Work Text:
Blessed be the flying death trap, because it held a fresh change of Robbie’s regular outfit and some emergency makeup. Because if he was to be forced to attend a Christmas celebration with his future in-laws, and their future in-laws, too, then Robbie would not do so looking like he’d taken on a cave troll, alas not an overly eccentric figure of speech, and barely made it out alive! Thank-you-very-much!
This was simultaneously the best and worst Christmas celebration Robbie had partaken in. The air was saturated in merriment and, dare he say, familiar love, an intangible warmth filling the building they currently were in. Which was a new one for him. But it was becoming overbearing, with there being just too many people, too much noise, and too much everything else. And don’t get him started on the so-called food. Robbie desperately wanted nothing more than to grab Sportacus and run back to the elf’s childhood home, irrespective of it being on the other end of the settlement and a snowstorm between here and there. No wonder that Sportacus never bothered with more than a token scarf during the winters in LazyTown. Not with winter by the freaking North Atlantic Ocean as a baseline!
And then there was Sportacus, his, and he still couldn’t believe it, fiancé.
The treatment of ridding Sportacus of the last of the alloys seemed to have worked; no longer looking two shades too pale and now being capable of forming full sentences again, and not starting to weep if you accidentally looked at him funny. And instead grinning like a loon from the moment they’d let him out of the sauna earlier that day, rosy cheeked and hopping around like a Duracell rabbit.
Sportacus had wasted no time in showing off the rings with unadulterated glee at the absurdly large dining table, as well with some ill-concealed vindication towards his aunt while at it, though the insufferable woman seemed to have simply switched from sneeringly call Robbie “manneskjan,” to, “púkinn,” instead, because clearly it was too much to expect that Robbie would be allowed to keep that piece about himself for himself, go figure. But hey, nice to know she wasn’t only unpleasant because of the part human bit, he supposed, just regular unpleasant bigot. And then Íþróttaálfurinn had after some visible thought added in, “innipúki,” which had led to Sportacus starting to laugh until he almost fell off the chair by Robbie’s side.
Which was probably nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for leaning in onto Robbie.
“What?” Robbie whispered, “what are they calling me this time?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Sportacus whispered back against him, tickling the side of Robbie’s neck with the hot breath.
Along with a clandestine hand under the tablecloth sneaking its way to the inside of Robbie’s thigh, and squeeze. His perception of the world narrowing down into the sensation of Sportacus’ warm hand, square and firm, with each digit like a branding iron as they dug into his flesh.
Which was yet another reason why Robbie needed to get the two of them out of there, asap.
Yes, the treatment had worked, perhaps a little too well; because Sportacus had also been circling Robbie like a shark all afternoon, taking small nips out of Robbie whenever he least expected it, all with a look in his eyes not appropriate in decent company, much less a family event!
It was driving Robbie crazy, and the blasted elf knew it.
The hand slowly inched upwards and Robbie bit back a desperate noise.
Robbie’s outfit was great for many reasons. Having said that, hiding an erection was, unfortunately, not one of them!
Mind made up, he grabbed the offending appendage, stopping its journey toward his groin, and intertwined their fingers briefly before letting go.
“I think it’s time for us to retire for the evening!” Robbie said too high and bright, and stood up, and narrowly avoided to send his chair clattering.
“Already?” someone of the older elves asked, female, might be Sportacus’ maternal grandmother and hostess, Robbie was too much in a hurry to check, “but we haven’t even gotten to the presents?”
“I agree with Robbie,” Sportacus said and stood up as well, and displayed the biggest amateurish fake yawn that Robbie had ever seen, just knowing it was to mock him and not merely Sportacus’ awful acting skills at play, “I might also have accidentally pushed myself too hard.” A blatant lie if Robbie ever heard one, and he was unsure if he should be aggravated or filled with pride. “We should probably rest before our departure tomorrow.”
Robbie didn’t wait for any more niceties than a loud goodbye targeted at the room as a whole and let Sportacus actually deal with that while he himself donned a borrowed winter coat that made him look ridiculous.
The sound of Frída’s pearly laughter being enough indication that pretty much anyone with eyes knew what was really going on as they left glove in glove.
Or Robbie was just being extra paranoid.
“Smooth,” Sportacus laughed as they traversed the distance, Robbie trusting him to lead them back to the house in the darkness, winds, and icy wet flurry of snow, relatively unscathed.
“I didn’t see you take initiative,” Robbie griped the moment they got inside and hit the lights for the vestibule.
“I’m pretty sure I did,” was the reply, accompanied by another unmistaken touch he felt even through the fluffy winter coat’s backside.
“Sportagrope!” Robbie cried and turned to face his hellion. “What’s-”
His rant stopped in its tracks. Sportacus had already shed his outerwear and was standing right before him.
And if Sportacus had given him bedroom eyes earlier, then the look in them now was nothing but raw lust. The usual electric blue a dark indigo this up close. And Robbie felt many things at once. “Yes?” Sportacus breathed, an exhale tinted by his voice, as he closed the distance between them. The last straw.
Robbie was a goner, well and truly. “You absolute tease!” Grabbing onto the lapels of Sportacus’ vest, Robbie pulled him into a hard kiss, the culmination of frustration and desire after all of Sportacus’ provoking, meeting the keening moan he received with a growl of his own. The nipping sensation of icy noses and lips, against the hot slick of tongues and teeth, until all flesh was blood warm.
Seemed spurred on, Sportacus undid the coat separating them, getting closer, and grabbing onto Robbie from behind for purchase, kneading his cheeks as he started rocking up against him where they stood, using him, and Robbie could feel how hard he was.
And here Robbie had thought that he had been the worked up one.
The movements were sharp and jerky, desperate, and Robbie tried to find a better angle, to create a rhythm. It had some effect, and this time it was Sportacus that growled, and before Robbie knew it, he’d been hoisted up and all he could do war wrap his legs around Sportacus’ waist and allow himself to be carried upstairs into the bedroom, and the narrow bed, they’d shared for the past days.
He was still wearing the stupid fluffy coat when Sportacus dumped him on the bed in the pitch black and started to strip before him, or so Robbie guessed by the noises of zippers and rustling fabric, and he desperately flailed after the light button for the bedside lamp, wanting to catch at least a glimpse of the show.
Finding it just in time for the sight of Sportacus pulling his shirt over his head, stretching his torso with his muscles on beautiful display, Robbie’s gaze followed the hard lines down toward the already undone pants halfway down his thighs, and the imprint of an erection straining against the stretched white cotton of his already snug boxer briefs.
Robbie leaned back and palmed his own growing erection through his clothes, slanting his hips in a slow rhythm. Some perks with the tight outfit Robbie would have to agree, in this setting, especially when Sportacus was liberated of his top, his blond locks a wild mess and eyes big and dark as they stared at Robbie’s hand where he leisurely stroked his swelling cock.
It was hilarious how Sportacus nearly stumbled and fell in his eagerness to get to Robbie, pretty flattering too, with his own pants down to his knees and tripping him. He kicked the last of his clothes off sans underwear and joined Robbie on the bed.
“Are we in a hurry?” Robbie laughed, clasping Sportacus’ shoulders to steady him. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but this clumsy eagerness was usually Robbie’s own schtick. “Wait,” he narrowed his eyes, “you haven’t planned on us trying to elope again, have you?”
Sportacus snorted in humour, his features softening. “No,” he retorted and reached up to caress the side of Robbie’s face, his touch more tender and mindful of the medical plaster hiding the healing head injury, than the groping and manhandling from just earlier and Robbie shivered, “if I had, I would’ve taken us to the airship directly. Also we have to-”
“And we have to bring your dad because of logistics and zeppelins and what not, yes, also please don't mention your dad while we’re about to have sex.” Despite the fact that Robbie was the one to directly mention Íþróttaálfurinn.
“Noted,” Sportacus said, flashing a grimace, before smiling and shaking his head fondly, “but no, we aren’t in a hurry,” then leaned in to give him a slow open-mouthed kiss. Teasing Robbie with a flick of his tongue against the lower lip, before pulling back again, his eyes flitted up and down Robbie’s body, still smiling, but now with that sharper edge to it back in place, hands already moving down to undo Robbie’s vest buttons and belt buckle, he said, “we need to get you out of these.”
“Gladly.”
Good riddance to the coat that went sailing to the floor, soon to be joined by the rest of his clothes until they laid there both in nothing but their underwear.
Knowing each other’s bodies by now, Sportacus held eye contact as he reached inside Robbie’s boxers and took him gently in hand, slow and steady that it was blissful torture, alternating between rubbing the underside with the palm of his hand, to brushing the head with fingertips. Until he was so hard that it hurt and Robbie kissed him to match, clutching the back of his head to bring them even nearer and blindly reaching down to rub Sportacus through his boxer briefs.
Sportacus pulled him out of his boxers to jut out over the elastics and with little effort had Robbie on his back so he could climb on top and straddle him, rocking his still clothed dick against Robbie.
Being used for Sportacus’ own sexual gratification was downright erotic and Robbie had to fulfil that sexual fantasy. Some other day.
He’d like to be an active participant for this one, although this was pretty nice, and he was supposed to be lazy after all, he decided to let Sportacus have his fun for a little while longer, putting his hands behind his head and watched that dark damp spot forming on those white boxer briefs.
However, within clear sight, above the right of Sportacus’ head.
Robbie grumbled out loud and got up on his elbows, “yeah no, this isn’t working for me.”
“What’s wrong?” Sportacus asked. Shifting his weight off Robbie’s hips, and an expression of worry coming upon him so fast that Robbie almost started to laugh at how he could jump between horny to caring like that. “Are you still hurting?”
Robbie’s aches were still there, some faded bruises too, but he’d healed up enough that they were a minor nuisance and not much else than something to gripe about, so no, they were not the source of discomfort. He gestured up to the ceiling. “I feel watched. It’s creepy.”
Sportacus looked up over his shoulder and started giggling.
Johnny B. Badd, grinning back at them and with no doubt a glint in his eyes that were obscured by the dark sunglasses.
Why Íþróttaálfurinn hadn’t done something about this ceiling was absolutely beyond Robbie. Did the older hero not realise that this was not just Sportacus’ teenage crush, but also, because let’s face it, wank material, on full display?!
The suggestive banana sure as hell wasn’t helping!
Sportacus’ laughter petered out and he crowded Robbie, cutting off any other visuals than himself. “Want to switch it up?”
“As long as all your attention is on me,” Robbie complied, shuffling them around. “I don’t like to share.” And with that removed his underwear completely and helped Sportacus shimmy out of his own, his flushed cock hitting his stomach, its head already leaking.
“For me?” Robbie hummed, running his hands up and down Sportacus’ thighs, relishing in how Sportacus’ cock twitched and jumped in response, leaving shiny trails of precum on those abs, how eager Sportacus was for him.
Being a rhetorical question anyway, Robbie settled over him between his legs and started moving, kissing and licking into Sportacus’ already kiss-swollen mouth and enjoying the thrills running through him and enveloping sensation of bliss. Mouthing and nipping the jawline and straining tendons of his neck when Sportacus arched his chin up for access to his sweet spots.
Sportacus might’ve instigated this, but Robbie felt like a giver tonight, considering if they should continue and come like this, locked together as Sportacus drew him in close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and heels digging into the small or Robbie’s back, rocking against another, sliding their erections together. Or, if he should take it up a notch, when Sportacus moaned and buried his face against Robbie’s neck and actually bit him, jolting Robbie at the delectable sting that went straight to his dick and he arched his back.
And then the elf under him started talking.
“I want you inside me,” Sportacus said, soft and wanton, nuzzling the side of Robbie’s head, breathing into his ear. “I need you.”
Robbie swore out loud and ground them together. Just the thought itself, of being inside Sportacus, and the desperate plea from his lips, was almost too much. Had he been twenty years younger he would’ve come right there and then by those words alone.
Yes, yes, he wanted that.
But…
They didn’t get to do that often, correction, sex in general, yes, but not penetrative sex, no. Not with the hassle of pre-planning. Most times they were both in a similar state to this, where the impulse for intimacy and the desire of each other’s climax outweighed premeditation.
Robbie groaned, willing himself to focus, “are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, okay.” Robbie sat up over him. “Do we have any-”
“Already got lube.” Sportacus reached under the pillow and presented a familiar small bottle. At Robbie’s dumbfoundedness, Sportacus looked a bit sheepish. “I grabbed this from the ship earlier,” he explained, giving the bottle a light shake as for emphasis. “And I’ve prepped, uh, earlier, too.”
Oh, this was premeditated, premeditated.
Robbie shook off the stupor and grinned, already on board, and taking charge. “Someone’s been a naughty hero,” he purred, seeing that it had its intended effect on Sportacus, with him squirming and biting his lip at not so much the attempt at dirty talk, but the tone used. He continued and took the small bottle of lube, “let me reward you, properly,” and crawled his way down Sportacus’ body, licking and kissing a trail in his wake, before he got down between the already drawn legs and kneeled there, forcing them wider apart.
“Robbie…” Sportacus keened his name, then let his own head fall with a groan when Robbie started stroking Sportacus’ dick again, only letting go briefly in order to pour the clear slippery liquid onto his other hand.
“I’m going to open you up, nice and slow,” Robbie kept his drawl, then lowering it to a mere whisper, “and then, I’m going to give you all of me.”
“Yes,” Sportacus breathed, “yes, please, yes.”
Robbie hummed and reached down under Sportacus’ balls, following the taint with a steady pressure and circled the rim of his hole, glossing and teasing Sportacus with the tip of his finger until he slipped in both his index and middle finger to the second knuckle, feeling the muscles flutter in Sportacus’ attempt of not instinctively push and instead force himself to relax and let it happen.
“Relax,” Robbie cooed.
Sportacus let out a breathless laugh. “I’m tryi- ah!” he cut himself off, rolling his eyes back.
Robbie had adjusted his position and licked the precum off Sportacus’ dick, before taking him fully in his mouth and pump his hand from root up to his own lips, matching the rhythm of his fingers working in and out of Sportacus’ ass and press against his prostate.
So he might have lied a little about the slow part, but he was going to make it nice.
Briefly, Robbie wondered if the myth of elves’ sexual prowess had anything to do with Sportacus’ sensitivity, or if it was only Sportacus specifically and Robbie was just one lucky guy, because he was so responsive! Robbie had barely started and he could feel how much Sportacus was truly struggling with relaxing, and not start fucking himself on Robbie’s fingers and into his mouth as Robbie let go to hold his hips down and bob his head instead. And either this was also an elf thing or a Sportacus thing, thanks to his disgustingly healthy diet, but Robbie enjoyed the taste of him. A sweet tang, however, there was still that strange off-flavour of the last lingering alloys tainting it.
Another beautiful shrill sound from Sportacus when Robbie swallowed him down and pressed his face against him, trying to stave off his own gag reflex and licked the underside of the shaft, curling his tongue and lap at Sportacus’ balls. Drooling saliva over them both and running down his chin, while now three fingers were stretching and massaging Sportacus’ prostate. Earning him a pair of hands upon him, getting tangled in his short hair, both pushing and pulling at him, making a mess out of it as Sportacus’ entire body quivered. The need for oxygen won out and he pulled off to gasp for air, feeling prideful that he hadn’t choked and started coughing. Before leaning down again past that beautiful dick, glossed with precum and spit, its head pink and swollen where it emerged from when Robbie started jacking him off again and now pay attention to his balls with his mouth, licking and pulling at the sensitive skin with his lips. Grinning, he shuffled further down, retracting his fingers to stroke his own neglected aching cock, smearing it with lube and his own precum that were drooling out of him in a steady stream and had created a puddle on the sheets.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” Sportacus panted, “please, I’m ready. I need you now. I can’t-” and then another whine, too lost to finish.
Though those spoken were the same choice of words from earlier. And having the same effect of almost too much for Robbie to bear. Robbie’s hands were almost shaking in time with his heart when he poured more lube directly on his cock, afraid to even touch himself by now and lined up, pushing Sportacus legs up and apart, almost folding him over. And keenly observed Sportacus’ face when he entered him.
Sportacus let out a long moan, slack-jawed and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. A mix of awe, anguish, relief, and something so bare on his face that it hurt.
Beautiful.
Robbie tore his gaze down and watched, seeing Sportacus open around his cock, watching himself sink in deeper. Sportacus was so tight and hot, enveloping him. There was a whimper in the room and Robbie found that it came from his own parted lips.
He was not going to last.
“I think,” Robbie sucked in a ragged breath, meeting Sportacus’ eyes where he loomed over him, “I don’t think I’m going to make it, you feel so good.”
Sportacus reached up, cradling his head between his hands to bring Robbie down to him. “I was going to say the same thing.”
Robbie let out a little laugh and kissed him, small tender kisses, then lingered to share breath when he started to move, rocking his hips for what the narrow bed allowed, before picking up speed and Sportacus broke away to roll his head to the side with a hiss of pleasure. Robbie cursed the tiny bed and wondered if he could afford the moment to pull out and rearrange their positions or even take the whole thing to the floor, if he could even survive parting. He didn’t think so. Then Sportacus crossed his legs over Robbie’s back, so that decision was taken from him.
The air was cooling his sweat as it ran down his back from the exertion, and he’d wound up placing one foot on the freezing floor for purchase as he now thrust into Sportacus that the headboard was hitting the wall, and Sportacus who was letting out a long string of keening noises and yesses, and swearing, something only happening during moments like these. Robbie was no better off, mumbling a mantra from between clenched teeth.
Fuck, he was beautiful. This man, his. So tight and hot and wonderful and lovely.
Sportacus was his.
No one could take this from him. No monsters, no nothing.
Not even they themselves.
Lost in ecstasy as Robbie chased their pleasure, still begging for him the entire time, Sportacus came under him, painting his stomach with his own seed, screaming.
Too much, and Robbie broke under the pressure and curved his spine from the intensity of his own orgasm, driving in and his hips stuttering as he came deep inside, burying himself to the hilt and forced their joined bodies forward up the bed.
And Robbie was his.
A hand cupped the side of his face, the sting of the tungsten from the edge of the ring catching on his cheek, and he startled. He opened his eyes to find them misted.
The worry was clear in the tender touch, in the tension in Sportacus’ forehead, in the eyes searching his own and drawing him back to the present where they lay interlocked. “Stay with me, Robbie.” Another plea.
It broke something loose in him, out of its confines. Ugly and painfully frail, but finally free.
The first tear fell. Robbie choked out a sob, “you love me.”
Sportacus’ face broke out into a beautiful smile. “I do.” His voice waivered, “I really, really do.”
“I love you so much,” Robbie managed to force out, crying. Sportacus coaxed him close and kissed his forehead, wiping away the tears as they fell. How could he ever have doubted? Yet the realisation had hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest.
Sportacus eased Robbie down to lie with his full weight on top of him, uncaring of the mess they both were in, to rest his head on top of Sportacus’ chest while he cradled Robbie in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings, terms of endearment Robbie had started to recognise while he combed through his hair. An act of soothing them both in their afterglow.
Robbie cracked one eye open, seeing his own adorned hand rest upon Sportacus’ chest, the gunmetal coloured tungsten carbide rise and fall with each breath that his fiancé took. He mumbled into Sportacus’ chest.
“Hmm?” Sportacus noised in question.
“I said, I hope Johnny liked the show.” Blindly waving his arm to strain towards the ceiling for the sake of it.
Sportacus started laughing, jostling Robbie about. “I adore you,” he eventually sighed, light and airy, and continued to scratch Robbie’s scalp.
“Mmmn you, too,” Robbie responded, face already buried against Sportacus as he settled back down.
They would eventually have to leave the bed to clean themselves up and probably change the sheets. Robbie’s knee was currently in a wet spot and it was mildly unpleasant.
And before that they should perhaps close that bedroom door, before Sportacus’ parents got back from the Christmas Eve celebration they’d ditched.
Perhaps, but not quite yet.
Exhaustion weighted his limbs and his head was heavy where he listened to Sportacus’ steady heartbeat.
Just a little nap.
Robbie was just about to doze off when Sportacus spoke up, completely out of the blue and disorienting to the point of annoying, “they moved the Christmas celebration in LazyTown to Christmas Day, so we could join in.”
“In vain,” Robbie yawned. “It’ll be late even by my standards when we arrive back home.” Lots of time to brace himself for the off chance that his mother hadn’t decided that she’d had enough of LazyTown for another couple of decades to come. She’d been very vague during their short chat when concluding that he was somehow not dead.
He’d rather not think of that and let himself fall asleep in his lover’s embrace instead.
“Actually…” The ministrations ceased and Sportacus’ hand settled behind Robbie’s head, and he got the uncanny feeling that it was to keep him put.
Oh no, maybe they were eloping in the middle of the night after all?
Sportacus continued, revealing something horrifyingly worse, “the speed limiter has been disengaged, we’ll make it to LazyTown just in time.”
Whelp. So much for that nap.
Robbie heard the front door open on the lower lever, probably Sportacus’ parents, and probably just in time for them to hear his loud, “you really are trying to kill me!”