Work Text:
If Petey had been asked maybe even a month ago if he would ever fuck Dog Man, he wouldn’t have graced that question with a response. He probably would have killed whoever was asking him such an inane question.
Yet here he was now, his dick buried deep inside the guy he used to chase around the city regularly, his claws digging into the soft flesh of his hips.
He’s been fucking into him almost mindlessly for a while now; he’s honestly lost track of time. He can’t even really remember how they got here.
Petey clenches his jaw as a sharp pain flares in his head, the pain not strong enough to stop him from continuing to chase his pleasure.
It had started off as one drink, then two, then three. Maybe four? Or five? At some point they had started kissing.
Why? There was obviously the alcohol. Maybe it was the knowledge that they had the house to themselves for the night. Maybe it was just too damn cold. Fuck if he knew. The details were too fuzzy.
All that matters at this point is that Dog Man is soft and ridiculously tight around him. His body is running hot like a space heater, his skin glistening with sweat as Petey fucks into him like a fleshlight.
Petey could probably go like this forever. It feels like he's drowning in liquid lust, all external sounds being muffled and far away.
But of course, Dog Man won’t let him be at peace for long, as usual. Petey stops moving abruptly, getting pulled harshly back to the present when he hears him whimper.
It’s high pitched and desperate and so loud it seems to echo across the room.
Petey feels himself getting lightheaded, mentally replaying the sound over and over and over again.
He can feel his tail quivering almost violently behind him, fighting past the alcoholic buzz to really focus on the scene before him.
Dog Man, laying underneath him, trembling and whining. Completely helpless to his torment.
Just like he had always wanted. Although, definitely not like this.
“Who knew all I had to do was to fuck you to get you like this?” he mumbles to nobody in particular, pulling him closer by the hips.
Petey wants to believe there’s an easy reason why that whine was doing things to him, making the heat in the pit of his stomach turn burning white.
The Dog Man who he had always wanted under his thumb was whining and writhing under him. He was twitching and clenching around him every time he bottomed out, as if trying to keep him inside, if the meaty thighs locked around his hips weren’t strong enough indication. He’s taking him perfectly, his face so flushed it was seeping down to his chest, brushing him in a soft pink glow.
Dog Man was his. His to take, to have, to keep. He was clouding the dog’s judgement, imprinting himself onto him slowly but surely.
Of course, Petey loves this so much because he hates him so much. He was turning the bane of his existence into putty under his fingers. What villain wouldn't be happy at making his hero into such a state?
That would be easier to believe if he was still a villain, still solely concerned with ruining Dog Man’s day, week, and life.
But he wasn’t anymore. He was a do-gooder.
Except, his feelings hadn’t changed much since then; at least not this obsessive, all-consuming, unnamed something that was eating him up, radiating from between his ribs like a star. When it came to Dog Man, this feeling had become second nature to him. It’s what motivated him, propelled him into action, disciplined him into polishing up his machines to perfection and escaping jail in record time.
He didn’t know what it was exactly, didn’t care to examine it closely either. At some point, it had just become a part of him. He had just labelled it as “hate”; what else would it be?
But that was when he was a villain. So why was he still feeling it now, and while he was having sex with the guy? Remind him why he’s even having sex with him in the first place?
Leave it to Dog Man to get him feeling what he thought he had left behind in jail when he had been pardoned.
Of course, it had to be that Dog Man was so inherently insufferable that he was making him regress. So obviously this was all just fueled by hate. It had to be.
It was so much easier to hold onto that belief than the alternative: that he was getting so riled up because he had wanted Dog Man like this since the beginning, even when they bit and tore and ripped into each other like rabid animals. Where all the times he had wanted Dog Man dead, he might have just wanted Dog Man period.
No. Of course not. He’s always hated him, even now. That’s why he still wants to hear him whine, still wants him to melt under his touch. It’s not because he wants him, it’s because he wants him totally subjugated.
It’s because I hate him, he seems to try reminding himself, ignoring the images of the canine carrying Li’l Petey on his shoulders, long after he surely would have started getting tired. The way he would come back home after work and cozy up next to him, bothering him while he was trying to make them dinner.
It’s because I hate him, Petey reminds himself again, ignoring how the pit in his stomach feels like anything but.
Dog Man was anything if not reliable. Count on him to ruin Petey’s life like clockwork.
Dog Man whimpers softly, his hips bucking up, seeming to despair the loss of friction, taking Petey out of his thoughts.
Without warning, without thinking, Petey dives down and kisses him. Dog Man’s breathing is shallow, his chest rising and falling erratically. He squirms under Petey as he rams into him again, aiming for his prostate. He hits his target dead on as Dog Man’s whole body trembles with pleasure as if he had been electrocuted. He whines again, long and pathetic, effortlessly turning Petey’s guts into pudding. Petey lets out a small involuntary whimper, kissing him harder, more aggressively, and wishing he could drink sound.
It’s because I hate him.
Petey grinds into him as he twitches around him, his inner walls clenching like a vice grip around his dick. His paws touch and prod and grab at his body, relishing in the way his skin sinks under his fingertips, soft and malleable.
It’s because I hate him.
Dog Man, who was—no, is always such a thorn in his side. Dog Man, who is a good father to his son. Dog Man, who smiles in that annoying, infuriating way whenever he outsmarts him. Dog Man, who hugs him close to his chest and looks at him as if he’s someone worth loving.
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
Petey’s body trembles like an overworked machine as he cums, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach as Dog Man follows not long after, locking his thighs harder around his hips as if to keep him inside.
His brain is working overtime now, all too aware of himself, of Dog Man, of their stupid relationship.
He’s not staring at the way the muscle in his neck jumps, his body spasming lightly with pleasure. His ear doesn’t flick, trying to pick up every punched out gasp coming from the man under him. He feels totally normal about how his golden lashes flutter, how he’s slightly slack-jawed from pleasure. It doesn’t matter to him at all that the canine’s thick arms wrap around him once he comes down from his high, bringing him close to his chest as he gently presses kisses to the side of his face. And he definitely doesn't hear a soft repetition of “I love you”s in the back of his head when he kisses him again without thinking.
He wants to argue with himself more, but he's drowning in so much pleasure that he feels like he’s dying. So he just lets himself kiss him, lets himself get held by him as if they’re lovers.
It’s all out of hate, after all. So Petey has nothing to worry about.