[Flambae's gaze does that thing again, where it darts quickly from Robert's eyes to his freckles to his lips and then back up to the eyes again. It's a sign of nervous, genuine excitement, even if it only lasts momentarily.
He leans back, grinning wickedly again, the smugness of his smile drawn upwards along with the fuzziness of his lips, revealing that missing tooth ever so slightly right of center.]
See? I can be nice sometimes.
I said I was gentle.
[He leans over again to cup Robert's cheek, moving closer to look deep into his eyes, as though he's juuuust about to kiss him, only to breathlessly utter the following words against the dispatcher's lips:]
You've got some fucking salad in your teeth, Robbo...
[He lowers the volume of his voice just a tad. Why is the accent suddenly more prominent...]
I can get it for you, if you'd like.
If you want, I can get it for you.
Edited (oh no this is going to get horny again, also is the salad real, um, idk) 2026-06-04 03:37 (UTC)
[ Robert returns easily, with a lopsided smile. The missing tooth is as ridiculous as ever, and yet he feels so charmed by it in this particular moment. And he continues to be charmed, as Flambae moves in for the kill, eyelashes fluttering in anticipation almost as he feels like he's just about to be kissed.
And then—
.... Well, shit. If he really does have salad stuck in his teeth, that's extremely unattractive and quite frankly embarrassing. But did it need to be pointed out?? At least, Robert is ready in those first nanoseconds, to complain about the bait and switch, except that Flambae keeps going. And he uses that soft voice-
Why is it kind of horny?
The dispatcher blinks a few times in rapid succession, his gaze lifting from his boyfriend's lips up to meet his eyes, and then they fall heavy-lidded again as he considers his options here. They really do have to stop doing this. Hadn't they decided they're not doing this tonight? A tough thing to say when neither of them are above the behavior of besotted high school boys experiencing their first make-out session. And damn he really wishes he'd been kissed just now. ]
Sure, if you want to take some responsibility.
[ He is the one who gave Robert the salad, after all. ]
[Flambae takes notice of the flitting of Robert's eyes, his own breath catching despite his attempt to play it cool. He's not quite bright enough to pin down the ecstasy of this feeling explicitly, and is quick to dismiss it as the cheap thrill of being desired by a man who hasn't had the pleasure of receiving any good head until recently.
Had the head even been good, or had Flambae been too nervous, too eager?
Did the willingness and ease with which he just went for it turn Robert on or off?
He can't remember the last time sex had felt like something other than a performance. Raw and gritty, without an awareness of camera angles or Iphone or being perceived as sexy and competent. He's a public figure after all, and being known as a bad lay would hurt anybody's bedroom street cred, but he had allowed himself a little natural fumbling with Robert, because...]
What, for feeding you?
[He clicks his tongue after snorting, those large, warm hands of his now both cupping either side of Robert's face.
How strangely gentle the gesture is.
Flambae leans in with the umpteenth intense look of the night, his thumbs slowly pulling down either side of Robert's lower lip. One would expect with the way he's handled both civilians and teammates in the past that he'd be rough with something like this, but he's careful and attentive, searching for whatever irritating leafy green has lodged itself in a gap between his boyfriend's teeth.]
Sure, I'll take the fucking credit for that.
[Except, is there a leafy green?
Did he imagine it, or was he just a little too excited to put his fingers in Robert's mouth-]
Wait.
What the fuck?
[where is it]
Okay, I could've sworn there was something green and crunchy in there...
[Maybe it was one of Beefy's little green doggie treats, only Robert neglects himself too much to be lazy enough to attempt eating his beloved son's food...]
[ If it came down to it, the head he got from Flambae was good simply because the two of them give a shit about one another. Any fling Mecha Man actually did have in any recent year wasn't going to mean much. It was just some sad attempt to let off some steam and who knows what else.
But now that they're together together, he'd be biased about it either way.
Unfortunately for his dignity, this entire ride has been fast and furious and it takes so little to ignite feelings of arousal around this hairy, tooth-missing fireball that he's even wondered if something is wrong with him. Yet here he is, with his face held so tenderly between two hands, his heart starting to race as he anticipates another kiss that he's come to start craving ...
... Only for Flambae to actually go searching for something green that might have gotten stuck in there. Maybe. He can't actually tell anymore if the other man was attempting to save him the embarrassment of leaves in his teeth or if he was trying to be sexy.
Regardless, his mouth drops open obediently and that starved, feral creature in Robert's chest finds it alarmingly hot (hot, haha) to feel those fingers so carefully prodding along his teeth and in his mouth.
Flambae is lucky he didn't say the thing about Beef's treats aloud (he isn't that bad), because Robert starts to get the idea that actually there was never anything wrong with his teeth, and his brow slides up in an almost cocky manner as he waits a few seconds ...
And then lets his tongue brush suggestively over a thumb. He can't say much with fingers in his mouth, which is actually probably for the best, but he makes a sort of "I don't know" sound...which also somehow seems to double as a challenge. What is he going to do about it? ]
[The tongue to hand contact triggers and immediate biological response from the fiery super, something that isn't all that easy to conceal when the only fabric covering his body is a wrap of burgundy fabric around his massive wang, but at least he is sitting down, for now.
Once again, Robert Robertson III (it hurt to type out that full name I resent it) has gotten the best of him, and strangely enough, Flambae allows himself to look visibly flustered, his gaze dropping to the table before focusing hungrily on his idiot boyfriend again. His mouth hangs open as he attempts to put a coherent string of words together, although he blows a puff of air from it before deciding on the honest truth.]
Okay, it is getting very difficult to do this without...
[There's a little color in his cheeks, especially visible above the stubble.]
Well, thinking about having my dick in your mouth.
[ Flambae being seated at the moment is a small blessing since Robert can't immediately see anything amiss with that burgundy banana shield from his current place and with his face held as it is (even if it's gently so). Still, he has a feeling it hit the mark.
The blush sneaking up on those bristly cheeks definitely confirms it. ]
So?
[ He asks around the fingers. So, is there green in there or not? What is the verdict here...
Although his brief answer could also be interpreted as saying 'so what' to the idea of Flambae's dick in his mouth. Ah.
He brings his hands up to lightly circle about Flambae's wrists. ]
I think I did alright...
[ Somehow he manages this answer and maybe even sounds a bit cheeky about it too. Despite his own cheeks getting warm. He really doesn't know if Flambae is trying to sound sympathetic or seductive or what, but thinking about the too large dick in his mouth is enough to send some sparks down to his own underwear-clad dick to get it revved up a bit.
They were never going to survive a night without getting a little bit horny.
So whatever, he closes his lips, giving that same thumb he'd harassed with his tongue a little suck. ]
[Somehow, Flambae seems to catch on to what Robert means, and he quickly, ever so hesitantly, shakes his head in a way that's so timid, it almost doesn't seem like it suits the flamboyant giant.
His throat feels so dry, it would probably do him good to drink some water before engaging in whatever the fuck they are going to do next-]
You did.
[Flambae lets out a moan when Robert gives him a taste of what he wants, and he shivers, looking down at his own lap reflexively. He should be good, ask if Robert is feeling less tipsy, and ensure that he's finished his meal. Instead, he laughs, closing his eyes and cocking his head to the side-]
[Before smiling back defiantly and shoving a second finger into Robert's mouth, the little shit?!]
Damn, Robert.
You've been persistent tonight.
[The change of "heart," or "attitude," is a little performative, true, despite Flambae's desire for intimacy being legitimate. He silences the part of himself that worries that maybe he's running the one man who has showed him actual affection a little too ragged, but the fear is replaced by something wilder.
If there is any hope, any sliver of a chance that Robert actually likes that shitty, tempestuous part of him, it'd give Flambae the sense of wholeness in love that he's filled with a variety of fleshy appendages, fingers, tongues, and toys...
Only better.]
Do you want to see if I could try and fit inside you?
[ He should definitely drink some water. They should both drink some water.
Robert would not be able to deny what that "you did" does to his confidence and also to his general groin area, so it's a good thing his mouth is busy. Let's not examine what it could mean that he enjoys hearing those sounds from Flambae specifically when he has the man's fingers (or what's left of them) in his mouth, either.
They should both be good. But it would seem that that's too big of an ask.
Letting Flambae's fingers free (reluctantly) with a much too erotic pop of his lips and gentle nudge of his tongue, he raises a mildly indignant brow at his boyfriend, and curls his fingers just a little tighter against the man's wrist. ]
Oh no. You're not springing this on me. You started it.
[ Even if there had been leafy greens stuck in Robert's teeth (embarrassing), Flambae is the one who decided to be weirdly sexy and intimate about it, using his fingers and the softening of his voice...
It should be an indication that if he finds that when that accent got thicker it somehow turns him on more that yes, of course he likes the shitty, tempestuous side of the firestarting supervillain-slash-hero just as much as he likes the good and well-behaved parts of him. Robert feels crazy about it, in fact. He's never felt so much about a single person ever in any of his recent or far-reaching memories. It literally is like he's being engulfed in an inferno, and he does not want to leave.
Flambae's question has his heart raging like a hammer. A pulse of something wild and needy settles deep in his stomach. He can feel blood rushing straight into his cheeks and ears and the back of his neck and he averts his eyes for a moment, but gives a single nod.
Of course he wants that. He wants that and everything else, too. And he's trying his best to be patient and normal about it — and he will absolutely keep saying over and over that Flambae is more than just a physical need for him. The physical is just a pleasant addition — but if he's directly being asked, well.
[If Robert feels like his body is being engulfed in flames, Flambae experiences a temporary melting of the mind, like everything between his ears has suddenly molted into a puddle of warm, comfortable goo, rapidly reverting to something solid the second Robert's tongue loses contact with his hand.
Flambae looks back at him, half-lidded and so very frustrated, although it's less angry and more of the kind of half-snarl that he'll sport as a result of desires unmet. He's focused on Robert's face entirely, and even then, he only dimly registers the arch of the brow.
He smiles spitefully, one long, cursed leggy wrapping itself around the leg of Robert's chair and dragging him closer yet again-]
Fine.
Then I'll finish it, Bob-Bob.
[Before he shoves a still wet hand beneath the the fabric of Robert's boxers, stroking him up and down as if to prove a point. He's aggressive, suddenly letting all that gentleness fall to the wayside, because in part he isn't sure that's what Robert wants at the moment.
Flambae presses his nose against Robert the skin beneath's Robert's chipped ear. He's practiced this trick before, blowing air warm enough to the point where he's almost breathing fire, but not quite.]
I know you want me to kiss you.
Why don't ask you nicely?
I'll give you what you want.
[Flambae has no idea that what he's doing to Robert or how he's making him feel is incomparable to other things the veteran hero has experienced. If it's any consolation, he will be (most likely inaccurately) replaying that confession of love on a loop when he's driving to work, and thinking about how Robert had never expected to find him adorable or endearing.
As much as Flambae tries to be silly, it's hard for him to think that way about himself too.
[ They're both in a fine position to be testing the other's patience, really. But Robert rises to the challenge (in more ways than one), even if the jostling of his chair has him losing focus for a few brief moments. How Flambae keeps getting away with that, he doesn't know.
He gasps softly as that still-wet hand finds its way into his one remaining bit of clothing, grunting in only mild protest. ]
Fine.
[ Finishing it is exactly what he wants Flambae to do. To take responsibility, to own up to the horniness. Unfortunately, Robert can only put up so much of a fight with a hand down his underpants and that damnable breath up against sensitive skin. His eyes flutter helplessly as the hand that previously held Flambae captive (rather weakly, but still) steadies itself on the table. ]
Nngh. What is wrong with you?
[ Direct one minute, as far from it the next. He can't figure Flambae or what he wants in this moment out exactly. He thought he knew a few seconds ago, but now it's back to being about kisses?
Maybe Flambae just wants Robert to admit he's greedy. Frankly, he thought that was already obvious. ]
[Flambae doesn't overthink the peculiarities of how, when Robert accosts him, irritated, it doesn't make him angry anymore, especially when he's got a good warm hand on an erection that he will ensure comes to fruition.
To taunt him further, he pauses his furious strokes to allow that wet thumb to trace over any wayward veins he can feel, making direct eye contact with Robert as he pulls away slightly, readying himself to make his move. His poor boyfriend will just have to endure a few seconds of torture, like Flambae is thinking about whether or not he should make good on his promise.
His free, toned-to-fucking-death free arm snakes its way around Robert's waist and pulls him roughly into the Z-team drama queen's lap, and he leans in for a rough-tongued kiss, swinging the other side of his body so that they both fall onto the floor. He does his best to trap a slender Robert between his toned thighs, leering over him after pulling back.
Flambae once thought he'd love to see Robert frightened, having unabashedly jerked off to the idea once or twice*, but what's better is seeing him like this. Tired, angry, and breathing haggard breaths in a fit of erotic, enraged excitement.
*that he remembers]
You know, for all your scorn and dogshit dogma about supervillains, you...
You are little bit obsessed with us, no?
[You will catch him denying this implication every fucking second afterward, let me tell you...]
You've followed the rules. And you're so strict with them, it's like you...
[Poor Robert.
He removes the hand that was in the dispatcher's pants, squishing the lower half of Robert's face with it so that the lips are distorted and coated in whatever, mixture of fluids his fingers had on them, leaning in for another kiss, only to remove his own fingers to deepen the ungodly lipsmashing quickly.
Something about how the taste of his own idiot fingers seems to spoil his indulgence with the object of his unhinged affections.
Flambae leans backwards only slightly, reluctantly, the rest of his entire chiseled physique pressed up against the smaller man upon the floor.]
You hoped they were going to harden up and fuck you up the ass, but they never got you to completion did they?
Not even a quick little rub and tug, hm?
That's okay.
You'll have a lot more fun with me, because is it is me, of course-
[why is this sounding a lot like an irritating evil villain monologue]
[ Robert gives a half-lidded, flat sort of look very briefly in response. No he's pretty sure he does not have any idea what game Flambae is playing at the moment! Does it actually matter at this point, when he's got a large hand stroking his cock to attention, teasing those veins, and he gets the kiss he asked for? No it doesn't.
He moans so deeply into it that you'd think his boyfriend had been starving him. Of course they both know it doesn't take a whole lot to rile him up if you know how, and Flambae has always had a special talent for knowing exactly that. Even before it was sexual or do to any attraction (on Robert's part at least).
Being pulled into that yaoi-sized lap is perfectly acceptable to him — though how does Flambae keep pulling that chair leg trick off?? — but he isn't expecting to be tugged down to the floor as well, and the dispatcher looks genuinely startled for a few moments as he stares up at the man responsible. It was both a dickish move and really kind of hot, so he is a little bit at a loss here ...
but obsessed with villains? More like obsessed with one villain for all of his adult life until recently, and unwittingly shuffled in with the rest, but. Details. ]
Bullshit.
[ He mutters, because there is some instinct in him that even with a complete hard-on he and Chad have to defy one another at least once a conversation.
Not that he gets much else out as he's squished and kissed and there's so much happening in his head and around him that it's suddenly hard to keep track-
His lungs are burning by the time the kiss pulls away, even if it wasn't even that long of a kiss or anything like that. There is also no hiding or explaining away how his dick throbs in response to the perverse picture Flambae is painting as he hovers over Robert. It's not true he would insist, but it's just the way he's saying it, the powerful body pinning him down.
The flamboyant, fire-starting, drama queen is so annoying. Unfortunately, Robert keeps falling for the bait. ]
God, I hate you so much.
[ He breathes out in a tone that definitely says I love you so much. And then he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue before he parts them as commanded. He doesn't even know what's coming, but he somehow wants whatever it is. ]
He can't be too slow, despite the desire to reach out and caress Robert's cheek. It's his own stupid desire for tenderness that will ruin this, won't it? That's to be saved for later, anyhow, especially if Robert is going to continue feeling that foolhardy affection he admitted for him earlier.
No matter how steadfast Flambae appears or presents himself, he's constantly at war with an envoy of criticism that comes from god knows where. Maybe it's from his double-sided immigrant family, with their hard-hitting and deeply hilarious takes on his outfits and behavior, or perhaps it's from the world, especially the one he was born into that would punish his choice of desire in death.
Seeing Robert here, cursing him in such a loving manner while following his orders, well, it's like a balm to his leaky insides and questionable psychology. He's whipped his body into impeccable, nearly impossible shape, and he is making strides in regards to anger management, but he still feels somehow that there is something deeply wrong with him that isn't to do with his lack of consideration for others or spitfire temper.
He leans in even closer over Robert, sliding the his index and middle finger from his injured hand into the dispatcher's mouth and closes his eyes.
It's easier this way.
Maybe he won't be humiliated if he does this and continues jerking his well-meaning boyfriend off.]
[ Hopefully Flambae knows that the first whiff of unhappiness that Robert gets out of him during this situation will immediately kill his boner. He's stretched awfully thin here, if the near desperate sounds he's making (much to his embarrassment) are any indication, and doesn't actually know how many more times he can handle being offered something only for it to be withdrawn. Especially when he feels like it's because he personally has done something wrong, done something to turn Flambae off or to give him the absolutely wrong idea.
He wants to hold and be held too, later when they're in bed and they're so sleepy they're delirious but can't actually drift off because it would mean spending a little less time together. Both of these moods are surely important, both of them mean something to Robert.
It's just that it's hard to think of being soft when your boyfriend asks you if you think you'd like to try and take his ridiculously sized dick, and he's tackled you to the ground with nasty, heated words— ]
Chad...
[ He manages to breathe out the name before those fingers find purchase in his mouth. And when they do, his tongue presses up against them almost automatically. Even though his cheeks are so on fire his freckles will probably fall off, he closes his lips around them too and sucks.
His hips are trembling beneath Flambae's weight too, trying hard not to buck around with the strokes of that hand around his dick. If he's too thirsty, he will inevitably be denied... or something. He hasn't quite figured it out yet. On the other hand, it's impossible not to react to this, isn't it? Completely impossible, even for a person who's mastered the art of dry and dead expression. ]
i really need to icon the kissing thumbnail huh.
He leans back, grinning wickedly again, the smugness of his smile drawn upwards along with the fuzziness of his lips, revealing that missing tooth ever so slightly right of center.]
See? I can be nice sometimes.
I said I was gentle.
[He leans over again to cup Robert's cheek, moving closer to look deep into his eyes, as though he's juuuust about to kiss him, only to breathlessly utter the following words against the dispatcher's lips:]
You've got some fucking salad in your teeth, Robbo...
[He lowers the volume of his voice just a tad. Why is the accent suddenly more prominent...]
I can get it for you, if you'd like.
If you want, I can get it for you.
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[ Robert returns easily, with a lopsided smile. The missing tooth is as ridiculous as ever, and yet he feels so charmed by it in this particular moment. And he continues to be charmed, as Flambae moves in for the kill, eyelashes fluttering in anticipation almost as he feels like he's just about to be kissed.
And then—
.... Well, shit. If he really does have salad stuck in his teeth, that's extremely unattractive and quite frankly embarrassing. But did it need to be pointed out?? At least, Robert is ready in those first nanoseconds, to complain about the bait and switch, except that Flambae keeps going. And he uses that soft voice-
Why is it kind of horny?
The dispatcher blinks a few times in rapid succession, his gaze lifting from his boyfriend's lips up to meet his eyes, and then they fall heavy-lidded again as he considers his options here. They really do have to stop doing this. Hadn't they decided they're not doing this tonight? A tough thing to say when neither of them are above the behavior of besotted high school boys experiencing their first make-out session. And damn he really wishes he'd been kissed just now. ]
Sure, if you want to take some responsibility.
[ He is the one who gave Robert the salad, after all. ]
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Had the head even been good, or had Flambae been too nervous, too eager?
Did the willingness and ease with which he just went for it turn Robert on or off?
He can't remember the last time sex had felt like something other than a performance. Raw and gritty, without an awareness of camera angles or Iphone or being perceived as sexy and competent. He's a public figure after all, and being known as a bad lay would hurt anybody's bedroom street cred, but he had allowed himself a little natural fumbling with Robert, because...]
What, for feeding you?
[He clicks his tongue after snorting, those large, warm hands of his now both cupping either side of Robert's face.
How strangely gentle the gesture is.
Flambae leans in with the umpteenth intense look of the night, his thumbs slowly pulling down either side of Robert's lower lip. One would expect with the way he's handled both civilians and teammates in the past that he'd be rough with something like this, but he's careful and attentive, searching for whatever irritating leafy green has lodged itself in a gap between his boyfriend's teeth.]
Sure, I'll take the fucking credit for that.
[Except, is there a leafy green?
Did he imagine it, or was he just a little too excited to put his fingers in Robert's mouth-]
Wait.
What the fuck?
[where is it]
Okay, I could've sworn there was something green and crunchy in there...
[Maybe it was one of Beefy's little green doggie treats, only Robert neglects himself too much to be lazy enough to attempt eating his beloved son's food...]
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But now that they're together together, he'd be biased about it either way.
Unfortunately for his dignity, this entire ride has been fast and furious and it takes so little to ignite feelings of arousal around this hairy, tooth-missing fireball that he's even wondered if something is wrong with him. Yet here he is, with his face held so tenderly between two hands, his heart starting to race as he anticipates another kiss that he's come to start craving ...
... Only for Flambae to actually go searching for something green that might have gotten stuck in there. Maybe. He can't actually tell anymore if the other man was attempting to save him the embarrassment of leaves in his teeth or if he was trying to be sexy.
Regardless, his mouth drops open obediently and that starved, feral creature in Robert's chest finds it alarmingly hot (hot, haha) to feel those fingers so carefully prodding along his teeth and in his mouth.
Flambae is lucky he didn't say the thing about Beef's treats aloud (he isn't that bad), because Robert starts to get the idea that actually there was never anything wrong with his teeth, and his brow slides up in an almost cocky manner as he waits a few seconds ...
And then lets his tongue brush suggestively over a thumb. He can't say much with fingers in his mouth, which is actually probably for the best, but he makes a sort of "I don't know" sound...which also somehow seems to double as a challenge. What is he going to do about it? ]
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Once again, Robert Robertson III (it hurt to type out that full name I resent it) has gotten the best of him, and strangely enough, Flambae allows himself to look visibly flustered, his gaze dropping to the table before focusing hungrily on his idiot boyfriend again. His mouth hangs open as he attempts to put a coherent string of words together, although he blows a puff of air from it before deciding on the honest truth.]
Okay, it is getting very difficult to do this without...
[There's a little color in his cheeks, especially visible above the stubble.]
Well, thinking about having my dick in your mouth.
I know that couldn't have been easy for you.
[is he trying to sound sympathetic im crying]
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The blush sneaking up on those bristly cheeks definitely confirms it. ]
So?
[ He asks around the fingers. So, is there green in there or not? What is the verdict here...
Although his brief answer could also be interpreted as saying 'so what' to the idea of Flambae's dick in his mouth. Ah.
He brings his hands up to lightly circle about Flambae's wrists. ]
I think I did alright...
[ Somehow he manages this answer and maybe even sounds a bit cheeky about it too. Despite his own cheeks getting warm. He really doesn't know if Flambae is trying to sound sympathetic or seductive or what, but thinking about the too large dick in his mouth is enough to send some sparks down to his own underwear-clad dick to get it revved up a bit.
They were never going to survive a night without getting a little bit horny.
So whatever, he closes his lips, giving that same thumb he'd harassed with his tongue a little suck. ]
last part reply i swear
His throat feels so dry, it would probably do him good to drink some water before engaging in whatever the fuck they are going to do next-]
You did.
[Flambae lets out a moan when Robert gives him a taste of what he wants, and he shivers, looking down at his own lap reflexively. He should be good, ask if Robert is feeling less tipsy, and ensure that he's finished his meal. Instead, he laughs, closing his eyes and cocking his head to the side-]
2/2
Damn, Robert.
You've been persistent tonight.
[The change of "heart," or "attitude," is a little performative, true, despite Flambae's desire for intimacy being legitimate. He silences the part of himself that worries that maybe he's running the one man who has showed him actual affection a little too ragged, but the fear is replaced by something wilder.
If there is any hope, any sliver of a chance that Robert actually likes that shitty, tempestuous part of him, it'd give Flambae the sense of wholeness in love that he's filled with a variety of fleshy appendages, fingers, tongues, and toys...
Only better.]
Do you want to see if I could try and fit inside you?
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Robert would not be able to deny what that "you did" does to his confidence and also to his general groin area, so it's a good thing his mouth is busy. Let's not examine what it could mean that he enjoys hearing those sounds from Flambae specifically when he has the man's fingers (or what's left of them) in his mouth, either.
They should both be good. But it would seem that that's too big of an ask.
Letting Flambae's fingers free (reluctantly) with a much too erotic pop of his lips and gentle nudge of his tongue, he raises a mildly indignant brow at his boyfriend, and curls his fingers just a little tighter against the man's wrist. ]
Oh no. You're not springing this on me. You started it.
[ Even if there had been leafy greens stuck in Robert's teeth (embarrassing), Flambae is the one who decided to be weirdly sexy and intimate about it, using his fingers and the softening of his voice...
It should be an indication that if he finds that when that accent got thicker it somehow turns him on more that yes, of course he likes the shitty, tempestuous side of the firestarting supervillain-slash-hero just as much as he likes the good and well-behaved parts of him. Robert feels crazy about it, in fact. He's never felt so much about a single person ever in any of his recent or far-reaching memories. It literally is like he's being engulfed in an inferno, and he does not want to leave.
Flambae's question has his heart raging like a hammer. A pulse of something wild and needy settles deep in his stomach. He can feel blood rushing straight into his cheeks and ears and the back of his neck and he averts his eyes for a moment, but gives a single nod.
Of course he wants that. He wants that and everything else, too. And he's trying his best to be patient and normal about it — and he will absolutely keep saying over and over that Flambae is more than just a physical need for him. The physical is just a pleasant addition — but if he's directly being asked, well.
Well. ]
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Flambae looks back at him, half-lidded and so very frustrated, although it's less angry and more of the kind of half-snarl that he'll sport as a result of desires unmet. He's focused on Robert's face entirely, and even then, he only dimly registers the arch of the brow.
He smiles spitefully, one long, cursed leggy wrapping itself around the leg of Robert's chair and dragging him closer yet again-]
Fine.
Then I'll finish it, Bob-Bob.
[Before he shoves a still wet hand beneath the the fabric of Robert's boxers, stroking him up and down as if to prove a point. He's aggressive, suddenly letting all that gentleness fall to the wayside, because in part he isn't sure that's what Robert wants at the moment.
Flambae presses his nose against Robert the skin beneath's Robert's chipped ear. He's practiced this trick before, blowing air warm enough to the point where he's almost breathing fire, but not quite.]
I know you want me to kiss you.
Why don't ask you nicely?
I'll give you what you want.
[Flambae has no idea that what he's doing to Robert or how he's making him feel is incomparable to other things the veteran hero has experienced. If it's any consolation, he will be (most likely inaccurately) replaying that confession of love on a loop when he's driving to work, and thinking about how Robert had never expected to find him adorable or endearing.
As much as Flambae tries to be silly, it's hard for him to think that way about himself too.
Especially when it gets too quiet.]
I'd just like to hear you say it.
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He gasps softly as that still-wet hand finds its way into his one remaining bit of clothing, grunting in only mild protest. ]
Fine.
[ Finishing it is exactly what he wants Flambae to do. To take responsibility, to own up to the horniness. Unfortunately, Robert can only put up so much of a fight with a hand down his underpants and that damnable breath up against sensitive skin. His eyes flutter helplessly as the hand that previously held Flambae captive (rather weakly, but still) steadies itself on the table. ]
Nngh. What is wrong with you?
[ Direct one minute, as far from it the next. He can't figure Flambae or what he wants in this moment out exactly. He thought he knew a few seconds ago, but now it's back to being about kisses?
Maybe Flambae just wants Robert to admit he's greedy. Frankly, he thought that was already obvious. ]
I want you to kiss me.
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[Flambae doesn't overthink the peculiarities of how, when Robert accosts him, irritated, it doesn't make him angry anymore, especially when he's got a good warm hand on an erection that he will ensure comes to fruition.
To taunt him further, he pauses his furious strokes to allow that wet thumb to trace over any wayward veins he can feel, making direct eye contact with Robert as he pulls away slightly, readying himself to make his move. His poor boyfriend will just have to endure a few seconds of torture, like Flambae is thinking about whether or not he should make good on his promise.
His free, toned-to-fucking-death free arm snakes its way around Robert's waist and pulls him roughly into the Z-team drama queen's lap, and he leans in for a rough-tongued kiss, swinging the other side of his body so that they both fall onto the floor. He does his best to trap a slender Robert between his toned thighs, leering over him after pulling back.
Flambae once thought he'd love to see Robert frightened, having unabashedly jerked off to the idea once or twice*, but what's better is seeing him like this. Tired, angry, and breathing haggard breaths in a fit of erotic, enraged excitement.
*that he remembers]
You know, for all your scorn and dogshit dogma about supervillains, you...
You are little bit obsessed with us, no?
[You will catch him denying this implication every fucking second afterward, let me tell you...]
You've followed the rules. And you're so strict with them, it's like you...
[Poor Robert.
He removes the hand that was in the dispatcher's pants, squishing the lower half of Robert's face with it so that the lips are distorted and coated in whatever, mixture of fluids his fingers had on them, leaning in for another kiss, only to remove his own fingers to deepen the ungodly lipsmashing quickly.
Something about how the taste of his own idiot fingers seems to spoil his indulgence with the object of his unhinged affections.
Flambae leans backwards only slightly, reluctantly, the rest of his entire chiseled physique pressed up against the smaller man upon the floor.]
You hoped they were going to harden up and fuck you up the ass, but they never got you to completion did they?
Not even a quick little rub and tug, hm?
That's okay.
You'll have a lot more fun with me, because is it is me, of course-
[why is this sounding a lot like an irritating evil villain monologue]
Who's gonna give you what you want, motherfucker!
But you'll have to beg for it.
[he's so annoying-]
Open your mouth.
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He moans so deeply into it that you'd think his boyfriend had been starving him. Of course they both know it doesn't take a whole lot to rile him up if you know how, and Flambae has always had a special talent for knowing exactly that. Even before it was sexual or do to any attraction (on Robert's part at least).
Being pulled into that yaoi-sized lap is perfectly acceptable to him — though how does Flambae keep pulling that chair leg trick off?? — but he isn't expecting to be tugged down to the floor as well, and the dispatcher looks genuinely startled for a few moments as he stares up at the man responsible. It was both a dickish move and really kind of hot, so he is a little bit at a loss here ...
but obsessed with villains? More like obsessed with one villain for all of his adult life until recently, and unwittingly shuffled in with the rest, but. Details. ]
Bullshit.
[ He mutters, because there is some instinct in him that even with a complete hard-on he and Chad have to defy one another at least once a conversation.
Not that he gets much else out as he's squished and kissed and there's so much happening in his head and around him that it's suddenly hard to keep track-
His lungs are burning by the time the kiss pulls away, even if it wasn't even that long of a kiss or anything like that. There is also no hiding or explaining away how his dick throbs in response to the perverse picture Flambae is painting as he hovers over Robert. It's not true he would insist, but it's just the way he's saying it, the powerful body pinning him down.
The flamboyant, fire-starting, drama queen is so annoying. Unfortunately, Robert keeps falling for the bait. ]
God, I hate you so much.
[ He breathes out in a tone that definitely says I love you so much. And then he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue before he parts them as commanded. He doesn't even know what's coming, but he somehow wants whatever it is. ]
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He can't be too slow, despite the desire to reach out and caress Robert's cheek. It's his own stupid desire for tenderness that will ruin this, won't it? That's to be saved for later, anyhow, especially if Robert is going to continue feeling that foolhardy affection he admitted for him earlier.
No matter how steadfast Flambae appears or presents himself, he's constantly at war with an envoy of criticism that comes from god knows where. Maybe it's from his double-sided immigrant family, with their hard-hitting and deeply hilarious takes on his outfits and behavior, or perhaps it's from the world, especially the one he was born into that would punish his choice of desire in death.
Seeing Robert here, cursing him in such a loving manner while following his orders, well, it's like a balm to his leaky insides and questionable psychology. He's whipped his body into impeccable, nearly impossible shape, and he is making strides in regards to anger management, but he still feels somehow that there is something deeply wrong with him that isn't to do with his lack of consideration for others or spitfire temper.
He leans in even closer over Robert, sliding the his index and middle finger from his injured hand into the dispatcher's mouth and closes his eyes.
It's easier this way.
Maybe he won't be humiliated if he does this and continues jerking his well-meaning boyfriend off.]
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He wants to hold and be held too, later when they're in bed and they're so sleepy they're delirious but can't actually drift off because it would mean spending a little less time together. Both of these moods are surely important, both of them mean something to Robert.
It's just that it's hard to think of being soft when your boyfriend asks you if you think you'd like to try and take his
ridiculously sizeddick, and he's tackled you to the ground with nasty, heated words— ]Chad...
[ He manages to breathe out the name before those fingers find purchase in his mouth. And when they do, his tongue presses up against them almost automatically. Even though his cheeks are so on fire his freckles will probably fall off, he closes his lips around them too and sucks.
His hips are trembling beneath Flambae's weight too, trying hard not to buck around with the strokes of that hand around his dick. If he's too thirsty, he will inevitably be denied... or something. He hasn't quite figured it out yet. On the other hand, it's impossible not to react to this, isn't it? Completely impossible, even for a person who's mastered the art of dry and dead expression. ]