flambae’s thighs around robert’s head.. and robert is eating him out while flambae is trying to push his head away, and he’s whining in overstimulation… yes send tweet oh and let’s throw in some omega verse too with, OBVIOUSLY flambae as the omega and robert as the alpha
A job goes wrong and Flambae winds up drugged into heat. Luckily, Robert is there to take care of him and make him feel safe.
Ao3 link or fic under the cut
Everyone and their dispatcher at the office knows that Flambae and Robert are going out. A lot. So much so that if Flambae doesn't show up at Robert's cubicle for both lunch break and after the final bell, even Chase started to worry. Thankfully, that only happened once, when Flambae and Prism were going out for drinks, which was preplanned. Robert hadn't been worried, Chase… Chase took some convincing. It is nice that Chase worried, though, because it meant Robert didn't have to ask Chase to take Beef home when he was going out to dinner with Flambae. Chase just scooped Beef up in his arms whilst warning Robert about the dangers of unprotected sex.
It doesn't help that Robert reeked of Flambae constantly. Robert would arrive at work in the morning, Flambae scents him (even if the two of them spent the night together). Any time Flambae would return to headquarters to "rest" after a job, he would pass by the bullpen and scent Robert. Usually with his wrists… after Robert told him off for using his neck. Then there was every lunch break where Flambae would find every excuse to be in Robert's proximity, calling him a 'bitch' should he protest the arm wrapped around him while trying to eat. Flambae did not move his arm. Robert stopped complaining because he really, truly, did not care. If Flambae needed to constantly scent him at every opportunity, Robert wasn't going to get in the way—he clearly had some sort of anxious attachment disorder that he wasn't comfortable talking about, which suited Robert just fine, since Robert could breath deeply whenever he started overthinking if he was worth a relationship.
Eventually, Robert began to look forward to Flambae's copious scenting. The haze of Rosemary had become his new normal, standing out in such stark contrast to the suppressants, which had kept his nose permanently numbed. He stopped taking them when he ran out of money maintaining the Mecha Man suit, and those four months in a coma had flushed the withdrawals from his system. He had woken up with a clean bill of health and absolutely no coping mechanisms to deal with the clamouring myriad of pheremones that came with everyday life. Pheremones he should be used to, as an adult alpha, had he not been on suppressants since the age of fifteen, when he presented. His father had all but shoved them down his throat; desperate for his father's approval, Robert had popped them like they were anti-depressants. Unfortunately, they only made his depression worse and made the chronic pain all that sharper, severing his brain from its only constant distraction by effectively neutering him. Having Flambae's scent constantly covering him was doing wonders to help his brain adjust to the new normal. Slowly, even if their relationship only technically started after Shroud's death (Flambae had been scenting him long before that, using every excuse in the book), when Flambae grabbed Robert in the parking lot and drunkenly smashed their lips together. That—had been a lot of HR violations. And reports. So worth it in the end.
Speaking of slow, however, Robert felt like he was waiting for Flambae to finish his job for fucking eternity. For once in his life, he wanted to leave the office on time (they had dinner reservations), and Flambae was dicking around! God. Just his luck.
"Yo, Flambae, hurry up and finish—I'd like to go home this millennium," Sonar whines over comms.
No reply came. Robert furrows his brow, squinting at the stalled icon on the monitor that should have filled out by now. Instead, it sits stalled, as if someone has frozen time.
"Bae? You good?" Prism chimes in, her voice peaking anxiously.
Still, no response. What the fuck is going on?
"Um, I'll check it out. There's a camera that should…" Robert drags his mouse across the screen; luckily, the camera doesn't have an extra layer of security on it. "Holy fuck," he all but gasps when the feed pops up on his screen.
Flambae, a man he's seen pick (verbal) fights with the sun for daring to give him an uneven tan line, is cowering. The camera isn't very high quality, but from the puddle on the ground beneath him, Robert can guess that he's drenched in something—likely water. He's pinned up against the end of an alley, trying desperately to start his flames. Robert can see Flambae's mouth moving, but the lack of comm chatter tells him that Flambae's earpiece is busted. Since the earpieces are waterproof, amongst other things, it must have been intentionally damaged. Judging by the haze of a bruise on Flambae's face, Robert doesn't have to guess how. But, he can't spare a moment to mull it over, because he's watching six guys advance toward his boyfriend—who the fuck gangs up on someone six to one? Scratch that; Robert doesn't want to know.
What he does want to know is how a simple drug bust turned into this!
"Who's still in their uniform?" he rushes through comms, unable to pull his eyes from the monitor.
"Bitch, what the fuck do you mean 'uniform'? Do we look like we work for fucking Tago to you?!" Robert's not sure if Prism is pretending to be offended or is actually genuine. And he's not exactly in the mental state to give a fuck right now.
"Your costumes! Fuck! Now is not the time—someone needs to get to Flambae now. He's cornered down an alley and can't light himself to get out of there. I need someone quick—"
"I am already outside, Robert Robertson. I will return shortly with your lover," Phenomaman announces, followed by a loud crack ripping through comms as he fails to mute before taking off. Robert will scold him later (probably not). Right now, he's too preoccupied watching the camera for Phenomaman's arrival.
The men are getting closer now, and Flambae is realizing he can't climb out of the alley or run past them. Robert's heart pounds in his chest as he tries desperately to find something to hack that would give Flambae time to run. The other man might possess superhuman strength, but that doesn't mean he can take six guys at once. Not without the rest of his powers.
As he waits anxiously, Robert is struck with a thought: why hadn't the assistance alarm gone off when Flambae's earpiece was damaged?
The comms are clamouring as everyone realizes the gravity of the situation; mostly, people are squabbling if they should go after Phenomaman, despite the alien being the only one who could reach Flambae in time. By the time even Sonar reached them, Phenomaman would (hopefully) be on his way back. Robert has mostly tuned them out, too distracted by his racing heart to join in.
Pulling open the comm list, he watches the little icons, and it strikes him. Flambae's earpiece isn't damaged.
It's turned off.
His gaze snaps back to the cornered Flambae as the perps get close enough to touch him. Flambae manages to break one of their noses before two grab him at the same time, overwhelming him. Then Robert sees it, the stain of fear in Flambae's eyes as he glances at the camera, quickly averting his gaze when he sees it pointed directly at him. Something twists in Robert's gut as the final missing piece of the puzzle clicks into place. Flambae knows where this is going, he's resigned himself to it, and he shut off his microphone so Robert didn't have to hear it.
Robert's blood boils as he frantically types across the computer, grabbing an identity on one of the criminals. A laundry list of petty crimes comes up, alongside several instances of rape, drugging and sex trafficking. Enough to put these men away for years if there were to be a repeat offence, especially one caught on tape. Robert's grateful the calls are recorded, so he doesn't have to feel sick pressing a button to record this.
Luckily, as Robert is making his record of the criminals, a loud crack sounds through the comms, echoed by the sound of someone's jaw breaking. Phenomaman has finally arrived on scene, taking out one of the six, who bounces off the brick wall as if he were a dodgeball. The body crumples to the ground. Robert busies himself getting the police on scene, filling dispatch in so that Phenomaman or Flambae didn't have to. Yes, they wanted to file charges. Yes, they had evidence. Yes, just come by SDN on Monday for the reports. Robert sends an email to Blonde Blazer that the police will be coming by, and links her to the file.
"I have dealt with the criminals," Phenomaman growls with more disgust than Robert has ever heard him muster in the months they have worked together. Robert watches the alien bend over and spit on the body of the last one to go down. "You do not know this, criminal scum, but I have just greatly offended you by Urgot-52dc customs."
The criminal just groans in response. Technically, by Earth customs, Phenomaman isn't far off.
"What did he do? What's going on?" Prism cuts in over comms.
"Yeah, fill us in! Some of us don't have big screens that we can watch security cameras through!" Punch-Up echoes loudly.
"Phenomaman spit on one of the guys—after he won the fight," Robert relays, not bothering to correct Punch-Up on the size of the screen. He really doesn't have the energy right now.
"Robert Robertson, your lover is—" Phenomaman starts, stopping abruptly as Flambae's knees give out beneath him. Phenomaman is barely able to catch the unconscious body before it hits the ground, taking off immediately afterwards. The sirens arrive on scene just as his feet leave the ground.
"I am sorry, Robert Robertson, I would have stayed for the police had I known they were—"
"No, no, it's fine, Phenomaman. Just focus on getting back; the police have been handled. This is Robert signing out for the night."
Robert doesn't wait for his headphones to hit the desk before he's racing off down the hall. The office is completely dark, everyone having already gone home, as the Z-team was stuck with the late shift (again). Chase took Beef home at least an hour ago. For once, it worked in his favour, as the clear hallways enabled Robert to rush straight down the stairs and out the lobby doors to meet Phenomaman at the doors. He has Flambae bundled in his arms, staring down at him with a soft, concerned look.
"Humans are so fragile," Phenomaman whispers, as per usual.
"Yeah, buddy, we are," Robert sighs, gesturing him inside.
Flambae is still soaked, dripping on the floor and shaking in Phenomaman's arms. At least he's conscious, though from the bleary eyes, Robert can't tell quite how conscious he is. Taking a sniff of the air to assess if Flambae required immediate medical assistance, he runs nose-first into a wall of scent. Rosemary clings to his nostrils and claws down his throat, smothering him with the help of the scent of charcoal. Something that Robert has only smelt tangled in a mess of limbs with Flambae.
Oh, fuck.
The doors slam open as Prism comes rushing toward them, followed by the rest of the Z-team. Robert can't spin around and throw his arms up fast enough.
"Everybody out! Now!" He shouts, his heart hammering in his chest. That prowling thing caged in his chest for most of his adult life gnaws on the bars, as his omega's preheat clouds his head.
Prism stops short, sniffing the air. Robert can't see behind her sunglasses, but he knows the moment she clocks what's going on, because she spins around and agrees with him. With her help, Robert manages to get the whole Z-team to go home, and Phenomaman to bring Flambae to the infirmary. Luckily, a doctor is always on call, monitoring patients. One quick check-up reveals Robert's worst fears: Flambae was drugged into pre-heat. Robert feels like he's going to be sick. Robert barely makes it through the exam—he wants to punch something. Anything! Yet, Flambae can barely keep his head up, the sedation still pulsating through his veins, delaying the drug's effects, and he has been using Robert's chest to stay upright ever since Phenomaman cautiously set him down. So, Robert stands stock still throughout the entire check-up, mentally warring with himself at the dubious nature of taking Flambae home tonight. Sure, they discussed spending Flambae's next heat together, but a drug-induced heat? Robert's not sure Flambae won't kill him (or worse) if Robert lays so much as a finger on him. Robert's also not sure Flambae won't kill him if he doesn't help him through this.
Robert still hasn't reached a consensus by the time the doctor gives Flambae a clean bill of health. Regardless, he lets out a deep sigh of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding in. And winds up with a lung full of pre-heat pheremones on the inhale. His head swims woozily, suddenly overwhelmed by a scent so palpable that Robert can taste it. Somehow, he thinks of Christmas—the turkey always smelt like Rosemary. Maybe if he could just bury his face in Flambae's neck, this whole shit storm will go away and…
He snaps himself out of it when the doctor says they're free to go. Fuck, he needs to get a grip on this now!
To Phenomaman's credit, despite the awkward conversation, he stays by their side to help, offering to fly both of them home to deal with this mess in privacy. Robert's not sure he would be able to get Flambae up the stairs to the other man's flat otherwise. No way were they going back to Robert's place; Flambae needs his own nest, and Robert doesn't have nearly enough blankets for one. Besides, Robert's neighbours don't need to be subjected to… whatever this will end up being. Flambae's flat is at least soundproof (Robert hasn't dared to ask why yet). There's also a scent blocker by the door, which seals the apartment up pretty good—that Robert understands, you don't need to be an Omega to know a heat in an apartment complex can be dicey if the pheremones start leaking out from under the door. Robert hates to think what Flambae did before his gig at SDN. Villian work doesn't exactly pay top dollar.
Phenomaman lands on the balcony, and Robert checks that the doors open first before thanking the other man for his assistance. He smiles and wishes Flambae well, still a little confused about the whole Alpha, Omega, Beta dynamic thing. Robert tells him to call someone on the team and ask them to explain it, again—mostly jokingly, and realizes a moment too late that Phenomaman takes nearly everything he says literally. Fuck. If Flambae doesn't kill him by Monday, whichever unfortunate member of the Z-team has to explain that one will.
The flat has always smelt like twenty-dollar cigarettes and spices Robert can't name. True to Flambae's love of cooking, the kitchen is the most expensive room in the place, with equipment that could fix Mecha Man ten times over. That small, starving part of Robert that spent nearly a decade keeping Mecha Man going thrashes in his stomach every time he lays eyes on the place. There's a reason he spends most of his nights staying over, and Robert would be a liar if he said it wasn't partially to do with Flambae's cooking. He knows it's traditional for an Alpha's den to be the safe haven where an Omega builds their nest, yet Flambae's place has always felt more like home than his childhood home ever did. Same with his apartment.
Now, with a delirious Flambae hanging off his shoulder, Robert feels the same sinking feeling in his chest. This is his home—both of theirs—they had meant to come back here tonight, after their reservations, cuddle up on the couch and watch that new science fiction movie that just came out. The one that Robert was obsessing over, which Flambae claimed he only tolerated because he found the leading actor hot and heard there was a scene with full frontal nudity. Robert knew it was a bald-faced lie: twenty minutes into any movie, regardless of genre, he'd look over at Flambae and see the other man watching intently. Within the next week, Flambae would either recreate a meal from the film or one inspired by it, and Robert would have to keep his mouth shut because if he brought it up, Flambae wouldn't do it again for at least another two films.
Robert kicks his shoes off outside, hoping it won't rain. He'll chance the rain over Flambae setting him on fire for wearing shoes in his flat.
Robert drops his jacket on the couch, along with his backpack, as they walk past. It's large, long and bright orange, with a matching footrest. The whole room shares Flambae's costume's colour palette, with a smoky ash wood flooring, red cabinets in the kitchen, a yellow accent wall, and absolutely no clutter on the floor. Even the karaoke machine has a little cabinet that rolls out when not in use.
Flambae's room is on the same wall as the television. Robert slips inside easily, listening to the other man mumble something and stumble forth. Then, before Robert can catch him, Flambae drops face-first onto the bed with a tiny whimper that catches in Robert's throat. Scenting the air, he nearly gags at the scent of stress overpowering the artificially sweet, drugged-heat pheromones.
Without touching Flambae, Robert removes his shirt and drops it onto the foot of the bed.
"Hey, so, I'm not going to do anything to you. You know that, right?" Flambae rolls onto his back, reaching for the edge of his suit and staring up at the ceiling. Robert scrambles and grabs his wrists, leaning over the bed next to Flambae's legs, not wanting to worsen the situation. "No. I mean it. I'm going to go down the hall, get the blankets, like we discussed, and then I'll order us something to eat. No one's going to make you do anything you don't want to, Chad. I promise."
Robert's still getting used to calling Flambae 'Chad'. Even if it is Flambae's name, Robert can't avoid early 2000s meme culture.
"I'm in heat," Flambae chokes out, his breath stuttering at the effort it takes to grind out the words.
"Someone drugged you. I'm not taking advantage of you like this." It should be obvious—God, why isn't it obvious?
Flambae squeezes his eyes shut, eyebrows knitting together: "Is it something I did? Do you not want me because you saw—?"
"What? No! Flam—Chad, you were drugged into heat and almost fucking raped! Of course, I want you, but not like this. I will help you through this, I swear, but I'm not some knot-headed loser who's going to jump the gun on the account of some assholes shitty actions."
Flambae's lips crease together, and he lets out a shaky breath.
"Thank you, bitch."
"For what? You don't have to thank me for not—"
"No; for sending Phenomaman," Flambae grinds out as if he has to physically pull the words from his throat.
"You don't have to thank me for that either—actually, please don't thank me for that. Anyone in my position would have sent someone to your aid. Fuck, the entire Z-team was ready to mobilize to come save you. It's just that Phenomaman was faster. Next time, all you have to do is ask."
Flambae draws his feet up onto the bed, folding his knees in the process as if he wants to curl into a ball but can't with Robert still holding his wrists.
"I didn't want you to hack the camera and…" He chokes on his words, trailing off.
Robert can find his meaning hidden in the sodden silence of the flat. He leans down and presses the gentlest, softest kiss he can muster to Flambae's forehead.
"We will always come to your aid. Those perps are going away for a very long time, if Phenomaman didn't kill them already. He really wasn't pulling those punches. Now, I'm going to leave the room and let you change into something comfortable. Or, take a shower. Whatever helps you feel comfortable. Just, please, don't strip and present yourself. I'd love the surprise any other day, just not when you're drugged."
"Too afraid you'll jump my bones like a knot-headed bitch at the sight of my perfect ass?" Flambae teases, finally opening his eyes to meet Robert's gaze with a cheeky grin.
"Oh, yes, I would absolutely lose all self-control and morality the moment I saw your plumb ass stuck up in the air," Robert says sarcastically, letting go of Flambae's wrists and sliding off the bed. "Now, out of your costume, before you soak it through."
Leaving Flambae to sort out his situation, Robert pads down the hall and retrieves the box of nesting materials. Flambae doesn't keep them on the bed, to prevent them from being burnt or damaged, which Robert understands wholeheartedly after he had to buy new sheets their first night together. Good thing SDN is finally paying him now, instead of his salary just reading "Pending Review."
As he's walking back slowly, his phone rings. Without looking at the name, he picks it up, stopping in the middle of the hallway as he hears the water turn on, indicating Flambae is showering.
"Hey—"
"Don't you 'hey' me, bitch! What the fuck is going on? How is he? Do I need to come over and blind you forever?! Because I will if you lay a finger on a hair on his head!" Prism shouts loudly over the phone. Robert has to pull it back from his face to prevent her from deafening him forever.
He decided long ago, any time Prism calls, it's a speakerphone conversation. Mostly because Flambae would whine if he wasn't included.
"Not unless you count kissing him on the forehead and telling him to take a shower," Robert drones, leaning against the wall.
"Good. What the fuck happened back there?!"
"Flambae got drugged into heat. I don't want to think about what might have happened if I didn't catch on in time," Robert admitted, feeling a cold chill run down his spine at the thought.
"Bitch, you better make sure you assign someone with him all next week—and Punch-Up too, just in case! Because that shit had to be pre-planned!"
"… What do you mean?"
Prism sighed, aggravated: "Flambae can set himself on fire. Yet, they still managed to drug and corner him, and who knows what those motherfuckers would have done if Phenomaman wasn't quicker than a slip-and-slide. You can't tell me that it wasn't planned—you can't get near Flambae without dosing him first, if he don't want you to."
"Shit."
"Yeah, shit is right, you pasty-ass twink!"
Robert raked his hand through his hair, heart beginning to pound in his chest. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't considered it might be premeditated. Because who the fuck premeditates a rape?! Yet… there was an instance of human trafficking on their files… Oh, God.
"Can I call you back? I need to—I need to call Blazer and fill her in. This might not be a Z-team specific thing."
"No need; go take care of him. You can fill me—and the rest of the team—in on Monday. Capiche?"
"Capiche. Thanks, Prism, you calling to check in will mean a lot to him," Robert says soft, glancing down the hall as the water shuts off.
"Of course! I have to make sure my 'Bae is safe, sound and well taken care of. You'd better get him something good to eat tonight. Like pizza, his favourite place is just around the corner, and then you'll have leftovers if you need them tomorrow."
"You're not going to believe this, but you just solved my dilemma over what to order for dinner," Robert chuckles softly, shaking his head.
"Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere, Bob-bert. Ta!"
Prism hangs up before Robert can reach the button. Taking a moment to drag his hand over his face, Robert dials Blonde Blazer's number and fills her in as well. Equally horrified at the implications, she promises to take the situation off his hands and hangs up quickly. By then, the footsteps in Flambae's room have ceased, so Robert picks the basket back up and steps back inside.
He finds Flambae digging the heels of his palms into his eyes with a groan. The room still smells heavily of slick and artificial pheremones, but at least the stress has dissipated.
"How does pizza sound? Prism suggested it," Robert asks to announce his presence.
Flambae's eyes snap to him, hands dropping to snatch the basket away.
"Two larges, or maybe three—you decide. I want a meat lover's and some of those pickled banana peppers. And cheese bread."
Robert doesn't have to ask to know he's talking about the mom and pop's pizza shop around the corner that Prism reminded him about. That's Flambae's usual order to a T.
"Are you going to bitch if I order myself a Hawaiian?"
Flambae tosses his head back and groans loudly from where he's arranging blankets on the bed.
"Ugh! It's not even Hawaiian! Some Canadian guy just read the label on the can and called it that, because the company was literally the Hawaiian Pineapple Company. The fucking name on the canned pineapples!—" Flambae pops up to brandish his finger at Robert, and Robert finally notices that the other man is barely wearing sweatpants. They're slung so low down his hips that Robert flushes involuntarily at the implications— "Royd would be ashamed."
"Jeez, heat makes you really bitchy, doesn't it?" Robert jokes, because Flambae is right, he just doesn't want to admit it.
Flambae snarls at him. Really, truly snarls, to the point that the room sours. Robert swallows thickly (he shouldn't be turned on by this; he should be very much afraid).
Quickly surrendering, Robert holds up his hands: "Alright, alright. Are you going to complain if I order ham and pineapple pizza?"
For a moment, Flambae looks as if he's still going to bite Robert's head off. Then he softens and considers the sentence for a moment.
"Only if you don't whine when I eat it."
"You're in heat, Chad. You can have whatever you want," Robert says without needing to think about it. He would call Phenomaman to buy Flambae Japanese sushi from Japan and fly it to the flat if that's what Flambae wanted. But Flambae wants a large meat pizza from the shop down the street, with banana peppers and cheese bread. Robert adds wings too, salt and pepper, because he doesn't want to get hot sauce on Flambae's nest. Then, before he hits order, he adds a large pepperoni pizza too, in case Flambae gets too clingy tomorrow. Or hungry in the middle of the night.
It isn't until he looks up from his phone, the order placed, that he notices Flambae is staring at him with his mouth slightly agape.
"What?"
Flambae makes a noise akin to a squeak and then quickly averts his gaze to fixate on his nest. So, Robert strips down and offers him his work pants, fetching himself a new pair of boxers and some lounge wear from the dresser drawers Flambae designated to him. The pants are tucked deep within the nest by the time Robert turns back around, with Flambae settled in the middle, gaze awkwardly skittering around the room, never quite landing on Robert.
"Okay, out with it."
"Out with what, bitch?"
Robert sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, then advances to the edge of the bed: "Do you want me to come in?"
"I want you to rail me until I can't tell if my slick or your cum is leaking out of my asshole," Flambae states bluntly, and Robert swallows thickly.
"Well, I'm not doing that—not tonight. But, I can cuddle you, if that will help," Robert offers. No matter how hot Flambae looks and sounds right now, Robert's dick stubbornly refuses to rise to attention. That artificial scent of drugs still permeates the whole room, choking any feeble whisper of arousal brought on by this situation.
Flambae stares at him with the same wide-eyed look again.
"Okay, seriously, what? Did you think I was lying earlier when I said I wouldn't take advantage of you? Because I—"
Robert doesn't get the chance to finish speaking before Flambae has yanked him into the bed. He's smothered by the other man's wispy chest hair and toasty body, with no way to wiggle free. Which suits Robert just fine. Every ache and pain of his desk job (and scars) fades away, even the ones Robert hadn't really noticed to begin with. Cuddling with Flambae has always felt like heaven, even more so now that his face is close enough to the other man's scent gland that he can actually smell Flambae, rather than the drugs.
It isn't until Flambae's shoulders start shaking that Robert realizes he's crying. Caught completely off guard (he'd honestly thought Flambae couldn't cry), Robert freezes. Flambae stiffens in his arms, as if he's assuming he made Robert uncomfortable and is going to pull away. Robert leaps into overdrive, tightening his hold on Flambae and rubbing his back. A small part of his brain starts making soft shushing noises, doing his best to comfort his crying lover. Jesus, this is not how he thought his day was going to end this morning. Could be worse, though; so, he'll take what he can get.
"I did," Flambae squeaks out between shuddering gasps.
"What?"
A beat of silence stretches across them, filled with only Flambae's quiet sobs, and Robert waits patiently—Flambae has never been one to embrace vulnerability. Honestly, Robert's not quite sure if this is the drug or Flambae talking. He's certainly being called a bitch enough for it to sound like Flambae.
Very quietly, nearly smothered by Robert's hair, Flambae admits: "I thought you would come back and smell me and change your mind… bitch."
"I'm a bitch, not an asshole," Robert says immediately, his tongue getting away from him. "Like I told Alice, I'm not some feral animal that's going to jump you the moment I get a whiff of your heat. Besides, I can't get hard with you smelling like this."
Robert would gesture to his dick if his hands weren't currently tied up playing with Flambae's hair. The other man never lets him play with his hair, so this, Robert is taking advantage of. Especially since it seems to be helping Flambae calm down, taking the other man from sobs to snuffles.
Flambae makes a noise as if Robert offended his entire bloodline.
"You smell like the drug: artificially sweet," Robert clarifies, before the fire hero could get any bright ideas.
"Yet, you're still huffing me like you're chasing a high."
"You smell like you, this close."
"Bitch," Flambae mutters into Robert's hair.
"Mm, sure. Whatever makes you happy right now…" he trails off, hind brain coming online. "Your nest is nice, by the way. Sturdy."
"Just don't get pizza sauce on it."
Robert pries himself away from Flambae to sit up and show him an amused smile. Even if his bones ache in protest, chronic pain begging to return to the soothing balm of Flambae's heat. Flambae himself looks dazed, pupils blown wide and his brow pinched together, as if this conversation required every ounce of concentration he has left. Despite the drug's effects, his eyes are red-rimmed from all of the crying, with puffy tear tracks down his face. Robert wipes them away—it's the most he can acknowledge Flambae's crying without being called a bitch, or being punched, and Robert's not that much of a masochist (right now).
"You're an asshole," Robert says, still smiling.
"Bite me," Flambae shoots back.
As requested, Robert leans down and nips the tip of Flambae's nose. The other man lets out an offended scoff, tipping his head to steal a kiss before Robert breaks away.
"Next time. For now, relax. Pizza won't be here for another twenty minutes, so you have time to take a nap and sleep this off." Robert settles back into the nest, letting Flambae pull him against his larger chest.
"I don't need a fucking nap. I need—"
"Not happening and you know it."
"Ugh! You better make this up to me next heat, because I'm seriously debating the merits of grinding on your leg right now."
"If that's what you need," Robert shrugs a little. If heats are anything like ruts, Flambae is being extraordinarily well-behaved. "I won't knot you, but I'm not going to deny you relief."
Flambae opens his mouth to say something, but a loud growl from his stomach cuts him off. Instead, he grumbles: "Maybe later… too hungry right now."
"Pizza's on its way," Robert repeats, patting Flambae's back sympathetically.
"Good," is the last thing Flambae says as he cuddles up closer to Robert. Surrounded by soothing heat, Robert barely notices that Flambae has fallen asleep. He sighs, smiling softly. Flambae may be a handful, even on a good day, yet Robert wouldn't trade him for anything. Even if that means he has to struggle to stay awake to wait for the pizza, surrounded by a heat that begs his body to sleep.
omega flambae riding alpha robert so hard to the point where robert is in tears, whining, and desperately trying to hold on to flambae’s waist… i need that scene in 4k NOW
omega influencer baddie! flambae x regular alpha robert idk 😅😭 maybe not so popular as flambae, and is known as flambae’s tired, calm, but fond, and knows how to deal with flambae’s bs 🙄 and would do anything for flambae, kind of husband yes!
Pregnant omega flambae who suddenly feels insecure of his body, and doesnt want to have sex with Robert anymore, because he doesn’t want him to see his body. Robert notices later on flambae being sort of distant towards him and not letting Robert touch him in any way. He knows throughout the pregnancy that flambae has had a difficult time, especially since he prides in his looks. So he figures out what to do. *takes a deep breath*
Robert prepares a warm, nice, relaxing bath with Chad’s favorite bath fuzzle things (I forgot what they’re called 😭😭😭😭😭) and extra bubbles, with his favorite juice on the side of the bathtub floor. “Babe!” He calls Chad down. “What?” Chad yells back, Robert replies “Can you come here please?”. Chad walks down to the bathroom from their shared bedroom, and sees Robert standing there near the bathtub, with an easy smile on his face. Chad notices the extra bubbles and flowers added inside the water.
“The hell is going on?” Chad asks with a surprised face. “Well, I’ve noticed you’ve been distant a lot lately and I wanted to prepare this bath for you, if it would make you feel better.. I know how much you love baths.” He says to Chad. “Pssht.. I don’t need your fuckass to prepare baths for me. Im still able to do stuff while pregnant you know?” Chad retorts back to him. Robert notices the uneasy look on Chad’s face, and decides to take the risk. It was hard getting Chad to open up about his feelings.
“You know you can tell and talk to me about anything right?” Robert asks with a worried look on his face. Chad stays silent. He steps closer to Chad. “Baby, whats going on? You’re distant from me all the time, you never want me to touch you, and you’re becoming increasingly closed off… you even refuse sex with me.” (OMFG IM CRINGING SO HARD WHILE WRITING THISE UHHEEFF THEYRE SO CUTE ok back to the scene sorry i had to get this out) Tears welled up in Chad’s eyes and he immediately turned his face away. The dam (bruh is that how u spell it im unsure) suddenly burst. Chad immediately started bawling and Robert is unsure what to do. He immediately hugs Chad and squeezes him in his arms. Chad’s sobs vibrate off his chest and he’s shaking, and Robert immediately shifts to sit himself on the toilet seat, and places Chad in his lap and lets him cry a little longer (wait not in a bad way guys not like that shattap). *takes deep breath*
Minutes pass, then hours, and finally, Chad takes a shaky breath. “Im sorry.” He says with a hoarse voice. “I don’t know what took over me. You already know it’s fucking hard for me to do that.. opening up shit or whatever.” Chad says with flushed cheeks. “Of course I know it’s hard for you. That’s why we’re working on it.. remember?” Robert says back. “Do you feel comfortable in telling me what’s wrong now?” Robert asks with an unsecured voice. A silent beat passes, and Robert waits. Chad finally speaks up. “It’s just.. I’m fucking insecure all the time, my body looks so weird, I feel fat all the time, my body looks disgusting, my stomach keeps on fucking getting in the way of things…” He rants on until he’s out of breath. Robert chuckles and shifts Chad in his lap around and gives him a fond kiss on the lips.
Chad is surprised at first, but returns the kiss immediately, with his hands slowly wrapping around Robert’s neck. They kiss a little more and they break off. “Your body could never look disgusting. It’s doing something incredible, by reshaping itself to protect our baby. Thats’s powerful, Chad. I want you to know It’s okay to miss your body, and I’m so sorry it feels like a lot. I love you so much.” He ends with a kiss to Chad’s forehead. “Fucking simp” Chad says with a fond eye roll and a smirk. “Oh please, you love it when I’m like this to you.” He says back to Chad. “Yeah you’re like this to me all the time” Chad says with an even bigger smirk. Robert ignores the comment, and they sit there in silence with each other, holding hands and sharing short, but sweet pecks and whispering affirmations to one another.
They later on go to sleep and Chad whispers into the night “Thank you for being there for me.” to Robert’s asleep figure.
The End!!!!!!
ok i’ll probably add more to this and a smut scene but bear with moi, life’s been a littleee busy
BITCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I FORGOT ABOUT THE FUCKINGE BATH WHILE WRITING THISOMG baby the water is COLDDDDDDDDDD atp but it’s alr chad can just heat it up again
ufgh probably gonna be some spelling mistakes 💔
ok i lowkey hate and love writing but i will most CERTAINLY contribute to the pregnant omega flambae diaries if nb wants to fucking do it 🙄 #cowardsinthebuilding (kidding kidding but seriously tho why am i not seeing any pregnant omega flambae? he’s the most pregnant omega to ever pregnant omega..)
