Chapter Text
It was a haphazard proposition; a sudden idea on pure impulse.
They had looked into each other's eyes, sitting next to each other on Flambae’s couch, both harboring a unique species of uncertainty.
For Flambae, he’d never offered up such a private aspect of himself to anyone. He’d sported bandages the same color of his skin and dealt with any overproduction on his own. Turned out being born with superpowers also came with the luxury of sporting any number of genetic anomalies. It was his best kept secret. A sign of weakness to him. Nobody could know.
But Robert had a terrible day. Stuff that wasn’t work-related, he had said when they first sat down. He held it all inside, everything except for the barely choked out admission that the lollipops and candies he frequently indulged in never really served to sate his sweettooth. Flambae and Robert… they were something like friends now. And Flambae… he was something of a hero.
Heroes did good deeds for their friends.
That’s how they ended up here, with Robert assuming a spontaneously negotiated position, upper body cradled in Flambae’s arms, head supported by Flambae’s bicep, the rest of his person laid across the couch. Robert in every sense of the word, looked nervous. The levels of nervousness that had Flambae wondering if he was going to either throw up or piss himself. His hands shook where he kept them laid across his midsection, eyes darting everywhere in the living room except for Flambae’s face. His ears and cheeks were wine-red, a pinch in his brow Flambae immediately recognized. Shame. With that, he was all too familiar.
So, wordlessly, he lifted up his muscle shirt and tucked it in on itself so it would stay in place, revealing his shapely, broad chest to Robert. An invitation. The usual bandaids that covered him were absent. He was home, not doing anything active, so the friction against fabric was of no consequence. Ever since the genetic anomaly presented itself, the chest hair on his pecs had significantly thinned out. It was still there, but nowhere near as prominent and rich. He watched Robert’s throat bob when he dared to look at the revealed skin, saw him worry the buttons of his SDN shirt religiously.
“It’s okay,” Flambae said in a low voice, and meant it, because he’d already surrendered to the absolute fragility of the moment. “You don’t have to worry about hurting me.”
Robert exhaled shakily and gripped his shirt, screwing his eyes shut. Flambae fought against the part of his mind that found that cute. They were friends. Assholes to each other usually, but friends nonetheless. He couldn’t misconstrue this as something more than it was, even if the impulse was purely subconscious and just barely within his control.
“That’s not-” Robert began, then visibly started biting the inside of his mouth. “It’s just… this won’t change things for you?”
Those droopy, profoundly brown eyes finally met Flambae’s, the anxiety palpable within them.
Flambae pointedly leaned back against the couch, strengthening his hold on Robert’s upper body. A little sound left the other man, maybe of surprise? He didn’t know. But the movement was meant to communicate relaxation. See? I’m calm about this. Everything’s cool.
The truth was, yes, it would change things. Forever, probably. But to Flambae, the proposition was something of a necessity. An act of kindness. A demonstration that he could in fact, do a good deed. If that was meant to change things between them, then he welcomed that change readily. So, instead of answering Robert’s question directly, he enveloped the man’s clammy forearm with his hand, squeezing it and beckoning gently with his chin to his sternum.
Robert stared at him for a moment longer, still terrified, but visibly yielding. His shoulders relaxed within Flambae’s embrace, though Flambae was sure that it was entirely forced. Then, the dispatcher tilted his head, leaning the side of his face lightly against Flambae’s chest. He was being cautious. Testing the waters. It was clear in the way he absolutely refused to look Flambae in the eyes. His freckles were bold against the flush blooming richly on his face. His chestnut hair was soft against Flambae’s skin, tickling against his pectoral as the man dared to shuffle a bit closer. For a while, he just stayed like that, silent and occasionally nuzzling away any space between them. Flambae observed quietly, keeping his body lax, letting Robert take the journey at his own pace.
And maybe, Flambae thought, that would be enough. Maybe Robert just needed to be held, the nervousness over the whole mouthing fixation being all for not. Flambae didn’t mind that. He was impartial to whether or not Robert took his offer, as long as he could show the man he could be good to him.
The silence was a contented one. Robert’s breathing had evened out and he had almost fully slumped into the cradle of Flambae’s arms. Flambae sighed out the day’s exhaustion in those quiet moments, simply watching Robert’s eyes become lidded and faraway. When nothing escalated, Flambae’s attention drifted, favoring the sparse clouds in the sky just beyond his living room window. That’s when he felt the shift.
Robert tilted his head ever so slightly, enough so that his nose was nuzzling against Flambae’s skin. He felt his warm breath, even the soft flitting on his lashes. Then, a sudden spark.
It wasn’t much. Really, it was just a kitten lick. But after almost ten minutes of the two men simply existing in each other’s space, it had Flambae’s attention snapping back down to Robert with an embarrassingly broken breath.
It happened again, and now Flambae saw Robert’s pink tongue sheepishly darting out, seeking. The tip of his tongue curled along the edge of Flambae’s nipple, wet and shy. Robert’s eyes were closed, and the alteration in his demeanor, the signs he was gaining the courage to indulge himself, started to surface. A firm lap against Flambae’s nipple, sending a shiver through the taller man. A gentle nosing against the sensitive flesh, scenting him, then another lick. Flambae exhaled unsteadily at the feeling. It was foreign. So much softer than his fingers when he had to relieve himself, and yet still electrifying. He squeezed Robert’s forearm, a go ahead. He could handle this.
Robert hummed and leaned in, finally latching onto him.
Flambae swallowed down a curse at the initial pull. It typically took a while for him to begin to leak under his own touch, but to Robert, his body reacted almost immediately. A gentle pressure, warm and profound, stoking beneath his breastbone. A gradual build as Robert sighed onto his skin and shyly indulged. Flambae huffed breathily, hardly audible, but Robert caught it in an instant. His sleepy-looking eyes opened and cast Flambae a hesitant question. Are you okay? Am I fucking this all up? Flambae shook his head at him, watched as Robert relaxed and closed his eyes once more. The sight of him. Fuck.
He’d never seen the dispatcher so peaceful before. The subtle working of his mouth, his easy breaths, it was doing something to Flambae. Something dangerous. And the sounds. The little moist noises of Robert beginning to thoroughly suckle, surrendering to his needs. It was Flambae’s undoing. The pressure climbed and climbed, egged on by the debilitating desire to nurture his dispatcher. Within Robert’s mouth, his nipple stiffened, nerves alight, responded in ways he could not suppress. The peak came with a galeforce.
Flambae hunched over a bit and gasped quietly, crowding Robert into him. The sudden motion elicited a tiny sound of protest from the other man, and Flambae was truly sorry for that.
“I-It’s coming-” Flambae just barely managed to say, the tension in his breasts folding in on itself relentlessly, until he felt it. The familiar sensation of the liquid leaving him. His secret was revealed to the man he swore once that he hated. He hadn’t been producing much that day, but the relief was still there. The relief, and the cripplingly fond feeling sweeping over him when Robert practically squirmed with fervor in his arms and began to drink from him.
Abandon. Helpless and unstoppable in nature. Robert’s previously well-behaved hand reached up and cupped at Flambae’s unattended pec, palming the thick flesh, drawing a low sound from Flambae’s throat. Robert’s eyebrows furrowed, his pulls growing in strength. Each suction, each curl of his tongue, dragged Flambae’s essence from him. Flambae fully expected to be mortified if anyone had found out about his anomaly. But with Robert here, eagerly suckling from his tit without an ounce of judgement, he quickly decided that there was no better way to be known. Robert knew him now. And he knew Robert. Their vulnerability traded beautifully, making a relationship that only they could understand. Only they could ever know.
“You’re doing so good, azizam,” He found himself whispering, moving to cradle Robert’s softly working jaw. The other man whined at his words, burying himself further into the swelling plush of Flambae’s chest.
He wondered briefly, as Robert nursed, if this might be what it felt like to be in love.