Chapter Text
"Robert, um, remember, last night—when I—before—" He gulps around his words, and this time, Robert can tell he's truly at a loss. He presses his lips into a thin line; in that moment, a sort of steely determination comes over him, even faded as he is. Robert sits up straighter, opening his mouth to ask—he's not quite sure what, but it doesn't matter; Herman shakes his head. "Fuck it." He leans in, lashes fluttering—
Robert doesn't have the strength to deny him.
Their mouths slot together near-instinctively, and hunger aches inside of Robert's bones, becoming unbearable at Herman's needy whimpers. His skinny fingers clutch at the back of Robert's shirt, pulling him in as closely as possible with his superhuman strength, as though he's feeling a similar sense of desperation. He goes to deepen the kiss, and Robert gasps in surprise as water trickles down his chin. It only feeds his desire, odd as it may be; he relishes in the keening moan he draws from the young hero as he nips at his lower lip. Herm begins to clamber onto Robert's lap, but it's only when he feels the insistent press of a bulge through a wetsuit that the older man regains any sort of clarity.
"—h-hey, kid—" he begins, forcing himself to pull back, "slow down." Herman immediately looks cowed, shrinking back from him. "You're okay," he promises, keeping a loose grip on his wrist. He rubs it gently with his thumb, smearing a bead of water across his skin. "I just—wanna make sure you're not doing this for—getting out of your head reasons. You get me?" Herman swallows, an almost cartoonish noise as he manages to keep down his water; Robert feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. Christ, when did I become such a sap?
"No, I…R-Robert, I—I really like you." His eyes are lidded, a little bloodshot from the smoke, and Robert is positive his quiet voice is more from nerves than a genuine attempt at seduction. He's seduced all the same. "It's not bec—just because of the—the weed, or the…y'know. I w-want this—you. If you would—will—you'll have me?"
Robert is so fucked.
He lunges forward, pulling Herman in. He's too eager—have some dignity—and Herm's nose ends up smushed up against his cheek. Robert snorts, and then he's laughing properly, which makes Herm laugh, too—
But eventually, Herman wraps his hand around the vibrating lines of Robert's neck, thumb grazing his Adam's apple as they both move in again. It's gentler this time, more chaste; Robert wants to give Herman the chance to test the waters. Heh. He snorts again, but miraculously manages to rein himself in, instead merely shivering as a droplet of water chases Herman's thumb down the curve of his carotid artery.
Robert leads just enough so the younger man doesn't feel completely lost. When he feels him begin to press more insistently against his lips, he gladly parts them. A little bit of water trickles into his mouth, but this time, he's expecting it, and swallows again. This time, the whimper becomes a whine.
"You like that, sweetheart?" Robert murmurs. "Want me with the taste of you in my mouth all night?"
Herman outright moans. "All—all night, all d-day." Robert's hips buck at his honesty. "O-oh, Robert, you don't—it's been so long—"
"I got you," Robert promises. "I'll take care of you, Hermy. Anything you want."
"I want—" Herm groans, moving down to nip and suck at Robert's stubbled jaw. Robert doesn't have the foresight—or the strength—to pull away. "Robert, I want—" He thrusts urgently against his stomach before suddenly freezing. "Oh. Oh, you're not—" Herman pulls back, eyes wide and cheeks, flushed pink with excitement, now quickly turning an embarrassed red as he tries to swing his leg back over Robert's. "I'm so—so sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Woah, hey, no, it's alright," Robert assures, skating a hand over his flank like calming a skittish horse. "Nothing for you to apologize for. Just breathe." He waits for Herman to stop pulling back, then continues, "It's the meds. The Big Pharma kind, not the back alley kind. Plus the spine…" He trails off. At Herm's mildly panicked look, he continues. "It's mostly the meds. Anyway. It's not that I'm not into this—I'm very into this—" He grins up at him. "—but if you were looking for me to do the fucking, I'm, uh, afraid you're gonna leave disappointed. Well, hopefully not that disappointed, not if I have anything to say about—"
"You sound like me," Herm murmurs, shy smile growing. "And that's actually great—I mean—great for me—us—what I was hoping—" He hides his face and cuts himself off with a quiet laugh. "I was hoping," he starts again, "that you would let—I could be on top. Maybe. If you wanted." Fuck, Robert may have a hard time getting hard, but his dick desperately wants to prove itself, because he feels a twitch against Herm's ass and a spark of arousal shooting all the way up to his chest.
"You're gonna fucking kill me," Robert grunts, and then he and Herman are kissing again. The young hero learns quickly, as it turns out—or maybe Robert's just too high to care, because Herm's licking into his mouth and whining like he's already got his dick inside of him and Robert has never wanted anything as badly as he wants this, wants this with Herman specifically. Well—maybe needing less money to fix the mech, or getting more time with his dad, or to not have spent his formative years fighting bad guys instead of finishing high school—
And, well. There's a reason he started drinking.
But then Herman's lips are on his jaw again, trailing up to his ear, and Robert's brain fuzzes out pleasantly, blending in with the high. "Will you—will you take your shirt off?" Herm murmurs. "For me?"
Robert makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh. "Ask nicely, Hermy," he manages, hand slipping under Herm's shirt to find the zipper of his suit. "Didn't your grandma raise you with manners?"
"P-please—" Herman pants, breath humid and hips bucking into Robert's bulge (or lack thereof, his brain helpfully provides), "—please don't talk—mention—about my grandma when we're about to—"
"Fair enough," Robert laughs, and kisses him again. "C'mon, just one more please. For me?" he parrots, reveling in the breathy laugh it draws from the man on his lap.
"P-please, Robert?" Herman whimpers. His hips roll again, hard cock dragging against Robert's thigh through layers of neoprene and denim. Robert needs to feel him out of all of it.
"Fuck, okay, yeah," he hastily agrees, pulling back just enough to tug his shirt over his head. Herman can barely separate his lips from Robert's skin for long enough, but despite Waterboy's clinginess and his own desperation, they manage to get both shirts discarded to the side.
"I can—can keep the—not take off my—the suit," Herman offers as he starts unbuttoning his jeans. "It's usually—people like it—it better without pow—all the water."
Robert shakes his head. "Nah, take it all off," he encourages, weed loosening his tongue, or at least making him feel less bad about talking to his coworker like this. He doesn't think about the other people Herm's referring to, however vague. "I wanna see you, Hermy. If you'll let me." Herm whines softly; he swears the faintest clouds of steam come off of Herm's reddened cheeks as Robert reaches forward to rub the outline of his cock through his wetsuit. It jumps under his touch. "Fuck, look at you. Don't you want the suit off, baby? Must be hurting you. Jesus, what happens if you get a boner at work?"
"Try really—very hard to not do—let that happen," Herm replies with a breathless laugh. He stands up to hop out of his jeans, and Robert gets the sense that it's the first time Herman's actually allowed himself to look at his bare chest based on the way his eyes all but bug out. "Oh—oh, wow, Rob—Robert, you're…"
"—still working on getting that superhero physique back? Yeah, it's, uh, getting there," Robert finishes for him, the self-deprecation rolling off his tongue with ease.
"No! No, I meant—you're, well, very—um, attractive?" Herman's hands rest on his waistband, task momentarily forgotten as he scans the exposed torso in front of him in awe. Robert's acutely aware of the freshness of certain cuts over others, and only prays Herm can't tell the difference.
"…Is that a question?" he deadpans.
"No!" Herm insists frantically. "No, you're—" He makes a frustrated little grunt and shoves his pants off, clambering back into Robert's lap and guiding his hand up to the zipper of his suit in lieu of responding. "Robert," he pleads, and Robert's done teasing.
"Alright, alright, I got you," he promises, pulling Herman back down for another kiss as the zipper slips down his torso. "You've waited long enough, sweetheart." Herm shudders against his lips. "You like that? Me calling you sweetheart?"
"Y-yeah," Herm whines, tugging his arms out of his sleeves before wrapping them around the back of Robert's neck. "I like it so—so much, R-Robert, please—" Robert's knuckles brush against Herm's leaking cock through his swim trunks and feels it spurt out another burst of pre-cum.
"Oh, honey, you're soaked," Robert groans.
"S-sor—"
"Don't you dare apologize for that." Robert pulls the zipper further down, feeling his head spin with lust when he realizes that no, it's not trunks—just a tiny little Speedo, no longer able to hold Herman's erect cock as it strains and pulses. Robert's forehead falls against his chest. "You're gonna kill me," he repeats roughly, and begins to kiss across Herman's collarbones, tracing each droplet that falls with his tongue. Herm shivers, but it's not long before he gets impatient again, wriggling in Robert's lap. "Okay, okay. Stand up for me, take it all off," he encourages, pressing one last kiss to the hollow of his neck.
In the dim light, he doesn't immediately notice them. And, in his defense, Herm's cock is more than a little distracting—a solid nine inches, with a slight curve, neatly trimmed auburn hair above—practically staring him in the face. But when he climbs back into his lap and Robert runs his hands over his bare thighs, he feels them. He looks up at Herman, who's already giving him a wobbly smile in return. "I—I heal the—mys—myself. So they don't—infectious. Are worry—bad to get infected. The water." This isn't the time for a lecture, and Robert doesn't particularly feel like being a hypocrite anyway, so he just nods in understanding. Their next kiss is slow, soft, and Robert feels the Thank you against his lips more than he hears it. Instead of replying, he just gently takes one of Herm's wrists, guiding his hand to the very scars he'd hoped to be overlooked just minutes before. Herman makes a wounded noise into Robert's mouth and bucks against his stomach. "R-Rob—"
"Can I touch you?"
"Please." Robert reaches between them and wraps his hand around Herman's weeping cock. They both groan at the slide, easy with the amount of pre-cum drooling from the tip. He's only able to give Herm a few strokes, however, before he's whimpering, pushing Robert's hand back. "S-sorry, I'm sorry, I don't want—before I can, um, be—be in you, and I—I'm exciting—excited."
Robert lets go as soon as he feels Herm's hand on his, but then he takes a shaky, awed breath, licking his lips. "Yep, no, you're good," he pants. "You want me to get myself ready, then? I can do it, I know you're probably not—" Robert isn't sure what, exactly, he's probably not, so he's grateful that Waterboy interrupts him.
"N-no, I would like—would want to do it—prep you—if that was okay? I-I've been told—people have—have said my fingers are—um, good?" Robert has to take another steadying breath before he comes untouched.
"I can't say I doubt that. Bed."
"Huh?"
Robert laughs and leans up to kiss him again, sweetly. "Get on the bed, sweetheart." He pats Herm's ass and watches fondly as he scrambles to the mattress, grateful for the extra few seconds it takes him to get up before Herm notices. He takes his time getting over there, too, but that part he does want Herm to see. Maybe not the limp, the way his knees pop and roll and his feet like to kick and spasm with pain from long-healed injuries, but the way his stocky, callused hands frame the buckle of his belt before pulling it out with a metallic clatter. The swagger, the confidence. Make the man Mecha again.
But Herman's looking at him weirdly, eyes narrowed, and when Robert stands between his legs, hands on his hips, he frowns. "What're you d-doing?"
"Huh?"
"You're doing a weird thing. Like—" Herm puffs himself up, swiping his hair up out of his face, and fixes Robert with a smolder. It doesn't even look bad, necessarily, but it's so un-Herman that Robert bursts into laughter.
"Okay. Point taken." He leans down and cups Herm's dewy face, kissing him again. "It's been a while. Forgive an old man for working on instinct."
"R-Robert, you're—are thirty-one."
"Second point taken. You gonna help me get out of these, or what?" Herm grins and goes for his jeans. They're quickly discarded, and once he's sitting on the bed, he waves him off. "Okay. Don't look at me. Let me lay down." Herm dutifully looks away as Robert does an awkward shimmy up the bed, settling down on his back. That's new. "Okay. Good."
"D'you want some pillows? For your sp—back? Spine?"
Robert narrows his eyes. Herm's still facing away to the point where he can't see his eyes. "How do you know I don't have any pillows? That a new power? 360 vision?"
"N-nope. Just know you," Herm replies simply.
And, well, Robert simply can't let it be known how much those three words shake him to his core, so instead, he tugs the pillows behind his back and replies, "Okay, ready."
"Thank you, s-sir. Robert." Robert's pretty sure he's beating out Waterboy for the amount of pre-cum his flaccid cock leaks, and it only gets worse when he calls him fucking sir. Herm chews his lip and kneels between Robert's legs, looking down at him reverently. Robert's been avoiding sex—for a variety of reasons, though this is at the top of the list, for sure—but Herm looks like he wants to devour him. "Can…can I taste you?" Case in point. He expects Herman to reach out and swipe some pre onto his fingers, maybe lean down and lick it off his stomach if he's feeling really crazy. What he's not expecting is for him to tug Robert a little further down the bed, fall to his stomach, and begin to eat him out like a man fucking starved.
"Oh my fucking—Christ, Herm, shit!" Robert moans, head falling back against the pillows as his hand flies down to Herm's hair. Waterboy just moans in response, angular nose nudging up against Robert's balls as he licks and drools over his hole with a fervor Robert is positive isn't from the weed, and is nearly as positive he shares. He holds his head down against him and fucks himself back on his tongue; he momentarily worries about suffocating him, but Herm seems happy to stay where he's put, only driving his tongue deeper inside of Robert's hole. "Ah—fu-uck, good boy," he groans, reaching down with his free hand to gather some of the extra slick dripping down his ass. It may not succeed in getting him hard, but rocking between his fist and Herman's mouth still feels pretty damn good. "Gimme your fingers, baby, c'mon," he encourages. He feels a triumphant laugh escape, the sound pulled out of him more than any conscious effort at it as he's rewarded with two skinny fingers alongside Herman's tongue. "Fuck, yes. Oh, yeah, Hermy, you got it, doing gr-great."
He eventually adds a third, and soon enough, Herm's holding himself up over Robert with one hand, kissing Robert messily and desperately as he fucks four fingers into his hole. He's not all that experienced, hasn't learned Robert's body yet.
(Yet, yet, yet, his mind echoes tantalizingly.)
But after being eaten out 'til he saw God—impressive, considering Robert hadn't believed in God since he was 5 years old and still believed his parents always told the truth—Robert frankly doesn't give a shit about getting a prostate exam right now. He wants Herman in him yesterday. "C'mon, sweetheart," he coos against Herm's drooling lips. "I know you want it. You've been so fucking good for me."
"Robert!"
"I know, I know. Take it, honey. Take whatever you want." Take me.
"O-okay," Herm whines, pressing one more urgent kiss to his lips before gently pulling his fingers out. "Can—can you flip ov—around? Please? The angle—it'll—with the pillows—be good. I think." Robert hums, already feeling kind of boneless. With some substansial effort, he does as Herm requests, gathering the pillows up under his stomach. So much fucking laundry to do. "Y-yeah. Mm—"
Robert makes a strangled groan-gasp when Herm's tongue returns, licking from his balls up to his hole. "Herman—"
"Mm?"
"Cock. Now. Please," he grits out. He feels Herm shaking with quiet laughter behind him. "Sweetheart."
"Okay—o-okay." The bed shifts and sloshes along with Herm. "Do you need—want—I didn't bring, but i-if you have—"
"No condom," Robert all but begs. "Just—Herm—" He looks over his shoulder, and he must be a real piece of work, because Herm's face shifts from one of hesitant anticipation to that same determined look he had before. Herman leans down and kisses him again, and when his tip—self-fucking-lubricating—breaches Robert's hole, they both sigh. "That's it, there's my—good boy—" Robert praises before having to bury his face in the pillow underneath him. "Oh—fuck!"
"Hurts?" Herm whimpers.
Robert shakes his head. "No, no, keep going, in a-and out, shallow, like—fuck, like that—" he coaches. He feels like he's barely loud enough for himself to hear—or maybe it's just all the blood rushing in his ears.
"Ohhh, Rob—Robert—" Herman cries, hips twitching and jerking as the head of his cock catches on Robert's hole again.
"Fuck, I know—God, Herm, keep—keep going, you got it, sweetheart—"
Herman makes a wounded noise at the pet name, hips snapping against Robert's ass with a pornographically wet smack, and Robert swears again as he bottoms out inside of him. "Sorry! Sorry—"
"Don't apologize for a thing, Hermy," Robert grits out, rolling his hips back in an effort to get adjusted. "I'll tell you if it's too much, 'kay? Til then, just keep g-ah!" He chokes as Herm, seemingly having heard all he needed to, begins his frantic thrusting with no warning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Rob—sir, thank you—" Robert reaches up behind himself to grab the back of Herman's neck, but his hand slips on his slick skin, slapping back down onto the mattress instead. Herm seems to have no problem holding onto Robert, though, gripping onto him so tightly he's sure he'll have more bruises in the morning. Good. "Am I—doing—"
"Oh, God, baby, you're—fuck—" Robert throws his head back and immediately feels Herm's lips latch onto his neck. Understandably, it takes him a few extra seconds to wade through his sludgy thoughts and find the words, even more so because he doesn't immediately recognize the feeling. "So fucking good. You're—good, so good, fuck me so well, Hermy, getting me close—fuck!" Eloquent, as ever.
But it hardly matters, if Herm's reaction is anything to go by; his thrusts falter in their steady gait, and his fingers dig in even tighter, to the point that Robert sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Rob—Robert, I'm gonna come—"
"Hold on for me, sweetheart, just—fuck—just a little bit longer—" But he feels Herman's wet bangs brush against his neck as he frantically shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, I'm, I'm gonna—c-coming, Robert! R-Robert!" Herm cries into his neck, water gushing down between Robert's back and his chest and soaking the mattress underneath. Robert, however, doesn't have it in him to give a shit, not when Herman's still got his fingers practically underneath his ribcage and his cum is beginning to bloat Robert's stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't—"
"It's alright, kid," Robert pants, trying to catch his breath. "It's okay, fuck, you did so well, Herm." He wipes his forehead of sweat—though it doesn't do much when dropping his head back into the pillow wets it all over again—and then turns his face up.
Poor Herman's eyes are welling with tears.
And Robert, God save him, feels his cock make another heroic effort to harden. "Herman—oh, kid, you look so—" Herman ducks his head. "Ah-ah, sweetheart. Don't hide from me." He can see the blush on Herm's cheeks rise even higher as he lifts his head. "There you are. You were so good, I promise, you were so good."
"Thank you, Robert," Herm breathes, giddy smile wide. The glow of lamplight behind him compliments his hair and eyes, and when he drips water onto Robert's lips, he licks it up with pride.
Robert is so fucked.