Work Text:
Victor has a type. It’s not something he’s ashamed of, but he also tries not to go around advertising it. Mostly so he doesn’t offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a certain type of person or being attracted to someone who checks every box on a mental list, but he understands why some people might get a little up in arms about his particular flavor of choice. Not that he cares. He just prefers not to have his balls busted over something he can’t control.
It’s not even like he indulges himself very often. Not by choice, of course. His type just isn’t the easiest to come by, despite all the methods of acquisition available to him. Torrance houses a fair amount of mostly perfect candidates, but it’s actually getting into their pants that’s the tricky part. Usually, Victor has learned, the lack of payoff wasn’t worth the effort. That is, until, Robert Robertson trudged into his life with that grumpy ass look on his face and stole his attention away in an instant. Now, that he doesn’t mind putting a little elbow grease into.
Expressive doe eyes? Check.
Pretty pouty mouth? Check.
Skinny little waist? Check.
Hell, even the bad attitude gets Victor going a little. The fucker has freckles, and he’s expected to control himself around all of that? Maybe in another life. But the most important bit, the poppable cherry on top of it all, is the well-kept secret he’s been hiding between his legs.
A guy with a pussy? Check, check, and check.
Okay, it’s not like he knows for certain that Robert has got one, but he’s pretty damn good at making educated guesses. Especially when it comes to this. The nose always knows, and Robert fucking reeks of that same sort of musky sweetness Victor has become intimately familiar with ever since he figured out what his dick is for. He caught a whiff of it on the very first day he met the guy and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Maybe it’s a coincidence, that Robert just so happens to eat enough sugary garbage on a day to day basis that it lingers about him, but Victor isn’t so sure.
It quickly becomes an objective of his to find out.
Snooping on his files is out of the question. Besides being certain he’d get caught with the amount of cameras around, Victor isn’t so sure there would even be anything to see. If Robert does have something to hide, it’s likely been for long enough that there’d be no trace of it. There’s the chance he could catch a glimpse of his body in the locker room for a more definitive answer, but he wouldn’t have a good reason for being there in the first place. The gym isn’t exactly somewhere he frequents without an explicit reason. There’s no easy way to go about finding out the truth without making a total ass of himself, which is precisely the opposite of his goal here.
Hey, he can be a real charmer when he wants to.
Thankfully, the answer comes to him on a blissful Monday afternoon. After spending all weekend jerking off to the possible outcomes of getting Robert into his bed, Victor is prepared for another week of wondering. That is, until he passes by Blazer’s office and can hear the low, steady murmur of Robert’s voice hidden behind the door. His ears automatically swivel towards it and he stops in his tracks, checking if the coast is clear before creeping closer, curiosity getting the best of him. Thankfully, his hearing is good enough that all it takes is a casual lean against the wall nearby to hear everything going on inside clearly.
“And you’re sure the health insurance here covers it?” Robert asks. “It’s… kind of an emergency after how broke I’ve been.”
“I’m positive,” comes Blazer’s reply. “We’re all inclusive here, Robert, and I appreciate that you trust me enough to share this with me.”
“Yeah, well,” Robert says uncertainly, “I appreciate you not being weird about it. I try to keep it private.”
“That’s understandable. Some people can be pretty cruel.”
Robert chuckles, no humor in it. “Trust me, I know. The last thing I need is shit from the team over this. Talk about my small dick all you want, but I draw the line at my- well, you know.”
And there it is. Almost impossible to misinterpret all that. Victor’s eyes widen, unable to keep the smile off his face simply from the satisfaction of being right. He graduated from Harvard of all schools for a reason. It does sting a little that Robert automatically assumes it’s something Z-Team would use against him when Victor is certain none of them would care, but he guesses they haven’t exactly been the most gracious with him so far. Can’t blame the guy for being safe over sorry, especially with something like this.
With the confirmation he needed, Victor struts away with a pep in his step and a plan starting to form in his mind.
Let Mission Spread His Legs commence! Step one: court him.
He doesn’t make it known often, but Victor is actually quite the gentleman. Shifting his behavior isn’t the hard part, it’s doing it in a way that isn’t too obvious. He wants Robert to know what he’s gunning for eventually, but you gotta lay the groundwork before building a house. Plus, if he’s not careful, the team could ruin this for him. He’s well aware that he isn’t the only one who’s got his sights set on their dispatcher. On top of that, he’s pretty sure Malevola can already tell he’s got a bit of a crush going on, but he knows she’ll let him work it out of his system without intervening.
“So,” she approaches gently that night when they’re both slouched on opposite ends of their couch. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Ah, what can I say? I got pussy on the brain.”
She snorts. “Robert’s?”
Victor glances at her, eyebrow raised. “Maybe. And what if I do?”
“Nothing!” Malevola throws her hands up in surrender. “Just wondering if it’s a good idea to mix business and pleasure.”
Victor shrugs. “Probably not, but you don’t get it, Mal. I gotta have him. I got to.”
There’s a pause before understanding crosses her face and she rolls her eyes. She knows him a little too well at this point. There’s minimal heat in her words when she scolds, “You and your fucking type, Victor, I swear. You’re disgusting. How’d you even find out, huh, by perving on him?”
“I did no such thing! and I prefer ‘refined taste’, if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m not. There’s a reason you scare a lot of your potentials off once they get talking to you.”
“Hey, just because they can’t handle all this doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong. Just you watch, I’m gonna show him it doesn’t get any better than a guy like me. I bet you breakfast in bed for a week that I’ll have him before the end of next month.”
Malevola scoffs and kicks lamely at his leg. “I’ll take you up on that. I bet Robert is smarter than you think and turns you down.”
Victor licks at his fangs, already imagining how sweet it’ll be to wake up with his dispatcher curled up next him with the smell of bacon in the air. “You’re on.”
He starts small. Dialing back the teasing is easy, but he’s not even sure Robert notices the absence of a singular voice when the rest of the team is razzing him as much as usual. He does everything he’s asked without complaint and even refrains from begging to be sent on any calls that appeal to him, as much as it pains him to miss out on multiple potential Vanderstenk meet-cutes. When none of that seems to make Robert pay any closer attention to him after a couple days, Victor knows it’s time to step his game up.
When he thinks about it, he really doesn’t know much about Robert outside of his penchant for sugary snacks, how much he loves that fat little dog, and his workaholicism, but thankfully, all three of those things seem pretty easy to appeal to. Victor doesn’t mind a couple trips to the dollar store for snacks that come in much larger sizes than their pitiful vending machine has to offer, each accepted with a surprised raise of Robert’s eyebrows and a genuine thanks. He even throws in a couple meat sticks, beef for Beef. He thinks Robert might finally be guessing something is up when he comes into work one day to see Victor fitting his desk chair with some pillows designed for back pain.
“What do you think?” he asks, spinning the chair around to show off his work. “Pretty slick, huh? You spend all damn day here, might as well be comfortable when you do.”
“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Robert says slowly, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Any reason or…?”
“Just trying to show my gratitude for you being such a good dispatcher, Bobby.” Victory gives him a friendly pat on the back but lets his hand linger a bit, sliding it down the bumps of his spine. Jesus, he’s tiny. “That alright with you?”
“I just didn’t expect it is all.” Robert slips away from Victor’s touch and collapses into his chair. “Especially not from you.”
“Oh, you wound me! I can be a nice guy!”
The corner of Robert’s mouth quirks up in a smirk and his eyes soften. He stares up at Victory through those thick lashes that are better suited to a cow hybrid as he slips his headset on and adjusts himself on his new and improved seat. “Alright, I stand corrected. Now, go clock the fuck in. You’re late.”
Victor does as he’s told with his chest puffed out. He’s finally starting to see some progress with a month to go. Malevola stares at him from the break room with a critical look on her face, but hey, maybe she shouldn’t have encouraged him if she doesn’t think this is a good idea.
Step two: wine and dine him.
While it’s become regular enough for the entire team and their scrappy little dispatcher to go and hit the town once they’re off for the night, Victor is well aware it would come across as strange to invite Robert out one on one. Subtlety has never been his strong suit, but he has a feeling this is a catch born of seduction rather than brute force. He waits for the perfect moment to strike, natural predator instinct giving him the patience he needs.
As he does, it’s obvious that Robert is somewhat softening up. He smiles at Victor in the hallways when they pass each other, he congratulates him on every job well done, he even gifts him a couple mice in a paper baggie on his break one day.
“I was at the pet store with Beef, and, I don’t know.” He shrugs, blush on his cheeks as he passes them over. “Frozen pinkies were all they had, so I hope that’s okay.”
Not Victor’s favorite, but the sentiment behind it is more than okay. It makes him want to shove the little guy over the table, rip those stupid fucking slacks down, and ruin him for anyone else. Instead, he accepts the bag with a toothy grin and swallows each one whole. They taste like victory. He thinks Robert’s pussy will be even better.
Less than a week after making sure Robert’s flat ass is nice and cushy, it’s like the planets align perfectly with the intention of helping him get his dick wet. Only about half the team goes out for drinks after work and Victor is easily able to coax Robert into some pool (and not just so he can stare at him bent over, thank you very much). Both of them are competitive enough that, by the time even Prism and Flambae have finally checked out for the night, only the two of them and Malevola remain. She watches their game and flirty interactions with her arms crossed, tail swishing behind her in undisguised irritation.
When Robert stumbles off to the bathroom for a break, she stalks over and crosses her arms. “You ready to give it up yet?”
Victor scoffs and chalks up his cue. “No way. You see him swooning over me?”
“I see you leading him on.”
“Oh, please.” Victor sets down his cue and gives her a pointed look. “I’m not bringing him flowers and promises of a future together. He’s an adult, he can make his own decisions.”
“Listen, it’s one thing to make some boy you’re never gonna see again feel like he’s something special for a night, but this is our boss-”
“You guys ready for another round?” Robert calls a little too loudly as he makes his way back over, fumbling with his fly. “I’m buying.”
“Mal was just on her way out, actually,” Victor supplies, smiling up at the demon. “But I’m down to stick around for a little longer.”
Malevolva narrows her eyes before schooling her expression and spinning around to meet Robert’s hazy gaze. “Don’t wait up for me. I got an early morning tomorrow. You two have fun.” She slices a portal into the air and steps through it, smacking Victor in the face with the tip of her tail on the way out. Alright, someone’s mad.
“She okay?” Robert asks, staring into the distance where her portal just closed up with a lost look on his pretty face.
“She’s fine. Hey, what do you say we get outta here? There’s a burger place open 24/7 a couple blocks away. And you haven’t eaten all day so don’t even try to say you’re not hungry.”
In the dim lighting of the bar, when Robert looks up at him, Victor’s breath catches in his throat. For all the thirsting after him he’s been doing, it still hits him every now and again how nice to look at Robert is. He blinks those wet brown eyes up at him like a puppy waiting for a treat and nods, easily accepting Victor’s lead. Just like he should. Hopefully he’ll be the same way in bed.
Victor feels damn close to finding out.
They stroll leisurely to the burger place, brushing shoulders and bumping into each other the whole way there. When Robert trips over his own feet for a third time, Victor loops an arm around him and tugs him right up against his side. They fit perfectly against each other, and Victor lets his hand trail down his waist, feeling the slightly feminine dip of it, the sharp and bony jut of his hip that no hormone could change. It’s a bold move, but Robert settles into the touch nice and easy.
“I knew you were up to something,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean?”
The tease aims a smirk up at him. “Was I not supposed to notice the way you’re feeling me up right now?”
Victor tightens his grip, testing the waters. “Depends on how okay you are with it.”
“Honestly? I probably shouldn’t be, but,” Robert snuggles into his side, the alcohol on his breath doing nothing to dissuade Victor, “pretty damn okay.”
They walk the rest of the way to the burger place wedged into each other’s sides, and if you asked, Victor would deny purring the entire way there. He insists on paying for their meals when they arrive, and they settle into a booth across from each other, feet brushing under the table. It’s a little more romantic than what Victor would normally go for, even if it is just a shitty fast-food joint at one in the morning, but if that’s what it takes, he’s willing to go the extra mile.
Robert in his bed will be more than worth it.
It’s hard not to watch his every move, everything he does somehow laced with sensuality. The way he plucks at his fries with delicate fingers, licks his lips free of grease, hums in satisfaction after every other bite, fuck, Victor would think it was intentional if he wasn’t so aware of his own perversions. He’s so distracted he hardly even touches his own food.
“So,” Robert starts, wiping his mouth with a napkin before tossing it onto his empty tray, “is this a date, or what? ‘Cause you don’t really strike me as that kinda guy.”
Victor blinks in surprise. “Uh, I mean- I don’t-”
Robert snorts and steals a curly fry off his plate. “Relax, and don’t bullshit me. Fun is fun, it doesn’t have to be anything more.”
Victor leans in closer with interest, placing his chin on top of his folded hands. “Fun?”
“Yeah. Fun.” A shadow suddenly crosses Robert’s face, his smile falling, and he leans back in the vinyl seat. “If you want that with someone like me.”
Oh, here it comes. Victor sits up a little straighter and his ears perk up, practically about to drool in anticipation, but he does his best to keep his face schooled in indifference. “Someone… like you?”
Robert shrugs and red tints his cheeks as he hunkers down in his seat a little more, body language the direct opposite of Victor. He scratches at the back of his neck in embarrassment and smirks awkwardly. “Yeah. You can’t tell anyone, okay? It’s private.”
Victor drags pinched fingers across his snout. Lips are sealed.
Nevermind that he already gave him away to Malevola. Oops. It’s not like he actually told her, though, so it’s fine. Probably.
Robert sighs and looks out the window at the dark, empty streets. “I’m… trans. Like, transgender. Born a girl, now a man, you get it, right?”
Victor nods slowly, keeping his cool. “Sure. I don’t care.”
In actuality, he cares kind of a lot. Not in the negative way Robert might assume, but he knows better than to act like it's nothing more than a turn-on and scare him away. He figures the only reason he’s even gotten this far is the buzz they’ve both got going on, but he’s not so stupid as to make a big deal out of things.
Robert looks back at him, brows pinched. “That’s it? You don’t care? No utter shock, no invasive questions, nothing?”
“Is that what you’d prefer? I can be invasive if you want.”
Robert relaxes a bit at that and laughs. “I guess not. People are just usually a lot more weird when they find out. They wanna know all about the plumbing.”
“I literally have the head of a bat, you think I’m gonna be bothered if you have-”
A hand is slapped over his mouth before he’s got the chance to finish that sentence, which is probably for the best, even if Robert looks more amused than offended. So he’s got a sense of humor about it. Good to know.
Robert lets his hand drop and smiles, sultry. “So… about that fun?”
Victor stands quickly enough to knock his tray, sending uneaten fries across the table. He dramatically offers a hand to Robert, who rolls his eyes and brushes it away as he gets up. Victor watches him shamelessly as he gathers their trays and deposits everything into the trash, trailing his eyes over his lean form. He’s just way too perfect for tossing around, shoving up against a wall, bending over a bed, every little thing you could imagine. He doesn’t even realize how lost in thought he is until the subject of his fantasies snaps his fingers in front of his eyes, knowing look on his face.
“Your place or mine?”
Step three: take him home and reap what you’ve sowed.
Now that Victor has better control over his other form, he’s quick to fly to his apartment with his conquest clinging to his back. It’s nothing overly impressive, but they both agreed having an actual bed might be better than whatever Robert has to offer. Not that he really seems to care what his place looks like other than that, nestling himself right into Victor’s arms the moment the front door closes behind them. He’s small enough that his face tucks right into the crux of Victor’s neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply at the fur there.
“You smell good,” he murmurs. “Like… outside after it rains.”
That strokes Victor in exactly the right place and he purrs. It feels too gauche to explain to Robert that all the nuzzling and sniffing at his neck is very much mating behavior to a hybrid like him, so he keeps his trap shut. It’s too damn good to give him any reason to stop. Victor wraps his arms around the slim body against his own, letting one hand trail up into the soft head of hair and the other slide down until he’s got an unimpressive ass cheek cupped in his hand.
“You sure you’re not gonna regret this when we go back to work, Robbie?”
“Too late now.” Robert fingers at the buttons of Victor’s dress shirt. “If I’m gonna tell you one of my big secrets, it should be worth it.”
“You got other big secrets you’re not sharing?”
“Maybe.” Robert gets on his tip-toes and brushes their noses together. He’s so much easier to see in the dark for Victor, every angle of his face highlighted by the glow of the moon through the windows. “You have more important things to worry about right now.”
More important things like the way Robert grinds down against the thigh Victor has pushed between his legs, like how he opens his mouth nice and easy when a tongue licks against it, like the soft little noises he makes when his hair is tugged at the roots. He finally gets Victor’s shirt undone and pushes it off his shoulders, dragging his hands down through the fur decorating his chest as they kiss.
Robert’s shirt gets the same treatment and, as fucking awesome as it is to be tangling tongues, Victor can’t resist pulling back to get his first good and thorough look at the guy who’s been driving him nuts. He’s more muscled than you might expect from just seeing him at first glance, but it’s nothing impressive compared to the hordes of heroes they work with on the daily. He’s still a skinny little bitch, collarbones prominent and wrists breakable. What Victor is really interested in, though, is the scars decorating his body.
You might miss it if you didn’t know to look for it. It’s faded, especially compared to the swathes of pink tissue criss-crossing his skin, but it stretches across the entirety of his sparsely haired chest with a precision too intentional to be the result of battle. Victor can’t help but trace a claw along it slowly, Robert shuddering under it.
“What’re you-”
“Can you feel that?”
Robert pushes Victor’s hand away from his chest. “Uh, not really? Nerves are mostly severed. Why?”
Victor slots their mouths back together as a diversion, mumbling into him, “Just curious.”
It works good enough, Robert slowly melting into him the longer that their tongues slide against each other. He rocks his hips down against the muscle of Victor’s thigh, and he must be fucking dripping with how eager he is, panting and grabbing on like he’s in heat. Victor isn’t that much better off, grinding the bulge of his erection into Robert’s pelvis. A low growl rises out of him without permission, fangs scraping at soft skin, and Robert tears his mouth away with a yelp.
“Shit!” He licks at his lips, blood smearing over them, and looks up at Victor through eyes hooded in arousal. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”
Even just the suggestion of it has Victor surging forward, this time aiming for Robert’s neck. He nips at the soft, sensitive flesh under his ear where he’s lightly stubbled, careful not to puncture flesh but determined to make a mark. He only falters once Robert gets his fly down and reaches into his pants, thin fingers wrapping around his hard cock. His hips jerk forward at the light pressure and he huffs against Robert’s bobbing jugular.
Tempting as it is to layer purple and blue all up and down his throat, Victor doesn’t want to miss out on the view. He leans back up and peers down at where Robert strokes him with utter concentration, hair mussed and cheeks bright red. Without thinking, Victor’s hand creeps up again, and he presses his palm over Robert’s right nipple before kneading at the minimal flesh he finds there like he’s still got tits to play with.
“How big were they?”
Robert’s hand slows around his cock and his face twists up. It’s a little forward, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for wondering. If Victor isn’t mistaken, he can make out some stretch marks under the mess of scar tissue, devastating as the smoldering remains of the Library of Alexandria.
“…I don’t know? I wasn’t exactly keeping tabs.”
Victor hums, drags a thumb over a nipple. “You got any pictures, at least?”
“You’re fucking joking, right?”
It was worth a shot. In lieu of an answer, Victor fucks forward into Robert’s stilled hand hard enough to knock him into the wall. He’s even cuter than usual when he’s got that irritated look on his face, so Victor doesn’t mind letting the bratty little eye roll he gives him slide, especially not once he keeps up those practiced strokes. For a guy without his own dick, he sure knows how to work one right.
“Bedroom?” Desire to spread him out beneath him starts to churn within Victor, images of him laid out with his cunt on display making him throb and drip over the back of Robert’s hand. “Now?”
“If you’re ready to stop being a freak.”
That’s kinda the exact opposite of Victor’s plans, certified freak and all, but he keeps that to himself as he guides them down the hallway to his king-sized bed. He’s had no complaints about it yet. They almost topple over at least two or three times on the way there, unwilling to let go of each other for even a second, and when the back of Robert’s knees hit the edge of the bed, Victor shoves him down and climbs over him like he’s prey, hard cock bobbing between his furry thighs. Robert’s eyes are locked on it, pupils blown wide even in the darkness.
“Impressed?” Victor leans up and grabs himself at the base, shuffling forward on his knees until his dick is just about kissing Robert’s freckled cheek. “Or, maybe just jealous?”
“Oh, fuck you.” It doesn’t come out as intimidating as Robert probably means it to sound when every word makes his lips brush against the wet tip. “I didn’t realize how much you were gonna get off on being an asshole.”
“Aw, Bobby, it’s like you don’t even know me.” Victor grins, giving himself a tight squeeze. Precum drools out of the head of his cock and he rocks forward, smearing it across Robert’s pouting mouth. “Don’t feel bad. I’ll let you make it up to me.”
Whatever bitchy retort Robert was cooking up gets cut short in his throat when Victor cups his jaw, squeezing lightly in a simple order to open wide. Apparently, whatever annoyance he has isn’t enough to keep from obeying, and Victor can almost see it dissolve completely the second he presses the head of his cock onto Robert’s tongue. He sighs in pleasure, like it’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted, before licking at it, hands coming up to grasp at Victor’s legs. His eyes flutter shut as he seals his mouth around the tip and makes Victor jerk his hips forward.
It’s obvious Robert has some practice at this, knowing exactly the right spots to press his tongue against and opening his throat with ease. Victor slides his hand up from his jaw over his lightly stubbled cheek and over his head where he digs clawed fingers into his hair. Robert startles, choking around him, but doesn’t even try to pull away. Instead, his hands climb higher up Victor’s thighs, brushing through fur that gets thicker and thicker the closer it gets to his groin and pulling him in closer.
“Fuck,” Victor growls out, just about drawing blood again with hard he’s got his nails pressed into Robert’s scalp. “Figures you’d be a slut.”
He uses his hold on stupidly soft hair to fuck his mouth at a steady pace, Robert looking up at him through those stupidly long lashes the entire time and making a high, pathetic noise with each breach of his throat. Victor only decides he’s had enough once tears start to brim his eyes. He pulls back, his spit-wet dick popping out of Robert’s mouth with a gasp and slapping against his cheek. The cheeky fuck nuzzles against it before he presses a kiss against the shaft and smiles up weakly at him, lips shiny and pink.
“You’re not gonna finish already, are you?”
Victor scoffs, although it would be a lie to say he didn’t get pretty close, and shuffles back down the bed to maneuver himself between Robert’s legs. He lets it happen, spreading them wide as Victor presses in close and rocks his bare erection into the crux of his hips, right where he knows his pussy is beneath layers of denim and cotton.
“If you want me to cum inside you that badly, you only have to ask.”
Robert’s actually got the audacity to laugh at that, rough and breathless as it is. “In your fucking dreams. You have a condom, right?”
Victor blinks. The thought hadn’t even entered his mind. “Uh, no. I don’t really do condoms.”
Robert squints. “You don’t ‘do condoms’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Victor ruts against the heat between Robert’s legs in hopes of distracting him, earning himself a startled yelp. “My pull-out game is strong.”
“Tell me why I have a hard time believing that,” Robert says, still somehow throwing some sass out when he's about to leak through his pants. It’s part of his appeal, that attitude always firmly in place.
“You don’t see any of my pups running around Torrance, do you, Bob? Trust me,” Victor says coolly, dragging a hand down his chest before it lands at his belt and tugs at it, his pants easily shifting down skinny hips. He might be stretching the truth a little, but, worst case scenario, he loses $50 to a Plan B, no big deal. “I know what I’m doing.”
“…Do not make me regret this, Sonar, I swear to God.”
Robert lifts himself off the bed, helping to pull his pants down, boxer briefs coming with them. He’s acting awfully eager for someone who looks so skeptical, but Victor doesn’t even have a chance to tease him for it when he finally comes face to face with what he’s been dreaming about and touching himself to. It’s not even worth trying to hide how entranced he is.
There, nestled innocuously between Robert’s thighs like it hasn’t been controlling Victor’s thoughts and actions, is his cunt, and, fuck, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him and exactly what he wanted. His clit is fat and swollen and pink, a perfect fit for right between your fingers, and he already looks so wet he’s dripping. Not as trimmed as Victor usually prefers, but whatever. He’s not gonna act like it still isn’t making his mouth water. Without wasting any more time, he takes a thumb and presses it against the slit of his entrance, dragging it up slowly until it lands at his clit. He circles his thumb against it, and Robert presses into it with a heady sigh, spreading his legs even further.
Yeah, he’s still got it.
Victor looms over his little dispatcher, taken aback at how much more prominent their size difference is now that they’ve shed their clothes and fallen into bed. Robert seems impossibly small falling apart in his hands like this, his body tight and lean, and once you add powers into the mix, it’s hard to imagine him being at all a challenge to keep pinned down to the mattress and sheathed firmly on Victor’s cock. He wonders how far apart his fingers would be if he wrapped his hands around that skinny ass waist while he fucked him from behind, how much of that slender neck he could fit snugly against his palm, how irritated Robert would be knowing that Victor is obsessed with all of it.
He sees it happen before he feels it: a long line of drool dripping from his snout and straight onto Robert’s chest. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this close to being feral just from getting to sleep with someone, his monstrous form simmering just under the surface, but he’s been anticipating this for weeks on end. Can you really blame a guy? The sight of it soothes some strange, possessive streak deep in his psyche, even if Robert blinks down at it confusedly through hooded eyes and then cringes.
“Gross. I’m not that hot.”
How he could possibly think that is beyond Victor.
As if to prove him wrong, he presses his index and middle fingers against Robert’s soaked entrance, finding it opening up to him easily. He’s mindful of his claws as he sinks them into tight heat, cock throbbing at the thought of what it’s going to feel like surrounding him. Another thick string of drool drips down from the opposite side of his snout, but Robert doesn’t even seem to notice as his head falls back against the bed and he wiggles his hips, pressing down against the intrusion.
Victor smooths his free hand down the planes of Robert’s body, fascination prickling at his brain. He’s an intoxicating mix of soft and hard, the rough texture of healed-over injuries contrasting sharply with smooth skin and thin hair. Muscled, but not even close to enough to distract from how lithe he is. Freckles dot his chest, fainter than on his face but still very much present. His whole body jolts under Victor’s touch when he crooks his fingers just right, and his hand flies up to cover his mouth and muffle a moan.
“Nah, don’t do that,” Victor complains, reaching up to tug Robert’s wrist back down. “I wanna see your pretty face.”
Robert scoffs, but it’s clear he’s flattered from the way he tightens up and darts his eyes away. He must not hear it often, fucking criminal, but he’s so pretty that it makes Victor’s balls ache and brain obsessive, especially once you strip him of that horrible collared shirt and get him spread out on your fingers in your bed. Like a testament to it, his inner thighs are sticky with precum that’s been steadily dripping from Victor’s cock ever since he got between them. He’s never looked better.
While it’s tempting to drag this out, give him another finger and make him beg until he’s crying, Victor himself isn’t far off from humping Robert’s leg like the animal he is and decides there’s no point in torturing both of them. He pulls his fingers out to Robert’s vocal disappointment and leans over him to dig under his pillow and pull out a bottle of lube. He looks down to see Robert’s eyes tracking across his arm and his chest, muscles flexed from the position, and smirks.
“Like what you see?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Apparently, he likes it enough to touch himself to it, clit pinched between his fingers where he strokes it like it’s an actual dick. It’s kinda cute, in the same way a puppy trying to growl like a big dog is cute. Cute enough that Victor lets him continue while he spreads lube and Robert’s slick over his length, grunting at the sensation after leaving himself hanging for so long. Fuck, he can’t imagine how good it’s gonna be once he’s actually getting his dick wet. Scooting forward on his knees, he hikes Robert’s skinny legs up, one over his hip and the other pressed up to his chest to spread him open.
“Fuck,” Victor hisses when the head of his cock brushes against Robert’s heated entrance. He’s shaking with the effort it takes to hold himself back from fucking inside hard and fast enough to hurt him. If he doesn’t show the guy a good time, he’s never getting this again. “Please tell me you’re ready.”
Robert tilts his hips up as much as he can in his position, letting Victor rut against his cunt, and throws his arms up to wrap them around him. He digs his fingers into fur that gets thinner the further down his back it goes and pulls him close, placing kiss after kiss against his throat. It’s uncharacteristically sweet, almost enough to make Victor feel uncouth for reminding Robert what he really wants by pressing the head of his cock right against his swollen clit. Almost.
“Robert.”
He feels the little bitch smile against his Adam’s apple as the desperate plea rattles out of him, because of course, he’s being a tease on purpose. Of course, he’s holding his pussy hostage purely for the love of the game. Victor, in excitement, sinks his claws into Robert’s side hard enough to pierce the soft flesh, tang of iron in the air making his nose twitch. Twiggy as he is, the slight curve of his hip fits Victor’s palm nicely.
“Ow, alright, yeah, I’m ready, just chill- ahh!”
Victor could probably stand to be a lot nicer when it comes to most things in life and sex is no different. He does try not to go too deep too quickly, but Robert is so soft and soaking wet and spread just wide enough that it simply can’t be helped. He doesn’t seem to mind that much, thankfully, if the moan he lets out when Victor’s cock is fully buried in him means anything. He’s so fucking tight that it feels like it’s squeezing all the logical, controlled thoughts right out of Victor’s brain like a lemon. It’s a miracle he doesn’t transform while he’s inside the guy.
He looks down to where he disappears inside, carefully tracing a clawed finger around the base of his cock, the edge of Robert’s entrance, and a pleased chirp leaves him. As if he would’ve let a condom ruin such a beautiful sight. He ruts forward just to feel that tight heat around every inch, and he would be content to stay here forever, balls deep in yonic heaven, if it weren’t for all the squirming and huffing and puffing going on beneath him. Someone must be getting desperate.
“Everything alright, Robbie?” he purrs.
“Would be a lot better if you actually moved at some point.” Robert clenches down hard, baiting him. Lesser men would fall for it.
“Aw, man, that’s no way to ask me for a favor.” Victor rolls his hips tightly again, pressing close enough to grind his pelvis down against Robert’s clit. “Try again, this time without the attitude.”
What he expects to happen is for Robert to aim big watery eyes up at him, stick out his bottom lip, and beg for Victor to please, oh, please just fuck me already, I need it so bad. Sure, okay, wishful thinking, but what he hadn’t even considered a possibility was the little guy getting the drop on him, using his grip on Victor’s fur to roll them over to the opposite side of the bed with a grunt. He ends up flat on his back with Robert seated in his lap, dick still firmly inside of him. He sits up and smirks in triumph, looking like the hero he once was, but the tremble in his thighs gives him away. This isn’t easy for him.
“You talk too much,” Robert says with a shift of his hips that makes Victor jerk up into him, bed frame creaking, before bracing himself with a hand right on his furry sternum. “Just let me do it.”
Although this isn’t exactly how Victor was planning on having things go, he’s not averse to being given a little show. Pale moonlight illuminates the lean lines of Robert’s body, shadows shifting across his sinewy muscles with every circle of his hips. The movements are clearly unpracticed, slow and arrhythmic, but there’s not a better seat in the house than Victor’s to watch him fall the fuck apart like he’s never ridden cock in his life. Huh. Isn’t that a thought?
“Fuck, look at you. You ever done this before?”
Robert huffs, cheeks bright, and halts. “Is it that noticeable?”
Victor’s dick jerks inside his cunt, both of them letting out surprised moans at the sensation. Knowing he’s the first guy to get Robert like this, flushed and sweaty while perched sweetly atop his thighs, makes his insides twist with lust. He drags his hands all the way up Robert’s legs, sparse hair soft against his palms, and grips his bony hips with sudden intensity.
“Well, obviously, I don’t see it as a bad thing.”
The corner of Robert’s mouth quirks up. “Pervert.”
Maybe so, but he seems to like it. Victor just shrugs before using his hold on Robert to encourage him to get moving again, guiding him until he's bouncing on top of him with blown pupils and an arched back. Each rise and fall of his hips is punctuated by a breathy ah! that’s more suited to a porno starlet than a washed-up dispatcher. He’s so wet that it messes the insides of his thighs and mats the fur around Victor’s cock, so soaked that Victor can smell the headiness when he takes a deep inhale like it’s the first flower of spring.
It’s not long until Robert’s rhythm starts to falter, his whines getting louder and bounces becoming frantic, and Victor decides he’s had enough of letting him think he’s in charge here. He has to earn that, and so far, his technique has been lacking. With a primal growl, he rolls them back over to the other side of the bed and nestles right in the crux of Robert’s legs. He fucks in so viciously that it slides Robert’s lightweight body up the bed with a choked cry before Victor yanks him back down and maneuvers his legs up over his hips.
“My turn.”
With one hand scooping up slender wrists and pressing them into the mattress while the other grasps a trim waist, Victor begins a punishing pace that has Robert’s mouth dropped open around a high, continuous moan and his pussy squeezing down around him like a vice. He tugs hard at where he’s pinned down, whimpering in frustration when all it does is make Victor hold him even tighter.
“Please, c’mon,” he begs, “Just let me touch my dick if you won’t.”
Is that what he calls it? Victor lets out a chuckle where he’s been busy huffing at Robert’s neck like they’re mates or something, and leans back up, nose twitching. Although he’s pretty sure it’s not a sentiment Robert will appreciate, Victor can’t help but voice his mind when he’s got him at his mercy like this.
“That’s adorable, really. So much so that, sure, I’ll let you touch your dick. I didn’t know they came in that size.”
He loosens his hold just enough to let just one of Robert’s wrists slip through, keeping the other imprisoned in his fist. Even as his hand immediately falls down between his legs, he doesn’t forget to shoot a heated glare Victor’s way. It’s hard to look very scary when you’ve got spoons of autumn honey for eyeballs and are getting fucked within an inch of your life, but there’s always props for trying.
“Shut the fuck up, seriously.”
“Hey, I’m just kidding!” Victor rocks his hips upward and pets Robert's abdomen with his thumb where he’s held fast. “You can take a joke, right? That’s what we love about you.”
“Just- try to watch your mouth for once in your damn life,” Robert warns, words harsh but with minimal bite behind them. He tips his head back and closes his eyes as he works his clit, like a silly little joke was bad enough that it makes him want to forget Victor, the very guy who’s cradled between his thighs and being so generous as to make him feel this good, is even there. That just won’t do.
Victor lets go of Robert’s wrist and lowers himself onto his forearm before snaking his opposite hand down to where their bodies join. He gently slaps Robert’s hand away from himself, but is quick to replace it with two of his own fingers, rubbing in quick circles that have him writhing in pleasure atop the sheets. Robert fists his hands into the fabric at his sides and presses himself down against the pressure on his clit and the length deep inside of him. Victor never would’ve guessed that a guy like him would be so fucking needy once they got down to business.
“Having you like this… Fuck, Rob, it really does things to me,” Victor says, voice shaking with the effort it’s taking to not sink his teeth into Robert’s neck or shoulder or anywhere that anyone who glances at him can see with ease. “Everyone is gonna be so jealous when they hear about all this.”
Despite the way Robert has gotta be into the idea of being bragged about and touted around like a trophy with how tight his cunt gets, his eyes snap open with panic and a strangled noise leaves his throat.
“You better not say anything to anyone, I swear to- oh, shit!”
And that’s the spot. Victor angles his hips just right and continues aiming right for it with a rumbling purr, determined to make Robert finish first when it gets harder and harder to hold himself back from a premature ending.
“What, you don’t kiss and tell?” he teases, though his voice is beginning to sound just as ragged and out of it as Robert’s. “Don’t want the team to know how much of a whore you turn into after a couple drinks and a cheap burger?”
“Sonar…”
A scrape of fangs along the throbbing artery in his neck. “They’d think it’s hot that you’re so easy, don’t worry, but… they might come after you next.”
“F-fuck.”
A slow lick over sweaty skin, long tongue sliding all the way up to curl around a notched ear. “Consider yourself lucky that I don’t like to share my things.”
“I’m not- Don’t- God, I’m gonna- Oh!” Robert’s body seizes up with a cry high enough to be fitting of Victor’s species, his pussy clamping down and legs tightening around Victor’s waist to bring him as close and deep as possible. He’s somehow even cuter when he cums with those slender little fingers digging into the meat of Victor’s biceps and perfect pearly whites doing the same to the pink of his lower lip. Victor fucks him through it, barely managing to hold on until Robert ends up splayed out over the sheets, eyelids droopy and limbs loose.
Animal instinct tends to override common sense when you’re this close to the edge. In Victor’s defense, you should totally expect that when hopping into bed with a hybrid that’s been panting after you for weeks, like, c’mon, but he knows that’s not the fairest of arguments. His point being, what happens next isn’t completely his fault, if you were to ask him.
The moment that Robert snaps back to the reality of the situation is clear on his face when his eyes pop open and his spine straightens. He looks up at Victor with concern and puts his hands against his chest, trying to put distance between the two of them.
“Hey, hey, wait, calm down.”
A snarl rips out of Victor at the prospect of even just slowing down. “I can’t, Bobby, I can’t.”
“Bullshit!” Robert shoves at him now to no avail, post-orgasm haze not doing a damn thing to keep him docile. “You said you wouldn’t do this!”
But it’s too late. He’s doing it. He’s cumming deep inside Robert while clawing at his sides, keeping him in place under the threat of new scars. Drool drips from the corners of his snout and smears across the thin skin of Robert’s neck when Victor noses across it, desperate to feel it between his teeth as he fills him with pump after pump of his hips. Robert sucks in a sharp breath when he feels the heat of it, exhaling on a low whine of discomfort when he realizes just how much Victor is capable of stuffing him with.
“You fucking asshole,” Robert rasps. He flops back down against the bed with a sigh of exasperation as he lets Victor exhaust himself, much to his relief. “I knew you were lying.”
That startles a snort out of Victor, and his hips still as the friction starts to feel painful and oversensitive rather than like electricity up his spine. He can already tell the transformation that had been bubbling through his veins is receding. “Then why’d you let me fuck you bare?”
“Because there was a chance you weren’t? I don’t know. You’re an asshole either way.” Robert squirms under the weight of Victor’s body where he’s settled himself on top of him, back hunched to keep himself as far inside as he’ll go. “You can get off now.”
“I’m flattered you think I could go again so soon, but we should give it a couple minutes.”
“Sonar, I’m not joking.”
“Aw, please, let me stay just a little longer?” Victor lifts his head, giving his best approximation of puppy eyes. “You’re so warm inside, I could be here forever.”
Robert grimaces. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Off. Now.”
“Alright, alright, it’s only fair after, y’know,” Victor says sheepishly, ears drooping as he lifts himself up off and out of Robert. He tries not to let the gush of cum that dribbles out of his pussy the second his softening cock springs free distract him from his apology for that very image, but it takes a second to blink the trance away. “Which I’m totally sorry about, of course. I should’ve, uh… You’re just really hot and it’s super distracting.”
“Right.” Robert does not look impressed. “Are you too distracted to grab a towel? Because I’m about to make your bed a mess.”
Victor scrambles off the bed to obey and practically flies to the bathroom, not wanting to test Robert’s patience any further. He’s lucky to be getting off with as little of a chiding as he is after pulling a move like that, the possibilities stemming off of that thought making his spent dick twitch. Alright, he’s getting ahead of himself. He grabs a plush hand towel off the rack in the bathroom, wets half of it, and races back to his bed to find Robert flat on his back with an arm laid over his eyes. The wet mess between his legs would make it obvious to anyone what just happened.
Victor’s first instinct is to toss the towel at him and let him clean himself up, but something stops him. Robert had called him an asshole, and he didn’t dispute it because, yeah, it was kind of true. Seeing Robert like this, more vulnerable than most in his nudity with all of his scars and secrets displayed, makes him want to be, at the very least, less of one.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Victor says as he settles on the edge of his bed by Robert’s feet and gently presses the wet towel between his legs. Such a shame to ruin a lovely sight so quickly.
“Relax, I’ll head home after I can feel my legs again.” He snags the towel from Victor, who puts up surrendering hands, and sits up to clean himself. So much for trying to be nice, he thinks ruefully.
“That’s not what I meant!” Victor climbs further onto the bed so they face each other. “It’s so late, you should just stay. I mean, I won’t make you, but it’s cool if you do.”
Robert looks up with his eyes narrowed and bottom lip pouted out. “Are you sure?”
“Duh.” Victor wiggles his nonexistent eyebrows. “It’s just a bonus if you’re up for another round in the morning.”
Even if Robert rolls his eyes, he can’t help but crack a smile at the same time. After a final swipe of the towel between his legs, he whips it right at Victor’s face fast enough to catch him by surprise and laughs when he sputters in disgust. The stained rag falls right over his cock, looking used up and sad as ever, and Victor takes it like the sign it is to wipe himself off.
“Is that Malevola’s?” Robert asks.
Victor crumples up the bright red towel and throws it to the floor with a guilty look. “Maybe. She’s got these fancy spa ones and I only want the best for my fearless dispatcher’s wrecked pussy.”
“Oh my God, please never say that again.” Robert shakes his head as he pulls one of his legs up and leans his arm atop it, something like fondness on his face. “She’s gonna kill you if she sees that.”
“She won’t.” Victor settles against the headboard next to him, their shoulders and legs brushing. “And if she does, maybe she’ll be so happy for us that it’ll keep her from wanting to kill me.”
Victor doubts she’ll feel that way with how disapproving she’s been of his behavior on top of losing their bet, but it doesn’t need to be said out loud.
“I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.” Robert leans his head on Victor’s shoulder, strangely soft and intimate after how explosive things had been. “Tonight was… fun, regrettably. Even though you said a lot of weird shit. Like, a lot.”
“I still made you cum.”
Robert huffs a laugh and stretches his arms above his head before shuffling down into the blankets and sheets. He yawns, making a stupidly adorable squeak at the end of it. “Can’t argue with that. Just don’t wake me up with your dick inside me, get me a damn pill, and I’ll forgive you.”
Victor clasps his hands together in a mock beg. “Not even just the tip?”
“Not even for a second.”
Settling into bed beside Robert, Victor tries his luck and pulls him tight to his chest. He’s not really one for cuddling, but he has a feeling the sappy little guy is and doesn’t have a problem at all with indulging that. Especially not when they’re both still completely stripped. “Easy. No promises you won’t wake up to some unintentional prodding though.”
“I can live with that,” comes Robert’s sleepy reply as he curls up and settles into Victor’s arms, their forms slotting together with perfection.
It’s comfortable despite both of them being sticky with cum and sweat and lube. Much dimmer light than earlier washes the room as the moon moves across the sky and away from the window, easing the strain on Victor’s eyes even further. He could probably count every single freckle, every eyelash, every scar of Robert’s like this, wrapped firmly around him in the late hour of the night.
Now that he’s had him, now that he knows how tight and wet and scorching hot he is, Victor isn’t sure he’s gonna be able to go back to just dreaming about what it would be like. He prays to whatever power that might be floating around out there to please keep Robert coming back for more. There’s so many things Victor wants to do to him, so many things he wants Robert to do to him, it would be cruel to cut things short now. He can play nice for as long as he needs if it means getting those wry smiles, being on the receiving end of that attitude, having a guy like Robert warming his bed whenever he needs.
At the very least, mission accomplished.
“By the way, before you pass out, Mal is bringing breakfast in bed tomorrow.”
He cannot fucking wait to rub this in her face.