Chapter Text
The first time had been in No Man’s Land. Another excursion to find out how Rudo made it down from the Sphere, another Raider ambush. Normal, everyday Raider ambushes are bad enough, but fights in No Man’s Land ramped up the stakes.
He and Jabber had gotten separated from the group, clashing in a dance of Mankira and Lovely Assistaff. It had ended up with Zanka’s mask knocked off to god knows where, the noxious air of the polluted area invading his lungs and slowing his every step. Assistaff, normally a welcome comfort to his calloused hands began to feel heavy in his arms, every swing taxing and requiring more and more breaths of poison air.
Zanka sucked in an involuntary breath, his lungs attempting to get better oxygen to fuel the constant movement. It was all he could do to fend of Mankira’s slashes, coming dangerously close every passing second, his sash getting torn to shreds, a swipe tearing through his sleeve almost cutting his arm. He had to keep light on his feet to avoid getting cut, but every breath bring him closer to passing out.
“Common Mr. Bad Attitude, this is getting boring!” Jabber shouted, spinning around him in something that vaguely resembled a waltz, his voice muffled by the mask. “Should I just go find one of the other cleaners to throw down with already?”
Zanka gritted his teeth, involuntary bringing back memories of biting down on Mankira, warming his face for some reason as the world began to get hazy.
Asshole.
Zanka eyed his mask supplying Jabber with clean, fresh air jealously. Things were really starting to get blurry now. He swung Lovely again to block another attack, the action feeling like dense molasses, then suddenly the world tilted.
“Done already? Aww.”
He seemed to fall in slow motion, catching a glimpse of Jabber’s disappointed face as he went down.
SLAM!
Dust rose up from where his foot had planted firmly on the ground, stopping his descent.
“No way in hell!” He yelled.
Jabber face broke into a grin, only inches from him and already ready to continue fighting.
Zanka glared daggers at the man who had stolen his air in front of him. His mind was ready to keep fighting, but his body was resisting. He needed air, now.
Suddenly, he surged forward, somehow managing to avoid Mankira’s claws as he tackled Jabber to the ground. In one swift moment he yanked down Jabber’s mask and-
His lips were on him. Why were his lips on Jabber’s?
Instead of going for Jabber’s mask, his poison-addled mind had decided it was a good idea to kiss Jabber Wonger.
But once he got that first gulp of air, he couldn’t go back. He pulled back slightly but before Jabber could get another breath in he pressed back insistently, licking into his mouth trying to absorb every last drop of oxygen he had to give.
Jabber’s hands came up around his waist, squeezing harshly, Mankira not deactivated but avoiding pricking him. He began to kiss back, tongue sliding into Zanka’s mouth drawing a muffled whimper out of Zanka.
Lying there on the ground, Jabber was confused, that’s for sure, but god. Zanka sucking the oxygen right out of him, refusing to let him breathe, pressing more and more into his mouth until it began to bruise was pure heaven. He tasted like pollution, the gas tasting like the sweetest candy in the world to a man with Jabber’s palette.
They pulled away to take in a poison-filled breath before pressing right back in; the kiss was no longer about clean air.
Zanka bit down on Jabber’s lip, the resulting moan muffled by the kiss. Mankira deactivated and squeezed hard enough to bruise, causing Zanka to flinch, hand clenching down on Lovely Assistaff. The two finally pulled back, panting.
They stared at each other for a moment before sounds of fighting growing closer startled them out of their daze. Finally realizing what he was doing, Zanka jerked back, ready to keep fighting before he was suddenly shoved by the face.
“This was fun, but we’ll have to do this another day, kay Mr. Bad Attitude?” Jabber crowed, waving jovially, his smile stretched wide.
“You-!” Zanka made to get up, hand coming to his face, before he realized he was touching metal. Jabber’s face was bare, his mask was pressed up against Zanka’s face where he’d shoved him earlier. His head snapped up only to find that Jabber was gone, off to rejoin the Raiders.
He growled, leaping up and running back into the fray after him.
Two years later, and this weird relationship of theirs was still ongoing. Zanka had gotten better at fighting, taking Lovely Assistaff to new heights. After he’d managed to beat Jabber, he thought that’d be it. No more reason for them to see each other. But somehow, they just keep seeming to make their way back to the other. Mostly, they fought. But after the kiss that left Zanka having to explain away the bruises on his hips and waist to Eishia as she treated him for the damage the pollution left on his lungs, they made out a few more times.
It was sporadic, moments of passion after a fight that left them both exhausted and fired up. Keeping this relationship of theirs a secret was no easy task, as Jabber was not opposed to just kissing him in front of his teammates, a situation he’d had to take great care explaining away later. He’d gotten slightly better at controlling that obsessed freak though, luring him away from the group with promises of going all out without anyone to bother them, hiding swollen lips behind masks and bruises under his shirt after the fight was over.
The constant embarrassing trips to Eishia was definitely a motivator in finally winning more and more of their fights.
And then there was the time they went further.
They’d met up to spar and engaged in a whirlwind dance of kicking up dusk and Mankira and Lovely making contact over and over. It ended as it had increasingly frequently, with them all over each other. Jabber’s tongue slid down his throat and his hands began to wander lower.
“Oi. The hell ya think yer hands going?”
Jabber chuckled up at him from his place head smushed against his chest, nose dribbling blood onto his uniform. “What, y’don like it?”
“I do no-Ah!”
He involuntarily let out a noise as Jabber squeezed his flesh. That cheshire cat grin grew even wider.
“You sureeee?”
“Positive.” He growled, but his face was burning.
One thing lead to another and they ended up doing it in some cave nearby, Jabber working him open finger by finger (Mankira still on but deactivated under the threat of death) while he clutched at the fabric of Jabber’s shirt. It burned every time the rings entered him but just the thought of it set his body ablaze.
Jabber fucked like he fought, unpredictable and fierce and Zanka was taken along for the ride, struggling just to keep up. He was left panting on the cave floor, cushioned by his jacket with his pants at his ankles and his undershirt pushed up to his chest.
“So, how does it feel to have your cherry popped?” Jabber asked from his spot sitting up somewhere off to the side.
“How-”
“It was obvious.” Jabber grinned and Zanka’s blood boiled.
“Yeah, well, got a problem with that?” Zanka tried to sit up and managed after a minute, a twinge of pain in his back.
“Nah. Ready for round two?”
“Round what?”
Jabber leaned over him, his dreads curtaining them both from the outside world.
“Round two~”
Zanka passed out somewhere around round three. He woke up to birds chirping outside, sperm drying on his chest, clothes still tossed everywhere, and no Jabber.
That day Zanka decided that he was never having sex with that guy again. And that he was going to peel his dick like a banana the next time he saw him.
Unfortunately, the next time he saw him he did not engage in the aforementioned dick-peeling.
Instead, after an all-out fight between the cleaners and the raiders which resulted in a stalemate between Zanka and Jabber, Jabber found him walking home early from the diner where his friends were stuffing themselves silly.
After enough whining from Jabber for a fight which Zanka declined because he was tired, okay? They settled on a sparring match, no weapons. Zanka ended up winning, his hell guard training coming in clutch.
“Damn, didn’t know you had it in you, Mr. Bad Attitude!” Jabber sang, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “But I’m still pent up, I mean, I’m pretty sure you broke something back there!”
He leaned in closer to his ear.
“Y’know, I do know of a good hotel around here.”
Here we go again. Zanka thought, rolling his eyes. But he still wound up following him to a dingy inn, Jabber’s hand at the small of his back as they checked in. The moment the door closed Zanka was pressed against it. Jabber’s hands roamed around his body and he eventually lost count of how many rounds they were at, more worried about the condition of the bed.
Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. He told himself every time Jabber brought him to another earthshattering orgasm. This time he took more control, straddling Jabber as he slapped and degraded him, causing the other to get more and more wound up.
Eventually though, his body gave out on him and it was all he could do to lie there, drool slipping past his lips and mind full of static, the feeling of Jabber in him was all his body could register.
Through blurry eyes he gazed at Jabber above him, who seemed to swim (or maybe he was swaying?) his pearly white grin the only clear thing.
“C’mon, c’mon Zaaaaankaa, don’t tell me you’re done already? I wanna keep plaaaaying.”
How is he still going? Zanka wondered through the fog.
“C'mon, degrade me more, hit me!”
“…Zanka?”
Jabber’s expression turned from excitement to disappointment as he realized Zanka was not getting back up.
“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? Alright then.” He huffed coldly, dreads covering half of his face. Jabber slid off the bed and quickly got dressed.
Wait. What is he doing? Zanka thought.
Jabber walked briskly to the door, stopping to say a quick goodbye to Lovely.
No, don’t go. Don’t you dare leave me a second time.
And with that, he was gone.
That bastard had left him twice.
First in a cave, then in a hotel room, both times covered in his own spend and left to pick himself up on wobbly legs and clean himself. He tried to cover the bruises on his neck as he did the walk of shame to give the lady at the front desk his payment before rushing out of there faster than he’d ever exited a scene before.
This time, for real, he was never sleeping with Jabber ever again.
So that brings us to Zanka sleeping with Jabber again.