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“You lose!”
“Ugh. Yeah, yeah,” says Zanka, lying on his back in the grass. “Fine. Whaddaya want this time?”
“Mmmmm…” Jabber takes a breath. “I’m gonna fuck you. Uh. Not like normal, though. I mean I’m gonna fuck you. In the ass.”
A beat.
“Why’re’ya sayin’ that like yer tryin’a convince yerself?”
“Shut up!” says Jabber, pouting. “I can totally fuck you if I want! An’ I won, so I get to pick my prize. That’s how this works.”
“Mm-hmm,” says Zanka.
“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me! My dick ain’t as big as yours, but it ain’t small. An’ you never been fucked before. So you should be scared!”
“Ah-huh,” says Zanka.
“Don’t mm-hmm ah-huh me. Jus’ for that, I’mma make it hurt,” says Jabber. “Ass-virgin.”
“Mmkay,” says Zanka. “Ya gonna get on with it, or jus’ sit there ‘n’ knead my thighs like a lil’ kitty-cat?”
Jabber splutters. “Whuh- Fuck you!” He wrestles their pants down. Zanka just watches him coolly. “You ‘boutta eat yo’ whole nonchalant-ass demeanor,” Jabber tells him, and receives a faint huff in return. “Jus’ you wait.”
He hikes Zanka’s leg over his shoulder and puts the head of his dick to Zanka’s tight little hole.
Pushes.
It does not go in.
“Uh,” says Jabber.
“Give yerself a couple pumps first,” Zanka advises.
Jabber looks up and sees him smirking. A brief flash of clarity—is this how he feels when I bait him?
“Fuck you!” he yells, redundantly, and viciously stabs his middle finger in.
Zanka grunts, and his body clamps around Jabber’s finger. He blinks a couple of times, but otherwise, his face stays placid.
Jabber stares at him. “Ay. This hurts when you do it to me.”
“Yeah, I know,” says Zanka. He doesn’t even sound winded. “S’why I do it.”
“Okay but why ain’t you-”
“Try not to lose Mankira inside me,” says Zanka. “I don’t feel like goin’ to the hospital today.”
“I ain’t gon’ lose my damn Vital Instrument in yo’ damn asshole-” Oh holy shit, he might lose his damn Vital Instrument in Zanka’s damn asshole. Part of her, anyway. Uh-uh. No way. Beyond the obvious problem with that, he also gets the sense that he would NEVER EVER LIVE THIS DOWN, which would totally destroy any sense of cool mystique that accompanies his interactions with Zanka. He does have pride! Not much, but it’s there! Oh, there we go. Thank fuck.
Middle finger safely extracted, rings and all, he quickly pulls Mankira off his hands and stows her in a little pouch he has in his pocket. “Okay,” he pants. “Take two.” And thrusts in again with two fingers this time.
Zanka winces a little, but he still doesn’t make any sound, and his face still looks… Fine. Bored, even.
“I hate you,” says Jabber. When Zanka does this to him, puts two fingers in too fast without any lube, he loves it. Which is to say it hurts so bad he starts to have trouble breathing. “Do you jus’ got no nerves in your ass or somethin’?”
Zanka’s eyebrows raise. “I definitely do,” he says. “Ya want me to scream like you do, ya gotta give me somethin’ to scream about.”
“Motherfucker, I am!”
“Uh-huh,” says Zanka. Smooth as glass, with two of Jabber’s fingers inside him, poking at his walls without a shred of consideration—WHAT IS HE MADE OF?! “Put yer dick in. Then we’ll see.”
“Well- Then- I WILL!” says Jabber.
This time it works. He takes his fingers out, gets closer, wraps his arm around Zanka’s lifted-up thigh to keep it against his chest- He does have to pump himself a couple times, since this isn’t exactly the kind of thing that gets him going, and when he does, Zanka smirks at him again, and that—the awful squirmy feeling in his belly—that’s what really does it. He’s rock hard when he finally pushes inside.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Unngh- What the hell-”
“D’ya get why I always want lube now?” says Zanka. Okay, now he’s breathing hard at least- Or at least intentionally, long pulls in through the nose and out through the mouth- Eyes a little narrowed, it’s clear that he doesn’t like this-
AND JABBER DOESN’T LIKE IT EITHER, OW, FUCK.
The pain is exquisite. It feels like Zanka wrapped a fist around his dick and squeezed. And it’s so dry inside that it tugs at delicate skin like Zanka’s ass is gonna rip it off- That’s the part that Jabber likes. What he doesn’t like is that HE’S GOTTA MAKE HIMSELF KEEP THRUSTING. “Ow, ow, ow,” he moans. “What the hell. Ow. Holy fuck. I didn’t know it felt like that. Ow, ow.”
“Well, git in there,” says Zanka. “That ain’t all, right?”
“AY FUCK YOU, THAT’S MY LINE!”
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It’s fine when he’s still, but when he moves, it’s so bad. He manages a few thrusts, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing. A cold sweat erupts all over his body. All the while, Zanka just watches him impassively, cool blue eyes flat and bored.
“You really are all talk,” he says.
“Fuck,” moans Jabber. “You can’t say that shit to me. Makes me so hard- It hurts, Zanka.”
Strong thighs wrap around his waist. Blue eyes glitter. “There’s lube in my pack,” says Zanka. “Medical jelly. Started carryin’ it jus’ for you.”
Okay yeah lube might be a good idea. Jabber starts to pull back. Zanka’s pack is a couple feet to the right, he tossed it over there while he was getting them undressed.
Zanka’s ankles lock behind him.
“‘Course,” says Zanka, “I ain’t gon’ letcha git it.”
Uh-oh, thinks Jabber, with a nervous giggle.
Zanka giggles right back. “C’mon,” he says. “I thought ya liked pain. ‘Hurts so good,’ ya keep sayin’.” His legs tighten and push Jabber deeper into his body. Jabber yelps and falls forward, bracing himself on Zanka’s chest. Like this, the amused twist of Zanka’s mouth is even closer. “Thought you were gonna fuck me,” he says. “Don’t tell me I gotta do all the work.”
“I can’t,” Jabber wheezes. “What the fuck-” and then he moans in pain as Zanka starts rocking him in and out. It’s so fucking tight in there, he didn’t know anything could be that tight, shit, am I that tight?! WAIT. No the fuck he isn’t—ZANKA IS DOING THAT ON PURPOSE. Zanka has the ass muscles of an ass-based bodybuilder and he is CLENCHING DOWN ON JABBER’S DICK. Just to make him cry. Even though it must hurt like a bitch—when Zanka fucks him too dry, that shit is excruciating. Jabber hyperventilates. “You-”
“This is really pathetic,” Zanka tells him. One foot on his hip to push him out, another behind him to push him right back in. Jabber is never going to underestimate his flexibility ever again. “Big bad Raider on top of a poor little Cleaner, an’ all he can do is squeal like a stuck pig.” He makes Jabber demonstrate, clamps down hard and pushes him out. The drag is unbearable. Tears well up in Jabber’s eyes, and he whines, high and useless, just like Zanka said. “Aww, what’s wrong? You need a break? Well, too bad, ‘cause I don’t feel like givin’ ya any.”
“I’m gonna come,” Jabber moans.
Zanka laughs at him. “Yeah?” Keeps moving him, keeps making him, hooks two fingers in the side of his mouth and smacks the side of his ass. Sets a fast, shallow rhythm, just enough of the worst kind of friction, no time to recover, just pain, pain, pain. Jabber gags on it. It hurts so bad he feels sick. It hurts so bad his eyes are rolling back in his skull. “Two-pump chump,” says Zanka. “I ain’t even hard yet.” He snorts. “Go on, then. Might as well get it over with.”
With one last whimper, Jabber shudders all over and loses it, coming inside. He vaguely hears Zanka make a disgusted noise, and he gasps when Zanka slaps the side of his ass again, much harder this time. He must be getting his strength back. Jabber’s head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, and when he pulls out, his dick is red and sore. He shudders again, exhaling shakily. “Holy shit.”
Then his back hits the ground, and suddenly Zanka is on top of him.
He must make a confused noise, because Zanka raises an eyebrow. “What, didya think we were done?”
Jabber blinks.
RUN, says his body.
YEAH, RUN, says his brain. HOLY SHIT, RUN.
But Zanka is sitting on his thighs. Pants off, casual as anything, whole weight resting there, and when Jabber starts scrambling, he just laughs and pins him down by the shoulders. Fuck you—you didn’t even win this round! thinks Jabber, and activates Mankira-
Except she isn’t on him. She isn’t on his hands. He put her away. In his pocket.
And judging by that gleam in Zanka’s eyes, he’s realized the exact same thing.
Jabber swallows. He hasn’t blinked in like thirty seconds. Is this what food feels like before you eat it? A rustling noise to the side—they’re right by Zanka’s pack, and he’s rooting around in it, pulling out…
…a bottle of medical jelly.
Jabber relaxes. So Zanka wants to fuck him. That’s fine. That’s great. He likes that. He tries to spread his legs, but he’s still pinned. Whatever, they can do it on Zanka’s time. Zanka squirts some lube into his palm.
Brings it to Jabber’s dick.
“Hey,” says Jabber, very casually, as his entire body heaves like a shark in a fisherman’s net. “W- Wait a second.”
“Pfft.” Zanka wraps his slick hand around chafed, sore flesh—it’s COLD—and starts stroking. Fast. Jabber tries to jackknife up off the ground, but he CAN’T GO ANYWHERE with the WORLD’S DENSEST CLEANER ON TOP OF HIM. He’s mewling, trying to curl up, get away, and Zanka is laughing at him, stroking faster and meaner, holding Jabber down with a palm on his collarbones, and Jabber claws at that wrist with his nails.
“Zanka,” he sobs, “you fucking sadist-”
And then he cries out as Zanka sits on his dick and takes it all the way to the hilt.
He’s so sensitive, he’s only hard because of the pain. It doesn’t hurt anymore to be inside of Zanka, not because of the friction, not now that there’s lube, but he’s so tight. Jabber can’t see. He hears a satisfied groan from above, looks up, and his eyes finally focus on Zanka with his head thrown back, the long, graceful line of his neck pulsing with his breath. Fuck, he’s so hot. He’s so hot, and I’m gonna die. Zanka doesn’t wait to adjust or anything, just starts rolling his hips. Every nerve in Jabber’s dick is roiling. He’s already drooling, already can’t speak—it’s been two seconds.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” says Zanka, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. His big dick is finally starting to fill out, heavy on Jabber’s stomach. “You did a terrible job, so now it’s my turn. I’m gonna ride ya until I come. Yer gonna lie there ‘n’ take it. You can come or not, I don’t care. But until I get mine,” he tightens up, Jabber chokes, “we’re gonna keep goin’. No matter how much you cry.”
And Jabber has to fight not to come on the spot, because he knows Zanka means it.