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“F-fuck, I can’t believe I let you t- talk me into this.”
Jabber laughs, stroking Zanka's cheek as he convulses. “I was gonna tell you to lie still, but…you don’t really have any other choice, huh?”
Zanka turns his head, inhaling sharply. The cool floor beneath him does nothing to ice the pain. “What exactly d- do you have planned for you to insist on p- poisoning me?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby. You know Imma take real good care of you.” A wicked smile forms on Jabber’s face. “And don’t talk, it makes the pain worse. Unless that’s what you want…I do love your pretty sounds.”
Zanka growls in frustration, glaring as Jabber leans back on his knees to take in the tantalizing sight in front of him. Zanka is completely naked save for a pair of black thigh-high heeled boots tightly fitted to his calves. He looks as if he’s role-playing as a stripper who was somehow wrangled into submission by some pervert. Zanka wrinkles his nose at the thought, contemplating whether or not Jabber actually found the risque shoes abandoned on the streets like he insisted.
Before Zanka can open his mouth to ask, Jabber clamps each of his legs and cranks them open. Zanka yelps at the sudden manhandling, mouth agape. Jabber, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, only pries his legs further apart, stretching and stretching until they lie almost perfectly parallel. Only then does he notice that everything is on display for the other man’s eyes.
“H-hey,” Zanka mutters, face heating up despite the cold air in the room. “Stop doing that.”
Due to the poison, he can hardly feel the pressure of Jabber’s full body weight pushing on his open legs. However, he can feel every bit of his dignity slipping away as Jabber just stares. He stares for what feels like eternity, eyes trailing the length of Zanka’s legs, gaze lingering on the area where they meet.
What’s so interesting about the lower half of his body anyway?
Zanka, flushed with humiliation, desperately wants to kick out of Jabber’s grip.
But he can’t.
He can't move his fucking legs.
So this is why he wanted to poison me. To ogle me while I lie here like a flimsy doll.
Jabber seems to notice Zanka’s caught on to his crude plan and looks up with a wide, toothy grin.
“I shoulda known. Pervert,” Zanka grunts out, completely powerless.
Jabber hums. “What can I say? You never give me a chance to play with your long, gorgeous legs.”
He pouts and nuzzles the poisoned man’s pale inner thigh. “You always tell me to just 'get on with it’. Can’t a guy take his time to treasure his belongings?”
“Belong–” Zanka chokes on his exclamation, a strangled gasp escaping when a sudden heat envelops his half-hard cock. Just through the other man’s curtain of dreads, Zanka catches sight of Jabber’s mouth fully sunk to the base of his cock.
Jabber meets Zanka’s eyes and winks, then starts to bob his head up and down in a slow fashion. Zanka can only watch, itching to grab the other man’s dreads and fuck his mouth, to take control of the situation. Reading his thoughts, Jabber pulls off Zanka’s cock with a wet pop, drool dribbling down his chin.
“It’s a damn shame you can’t touch me.” He says, lust clouding his expression.
Zanka huffs out a bitter laugh. “Pray tell, who exactly made it so I can’t touch you?”
Jabber doesn’t answer, only dives back in to slurp at Zanka’s dick, occasionally releasing it to plant wet kisses down his inner thighs. Zanka’s breathing quickens, eyelids heavy from refusing to break eye contact with Jabber. But Jabber’s mouth is relentless, and Zanka throws his head back, losing their staring contest. “Almost– f- fuck,” he whines. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
Just as he’s on the verge of relief, a sharp pain cuts through his side, and suddenly, he can move again.
Magenta eyes give him a knowing look, which Zanka interprets as crush-my-face-with-your-thighs. So he does. He throws his legs over Jabber’s shoulders and crosses them, locking the other man’s head in an almost chokehold.
Despite his restricted movement, Jabber is still at work, hands joining his mouth to sweetly torture Zanka’s hardness, pre-cum pearling at the tip.
Zanka lets out a soft whimper as Jabber pumps him vigorously, the chill of his rings dragging and catching on his veins.
“Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Jabber practically moans out, rutting his clothed dick against the floor. He’s licking and biting at Zanka’s inner thighs like a starved man, while his other hand caresses the tight material over his calves.
Zanka’s back arches involuntarily at the praise, letting borderline pornographic moans escape him unashamedly. The Raider seems to be worshipping him, devouring him with every hungry look, every fierce bite, every tender sweep of his tongue. This is how Zanka’s always known Jabber to be: wildly insatiable and never not overcome with desire to ravage Zanka.
Five long, torturous seconds pass, and Zanka climaxes with a loud gasp, followed by a chorus of ah-ah-ahs.
Jabber swiftly breaks free from the Cleaner’s crossed legs and crawls over him. A hand moves to gently lift Zanka’s chin, then a mouth presses kisses to his face, a tongue licks the tear stains dried on his cheeks, and a voice coos at him: “I’ve got you, pretty boy. You still with me?”
Zanka comes down from his high momentarily, immediately noticing a hardness against his stomach. “Needa get you off,” he mumbles, reaching down.
Jabber grabs his hand and pushes it away. “All you need to do is sit there and look at me.”
Zanka pulls himself to a sitting position where he’s leaning back on his hands, noticing Jabber’s eyes travel from his face to linger on his heels. “Yeah. Just like that, dollface.” He says, pulling out his hardness.
A smirk tugs at Zanka’s lips, and he lazily lifts a leg, tapping the tip of his shoe on Jabber’s standing cock. Jabber bites his lip and begins stroking himself, eagerly anticipating the Cleaner’s next move. His eyes follow Zanka’s knees, which are now pulled up to his chest, feet tapping seductively.
Jabber flashes a hungry grin, hand quickening on his cock. “Feeling yourself aren’t you, baby? You– ah, you know you look fuckin’ hot and you’re teasin’ me with it.”
Jabber slams a hand on the floor, leaning over Zanka. “Shit. I gotta have you like this all the time, lookin' all– ah fucked outta your mind in the heels I picked out for you.”
Zanka parts his legs slightly, careful not to reveal the mess of fluids on his chest. “You like 'em on me? Gonna make you cum?”
Jabber nods, breath coming in heavy pants. It’s thrilling, watching him on edge like this, so close and so desperate for release.
“Now who looks fucked out of their mind?” Zanka snickers, reaching up to wipe drool leaking from the corner of the other man’s mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Take a good, hard look, Jabber, because I’m never wearing these stupid heels again. Fucking animal.”
Almost instantly, white ribbons of Jabber’s release paint his black heels. A visible shudder runs through his body and he groans, dropping his head to the other man’s shoulder. Just a second later, Zanka’s arms give out, body still spent from his own release, and they drop to the floor.
Jabber speaks after a few moments of silence. “Wait a second. Whaddya mean you won’t wear the heels again? I got ‘em specially for you.”
Zanka attempts to push Jabber off, but he doesn’t budge one bit. “Be honest. Where did you get these?” he replies with an exasperated sigh.
Jabber props himself on one arm, using the other to fiddle with Zanka’s earring. “Just like I said before, I found them lying on the ground outside. I cleaned them if that’s what you’re pissed about. You’d be kinda gross with foot fungus.”
“You’re lying. Also, if either of us were going to get foot fungus, it’d definitely be you.”
Jabber laughs. “You really can see right through me. I love you."
Zanka rolls his eyes at the three familiar words Jabber blurts out whenever he’s trying to get out of something. “You can’t just randomly confess your love to me to avoid the question.”
“Okay, listen,” Jabber grips Zanka’s chin, playfully squeezing his cheeks. “I’ll tell ya if you wear them for me one more time.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t need to know that badly.” Zanka deadpans, sitting up to pull his discarded clothes back on. Jabber snorts, leaning his weight against the Cleaner.
In moments like these, their world becomes completely still. Just for a little while.
They don't need much more than this anyway.