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The brusque knocking on Robert’s door signaled it was that time of the month again. Like clockwork, at ten o’clock every third Saturday, Flambae would arrive.
The first few months, he would simply punch the Dispatcher, relieving his pent up aggression as promised and leaving satisfied after laying Robert out with his right hook.
Somewhere along the way that was no longer enough and things devolved into what it was now. It was likely conceived after the third incident when Flambae added insult to injury, hocking spit onto the Dispatcher’s crumpled form.
The knock sounded again, followed by an irritated, “C’mon, I don’t have all night. Are you going to open this fucking door or what?”
Robert cocked his head to the side as he contemplated it. He didn’t have to open his door. Of course, that would be no real obstacle for the flaming super. He could easily blow the door of its hinges or incinerate it to cinders. Hell, the entire apartment level. But that knowledge wasn’t why his hand was already reaching towards the knob.
“I don’t know. Might be interested in that ‘or what.’ What would you do?” He unlatched the chain and flipped the deadbolt, teasing in a defiant deadpan, “Huff and puff and blow my door down?”
Once unlocked, said door crashed open. Strong palms slapped against his chest, forcing him backwards, stumbling. The back of Robert’s head connected with the wall, a sharp crack that danced stars across his vision. He hissed in pain which deepened to a rumbling groan low in his throat as searing lips pressed open-mouthed kisses against his neck. Hands moved feverishly and overwhelmingly along his torso, his sides, up his sides and pinning his arms to the wall by his biceps. A hot tongue left a cool streak of saliva just beneath the line of his jaw and melted the Dispatcher at the knees. Only by the grace of the towering body pressing against him did he remain upright.
“I’d rather you do the blowing, bitch,” came the accented rumble against the tender flesh of his neck.
Flambae’s fingers twined in the tawny locks of Robert’s hair, angling his head roughly to expose more of the milky column he ravished. Nearly a head taller, the larger man had to stoop, bowing forward and concaving a space between their chests. With his other hand, he guided Robert’s waist to close part of the gap, grinding their lower bodies together and hissing. His hot breath fanned against his Dispatcher’s skin.
Robert could feel the straining of Flambae’s excitement through the thin material of his suit, feeling an echo of the same lust in his own pants. The synthetic aramid fibers were thin and soft, only a whisper of clothing that may as well have been absent altogether. It left nothing to the imagination, save for taste.
Robert closed his panting mouth and swallowed thickly at the memory, mouth drying and desperate already to feel full once again.
Flambae was firm and growing, rocking deliberately against Robert, adjusting the temperature of his mouth to leave kisses hot enough to blister against Robert’s trapezius. He released his hold on Robert’s hip, grunting a wordless command for the Dispatcher to continue rolling that delicious friction between them, and let that hand explore the scrawnier body his encased. Where Flambae’s fingers moved - crawling up ribs, arms, back, ass, thighs - and beyond, he set off controlled flames until all clothing was burnt away.
“Every time?” Robert appraised his suddenly naked form, scrunching his nose at the acrid fumes of his disintegrated outfit, and lifted a brow up at the flame hero. “I’m not gonna have any clothes left because of you.”
“Your clothes were shit, anyway, Bobbo, I’m basically doing you a favor. Besides, it costs, what, two dollars to cover your skinny bitch ass?” Sneering, Flambae raked his eyes over every cut, scrape, bruise, and roved longer on the flush parts where his fire made contact against the Dispatcher’s skin. Burrowing a hand in the soft fringe above the other’s forehead, he commanded with a wry twist of his lips, “Now, get on your fucking knees.”
Obediently, Robert lowered himself down until both caps connected with the floor, maintaining eye contact. Just the way Flambae liked. Anticipation escaped him in quick exhales, his chest bobbing.
“Very good.” Flambae stared down at him imperiously, eyes alight with liquid fire. His gaze seared the other man whose chest tightened and stomach flexed. “Now tell me what you are.”
“I’m a good bitch.”
“Mm, not just any good bitch. Nooo.” Flambae wiggled Robert’s head side to side as he playfully sang the last word. “Whose?”
Robert was strong-willed by nature. Determined and resolute, unmoving in the face of an adversary. Especially one who was petulant, antagonistic, and overly-confident. Yet he felt a compulsion to obey, a desperate need that clawed him from the inside. It was not exactly guilt or remorse that allowed him to accept the other’s increasingly punitive revenge. He didn’t really feel those about their situation. Rationally, the perverse justice Flambae exacted over the maimings Robert caused were arguably in self-defense or self-inflicted, born out of circumstances the former villain had willfully put himself in.
So it wasn’t regret, remorse, or some sense of retribution that brought him here. It was instead some dark part of himself that Flambae’s vitriol unlocked, that reveled in the mistreatment, and begged for more. Made him get on his knees and take every delicious punishment, savor every sting, until Flambae was satisfied.
His cock twitched at the thought, straining against his stomach, a spot below his navel already slick with leaking precum.
Reparations, Flambae had qualified their new tryst that first night, followed by his favorite pet name. There had been a beat of silence as his fist hovered in the air before those hot, full lips had come crashing against Robert’s when this began months ago, a searing tongue pushing past and claiming his.
“Yours,” Robert rumbled in response.
Satisfied, a wicked smile spread across the other’s chiseled face. “Prove it.” Flambae shrugged out of the sleeves of his suit and let them hang off his hips, exposing his torso and watching Robert’s trailing eyes, the way they fixated on his solid pectorals and silver piercings. Flambae ran his hand over his chest, middle finger dragging against his right nipple and let the light glimmer off the metal bar. He shifted his hips forward in demand, and said, “This cock isn’t going to suck itself.”
Robert’s hands answered immediately, one smoothing up the rigid, muscular planes of the other’s torso, the other drawing the rest of the black-and-orange suit down Flambae’s tapered waist in his fist. He pressed his face flush against the man’s clothed cock, feeling the thin fabric slide between them as he lowered it inch by inch.
Hunger. That was all Robert could process as the enticing length sprang free. His breath trembled hot against Flambae’s velvet flesh, bracing his palms against the defined obliques before him. Eyes shuttering closed, Robert leaned forward wrapped his lips around the thick shaft, tongue following the pulsing vein as far as he could go.
Flambae sucked his teeth, head lolling back and hand gliding against the other’s left cheek. He leveled pleasure-pinched eyes down at the man on his knees and lifted his hand away from the cheek it rested against. With a clap, Flambae’s palm connected sharply leaving the skin pink and raw.
“Deeper,” he commanded.
The Dispatcher groaned, a sound caught between despair and desire.
Another slap preceded the huskier demand, “Deeper.”
Robert gurgled plaintively as he took more of Flambae’s cock in his mouth, the tip pressing against the soft skin of his pharynx. He was full, so tantalizingly full, mouth stretched as wide as he could go, throat constricting in protest. Saliva dribbled down his chin, glossing his lips, and his chest heaved as he tried to take in as much air as his nostrils would allow.
Jerking by the hair, Flambae forced his Dispatcher to meet his eye, honey brown to liquid fire. With a sneer, he rasped, “I said deeper.”
Flambae pinched Robert’s nose and when his mouth opened desperately, he rammed himself as far into the other man as possible, hissing in triumph.
Robert choked, tears springing to the corner of his eyes at the sudden rush and pressure. It was too much and not yet enough. He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t want to, only wanted to feel stuffed, full, more. Robert whimpered and blindly grabbed Flambae from behind, pushing him closer by the firm mounds of his ass until his nose was buried against a patch of wiry, dark hair.
“That’s a good boy,” Flambae cooed, back to stroking Robert’s face. He rocked his hips gently, pulling his cock in and out of the other’s mouth. “That’s my very good, bitch boy. You like this cock, Robert?”
He allowed Robert to ease off of him, sliding halfway back, tongue dragging the underside of Flambae’s shaft more comfortably. Robert’s jaw relaxed and he hummed his approval, rolling vibrations against the cock that filled his dutiful mouth.
“I know you do. It’s fucking flawless. Better than your pathetic shrimp dick,” he jeered, balancing to press the sole of his foot against Robert’s swollen prick. “Show me.” He punctuated each following word with a thrusting of his hip, “Show. Me. How. Much. You. Like. My. Cock. Robert.”
Flambae smiled cruelly with every squelching gag Robert’s throat made.
Robert moved one hand to press against the other’s taut stomach, wavering between pushing him away and pulling him closer with his back hand. Just when he felt he could take no more, Flambae tore his cock free with a pop. Air rushed into Robert’s lungs he gratefully swallowed by the mouthful, lungs burning.
“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, bitch.”
The Dispatcher complied, eyes glazed and red, pupils blown out.
“Fucking love when you get like this, you sloppy, fucking slut.” Flambae slapped his dick against the ravaged pink muscle, his meat thick and wet. Lifting his cock away, the hot head pinched his lips and with a pucker spit precisely into the open, waiting mouth. “Swallow.”
Robert pressed his lips together and gulped down the hot intrusion. He grimaced as it passed down his throat, but obediently opened his mouth for more as the hot head struck him across the cheek again.
Flambae knelt and cupped his mutilated hand beneath the other’s chin, slick and dribbling. His fingers dug in on just the wrong side of pain as he pressed them on either side of the bone. He sneered as he once again spit and slammed the jaw closed, Robert’s teeth snapping.
“Say ‘ahh.’”
“Ahhh.”
Flambae smirked, satisfied. “You know what to do next.”
Robert slid his back down the wall until it was flush with the floor, legs spreading around Flambae’s crouched body. He lifted his legs until large hands assisted, gripping at the thighs and pushing his knees into his shoulders.
“Good boy. Are you ready to get wet for me?”
Nodding mutely, hair plastered to his sweating forehead, Flambae grinned at the acceptance. He pressed his knees into the ground, propping the other up beneath his ass. Lowering down with agonizing restraint, Robert tried to still his squirming as the warm brush of the flaming super’s body slid against him, nipple bars trailing fire hot streaks on his hamstrings. The hot head hoisted Robert’s body higher, his lower back pitched up and off the ground.
The position strained his core and rubbed his slick cock between his pectorals. Robert could smell his leaking need and was as disgusted as he was desirous by it. His body shook and then tensed sharply as a wet tongue began lapping at his hole.
Robert quivered as the muscle worked lazy circles around his rim, alternating long licks up the seam of his balls and back down again. A deep moan rumbled low in Flambae’s chest as he chased every shaking tremor, reveling in the pulsing of the other’s entrance, desperate to be full of his punishing cock.
A snap of fingers preceded the pain of a controlled flame sizzling against the tender skin of Robert’s ass. When the tendril of fire became too hot to handle, Robert yelped and Flambae smothered the flame and replaced the agony with a newer one. He slapped his hand across the flushed skin then tenderly caressed his palm over the sting. He repeated on both sides until the Dispatcher became a mewling mess of want.
Flambae removed his face and replaced it with a finger, sliding it in a knuckle at a time. He felt the other’s body squeeze the digit in deeper, throbbing around him unsatisfied. Retracting the finger until only the tip remained, he added a second and rammed both in mercilessly.
“Mmph, fuck,” Robert groaned, biting his lip savagely and tasting copper.
The super’s biceps bulged as he hammered his fingers in. Robert’s contorted position compressed his vocal chords and noises of pleasures came out strangled and gurgling
“Oh yeah, you take it so fucking good,” Flambae moaned. “Whose tight hole is this?”
“Yours,” a voice Robert couldn’t recognize as his own gasped.
“Whose fucking hole is this?” Flambae pumped his hand roughly, beckoning the building release within the smaller man.
“Yours!” the Dispatcher cried out, thrashing his head to the side, fingers desperately scrabbling for purchase on the unforgiving ground.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You,” Robert moaned weakly.
“You know better than that. You won’t fucking like it if you make me repeat myself, bitch.”
“Cock,” he groaned, turning his head away. He hated the need that flared in his belly and hated more how much he loved to beg for it. “I need your cock.”
“Where are your manners, Robert?” Flambae cooed, curling his fingers and stimulating the bundle of nerves that speared electricity up the other's spine. He hissed in pleasure as he felt the muscle around his digits clench.
“Chad…please.”
“Oh, Chad, please,” Flambae mocked cruelly, kicking his suit off his legs and positioning himself at Robert’s hole. “Please fuck me like the little bitch in heat that I am, Chad.”
Looking down the crumpled line of his body through half-lidded eyes, he watched Flambae slap his shaft against his crease. Robert’s body instinctively rocked into it, rolling up with anticipation tight in his chest as he felt the tip press against his waiting center.
“Don’t fucking rush me,” Flambae instructed, his amber eyes flaring with warning.
Robert swallowed thickly and debated whether he wanted to play with that fire. He knew the answer and went against it, remaining still and obedient.
Placing his palm flat against the top of his shaft, Flambae guided his tip into place and pressed his hips forward incrementally. The Dispatcher’s hole parted around him, a heady mix of pliant and rigid, and Robert moaned, his neck arching as the back of his head slid against the floor. Flambae squinted in pleasure as he watched his head swallowed into the other’s body. He pulled back out and sneered at the whine that received. Repeating the motion over and over, Robert helplessly bucked his hips, desperate to feel more of that thick, hot cock inside of him.
Flambae looked the Dispatcher up and down, his gaze lingering on the other man’s face. Robert didn’t have to see to know his cheeks were flushed and tinged pink, his lips swollen and red, his hair matted messily above eyes that were dilated, panting and needy. He could only imagine what a pitiful display he was and found his will to care evaporating like the smoke curling off the super’s tan skin. There was a flicker of something passing over Flambae’s features Robert couldn’t identify, but the hot head stilled, tip of his cock twitching just past his rim.
Scoffing with a shake of his head, he pulled out and rotated Robert’s right leg until the knee connected to the ground.
“Face down, ass up, bitch.”
“Yes,” Robert answered, shifting his body to be compliant.
“Yes what?”
“Yes…sir.”
Flambae rumbled his appreciation, his hands circling from behind to pinch the other’s nipples brutally. “That’s fucking right.”
Robert’s head fell back against Flambae’s shoulder, his broad chest flush against Robert’s slender, scarred spine. A thicker cock supported his from beneath and Flambae rolled his hips, rubbing the tip up and down Robert’s length, a trail of the other man’s precum lubricating the underside of his shaft. Robert’s eyes fluttered close and his breath left him in quick puffs as desire reignited low in his stomach.
With a single look, protests died in his mouth. With a single touch, he was undone. With every grind, he unraveled and felt reality slip away from him until there was only heat and expectation, desire threading like a roaring firestorm between them.
“Chad, fuck me already. Please.”
“So needy. More.”
“Please.”
Hands clenched his waist, fingers burying in his posterior. “More.”
“Please.”
“Only because you asked so fucking nicely,” Flambae cooed, righting his posture and slipping his cock from between Robert’s legs and slotting it between his crease.
Robert’s back felt cold as the air hit it, but a hot palm pressed between his shoulder blades and lowered his torso to touch the ground. He bent his head to the side and looked up. Flambae was not the first man he had been with, but seeing him like this, it was hard to register that he was a man at all. A living sandstone sculpture of unyielding, rippling muscle, his hair unleashed and rolling in ebony waves down his back and cascades flowing past perfect pectorals. His artistically angular brows knit in concentration and sunset orange eyes piercing and precise. Robert bit back his appreciative moan and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t here to admire, he was here to receive. And Flambae delivered.
With punishing finality, the hot head plunged himself deep into the other with a single thrust, his hips connecting with enough force to bruise. It stole the breath from the Dispatcher’s lungs, his head bouncing painfully against the baseboard. Robert balled his fists and bit his knuckle feeling the sharp sting and pressure as he was stretched too far too quick.
Flambae groaned and lolled his head back, fingers dancing against the muscular divots of the other’s ass. His cock pulsed hotly inside and he reveled for a moment before retracting and forcing himself in fully once again.
“Fuck yes,” he hissed and pulled back to stroke shallowly, feeling the immediate shift from pain to pleasure in the other.
Robert grunted with each rut, the muscles in his stomach clenching as Flambae’s cock ground hot friction against his g spot. He felt his balls tighten and cried out from around his fist, spots glittering behind his closed eyes as electricity ignited from his groin to lower back, lighting a trail of fire up his spine. His body shuddered as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through him.
Flambae hovered his palm over the skin of Robert’s back, lighting a fire whose flames ghosted over every hair that stood on end. He extinguished the flame and wound his fingers tightly in the fringe of hair at the nape of Robert’s neck and jerked it back. The other hand released its hold on his waist and snaked around, gripping the Dispatcher by the throat.
He continued his gentle pumping and whispered by the shell of the other man’s notched ear, “Does that feel good, Robert?” Flambae applied enough pressure in his hand that Robert could not utter a response.
He nodded weakly as best as he could, caught in the unforgiving grasp and barely moving his head.
“Tsk, that’s too bad,” Flambae jeered and switched his rhythm to a relentless railing.
“Nngh, ah - ah!” Robert wailed plaintively with every pistoning, punishing thrust. “Please, st– I, I can’t.”
With feigned deference and compassion, Flambae cooed, “No, no, you can, baby, I believe in you. You can take it, you always take it so, so good. Relax and take me.” Flambae grunted, working himself up and feeling every inch of his brawny body bulge and tighten. “Take every inch of this beautiful – fucking cock.”
Flambae released his hold and modulated the heat in his palms to relax Robert’s spasming muscles, down his torso, groin, and back. He wrapped the two fingers and thumb of his right hand around Robert’s shaft and stroked him, appreciating smugly the whimper he received.
“See, I can still make you feel so good. So fucking good.”
Robert moaned and rocked his hips into the flaming super’s heated touch. He bounced between the pleasure of the man’s hand and the pain of his hips in a tantalizing back and forth. A tumble of unintelligible noises of pleasure fell past his lips as he mewled his desire.
“Tell me how good I make you feel, Robert.” Flambae’s thumb stroked the Dispatcher’s leaking tip, over and over, stimulating the nerves and feeling the muscle around his own cock pulse.
“So good,” Robert groaned, pleasure chasing pain in a tumult of sensation. “So fucking good.”
“Who? Who makes you feel this good?”
“You, Flam–Chad, fuck!” Robert roared the last word, his stomach violently clenching as Flambae pumped his throbbing cock, feeling his climax unraveling deep in his tight balls and desperate for release.
“I’ll let you cum once you tell me where you want mine.”
“Face,” Robert answered immediately. “Want to, need to, taste–”
“Good boy,” Flambae rasped, his hips breaking into an erratic rhythm as his chest heaved, hot breath fanning across Robert’s neck. The muscles of his back shuddered and contracted as Flambae pumped his cock faster and faster.
“I’m close, I’m–”
“I know, I know,” Flambae bit out, face scrunched in concentration, grunting as he exerted more power into his fist and hips. “Do it. Cum for me.”
As if on command, white light flashed behind his eyes and searing heat filled him from head to curling toes, rippling in eaves of ecstasy. Screaming out in rapture, Robert dumped his seed in hot, shaking spurts, spilling onto the other’s tight grip, lubricating his shaft as he wrung every drop of his orgasm.
Flambae groaned wantonly in his ear, the sound wrenched deep from within his chest and quickly extracted himself, flipping the Dispatcher around. Grabbing both of Robert’s wrist in one hand, he hoisted the slimmer man up and rocketed his fist around his immense length.
“Open…your mouth…bitch,” the hot head murmured, his expression scrunched and eyes lidded.
Robert dropped his overworked jaw wide obediently, panting, both of their chests heaving. Flambae’s bounced with every staccatoed breath as he worked his shaft, chasing his mounting climax. Robert’s umber eyes swallowed the sight before him, watching as the cock twitched and jerked violently in the large hand. Flambae’s balls drew up tighter to himself and Robert moaned his delight as impending release jettisoned in thick strands across his waiting face. He knew better than to close his eyes even as it clung to his lashes. Hot semen dribbled down his hairline, cheeks, and with intense delight into his mouth.
Not needing instruction, Robert gulped greedily then ran his fingers across his face and sucked the dripping remnants from each digit, swallowing with a sigh.
“What a pretty fucking picture you make.” Flambae slapped his cheek with weakened enough force that felt more of a congratulatory pat against his raw flesh. “Mona fucking Lisa couldn’t compare. Heh. Moan-ah Lisa. That’s what you are, bitch.”
“You say that…every time,” Robert managed between labored breaths.
“And it’s fucking funny every time.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Flambae released Robert’s wrists; his rubbery muscles couldn't support himself and he dropped into a slump on the floor.
Padding to the kitchen behind him, Flambae grabbed one of the crisply folded rags on the counter and ran it under the faucet he cranked. Heating the cloth in his hands, he scrubbed himself thoroughly and ran the second rag under the faucet. Balling it up and throwing it to where he approximated Robert lay, the Dispatcher was pleasantly surprised it was also steaming. He mopped his face and body as best as his exhausted hand could do and let it lay, draped and cooling on his abdominals.
He heard the approaching footsteps, a crackle from bent knees, and felt hot hands circle around his ankles, dragging his limp body taut across the floor. Planking above him, Flambae lowered his immense, hot body until it lay flush but not compressing over Robert’s. His curtain of damp hair fell around them and swallowed the two in darkness. Amber eyes glowered eerily in the pitch and as the post-coital clarity hit him, Robert stared up into them dispassionately.
“What?” he intoned brusquely.
Flambae remained silent, staring down at the other man. His gaze flicked to his lips and pressed his own against them. It was slow, molten, taking his time for the simple sake of kissing him with unfamiliar gentleness. Robert wanted to fight against the tenderness, but found himself melting into the warm touch. Against himself, his quivering arm raised up and his hand cupped the other’s jaw. Flambae shifted his weight and slapped the hand away.
“You’re not supposed to like this.”
“Then don’t fuck me like that and I won’t,” Robert rebutted.
“Bitch.”
“Fucking asshole.”
A lazy grin stretched across Flambae’s face. “No thanks - I’m good. Already did.”
Sighing, Robert offered, “Well, you know where the door is. Don’t let it smack your fat ass on the way out.”
“Better fat than flat,” Flambae jeered. Engaging his core, Flambae tented his body and stood, stretching and stepping back into his outfit. “Same time next month?”
“If you can hold out that long.”
Snickering, Flambae noted, “You’re more fucking trouble than you’re worth, Robbo, you know that?”
Chuckling himself then groaning as he sat upright, Robert replied, “Yeah, well, you too.”
Hand on the door knob, Flambae turned to say something. Seeming to decide against it, he cast one last look over the man reclined on the floor and snicked the door closed behind him.
Things were much simpler when the hot head only came around to knock his lights out. Still, sore and aching in this different way, Robert couldn’t find it in himself to be chagrined at how this revenge ritual had turned out. It was becoming more complicated by the month, but Robert - uncertain when trepidation turned to eagerness and unwilling to analyze what broken part of himself let that happen - looked forward to the next round.