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“G.U.N. can wait,” Robotnik says, grinning at Stone like a cat about to go in for the kill, stalking ever closer. “Their collosal fuck up is the reason we’re stranded in the Canadian wilderness of all fucking places, so they can survive without us for another couple hours. Maybe it’ll teach them a lesson about proper planning. Speaking of lessons.”
Stone swallows, his heart beginning to race. Part of him, some deep primal part, is screaming at him to run — and it might be fun to indulge in that urge, to make Robotnik chase him down and pin him to the forest floor, to be fucked into submission, but not right now. He’s too pent up for that.
And if the way Robotnik is looking at him is any indication, Robotnik isn’t in the mood for any more brattiness on Stone’s part right now.
So Stone does nothing to prevent Robotnik from shoving him against one of the many trees in the clearing. He hits the bark with a soft oof. Then he lets his gaze flicker up to Robotnik’s gleaming eyes, and he tilts his head back, baring his neck in a show of submission that makes Robotnik laugh.
It’s a cold, condescending tune that has Stone’s cheeks burning with shame and the front of his pants growing ever tighter.
“Cute. Glad to see you’ve finally regained some common sense — for a moment there, I thought one of your two brain cells might’ve spontaneously combusted.” He shakes Stone by the shoulders. “During a mission, Stone? Really?”
Stone stares at him.
The audacity of this man.
Robotnik has teased him on missions plenty of times, so he’s just being a full-on hypocrite now, but Stone is in deep enough trouble without adding back talk to his list of sins.
Instead, he widens his eyes in a perfect picture of innocence and says, “Sorry, doctor.”
Robotnik grabs his face and glares down at him, putting a borderline painful amount of pressure on his jaw, digging his fingers into Stone’s soft skin.
It won’t bruise, unfortunately. Finger-shaped marks on Stone’s face would be too difficult to explain, and Robotnik is an expert at dancing the line between just pain and actual bruising. That being said, if it were up to Stone, he’d be covered in bruises and marks every moment of the day. But there’s only so much HR can turn a blind eye to without it drawing the attention of higher-ups and becoming a whole ordeal.
Even with the substantial amount of blackmail Robotnik’s been levying over them.
“You will be sorry,” Robotnik says, and Stone inhales sharply, pressing his cock into Robotnik’s thigh as furtively as he can.
Please.
Robotnik immediately shifts his leg away from Stone, denying him any contact whatsoever and leveling him with an unimpressed look, squeezing his face harder for a fraction of a second before letting go entirely and taking a step backward, brushing his hands off on his coat as if Stone has cooties.
Rude.
Promptly, Robotnik turns on his heel, striding over to a nearby tree and making a show of examining its branches while Stone’s heart skips a beat. After what feels like an eternity, Robotnik snaps off a thin yet sturdy looking stick. Dramatically pulling out a pocket knife from his pocket and flipping out the blade, he drags it across the stick in a fluid motion, once, twice, three times, rotating the stick as he goes and stripping it of its rough bark and pointy edges.
When he’s done, he gives it a test swing, swishing it in front of him. It makes a thwippy noise as it cuts through the air.
Stone shivers. He keeps his eyes on the stick, arousal warring with nervous anticipation, his heart beating very quickly in his chest. He hadn’t gotten half this worked up over the actual mission. He licks his dry lips, absently reaching back to rub his ass. He’ll be standing at work the next couple days for sure — unless Robotnik orders him to sit down, which is a very real possibility, and one that Stone both hopes will come to fruition and simultaneously prays does not.
His mind is a fickle thing.
How can he both dread something and crave it?
How can something so objectively unpleasant be so appealing?
“Drop your pants; hands against the tree,” Robotnik orders, crossing back over to where Stone was waiting.
Immediately, and perhaps a little too eagerly for the situation, Stone obeys. He fumbles with the button on his slacks, shoving them along with his boxers halfway down his toned thighs. Another time, he might’ve done a strip tease. But he’s far too impatient for that right now.
He places his hands against the cool bark and squares his shoulders, then peaks over them at Robotnik. Leaves crunch under the doctor’s shoes as he approaches, placing a firm gloved hand on Stone’s back, and taps the switch lightly against Stone’s ass.
Once, twice, and then a third time.
But the third time he actually winds up, and it swishes loudly before leaving a trail of intense stinging in its wake. Stone hisses, then exhales slowly through the pain.
Robotnik gives him a moment to adjust before continuing.
The doctor starts off tapping once or twice in between adding to the increasing number of stripes, until Stone is sweating and squirming and whining softly, at which point Robotnik picks up the pace and starts really laying into him, until Stone is sobbing softly, thoroughly repentant.
His face is hot and wet with tears. He needs it to stop, but he also needs it to go on forever, an eternity of falling apart beneath Robotnik’s steady hand while the pain cleanses him from the inside out. No heaven could compare. If one even does exist. And even if it does, Stone won’t be allowed in — but that won’t matter, as long as he got to join Robotnik in whatever awaits them.
But right now, they’re alive.
Though Stone is so hard that death seems imminent if he doesn’t get Robotnik’s cock into him pos
Stone’s shoulders shake, and it takes a great deal of effort to stay in position.
Finally, Robotnik finishes, tossing down the switch and wiping away Stone’s tears with his gloved hand.
Stone moans, straightening up on shaky legs in order to steal a long, wet kiss that Robotnik enthusiastically returns. It’s only when Stone starts trying to grind up against him that Robotnik pulls away.
Before Stone can start complaining, Robotnik says, “Ah ah ah, lube?”
Stone brightens and reaches into his pocket — so he’d been anticipating Robotnik fucking him at some point today, sue him — but it’s not there. He scowls, checking his other pocket. Damn.
“It must’ve fallen out during the shoot-out,” Stone says. “It’s fine though, I prepped myself earlier.”
“How much earlier?” Robotnik asks, raising a judgemental eyebrow — hah! As if he has any room to talk.
“This morning, before we left.”
“Let me see.”
Obediently, Stone turns back to the tree and presses his hands to it once more, spreading his legs a bit wider this time, though he doesn’t take his pants and boxers off — mainly because he doesn’t have anywhere to put them except for the forest floor, and it doesn’t take a genius like Robotnik to know that would be a bad idea.
Robotnik rolls his eyes, pulling one of Stone’s asscheeks to the side to examine his hole. “Whore,” the doctor murmurs, then, louder, “It’ll still hurt. You’re loose, but you’re dry.”
“I don’t care,” Stone whines, spreading his legs a little further apart in invitation. He trusts Robotnik to make it burn without causing any actual damage. “Use spit or something.”
“Fine! Fine, my insatiable sycophant. But I don’t want to hear you whining tomorrow about how sore you are. You brought this on yourself.”
‘My insatiable sycophant.’
Stone beams. Coming from Robotnik, that’s practically a declaration of love.
“Technically, I’d be sore either way,” he feels the need to point out. “My ass is covered in welts.”
Robotnik smacks across said welts, reigniting the burn and making Stone yip loudly, though he manages not to reach back. “Which you also brought on yourself, since you seem unable to behave.”
Not unable, just, unwilling.
Stone can behave when he wants to. Robotnik knows this, Stone knows this, and it's part of why the times when Stone does act out are as special — and memorable — as they are.
Robotnik spits lewdly onto his fingers, loud and wet.
He presses two fingers against Stone’s hole, and Stone moans, pressing back against them. Robotnik pushes them in, and they burn as they stretch him open. Really, Robotnik should’ve started with only one, especially since they don’t have any lube; and Stone whines, arching his back.
It’s not a complaint though.
Far from it.
He presses himself back, attempting to fuck himself on Robotnik’s fingers, but Robotnik huffs loudly and gives him another swat across one of his welted thighs. It stings like crazy, and Stone jerks forward with a yelp. Owww. He looks over his shoulder, pouting, sticking out his bottom lip and giving Robotnik his best puppy eyes.
Robotnik is unaffected.
“Who’s in charge here, barnacle?”
Biting back a sigh, Stone says, “You, sir.”
Now can you please fuck me already?
He gets his unspoken wish when, in response to Stone’s reply, Robotnik pushes back in, this time with three fingers.
Stone pants softly, attempting to adjust. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his forehead resting against the rough bark of the tree. His cock leaks pre-cum as Robotnik’s fingers finally find his prostrate.
“Ahh,” he moans, shoulders shaking.
It would seem that Robotnik, despite his teasing, is just as desperate as Stone — Stone had spent all day making suggestive comments and touching him for just a couple seconds too long to be inconspicuous, at one point full on squeezing his ass and dancing out of reach before Robotnik could smack him, after all — and only stretches Stone for a minute or so before spitting in his hand once more, this time stroking his cock.
Finally!
Stone feels Robotnik’s cock press up against his hole, and does his best to relax.
Robotnik grips Stone’s shoulder with one hand and Stone’s opposite hip with the other.
Slowly, Robotnik starts pushing in, and Stone whines loudly at the burn. He squirms, panting. The urge to pull away wars with the urge to push back. He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again when that does nothing, tears welling in his eyes once more and blurring his vision.
“Do you want me to stop?” Robotnik asks, breathless.
Stone musters up the strength to send Robotnik a death-glare over his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking dare. Sir,” he adds as an afterthought, as if that somehow decreases the disrespectful wording, but Robotnik pays it no mind, seemingly too distracted to care, continuing his slow movement forward.
When Robotnik bottoms out, pressing up against the welts covering Stone’s ass, Stone hisses loudly — but then presses back.
Luckily, that seems to remind Robotnik that Stone doesn’t need him to be gentle. Doesn’t even want him to be gentle. The opposite.
Robotnik slowly picks up the speed, and Stone is so overwhelmed by the foggy haze of pain and pleasure that he doesn’t realize he’s close to the edge until he’s already going over it, cum splattering onto the tree as Stone shudders and moans, crying once more.
This doesn’t stop Robotnik. He fucks Stone through the overstimulation, even as Stone’s whines and whimpers grow louder, until he tenses up and pulls out, stroking himself through orgasm and blowing his load on the forest floor.
Stone is about to protest, though his head is very foggy, when he realizes they wouldn’t have any way to clean up. And Robotnik knows Stone well enough to know he wouldn’t want to walk around with sticky boxers for the next however many hours until G.U.N. gets whatever signal Robotonik sends out and comes to collect them.
Robotnik helps him stand up straight and get his pants back up.
The fabric rubs against the welts covering his ass, making him groan softly.
He then rests his head against Robotnik’s chest, allowing the older man to support most of his weight. “Ow,” he mumbles.
With a scoff, Robotnik wraps his arms around Stone. “I'd say I told you so, but I'm always telling you I told you so, so it would be redundant. Still — I told you so.”
“Mm. Yeah, you did.” A smile plays at the corners of Stone’s mouth, and he basks in the warmth and safety of Robotnik’s arms.He’s in heaven right now. Not despite the aches and pains, but because of them, and even more so, because of the man who gave them to him. “‘M not complaining though.”
Robotnik scoffs. “Of course you’re not. Masochist. Now you’ve got five minutes, and then I need to start rigging up a way to contact Walters. Unless you want to sleep in the forest tonight?”
It’s a sarcastic question, and probably rhetorical, but Stone responds anyway, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, no. I don’t want rabies.”
“Weirdo.”
“I’m weird for not wanting the ultra creepy mind control foam at the mouth disease?”
“No, you’re weird for assuming that sleeping in the forest means you’re going to get bitten by a wild animal — ah ba ba ba ba, no, I already know what you’re about to say, and if you imply that I’m a wild animal–”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Hm. Sure.”
“I love you, Ivo.”
“Hmph.”
“Oh, come on,” Stone whines, pouting. And just when Stone had thought Robotnik was finally getting over his allergy to affection too.
Robotnik audibly rolls his eyes. “Fine. I love you too, Aban.”
And despite Robotnik’s reticence in saying the actual words, Stone knows it’s true.