Chapter Text
Herman wouldn’t consider himself a bad person. Far from it, actually. Not to jerk his own horn (toot, Herman, the word is toot), but he’s lived a pretty fulfilling law-abiding, good samaritan life. He helps old ladies cross the road — mostly his grandma, but when the time arises he won’t shy away from lending a regrettably moist arm. He saves cats from trees — also mostly his grandma’s, but there was a call he once answered that left him with many a cat scratches, but also a very happy little girl and the title of savior bestowed upon him through sweet-rotten teeth. Hell, he even helped save LA from burning to the ground both metaphorically and physically!
Herman wasn’t—isn’t a bad person. And as a not bad person, he definitely wouldn’t perv on his co-workers. Especially not his boss-sort-of-superior-who-is-now-kinda-working-with-him co-worker.
There’s been talk around the SDN office, or, well, the Z-Team and anyone unfortunate enough to be paying attention to the news broadcast during a certain oddly calm lull in Torrance, of an anonymous supered pervert making a name for themselves on the internet.
“Hoooly shit, look at this!” Invisigal – Courtney – quickly spun her phone around to the other Z-teamers (the remaining ones that decidedly didn’t ditch work, that is) lazily lounging about the break room with a tone so enticingly shit-eating that it couldn’t help but draw everyone’s attention. That or the boredom of such a slow day was really getting to all of them.
“Bitch, what is this?” It was after a beat that Prism spoke up, gesturing in a small circular motion with her hand. “Is this your way of saying you’re fucking Blazer? ‘Cause we’ve been knowing.” Both her and Flambae, who had pushed himself from his perch by the wall just to gander at the girl’s phone, had been squinting at the offending screen for so long that Waterboy couldn’t help but meander a little closer, attempting to sneak a peek at whatever they may be looking at too.
The awkward squawk of his wet shoes slipping undermined any attempt of his ‘sneaking’, however.
Invisigal snortled, flipping her phone back towards herself, mindlessly scroll-tapping through what Waterboy only could guess was some social media account. “I wish. It’s that pervert’s–” Her eyes flicked up to Herman’s and, for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought she was talking about him, “Yo, dude. If you’re that interested, just come sit down. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”
“Uh– Yeah–! Yep..!” He barely managed to stutter out, internally chastising himself for the red embarrassment he can physically feel rushing to his face (not that it was much visible against his rosacea, but the feeling was humiliating enough). His too long limbs tumbled over themselves as Herman all but flung himself towards the circular table hosting the trio, almost as if the woman’s offer would be ripped out from underneath him at any moment despite the Z-Team warming up to him considerably over all they’ve gone through the past few weeks.
His decision to stand stiffly behind the empty offered chair, gripping at the top of its backing with an unsure, but thankful smile on his face, garnered a blatant questioning stare from Alice and Flambae before their attention was pulled back to the topic at hand, no further thought being put into his demeanor as that’s just Waterboy, well, being Waterboy.
“As I was saying… It’s that pervert that was on the news’s account.” Courtney laid her phone on the table, upside down and faced away from her, allowing the others and Herman to finally see what’s been on the screen as she leaned back in her chair.
It didn’t particularly look like anything special. Just someone’s Youtube channel. Filled with videos, as a channel is. Videos with titles such as ‘Sweetalker Sweet Talks You ;) || Sweetalker x Listener’, ‘You + Me = Perfection || Brainbook x Listener’, and ‘Date Night with Blonde Blazer || Blonde Blazer x Listener’. Videos that quickly devolved into ‘[NSFW DEMO] BB, Put Some Babies in Me! || InvisiBlazer Podfic’, ‘[COMMISSIONED NSFW DEMO] Alien Anatomy || Phenomaman x Listener’, and at least ten more videos of not safe for work Invisiblazer — which was a pairing of Invisigal and Blonde Blazer, Herman guessed, based on the accompanying drawn thumbnail images — ‘podfic’s that he could make out through Alice’s borderline can’t-look-away-from-a-car-wreck scrolling.
“You know– The guy that mimics voices?” Courtney continued, quickly following up with a ‘we were all watching the TV, right?’
“Oh. That guy.” Sonar, who had suddenly appeared next to Waterboy, piped up like it was the most casual thing in the world to be talking about at their workplace. “I paid for their stuff before. Was kinda eh. Would be better with visuals.”
“Dude, literally no one asked for what you jerk off to.”
Flambae’s quick shut down caused the bat-man (man-bat?) hybrid to visibly deflate, ears flattening against his head as he retreated back to nursing his concerningly gray ‘protein shake’ by the counter once more, an action only responded to with an eyeroll from the other hero and a ‘fucking weirdo’.
“So, what? You’ve got a superfan. Big deal, I do too.” Chad continued, flicking the bang that always managed to escape his ponytail with the smugness of someone actively whipping hair in someone’s face (which he, thankfully, was not) “Multiple vying for my attention, actually.”
“Hah! Puh-lease!” Prism barked out a laugh, “The retirement home ladies can get wet all they want gawking at your gay ass. I’ve got more fans, followers, superfans than all y’all asses com–”
“Wait, wait, wait.” The speed in which Invisigal shot up almost caused her chair to tip over, momentarily making her comically swing her arms around for balance before finally slamming them onto the table for purchase. “Scroll back up.”
Prism quirked a brow, her silent judgement not lost to Herman, but the vaguely desperate tone the other woman held caused her to proceed in doing as told. “If you saw something you wanted to keep in your spank bank, you a freak for asking me to go back to it– Oh, wow.” Alice snorted, then covered her mouth with her hand, then laughed again, her shoulders visibly shaking in an attempt to stop chuckling. “Oh, that’s good.”
“What? What’s so funny–?”
Before Flambae could utter another word, Invisigal tapped on the offending video, rapidly pumping up the volume before it even began.
A visual of flames, the sound of fire crackling, vaguely intense music playing in the background. All accompanied with bold text.
CAPTURED AND TEASED
Mecha Man x Villain Era!Flambae
[ NSFW Demo ]
Waterboy willed himself to not laugh. Because it wasn’t funny. Because if he did laugh, surely he’d be leaving the SDN office with burns of some sort, water and all. So Waterboy did not laugh, because it wasn’t funny. Rather, he involuntarily spat water in a sort of spit take, misting the hero across from him which was, arguably, worse.
It’s not to say that it was unexpected. He frequents social media sites. He knows about the fanbase their dear dispatcher’s persona had built over the years. He’s seen the news conspiring about Mecha’s Man’s surprising synergy with the Z-team whenever one of them were out on a mission with him. He even found a little humor in gossip magazines constantly pumping out articles of Mecha Man’s supposed ‘love life’ (he hopes Robert forgives him for the subtle diss, but Herman didn’t think he had much going on minus the HR violations he sees the man filing through ever so often. Hopefully, it’s just the HR violations. Herman doesn’t think he could fight off a hero from the DTLA branch or something). So, Mecha Man being paired with someone wasn’t unexpected, rather, who he was with was (and, he’d like to say from an entirely unbiased opinion, he doesn’t see it).
“You think this is funny, Wetshartboy?”
“No, no–! Not funny at– At all!” Which would at least sound a tiny bit true if he wasn’t currently grinning from ear to ear (he doesn’t know what he does find funnier, the ridiculousness of this situation he found himself in as a whole or the fact that Flambae was getting mad at it).
“Oh, he definitely finds it funny.” Invisigal added, unhelpfully.
Thankfully, before anyone — Waterboy — could be singed, Robert’s voice rang out through the room.
Or, Not-Robert’s voice.
‘It’s over, Flambae. You’re cornered. There’s nowhere else to run off to this time.’
The voice changer being used to give Mecha Man that mecha feel, to put it simply, was a little (a lot) ridiculous. Herman didn’t know if he hoped the rest of the video would be with or without it as the others stared at the phone in rapt attention, momentarily stunned.
“What the fuck? Is fucking Megatron talking to me?”
“For a meta with voice powers, they sure suuck.”
“Wow, the media was worried about this guy? The only people getting tricked by that are grandmas… Or someone really desperate.”
It had seemed that the initial excitement over a supposed sexy audio between their dispatcher and Flambae was short lived. Perhaps Sonar was right and the guy was just ‘eh’. Perhaps Herman didn’t have any right to have been excited over it.
‘Why don’t you come out of your daddy’s suit and fight me one on one, Mecha Man. Or, what, you too scared?’
“Nevermind! I take it all back! That’s definitely your voice, Bae.” Prism laughed, slapping the man’s arm in such a way that caused him to get over his initial shock, sputter, and wrench his body away from her. “They even got your accent down to a tee! Maybe they just suck at doing Roberto’s voice–” She snickered, nudging the man in what Herman assumes an attempt to get him to chill (hah) out, “Too bitchy and flaccid or something.”
“I don’t–! I do not sound anything remotely close to that.” Flambae hissed through his teeth, attempting to swipe at Invisigal’s phone.
Not-Robert’s voice interrupted him once more. Or, rather, Not-Robert’s laugh.
It sounded like a microwave attempting the heimlich on itself.
It sounded so bad that Invisigal had to scramble out her inhaler to ease her laugh-coughing.
“Oh my god– Oh my god, did he sound like that when he–” She gasped harshly, taking another puff of her inhaler. “Did he sound like that when he sliced your fingers off–!”
Waterboy really shouldn’t have added fuel to the fire by wheezing along with Prism, trying to cover his face, or mouth, anything to stifle himself.
“I’m going to make sure you fucking choke–”
Then, there was a groan. Loud enough to shut Flambae’s raging and Prism’s laughing. The scene had obviously changed, skipped forward a little, even — the fancy fanfare of music being replaced with clothes rustling and zippers unzipping.
Herman, in his head, distinctly correlates the groan with Robert stretching. He thinks of how he’d hear the man’s bones audibly crack through his tiny earpiece during the times the dispatcher would forget to mute.
Someone always inevitably asked ‘who’s under your desk, Robert?’.
Herman tries not to think about how he can pinpoint what action goes with what Robert noise like some sort of perverse shape puzzle, especially not when he’s with his colleagues in public.
‘Oh yeah, fucking take it.. If I knew it’d be this easy to catch you in the first place, I would’ve done this ages ago.’
“Waait.” Courtney whined, swiping a tear from her eye. “Where’d the voice changer go? Now it just sounds like Robert.”
Which was a problem, because it sounded exactly like Robert.
“Is Mecha Bitch dicking me down with his tiny Mecha Peen?”
The obscene slapping sounds and accented moaning of Mecha Man’s name pointed towards yes.
“No fucking way. I would not let that happen. I’d be the one fucking him– Can I report this for being inflammatory??”
“Bitch, your entire existence is flammatory.”
Prism shut the man up indefinitely. The fake look of shock on the other hero’s face caused her to let out a small huff of laughter before returning to scrolling on her phone, the room falling into a somewhat silence. Which started to become a bad thing because now it was just four adults gathered around a table (and a man-bat-bat-man sulking in the corner) listening to two of their not-colleagues fuck.
Waterboy begins to think that maybe he should’ve taken Malevola’s offer of ditching work and going on that spa date with her and Golem.
“You guys know that you shouldn’t be watching porn at work, right? Scratch that. You shouldn’t be watching porn in public, period.”
Waterboy is really starting to wish he took up Malevola’s offer. Having some nice cool cucumber slices over his eyes sounds really good right now. Having cucumber slices all over his entire face sounds really good right now, actually.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist you weren’t invited, Bob-Bob.”
“Yeah, jealousy’s not a good look on you, babe.” Prism kissed her teeth, barely looking up at Robert through her shades, “Though, I don’t know what would look good on you.”
Robert’s—Mecha Man’s eye twitched, “Mecha Man. When I’m in the suit, it’s– Jesus, can you turn that off– It’s Mecha Man.”
Invisigal rolled her eyes, throwing up a mock salute and a ‘sure thing, Lieutenant Ro-Dan-bert’ before making a show of picking up her phone, lowering the volume, then presumably turning off the video. Waterboy can visibly see the migraine creeping up Robert’s body.
Herman wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice — perhaps it was just how nimble the other man learned to be or that he was too preoccupied with trying not to blatantly stare at the man — but all of a sudden there was a certain warmth wrapped around his upper bicep and Mecha Man standing right in front of him. “Kid, if they’re making you uncomfortable, you don’t need to stay, alright? You can just leave… or report them to HR.”
Hearing Mecha Man — or just Robert — call him ‘kid’ always brought strange butterflies to his stomach. He didn’t like it, but it’s not that he did not not like it. Herman just hopes it’s not some weird sex thing. He doesn’t need any more weird Mecha-Robert-Man related sex things on his plate.
“It’s not– I’m wanted to– I watch porn–! I watch–… Porn at home. Not at work.”
????
Herman would like to think that working with the Mecha Man didn’t phase him anymore; that it was just a daily occurrence to him now whenever Robert would switch between dispatching and doing hero duties (or doing both at the same time, which was insane to him) every other day. But there was really something the suit does for him, which he doesn’t like to admit. Maybe it’s because he knows the man underneath now, or that he can see his freckles barely peeking above the coif covering half of Robert’s face, or that the mask really makes his brown doe-like eyes pop in such a way that makes Herman’s heart beat that much faster (something he noticed during their first meeting where the man was half-way on his lap) (something he doesn’t need to think of right now).
Currently, the suit was affecting his speech, and, unless Royd hooked Robert up with some aphrodisiac gas dispensing machine (unlikely and also probably wouldn’t affect him anyways, he’d just dilute everything), Waterboy just made a very mortifying attempt at rectifying that he was not a kid.
In his head, he calculates the cost of buying a six by two plot of land (because he doesn’t deserve one that could actually fit his gangly body) and a coffin.
“O-kay.”
Despite every nerve in his body telling him not to look and to just book it because he’s ruined every single chance he might’ve possibly had with the other man, Herman glances down at Robert.
He has that vaguely amused smile, the one he gets when he finds something especially humoring. The same look he had when Waterboy was rambling on about that plainly ridiculous Phenomaman advertisement in the lobby. He can feel his face heating up once more as he thinks about how well the look compliments the other’s tired face.
“Good to know you haven’t fallen to degeneracy yet, Waterboy.” The tiny chuckle Robert let out sent ripples through his body. Herman thinks he might as well die standing right there, Robert’s hand wrapped around his arm and all.
All good things must come to an end, however, and Herman’s ended with a small lingering squeeze to his bicep as the other man made his way to what he came to the breakroom for in the first place; that probably being food rather than to scold the Z-Team (and touch Waterboy).
Herman would like to say that he considered himself someone with a reasonable amount of self-control. He did chores around the house before relaxing no matter how tired he felt, he doesn’t vomit water as much now when he gets nervous, and he keeps his hero fanboying to a minimum while on the job. Yet, there was only so much restraint that poor little Herm could stuff into his wet, too-long body, and, worriedly, the day was running it thin quick.
Robert was bent over and it was ridiculous how good he looked. Robert was bent over and the fridge’s light only highlighted that damningly tight suit stretched across the plane of his ass and the small of his back and is he even wearing any underwear–? he can’t see any linesohmygodhermstopit–
He’s willing himself to look away. To look at anything– anywhere other than the general vicinity of the small kitchenette hosting the man because he does not want to get written up and fired, nor does he want his grandma to know that he got fired because he was ogling his boss’s ass in the break room.
Herman takes a deep breath.
Robert groans.
Herman’s eyes snap up to see Mecha Man stretching. He can see the newly rebuilt muscles of his back straining as Robert’s face scrunches up in a way that sort of reminds him of the cats back home, his mouth forming a satisfied sigh when he finally manages to alleviate the ache in his back.
“... Dude, you’re leaking all over my shoes.”
Fuck.
__________________
spongecake99 Yesterday at 22:34
Hello! I was wondering if your call services were still available?
spongecake99 Yesterday at 22:46
if not that’s ttally fine hshs
*totally
**haha
MicdMeta Yesterday at 22:50
Thank you for your interest!
I have a few slots still open which you can look at here. Feel free to put your name down and save a spot if you’d like. We can also discuss what you’re looking for first and your budget
spongecake99 Yesterday at 22:50
mrcha man
blue
mecha man blue
spongecake99 Yesterday at 22:52
Sorry! I had to look at your psckges agin!!
*packages again
id like the 30 min nsfw call please
with mecha man blue
MicdMeta Yesterday at 23:00
Can do
Fill out this form and read my TOS before sending over your payment
If there’s anything you specifically want which is unlisted, feel free to message me
If not, see you tomorrow ;)
__________________
Yesterday, Herman came home from work, made dinner for him and his grandma, fed the cats, and got his gran in bed.
Yesterday, Herman created an account on a sketchy camming site, messaged a meta about roleplaying as him and his boss-but-not-really, and filled out a form listing nicknames, a checklist of a variety of turn-on’s, a general plot (or lack thereof, he’s pretty sure he just put the vaguely censored truth of him being Mecha Man’s subordinate), and a lot of other things that he can’t bring himself to remember lest he psych himself out last minute.
Today, Herman lays on his bed, plastic baggy wrapped phone in hand, and wonders if this is really what he wants to be doing on a Saturday night — if this was really something he should be spending his paycheck on in the first place (darn SDN’s amazing healthcare insurance, Herm has way too much money to spend now without worrying about his grandma!).
He has half the mind to call it quits, to text ‘MicdMeta’ a sorry and maybe spontaneously confess all his other sins in the process (a horrifying thought that he does not even want to entertain), but he knows he can’t. There’s this sick urge inside him to see it through, to finally hear more than the little slivers of praises murmured into his ear after a job well done. Maybe, he deludes himself, maybe it’ll help him get over his downright painfully embarrassing crush on Mecha Man — on Robert.
Herman absentmindedly thumbs his phone on and off, watching the clock flicker forward with each pass.
Only a few more minutes.
He still has time to uninstall the app — erase all traces that he ever would do something as immoral and vile as this to his co-worker– to his friend!
Instead, he opens up Alice’s Instagram, taking great care to not accidentally like a photo with the torrent of water steadily rushing off of him and scrolls down several weeks worth of posts, seeing the Z-Team, her shows, promotional content, before finally landing on a familiar looking thumbnail. Something he knows would distract him until the call, at least.
It’s not to say that he frequents Alice’s Instagram often. He doesn’t even use his phone all that much, nevertheless social media. Most apps are formatted for mobile access and having to use a touch-screen device through gloves and a shoddy plastic barrier was painful to say the very least (texting was another thing Herm didn’t even want to get started on). But he’s scrolled through her profile enough (used it to find means for Robert masturbation material more like) to know what he was looking for.
The party held at Robert’s apartment. The one after the whole Red Ring fiasco, not before.
Of course, the man hadn’t planned it. The Z-Team just… showed up as they always did.
It was recently after Shroud had been officially sentenced. Maybe the entire team knew, maybe only he did, but Robert obviously wouldn’t be — wasn’t — in the best state after that.
He himself admitted, albeit perhaps a little too drunk, that Shroud was someone he’d thought he’d die taking down. A 2-for-1 deal, he joked. But he was still here. Shroud was alive, in prison, at least. And the implicit promise of vengeance he had with his dad — Mecha Man Astral — was left unfulfilled.
Which is why it was fucked up that Herman’s dick was flagging seeing the man’s face in the various candids Prism got of him.
Did he pavlov dog himself? Was that it? It’s a good thing Robert was inclined towards canines.
The first picture the brunette appears in he’s barely visible in the background, but still enough.
Herman swipes with one hand while the other goes to palm himself.
The second, a side profile. Robert’s jawline and nose are highlighted by the dozen lamps in his living room. His eye bags are deeper, hair that slight bit messier than usual.
He looked so handsome, so tired. Was it perverse to just want to hold him? It’ll surely be mildly uncomfortable. Damp, even. Robert probably wouldn’t enjoy that.
The third, Robert’s final appearance in the post. He’d finally noticed the camera, hand coming up to cover half the lens with that slight smile on his face. Herman has to urge to kiss the upturned corners of his mouth — maybe even kiss all his worries away and tell him, smoothly, that a smile looks great on him, though he knows, logically, that neither life nor his crippling anxiety worked like that.
He doesn’t know when he started panting.
His mouth was overfilling with water to the point where it dripped down his chin steadily.
Herman could spend the rest of his evening staring at this picture of Robert and cum at least twice while doing so.
BZZZT–!! BZZZZT-!!
“Wauhgh!”
His phone hits his face with a resounding slap, buzzing incessantly in its plastic prison as it slid down towards the bed.
The man quickly scrambled up, water flying about from the little reservoirs formed under the dip of his weight as he fumbled around the device, frantically trying to get his input of picking up the god damn call to register through the wetness.
“... Hermy?”
He double– triple checked that he did not, in fact, answer a call from Robert (entirely irrational on his part because one, why would Robert be calling him outside of work, and two, Robert has never called him ‘Hermy’ ever in the entire time that they knew each other).
“You there?” It was that slight bit of mirth mixed into his voice that had butterflies flaring in Herman’s stomach, the honey-toned teasing reminiscent of Robert’s bantering when he’s having an especially good day.
Herman reminded himself that this was not Robert and that whoever ‘MicdMeta’ was, they were just playing along. Whatever tone they took was just formed from acting as a boss trying to seduce his subordinate! Which also, coincidentally, was what Robert sounded like sometimes.
He’s not delving deeper into that.
“Hermy– Yes–! Herm! That’s me– I’m.. I am here!”
An awkward pause followed.
He’s regretting every single second that 70 dollars bought him in this call. This was such a waste of money. Stupid, stupid, horned up Herm.
Then, Robert– MicdMeta– Mecha Man laughed.
It was brief, uncruel, yet all the more humiliating. God, he felt his dick jump at the low timbre of the other’s voice. “You nervous? First time doing this?”
It’s soaked.
Herman is soaked. It was a mistake to have gone through with this — to have Mecha Man purring into his ear and tainting all the innocent interactions he’d had with someone who didn’t even think this way of him at all.
You nervous? Big job interview?
It’s all he could think about. It’s all his body could think about. Mecha Man’s leg pressing down the SDN couch between his, that lithe body practically sitting on his thigh. Would Robert like that? To use his thigh to get off while Herman sits there unable to do anything but watch as his hero felt good?
He barely suppresses a whine.
Mecha Man responds with a hum of interest, as if cataloging every little noise the man made picked up through the phone’s shitty mic. “So you’re not nervous. Just fucking your fist at my voice.”
“What–!” Oh my god, he’s choking on his spit. “I don’t– I don’t even have my clothes off– undressed yet…!”
Another little laugh has Herman’s hand shooting to squeeze his now throbbing length. He’s never going to be able to hear Robert even chuckle again without popping a rager.
“Sorry, sorry, I can’t help myself… I’m just teasing, Herm. Relax. We’ll take it at your pace.” Herman hears the man on the other side exhale with a satisfied hum. He can almost see Mecha Man himself lazing back in the mech’s cockpit, all its monitors lit up yet his eyes only zeroed on the one detailing their call. “Slow. Fast. Hard. Anything you want.”
This was wrong, this was so wrong.
It was already difficult going through the day with the man’s voice in his ear. Praising him, consoling him, taking him into private channels just to talk through the mission, whether it be a success or failure. Robert’s voice collared him, had him wrapped around his finger stuttering out ‘yes sir’s to each and every request, no matter how outlandish it could be. Each lingering touch, phantom hands only Herm could feel during the long nights spent rubbing himself raw to videos of men with the same sad brown eyes, tugged the leash harder towards his growing pit of degeneracy.
Now, to have that same man — voice, he quickly reminded himself — talking to him in that deep, sultry tone only saved for lovers. This was it. He’s reached the bottom, grabbed the metaphorical shovel that was his dick, and started digging more.
“But, let’s get you comfortable first. Wouldn’t want you ruining any clothes now, huh, Herm?”
“No– No, I don’t– Wouldn’t want– want that.” Herman quickly swallowed in what he swears was an audible gulp of saliva at the idea of being so horned up he’d cum untouched in his pants to Mecha Man just teasing him.
“That’s right, Herm. And you’re gonna be good for me and take them off?”
It was as if he had a mini Mecha-Devil in his ear rather than Robert’s voice coming through the phone in his white-knuckled grip, rattling the words ‘good for me’ in his head like he was some kind of moist maraca.
Before he could even register it, his dick hit his stomach with a wet thwack, hips canting up to slide those damning swim shorts he’d worn for sleep out of the way. Herman quickly deemed it impossible to take his shirt off without setting down the phone, an unthinkable task. He needed Mecha Man to hear him. Each sharp breath, whine, or whimper. Every single noise that came out of Herm’s mouth, because all of them were for him. All of them was Herm being good for him.
In the end, the man opted to pull the offending garment up to his collar bones, wet fabric scrunching up uncomfortably underneath his armpits as his hand immediately returned to relieving the pain of his neglected hard-on.
“All done?”
A panted ‘yes’.
“Good boy. Such a good, good boy, Herm. Always so quick to do everything I ask.”
The water from his palm was bad lubricant, Herman knew that. Each pass and twirl of his hand accompanied with wet schlick’s only reminded him of the aching rawness that would soon follow, but he doesn’t care. He just wanted– wanted–
“Want to–” His hips jerked up at a particular stroke, almost as if fucking something– someone. Deliriously, he feels Robert’s weight bouncing on him. “Want– want– sir–”
Mecha Man coos at him. Coos and he feels that leash tug around his neck more and more, “It’s alright, Hermy. I’m right here, not going anywhere.”
There’s a certain frustration that creeps into his movements, hastily jerking himself, hips desperately fucking into someone who wasn’t there like he was trying to prove something. The same feeling of being pitied, looked down upon like some kid who couldn’t do anything, twisted his stomach into unfamiliarly tight knots.
Maybe, it wasn’t frustration anymore.
“Want to be good– make you feel good–” Herm finally manages to wheeze out, squeezing the base of his cock as to not end things prematurely. Not until Robert knows how good he can be. “Please, sir. Please please pleasepleasepleasesir– Need it– Need you to know– Need you to say it–!”
Vaguely, he has the thought that Robert shouldn’t be riding him. If the strain of his own thighs were anything to go by, Robert shouldn’t be riding him at all. He wanted to take care of Robert, make him feel so so good and yet, the other man was still taking the reins. He could see it, those scarred thighs framing his own, tense with exertion.
The thought is dizzying. It has Herman unceremoniously twisting his body to mindlessly rut against the tarp covered bed like some animal, cheek pressed against the now definitely soaked through pillow.
Robert would be underneath him– And maybe, maybe, he’d be able to bend his legs back. Bend him in half. Bend Mecha Man in half. Reach so deep inside his hero that he’ll sear himself there forever.
He has half the mind to apologize for the joint pains.
“Sir– M’cha Man–”
What would Robert look like? Would his eyes flutter with pleasure? Would his lips be swollen with bites? Would he even be able to conjure up words to speak other than the little ah ah ah’s Herm swears to fuck out of him?
Robert groans appreciatively, and so does he in tandem, “That’s it, Hermy. Making me feel so fucking good. Keep going, baby.”
He could cry, or maybe he already is, bleary eyes forcing themselves open to look at the phone still positioned by his side, Robert’s picture still smiling at him from behind the screen.
“‘M gunna cum– gunna cum, sir– Mecha Man–”
Robert Robert Robert
“Go on, Hermy. You’ve been so good for me. Such a good boy. Such a good hero, Waterboy.”
White. Hot. Each stutter of his oversensitive cockhead against the rough texture of flimsy plastic bedding has another rush of blinding pleasure rolling through his body. He was good, good.
His body shudders with each pulse of watery milky spend. Another quality of his powers — excessive amounts of cum that he’d end up having to clean even if his legs feel like jelly–
“W-wait, Waterboy?”
No response.
“I– Hey, man, I never– Haven’t told you– Not– I’m not Waterboy.”
Herman regrets scrambling upright. His dick felt raw, no wonder, rubbing against the folds of his bed and sending his legs seizing, a downright painful spurt of ejaculate squirting out to join the lovely myriad of liquid pooled on his bed.
The call had cut itself. His 30 paid minutes were up.
He’d flood the room at the rate his body was expelling water, shirt thoroughly soaked, uncomfortable, clinging to his lanky frame.
He was so stupid. So overly excited at the thought of being able to experience Robert that he failed to realize that if MicdMeta already had an eye on Visi, on Flambae, of course, they’d know who Herman was. It’s not as if his voice and speech patterns were common even with his civilian name kept from the public.
Surely, the audio’s going to get leaked. He’s going to lose his job, lose his friends, lose Robert. Everyone’s going to realize how much of a degenerate pervert up-and-coming hero Waterboy was. Oh my god, his grandma was going to know.
Herman was a bad person, and he was so screwed.