A Battle, But Not For Wits (Robert Robertson x Flambae One shot)
Summary: Flambae thinks he should be the boss for the moment.
Content Warning: Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, Hate sex (??), Anal Sex, Rough Oral, Slight Power Play, Slight Impact Play, Breath play, Degradation, Humiliation, Robert Robertson lowkey becomes more and more pathetic, Flambae is just Flambae
Word Count: 3.7k
A/N: Your long awaited fic is here, do enjoy and please do proper aftercare and be safe during sex : 3 okay bye
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Robert didn’t exactly find himself as the type to be in such a compromising position.
After an exhausting day dealing with his team, who seem to be improving little by little, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the gym in the building before heading home with Beef. He kept him occupied with small treats and toys on his doggy bed, patting the fur behind his ears. He earns a yip from the fat chihuahua, as if a signal that he’s free to go.
He expected an empty room, a small but comfortable space for him to do his reps quickly before calling it a day.
What he didn’t expect was for him to have his legs wrapped around the waist of the ex-villain he had once fought. The one who ended up in the Phoenix Program under him. The one who produces so much tension over the comms during missions that others can feel it too.
. . .
Robert was lying back on the bench, alone, bringing the bar of the one hundred twenty-pound weight to his chest. He needed to push himself a little harder if he wanted to be back on his feet as Mecha Man.
He didn’t understand what’s been going on the past few weeks he’s been here. All he needs is to get himself in shape and have a stable job while Royd fixes his fucked up mech. He can feel the days start to blur, and yet through it all, he can’t seem to take his mind off of a certain man.
He isn’t exactly sure what makes him feel that way. Maybe it was the light flirting amidst the insults, the looks shot through conference rooms and the bullpen, or even the bumping of shoulders that the agitating hero gives when passing by. Flambae hasn’t exactly been on his good side, even now as the team starts to get a better sense of Robert and what he’s here for; to help and recover.
But the thick accent, the nice physique, and the ponytail that makes him wonder how his hair looks down brings a strum in his chest he hasn’t felt in a long time. Or probably ever, for that matter.
He grunts, his hands gripping the bar tight as he lifts it twice without a tone of effort. By the fourth rep, though, he was struggling.
The weight started to fight against him, threatening to crush him down onto his ribs and possibly break some bones in the process. Of course, he was too in his head to ask for a spotter. He can feel himself settling into failure…
“What did I tell you about lifting without a spot, Robert?”
Robert damn near drops the weight in alarm. But he manages to keep it up long enough for him to see Chad’s face hover over his upside down. He suppresses a scoff, though it would’ve come out as a strained grunt anyway.
Chad smirks. He was so close to see the faint freckles on his cheeks, but didn't move to grab the weight. Instead, he lets him writhe under the bar for just a little longer. It was nice seeing him like this; cheeks flushed, grunting and struggling to pull up, looking into his eyes as a reluctant plea for help.
Finally, not out of guilt but out of some sort of sick sadism, he pulls up the weight with one arm, hooking it back onto the handles. “Damn, one hundred and twenty pounds? You must really think you’re hot shit.” He chuckles.
Robert sits up and huffs, looking behind him at Flambae with a snarl. “Something wrong with increasing your weights? You don’t stay stuck at 5 pounds forever, you know.”
Chad only leans against one of the machines, crossing his legs at the ankles and doing the same with his arms.* “I know that. Still, I told you about having a spotter. You must be scared to ask, Bob Bob.”
A small pause lands in the room. Robert leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and rubs his face. Flambae sighs, almost deludingly annoyed, before he approaches Robert and lands a hand on his hair.
The same way as the first time he caught him without a spotter. Except this time he felt his fingers comb through his hair and lightly grip, just firm enough to tilt his head back in a gentle gesture.
“You can ask me to spot you. Don’t be such a bitch and die just because your frail normie body can’t handle it.” He leans his face in.
Robert keeps his eyes on Flambae as he speaks on his offer. Half of him wanted his pride to take over and say “No, anyone but you, actually.” But another part of him, the part that simmers quietly under this facade, wanted him more than ever to be watching him. To stare down at him and watch him squirm under the ever-growing mass and not let him up until he sees fit.
So, with a click of his tongue, he smacks the bigger man’s hands out of his hair and rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
It didn’t hurt to just have a spotter anyways, did it?
The first two sets until failure were fine. Robert would struggle for a moment, and Flambae would give small words of encouragement. It was all to no avail, though, as Robert ends up tuning him out to focus on the poundage. Then that’s when Chad would hold up the bar.
As the third set came around, Robert started to notice that Chad was slacking. Well, not exactly slacking. More like letting him sit longer and longer with the weight.
In the fifth set, Flambae can tell Robert is about to drop the weight, and at one point he did, only for him to catch it right before the metal squashed him.
Robert wanted to choke him out so bad. Here he was, offering to be a spotter but not even doing anything a spotter is supposed to. What was the point?
On the last set, he was failing, but Chad could tell he could get one more in. He crouches at the side of the bench and gives Robert an up-down before speaking.
“Come on, bitch. My Mecha Man wouldn’t let the bar fall on him.”
His Mecha Man. Now he was just teasing.
But somehow, he pushed through two reps more before he finally failed. Flambae grabs the load and sets it down. Robert gasps, and Chad would be lying if he said it was something other than sweet.
“Good boy.”
As if on instinct, Robert stands and looks at Flambae. “Remind me to never have you as a spotter again. What the fuck were you doing?” He snaps in a firm voice.
Chad snickers and stands up straight. “Relax. I’m only trying to push your potential.”
“More like pushing my potential to die.”
“Oh, don’t be a pussy, Mecha Dick.” The hothead approaches him. “Besides, you know you’re better than how you're performing now. What’s wrong? Am I being too mean to you?”
Robert doesn’t respond. He begins to turn his head away, but not before Chad grabs his chin and makes him face him again.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, or is that too hard for you, too?”
Robert wishes the teasing would stop for just a minute. He hated to stand down, but he knew if he stood up any longer then his cock would be at attention in no time. He didn’t know what he wanted; to just give in to his desires and hope that he was reading this fucked up situation right, or to sock him square in the throat for speaking to him like some kid.
He sits down on the bench, looking up at Chad with disdain on his face. “Do you always have to be this irritating? It’s like you’re always around, and I’m starting to think it’s not by coincidence either.”
Chad looks down at Robert before sitting down on the bench next to him and placing a leg on top of the other. “You really think I’m following you around? Please, if anything, that’s below me.”
“There are a lot of things above you, too.”
Flambae turns his head toward Robert, defensive. “I can tell you’ve never had your ass handed to you until your suit exploded.”
Robert glares. “Try me.”
They stare at each other for a while. Robert knew that if Flambae got even the tiniest bit angry, he would be done for. He almost didn’t survive when he confessed he was Mecha Man, after all.
After a moment of silence on Chad’s side, Robert gets up. “Exactly.”
This sets off Chad, which is evident by the way he shoots up off the bench and shoves him hard. In response, Robert stumbles and immediately gets into Flambae's face.
“What the fuck?!” He says in a firm tone.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Mecha Dick. I will prove to you that I am way better than you think I am.” Flambae jabs his Robert’s chest with a finger, and this causes a small scuffle.
Robert grabs Flambae's offending hand and smacks it away, which Flambae retaliates by gripping the jacket of his workout clothes. Robert does the same to his hero suit, and they both push against each other. Grunts were sounding off the walls and shoes scuffled on the floor.
Finally, at the peak of the moment, Flambae pinned him harshly against the wall. Robert lands against the surface with a groan. Their faces were inches apart, any closer and they’ll—
Flambae stops, his hands still grasping him. The truth is he was frustrated. The underlying tension everywhere he sees Robert had developed a hill of pent-up feelings for him. And it’s been simmering along the outline of his being, which he ends up micro-expressing by these glances, these seductive insults.
But now, it was exploding in real time. And he wishes it were anywhere else but in front of Robert.
He yanks him off the wall before slamming him back again. He was indecisive now.
Or was he?
His hands yank him forward once more, but this time to plunge his lips onto Robert’s. This was a need to let it out, and he expected Robert to just push back. This was his boss, after all.
But when he feels a jerk forward into the other man’s body, and a return of the kiss, it is clear that this is really happening.
Robert’s kiss was weird, however. Maybe a mix of pride and battle for the dominant male, confident that he could at least be better than him in one thing.
He wouldn’t let Robert win that either.
His hand once again combs through his hair before gripping the locks firmly. Robert gasps, lips parting. Flambae takes advantage of this and invades his mouth with his tongue. His free hand lands on Robert’s waist and tugs him forward, eager to make him feel the print of his cock getting harder against his sweatpants.
Robert was the first to part away from the kiss, panting with a string of saliva still connecting their lips. “Oh, I cannot stand you.” He pants, his hand wiping at his lips. Swiping the spit off was futile, though, as Flambae immediately kissed him once again.
The struggle from them both was noticeable, still pushing at each other's bodies, but their minds were on something more intimate and competitive.
Who will come out on top?
Flambae’s hand on his waist skims up his jacket, finding his chest and swiping a hand over his nipple before pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. He felt Robert jolt and grab at the deep V-neck of his suit. When Chad pinches harder, Robert claws at the hem, pulling it down off his shoulder.
Robert was losing, and it would be only a matter of time before he was completely gone. It was like his thoughts were finally organizing in his brain despite the buzzing situation. Maybe he longed for this. When was the last time he even had sex? He wouldn’t be surprised if it was never, especially with a man.
Flambae pulls at his hair, this time harder, making him tilt his head back. Flambae instantly bites at his soft spot, as if immediately detecting it. With heavy embarrassment, Robert moans and wraps his hand around the nape of Chad’s neck.
“This is all your fucking fault, bitch.” Chad growls, muffled by his nipping at Robert’s neck. He takes off the other sleeve of his suit in the process. “You test me everyday. I’m so fucking sick of you.”
Robert feels pressure on his head, giving a cue to get on his knees. Chad pushes him down roughly, looking down at him. “I can see you know where you belong. Admit that you lost, Bob Bob. C’mon. Say it.” He demands, grabbing his chin and yanking his face up.
Robert gulps, and when he doesn’t answer fast enough he earns a hard slap to his cheek. “Speak, bitch.”
Finally, after his brain blanks, he groans. “I lost.” He mutters.
“Louder.”
“I lost!” He says, enough for it to almost echo off the gym walls. Flambae smiles and rubs the cheek he offended. “Yeah, that’s good. You keep shit-talking, so I know you can use that mouth really well, can’t you?”
Begrudgingly, Robert pulls down the rest of Flambae’s suit, exposing his already erect cock. It was a reflection of what Flambae thought of himself.
Perfect. How annoying.
Flambae notices his expression of slight awe, and unfortunately it inflates his ego. He holds his cock up in Robert’s face, his free hand pinching his cheeks together and letting his lips fall open.
His tip graces Robert’s lips, and he could almost fall out right then and there. His mouth was so warm, he wanted to let his cock sit in there for hours. But he had himself to prove.
He slides into his awaiting mouth and shudders. It’s like heaven in one man alone. He bites his bottom lip, seeing Robert slightly gag on his length. He snickers and cups his cheeks. “Relax.” He says it more softly than he intended.
Flambae goes at his own pace, hissing while his hips jerk and hit Robert’s face repeatedly. Robert gropes his thighs for stability, trying his best to relax his jaw. He had to open it a bit wider, given Flambae was definitely bigger than what he considered big himself.
“Oh shit, you…” He trails off, his breath hitching, “You’re definitely better at one thing, that’s for sure.” He says before pressing Robert’s face down to the base.
Robert gags, but stays down through it all. No way was he going to tap out. His nose brushes against the patch of Flambae’s hair, and he almost melts at the natural scent.
In the middle of his bliss, Flambae suddenly pulls his mouth off of him. Robert gasps for air, groaning as he leans forward, pressing his cheek against his cock. The dilated and pleading eyes of his sends Flambae into an almost sadistic euphoria.
The saliva drips from Robert’s chin almost shamelessly now, and this time he doesn’t even bother to wipe it off. In fact, he goes right back in and brings himself back to the hilt. He wanted to feel the intricate veins on his dick, the tip of his tongue sliding back with what little room it had and tracing the lines.
Flambae shakes, his hand tightening on Robert’s hair. “Fuck, gonna cum down this loser throat of yours.” He rasped.
Robert could feel the thick ropes spewing down his tongue and throat, and it was quickly building in his mouth. Even with it full as Chad moves him away, his dick still twitches and semen coats his face.
Flambae husks as he milks himself out. “Swallow it.”
Robert rolls his eyes before he swallows the cum in his mouth. It tasted sweet with a hint of..ash? Flambae crouches and chuckles smoothly. “That’s good. Here.” He wipes the cum on his face and probes his coated fingers into Robert’s mouth.
Robert hums as he licks his fingers clean. Flambae smiles and gives him a deep but brief kiss as a reward. “Are you a good boy? Huh? A good set of holes for me?”
Robert nods. At this point, he knew he was the loser, the fight ended just as quickly as it had started. But he didn’t care, as long as he had closure for whatever they had going on during missions and shifts. Robert was his boss in everything, telling him what to do during missions and where to go, all day everyday. Why couldn’t he just let it go and let Flambae take the lead?
. . .
Flambae’s hand wraps around Robert’s neck, gripping well enough to threaten a cut of oxygen, but not enough to kill him. Even if he wanted to.
His other hand pulls in Robert’s hips roughly, making his ass hit against them hard. Robert lies on the bench under him, jacket wrinkled and lifted over his chest. His neck was littered with hickeys and bruises. He moans, both low and high, fisting Chad’s hair. It had long been out of his ponytail now, cascading down to make a curtain for the two.
Robert grunts loudly, his free hand scratching at the bigger man’s back. His entrance felt like it was going to break, but in such an amazing way. He can feel Flambae’s dick going deeper and deeper with each hard thrust, and each brutal punch at his prostate erupts a whine from his mouth. He can hear his speech dumbing down to incoherent words and obvious noises. This reaches Flambae, which in turn makes him pick up speed.
“I loathe you most of the time, but I wouldn’t mind fucking you like this again. Just for a reminder of what you are to me.”
Robert only sputters a broken cry since he felt another hit to his prostate when he tried to answer. Poor guy.
Flambae lets go of his neck and moves his hand down to Robert’s cock, pumping it slowly and torturously. “Don’t cum until I say so.” He says when he senses Robert already on the edge of release. He wanted him to marinate in the fact that he was never going to top him. At least in this field.
Robert groans in frustration, his nails digging a bit deeper into Chad's back in resentment. Chad hisses at the light pain and huffs, chuckling. “Aw, Bob Bob. You think this is unfair?”
“It is unfair.” He manages to choke out. Another hit to his prostate results in his head falling back against the bench. “So fucking unfair…” he whines.
Flambae looks at his dazed face and cups his chin. “But you seem to like this. God, I can’t believe you’re Mecha Man. Mecha Man likes dick from an ex-villain. Cute.”
Then, as if to rub salt on the wound, he raises Robert’s legs from his waist to over his shoulders, pounding him in a frenzy. Skin slapping against skin echoes in the gym and almost breaks out into the hallway.
Robert’s mouth slacks open, his eyes rolling back and fluttering. “Oh my fuck—“ he’s cut off by Chad covering his mouth. Robert lets out a loud groan, one that could definitely have gotten them caught had he not muffled him in time.
“Shut up, damn, it can’t be this serious.” He teases, his hand smoothing over Robert’s tip.
Robert was shaking with tension at this moment, the string so ready to snap. His noises were completely broken, if you were to pass by the room you’d think Flambae added women to his roster.
“Please let me cum!” He says unprovoked, almost on the verge of crying. But of course, it doesn’t seem to go to Flambae yet since he was restrained by his mouth.
Chad raises an eyebrow. “Huh? What did you say? You want me to go faster?” He smirks. He knows exactly what he said, but he wanted to ignore it for the sake of his own pleasure.
Without waiting for a denial, he increases the pace, grasping Robert’s thighs and holding them against his chest. “Shit, I hope I win next time too. I need to ruin you like this again.”
After a few more thrusts, Flambae finally grows curious enough to let him cum. How would he look?
“Cum, bitch.”
As if his penis heard, Robert’s back arches up and he pants loudly under Flambae’s hand. It only served to heighten the orgasm more, like his fucked up noises are cut off and transferred instead as a feed into his orgasm. It shatters his senses, making him pulse a few times as his cum squirts onto his stomach lewdly. They both huff and puff, coming down from the intense intercourse
Finally, Flambae pulls out and stands up straight. “What a mess. Fucking weirdo.” He deadpans.
Robert frowns in the midst of his recovery. “You can shut up, you started this...” He scoffs and closes his eyes.
Chad adjusts his clothes and looks around the room, finding a small basket with towels. “I could’ve burned you alive instead, so be grateful. At least I proved myself to you.” He saunters to the towels and picks one up. “That being said, you were moaning like a fucking girl. Almost turned me off.” He jokes, throwing the towel to Robert.
Robert catches the towel and wipes himself off, just a little embarrassed. “Okay, I get it. You won.” He sighs.
Flambae crouches next to him, studying silently as Robert’s chest rises up and down. “You know I don’t actually hate you, right?”
“Really? I almost couldn’t tell. You looked like you were going to beat the shit out of me in the beginning.”
Chad laughs. “I was just conflicted…I guess. I still find you annoying as fuck, though. That’s definitely not a lie. Don’t say you’re better than me just because you’re Mecha Mann and you fucked me up twice.” He stands and adjusts his suit before walking to the door. “This is just my revenge…or something. Fuck you.” He says. He turns back and looks at Robert for one more scan. You can almost see the care in his eyes before he leaves the gym.
Robert looks at him as he walks off, and he grabs his pants. He puts them on and disinfects the bench and the floor. The last thing he needed was Waterboy growing suspicious.
That was a well-needed loss.
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