Chapter Text
"What's this?" Robbie asks, squinting in confusion at the flat wrapped present his producer's holding.
"S'a Christmas party tonight, isn't it?" Ron takes a long pull of his cigarette, pushing the box into the star's hands. "So. Merry Christmas."
"Oh... thank you," Robbie replies pleasantly. He takes a couple steps towards his winter coat, on the hook by the door of Ron's office, reaching for one of its pockets.
Ron stops him. "No. Open it here."
Robbie pauses, giving the box another glance-over, before starting to pick at the dark blue wrapping paper. It's rectangular, slightly longer than it is wide. A tie, maybe? he wonders.
When he gets the box open, his eyes pop wide at the sight of what's inside. He can't stop staring.
"H...how did you know?" he says, his voice small, the hand that hasn't leapt to cover his mouth trembling around the cardboard.
"Had a hunch. Something about that ballroom gown getup you fought the sponsors so hard to let you wear, last Halloween episode." Ron's careful to blow his smoke away from the gift, then raises his eyebrows. "How'd I do?"
Robbie takes a couple gulps for air, looking like he's going to cry. He clutches the silky blue women's panties close to his chest, letting the box fall to the floor.
"Oh my god," is all he can whisper.
Ron nods, grinning wide around his cigarette. He flicks a finger at Robbie's pants. "Well. Get those trousers off. You're wearing that to the party, underneath."
Robbie can't get his belt unbuckled fast enough.
"I can't believe you'd do this for me," he says to his producer, his entire face still a deep cherry red through his freckles. He pauses, sheepishly looking away from the sudden tent straining against the cotton, before pulling his underwear shorts down as well.
"Gonna have to take care of that before we leave," Ron says smugly, ogling Robbie as he slides on the slip of silk. He reaches to press his pointer finger down gently on the tip of Robbie's cock, and lets go, smirking at the slim tool bobbing up and down from where it pokes over the top of the fabric.
The larger man takes a seat in his office chair, unzipping the fly of his suit pants and hiking them down to his hips to splay his legs wider, then gestures to his crotch, his cock already standing at full attention.
Robbie doesn't need to be told twice.
"Oh. Wow," says Ron, sucking in a breath of surprise as Robbie all but effortlessly inches himself backwards onto the producer's battering ram of a prick. Smoke climbs upwards around his face like a dragon, when he breathes out. "You showed up prepared..."
Robbie grins at him from over the powder blue shoulder of his jacket, as the grease tucked deep inside him glides along the ridge of Ron's cockhead. "I pick good presents too, sometimes. Anything for my Big Daddy."
With a roll of his eyes, Ron grimaces. "Told you not to call me that... Got enough folks thinking we're related as is."
"I know," smiles Robbie. "What're you gonna do about it?"
Ron's hands clamp around Robbie's slim hips. And he starts pounding in, grunting along with Robbie's delighted squeals as he pistons in and out of the star's slippery hole.
"Shh, shhhh." He leans close to Robbie, puffing smoke against the back of his neck as he says, "Don't want anyone showin' up early for the party to hear..."
It's times like this, when Robbie's eyes are rolling back in his head from how good Ron's dick is making him feel, that he wishes he could bottle this moment, for safekeeping.
Because he knows full well, given enough time, that Ron's going to go and ruin it.
This time, it's not even that long after the two of them are done. Robbie's swiping another paper towel over the backs of his legs, where the excess of the firehose of cum Ron always lets loose with happened to fall out today.
If Robbie ever raises an eyebrow when Ron makes him clean up afterwards, Ron's quick to shrug and say, "You know I come big." And he really does. It would probably be alarming to anyone else, if Robbie didn't happen to find it endearing to have his hole keep dribbling out little reminders of their time together, throughout the day.
Ron's lighting up the first of many post-coital cigarettes when he gestures at the panties Robbie's pulling back up to waist level. "So, what is it about this stuff that does it for ya?" his producer asks him. "You wanna wear a lady's clothes, or be one?"
Robbie closes his eyes. Breathes out. And doesn't answer him.
You don't GET it, he screams through his smile, from inside his head. NOBODY EVER gets it.
He runs a hand down along the sharp jut of his hips on one side, feeling the silky fabric of the underwear-- still slightly cool on his body, somehow. Slides his fingertips gently over the bulge at his crotch.
His hand slips under the fabric, smoothing over the curly hairs on his ballsack. Right where he knows, somehow, the wrinkled folds of his entrance that's not there are supposed to be. Knows it like he knows there's bones, muscles, under his skin.
Robbie doesn't want to be a woman.
In this industry? It's been hard enough for his producer to get, and keep, Robbie's prime time weeknight slot, what with the star's not-very-well-hidden secret of being a homosexual. If Ron didn't negotiate like a barracuda in the board rooms, Robbie knows he'd be the first one against the wall.
But Robbie knows what he does want is impossible. They lock people away for far less than that.
Hell, if anyone found out about this deal Ron and he have going-- buying his producer's silence by spreading his legs for him, on the side... He's lucky Ron took him up on the offer in the first place.
It makes Robbie sad to think about what he wants, for too long. Much less try to say it to another person, out loud.
So he doesn't.
He just stretches his arms out at his sides, and remarks, "We'd better take off for the party soon, if we want to be fashionably late for this thing."
Ron looks disappointed, but he nods, and drops the question there.
Robbie hugs him tight, before reaching to get his pants back up from the floor. "That's my Big Daddy."
"I swear to Christ I'm gonna punch you out flat if you call me that at the party," growls Ron.
The star titters behind his hand, and sweeps his fingers back to tuck the curls of his fiery red hair back into place. "I know."