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"One more."
A groan sneaks out from between his teeth. "I've already come twice."
Chad smooths hot hands down Robert's sides, maybe trying to be soothing, maybe trying to rile him up again. The heat lingers in trails after his palms, sinking in, his scars absorbing it greedily. Beneath, his cracked rib settles down again.
"I think you can do a third," Chad says, worryingly unfazed.
Robert glares up at him. He lifts a leg, intending to shift their weights and flip them both over, but Chad catches his knee with a flash-grin.
"Ah-ah-ah. You're not meant to do anything strenuous, you know?"
"I think the doctors actually count sex in that."
"Psh," Chad goes, scrunching up his face. Those fucking hands slip back up, thumbs splitting off. He hones in on Robert's nipples with firm, rolling presses, fingers curved around the muscle of his torso without much difficulty.
God.
Chad says something else, something about the doctors not knowing just how good he is at injury-safe sex, just absolute cocky bullshit as per usual, but Robert is a little busy to listen. The bastard has slotted their hips together and started rolling.
The head of his cock catches on Robert's hole. Oversensitivity makes him jerk hard, lungs catching.
"Chad," Robert says, trying for scolding. It just kind of comes out breathy.
"What?" Chad says, innocent, doing it again.
Robert wriggles, trying to escape further up the bed. Chad laughs meanly, catching him by the waist and keeping him there with ease. His fingers touch at the small of Robert's back. His cock finds Robert's hole again and lingers this time, adding pressure and pressure and -
"Fuck," Robert chokes out as the tip goes in. His head falls back, hitting the pillows, but Chad's hands around his waist stop him from arching up. "Chad… seriously…"
"If you actually want to stop," is all the bastard says, mouthing at a nipple, "you know what to say." His eyes are searing as he looks up Robert's chest. Searing and amused. "If you don't wanna stop, then shut the fuck up and take it like the bitch you know you are."
He bites down and thrusts home in the same moment. Robert actually whines, unconsciously moving, but very conscious as Chad stops him from moving. His hands are big. His cock feels big too, even after being fucked by it once already and fingered before that. And the heat - the heat in the room is sweltering, both rolling off of Chad in waves and coiling in Robert's gut like a mousetrap about to snap shut.
He's sweating. He feels kind of insane.
"Good boy," Chad purrs, which is how Robert realises he's been tricked out of even protesting the bitch comment. "Look at you. You didn't think you could do another, but you're getting close already, huh? Like you were made for this." He thrusts again, fast and vicious just because he knows it'll make Robert cry out. "Could keep you here forever," he adds, voice a low, honeyed murmur in Robert's ears as his brain melts out. Chad re-angles his hips for one thrust, then two, and then on the third he strikes home; not even grazing or brushing past Robert's prostate, but hitting dead-on and grinding. "Think about it. Just here on my bed, always ready for me, just coming over and over and over…"
Robert makes a broken, animal noise. He can't stop writhing, hands moving from Chad's wrists to his shoulders to the sheets as he moves, restless with pleasure, torn between desperately wanting more and it being all too much.
"I… I can't…"
Chad laughs, a flash of sharp teeth. "Oh, trust me, you can."
The mousetrap tenses. Chad laughs as Robert keens, chest heaving, unable to stop his hips bucking even with the shackles of Chad's hands still wrapped around his waist. Then those hands heat up, hot to hot to oh, fuck, and Robert can only sob raggedly as he comes in pathetic little dribbles all over his own stomach.
Chad swaps his cock for two fingers when Robert twitches with every movement. He can feel tears slipping down to the pillows.
"Aw, baby," Chad coos. "See? You still had something in you."
Robert nods, sniffling.
"Heh," Chad snickers, realising something, "And now you have more in you, because I just came aga-"
"M'god, shut th'fuck up."
"Mm. Not yet." And then the fingers - Chad's fingers, still in him, which Robert hadn't protested yet because he still feels like he's remembering how words work - unerringly find his prostate and piledrive it. "I think you can do just one more, first."
Realisation hits Robert like a sledgehammer. The game Chad is playing. "You weren't kidding," he chokes out, still crying a little, chest lifting as Chad doesn't let up - "You're going to kill me."
Chad laughs. "Not kill you. Just make you come until you pass out." He leans over, still rubbing harshly into Robert's prostate, smiling the whole time like butter wouldn't melt. But also if the butter were also kind of evil. "You told me that sounded hot, before."
"I was - exag-ex- aaah-"
Chad presses harder. Robert loses not just that train of thought, but everything else in his brain as well.
"That's better," Chad says smugly. "Look at you. Nothing in your pretty little head but pleasure. It's fucking hot, Bobert." He shifts down for a kiss Robert is too in-pieces to meet. "I just might do it, you know," he breathes into Robert's mouth. "Keep you forever."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Robert tries to say something - anything - but the words won't even come together in his brain.
"That's it. Just one more." A self-satisfied hum. "And then maybe another."