(erm forcefag rabbot tossed in humiliation kink)
"Just—" Robby pulls away from Jack's spit-slick, kissed-red mouth, breathing hard. "I'm not, uh, gay. You know that, right?"
Jack just laughs, intent on tugging Robby right back to his mouth where he belongs. Before he can slip his tongue back inside that perfect mouth Robby stops him, a gentle but firm hand on his chest. "Brother, wh..?"
The look on Robby's fucking face. Like a guilty, kicked dog. "...You're serious?" Jack scoffs, disbelieving.
"No.. judgement, or whatever, I'm just not," Robby mumbles, looking anywhere but Jack's eyes.
The very notion is fucking absurd. Jack knows it, and he's pretty sure Robby has got to. He squishes Robby's cheeks, forcing his eyes back to his. "This? This is pretty fucking gay, Mike," He snorts, gesturing down at how he's straddling Robby's lap.
He grinds down, right on the twitching bulge in Robby's pants until he lets out a strained groan. "That's pretty fucking gay, too."
"It's.. not the same," Robby protests weakly, words a little mushy, Jack's hand still tight on his jaw, still squishing his cheeks. "Just a— natural response. To. Stimulation."
"Oh, let me guess, a hole's a hole? You wanna fuck me cause anything works, yeah?"
"I wouldn't.. say it like that," Robby manages, bright red.
Jack promptly slides off of Robby's lap, padding to the kitchen in their shared apartment— who can afford to live without a roommate, anyways?— without a care in the world. He opens the fridge to grab a can of Coors, leaning against the counter as he cracks it open.
"What— wait, Jack, what the fuck?" Robby whines, sounding so pitiful Jack has to hide his grin with a sip of beer.
"Oh, I don't fuck straight guys," Jack tells him, smug, slurping obnoxiously at his drink. It's a thing he prides himself in, his ability to be... well, a little shit.
Robby just stares, beautifully flushed, and Jack has to laugh a little. As much as Robby might like to hide how affected he is, the droopy, molten brown kicked puppy eyes paired with the boner still tenting his boxers doesn't do him any favors.
"Jack," Robby whispers, and oh, Jack likes that. The desperate, broken tone to his voice. He's so deliciously easy, really. "Please."
"Please what?" Jack taunts, sets his drink down, circles back over to the couch. He stands directly in front of Robby so the usually taller man has to look up at him, has to sit almost eye level with his dick. "Please fuck you? Make you shut up and take my dick? Beg for it like a fag whore?"
Robby fucking squirms, and Jack's lips curl at the sight, pleased. He's already trapped, already gone, he just has to realize it.
"Use your words like a big boy, huh?" Jack coaxes, reaching to grab onto his chin, shaking him a little. Robby looks hazy already, chest rising and falling in quick little breaths. He still doesn't speak.
Jack slowly pushes his thumb into Robby's mouth, half expecting a bite or— any fight at all, really. He should've known better. Robby takes to it instead, lets him in, swirling his tongue and sucking like he was made for it. Jack groans quietly under his breath, slowly fucking his thumb in and out of that wet, eager heat.
"Y'know, you'd make a damn good cocksucker for a straight guy," Jack comments, tilts his head, glances to where Robby is still tented and leaking in his shorts. Aw. There's a cute little wet patch there.
Robby makes a muffled noise of protest but doesn't fight the humiliation, mouth full of Jack's thumb.
"Here's your ultimatum. You can't fuck me. I can fuck you, though. Work that virgin ass open with my dick and fuck you stupid until you can't cum without something inside that greedy hole. And you'll say 'thank you, Jack, I love dick so much and I'm your little faggot slut, sir.' Or I stop right here and now and I never touch you again."
Robby whimpers, bright red and embarrassed, looking like he sort of wants to cry. Good. Jack pulls his thumb from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting the pad of it to his lips. Even slightly messy, he looks so beautiful.
"Jack, I can't— why can't you just—" poor Robby can't find his words, voice tremoring with his shaky breaths. "Just touch me, alright?"
Aw. That won't do.
"'I'm a faggot and I want your dick,' repeat it," Jack orders, unrelenting. This is too much fun, Robby is too much fun, all pathetic and humiliated for him.
"Jack—"
"I'd let you get away with 'Jack, please, I need cock like air, Jack, please fuck me,' cause I think begging suits you so nice," Jack croons, mocks, rubbing Robby's own saliva into his cheek.
Robby looks a little nauseous, but poor guy must be so woozy with all the blood rushing down to his dick. Jack just waits as he fumbles, avoids eye contact, tries not to jerk his hips up for more. Jack wonders if he could cum like this, just from being talked down to. Sure looks like it. "Jack... I— I need.."
"You need?" Jack coaxes.
"I need your dick, sir, please," Robby whispers, fists clenching, knuckles white. His eyes stay fixed down, the words barely audible.
"Aww. You need it like...?" Jack pushes, prodding at all of Robby's buttons til they break.
Robby clears his throat, speaks up a little— untrained but already such a good boy. "I, um. I need it like air."
"Because you're a...?"
"...Faggot," Robby manages, shifting where he sits.
Jack grins, white-toothed and proud. "Aww, I know, baby. Such a good faggot for me, yeah?"
"Jack.." Robby drops his head, rests against Jack's stomach, trying to breathe deep and utterly failing, the tips of his ears maraschino cherry red. Jack slides his fingers into the short, brown hair, petting and scratching until Robby loosens a little, calms enough to be reeled right back in. A push and pull of gentle and firm, a guiding hand, that's what his boy needs.
"You're gonna go to my bedroom," Jack murmurs, still scratching, "and you're gonna strip completely naked. If I see your boxers still on you're getting spanked til you can't sit down for a week, okay?"
"O-kay," Robby agrees, broken.
"Good. Then you're gonna get on my bed, on all fours, face down, ass up. And you're gonna stay perfect and still until I get there. Okay?"
"Okay," Robby breathes, leg bouncing, pent-up and desperate, just the way Jack likes to see.
Jack steps back, scruffs Robby to get him up. He sends him off with a little pat to the ass, and Robby makes the cutest little squeaking sound as he goes, wobbly like a baby doe. Oh, this'll be so much fun.
...
Jack lets him stew a bit. Lazes fifteen minutes away on the couch, pretending like he's not just as antsy, like he doesn't crave it just as much.
It's worth it, so worth it. He pads into his bedroom to a naked, beautifully flushed, tremoring Robby, dick hanging heavy between his legs, leaking onto his sheets. He's propped up on his elbows with his head hanging, clearly trying to stay composed and failing, skin glowing with a sheen of sweat.
"Wow, Mikey," Jack chuckles, kneeling behind him on the mattress, hands going up to knead and spread his cheeks, putting his puckered hole on display. "Don't you look pretty?"
Robby jolts, whimpers. His breathing tremors, his thighs shake. So wrecked and Jack hasn't even started. Poor, poor thing.
"Y'ever taken anything here?" Jack murmurs, rubbing teasing little circles into Robby's asshole with his thumb. "Not even a finger while you jerk off?"
"No," Robby whispers, face down in humiliation.
Jack just laughs, bullies the tip of his thumb in, dry. Robby swallows thickly, squirming a little at the intrusion, stifling a soft noise. "That makes you gay, right? Taking it up the ass?"
"Jack..."
"Mike," Jack pouts mockingly, wriggling his thumb back out. He's not that cruel, and besides, a wet fuck is always better.
He leaves Robby for a moment to rifle in his drawer, grabbing the lube and popping the cap. He coats his fingers liberally and squirts it over Robby's asshole for good measure, rubbing it around the rim and Robby squirms and pants.
"You already like it, don't you?" Jack scoffs, slowly easing a lube-slick finger inside, pride glowing in his chest as Robby swallows back a moan, fights to stay composed. "Taking to it easy. Slut like you was made for it, huh?"
"Please," Robby whispers, ruined, voice muffled. He's trying so, so hard not to make noise, not to give Jack that tiny victory— even though he's already won. It's too late, Jack's finger is pumping inside of him, and fuck, it does feel so fucking good.
Robby can't help the yelp that tumbles from his lips when Jack adds another finger and curls, pressing right into his prostate to send a burst of white-hot pleasure shooting through his spine.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, Jack," he hiccups, slurs, drunk on it, already addicted to it. Just as Jack predicted.
"Shh, let me get you open," Jack coos, scissoring his fingers to watch Robby gasp and arch, pushing back for more like a greedy whore. He purposefully starts to avoid his prostate, doesn't want Robby to cum without his dick.
"Virgin little asshole, all for me, huh?" Jack sneers, because Robby might cry soon from the embarrassment and pleasure of it all, and he really does wanna see that, pretty brown eyes all wet and shining. "Won't stay tight for long. You'll be begging for dick after this, won't you? Speak up, Mikey."
"Fuck you!" Robby manages to spit, too embarrassed to take anymore, stripped bare on every level. "It's... a one-time thing," he adds on, weakly.
"Sure," Jack laughs. "As if you won't be on your knees with this dick down your throat by tomorrow. Worshipping it. I know a faggot slut when I see one, look at you, clenching on my fingers like you don't wanna let em go. This pretty hole sure knows what it wants, at least."
"Jack—" Robby whimpers, weak, dizzy with arousal and pleasure, buzzing with the humiliation.
"Sir."
"....Sir," Robby breathes, and fuck, it makes his cock throb to say it. He's so hard it hurts, and Jack's fingers are still filling him up, stretching him open.
"Oh, god," he muffles his moan in the sheets as Jack presses his tip at his entrance, slowly but steadily pushing in, not giving Robby time to adjust until his hips are pressed flush with his ass.
"Shit, taking cock like a pro," Jack grits, a hand gripping onto his hip as he starts to fuck in and out, building up to a punishing pace. The slap of skin fills the room along with Robby's gasps and moans, louder and louder as Jack pounds ruthlessly against his prostate.
"Fuck! Fuck, sir, please—!"
"Say 'I'm a faggot and I love your dick' Mike, fucking say it," Jack bites out, sliding a hand up the arch of Robby's spine to his face, pushing it into the mattress.
"I'm— mmmnh—!"
"Say it!"
"I-I'm a faggot and I lo— haah— love your dick! Sir!!"
"Good fucking boy," Jack croons, the snap of his hips mean and relentless, adoring the way Robby arches and writhes, the pathetic fucking noises now spilling freely from his lips.
Robby feels so fucking full, so fucking good, better than he has in his life— molten heat that throbs in his spine and pools in his gut, makes him animal, sobbing and clawing at the sheets. Every thrust against his prostate sents sparks shooting behind his heavy lids, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth. Jack was right, he's a fucking faggot whore. He can't live without this, he can't.
He cums at the realization, the humiliation mixing with the pleasure in a dizzying cocktail. Crying himself hoarse, he clenches desperately around Jack's pulsing dick, his own cock spurting pitifully all over the sheets. He came untouched. A weak sob punches out of him with every thrust, little "uh-uh-uh"s that he can't help.
Jack follows soon after, pumping him full of hot spend, making his eyes roll back with the aftershocks of ecstacy. He feels used up and wrecked, wholly and completely ruined.
Jack settles beside him at some point, pulls his achy, spent body into those freckled arms.
Robby buries his face in Jack's neck, and he cries.
