Chapter Text
Herman settled into his bed, limbs tired from a long day of missions. The plastic cover crinkled loudly beneath him, and he sighed. His grandma was out with friends tonight, which was a golden opportunity for how he wanted to spend his friday night. His Mecha Man poster seemed to judge him for what he was about to do, and he mumbled a quiet, "sorry, boss."
He slid up against his pillows, and unlocked his phone, already growing aroused at the idea of what he was going to do. He was so bad. Did that make it hotter? Imagine Robert finding out, he thought, and a shiver ran down his spine. He logged into his AO3, already searching up his favourite tag. Mecha Man Blue/Reader, he typed. Peaople were posting less about Mecha Man, but at least he knew he wouldn't stop just because he wasn't doing hero work anymore.
He scrolled past the first two fics, until the third one caught his eye. Praise Kink, Office Sex, Throat Fucking. Definitely. A twinge of guilt flared in his chest for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it. Maybe it was wrong, but it wouldn't affect his relationship with Robert.
You step into SDN just as usual, heart beating a little quicker at the sight of Marcus. The Mecha Man. Your heart flutters when he winks at you.
Herman stopped reading. It wasn't so good now that he knew Robert. That wasnt how he acted, wasn't his name. He groaned. He closed his browser and instead opened his notes app. He needed to update his fanfic anyway, people were waiting on him. He wrote for all of thirty seconds before mumbling incoherently, and switching to old reliable Youtube. If he wasn't interested in reading, he knew he could count on videos of his celebrity crush/boss/friend. He was so fucked up. He searched for Mecha Man, a few videos of interviews he'd seen countless times flashing past his eyes as he scrolled. MECHA MAN ASSAULTS REPORTER, one of the titles said. He knew this one by heart, and he clicked onto it.
"-Two parter. First, why didn't Shroud kill you? You haven't been conscious for months. It'd be easy money taking you out," the reporter snapped his journal closed and waved his pen around slowly.
"Okay, Shroud wanted the Astral Pulse and Mecha Man gone. He got both. I'm not sure I mattered much," Robert spoke slowly.
"Right. You're unimportant. Which leads me to my next question. Most heroes avenge their family. You did the opposite."
Mecha Man frowned slightly as the man spoke. His shoulders tensed, and he let out a small sigh. He was very clearly trying his best to keep his cool.
"You killed their legacy. How disappointed would your dad be if he were here right now? Your father, your grandfather, they must be rolling over in their graves."
Robert turned without a word, and walked to the man. He made a show of closing his fist, then headbutted him, and stomped on him when the man fell. He kicked him a few times, and the crowd started to chant.
Herman palmed himself through his soaked boxers as he watched. He wished that, maybe, Robert would do something like that to him. He shuddered at the thought of Robert pushing him to his knees, grinding the heel of his shoe into his stomach, or maybe his dick. He wouldn't let Herman touch him, he barely even deserves the boot. Maybe if he was really good, Robert would let him hump his leg. His phone was forgotten at his side, and he mumbled to himself while he turned over to hump at his bed. His eyes fell on his body pillow.
He wished it had a picture on it, but something was better than nothing. He closed his eyes as he pulled the cushion inbetween his legs. "Robert," he murmured. "Fuck, Robert, need you so bad. Want you to-to hurt me. Kick me." His head fell forwards as he whined into the pillow. "Robert, Robert, Robert," he moaned lowly. "Fuck."
"Never heard you swear before," a far too familiar voice chimed from his phone.
"Robert!" He nearly screamed. Mortification dripped from his voice, and his hips stilled so suddenly he wondered if whiplash was possible. "I'm apolo-sorry! So, so sorry! How did-how much did you hear?"
"Something about wanting me to... kick you?"
The colour drained from Herm's face, and his jaw hung open. "Sorry," he squeaked and hung up. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it thumping against his ribs.
A loud ringing came from his phone, and he reluctantly picked up, "sir."
"Got me all riled up and then hanging up is pretty inconsiderate, Herm." He could he the smirk in Robert's voice.
"You're-this is a joke. Er, a prank. Not true. I'm sleepi-dreaming?"
"And here I thought I was the one dreaming. Wanna continue what you were saying before I spoke up?"
Herman sputtered, "You're serious?"
"As the plague."
"Well, um. I was looking-watching your old interviews. From-from before SDN. The one where you beat up a reporter." His voice hushed at the admission. It felt like confessing to a crime. "I wanted-want you to, uh, to do something like that with, er, with-with me. Be rough and-and push me down. Make me yours."
He heard a low groan from the other end of the line, and a zipper. He flushed when the realization dawned on him.
"Keep talking, Herm," Robert's voice came out strained. "You're being so good."
"Want you to, um, kick me. In the balls. Make me hump you like an anim-dog. Like a dog. Maybe put a collar on me, if-if you wanted, of course."
"Didn't know you were such a freak," Robert said while biting back a moan. "Yeah, fuck, you'd look so good with a leash, too. You probably look so good right now, wish i was there. You're being so good for me."
Herman's hips jerked, and he whined as he came in his boxers. He heard a similar grunt from Robert, along with some heavy beathing.
"We'll have to do that again sometime, Herm. So hot."
"Th-thank you, sir-boss!"
His phone screen went dark for a moment after the call ended, then lit back up at a text from Robert. He opened it hesitantly, worried that maybe it really was just a prank. His dick twitched at the photo. It was of his boss' chest, stomach, the lower half of his face, and, most importantly, his dick. A line of cum dribbled down the side of it and over his fingers, and he appeared halfway through his orgasm. The tip was flushed a bright pink, and he had his lip caught in his teeth.
Herman felt himself stiffen at the image, and immediately gathered up the courage to send one back. He wiped himself off halfheartedly, then gripped his own length with his left hand. he rested his phone against his thigh for the much needed stability, and snapped the picture. He observed it for a moment, then deemed it good enough to send.
Robert: Holy fuck
Herman: Is that a good thing?
Robert: Definitely