Pls pls pls I need Knuckles and Knives' babybert plssss
(I read this right after my nightshift and genuinely wondered why someone was sending me an ask about sonic 😭😭)
but here they are! aoife (carried by colm) and morgan (carried by jan). fraternal twin girls, one of whom robert had no idea about until the day of. Robert still isn't sure which twin was the sneaky one on the sonographs but he adores them both :)
【Work shopping a scene for a future spicy chapter, please leave feedback if you would be so kind. 】
A warm hand slid to the back of his neck before Robert had fully registered what was happening.
Not squeezing. Just there. His thumb pressed into the top of Robert's spine and the heat bled in slowly, a low steady warmth that moved down through his vertebrae and asked nothing yet.
His other hand found Robert's wrist. He turned him, smooth and quick, Robert's back coming flush against his chest, one arm bent up behind him, the other free. The grip on his wrist was loose. The hand on his neck was the real threat.
Robert tested it anyway. Shifted his weight forward, felt for the angle.
The grip on his neck tightened and the heat spiked, sharp and immediate, a flash of it that moved down his shoulder and lit up every nerve between his neck and his sternum. Not enough to mark. Enough to mean something.
Robert went still.
"Good," Chad said, close to his ear. Low. Not a reward. Just an observation.
He started walking.
Robert's feet moved because the alternative was being walked anyway, and at least this way he had the dignity of choosing it. Chad guided him across the room in the direction of the closet. Steering him like he was something Chad had complete authority over and they both already knew it.
The closet door was in front of them.
"Find something for me to tie you with," Chad said.
Robert swallowed. He moved the hand pinned behind his back. The grip on his wrist and his neck tightened simultaneously. Okay. One-handed then.
He shifted around the closet, one arm uselessly behind him. A black canvas D-ring belt on the rack. A red tie on the hook. He set them on the small closet dresser.
He kept looking.
A spare SDN lanyard coiled next to his backup keycard. He picked it up one-handed and set it at the end of the row, like a challenge.
He dragged his free hand along the full length of the display when he was done. Ta-da.
The grip on Robert's neck tightened until his eyes watered.
No sarcasm. Got it.
Robert collected everything into his free hand. Chad walked him away from the closet and toward the center of the room. He stopped him there, released his wrist, and stepped around to his front.
Robert looked at him.
Looked at the black jeans sitting low on his hips, everything above them bare. Wide through the shoulders that narrowed down through his chest and waist, years of the gym visible in every line of him. The heat coming off his skin was almost visible in the low light. He shifted his weight, and Robert watched every muscle in his torso move with the ease of someone who had never once needed to brace for impact and had the body to prove it.
He flicked his eyes to Chad's face. The stubble catching the low light, jaw loose, none of the performance he wore everywhere else. His hair down around his shoulders, moving slightly when he breathed.
Then his eyes.
Molten gold, burning at the edges the way they did when he was running extra hot, which he was, which Robert had done to him, and that fact sat in Robert's body with a pooling heat he wasn't going to think too hard about right now.
Chad held out his hand.
Robert held his gaze and said nothing as he placed everything on his hand.
"Wrists," he said, moving behind him.
Robert's hands moved behind his back. He felt him wrap the thin lanyard around his wrists, once, twice, the thin cord crossing over itself and knotted flat against his palm where he couldn't reach it. He tested it immediately. Nothing moved.
Chad crossed to the door without releasing him. Robert heard him lift something from the hook, the small metal click of the clasp, and knew before it touched him what it was.
No way.
Beef's leash looped around his upper arms just above the elbows, pulling them inward until the angle closed off the last escape entirely. Robert felt the geometry of it. His wrists were no longer Chad’s problem. Now his arms weren’t either. He tested it once.
Nothing.
"Why did you—"
"You got out of my cuffs this morning," Chad said, close to his ear. "No more tricks."
The leash clasp was cold against his forearm. Beef snored softly from his corner, unconcerned with the inappropriate use of his property.
Chad pressed down on his shoulder. Robert got his knees under him and sank onto the mattress into a kneeling position.
He watched Chad walk to the floor lamp. Chad unceremoniously unplugged it and yanked the cord free, the sound of the snap was loud in the quiet room.
Chad moved to his side. The cord came around Robert's right thigh, just above the knee, wrapping twice, and then he moved his fingers over it, the heat built low and focused against the plastic where it overlapped, not burning, just the warmth of something softening and setting. It cooled. Robert tested it. The overlap held.
Left thigh. Same motion, same heat, same result.
Then his ankles, drawn back and up, the cord running between thigh and ankle and fixing the leg bent. Both sides. The heat sealing each overlap in turn.
Robert shifted his weight. Tested the range. He could lean slightly, could rock, couldn't extend his legs, couldn't plant a foot. He was kneeling on the mattress with his arms locked behind him and no idea what was coming next.
Chad lifted the black belt from the floor.
He moved to Robert’s front. The belt came around his throat, loose, just resting there, the weave of it catching slightly against his skin, softer than he expected.
Chad's fingers found the D-rings and fed the strap through, adjusting the tension with both hands until it sat exactly where he wanted it. He checked the space with one finger between the canvas and Robert's throat. Then his thumb pressed against the strap just above the rings and the heat came in, focused and brief, the weave warming and compressing slightly under the pressure, setting the tension in place.
Not a hole. The strap fixed where Chad decided it would stay.
He let his thumb drag slowly along the warmed canvas, just once, checking the work. The weave was still faintly warm under his thumb and Robert felt it against his throat, the heat of Chad's attention in the most literal sense.
He let go. He felt the strap of the belt rest against his dick.
There was now a constant pressure Robert felt every time he swallowed. Or talked. The D-rings sat at the front of his throat, cool metal against warm skin.
Chad picked up the SDN keycard from where it had fallen and held it up for a moment. Robert Robertson III. SDN Dispatcher. Phoenix Program. He flicked it away onto the floor with a small smirk.
"Guess I'm not the one giving orders tonight." Robert felt the makeshift collar shift as he spoke.
"You never were." Chad held up the red tie. "Close your eyes."
Robert closed them.
The glow of Chad's eyes burned in the after-image.
The tie came around his eyes and he felt him knot it behind his head. The light brushing of his fingers to move his hair from the knot and checking the fit.
Robert heard him step back. Then the clink of a metal clasp being undone.
His whole brain redirected. The zip. The sound of denim hitting the floor. A pause. Then the quieter sound, lighter fabric, gone almost before Robert registered it. The rustle of clothes being tossed to the side of the room.
Silence.
The heat in the room had climbed. Robert could feel it on his bare skin from across the mattress, directional, Chad-shaped, somewhere in front of him and slightly to the left.
He turned his head toward it without meaning to.
The collar shifted against his throat. He swallowed.
Chad's hand found the back of his neck, warm, and guided him forward. Robert went, kneeling on the mattress with his arms behind him and his sight gone and his pulse loud in his ears, and let Chad tell him what he wanted without either of them needing words for it.
He found him by heat before anything else and felt Chad's hand tighten in his hair. Not directing. Just there.
Then the collar tightened.
Chad's hand wrapped around the tail of the belt at his throat and pulled. Slow. Just enough to remind Robert it was there, that he was on the other end of it, that the collar hadn't been for show.
Robert's breath left him. Not from the pressure. From everything else.
Chad made a sound above him that made Robert’s stomach flutter, the kind of sound that arrived without warning and landed somewhere low.
Chad pulled on the belt involuntary, Robert took him deeper, the pressure on his throat tightening in a way that electrified everything. He made a muffled, desperate sound himself.
The blindfold sat across his eyes and gave him nothing and he wanted to see him with a frustration that had no outlet except this, except staying present in the only information he had, which was heat and the weight of the hand in his hair, grip tightening, and the collar doing what the collar did every time either of them moved.
He felt Chad's breathing change. Felt his hand tighten again, different this time, the grip shifting from direction to something less controlled, the careful attention of earlier fraying slightly at the edges in a way Robert understood immediately because he'd been fraying since the car.
The hand fell to his shoulder and gripped.
The heat spiked.
Not on purpose. Robert felt it, brief and sharp, and knew the difference between Chad applying heat and Chad losing hold of it for a second.
He kept going.
Chad's hand found his jaw, tilted his head, and the sound he made this time was worse than the first one in the best possible way, low and involuntary, pulled out of him against his better judgment, and Robert felt the makeshift collar shift against his throat, the fabric digging in just the right way and didn't stop and couldn't have stopped and didn't try.
The belt was dropped and both hands were in his hair pulling him flush against him.
Chad was hot, burning, intense and Robert swallowed it all. He reveled in the trembling as he worked him through the aftershocks. Revenge tasted like salt and heat and something he wasn't going to name yet.
The hands in his hair yanked him back.
They were both breathing hard. The air on his face was cold.
Robert felt a small undercurrent of disappointment. If Chad had already finished—
He felt heat move to his right leg. Fingers drifting over the cord there.
It came undone at Robert's right thigh, then his left, freeing his legs. Robert stayed where he was, kneeling on the mattress, wrists still behind him, the belt still present at his throat, the red tie still across his eyes.
Robert felt Chad move to go behind him. A hand on the back of his neck as he was shoved face down onto the mattress. Chad straddled his thighs and leaned forward to press his lips against his ear. Robert felt him, already hard again and flush against his him.
As if he had read his mind, Chad said, “Usually normies have a problem keeping up with me. I could go for a couple of rounds without stopping. Think you can handle that, Robbo?”
These are older calves, jerseys are notorious for continuing to suck into adulthood and some cows just like to suck on ears. I have a cow that does it to her herdmates and calves. This is fine
hello! may i please request yan!nightwing/dick who's presenting us w/ an insane gift (like how cats bring ppl stuff they've hunted)? he probably wouldn't take it too well if we expressed anything less than satisfaction for it lol...
Don’t ask him how he got your blood… and definitely be happy with your gift!!
warning!Catch these hands @honestly-burning - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
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prguitarman
baratheonpilled
janainaart
