Chapter Text
Stone stares down at his bottle of lukewarm beer. Watching condensation bead and leak over the brown glass, dripping slowly down his fingers. Absently, he plays with the oversaturated edge of the paper Budweiser label. Feeling the pulp bunch beneath his fingertips as he slowly peels it from the front of the bottle, dropping bits and pieces of wet paper down onto the table.
Surrounding him, his assigned squad chatters. Not paying him any mind as he sits there in silence. More interested in the beer he isn't even drinking than being social. He's never really been much of a social person, after all.
The only reason he's here is because he's required to build rapport with the group. Sewing seeds of fondness and respect so in any given situation, combat or otherwise, he can rest assured knowing these soldiers will have his back and vice versa.
It's ridiculous and demeaning, but so have most things he's been subjected to in The Army thus far.
He's fresh out of basic and AIT and he's only just been assigned to a unit. Most of the people in the squad are still strangers to him.
"Hey, hey," one of the men next to him—Private First Class Blake, if he remembers correctly—whispers conspiratorially to the group. Elbowing Stone in the ribs to bring him in on the conversation.
Stone gives him an annoyed look, but leans forward nonetheless. Watching as he nods toward one of the corners of the bar, grin splitting across his face. Several sets of eyes follow his projection followed by raised eyebrows and confused glances.
"What exactly are we supposed to be looking at Blaken?" One of the women asks, pursing her lips in annoyance. Smoothing her hand over the crown of her head, flattening down the flyaways in her dark brown hair.
Blaken, Stone thinks, mentally correcting his mistake. Blaken, Blaken, Blaken.
"It's Dr. Robotnik," Blaken answers excitedly. Practically bouncing up and down on his stool.
This time, everyone's heads snap around. Even Stone's.
"I didn't think he ever left his lab," someone whispers, whistling lowly.
"I've never seen him before, I thought he'd already gone back to G.U.N," someone else says.
"G.U.N?" another person asks, earning them multiple scoffs from the group.
Stone hears most people turn their attention back to the table at that, but he's still trying to find Dr. Robotnik in the crowd. There's too many people in here for him to see clearly enough.
"Christ alive. Don't you know anything, Milton?" Blaken asks, annoyed. "G.U.N is the Guardian Unit of Nations. Super secret, planetary defence stuff. Like space force if it wasn't entirely useless. Dr. Robotnik is their lead scientist. Some sort of crazy physics genius or something."
"Robotics," Stone corrects, finally turning back to the group, giving up on trying to find Dr. Robotnik in the crowd.
"Hm?" Blaken asks, turning his attention to Stone for the second time that evening. Everyone else's eyes follow.
"His specialty is robotics," Stone answers, voice clear and loud as he explains. "He's both G.U.N's top robotics expert and, last I checked, the foremost authority on robotics on the planet."
"Could've sworn I heard physics," Blaken says, shrugging. "Whatever, apparently he's a massive jackass. Hates people. Prefers to hurl insults rather than have a conversation. He's even been reprimanded for physically assaulting his lab assistants. Never expected to see him anywhere outside of the base. Let alone at one of the more popular bars in Five Points."
"Why do you suppose he's here?" one of the women asks—Specialist Wendle, he thinks—playing with the long black braid that hangs over her shoulder. A seemingly nervous tick he's shocked she didn't grow out of in basic.
"Dunno," Blaken answers, turning over his shoulder to regard Dr. Robotnik again. Lips pursing as if deep in thought before a slow, mischievous grin spreads over this lips, "one of us should go talk to him."
Silence falls over the table and Stone chances another look in Dr. Robotnik's direction. This time, his eyes find him easily, stomach somersaulting with nervous anticipation as his gaze moves languidly over his form. Tracing the outline of his profile. Strong brow, strong nose, a ridiculous cartoon villainesque moustache.
He's more attractive than he expected. Especially considering most of the pictures he's seen of him have been nothing short of menacing.
Here, in this bar, though, he looks sort of sweet. His demeanour is softer, maybe a little bit sad.
"Absolutely not," Specialist Wendle says and the table explodes into a cacophony of voices around him. Drawing Stone's attention away from Robotnik and back to his colleagues. "Do you have a death wish Blaken? That man could ruin any of our careers without a second thought. He's un-fucking-touchable. Literally G.U.N's darling."
"I heard he murdered one of the Sergeants for daring to step foot inside of his lab," a well-built slightly older black man, Private Lassen, interjects with a grimace, voice low as he relays the story. "Just straight up. In cold blood. And they didn't do shit."
"You're insane," Wendle laughs, "that didn't happen. That's not real."
"No, I heard something like that," the brunette woman, whose name Stone still can't recall, says. "Like, my first week on base. I overheard some people talking about it. He's unhinged. Everyone is just sort of biding their time until he goes crawling back to G.U.N. I don't think anyone can touch him. He's got immunity or something."
"He cannot be that powerful," Wendle argues, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back a little in her chair. "No man is untouchable."
"Only one way to find out," Blaken sing-songs, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "One of us has to go over there. C'mon Wendle, you seem like you'd be his type. Why don't you take a crack at it?"
"The fuck is that supposed to mean, Blaken?" Wendle growls, eyes narrowing.
"Military man over a certain age?" Blaken says, as if the answer is obvious, "reeks of Asian fetish, don't you think?"
Wendle's mouth falls open, eyes going wide in shock before her nostrils flare and shock turns to abject rage. She slams her hand down on the table so hard she sends a collection of empty bottles careening onto the floor.
Luckily, they don't shatter, but the sound is startling enough to send a hush over the entire establishment.
Stone glances in Robotnik's direction, catching his narrowed gaze for a split second before he averts his eyes. Heart stuttering in his chest as he whips his head back around to his table. He clenches his eyes shut for a second, taking in a shaky breath.
"You—" Wendle starts, voice rising, filled with vitriol.
Stone blows out an irritated breath.
"Enough," he says, voice low, but firm. Drawing the attention of everyone from the table. He's probably the youngest there, but he's under no qualms that they aren't aware of his accolades. Or his ruthlessness. "Knock it off, Wendle, you're making a scene."
"But he—"
"I'll go," Stone interrupts, cutting off Wendle for a second time. Turning to glower at Blaken. "You want someone to talk to him so bad you're gonna be a racist jackass about it? Fine. I'll go."
"Hey, man, I'm not racist," Blaken argues, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I think it's a little racist of you to think that. All I'm saying is, he's a white man of a certain age that's been in the military for a long time. All those old fogeys have some type of Asian fetish. That's all. I don't think you'd really be his type."
Stone rolls his eyes, sharing a look with Wendle where she sits catywampus from him and then with Lassen sitting at the end of the table.
"Man, he's Asian," Lassen says, "by your logic he should be exactly Robotnik's type."
"What, really?" Blaken asks, turning his whole body to look at Stone, eyebrows raised in surprise. Gaze roaming over his face. "But you don't look Asian."
"And you're proving his point," Wendle sighs, picking up her beer and tipping her head back to drain it. "Fuckin' racist."
"What exactly is an Asian Person supposed to look like then, Blaken?" Lassen asks, driving the point home. Putting Blaken on full blast.
Blaken makes an aborted sound, gesturing vaguely.
"I don't know. Like Wendle. Or maybe Chabra—" he pauses here to gesture to the only Indian at the table, a man a few years older than Stone who looks beyond annoyed to be brought into this. Stone doesn't blame him one bit. "I thought Stone was Muslim or something."
There's a collective groan and eye roll from every nonwhite person seated with the squad. Followed by most of them and even a few of the more educated white people picking up their drinks and take a long sip. Avoiding Blaken's look of surprise.
At this point, Stone is actively trying to not cause a scene himself. He gets why Wendle was ready and willing to start something with him now.
"Islam is a religion, not a race," Chabra snaps, taking a pointed sip of his glass of sparkling water with lime. "Stone is Lebanese."
Blaken blinks in confusion, obviously not used to being dressed down so thoroughly by his comrades. Probably used to being surrounded with more, for lack of a better term, like-minded people. Willing to let his bias and ignorance fester.
Stone feels an odd sense of pride that his squad won't stand for that.
"I thought Stone liked men," Blaken says and it's at this point exactly where Stone decides that he's had enough.
He slams his hand down on the table. Softer than when Wendle did it, but no less forceful. It's more to shut Blaken up than anything else.
The way he flinches next to Stone is just a bonus.
"I'm going over there," Stone announces. He can't stand to spend another second at this table, honestly. As proud as he is that his group stood up for him, the conversation just isn't interesting. He's been sitting here bored for almost the entire time.
At least this is something interesting.
"You don't have to, Stone," Wendle says, reaching across the table to wrap her slender fingers around his wrist. Keeping him in place. "I'm sure Blaken was just joking. Weren't you, Blaken?"
"No, I was being absolutely serious," Blaken answers, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, I think it'll be funny. I've never had the privilege of seeing him be an asshole in person and I genuinely don't think he'd kill someone in a public place, but—" he pauses, laughing a little nervously "—I have been wrong before."
Stone rolls his eyes.
"I'll be fine, Wendle," he says with a shrug of his own. "If not me, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Blaken convinces someone to go over there. Few rounds from now it might even be you."
Wendle sighs and releases Stone, letting him step away from the table.
"You're probably right," she murmurs, nervously playing with the end of her braid again before sighing heavily and giving him a mock salute with a simple, "Godspeed, Private."
Stone snorts out a laugh. Giving her a mock salute in return.
"I'm sure I'll be right back."
The walk to Robotnik's table is both too long and not nearly long enough. Stone has no idea what he's even supposed to say once he gets there. Everything he has planned in his head sounds juvenile and idiotic.
He has no idea how he's supposed to impress someone like Dr. Robotnik. Or even how to have a conversation with someone whose intellect far surpasses his own.
Especially when that someone is a person he genuinely admires.
"Dr. Robotnik?" Stone asks when he finally reaches his table. Standing awkwardly off to the side, hands behind his back to hide his nervous fidgeting. Heart rate quickening as the doctor raises his head to regard Stone with the utmost disdain.
"Let me guess," Dr. Robotnik says, not bothering to answer Stone's ridiculous question in any capacity. In fact, his gaze moves slowly past Stone and back toward the squad of people who are no doubt watching them. "Someone at that table—" he raises a gloved hand to point menacingly at Stone's group, speaking the next several words in embarrassing baby talk "—twiple dwog dwared you—" his finger moves again, pointing from his teammates to Stone, baby talk disappearing in favor of sounding more pissed off "—to come over here to see if I'd rip you a new one? Some fun light hazing between the new recruits."
"Well—"
"BORING," Dr. Robotnik interrupts, shouting loud enough for several people to turn around and look at them. Earning a few startled laughs from his squad at the table. "There. Looks like you've done what you set out to do. You can go away now."
He flicks his hand at him dismissively.
"Actually, sir," Stone begins, catching the gaze of Dr. Robotnik again a placating smile stretching over his lips, "I volunteered."
Dr. Robotnik's eyes narrow, lips pursing, making his mustache wiggle in response. His eyes glide over Stone's body, slow. From his face, down over his torso, his abdomen, and lower still. Examining his thighs, calves, feet. Then right back up again.
"I find that difficult to believe," the doctor answers, baring his teeth to Stone in a grimace more than a grin, "Nor does it impress me, but it does beg the question, 'why'?"
"It was going to have to be someone, sir," Stone says, politely as he can. "I figured you'd rather it be someone who's at least read your work."
Dr. Robotnik blinks slow, looking utterly disinterested as he raises his glass of scotch to his lips and takes a sip. Nose wrinkling in disgust when he swallows it down.
"Let me guess," he drawls, tilting his head to the side to rest his cheek heavily on the back of his hand. Scotch sloshing in the glass he holds precariously. "You've read a few dumb-dumbed down Army dossiers and you think you that makes you an expert in my field—" he yawns loudly as if to punctuate his point, rolling his eyes at Stone to let him know exactly what he thinks of him "—boring."
"No, sir," Stone says, voice even as he gently corrects him. He doesn't bother asking how Dr. Robotnik knows he's a soldier. It would be stupid to waste time calling into question the deductive reasoning of a literal genius, after all. "Currently I'm enrolled in the robotics program at Georgia Tech. Your papers on behavior-based formation control and motion and force control have come up a few times. I'm sure you know this, sir, but they're among one of the most cit—"
"Doctor," Dr. Robotnik interrupts.
Stone falters, mouth clicking shut audibly as he tries to piece together the reason for the interruption.
"I'm sorry?" he asks when Robotnik doesn't provide one.
"It's Doctor, not 'sir' or 'Robotnik' or 'Eggman' whatever else you imbeciles like to call me behind my back. Address me right or don't address me at all," he answers with a huff, setting his scotch glass down hard on the smooth varnished wood of the table.
"Of course, Doctor," Stone amends immediately, nodding his head in understanding.
Dr. Robotnik hums, lips pursing as he looks Stone up and down.
"Georgia Tech, hm?" he asks suddenly, leaning forward a bit across the table, smirk curling at the edges of his lips, "couldn't hack it at Carnegie Mellon? Or at the very least, MIT?"
"I don't like the cold, Doctor," Stone answers simply, emphasizing the title once more. Weighing it on his tongue.
There's a beat.
A moment of tense silence where Dr. Robotnik rests his chin in his palm, watching Stone with an unreadable expression, his tongue gliding slowly over his teeth.
"Funny," he says, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he kicks out the chair opposite him at the table and nods toward it; commanding, "sit."
Then, with a slow, sinistrous grin, directed more at his squadron than at him;
"Let me buy you a drink."
"I'm underage," Stone answers.
He isn't sure why he says it. After all, he'd just been nursing a lukewarm beer at the other table, but part of him wants to see how Dr. Robotnik will react. He knows he looks young, but it's easy to pass him off as at least twenty-one if he's here in a bar. The backs of his hands devoid of X's from the person checking IDs out front.
Dr. Robotnik clicks his tongue and drags his eyes over Stone again, paying close attention to his hands. Eyebrow arching. As if he's trying to decide something.
"Eighteen?" he asks, gaze moving from Stone's hands and back to his face.
"Nineteen," Stone corrects.
Robotnik releases a puff of air through his nose, followed by a put-out sigh.
"Old enough," he says in a way that sounds he isn't entirely speaking about alcohol. Still, he stands up from the table and makes his way to the bar. Leaving Stone still standing next to the dispensed chair. Eyeing the warped wood.
It doesn't match the same rich lacquer of the table. The wood is lighter, less corpus, cheaper looking. Yet, no less inviting.
Once Dr. Robotnik is out of view, Stone chances a glance at his squad. They're all watching him with owlish eyes, slack-jawed and shocked. As if they never expected him to get this far.
If he's being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd make it this far either. He knows Dr. Robotnik's reputation. He's heard about his temper and been privy to the innumerous stories about his insubordination and violence. Robotnik is a one-in-a-lifetime genius, sure, but he isn't well liked.
In fact, from what he's garnered, most people would go so far as to describe him as a monster.
From this brief interaction, Stone wouldn't exactly say that. He's rude, abrasive, maybe a little off-putting, but a monster? He'll need more evidence to prove that particular claim.
Evidence he's not sure he wants. If the shocked, turned dismayed looks of his squad is anything to go by. Maybe he should cut his losses here and make his way back to base. Or at the very least, the next bar.
It would be smarter than sticking around.
Stone likes to think he does have some semblance of intelligence and self-preservation.
Though he wouldn't know it from the way he's behaving.
With one last glance at his crew, he shoots them a half-hearted salute and a wavering grin. Then he turns and climbs into the chair, resting his elbows on the table and gazing at the wall Dr. Robotnik disappeared behind.
Distantly, he's aware his colleagues are getting rowdier now. Their loud, booming, 'Ooooh!'s and hands beating loudly against the table rattle in his eardrums. Spiking his heart rate and making embarrassment curdle in his gut.
He hopes Dr. Robotnik won't penalize him for their unruly behavior.
When Robotnik reemerges, he's carrying another double of whiskey for himself and a pink drink with an obnoxious amount of cherries for Stone.
"A Shirley temple?" Stone asks when Robotnik takes his seat. Stretching his legs out underneath the table.
"A dirty Shirley, actually," Robotnik corrects, leaning back a little in his seat to take a long pull from his whiskey glass. "It felt apt."
"Oh?" Stone asks, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table so he can steeple his fingers under his chin. "What about this interaction screams dirty to you, doctor?"
Robotnik snorts. Rolling his eyes and muttering "Jesus Christ" under his breath.
Stone sighs, guessing his attempt at making things light and maybe even a little flirty didn't land. Robotnik is a man twenty years his senior, after all. What could he possibly want from someone as young and inexperienced as Stone?
Across the table, Robotnik watches him. Taking another sip of his drink before slowly setting it down next to his.
"As much as you want to pretend it was your choice to wander over here. You have to see how they sent you to me like a lamb to slaughter," Dr. Robotnik says and Stone nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels the doctor's shoe brush against his shin, smooth leather tracing the length of his calf. All the way up to his knee and back down again.
He plucks a cherry from Stone's still untouched drink, popping the fruit into his mouth and separating it from the stem with a wet pop. Regarding Stone with an amused look on his face, foot hooking behind Stone's knee and resting there. The toe of his shoe pressing into the meat of his thigh.
"That's a smidge rude of them, don't you think?" Dr. Robotnik asks, placing a second cherry on his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Snapping the stem free with his teeth and letting it drop to the table.
Stone can't really focus on what he's saying. Arousal pools between his legs, every inch of his body standing at high alert. He can feel the way his nipples harden into stiff peaks, brushing against the thin fabric of his mossy green t-shirt. He doesn't think he's ever been so turned on in his life.
There's a certain power in attracting the attention of the powerful, he thinks.
He wonders what it is about him that Dr. Robotnik finds so alluring. Stone isn't really anything special. Maybe a bit smarter than average, but nothing compared to the intellect of someone like him.
Stone isn't even sure he can hold his own in this conversation. When, for all intents and purposes, he should know how to navigate this. It's just flirting. Simple, basic, human. But, for some reason, even something as easy as this makes him feel out of his depth.
"What's the matter, solider?" Dr. Robotnik asks, resting his chin on his hand and gazing at him from across the table. Brown eyes dark and glittering in the dim light. He's beginning to sound a little bored. "Cat got your tongue?"
He reaches for another cherry and Stone stops him. Placing his hand palm down over the mouth of the glass. Earning himself a curious glance and raised eyebrows. Dr. Robotnik's interest piqued again.
"I'm starting to think you didn't get this drink for me at all," Stone comments, moving his hand and turning his wrist so he can grab Dr. Robotnik's whiskey glass and drag it slowly across the table. Making eye contact with him as he lifts the cup to his mouth and fits it over the imprint of the doctor's lips on the rim. Pressing his tongue to it lightly as he tips the glass upward. The ghost of an indirect kiss.
Three drinks in, vodka sharp and heady on his tongue, it starts in the bathroom. Stone has lost track of where his squad went, inhibitions, and lips loosened by liquor. The world goes hazy on its axis, everything around him moving like its standing in water.
He giggles, high, and sharp and boyish, when Robotnik's moustache tickles the skin of his neck. Mouth peppering kisses over his throat. Quick and playful as he holds the back of Stone's neck. Squeezing it gently in his palm.
He has him pinned against the sink. The mirror at his back, the large graffiti covered wall in full view. Most of the text swims and twists within his vision, but one phrase stands out to him. Written on jungle green paint in gold sharpie, sparkling in the florescent lights.
It reads: Bad Wolf.
He wonders what it's in reference to.
Perhaps it's a nod to the beasts that lurk in the night.
"Everybody says you're a monster," Stone laughs, turning his head to nuzzle at Robotnik's cheek, "but you're not, are you? You're fun. A lot more fun than people give you credit for."
This time it's Robotnik's turn to laugh, kisses turning to sharp nips of his teeth against Stone's skin.
"I'm afraid they were right when they labelled me a monster," Dr. Robotnik says, grabbing Stone's hips and turning him around. Pinning him against the sink with his hips. He motions to the long mirror at the back of the sink, "Look there. Tell me what you see."
"I don't want to look," Stone says, eyes slipping closed.
"Afraid of what you'll see?" Robotnik asks.
Stone let's out a shaky breath, pushing back on Robotnik's hips to give himself some room. He twists in his arms, arms wrapping around his shoulders and tugging him close. Pressing his lips against Robotnik's ear.
"Don't make me," Stone commands, voice whisper soft and as sultry as he can make it. "I'll let you take me home. Let you do whatever you want to me. Just don't make me look."
"See," Robotnik starts, hands finding their home on Stone's hips, bottom teeth dragging along his cheekbone. Just beneath his eye. "This is how you know I'm a monster."
He grips Stone's chin, wrenching his face away from his ear with enough force to startle his eyes open. Stone's breath releasing in a harsh exhale.
"Because I'm going to indulge you, Stone," Robotnik says, dipping his head to press a soft, chaste kiss against Stone's mouth. "Instead of doing the responsible thing. I'm going to take you back to my house and I am going to fuck you until you can't breathe."
Robotnik lowers his hand from Stone's chin, circling his throat and squeezing for emphasis. Sending shivers down Stone's spine.
"I'll show you just how much of a monster I can be."
"Please," is all Stone whispers back in response.
The way to Robotnik's house is a blur. Stone doesn't really know how they got here. One second they're in Five Points, the next they're back on base in the blink of an eye. He thinks maybe they must have taken an Uber because they're both too drunk to drive, but he doesn't remember any of the waiting or the awkward conversation.
All he remembers is the spiced scent of Robotnik's aftershave. The feeling of his body pressed close, the rise, and fall of his chest.
They're kissing or they've been kissing. Stone isn't sure. Everything feels hazy. Impermanent.
His hands are pinned on either side of his head, lips parted as he takes Robotnik's tongue into his mouth. Feeling the wet glide of him just behind his teeth. Arousal a sharp and potent throbbing between his legs.
There are sounds, noises. Needy moans, sharp breaths, the rustle of clothing.
His fingers fumble, freed somehow, though he doesn't quite remember when that happened. There's fabric and fabric and fabric. Cool and soft and smooth as he tries to get his hands on skin when he isn't quite present enough to understand the logistics of removing something.
"Help me," Stone begs and his words are garbled, slurred, hands hitting uselessly at Robotnik's still-clothed chest.
He doesn't think he's ever been this drunk before, but he can't quite remember if that's true.
Stone feels more than hears the deep rumble of laughter in Robotnik's chest. The gentle press of lips against his throat, right over his pulse point. It's tender and loving and it feels—
"Here," Robotnik says, grabbing Stone's hands and shoving them up under his sweater. Letting him touch the smooth skin of his hips. Then higher, up over his rib cage and down again. Dragging Stone's ephemeral focus to a singular point; the way Robotnik's body feels beneath his hands.
Stone moans, body pitching forward so he can crush their mouths together again. Robotnik's teeth knocking into his with a soft sound of surprise.
Then everything is frenzied again. Fast as Stone practically rips his sweater free, mussing his moustache and hair even more than it already is. From how much his fingers have been grabbing and pulling and raking their way through.
He feels half out of his mind. Heart pounding so hard he can feel his pulse jumping against the surface of his skin.
"You're nicer than I thought you'd be," Stone whispers into Robotnik's mouth when he pins him down to the bed. Legs spreading between his thighs, pushing them open. The fabric of his boxers pulling taut across his hips. Seam tracing just there at his centre, but not quite enough to alleviate the mounting tension.
He rocks his hips upward, trying to grind against the doctor's groin. Groaning when Robotnik presses his hips down hard into the bed. Whole body sinking from the pressure. The throbbing ache between his legs almost palpable.
"You're too young now to know what I'm doing isn't nice," Robotnik says, pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth and tugging on the chain of his dog tags. Pulling until the metal bites into his skin, taut against his throat. "When you're my age you'll understand better why a momentary stay of cruelty in situations like this isn't necessarily nice and it definitely isn't kind."
Stone is panting now. The pull of his dog tags isn't necessarily cutting off his airway, but it doesn't have to. There's enough vasculature in his neck that even slightly restricting that flow can start to cut off oxygen to his brain.
"There's a fairy tale like this," Robotnik says, releasing the chain for a moment and letting it settle back against Stone's chest so he can readjust. Moving himself to kneel between Stone's legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down slowly. "The old witch that lives in the woods. Luring children with her house made of candy. Fattening them up with the sole purpose of devouring them."
"Hansel and Gretel?" Stone asks, lifting his hips when his boxers catch beneath the swell of his ass. Then raising his legs so Robotnik can easily pull them down his thighs. Stomach twisting with nerves as he waits. Writhing when cool air begins to rush over his fevered skin. Chilling the slickness on his thighs to an almost uncomfortable degree. "Wouldn't Little Red Riding Hood be more apt?"
"You still have time to outwit me before you're devoured," Robotnik answers smirking down at him and hooking his legs over his shoulders before making a show of removing his gloves. The pale skin of his hands bright in the darkness of the room drawing Stone's attention as one slips down between them, pressing against—
"Oh," he says in surprise, hand stilling, almost recoiling when his fingers sink instead of brush. Meeting slick wetness instead of dry skin.
Stone bites his lip, heart hammering against his ribs as he tries to take in Robotnik's face. It's hard to see in the dim light, but he can tell his brow is furrowed, his eyes zeroed in on Stone's genitals. Usually he would've said something before now. Would've eased his partner into it, but—
Robotnik releases a breath through his nose, shaking his head as it to free himself from his own thoughts. He meets Stone's gaze, the whites of his eyes flashing in the lights of the base outside his bedroom window.
"It isn't often I'm surprised," Robotnik says, a slow smile stretching over his lips, hands moving to grab behind Stone's knees. Spreading his legs apart. Gaze moving from Stone's face and back down again. "This does significantly alter my strategy—" he makes a strange buzzing sound, body bending at the waist a bit robotically, making Stone's brow crinkle in confusion, head tilting to the side as he watches him go—"but that's never stopped me before—" he grabs Stone's thighs, hiking them up until he's almost bent in half, face lowering down until he can feel his breath against his cunt— "and it won't stop me now."
When Robotnik's tongue touches his cunt, Stone feels his entire body go boneless. Head dropping to the mattress with a heavy thump. A long drawn out moan tearing free from his throat.
He's so disgustingly turned on that even this feels like reaching Heaven's Gates.
"You're so wet," Robotnik says, voice even, devoid of the usual breathiness people exhibit when saying that line. As if he's making some sort of scientific observation and not providing sexual accolades. "How long have you been on T?"
"Can we talk about this later?" Stone asks, gritting his teeth and staring up at the ceiling. "If you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of something."
"If you'd told me beforehand my curiosity would have been sated," Robotnik says, tongue diving back in. Lapping at his entrance before it wiggles up between his labia. Stopping just short of his engorged clit. He can only imagine what it looks like right now. Fat and red and angry. "And we wouldn't be in this situation."
Stone groans, teeth grinding against one another. Hips jerking upward, trying to chase Robotnik's mouth. He's so close that Stone can feel his breathing, but every time he moves, it's like Robotnik jerks farther away. It's both playful and maddening.
"Tell me what I want to know and I'll be more inclined to give in to your whims," Robotnik says.
"You're the one who started eating me out, doctor," Stone snaps. "If this is anyone's whim, it isn't mine."
"I think you've gotten a bit too comfortable in the way you address me," Robotnik hums, rising back up onto his knees and closing Stone's legs. "I've indulged you with sweetness long enough."
Stone snorts, raising his head to meet Robotnik's gaze, thighs clenching together to provide much needed relief between his legs.
"What big ears you have, doctor," Stone teases, yelping when Robotnik grabs his hips and flips him over onto his stomach. It's more of a forceful roll than an actual flipping of his body, but it sends tingles down his spine nonetheless. He hadn't expected Robotnik of all people to be that strong.
"Your candour is noted, but unwelcome," Robotnik responds, hand coming down to slap against the bare skin of Stone's ass.
It's so sudden, so unexpected, Stone nearly shrieks in surprise. Thighs squeezing together again, pressing against his cunt. He shudders, pressing his cheek against the cool fabric of the sheets. Eyes closing as the fight goes out of him. He doesn't have it in him to argue or push anymore. He was barely hanging on by a thread to begin with.
He's so turned on it hurts. He can feel his pulse fluttering in his cunt, making his eyes clench shut tight from discomfort. The slickness of his arousal is genuinely, genuinely starting to make him feel like he's wet himself. He needs something to happen or he feels like he'll go insane.
"What happened to your mouthy commentary?" Robotnik asks, sliding his legs open again. Removing the pressure of his thighs and exposing his cunt to the cold air. "Tired of being a brat already?"
"I'm being practical," Stone answers, jerking, and shivering when Robotnik traces his bare fingertips up his spine. Paying special attention to the curve at the small of his back. Pressing the pads of his fingers down slightly. He presses his face into the mattress, moaning into the sheets. "I'm tired of playing around. I want you to give me what I want."
"Last I checked, this isn't about what you want," Robotnik growls, shifting on the bed behind him. Stretching his body across Stone's back, the bare skin of his abdomen and chest sliding over his ass and shoulder blades. Until he's fully engulfed by him. "We're playing by my rules."
Stone hums, twisting his head to the side so he can catch Robotnik's gaze out of the corner of his eye.
"What an overinflated sense of ego you have, doctor," he purrs, driving his reference home just enough without being heavy-handed.
Robotnik laughs, leaning down to nip Stone's cheek. Hand wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again and tugging.
"All the better to eat you with, my dear."
He pulls the chain taut around Stone's neck. Fingers brushing over his skin. Sending delighted shivers down his spine.
From this angle it feels even more constraining than when he was on his back. It isn't cutting off his airway—the chain would snap before it could choke him—but it's starting to make him feel warm and dizzy. Vision swimming and blurring on the edges. Completely at Robotnik's mercy.
Stone relaxes into it, focusing on his breath and the touch of Robotnik's skin against his. It's astounding to him how much warmth can emanate from a person considered to be so cold. He's gentle in his sadism. Letting Stone feel him all throughout the process of cutting off his airway. Pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck and down across his shoulders, teeth oft scraping against his skin as a reminder of his cruel disposition.
Though, as often as Robotnik tries to hurt, Stone still has a difficult time thinking of him as a monster. In his mind, he's almost sweet. As if he were the lamb sent to slaughter and Stone the wolf waiting in the shadows. Though their positions in this bed would imply the opposite.
"It takes fifteen to thirty pounds of pressure to snap this chain," Robotnik whispers against his ear, pulling just a little bit tighter, "Roughly four-point-pour for me to pull tight enough to cause a venous outflow obstruction to your jugular. Eleven to make you start losing consciousness from the pressure on your carotid."
Stone shivers, grinding his hips downward onto the mattress. Trying to relieve some of the fevered lust that simmers beneath his skin. The sheets bunch up and rub against him and he can't help the breathy moan that escapes his lips.
"So impatient," Robotnik tuts, pulling the chain just a little bit tighter. Stone almost expects to feel it give, but it doesn't quite yet. It holds fast, tiny metal balls pressing close, leaving indentations into his skin. "It's like you want me to punish you."
Robotnik whistles, quick, and sharp. Startling Stone and making him jump. His hands are halfway to covering his ears when there's a crawling feeling up the back of his neck. Like something cold slithering over his skin.
His instinct is to claw it free, but Robotnik leans over him, releasing his dog tags in favour of pinning his hands to the mattress.
"Don't you dare," he says into Stone's ear.
"What did you do?" Stone asks in response. Fear simmers low in his gut. The first time he's felt remotely afraid since their encounter began. Even with his ephemeral memory and the alcohol in his system throwing him topsy-turvy.
This feels more like he's entering something uncharted. Like he's found himself face-to-face with a venomous snake and he's run out of charm to keep himself from being stung.
"Relax," Robotnik commands, pressing a kiss to Stone's shoulder before releasing his wrists and letting him touch his throat. Feeling his skin for the cold weight that still lingers.
There's nothing there. Only the chain around his neck.
"I'm using nano tech to bolster the strength of your chain," Robotnik explains, tracing his finger along the length of it fondly.
Stone shivers when he feels something spread and crawl against his skin beneath Robotnik's touch. It isn't a pleasant feeling and his explanation does little to quell the fear invading his senses.
"Wouldn't want it to snap before we get to the good part," Robotnik continues, rising up on his knees so he can spread his legs over Stone's ass. Resting on top of him to pin him down against the bed beneath his body. Erect cock pressing insistently against his lower back, ball sack flush against the curve of his ass.
"Pretty sure these chains are supposed to break to prevent strangulation," Stone says, trying to twist so he can look at Robotnik again. It's difficult to move with this much of the older man's weight on him. Pressing him down until every inch of him is flush with the sheets.
"Is that what you're so afraid of?" Robotnik asks, his voice a low, amused rumble. Two of his fingers pressing against the side of Stone's neck, checking his pulse. Feeling it jump wildly beneath his fingertips. "That I took you all the way back to my temporary home on this God-forsaken military base to kill you?"
It sounds ridiculous when he says it out loud.
"In my defence, you did liken yourself to a witch who lures children back to her house to eat them," Stone answers.
Robotnik guffaws, whole body shaking with laughter. Shaking Stone's body beneath him.
"I was referring to sucking cock," Robotnik explains, twisting a little at the waist to lean back, fingers slotting between Stone's legs and tracing the outline of his cunt. "Though I suppose I don't blame you for not picking up on the metaphor. Considering."
Stone's breath hitches, legs spreading a little to give Robotnik more room to touch. To explore. His cunt is practically throbbing with want at this point. It really wouldn't take much to send him over the edge.
"Please," he whines, high-pitched and needy as Robotnik strokes him. Touching everywhere but the single place Stone needs his fingers to be.
"It's nice of you to beg," Robotnik coos, "but I'm not satisfied just yet. I don't want to just give it to you. I still have more I want to do."
As if punctuating his words, Robotnik grabs Stone's dog tags once more, pulling them taut. Twisting the chain until it only just begins to pinch at the edges, sharp, and bright against his skin.
"Can you cum from vaginal play?" Robotnik asks, sinking two of his fingers inside of Stone without waiting for the answer. Followed by a throaty chuckle when Stone's whole body shivers and bucks. A shuddering sigh escaping his lungs.
He tries to rock his hips downward into Robotnik's hand. To rub himself against the bunched up sheets. Anything to get some friction. To lessen the ache. But Robotnik's weight prevents him from moving. He's helplessly pinned. His only stimulation the agonizingly slow drag of Robotnik's fingers in and out of his cunt and the pinch of his chain around his throat.
"Please," Stone begs again, emotion welling in his chest. Tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. "Please, Doctor. I can't cum like this."
"How unfortunate for you," Robotnik hums, fingers curling inside of Stone's cunt, pressing deep inside of him.
He makes a gurgling sound, head tipping back. The chain around his neck slacking for only a moment before Robotnik is grabbing it harder, choking him with much more force.
Stone's words die in his throat. Speaking becoming impossible from the way his body is stretched. It takes everything in him not to pass out. From the force the chain around his neck and the feeling of Robotnik's fingers twisting, curling, scissoring, his thoughts fade to static.
Sensation overtaking him. Knot coiling at the base of his spine and twisting every single one of his muscles up with it. He can feel his entire body begin to tremble from the force of it. Every muscle taut. Lungs burning. Throat raw.
It feels like every inch of him is going to shatter.
"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh—" He repeats, words strained and garbled. Tongue thick in his mouth. There's a pressure low in his stomach, like an itch that's so close to being scratched with every quirk of Robotnik's fingers.
"Deeper, deeper," Stone begs. He sounds half out of his mind, every word sharp like a knife as it pushes free of his esophagus. All semblance of rational thought giving way to lust. Desperately chasing release. "Doctor, please."
Robotnik clicks his tongue, fingers slipping deeper, curling just right in a way that makes Stone's entire body arch. Bucking up with a guttural sound. Nearly throwing Robotnik off of him and onto the floor.
"Yes," Stone moans, babbling incoherently. Words long, drawn out, and mangled. "There, right there. Oh, God."
His orgasm hits him like a hammer. Shattering the tension in his body like glass.
Stone screams, voice echoing off the walls as his cunt squeezes violently around Robotnik's fingers. Pulsing in a way that's altogether different than he's used to. Vaginal walls practically throbbing as he oozes arousal fluid over Robotnik's fingers and down into the sheets.
He could practically sob from relief, but it isn't quite enough.
He needs more.
"Don't stop," Stone gasps when he feels Robotnik's fingers slow. Feels his grip on the dog tags begin to slacken. "Don't stop."
"You poor thing," Robotnik coos, tone mocking and not at all apologetic. "All worked up."
He releases the chain, letting Stone's head fall forward with a heavy thud. Then he pulls his fingers free, wiping Stone's slickness down his thigh.
"You're forgetting I don't take orders from you, soldier," Robotnik growls. "You're here to serve at my pleasure. Not the other way around."
"Then fuck me, you insufferable old man," Stone snaps, clawing at the mattress until he can pull himself free from beneath Robotnik. Pushing himself up to his knees, and twisting to lay on his back. Spreading his legs open wide and drawing the doctor's gaze down to his glistening cunt.
"You want your pleasure?" Stone asks, motioning to his spread legs as he leans forward into Robotnik's space, breath hot across his lips as he whispers, "then take it."
Robotnik chuckles. Slow and sinister, hand coming up to grab Stone's throat and push him down hard. Until he's pinned on his back, gazing up at the doctor in surprise.
"I don't take pleasure in getting off," Robotnik tells him, putting more of his weight on Stone's throat as he crawls forward. Positioning himself between his legs, his hard cock resting against Stone's thigh. Letting him feel the way it jumps in time with Stone's labored breathing.
"I like the way you sound when I hurt you," Robotnik continues, voice dropping into a whisper. Body leaning over Stone's as he leads his cock to his entrance, teasing the swollen, fevered skin with the head of his unwrapped length. "I like when you beg for it."
"Please, please," Stone chokes out, hips rising to try and push Robotnik inside. To feel the pressure of his cock splitting him open. "Please, Doctor, please."
Robotnik laughs, eyes fluttering closed as he holds Stone down. Keeping him from pushing further, the head of his cock still waiting there in his folds. Barely going further than to press above his opening.
"What a pretty little whore you make," he says, pushing himself up on his knees and moving forward until his face is inches away from Stone's. The hand around his throat squeezing until he begins to make desperate choking sounds and fight against the hold, eyes rolling back in his head. Legs kicking against the mattress.
"Have some self-respect," Robotnik breathes, releasing his throat and gripping his jaw, forcing his mouth open to accept his tongue as it dips inside. Tracing over the back of his teeth and over the roof of his mouth before exploring deeper. Licking over Stone's own tongue before tasting his molars and lingering in the back of his throat until it makes him gag from the intrusion.
His fingers find his way to Stone's cunt once more, circling his opening. Dragging through the thick slickness that no doubt bathes every inch of him now. Cold and sticky and disgusting.
"You want me to fuck you when you're such a filthy mess," Robotnik growls against Stone's mouth, dragging his fingers flat over his cunt to gather the wetness on his skin before raising his hand higher to paint it over his nipples. Teasing them with his own arousal until he's bucking and writhing beneath Robotnik's touch.
"Please," Stone breathes, nose burning as tears form on his lashline. He's so worked up it hurts. Cunt swollen and spasming, throbbing every time Robotnik reaches down to gather more of his cyprine to paint across his skin. Teasing his throat, his chest, his nipples, his bellybutton with the coldness of his cum.
"I can't fuck you when you're filthy, Stone. It's like a slip-and-slide in here. Zero friction," Robotnik chides, two fingers sinking back inside of him with ease. As if to prove his point.
Stone sighs, exasperated as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. Wincing when it changes the angle of Robotnik's fingers inside of him and he can feel them pressing upward on his bladder.
"Where's the bathroom then?" Stone asks, fixing Robotnik with a glare. Grimacing when his fingers slip free, expecting him to wipe them on his leg, but when he doesn't, Stone continues, "You want me to be clean? Fine. I—"
The doctor cuts him off by shoving his fingers directly into Stone's mouth. Painting his lips and tongue with his fluids. Salty, bitter taste exploding over his taste buds.
Stone's eyes widen, gaze locking with Robotnik's as he stares back. A self-satisfied grin on his face as he wiggles his fingers in Stone's mouth.
"What are you waiting for?" Robotnik teases, raising his other hand to shove Stone's shoulder until he's laying down again. "Start cleaning."
Stone takes a sharp breath through his nose. Back hitting the mattress with a heavy thump. The bed creaks just slightly beneath him, throat gagging and spasming around the sudden intrusion on his tongue.
He makes a soft sound, moaning desperately around Robotnik's fingers when his other hand sinks inside of him whilst he's cleaning the first. Tongue lapping and twisting around his fingers with wild abandon. Heat flushing across his face and chest from the degradation.
"Disgusting," Robotnik hums, but his tone sounds more like fascination than revulsion, fingers slipping free from Stone's mouth and cunt and switching their positions. "You even like when I use you like this, hm? Make you eat your own secretions."
Stone shivers in disgust at the word 'secretions' and it takes everything in him not to gag around Robotnik's fingers whilst he rids them of his cum.
"You keep making a mess," Robotnik complains, pulling his fingers free from Stone's cunt again and wiping them on his stomach. his other hand curling around Stone's jaw and forcefully pulling him upward by his teeth. "At this rate, I'm never going to get to fuck you."
Stone whines, high-pitched and needy around Robotnik's fingers. Teeth sinking down ever so slightly into his knuckles.
Robotnik hisses in warning, his expression turning sharp.
"It would be a mistake for you to bite me, Stone," he warns, voice low and dangerous. "You of all people should know better than to bite the hand that feeds."
Stone snarls, trying to pull his head back. To rid his mouth of Robotnik's touch.
Robotnik holds fast, fingers pressing harder against his tongue. Watching with amusement as Stone tries and fails to shake him free like a dog when pulling back yields no results.
"What's wrong, soldier?" he coos, "cat got your tongue?"
Stone makes a noise, halfway between screaming and growling. Opening his mouth wider, trying to free himself. But Robotnik's hand is curled around his jaw, fingers digging so hard into his tongue it sends sparks of pain through his submandibular duct.
He tries to speak, but his tongue is trapped. Wiggling uselessly beneath Robotnik's hand. Saliva drips down from the edges of his lips, flooding his mouth with opiorphin in a vain attempt to fight the pain.
"You look so helpless like this," Robotnik says, leaning down to lick the saliva that leaks out of the corner of his mouth. Audibly swallowing it next to his ear. "What will you give me if I let you go?"
Stone makes a guttural sound. Braying like some common beast as he tries to tug his head away again. Spit dribbling down onto his next and chest. Making himself even more of a mess than he already is.
Tears stream down his face, throat clicking as he tries to swallow. Though most of his saliva has since exited his mouth and is slowly making its way down his body.
"You really are so pretty to look at," Robotnik says, finally releasing Stone's jaw and leaning back a little on his haunches. Wrapping his spit-soaked hand around his cock and stroking it up and down while he watches Stone's desperately trying to put himself together.
He keeps his eyes on Robotnik the entire time he's choking and coughing and wheezing. Glaring whilst trying to wipe the wetness from his skin with his hand, nose wrinkling at the wet sound of Robotnik jerking off with his saliva.
"You're insane," Stone spits, letting himself fall back against the pillows so he can catch his breath.
Robotnik hums, releasing his cock and leaning over to rummage in the drawer of his nightstand. Pulling out two condoms and setting them on the bed next to his knee.
"And you're still here," he comments, flashing Stone a menacing grin, "so what does that make you?"
Stone chooses to ignoring his goading, eyeing him with what he hopes is an unimpressed expression.
"Two condoms?" he asks, nodding to where the foil wrappers are sinking into the divot Robotnik's knee is leaving in the almost too-plush mattress. "Isn't that a bit presumptuous?"
Robotnik tips his head back and laughs, full-bellied and filled with mirth. He sounds almost jolly.
"I guess we'll see, won't we?" He asks, eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light. In the dark with his features softened, he looks almost devilish. A realization that sends Stone's stomach into somersaults, heart beating just a little bit faster.
There is something so undeniably attractive about a villain.
Robotnik leans forward and grabs him by his ankles, dragging him down the bed until Stone's legs are spread around his thighs. The back of his knee resting on top of the condoms where they lie in wait.
"I didn't expect you to be so strong," Stone laughs awkwardly, trying and failing to hide the fact that his heart is now threatening to beat out of his chest. He's never had a partner do something like this before. Simply move him around because they could. He likes it so much more than he expected to, but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised.
If tonight has taught him anything, he's a glutton for punishment.
He loves to be at someone else's mercy.
"You weigh almost nothing," Robotnik remarks, taking his cock in hand and resting it against Stone's cunt, dragging it slowly through the slickness of his labia. Teasing him open and earning a long, low moan of pleasure from Stone. "It isn't so difficult to throw you around if I so please."
He pushes his hips forward again, letting the head of his cock drag slow and rough over Stone's clitoris. Making his body bow upwards and his hands grab at the sheets.
The feeling isn't a pleasant one, but it isn't entirely unwelcome. The stimulation is delicious, in a way. Almost maddening as Robotnik continues to move. The uncircumcised skin at the head of his cock bunching and dragging against him, creating a confusing sensation somewhere between pleasure and discomfort.
Robotnik uses his free hand to spread Stone wider. Singling his clit out and rutting his cock against it. Dragging it maddeningly soft over and over and over and over again. The warm, velvety skin making Stone's toes curl and his jaw clenched shut.
He's seething against the onslaught, eyes watering a little as he tries to decide if this is something he even likes.
It's starting to make him feel insane.
Like he's simultaneously moving closer to orgasm while also getting dangerously close to pushing Robotnik off of him.
His clit is so sensitive. This almost feels like torture.
"Am I hurting you?" Robotnik asks, tone smooth, but Stone can detect an undercurrent of amusement as he continues to thrust. Fingers moving to spread Stone wider, pulling at his skin to the point of discomfort.
Stone's whole body shudders, eyes clenching shut as tears leak down the sides of his face.
"I don't know," he says in the most whiny overly-pornographic voice he thinks he's ever spoken in. Everything about this is setting his teeth on edge, but it's also kind of working for him.
Or maybe he's just so overstimulated that any sort of attention would work. Up to and including sandpaper, which isn't so far off from the sensation he's experiencing currently.
Robotnik presses harder, quickening his pace. The drag of his cock making Stone wince and whine, body twisting as he tries to close his thighs to get away from the sensation.
"Stop, stop," Stone gasps, breathless. Nearly kicking Robotnik in the face in his haste to roll over on his stomach. He grabs one of the pillows and drags it toward himself, burying his face in the soft cotton fabric, heaving a sigh as he tries not to succumb to emotion. The pillow smells a little musty, sterile. Devoid of Robotnik's spiced aftershave or the fresh scent of his shampoo. As if it hasn't been used in a while. Or ever.
"I'm sorry," Robotnik drawls, not sounding at all sorry, hands finding Stone's hips and yanking him up into a kneeling position. Essentially placing him face down, ass up. "Was I hurting you? You should've said something."
Stone wants to bite him. He wants to turn around and throw him onto the floor and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Turn him into a disgusting bloody mess.
It wouldn't be anything he didn't fucking deserve. For being so goddamn insufferable.
"You're angry," Robotnik continues, tracing his knuckles gently down the skin of Stone's thigh in a placating gesture. "Frustrated."
He moves his hand higher, snaking it around his leg to press against Stone's abdomen. Pushing against it to quell the enraged labour of his breath.
"Did you really come all the way home with me thinking I'd give into your whims?" He asks, moving his hand away and plucking up one of the condoms stuck to Stone's leg. Adhered there by sweat and God knows what other type of fluids.