightning, like a deer caught in headlights, a rabbit caught in a snare. That word, the one that he both longed for and feared the sound of in equal measure…it felt so dangerous on Herman’s lips.

He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling tears conjured by the raw emotions rolling around like thunder inside his chest, please, he begged internally, please don’t give me a taste of what it might be like. I can’t take it, I won’t survive it if you take it back, if you change your mind.

The fingers were dripping by the time they slipped free from his loosened hole, caressing the smooth skin of his ass in a manner that could only have been described as reverent. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he realised all at once that Herman was waiting for him.

“Herm…”

He trailed the cockhead through the water and slick that was pooling beneath him on the cheap mattress, sticking to the fabric, “Beg me one more t-time, Robert.”

Robert met those grey eyes, like the silver-linings from every dark cloud he had ever had to face, and nodded his head, body shuddering all over, “Please, Herman. Make love to me.”

The first press of Herman against him felt like fire in his guts, his body slowly opening up for the fat head of his cock to intrude on his insides. He threw his head back at the overwhelming press, the flare of body-heat, the fact that every little part of his brain was screaming yes, yes, yes right now. His legs moved as if on autopilot, wrapping around Herman’s hips as he inched his way inside, water dripping along the narrow channel and caressing places inside him no one had ever paid attention to before. 

“I’ve got you,” Herman whispered, pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach; eyes, cheeks, jaw, ear. By the time he had bottomed out, hips pressing Robert firmly into the soggy mattress, Robert felt like he could feel the man burrowed inside his lungs.

“So p-perfect,” Herman praised him, nudging against his nose with the line of his own, “I knew you would be.”

“Herm…” Robert reached out, fingers caressing the sides of the other man’s face, blinking through the tears and really seeing him. Seeing who he had in his bed. I’ve never brought somebody home like this.

“Robert…” Herman shifted forward with a soft gasp of his own, meeting those stunning, blissed out eyes of his, “I l-like the way your voice sounds…first thing in the morning. All sleepy and r-rough.”

Robert felt his face heating up, “W-what?”

Herman thrust in a little harder and Robert moaned loudly, taken by surprise while he was still processing what the younger man had said.

“I l-like how g-good a listener you are,” Herman carried on, his smile impossibly genuine and filled with something Robert was far too scared to name. His hips changed angles slightly and Robert yelped, precum squirting along the bottom edges of his own pecs.

“Fuck, Herm, I….wait-”

Herman’s hands relocated to Robert’s hips, gently brushing over the recent scars he had received from his hook-ups, mapping out the pain that other people gave him while they took their pleasure from his body, “I l-like the stupid little jokes you tell when we're out in the field…” he continued, thumbs petting across the welt in his lower stomach from whenever the Mecha Man suit had blown up in the lab test. He pushed in deeper, feeling him distending from the pressing on his thick cock, “I l-like the way you look at me…like I’m your hero too…just like you have always been mine.”

Robert let out a sob as Herman bottomed out again, tears flowing down both sides of his face as he tried to stop his diaphragm from jerking long enough to take a meaningful breath, “Herman…please, Herman…”

Waterboy’s hands travelled up from Robert’s hips, pulling his legs tighter around him as he leaned in, pressing gentle, chaste kisses to his barely parted lips, “F-from the moment you fixed my t-tie…I think I was in love with you, R-Robert.”

Robert’s hole fluttered around the base of his cock and the man reached up to encircle his neck again, pulling him in close, like he wanted to blur the lines between where one person ended and the other began.

If this is a fantasy, Robert thought, clinging to the other man as he slammed his hips forward and made him leak and squirt into the space between them, please don’t make me wake up. Just for a little bit longer…let me pretend he actually wants me.

Herman groaned as he quickened his pace, chasing the little breathy moans of need that were spilling from Robert’s lips like a prayer. The older man’s touch was igniting every one of his nerves. He felt lightheaded with the feel of him clinging to his body, his insides coiled tight around him like he never wanted to let him leave.

“Kiss me, Herman…” Robert requested, loosening his hold just enough to meet the man’s eyes, panting and gasping every time Herman bottomed out, spreading him open and filling his entire being with heat, pressure, and hunger, “Fuck, kiss me right now.

How could Herman ever deny such a request?

Leaning forward– his cock pressed right up against Robert’s prostate– he used the sharp keen from the other man to press their mouths together, tongue slipping inside Robert’s mouth. Robert’s eyes rolled back into his skull, fingers tangling desperately in wet, red locks. He rocked his hips back into the little thrusts that Herman had switched up to.

The wet slap of skin, water, and precum was echoing off the walls of the still relatively barren apartment; Robert could hear himself– his desperation, his needy pleas and wanton whimpers reverberating back at him. Never had he been forced to confront this weakness; this crack in his armor. He should feel ashamed, acting like some brat right now. Too old to be this whiny. And yet, every whine, Herman greedily sucked it down; moaning his appreciation– like he was grateful. Like Robert was doing exactly what he was supposed to. Like he was exactly what Herman wanted.

…Because he was.

When they finally pulled away; Herman was gazing down at him with this glazed, love-sick expression. “I love the way you taste– what a good– you’re such a good kisser.” He started to bottom out again. Robert’s back arched off the bed, suspended in the air by some invisible thread pulling him taut. “Such perfect lips– they deserve to be appreciated. You deserve to be kissed. Kissed every morning–noon– night. Kisses like yours should be–should be- worshipped.”

A shiver, so deep he could feel it in his bones, shook Robert’s entire frame. When was the last time someone kissed him– just kissed him? Just wanted to kiss him? Most of his bedmates weren’t the romantic type; the only place their mouths would frequent was the space between Robert’s legs, or, on occasion, his neck. But this was the first time in what felt like forever that his lips felt as sore as his lower back. The first time his lips hummed and buzzed as pleasantly as his insides. 

He hadn’t realized how much he craved this feeling; how healing a feeling this was. He felt less broken; less like he was damaged goods—less unlovable. 

It made him yearn for a future where he could wake up every morning to a kiss, and fall asleep to those same lips. A future where he mattered; where someone other than his dog looked forward to his very existence. Coming home to someone else.

Oh god, he wanted that so bad it ached!

His breathing became labored; choking on his own sobs and moans. The coil in his gut was wound so tight; any second it would release. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “Herm– Herman— Herman, shit! I’m— I’m—”

“Close–?” Herman, for once, finished Robert’s sentence. “Me too– you’re so gorgeous– you look so beautiful, bathed in moonlight and– skin shining with sweat. Hair mussed, chest heaving– you t-transcend beauty. I wanna see you– hear you– I want you to let go; let me– let me catch you, Robert.” He wrapped his arms under Robert’s waist, and pulled him into a tight hug, his hips never stopping their trajectory. He was actually, at this angle, hitting even deeper now.

Robert tightened his hands around Herman, pressing their foreheads together; from this distance, it was hard to actually see the other man’s expression– everything a blur. But even through his tears, through his crumbling consciousness, he could feel those sharp gray eyes staring right at him; never looking at anything– or anyone– else. “Hah– hah- hah- HAHH- HERM–HERMAN!” His scream was ripped from his throat at the same time his orgasm tore through him. He convulsed against the mattress, spurting thick ropes of cum across both their stomachs.

“Hahhh! Robert! Fuck! ROBERT!” Herman attempted to kiss him again, but in his delirium, he missed, only catching the corner of the other’s mouth. It was enough though; he came with a piercing whine, his body going still. Robert felt heat quickly filling him up. It felt endless– every time he thought the man was done, his cock would twitch inside him, and he’d feel another pressurized burst of cum squirt against his prostate. It kept him from coming down from his own orgasm; his prostate still being stimulated.

“Fuck– oh fuck! Kid, you didn’t tell me that you could do that with your cock– holy shit, it’s like putting the shower head on massage against my ho-hole.”

Herman panted, “S-sorry… I’m sorry,” He had such an adorably shit-eating grin on his face, Robert wasn’t entirely sure he believed him. But that smile filled his stomach with so many butterflies that all Robert could do was smile adoringly up at him. He laughed raspily, turning his face to properly kiss Waterboy again. Herman moaned against his lips, eager to return the affection as he pressed firmly back into him. 

Finally, Herman’s libido seemed to be flagging; feeling his cock soften inside him. Now that Herman was done, he finally had a chance to catch his breath. 

Even still, Robert had never felt quite so full before; he knew the second Herman pulled out, the flood would pour out of him. Fuck he could feel it leaking down his thighs already.

Why is that so hot?

Without thinking, he reached down and pressed his hand into his swollen stomach, groaning as it sent more mess dripping out around Herman’s cock.

Herman let out a little muffled grunt at that, his soft cock twitching with interest.

Robert dropped his head back, letting out an airy chuckle, “Down boy.”

“S-sorry,” Herman apologised, clearly not sorry in the least. He pressed forward, enjoying the squelch as his cum was forced further into Robert’s loose hole, making the man gasp.

“You are a menace.” Laying back and glaring up at the taller man, Robert looked a mess; all pink and sticky and satisfied. When he pushed a hand through his sweat-damp hair it stuck up in all directions like a duck’s backside. 

Herman snorted, “I g-guess you bring it out in m-me.”

The dispatcher rolled his eyes with obvious fondness, opening his arms out a little nervously, “So, do you like to cuddle or-”

Robert immediately felt the air being compressed from his lungs as Herman sprung forward, still buried inside him, and nuzzled into the space between his neck and his shoulder. He chuckled, affection washing over him like a gentle, rolling tide, “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Herman’s answering giggle made his heart flutter unexpectedly, the previously dominant man curled up against him like a kitten, practically purring whenever Robert pulled him closer, hands working through ginger curls.

“This is lov-nice,” the younger man sighed, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth of their combined body-heat, “I really like holding you like this.”

Robert’s fingers held on just a little bit tighter. He cleared his throat, feeling Herman’s gentle heartbeats against his stomach, “This is usually the part of the night where I’m trying to figure out how to get home.”

Herman peeled himself up to look at him with a concerned frown, “Wait, so you don’t bring people here?” he started, studying his face with large, grey eyes. At the soft shake of Robert’s head, he continued, “So…where do you go, then?” His chest felt a little lighter knowing that Robert hadn’t brought any of his past flings back to his apartment; just him. 

Just him. That feeling of gratitude grew into a warm ball, stuck in his throat. He swallowed it down; the warmth dissolving like a bath bomb inside him, coating his stomach lining.

Robert averted his eyes, “To a motel? Their place?” He released a breath, “The bathroom at the bar.”

There was no judgement whenever he looked back at Herman, just the face he made whenever he was listening attentively.

Just like how he looked in the janitor’s closet when I gave him that pep talk.

“That m-must’ve been lonely.”

Robert gave him an unsure smile, “Honestly? Wanna know what I missed the most?”

Herman cocked his head at him, “What?”

“Beef,” Robert admitted quietly, his fingers drawing little patterns along Herman’s bare shoulders. He’d never noticed how nice his shoulders were before; broad, strong enough to carry the weight of so much, “I’d leave him off at Chase’s before I’d head out. Didn’t like the thought of him seeing me like that. Didn’t like leaving him here alone, knowing it might be hours…maybe even a day, before I could make it home.” 

Herman’s frown was a small thing but it spoke volumes. Made Robert’s stomach tie in knots with unspoken feelings.

“You know it’s kind of funny…” Robert started again, his other hand stroking the bedsheets beneath him with something kind of like disbelief, and something like wonder, in his eyes, “I’ve never brought anyone back here before– well, anyone like…that, you know. Never intimately.”

Herman blinked back his obvious surprise, “N-no one? Not even someone you’re d-dating?”

The older man shook his head, “I…I never wanted to before.” Brown eyes met grey, “I guess that makes you special, huh, Hermie?”

Of all the things that they’d done tonight, that was the thing that made steam billow out from the top of Waterboy’s head. His face flushed and he moved to cover his eyes with a hand, letting out a shy squeak.

He felt Robert’s stomach jerking under him as the man laughed, “Where did confident Hermie go?” he teased, “You were like some big, scary dom just a minute ago.”

“I-I used it all up,” Herman squeaked, “H-hearing you say that I’m…that I’m special…” More steam filled the air around them and Robert waved a hand through the air to disperse it.

The brown-eyed man pulled himself up to press a kiss to Herman’s forehead, “You’ve always been special, kid. At least to me.”

Whenever Herman squirmed under him, he felt his cock slipping free and the copious amounts of cum and bodily fluids beginning to trail down his thighs towards his poor bedsheets. He let out a groan and reached down, stuffing himself with three of his fingers to keep the mess contained, “Uh, Hermie? Buddy?”

Herman’s eyes tracked the movement of the other man’s hand. He swallowed very loudly, “Uh, yes, R-Robert?”

“Now might be the time for a shower,” Robert said, nodding his head towards the ensuite, “I, uh, only have like one spare sheet left.”

“Oh, right, yes, okay!” Herman stumbled over himself as he got to his feet, practically racing towards the bathroom at Robert’s request, leaving the other man bent over himself and trying to keep from ruining the duvet. He could feel the thick loads of the other man’s seed around his fingers, dripping down across his knuckles and fought the urge to bring his hand up for a taste. He was exhausted, his body aching for the relief of hot water and sleep, and the idea that Herman might stay over, might hold him where others had always left him cold and alone…

He let out a soft oof as the tube of toilet roll collided with his stomach and he pulled off a wad to keep Herman’s offering where it belonged, looking up at the adorable mess of a man standing in his doorway, backlit by the shitty yellow light of the ensuite.

Like this, with the glow cast down on him, Robert could swear the man looked like a fucking angel.

After a night cruising– it wasn’t unlikely that he would wake up alone in a torn and blood-stained motel bed, back aching, along with any other parts of his body that his partner had decided was their favorite to abuse; cash carelessly tossed on the dresser drawer to pay for damages done to the room– if they were kind enough to even leave that.

Left to clean himself up, left to put himself back together.

So when Robert woke up in his bed, alone, he was a little confused– at first. 

He woke up wet, that’s the first thing he noted. Wet and cold; he shivered as the morning air sent a chill up his skin. As he went to pull the sheets up over his chin, he realized how damp the material was. Ah, that’s right– he and Waterboy had–. 

He turned over, expecting to find the lanky, wet form of Waterboy sleeping beside him, maybe with his limbs splayed out in funny directions; when you’re that gangly, you probably have to make yourself fit in any way possible. A smile tugged on his face at the thought.

The bed was empty.

The smile dropped from his face immediately. He sat up, ignoring his back muscles protesting loudly. He laid his hand in the indent where a body clearly had been. It didn’t even feel warm.

“Waterboy?” Robert pulled the sheets off himself, struggling to stand. “Hey kid, where you at?” He tried to keep his tone steady; the man was probably just in the bathroom. However, when he stepped out of his bedroom, and peered around the corner, he saw the bathroom door was open, and the lights were off. His eyes flashed to the kitchen island; no one. His head swivelled towards the patio porch. Still no Waterboy. There wasn’t anywhere else to look– this place wasn’t very big to begin with.

Herman was gone. He was alone.

“Heh…” He stumbled backwards, until he was standing on his mattress on the floor; that’s when his legs gave out. He slumped to his knees, the mattress oozing with the water it had sopped up throughout the night… It felt disgusting under his knees.

“He left…”

‘You deserve to be made love to. So beg me for it.’

“You’re so b-beautiful, Robert.”

‘I would n-never lie to you, Robert.’

“There’s so-so much I like about you, Robert– and I’m going to show you.”

All those pretty promises, whispered in the small space between them, before their lips touched; all those empty promises whispered in his damaged ear. Saying exactly what needed to be said– saying exactly what Robert had wanted to hear.

He put his head in his hands and laughed; this dry, humorless snort.

“Holy shit, this is actually happening, isn’t it?”

‘I can be rough!'

‘Just one chance. Give me one chance to prove myself…’

Robert had foolishly given him his chance, and you know what–? Color him impressed; Robert didn’t think the kid had it in him.

But he had done the impossible. He had thoroughly taken Robert, twisted him up, broke him in half; completely ravished him— and then left him bleeding on the floor to pick himself up the morning after. And by god— give the man an award; this was probably the blue ribbon of morning afters. Nothing had ever compared; nothing would ever compare to this feeling right now.

He was confidently convinced that Herman would never hurt Robert– that the man was incapable of such cruelty.  

Shame on Robert for doubting him.

He couldn’t really blame anyone but himself; He got exactly what he wanted. He had asked for this. This was just what he had expected to happen to him last night. 

This was exactly what he deserved.

“Damn kid, you really showed me—” He wrapped his arms around himself; if he was trembling, he could easily blame it on waking up cold and damp. That’s why he was shaking. That’s why he felt so bone tired. He was catching a cold. That’s why his face was so feverish.

That’s why his eyes burned. That’s why his teeth were chattering.

He was just getting sick.

This empty hole in his chest had always been here– what are you talking about?

‘Because I have to make sure– I have to be the only one you’ll ever want.’

Well, Herman had been correct: he was never going to want anyone else after this.

The world could have imploded; his roof could have collapsed on top of  him– he wouldn’t have noticed. His world had shrunk to the size of his queen-sized mattress– there was nothing beyond that. He vaguely heard what might have been a door opening, but it was beyond his mattress; therefore, it didn’t exist.

More than anything, he wished Beef was still here. The loneliness for his furry companion had tripled in urgency. It was one thing to wake up alone in a foreign place. It was another to wake up in a familiar place that no longer felt familiar. Without Beef, this wasn’t home. 

…This place was never going to be his home– how stupid could he have been? Suddenly the thought of not wanting to bring his hook-ups back here felt silly. Why had he been so worried, when this place was no better than the sleazy motels he frequented– hell, even the motels had more furniture than he did. This place was just another shit stain that he’d let himself be defiled in. Maybe that’s the lesson Waterboy wanted to teach him: It didn’t matter where he went– nothing would ever be good, because he was there.

Tink Tink Tink—

The jingle of something familiar. Robert lifted his head; wondering if he’d imagined it. He had wanted so badly to see the one person who (apparently) would never judge him, that he was now hearing things.

Tink tink tink—

The door creaked open, as Beef’s little face poked through; his tongue was lolling out in its usual dopey grin.

“...Beef?” he croaked, unable to believe what he was seeing. What was Beef doing here?

At his name being called, the chihuahua started to squeeze through the door, an effort that took the little chungus a bit to complete. But the moment he had passed the threshold, he was bounding over to Robert, hopping up on the mattress to give his naked owner a bunch of slobbery, hello kisses. 

Robert picked him up, pressing his nose to Beef’s wet nose; he sniffled, “Hey bud—It’s really good to see you. Daddy’s not doing so well.”

Just as the words left his mouth, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Wait, who else was here?

The answer should have been obvious, and panicking, he threw the blanket over his lap to keep some of his modesty.

He usually picked Beef up from Chase’s house– allowing himself to mentally and physically prepare. Why had Chase brought him back– Robert hadn’t even called to let him know he was available. 

He didn’t want his friend– his uncle– to see him in this state; Chase was going to take one look at him and know something was up. And what was he supposed to say– what would he tell him? How could he even explain the events that transpired. Chase always gave him a disapproving look before he left his house— Robert knew that Chase had an inkling that Robert was doing something reckless. And while his disapproval was apparent, Robert was an adult who made his own decisions– so Chase held his tongue.

But if he actually saw Robert in the aftermath– the man was never going to leave him alone.

“Chase– wait man, I’m not dece–” he started to say, just as the bedroom door swung open.

Waterboy.

Robert froze, words dying on his tongue as he stared at the redhead standing in the entryway, holding a soggy box of Granny’s donuts, with Beef’s leash wrapped around his wrist.

“Oh– hey– you’re awake!” Herman looked surprised to see Robert awake; he smiled shyly, cheeks turning a soft pink at having been caught. “Sorry, I figured you’d still be so– tired– and would like to sleep in. I went and got don– breakfast.”

“...You’re here…” Robert mumbled.

“I’m here,” Herman replied. He stepped into the room, wiggling the box of the donuts temptingly. “With donuts,” he added, as if Robert hadn’t noticed them.

To be honest, it had been the furthest thing from his mind.

“You’re still here…”

“Yeah,” Herman’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering why the man was repeating himself. It was then that he really looked at Robert, and his expression fell, “Robert— what’s wrong– are you okay?” He quickly closed the distance it took to get to Robert’s bed; he sat down cross legged, and set the box of donuts on the floor next to him. Beef, sniffing the air, started to waddle towards the box, before Robert picked him up again, cradling him against his chest to keep from eating them. 

Waterboy reached out, tenderly cupping Robert’s face. “What’s going on– are you—? Did I do something wrong?”

The hands, despite being wet and clammy, felt incredibly warm and comforting. Robert closed his eyes, exhaling from deep inside himself. When he opened his eyes, he was ashamed to admit that they were glistening with the tears that he’d been barely suppressing. 

“You weren’t here– I thought you...I thought maybe you changed your mind. I thought you realized this wasn’t what you wanted and you– and you decided that this wasn’t a night worth rememb—”

Herman pulled Robert forward, nuzzling his nose against Robert’s, “Shhh,” he soothed. The action was so weirdly tender and innocent, that Robert couldn’t contain the watery chuckle that morphed into a sob. As his tears started falling, Herman attempted to wipe them away with his thumbs, though it just made Robert’s cheeks wetter as he spread the moisture across his face. His intentions were still appreciated. 

“I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to not be he-here when you woke up. I know how sensitive you are– must be feeling right now– I never meant to exacer-exacer- make it worse. I thought I’d only be gone a little– but Chase wanted to talk to me and–”

“Chase?” Robert asked, raising a brow.

Herman nodded, looking sheepish. “You told me how you wished Beef could have been with you last night. So this morning– I called Chase, and asked him to meet– meet me at Granny’s, and bring B-beef.”

“You went to get Beef, for me?” Robert asked, stunned.

Herman nodded, looking guilty, “Sorry– was that– I was out of line, wasn’t I?” Chase had said something to a similar effect. The man had given him the third degree about his intentions with Robert– as well as, weirdly, a pep talk. Like he was rooting for him, while also threatening to castrate him if Herman hurt his brother-come-nephew. He kept that part to himself.

But Robert shook his head; he pulled on Herman’s sleeve, until the man was up on the bed with him too. “I just can’t believe you did all this– for me.”

He couldn’t wrap his head around Herman still being here; couldn’t wrap his head around Herman doing all this for him. Protecting him, taking him home, embracing him— loving him. Herman’s words once more replayed through his head; it hadn’t been mocking– it had been the honest truth. 

Herman had meant everything he told Robert last night. 

As Robert cradled Beef, Herman wrapped his arms around Robert, sliding in behind him and coaxing him to lean back into his chest. Robert went willingly, sinking bonelessly in the younger man’s arms, “I would never— never– want to forget last night. This is a dream come— this is everything I could possibly want,” Herman admitted.

“Really? This? …Me?” Even now he couldn’t help getting one last self deprecating punch in. “You want this old, badly damaged, sarcastic, jaded, stitched-together amalgamation of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams and daddy issues? This is the person you wanna spend your time with– your life with? This is the pinnacle of happiness for you?”

Herman tipped his chin back to force Robert to meet his eyes. “Yes– this is everything I’ve ever wanted, Robert. I want you. Every last part of you– that’s what I wanted to show you– what I was trying to convey to you last night. I’ve always wanted you.”

And as those grey eyes stared into his– he saw no deceit, no deception. They were just as honest as they had been last night, just as intense. He was serious. 

He hadn’t even stuttered. He was serious about liking Robert. About wanting Robert.

“So this– you really wanna do this? With me? You really want to—” He didn’t even know how to describe what this was between them.   

Fingers stroked the crown of his head, dampening his locks. “I would like to be your boyfriend, Robert Robertson,” Herman finished, saying the words that Robert had thought to be unspoken. Words that didn’t feel like they were meant for him. Here was someone who disagreed— who thought he was just as worthy as anyone else. Here was someone who wanted to prove him wrong– here was someone who had proven him wrong.

“I’m a hot mess—” He whispered, one last ditch effort to give the hero an out, even as he was leaning in, eyes falling closed.

“Good thing I have water powers then— and that I was a janitor. It looks like this job was made for me. ” Herman whispered, closing the gap between them.

Robert didn’t know how he was going to get used to this; but he did know one thing: 

“My hero,” He breathed softly against Herman’s smile.

He wanted it more than anything.