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Yes, Flambae worked at a sex club on weekends.
The place wasn't the most luxurious, but it was low-risk and quite accommodating. With reds and purples and blues strewn about, the flickering neon signs and astral decor pulled through, making the joint an attractive destination for heroes and villains alike to get their rocks off.
The only thing he had to sign was a form confirming he was clean, and would get recurrent STD checks on the club's dollar. His body was still his own. He could wear whatever the hell he wanted, and the clientele were handpicked by the front of house to suit his 'style'.
He needed the change of scenery to counteract how cut and dry working at SDN had gotten. With Shroud defeated a year ago, SoCal became a yawn-fest. Sure, being a hero and all, the lighter workload should be a blessing. And maybe it might've been for someone else, but Flambae needed adrenaline. The drone of normalcy was far too grating for the likes of him.
So coming into the club and getting bathed in the sleepy, sensuous hues transported him into a world where the thrill he craved made him money. He only did dances for now, but he figured once he was properly settled in, he could widen his horizon.
He already had a client waiting for him, but he took his time in the mirror of the worker's lounge, applying his mascara and eyeshadow at a measured pace. Being fashionably late kept the client antsy and hot under the collar. He loved the feeling he got from opening the door, brushing past the beaded curtains, and taking a man's breath away just by showing up. There was something powerful about making metas, hybrids, and aliens wither at the sight of him in his black mesh top and thong.
Flambae loved being desired.
He fluffed out his hair, did a little twist, and winked at himself in the mirror before heading to his suite, His stage. His territory.
Flambae didn't knock. That was his strategy. A true king didn't need to announce himself, and this was his castle. He naturally commanded the room, tearing gasps from horny men's chests just by existing. He put on his best salacious face as he brushed past the reddish-purple beads. With a feline curl at the lip of his word, he spoke just a whisper above the gentle song of the wind chimes hanging from the chandelier.
"Welcome, baby. You've been so patient for- Oh, fuck no."
The scene immediately shattered. Flambae stood frozen on the fluffy area rug, wide-eyed and aghast at who he saw waiting for him on the loveseat.
Sitting in a shameless man-spread was Lobo, a known villain across the entirety of the globe, here in Flambae's suite. His hulking body swallowed up the charge in the air, robbing Flambae of his breath and spotlight.
The bounty hunter smirked, all overblown hubris and gleaming, sharp teeth.
"Long time no see, Hot Stuff."
Lobo's deep, roguish tenor reverberated down Flambae's spine. He was beside himself, embarrassingly staggered, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Tried.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Flambae clenched his fists at his sides. He'd never thrown hands in a thong, but hell, there was a first time for everything.
He knew he could fight, and Lobo knew that too, but the smug aura around the man only thickened at his anger.
"Gee, that's no way to talk to a paying customer," Lobo chided, looking pleased with himself. Getting under Flambae's skin gave him power. Flambae knew this, but he wasn't exactly the best at wearing a poker face under any circumstance, let alone seeing this fucking guy.
"What're you like, back for Phenomaman or something?" Flambae put a hand on his hip, glaring. "I remember the last time that didn't go so well for you. You know, when I kicked your ass n' all."
"Ha! Not a chance." Lobo propped his foot up on his knee. The air in the suite palpitated around his every word."Urgot don't pay nearly enough for the trouble."
Flambae gritted his teeth. "Then, why?"
Lobo chuckled under his breath, shaking his head before leveling Flambae an amused look. Then, he was standing—an iron wall decorated with anarchy and spikes.
Flambae fought the urge to take a step back, even as it rang like church bells through his bone marrow.
One thing he would never get used to about Lobo was the sheer size of him. To say he was built like a bear would be a criminal understatement. It was hard for one's physical scale to stand out in a world like this; there were so many different species on Earth now that it'd become a sort of gathering hub for passerbys. But Lobo had enormity and a dark gravitas, meaning he held all the cards in a scenario where he had the jump on the second party.
That… meant Flambae.
He'd never expected to see him again. He'd run into him twice in the past year. Once, to intercept him before he got to Phenomaman. The other, well…
"Y'know," Lobo rumbled, stalking toward him, a wolf to prey. "You're just as much of a princess as the last time I got my hands on ya."
The last time. Flambae swallowed hard, trying desperately to ignore the way his core throbbed at the memory.
"You- You didn't answer my fucking question. And quit acting like you know shit about me." The retort fell flat, withered at the end, because Lobo was standing directly in front of him, and all Flambae could think about was how delicious the scent of cigar smoke and metal was.
"Oh, I know enough, Hot Stuff." Lobo purred, and that stupid nickname made Flambae shudder from head to toe.
Lobo's crimson eyes gleamed with mischief, their color severe where the dark marking on his face framed them. His jet-black lion's mane absorbed the sparse light in the suite, demanding Flambae's undivided attention. How ridiculous did he look right now, trying to act tough while virtually naked? Lobo had his sleeveless leather jacket, those faded jeans that hugged his musculature, and all the classic accessories of a biker who wore his identity proudly. He was the pinnacle of intimidation.
It was turning Flambae on all over again. Before he could try to will away the arousal stoking between his legs, Lobo's massive hand grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up. The pads of Lobo's thick fingers were stained with brake dust, and he smelled fiercely of sun-baked leather. Flambae was dizzy with it as he sneered defiantly, trying to jerk away, but Lobo was stronger. Much, much stronger.
"It's okay, babe. Just say ya missed me," Lobo growled, taunting. "You're so horny I can fuckin' smell it."
Flambae choked down a whimper, his eyes flickering from Lobo's to his rough-looking lips. He remembered how bitter they tasted; how tyrannical Lobo's kiss was.
Flambae shouldn't be giving in to this. He moaned when Lobo leaned in and kissed his neck anyway.
"You fucking—" Flambae breathed, grasping onto Lobo's biceps. "Hunted me down, just to—"
The words left him as Lobo's teeth sank into the sensitive skin above his tendon, applying pressure that flirted just past the point of pain. Flambae gasped and flinched back, twisting his body to escape the twinge, but Lobo's other arm was around his waist, sealing him in place.
Not an ounce of give.
It quickly became apparent that there was no hope of evening the playing field here. Lobo had the upper hand, and there was far too much of Flambae that wanted this for him to stand a chance.
"You're bein' feisty, pretty boy," Lobo rumbled against the shell of his ear, the tickle of his coarse beard making him shudder. He held Flambae so close that his face was almost buried in his massive, shaggy hair. He had to turn his head toward Lobo just to keep from drowning in his provocative scent. "But you must have somethin' in mind for lil' ol' me. Last I checked, this place don't have ya on a contract, and I can feel your tiny cock pokin' on me."
White-hot embarrassment flooded Flambae's face and sunk down to his shoulders. He was fully hard, his cock fattened and needy inside the thong, and they were so, so close. He throbbed against the rough material of Lobo's jeans, whining when Lobo ground forward, pressing his bulging crotch into Flambae's defenseless cock.
With a cruel chuckle that vibrated Flambae's body, Lobo nipped his ear lobe, tugged it, then pivoted both their weights effortlessly. They whirled to the side, and Flambae found himself shoved onto the bed. The back of his knees hit the wooden support, and he fell square on his ass, and before he could even catch himself, Lobo snatched his wrists and pinned them over his head.
Immediately, Flambae lurched his whole weight forward, kicking and snarling into Lobo's face, only to be met with delighted, dark laughter. He thrashed until the uselessness of it all left him dizzy and breathless, feral even though Lobo definitely wasn't bluffing about his strength, and most likely never had. He knew where this was going and he fucking craved it, but the last thing he wanted was to go down easy. That was never his style.
He growled and glowering wildly into blood moon eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle any noise that might communicate anything other than anger.
"Thought you only gave dances, darlin'," Lobo sneered, flashing his canines.
Flambae scoffed, fighting for air. "Been- Been doing your research, bitch?"
"Nah," Lobo squeezed his wrists together, crushing his wrist bones into each other. Flambae did not moan out of a place of pain. "I've always been the type to pick favorites."
They were violently kissing the very next second. Lobo kissed like he was trying to eat him, and the worst part was it wasn't messy in the unsexy way. He knew Flambae's lips. He knew how to devour him and take him apart. Flambae drank the cigar tang off Lobo's thick tongue, drooling, eyes rolling back behind his eyelids as the man's strong hips bore down on him. He could feel Lobo's hefty erection right up on his barely clothed cock, abrading the stiff flesh, splitting Flambae's resolve into two messy halves.
Lobo broke the kiss, a string of spit connected Flambae's defiant scowl to Lobo's lupine smile.
"Ooh, ya dolled yourself up," Lobo's eyes shone with glee. "Gonna make that mascara run clean off your face."
Lobo was able to hold Flambae's wrists with one hand, and the other traveled south, producing the clamor of a belt coming loose and a zipper being undone. Something hot and heavy flopped onto Flambae's thong. He couldn't think straight. His thighs trembled with anticipation, not daring to look down at the man's cock. He was sure to whimper at just the sight of it. And he wasn't a needy bitch. He wasn't—
Snap.
The hug of elastic from his thong popped away from his skin. A flash of black came and went in his peripheral vision. When he turned his head to look, he caught his broken thong falling over the side of the bed.
He gaped, stunned.
"You-"
The hand around his wrists was on his throat now. Flambae let out a choked gasp, anguishing that the pressure on his windpipes made him grind his bare cunt forward on Lobo's cock.
"You remember how this goes, don't ya, Hot Stuff?" Lobo moved his hips, rubbing his warm shaft onto Flambae. "You speak when spoken to, and you be a good fucktoy and call me daddy."
Flambae swallowed thickly, writhing and whimpering as Lobo frotted against him. He was disastrously wet between his legs. Trickles of his arousal withered down his hairy thighs.
"Yeah, you remember," Lobo growled, licking a thick stripe from Flambae's chin to his bottom eyelid. Flambae winced away, closing the offended eye, hopelessly rutting with Lobo's ministrations.
He bent his knees up toward himself, hooking his calves on the back of Lobo's jeans, leaving his leaking cunt accessible and ready to be taken. They didn't have protection. Flambae didn't fuck his clients. That wasn't what he worked here for.
But he had fucked Lobo once, and he wanted to do it again. So fucking badly.
"Daddy…" He breathed, lost in his need. He uttered the word with practiced desperation, because Lobo had a cock to die for, and he was quite literally the only fuck Flambae ever had that actually deserved the title.
"Fuck, I ain't even got the patience to make ya beg for it." Lobo reached down, and suddenly the heat of his cock was gone. Instead, Flambae felt the thick head kissing the entrance of his warmth, blood-warm and magnetic. "Been missin' this pussy for way too long."
Flambae's hazy eyes darkened with pure lust, his cunt clenching around nothing, pulsing against the head of Lobo's cock. Lobo had been thinking about him, and admitted it. The euphoria of that knowledge was godlike.
Gazing needily into voids of Lobo's black face markings, Flambae remembered the first time he'd seen them up close. He had assumed it was just some really, really bold makeup, and he half-hoped that he could smear it all over the man's smug face. To see him crumbling in his own architecture.To dull the lethality of those spikes. But he quickly learned that taming the essence of someone like Lobo was entirely fucking impossible.
Something about that violently turned Flambae on.
His life had become so drab and vapid. He fiended for the adrenaline. He fiended for danger.
As bad an idea as all of this was, there was no way Flambae was letting go.
So, when Lobo tightened his grip on his neck and started to sink his length into his cunt, Flambae moaned wetly and endured it. The stretch was everything he could've wanted and more, so intense that he choked on his own spit, a cough dissolving into an overwhelmed whimper. He arched into the intrusion, breathing through it, doing his best to let the immense thickness fight for space inside him.
"Damn, you're fuckin' tight, princess," Lobo chuckled breathlessly, sounding almost exasperated. "You ain't had any fun in a while, huh?"
"N- Ahh!" Flambae wanted to answer with a passionate no, but it lodged in his throat and got surpassed by a broken gasp as Lobo suddenly slammed forward, sinking in deep, their bodies connecting at his hairy hilt with a damning smack. Flambae swore he went cross-eyed. Lobo was huge. The tip of his cock had already struck Flambae's cervix, and now he wasn't so sure he was going to survive this.
But Lobo was not a patient man. He didn't preamble.
There was no ceremony about sex with him.
Lobo released Flambae's throat, using both hands to roughly grasp the meat of his buttocks. Grunting, Lobo hitched Flambae's hips a fraction off the mattress, making his canal bend around his cock, sending sparks flying wildly in his groin. It punched a filthy mewl out of him before he could suppress it, startled at the impossibility of Lobo's size. He buried his trembling hands in Lobo's giant mane, his fingers disappearing in that shaggy sea of black, desperate for an anchor, clinging to the mountain of hair like it might save him.
Nails bedded into Flambae's ass, trapping him between Lobo's fat cock and the delicious sting of pain. There would be bruises. There would be welts. But Flambae hardly gave a damn.
The first thrust made Flambae shriek. He clawed Lobo's hair, going cross-eyed, jerking with the force of Lobo's hips. A guttural snarl bled into the nerves underneath his ear, the graze of sharp teeth and rough lips making his body shudder and steam.
"Oh-hoh, yeah, that's it, princess," Lobo growled. "Scream for daddy."
The pace was incomprehensibly brutal. Lobo fucked like a dog—ruthless, quick, and chasing. Every nerve in Flambae's body was immediately on the fritz. The girth inside him bullied the tightness choking it, forcing its way toward his cervix with no pity for his cries. His world was a blur of smoke smell and abandon, fighting to keep his tongue in his mouth as Lobo railed him into the creaking spring mattress.
"You're a little temptress, you know that?" Lobo panted into his neck, his muscles rippling with every thrust. "Can't walk around with an ass like that. Eyes like yours. Got me hooked on ya. Lobo don't like being distracted, you fuckin' hear me?"
"I'm sorry, daddy," Flambae gasped, eyes rolling back behind his clenched eyelids. "I-I'm sorry!"
Lobo laughed darkly, hitching Flambae's hips up even higher.
"I should just tie you up and take you with me. Pretty thing like you, forced to be my arm-candy."
The imagery lanced through Flambae, hurtling him toward being fucked into stupidity with a galeforce. His dripping cunt throbbed around Lobo's cock, giving away his needy thoughts where his punched-out moans blocked any sort of comprehensible response. He felt Lobo's facial hair abrading against his neck as his lips split into an enthralled, shark-toothed grin.
"Yeah?" Lobo breathed. "I'd drag ya around system to system, turn ya into a sleeve."
Flambae keened and threw his head back, drool sliding down the side of his face through his teeth. His spine went from rigid to liquid, his body going limp and pliant for Lobo to use. His cock throbbed under its hood erratically as a burning pressure kindled within.
"There ya go, baby girl," Lobo huffed into his ear. "G'na fill you with half-breeds n' show everyone who ruined your fuckin' womb."
"Uhhn- ahh!"
Flambae drew in a sharp hiss and went blind. His body jolted fiercely—once, twice. Then his legs fell off of Lobo's hips, slamming back toward the mattress, his body bent where Lobo was holding his ass up as he sprayed on his cock with a high-pitched scream. He went rigid, toes curling, ruining the sheets as he let go. He was barely able to register Lobo's lewd remarks of approval, the praise muted by the ringing in his ears.
He'd come so hard he thought he might pass out, but Lobo didn't stop. He didn't stop for anyone.
He fucked Flambae into mush, gliding with ease around the mess, grunting and growling like he was at war with Flambae's walls. Beneath his head, the sheets were soaked with drool and tears. He could feel Lobo everywhere, pounding all his lawlessness into Flambae's belly, his fingertips, his throat. Dots of all colors speckled his vision, dancing in the moisture on his lashes.
He wanted Lobo to break him.
Just like the last time they fucked, Lobo didn't announce his orgasm. A true king didn't need to announce anything. Instead, the tells were there; the roiling growls in that otherworldly chamber nestled in his chest, his cock swelling to claim territory, and his pace mirroring that of a feral animal's. He squeezed Flambae's ass so fervently it went scarlet, sure to bruise, trapping Flambae's cock in a rough nest of pubic hair. The marks would be Lobo's brand, his assertion of ownership, and Flambae's trophy to take home.
Lobo seized and snarled, burying himself to the hilt in Flambae, pushing right up against his cervix. Flambae saw stars, clinging to Lobo's hair for dear life. His second orgasm teased him, faking him out until he felt Lobo's thick cum burst past where they were joining, squelching out of his overloaded cunt. He moaned brokenly, enduring wave after wave of undoing sensation, letting Lobo empty inside him, clenching obediently, like a good, mated bitch.
Lobo's size swallowed Flambae's frame whole as they lay there, a heap of muscle and sex scent. Flambae relished the feeling of cum seeping onto his skin. He knew he was filled. Ruined. It was everything he needed and more.
Large arms wrapped around his shaking body and held him tight, the cock inside him still somehow pumping him full of cum. Lobo periodically groaned, like he was experiencing blips of orgasm, and each sound came with a fresh spasm and outflow of cum. Flambae rolled with his rutting hips, working with him to bury the seed deep, whimpering softly with the slow grind.
"You're taking daddy's cum so good, princess," Lobo rumbled, breathless. "But I wanna hear a 'thank you'."
"Thank you, daddy," Flambae turned his head toward Lobo's, burying his face into his sea of shaggy hair. "K-Keep filling me up, I know you're nowhere near done."
Lobo chuckled in response, low and carnal, and it made Flambae's belly flutter with butterflies.
The rush of adrenaline was gone, but the buzz never truly left. He wondered what Lobo was thinking as his otherworldly body did what it had to do to make sure Flambae was properly bred. Did he want it to take? It was so unlikely that it would, and Flambae would rather jump off a bridge than father this man's kids.
But the thought of having Lobo that hooked on him made him feel like God.