Consequences, Apparently

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Gachiakuta (Manga), Gachiakuta (Anime)
Relationship: Zanka Nijiku/Jabber Wonger
Characters: Jabber Wonger, Zanka Nijiku
Additional Tags: Masochist Jabber Wonger (Gachiakuta), Top Jabber Wonger
(Gachiakuta), Jabber Wonger is His Own Warning (Gachiakuta), Jabber
Wonger is a Little Shit (Gachiakuta), Bottom Zanka Nijiku (Gachiakuta),
Zanka Nijiku Has a Praise Kink (Gachiakuta), Biting, Blade Licking,
Praise Kink, Zanka lost a bet, Jabber cheated in said bet, Anal Sex, Anal
Fingering, Doggy Style, cursing, Missionary Position, Creampies,
cumming inside, Sexual Overstimulation, Drugging, Drugged Sex, slight
blood, Fighting is forplay to Jabber, Zanka likes it but refuses to admit it,
Inverted Nipples, Nipple Licking, Hickeys, Bruises, light sadism?,
Masochism, Belly Bulge, Mating Press, Porn With Plot, very little plot,
its basically just porn, Insulting equals flirting, Inappropriate use of
tanktop, I need more pervy fics to read of them so I decided to write my
own., No beta reader, Choking, Hair Pulling, Scratching, jerking off, Spit
As Lube, Slick?, Them drugs be doing stuff to Zanka, Rough Sex, Jabber
thinks he's nice but his definition of nice is a bit off, Gentle Sex?, Dirty
Talk, Arguing during sex, Dubious Consent
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2026-02-15 Words: 14,854 Chapters: 1/1
 Consequences, Apparently
by Moss_eater202

Summary

I like to think Jabber can activate his vital instrument at will—he could use just one hand
normally if he wanted. He could also switch it from poison to a straight blade, depending on
the situation. These ideas are mostly for the porn plot.

I need more pervy fics to read of them so I decided to write my own. Sorry if this isn't your
cup of tea.

Notes
See the end of the work for notes
The day started off normally.

As normal as the Ground could get at least. Zanka had wanted to spend his morning slowly,
sleeping in till nine, a nice breakfast and then maybe even a little training to reward himself.

But a call had come in that morning, early that morning, a herd of trash beast near a city. So
he followed and fought.

The fight itself wasn’t too bad, he was able to finish up quickly as Riyo and Rudo had dealt
with half of the herd.

Usually he would head back with them, back to HQ. But damn, he really wanted to relax
today. His earlier morning plans were ruined by the mission. So he told Riyo he would be
back by dinner, and wanted to do a little alone time for himself. Maybe some yoga at a nice
place where the sun peaked through the dark fuming clouds.

He had this nice place he found a few months back, if he was lucky, he could get a little
warmth from the sky while he relaxed.

Assistaff in hand, he strolled to his destination. A little pep in his step as he looked forward to
his little ‘spa-day’.

It didn’t take him long to reach it, about 20 minutes out of his way, but when he got there he
visibly relaxed. Here, he could just be himself without having to put on this act around
others.

A small smile played on his lips. He was super lucky today, as right in front of the abandoned
building, in the clearing he had made for training, a few rays of sun slipped through.

Walking up to the abandoned building, his hand brushing up against the walls as he made his
way to the entrance. It was a two story building, most of the windows were still intact, and
the inside was mostly empty when he found it. But over the months he really made it
something to look forward to.

Opening the door and walking in, rubbed his eyes from the dust in the room, before flicking
the lights on.

The room didn’t light up. Huffing he stepped in further, squinting his blue eyes to get a better
look at his surroundings.

The generator he had gotten for the place was somewhat jumpy. So this wasn’t the first time
he needed to tinker with it so it would work again. He set down his lovely Assistaff against
the wall.

Crossing the room, he found his way to the back. It was supposed to be an open kitchen, but
none of the stuff worked in it, so it was really just used for storage.
The generator was snuggled up against the wall, feeling around for the familiar handle, he
pulled hard, winding up the generator. A few more tugs did the trick. The previous dark room
lighting up in the dim yellow glow he was used too. The machine letting out a gentle hum it
ran.

He straightened up, placing his hands on his lower back and stretched. He really needed to do
some yoga, he could feel the tension building up in his body.

He turned, attention to the floor as he opened a cabinet. He grabbed a flask of water that he
had stored from the last time he was there. He opened it up and took a sip. It tasted off, but he
shrugged. It was probably just stale from how long it had been sitting there. It had been a
while since he had enough free time to come to his little oasis.

Turning around, he froze. His heart picking up the pace and thumping in his chest.

“Heya Zan-Zann!”

He didn’t know how he missed him. But there, tucked in the corner of the room sat Jabber on
the edge of the bed he had. He walked right past him to get in, and didn’t sense him at all.

He reached for his staff, before the fact dawned on him, he left her against the wall at the
entrance. Fuck. His grip on the flask tightened.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” a pause, as he automatically assumed a fighting
position. “How did you even find this place?”

The man stood up, palms up as though he was surrendering already.

“Woah ease up man, I ain’t here to fight ya or anything... Nahhh I’m here for something
different, so just hear me out, yeah?”

Jabber stood at the edge of the bed, Assistaff was a few feet beside him. Fuck, just great.

Zanka glared, this is not okay. He was about 20 minutes away from the nearest city, but at
least an hour and half away from HQ. Even if he called for back up now, it would be a while
before anybody could reach him.

Jabber took Zanka’s silence as a sign to continue. Though he still kept his hands up, a sign of
good faith.

“I just wanted to propose a bet between us, ya know, spice things up, hm?” Jabber smiled at
him, but it was a bit different than usual. It seemed… Genuine?

The thought sent a shiver down Zanka’s spine. What, Jabber, being genuine? Fucking
hilarious.

Zanka almost reached for his collar, almost calling for help. But he at least needed to get his
staff in his hand before anything else. So he decided to hear him out. To stall him of course,
he wasn’t curious at all.
“What kinda bet, huh?” a glance towards Assistaff. “It’s ‘posed to be my day off, so why not
do this another day, when I actually have to beat your ass.”

A snort came from Jabber, but continued anyway. Stepping a bit closer as he spoke.

“Why not make a bet on who wins? The loser has to do what the winner wants, and I mean
anything.”

Jabber finally lowered his hands, loosely hooking his thumbs on the hem of his pockets.

“Yeah but if I did it when I was working, I’d be interrupted, and that kinda spoils the fun.
This is more of a…. Off work thing?”

Zanka took a step back, how the hell was he supposed to get past him? Though his mind was
racing, his face told a different story.

A confident smirk played at his lips as he racked his brain for escape routes.

“And why the hell would I agree to that? That’s fucking stupid, especially if I lose. You’d
probably just dose me up on some bullshit of yours and torture me. No thanks,” he spat.

Jabber shrugged his shoulders, a disappointed look in his eyes.

“Man, already thinking about how you’re gonna lose? Ya know, it’s been a struggle to win
against you lately, thought I would offer a way for both of us to get stronger…” a pause. “But
if you plan on losing already, that’s fine. Just thought you were getting better.” Jabber
continued.

“Enjin at least thinks ya getting stronger.”

Zanka was caught off guard. Enjin, the Enjin, thought he was getting stronger? He had to
force the thought out, as he could feel himself grin like an idiot.

Jabber continued. Though his smile from before was gone, replaced with this look of…
disgust. Like just talking about that tattooed man brought a sour taste to his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah.. Heard him talk about you last time. Man, does he see your potential. Even said
he thought you were finally strong enough to beat my ass, but what does he know?”

Jabber kicked a can that had found its way in from outside. The metal clattering against the
concrete floor.

Zanka couldn’t hold back, his smile spreading far across his face, eyes lit at the thought of
Enjin praising him.

“…Did he really say that?”

Zanka thought back to his and Jabber’s previous fights. He had been fighting better lately.
Most of their fights ended in ties or Jabber was forced out of the fight by that girl with the
manhole.
Maybe he was strong enough to beat Jabber’s ass.

Jabber smiled, before responding. Fiddling with his rings as if he wasn’t that interested in the
topic.

“Oh yeah, the guy wouldn’t shut up about you. Going on and on about how cool you were,
and how talented you are with that little staff of yours. Got me all curious if you could really
beat me all black, blue and bloody.”

Zanka straightened up, like he was trying to impress Enjin, even though he wasn’t there.
Overconfidence just oozing off him.

Just what Jabber wanted.

“What are the rules?” he asked, his mind now clear with one thought, he was gonna beat
Jabber’s ass today.

Hook, line and sinker.

Damn, if Jabber knew it was gonna be this easy, he would’ve done this weeks ago.

“Like I said,” he went on, humming as he spoke, rocking slightly on his heels. “We fight like
usual, and the winner gets one wish from the loser. Anything.”

He tilted his head, grin slow and knowing.

“So, for example… if you beat me and decide to drag me back to your little hideout to show
me off to ya boy Enjin?” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t fight back.”

Jabber smirked.

“Malhole girl doesn’t even know I’m here. So no backup for me.”

It sounded good, too good.

Zanka stared at him for a moment, thinking before he answered.

“That’s it?” he asked. “How you wanna decide when it’s a loss?”

Jabber tilted his head, long dreads slipping off his shoulder with the movement. He brought a
hand to his chin, putting on a show of deep thought.

“How about a tap-out?” he said at last. “If I’ve got you pinned to the ground for more than
ten seconds, I win. And vice versa, of course.”

Zanka snorted. This was way too damn easy.

Jabber went on, tone easy. “Hey, I won’t even use any of my poisons, yeah?”

That made Zanka blink.

“Yeah, right,” Zanka scoffed. “Ain’t no way you wouldn’t use your Mankira in a fight.” His
eyes narrowed. “What is it you really want?”

Jabber huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Nah, don’t twist it ZanZan.”

He lifted one hand, fingers flexing as he activated his vital instrument, the faint glint of metal
catching the light as his Mankira slid free. Clean. Bare. No sheen of poison along the edge.

“I said no poisons,” he clarified. “Not no blade.”

He rolled his wrist once, testing the weight like it was second nature. Comfortable. Familiar.

“Straight steel. Just skill,” Jabber went on, eyes bright now—alive. “Figured I'd even the
playing field."

His grin sharpened. “Besides… I’ve been bored.”

Zanka’s eyes stayed on the Mankira.

“You’re playing games,” he said.

Jabber’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it sharpened.

“Maybe.”

He shifted his fingers, the blades moving—not into a proper guard, but lower, looser. Wrong.
Deliberately so. He was relaxed.

“Alright,” Jabber said, rolling his shoulders once. “I’ll give you something.”

Zanka tensed. “Yeah? Like what?”

Jabber lifted the Mankira slightly, the edge angled away from Zanka’s throat. When did
Jabber get so close?

“First thirty seconds,” he said. “I don’t strike.”

The air went still.

“I’ll move. I’ll block. I’ll take the hits if I have to,” Jabber went on easily. “But I won’t
attack.”

His eyes gleamed, unmistakably pleased with himself.

“Gives you time to close the distance. See what I can do without going on the offensive.”

He tilted his head. “Fair, right?”

Zanka swallowed.
He stepped back, giving Zanka space this time. An invitation.

Jabber met his stare, claws still low, posture open.

“You wanted to know what I really want,” he said softly. “I want a challenge.”

His smile widened just a fraction.

“And I want that wish.”

Everything was in Zanka’s favor, and with this newfound confidence, the very idea of being
praised by the man he looked up to, man it just lit a fire in him.

The worst part of it though, was that damn smirk plastered on Jabber's face. Everything was
in his favor, so why did he seem so satisfied?

He shook his head. Steadying his thoughts. Today, today he was gonna lock the fuck in, and
beat Jabber so bad it would make up for all the other times he [Link] was no way he was
losing today.

God. He should’ve known better. Like, really.

The fight started off as normal— well, as ‘normal’ as any fight with Jabber could be. Which
was freaky. The damn bastard just wouldn’t shut up, it was worse than usual.

And what pissed him off the most? The fact that he lost to him, without him even using his
poison. He just couldn’t understand how.

At first, his confidence radiated off him like heat. The thirty-second head start Jabber had
given him had solidified that thought— he was going to win. And he had gotten Jabber good.

Busted his lip open. Pretty sure he’d cracked a rib or two. For thirty glorious seconds, he had
the upper hand. He was almost proud, imagining Enjin’s face when he bragged about how
fast he’d landed hits on Jabber.

But then the thirty seconds ended. And just like that, it all fell apart.
Jabber didn’t rush him. He didn’t need to. He let Zanka make the first mistake, then pounced,
hitting exactly where it hurt. Every move Zanka tried to set up was anticipated, countered,
and punished. A punch to the shoulder—blocked. A feint to the ribs—countered with a jab
straight to his gut. Every strike slowed him down, every block cost him energy he didn’t have
to spare. He was covered in tiny gashes, deep enough to hurt but not enough to really bleed.

And the taunting… God, the taunting. Jabber’s words were constant, grinding into him with
every hit. It was much worse than usual.

“C’mon, Zanka—focus.”

“Thought you wanted to beat my ass, yeah?”

“Fuck man, don't look at me like that, I'll get hard ya know.”

Every word was perfectly timed, every line designed to throw him off, to make him second-
guess himself mid-move, to embarrass him just enough to find a opening. Zanka’s frustration
boiled over with every cut Jabber landed and every smug grin he flashed.

Panic crept in anyway. Low at first, curling in his stomach before climbing into his chest.
He’d been confident–so fucking confident– moments ago. Now he couldn’t find an opening.

He was off-balance, not enough to stumble, just enough that his body lagged behind his
intent. Every strike came a fraction too late, glancing off or being turned aside. He’d been
fine when he was still– breathing, watching– but the moment he started to move, really move,
it set in.

His vision blurred whenever he pushed too fast, the edges of the world smearing until he had
to blink hard to bring it back into focus. A wider swing of his staff made him shift his footing
afterward, a small correction he didn’t remember deciding to make. His grip tightened on
instinct, knuckles whitening before he noticed.

Each step felt heavier than the last, draining– like his strength was leaking out in small,
unnoticed increments. Jabber knew his limits, his aches, his patterns– every damn weakness
he thought he’d hidden. And he was exploiting them mercilessly.

Zanka’s breathing grew shallow without him meaning it to, each inhale edged with anger and
disbelief. He’d felt fine before the fight. Great, even. But the moment the fight really started,
it's just like his body just didn't want to continue.

He should’ve gone to bed early. He should’ve eaten breakfast. He should’ve done anything
differently. But he didn’t. And now… he was staring down at the fact that their fight didn’t
even last long.

Thirty, maybe forty-five minutes. At first, he’d been counting, almost proud, imagining the
look on Enjin’s face when he told him how fast he’d beaten Jabber. But now… all that pride
just felt like ash in his mouth.

He lost. And Jabber wasn’t even tired.

Zanka lay sprawled on the ground, chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes. Jabber was sitting
on his back, one arm twisted behind him, the pressure building until it felt like his shoulder
would rip from its socket. Every muscle screamed in protest, every nerve on fire.

“Tap out,” Jabber said casually, like he wasn’t crushing him into the floor.

Zanka gritted his teeth, trying to endure, trying to find some ounce of pride to hold onto. But
the pain was relentless, sharp enough to blur his thoughts. He struggled for another five
agonizing minutes, every second feeling longer than the last, before he finally gave in. He
just felt so drained.

He tapped out, reluctantly.

The relief was immediate– and humiliating. Jabber eased the pressure slightly, a smug grin on
his face, like Zanka had just proven exactly what he already knew.

It hurt. It hurt more than he cared to admit. And worse, the realization sank in: he hadn’t even
come close to winning. Not once.

Jabber still sat on his back, his palms pressing into the blades of his shoulders, keeping him
pinned and powerless. Zanka’s muscles screamed in protest, every nerve on fire, but Jabber
made no move to release him. His hands began to slide slowly down Zanka’s back,
deliberate, like he was savoring every second of the control.

Finally, Jabber broke the humiliating silence.

“You thought that little head start would help, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, almost
casual. “It was kinda cute watching you try so hard.”

Zanka clenched his jaw, refusing to answer, but the sting of defeat burned hotter than the pain
in his shoulders. Jabber’s grin widened.

“It’s almost sad how confident you were at first,” he said, fingers tracing the rigid line of
Zanka’s spine. “But hey– I won fair and square, right?”

The words hit harder than any blow. Zanka tried to push, to twist away, to say something–
anything– but his body didn’t answer. He was pinned beneath Jabber, held there with
effortless certainty, reduced to enduring the weight of that smug satisfaction.

Then Jabber stood.

He planted his feet on either side of Zanka’s waist and bent down, arms hooking around him
before lifting him with disconcerting ease. Zanka’s stomach lurched as he was hauled up and
tipped over Jabber’s shoulder.

Jabber adjusted his grip once, hands settling on Zanka’s thighs—higher than comfortable,
though that barely registered over everything else.

He hummed as he carried him back toward the hideout, nudging a box aside with his foot as
he crossed the concrete floor like Zanka weighed nothing at all.
“Hey,” Jabber said lightly, “remember the rules. You can’t back out– no matter what, kay?”

Before Zanka could even open his mouth, Jabber hoisted him up and tossed him backward
onto the bed he’d been sitting on earlier. The sudden motion knocked the air from his lungs,
the room tilting as he hit the mattress. His vision skewed sideways for a moment, slow to
right itself against the softness beneath him.

He lay there for a second longer than he meant to, waiting for the ceiling to stop drifting. The
mattress dipped in between his legs before he could gather himself, the shift subtle but
unmistakable.

Jabber loomed into his line of sight, his dreads framing both their faces, blocking out the
light. He didn’t rush. Didn’t need to.

“Careful,” he murmured, almost amused.

Zanka tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the effort came out sloppy, his arm slipping
against the sheets before he managed to steady it. His breath hitched– more irritation than
pain– and he clenched his jaw, refusing to look away.

Jabber noticed anyway. He always did.

He reached out, pressing Zanka back down with a hand to his shoulder– not hard, just firm
enough to remind him how little room he had. Zanka’s muscles tensed on instinct, then
hesitated, as if unsure which command to follow first. His body just felt so tired, though
mentally he was still sharp.

“Still with me?” Jabber asked lightly.

The question shouldn’t have rattled him. It did.

Zanka swallowed, breath still uneven, the mattress warm beneath him and far too soft to push
against. He could feel the delay in his own movements now– the space between thought and
action stretching just a fraction too long.

Jabber straightened, satisfied, eyes tracking every small adjustment Zanka made like he was
taking notes.

“Good,” he said. “Then don’t pass out on me yet. You owe me that wish, yeah?”

Zanka drew in a breath, then another, waiting for his vision to settle enough to focus on
Jabber’s face. His throat felt dry when he finally spoke.

“So,” he said, the word coming out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat and tried
again. “What’s your wish?”

Jabber’s smile flickered– small, sharp, like he’d been waiting for that.

“Straight to the point,” he said, amused. “Even now.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched Zanka for a moment longer, eyes tracking the way
his chest rose and fell, the way he stayed still like moving might cost him something.

“You’re sure you want to know?” Jabber asked lightly.

Zanka’s jaw tightened. He nodded once, voice caught somewhere between defiance and
exhaustion.

“Huh,” Jabber said, tilting his head. “You know… it’d be easier if I just showed you.”

Before Zanka could react, Jabber shifted, hands gripping him at the shoulders and waist. With
a swift motion, he flipped Zanka onto his stomach, the mattress giving under his weight as he
landed. The sudden change made his head spin, breath hitching as he pressed his face into the
sheets.

Jabber chuckled softly behind him, voice low and teasing. “See? Much simpler than all that
talking, don’t you think?”

Jabber’s hands pressed against his back again– mirroring the way he’d pinned him earlier,
only this time the touch was softer. Gentle. He hooked a finger beneath the hem of Zanka’s
shirt, knuckles brushing bare skin before his palms settled fully against the small of his back.

The warmth of his hands was stark against Zanka’s cooler skin, unfamiliar enough to send a
shiver rippling up his spine.

Jabber had him straddled, and Zanka wasn’t a fucking idiot. The intent was obvious.
Heat crept up his neck anyway, a flush he hated that Jabber would definitely notice. He
shifted beneath him, trying to brace on his arms and push himself up. He might’ve lost the
fight– but this? This felt like it crossed the line from a joke to something else.

Jabber adjusted with him, easy, deliberate. His left hand slid up and pressed Zanka back into
the mattress like it was nothing. His right hand brushed the hem of Zanka’s underwear, slow
enough to be unmistakable.

“Hey,” Jabber said lightly, almost amused. “My wish. I won fair and square.” A grin tugged
at his mouth as he leaned closer. “Unless you’re backing out because you’re a sore loser– lost
the game and can’t handle the consequences?”

Zanka huffed, jaw tightening. The reminder stung his pride more than anything. He shut his
eyes, exhaling through his nose. Might as well grit his teeth and get it over with.

Zanka scoffed, eyes still shut, jaw set hard. “Yeah. Congrats. You won.” The words came out
flat, edged with irritation. “So just get it over with.”

He shifted beneath him, not fighting anymore– but not giving in either. “If you’re waiting for
me to react, or beg, or whatever fantasy you’ve got in your head,” Zanka said, voice flat, dry,
“don’t bother. Ain’t nothing you can do that’ll bother me. I’m used to your bullshit.”

Jabber tilted his head, grin sharp. “Oh, I know you think that,” he murmured, hands still
pressing against Zanka’s back. “But you’re lying to yourself if you think I can’t get a rise out
of you.”

He shifted closer, letting his knee nudge between Zanka’s legs just slightly—not enough to
force anything, just enough to test him. His fingers traced a lazy line along the small of
Zanka’s back, brushing over sensitive spots he knew would make him flinch.

Zanka’s jaw clenched. “Stop… messing around,” he muttered, but the tension in his
shoulders betrayed him. He flinched just a fraction, and Jabber caught it instantly.

“That’s it,” Jabber said softly, amusement in his voice. “Little cracks… that’s all I need. It’s
my day off, remember? I have all day with you.”

Jabber’s hand went to the hem of Zanka’s pants, tugging them off before he could protest.
Zanka froze, the air hitting his skin. He was still in his underwear, but the sudden loss of
fabric made him tense. The idea of what was happening really set in. It’s fine, he told
himself. He’ll get bored of this soon.

Jabber hummed, shifting his weight so it was easier for him to get Zanka’s pants off fully
with his right hand. His left hand, still pressed into his shoulder, eased up slightly, his palm
gliding to the back of his neck, thumb brushing against skin as he took him in.

“Damn… nice ass, man,” he murmured. His fingers slid under the underwear, the thin fabric
slipping down as his hand explored the skin underneath. “Your baggy pants hide all of this–
it’s a shame, really.”

Zanka huffed. Just wait him out, don’t react.

Jabber grinned, finally tugging at his underwear—or at least attempting to. His underwear
was more form-fitting than his pants, so he decided to just cut them off instead of spending
the time trying to remove them properly. Activating Mankira, his claw hooked the fabric,
immediately ripping it apart, revealing the plump butt underneath.

Zanka’s breath hitched. The hand on his neck activated as well, the blades slipping out of thin
air like a cat’s claw, digging into the mattress, effectively pinning his head down. Still no
poison, he thought.

A low hum escaped him as he deactivated his right hand. Though he kept his left hand active.
His free hand groped Zanka's ass, his thumb dipping down in between his flesh before pulling
the skin back, effectively spreading him apart. A low whistle, what a view.

Zanka shifted slightly, trying to press his face into the mattress, an attempt to hide the
embarrassment on his face.

“You’re ridiculous… just stop already.” He muttered.

Jabber chuckled low, not slowing. “Stop? Me? Oh no… this is just getting interesting.”

“Interesting? You’re insane,” Zanka shot back, voice sharp, though it wavered ever so
slightly. His fingers dug into the sheets, trying to anchor himself, trying to feel in control.
Jabber leaned closer, his grin wicked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Insane, sure. But look
at you… all tense, all wound up. You’re not bored, are you?”

Zanka groaned, the sound betraying him despite his words. “I said… stop messing around,”
he spat, but his body twitched involuntarily at the touch.

Jabber hummed, pressing just a fraction closer, letting his thumb tease slowly. “Dont get
embarrassed on me now, the funs just starting!”

Zanka’s teeth ground together, and he pressed his face harder into the mattress, muttering
bitterly, “You’re impossible…”

He leaned back slightly, taking in the view. Zanka’s once-pale skin was now a soft, warm
pink. Jabber’s hand lingered on the curve of his ass, squeezing lightly.

“Hey lift your ass up for me, yeah?”

Zanka stayed silent, face pressed into the mattress, trying his best to keep a straight face. No
reaction, he told himself.

Jabber hummed and with a fluid motion, he hooked his right arm under Zanka’s hips and
lifted, guiding him forward. He shifted Zanka’s legs, making sure he was properly propped
up on his knees. “There,” he said softly, smug, “that’s better.”

Zanka shifted as much as he could, neck pinned by Mankira, the blades catching his attention
with every tiny movement. In nothing but the top part of his uniform, ass up and spread for
Jabber, he felt completely exposed.

Jabber’s gaze lingered, a slow, approving lick of his lips at the view. His hand pressed lightly
against Zanka, thumb brushing over him teasingly.

“Hey,” Jabber said, leaning slightly to the side so Zanka could actually see him, grin sharp,
“ya got any lube up in this place?”

Zanka’s eyes snapped toward him, cheeks heating. “Why the fuck would I have that? I don’t
do freaky shit,” he snapped, voice sharp– but his body betrayed him, stiffening anyway.

Jabber’s grin widened, amused. “Oh, right… of course. Totally normal. Sure.” His tone was
dripping with teasing disbelief, enjoying every second of Zanka’s flustered, defensive
reaction.

Jabber leaned back slightly, eyes locked on Zanka, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Slowly, deliberately, he parted his lips and stuck his tongue out. A thick droplet of spit
formed and hung for a moment before dripping down– landing squarely on Zanka’s exposed
ass.

Zanka froze, face pressed into the mattress, jaw tight, cheeks burning. “What the fuck-” he
hissed, trying to squirm, trying to hide, but the position Jabber had him in left him helpless.
Jabber chuckled low, hand lingering possessively. “Well,” he murmured, voice teasing,
“looks like we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got, huh?”

Zanka growled under his breath, muttering bitterly, “Just hurry up and get this over with.”

Jabber didn’t respond. Man, Zanka really wanted this over quick, huh? Too bad. He had
plans, and they were going to take time– his time.

With a single wordless motion, Jabber pressed his middle finger to Zanka’s entrance, then
pushed in swiftly, stopping at the base of his silver ring.

Zanka’s body stiffened, a sharp intake of breath betraying him despite himself.

Jabber lingered there for a moment, letting Zanka adjust– or rather, letting him not adjust.
Every small twitch, every shiver, was like a thrill to him.

“You’re so tense,” Jabber murmured, voice low, teasing. “All wound up, pretending this
doesn’t affect you… it's such a turn on, ya know.”

Zanka pressed his face harder into the mattress, muttering, “Shut up… just… get on with it.”

Jabber didn’t rush. He circled his thumb slowly, brushing along the sensitive edge, testing
him, savoring the tiny involuntary flinches Zanka couldn’t hide.

“You should really stop acting like you hate this. I’ve seen the way you moan my name when
you’re getting your rocks off after our fights.”

A pause, deliberate.

“Can’t lie—it was hard holding back this long.”

Zanka tensed, fists gripping the sheets, jaw tight, but the flush creeping up his neck and the
involuntary shiver running down his spine betrayed him completely. Just how long had he
been lurking around here?

Jabber withdrew slowly, watching the way Zanka’s body reacted even to the absence. He
didn’t speak. Just pressed back in, steady and controlled.

Zanka arched with a sharp inhale, hips jerking before he could stop himself.

He tried so hard to keep his moans to himself, Jabber could tell. But they slipped out
anyways, though he didn't know if Zanka knew that.

He quickened his finger, curling slightly, looking for his goal. It didn't take him long,
pressing up against his prostate, making Zanka almost reel his head back, forgetting for a
second the blades holding him down.

Zanka was struggling, and as cute as he was biting back all these little noises, jabber didn't
want him to be in pain.
“Hey stop tightening up, your gonna hurt yourself"

A strangled moan slipped out of Zanka, his face scrunched up in this pleasure he was trying
to fight.

“H-how bout you take it out, asswipe?” a gasp, “Feels like shit”

Jabber laughed, he loved that even though he had complete control, Zanka still found a way
to fight back. He quickened his pace, shoving in a second finger in between thrust. The new
digit spreading out Zanka further.

Jabber glanced down, before shoving his fingers in as deep as he possibly could.

His gaze lingered, deliberate, unashamed.

“Your body’s not backing up all that attitude,” he said quietly.

A small tilt of his head.

“Still feel like ‘shit,’ ZanZan?”

Zanka’s body was trembling, hips jerking involuntarily as Jabber’s fingers moved deeper,
curling just right against that hidden spot. Every press, every stretch, sent shocks through him
that made him gasp, clench, then gasp again, caught between resisting and surrendering.

“C’mon… stop trying to fight me,” Jabber murmured, low and teasing, letting his fingers
linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The cold silver of his rings pressed against
Zanka’s heated skin, every touch a sharp contrast that made him shiver uncontrollably. “Just
admit you love me finger fucking you like this”

Zanka’s hands scrabbled against the sheets, trying to pull back, trying to get a moment of
relief, but Jabber only adjusted his grip, pressing in deeper, curling, exploring. Zanka refused
to answer him.

Jabber leaned over him, tightening his hold at Zanka’s neck as he bent down, lips dragging
along his spine before biting and sucking hard, dark marks blooming across Zanka’s back.

The sensation of teeth against skin forced out a new strand of cussing and moans. It hurt, but
the pleasure was forcing the pain to the side.

At this point, Zanka couldn't hold his voice back, lashes wet with tears, he tried his best to
regain some control.

“Christ—” Zanka choked, the sharp sting ripping a sound out of him. He sucked in a breath,
forcing it into something like a laugh.

“…I can barely even f-feel it,” he shot back. “So you might as well just stop, it's- ah-
embarrassing fer ya.”
A shiver betrayed him mid-sentence, but he pressed on. “…Seriously… this is just pathetic-
ah- I feel sorry.. for you” biting his lips, he closed his eyes as he tried his best to focus.
“What, your skills are so bad- you, you had to win a bet just to get some ass?”

His hips jerked anyway, and he hissed, teeth clenched. Zanka was too proud to admit
anything, but he was good at shit talking. So that's what he did. Even as his body betrayed
him, trembling and gasping, Zanka’s defiance cut deeper than his moans ever could.

Jabber smiled, eyes glinting.

He pressed harder, relentlessly. He pushed the third finger in, stretching Zanka fully. Back
arched violently, breath broken, body trembling, cock twitching hot and betraying him
completely.

“Look at you,” Jabber murmured, voice low and cruel, letting out a laugh. “Almost had me…
and all this whining—might as well be dirty talk, because it’s definitely doing something for
me.”

He pushed harder, aiming to make this orgasm sting.

“Tell me how much I suck, yeah?

Zanka wasn't given a chance to fight back, his orgasm hit hard and without warning. It
wracked his body like a wave, thick hot streams of cum hitting the sheets, though jabber
didn't stop, his fingers milking everything out of him. Only when Zanka's eyes were half
lidded, tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting the sheet under his face did he slow down.
Fuck, he was wrecked.

Jabber took his fingers out, slick with Zanka's wetness, before grabbing the back of his shirt
and wiping it off on his uniform.

“Sure seems like you hated it, yeah?”

Zanka was fucked out, chest heaving from his rough orgasm, his back ached from the
position, but Jabbers clawed hand still held him down.

Before Zanka could even catch his breath, he heard the rustle of fabric before he felt
something press against him.

He craned his head, as much as he could anyways, the silver blade pressing into his cheek as
he tried to get a look at what was happening behind him.

Jabber’s focus was on Zanka’s ass, face heavy with heat, biting his lip as he took in the sight.
He let out a small laugh, eyes flicking up to Zanka as he grounded his cock against him.

“Hey, got any more insults for me? C’mon, give me all you’ve got. I wanna hear it all.”

And without warning, Jabber pushed in, the tip of his cock slipping hurriedly inside Zanka’s
ass. A sharp, pained groan ripped from Zanka’s throat. Jabber’s right hand gripped his ass,
spreading him to make it easier to slide in.
“Relax,” Jabber murmured, gripping Zanka’s hips tightly. “Just… let me.” He buckled his
hip, pushing an inch further. “Go deeper..”

Before Zanka could even catch his breath, Jabber pressed in further, shallow at first, eliciting
another sharp, pained groan. Zanka’s eyes went wide, chest heaving, and he instinctively tried
to pull back, raising a trembling hand to tap out.

“Fuck…” Jabber muttered, voice low, amused. “All that work I did to loosen you up, and
you’re still fucking tight.”

“Hey—hey!” Zanka gasped, arms grasping at Jabber’s leg, desperate to grab anything to stop
him, even for a second. “Fuck—pull out—you bastard!-”

Jabber snorted, running his right hand down his back, pushing the fabric further down to his
shoulders. He didn't slow down.

Instead, a wet pop, as he pulled out before pushing right back in. Not giving Zanka time to
breathe.

Jabber sank slowly, inch by inch, until he was about halfway in. Zanka’s body tensed
violently, hips jerking, chest heaving, every nerve screaming. His hands scrabbled at the
sheets, then tried to gain purchase against Jabber’s thigh, desperate to get any leverage.

“J-Jabber… wait… please—fuck—don’t—” Zanka gasped, voice cracking, each word a

shuddering plea. His pride struggled against the sensation, but his body betrayed him
completely. “…I-I can’t… its too much…fuck-”

Jabber paused, frozen for just a heartbeat, feeling the absolute tightness of Zanka’s ass, the
tremble in his limbs, the raggedness of his breath. A grin tugged at his lips, but it softened
slightly.

“Oh…” he murmured, voice low, almost gentle amid the teasing. “So this… this really is
your limit.”

Zanka whimpered, back arching, teeth clenched. “…I’m serious—Jabber… please… wait…”
His voice was desperate now, almost pleading, the fight in it cracking as his body threatened
to betray him entirely under the pain.

Jabber hummed softly, then pulled out. The sudden relief hit Zanka like a wave, only to be
snatched away just as quickly. Jabber didn’t push in any deeper, but he swayed his hips,
moving in and out with shallow thrusts—two, maybe three inches at most.

He was too tight to take him all the way in. Each shallow push drove Zanka closer to the
edge, every inch a careful, deliberate tease, forcing him to struggle against the overwhelming
pleasure while Jabber maintained total control.

But that's okay, he had planned for this.

Jabber flexed the fingers of his left hand, the one pinning Zanka firmly against the mattress.
A light pink liquid dripped down the edges of his silver rings, glinting in the dim light as it
trickled down his blades. Zanka’s eyes widened, chest heaving from the overstimulation, but
he didn’t dare pull back—Jabber’s grip was absolute.

“Look at that,” Jabber murmured, voice low and teasing, watching Zanka squirm under him.
“A little gift… just for you.” He tilted the blade, letting the pink liquid glisten against the
silver, then pressed it lightly against Zanka’s flushed cheek.

Zanka’s lips parted, a shiver running down his spine. “W-what—”

“Lick it,” Jabber commanded, voice calm but dark, the kind that brooked no argument. “It’s a
little something I made just for you. Nothing deadly… just… helps. Makes everything feel
better.”

Zanka’s chest rose and fell rapidly, mind spinning. His pride screamed to resist, to refuse, but
his body betrayed him, slick and trembling under Jabber’s slow, deliberate thrusts.

Jabber swayed his hips carefully, shallow but unrelenting, each inch pushing Zanka further
while the pink liquid glimmered between them. “Come on,” he murmured, smirking, “You
want me to help you, don’t you? Just taste it, just a little. It'll help you a whole lot.”

Zanka’s fingers scrabbled weakly at the sheets, his lips twitching as he fought against the
words—and the sensation—but the promise of it helping with the pain and the teasing weight
of Jabber’s control was impossible to resist.

Zanka didn't know what took over him, but despite the voice in the back of head, screaming
don't do it, he didn't listen.

He parted his lips, before sliding out his tongue and pressing it against the slick metal.
Careful not to catch the sharp edge of the blade, and licked. This slow and hesitant motion.

The pink liquid spreading against his tongue, warm, was his first thought. It tasted slightly…
sweet?

His tongue flicked up, tenderly tracing the side of the blade before retreating back to his
mouth. He closed his eyes as he realized just what he did. Why did he do that?

Jabber shifted. The weight on Zanka's neck lifting with him. He deactivated his rings, and
instead ran his now free hand up Zanka's exposed back, thumb pressing into the bites and
hickeys he left before.

“Fuck that was hot…” a pause, "didn't think you'd actually lick it, but hey.. I ain't
complaining.”

Zanka kept his eyes closed, the sudden weight off his neck gave him room to really breathe.
Fuck he was burning up. He could feel himself over heat, it was crawling up his skin, this
insistent heat made his stomach feel weird.

Jabber had slowed down to a stop. Really letting let the poison set in. Keeping his hands busy
with groping and grabbing at his back and ass.
“Hey, how's it feeling? Spend weeks working on that one for ya, you starting to feel warm
yet?” a gentle hum as he continues. “How's the taste?”

Zanka grunted, before shakily propping himself up, burying his head into his forearm, trying
to steady himself.

He couldn't deny, he felt hot. This warm fuzzy feeling coursing through his body as this heat
built up in his lower stomach. And he could feel this unbearable itch in his skin, it felt as
though it were burning in need.

“Cant even… feel it” he huffed, trying to keep up this defiant facade.

Jabber laughed, loud and half way in amusement. “Should I give you another lick then?” he
buckled his hips, starting his movements once more. Wet sounds squelching in the quiet room
as he worked himself in and out.

“Supposed to make your body relax, a bit different than my usual ones, yeah?” Jabber's hand
reached out, fingers tangling with the back of Zanka's hair, before tugging his head back to
look at his face. A soft laugh left him as he saw just how messed up Zanka was.

“Cant feel it my ass, you sure look like you're having a good time. I'm kinda jealous…”

His face was flushed pink, eyes unfocused, as his face scrunched up at every movement.

Zanka tried to pull himself together again—and this time, his body didn’t answer the way it
should have.

His arms shook, strength stuttering out in uneven bursts, like his muscles couldn’t decide
whether to hold or give. The tension he relied on, the constant coil of readiness, felt… muted.
Softened. When he braced himself, it was sluggish, delayed, like pushing through warm
water.

His breath came out slow and wrong.

“…’M not,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jabber. He forced his shoulders to square,
jaw locking as he tried to summon that familiar edge. Anger usually snapped him back into
place. Pain did too. This—whatever this was—just kept smoothing everything down.

Zanka clenched his teeth as another wave of heat rolled through him, heavy instead of sharp,
sinking into his limbs and making them feel loose, pliant. His posture sagged before he could
stop it, his body fully relaxing into the mattress. The realization hit a second later—and that
scared him more than the sensation itself.

“…Stop watching me,” Zanka snapped, though even that came out strained, breath hitching
at the end.

Jabber laughed under his breath. “Hard not to,” he said. “You’re doing this thing…see?” His
tone stayed light, almost conversational as his fingers trailed down his back. “Your body’s
giving up before you do.”
Zanka hated how right it felt. Every time he tried to tense, to pull back, the effort fizzled
halfway through. Making resistance feel like wasted energy.

He swallowed, throat working. “It’s-” He stopped, breathing through it. “It’s messing with
my reflexes.”

“Mhm,” Jabber agreed easily. “Relaxant base. Takes the edge off. Makes everything…
cooperative.” A pause. “You’re still fighting it, though. I can tell.”

Jabber’s grin deepened as he moved closer. “Let’s see how you hold up,” he murmured,
sliding his arms around Zanka’s chest. There was a soft pressure as he hooked them, firm but
not forceful—enough that Zanka couldn’t pull away.

Before Zanka could protest, Jabber shifted, pulling him up against his own chest. The
movement was smooth, deliberate, and Zanka’s body obeyed before his mind could catch up.
Both of them ended up propped on their knees, Zanka's back flush against Jabber, and the
difference in control was stark.

Zanka froze, trying to straighten, to find leverage—but his muscles betrayed him again, pliant
and slow to respond. Heat pooled low in his stomach, buzzing under his skin, making every
slight touch feel amplified.

“You feel that?” Jabber murmured, resting his chin near Zanka’s shoulder. “Dont worry, it
won't get any worse from here. It's fast acting, and it fades fast. But by the time it fades out,”
he said with a sharp thrust of his hips, “We won't need it no more. It's really just to help ya
relax.”

Jabber kept an arm wrapped around Zanka's torso, while his left hand roamed his chest,
pressing against fabric before trailing down to his hips. Fingers pressing into the soft skin of
his stomach.

Zanka had to admit, it did help with pain. Though it amped up everything else he was feeling.
His skin was burning, and it prickled with every touch, every breath from Jabber. But he
would never admit that, especially right now.

He grunted, weakly hooking his hands on Jabber's forearm, trying to steady himself. Shifting
his hip forward, trying to get some relief from it all. His thighs were damp, almost slick with
wetness.

He looked down, not really seeing anything other than his lower abdomen and dick bobbing
in the air.

Jabber nuzzled into his neck, pulling the fabric away with his teeth as he spoke into the curve
of his neck. “That's a nice side effect, gets you all wet for me, makes it easier on you, yeah?”

Zanka bit his lip, trying to hide his embarrassment. It made sense at least, there was no way
he would be so wet with just Jabbers spit. He could feel himself dripping, slick sliding down
his thighs as Jabber rocked slightly.
He turned his head, refusing to acknowledge Jabber's comments.

Jabber took it as a sign to start. He bit down, teeth piercing skin just enough to hurt, before
sucking at the skin. His left hand stopped its gentle teasing, before locking in place at his
hips.

He pushed in deeper, now at the point where Zanka had tapped out from the first attempt,
before slipping in more. His dick pushing into Zanka, slow and deliberate, making sure to
take his time with him.

The poison was doing its job, Jabber was glad it was working so well too. It was so easy to
just push in deeper, soft groans and muffled moans slipping out of the man in his grasp as he
went deeper and deeper until he couldn't.

His hips were flushed against his ass, he paused, biting into the soft skin again, before pulling
away and pushing in gently, this time in one go.

Zanka didn't make a sound, instead he kept his eyes wired shut, biting his bottom lip trying to
focus on anything else. Yoga, training, Assistaff-

His thought was cut off by Jabber slamming his hips forward, the harsh thrust forcing a
strangled gasp out of him.

“Hey, focus.” he groaned. “I’m tryna go easy on ya here.. Least ya could do is let me hear ya”

Zanka groaned, vision swimming from the sudden movement. “E-easier said than done…”
He leaned his head back, resting on Jabber’s collarbone, eyes half-lidded, staring at the
ceiling as he tried to stop his body from reacting.

“All you’re doing is moving—fuck—like a dog in heat,” a strangled laugh escaped him.
“And b-biting me like one too.” His voice trembled as he tried to insult Jabber while his body
betrayed him. “S-Sure… you have size, but— shit—no skill.”

Jabber laughed softly, low and amused, letting the sound wash over Zanka. “A dog in heat,
huh?” he murmured, tilting his head.

“Fine I'll fuck you proper then, yeah?”

Before Zanka could even react, Jabber pulled out roughly before slamming back in. Stars
prickled his vision, a strangled yell-moan tearing from his throat as he clawed at Jabber’s
arm.

Jabber didn’t stop either, tightening his grip on him as he fucked him mercilessly— shoving
in deep, only to pull away just as quickly.

Zanka couldn’t hold his noises back, moaning and gasping like his life depended on it. His
nails dug into Jabber’s arm, scratching hard enough to break skin. His eyes rolled back
slightly as he struggled to keep up with the sudden change of pace.
Jabber went back to his neck, his earlier bites turning fierce as he sank his teeth deep, licking
the blood and sweat before moving to another patch of pale skin, gnawing on him like he was
starving for him.

His left hand shifted, fingers digging into Zanka’s hip before finding their way to his lower
stomach, pressing hard against the soft muscle there.

The bites trailed up his neck, all the way to his jaw and ear. He stayed there, licking and
groaning obscene things into his ear.

“S-shit—don’t press—ah!” Zanka’s body jerked, trying to curl in on itself, but the arm around
his torso held him fast. Tears streamed down his face, hot and uncontrolled from the
overstimulation.

Jabber didn’t ease up— if anything, he pressed harder, tilting his head to lick the side of
Zanka’s face, tasting the salty tears as his thrusts sped up.

He couldn’t hold it. Every muscle locked, toes curling, body convulsing as the orgasm ripped
through him, leaving him trembling and gasping, thick ribbons of cum hitting the mattress as
he cried out.

Jabber groaned, the sight of Zanka cumming really did something to him. His movements
became erratic as he felt himself get close, slamming in as hard as he possibly could, chasing
his release.

It didnt take long, he let out a low groan, pressing his hips against Zankas ass, pressing and
grinding as rough as he possible could as he shot his load in him. He rode his orgasm out, not
stopping his frantic humping till he was done cumming.

The room was filled with ragged gasps, shudders, and the raw, almost chaotic sounds of skin
slapping skin as Jabber slowed to a stop.

His grip loosened on Zanka, pulling his hips away pulling his dick out with a loud wet pop,
before letting go of Zanka. Letting him hit the mattress face-first. He stayed in his position,
towering over Zanka as he took in the sight.

“Fucking dick..” Zanka gasped, chest heaving as he tried to even his breathing. It was over,
thank god.

Jabber’s laughter faded into a quiet exhale as he leaned over him, slower now, deliberate. One
hand came down to the mattress near Zanka’s shoulder, close enough to feel like an anchor.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice soft, almost soothing. “Breathe man.”

His fingers brushed Zanka’s hair back from his face, careful, unhurried—an intimate gesture
that didn’t belong here at all. Like he was checking on him. Like he cared.

“You did good,” Jabber said gently, thumb tracing a lazy line along his neck. “I know that
was a lot.”
The praise slipped off his tongue naturally — practiced, effortless.

Zanka hated that he loved it.

Hated the way his chest tightened, the way his body leaned into the touch before his pride
could stop it. Hated that after everything, that was what made his throat burn.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself still, like defiance alone could erase the reaction.

Jabber smiled at the silence.

“Ready for round two?” he asked.

Zanka froze.

For a split second, his brain refused to catch up — the words didn’t make sense, not after the
pause, not after the softness. He’d thought… he’d really thought it was over.

His body reacted before he could stop it. He flinched hard, shoulders curling in as he sucked
in a sharp breath, palms scrambling uselessly against the sheets to push himself up.

“-wait,” he rasped, voice breaking despite himself. Everything hurts. He was wrung out,
overstimulated, running on fumes and stubbornness alone.

Jabber felt it — the sudden tension, the way Zanka’s breathing went shallow and fast beneath
his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

“Oh,” Jabber said quietly, almost surprised.

His thumb stilled at Zanka’s neck, pressure light but inescapable.

“You thought we were done.”

Not a question.

He leaned closer, voice soft again — gentler than it had any right to be.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Easy… I know you’re tired.”

A beat. Long enough for hope to flicker.

Then, warm and certain:

“But don’t worry,” he said, lips brushing near Zanka’s ear. “I’ll take care of you… real
good.”

Before Zanka could even blink, Jabber’s hands were on him—firm, unrelenting—rolling him
onto his back and sliding between his thighs, effectively pinning him down.
Zanka’s vision spun slightly, though not as badly as before. The poison really did fade fast—
Jabber hadn’t lied. He could feel his body get lighter, though his skin felt this heat wash over
his body. He lifted his gaze, finally getting a real look at the man above him.

But he quickly turned away. Jabber had him caged, dark skin glistening with sweat from
their… workout, muscles taut, every inch of him ready to go again. His cock throbbed, hard
and wet, demanding attention.

Jabber grinned, leaning so close their noses almost touched. One hand came up, tilting
Zanka’s face, forcing him to meet his dark, hot pink eyes.

“Stick your tongue out for me,” he murmured, soft and coaxing, yet every ounce of his grip
screamed ownership.

Zanka hesitated, heart hammering, cheeks heating under Jabber’s gaze. Every instinct told
him to pull back—but the firm weight of Jabber pinning him down left no room for escape.

Jabber’s grin widened, soft and almost playful. “Come on… don’t be shy,” he murmured,
thumb brushing along Zanka’s lower lip, gentle enough to make him shiver. “Just a little
taste. For me.”

Zanka’s tongue twitched against his will, drawn out as if by gravity, and Jabber’s eyes
darkened with satisfaction. The hand holding his face didn’t relax, tilting him just enough to
keep every movement under Jabber’s control.

“Good boy,” Jabber whispered, voice warm, almost indulgent— before he leaned in, sucking
on his tongue, pushing his own in as he made out with Zanka.

It went from soft to something different. Hungry almost. Teeth hitting teeth, Jabber was
insistent, he could feel Zanka struggling to breathe under him. He continued on, only pulling
back when he felt hands push agsint his chest.

A thin string of saliva held them together, before Jabber licked his lips. Savoring the taste of
him.

Zanka layed there, drool on his chin as he caught his breath. God, he was sick of Jabber being
so cocky.

Before he could open his mouth to take charge of the situation, Jabbers hands made quick
work with the top part of his uniform. Stripping off the layers before he reached the last one.
A thin tank tank, jabber had it bunched up in his hand, ready to pull it off.

But he just tugged it up to Zanka's chest, resting the fabric at his collarbone. He had plans for
it later.

He brushed his hands against Zankas torso, fingers light brushing against the gashes he left
from their earlier ‘foreplay’. They weren't deep, as they had stopped bleeding a while ago.
But they were red and angry. He brushed his thumb against the edge of the cut, causing
Zanka to hiss in pain.
“Fucking hell- stop pressing it..” Zanka hissed out.

Jabber looked up, meeting the mans glare, before moving his hands to more important
places.

Zanka layed there, not really sure what to do with himself. He arms lay on the mattress
slightly about his head, a position he found himself in after being basically stripped naked,
besides his tank top.

He huffed, chest rising and falling, glaring up at Jabber. Just how much longer did he have to
put up with this insufferable asshole?

His thoughts died mid-sentence when a sharp pinch hit his chest. Jabber’s fingers brushed
against his nipples—well, what little of them actually showed, his nipple was buried in soft
pink flesh, hiding from the outside world.

“Holy shit,” Jabber said, tilting his head with a smirk, “you’ve got inverted nipples? That’s…
oddly cute.”

Zanka’s glare could have burned through steel. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, trying to
shove Jabber’s hand away, but his body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his stomach. The
sting of the pinch lingered, and despite himself, a shiver ran down his spine.

Jabber dipped his head down, nipping at the soft skin, before giving a long hard lick, pressing
down as the tip of his tongue teased the soft nub. His other hand pressing and rubbing in slow
circles.

“Hey you think if I suck hard enough they'll pop out?” Jabber asked, this curious glint in his
eyes.

Zanka’s head shot up from the mattress, embarrassment burning his face. “W-what? No,
dammit!” he gasped. One hand pressed against Jabber’s shoulder, the other braced against his
forehead, trying to pry him off his chest. “That’s not… how it works!”

Jabber didn’t move. Instead, he dipped his head again, lips pressing against Zanka’s chest as
he sucked hard, teeth and tongue working over the sensitive nub like if he just sucked hard
enough, something sweet might spill out. He thrived on Zanka’s desperate pleas, the sharp
gasps and whines that tumbled from him with every teasing motion.

Pressing his hips down, he started grinding against Zanka, first against his ass, then slipping
upwards, pressing his dick against Zankas. Rubbing against him in this rough needy pace.

Zanka's arms faltered, and Jabber took full advantage of it. Sucking hard and pulling back,
his mouth finally let go of him. The nipple he was just sucking on now stood erect, pink and
puffy against his pale chest.

“Hey would you look at that, it worked..” jabber laughed, before turning his attention to the
other one.
As he worked his way with the other side of Zankas chest, he pulled his hips back slightly,
lining himself up as he sucked away on his nipple.

He didnt push in immediately, but rather grinded the tip of his cock, pressing in just enough
to make Zanka tense, before pulling away. It was this slow and agonizing pace, wet and
sloppy sounds echoing as he teased him.

Zanka had given up trying to push him away, and instead had moved his hand up to his
mouth, biting the back of his hand to muffle his needy whimpers. He would rather the rough
pace from their first round than this, because this was just too much for him to deal with, too
embarrassing.

Jabber had finished his job, pulling his face back as he admired the work of his mouth. Once
hidden, now all nice and puffy, he littered his nipples with these dark purple hickeys. He was
kinda proud of it, honestly.

Sitting up, he wiped his mouth, looking down at his work. Oh yeah, he thought, I could get
used to this.

Buckling his hips, he pushed in, his earlier load and the slick from Zanka making it easy to
just slide in.

“Man you look so wrecked right now, having a good time?” Jabber asked lightly, his hands
finding a place on his knees, spreading his legs wider so he could get a good view of
everything.

Turning his head, Zanka refused to answer.

“Man why you gotta be stubborn? Here I am trying to be sweet on ya and your just being a
brat”

Zanka’s jaw tightened, his silence only egging Jabber on.

“Ah, that’s it, huh? You think ignoring me’s gonna save your ass?” Jabber leaned a little
closer, grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t make me work for it harder, you know I love when you
squirm.”

He let his fingers trace lightly over Zanka’s thigh, just enough to test a reaction. “C’mon…
don’t be like that. I’m just trying to enjoy you a little.”

Zanka’s eyes flicked toward him, a mix of annoyance and something hotter bubbling under
the surface, and Jabber’s grin widened, clearly pleased.

Jabber's jerked his hip forward, enjoying watching his face scrunch up from the movement.
Jabber pressed deeper, hitting the spot that make Zanka squirm. His hands running down his
inner thighs, pressing agsint the skin, enjoying the feeling of muscle twitch under his touch.

His hands didn’t linger long before they wandered down, grip firm and demanding, one
anchoring him in place while the other wrapped around his dick, tugging in this rough
motion. Jabber stayed close as he spoke, crowding his space, making sure every word landed
before he moved again.

“Go on,” he said, rolling his hips roughly to make Zanka gasp. “Tell me what I’m doing
wrong. Since you’re so damn sure I don’t know how to fuck you.”

The pressure was relentless—too rough, too insistent—like Jabber was testing him, searching
for a reaction more than anything else.

“All ya gotta do is say you like it,” Jabber added, voice low and coaxing. “That’s not hard, is
it?”

Zanka’s hands curled into the sheets, knuckles white. The sounds he tried to swallow slipped
out anyway, breath hitching as he struggled to keep control.

“I—I’m—shit,” he hissed, finally snapping. “You’re all brute force—”

Jabber stilled.

“Yer too damn mean,” Zanka blurted, frustration bleeding through the embarrassment. “I
don’t like pain, jackass..”

Jabber pulled back just enough to look at him, genuine confusion flickering across his face.
“Mean?” he echoed. “I thought I was being soft on ya. What, you want me whisperin’ sweet
nothings while I fuck you?”

Zanka turned his face away, heat burning up his neck. He hated how much that question hit
too close to the truth.

There was a pause—then Jabber huffed a quiet laugh.

“Alright, alright,” he said, tone shifting, less sharp now. “I won’t be mean, princess.”

A beat.

“So let me hear you,” he added softly. “You got no idea how much of a turn-on that is.”

He shifted, pressing in him again, deep but gentle. Rocking his hips in this slow pace that
made Zanka's breath hitch.

His hands went back, wrapping around the dick he previously let go of, gentle tugging as he
leaned over and propped himself up on his other arm. Touch careful this time, like he was
proving a point.

“Ya look real good like this,” he went on quietly. “Takin’ me so well.” he murmured, ducking
his head down to the crook of Zanka's neck, the side that was still bare, compared to the other
side that was covered with dark bruises and bites. Maybe he had been a bit mean. He could
feel Zanka tighten up at the words, which made him smile.
Zanka groaned softly at the sudden change in pace, it was impossible not to notice, and he
hated how much he liked it. He bit down on his lip, then Jabber’s words surfaced in his mind.
Jabber was meeting him halfway, after all, so the least he could do was try to relax.

He let himself loosen, breath stuttering as soft groans and whimpers slipped free, the sounds
that slipped out this time were softer, needier, unguarded as he finally let himself relax into
it.

Everytime Jabber spoke to him he could feel himself tense, the sweet murmurs really did
something for him, it made his stomach flutter, embarrassingly so.

Jabber pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Oh,” he said, voice warm with satisfaction. “You like it when I praise you, huh?”

A soft nip at his neck, his steady rocking of his hips started getting further in between, a
proper thrusting as he settled into the slow gait. Jabber leaned into his ear, licking and
kissing, savoring the flinching from him as he spoke. “You feel real good… shit- your doing
real good…”

Zanka tensed at the words, the praise hitting harder than any roughness had. Jabber felt it and
smiled against his skin.

Zanka found himself grabbing onto Jabber, trying to find some way to ground himself. It was
all so embarrassing, but god did it feel good. His earlier attitude slipping away with every
thrust, now needy as he felt himself get close.

He wrapped his arms around Jabber's neck, desperation clawing at him, nails digging into
Jabbers shoulders.

Jabber groaned, the pain of nails breaking skin sent a shiver through his body, he quickened
his pace slightly, trying so damn hard to be gentle with the man under him. He didn't mind it
necessarily, but it was hard to hold back.

Jabber could feel him tense, his hand now damp with precum as he jerked him off, his thumb
pressing against his tip, teasing him.

“Fuck…you close again? I can feel you tighten up..” a low groan, “shit you doing good… go
ahead and cum for me yeah?”

Zanka sucked in a breath, shoulders tightening. His grip on Jabber’s shoulders gave him
away immediately.

Jabber smiled. “See?” he went on softly. “So good for me. Always payin’ attention, always
tryin’ so hard.”

A pause, then, gentler—but somehow worse. “Such a good boy when you let yourself be.”
Zanka’s face flamed; he couldn’t look, couldn’t bear it, even as a shiver ran through him. His
fingers dug into skin, nails dragging, and his hips jerked involuntarily against Jabber’s hold.
A tiny, strangled squeak slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
Jabber chuckled softly. “Yeah, clingy too,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “Didn’t
know you were this needy when someone tells you you’re doing good.”

Heat blazed through Zanka, mortifying him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse
of Jabber’s exposed neck—and, without thinking, his head snapped forward. Teeth sank in,
biting down hard, a muffled groan escaping him. His body twitched against Jabber’s grasp, a
mix of frustration, embarrassment, and that helpless, impossible craving that made him hate
—and want—every second.

Jabber groaned, this sharp needy sound, the arm he had propped himself up on shifted. Hand
going to the back of Zankas head and pushed him closer to his neck. His other hand faltered
for a second, before he focused and moved his hand faster, hips quickening as well.

“F-fucck… keep biting, shit-” his fingers curled around hair, making sure to have a good
grasp at the back of his neck as he bit his lip, the pain of Zanka biting and clawing at him
making his stomach ache.

Jabber groaned, the sound coming out strangled as Zanka bit into his adams apple, but he
didnt stop, his hand squeezing and tugging at Zankas dick, movements turning frantic even as
pained pleasure flickered across his face. His thrusts grew sharper, hips angling just right—
hitting the spot that made Zanka’s vision spark. The rhythm was enough to push him over the
edge.

Zanka arched his back, tighetning around jabber as his orgasm hit him. Shivers coursed
through his body, hands shifting from his back to his shoulders, trying half-heartedly to push
him away. Cum hit his stomach, thick and sudden, and he still couldn’t relax- Jabber didn’t
stop moving.

“F-fuck—” The word broke into a strangled gasp. “Stop— I… I just came—”

Zanka tensed, over stimulation hitting him hard as Jabber let go of his dick, wiping the
wetness off on the sheets before he propped himself up on both arms, effectively caging
Zanka. His hands tugged on his hair, pushing his head back to his neck.

“Just- just fucking bite me, I’m so fucking close” Jabber pleaded, this rough needy demand
as he slammed his hips harder.

Zanka’s breath hitched, nerves still sparking painfully under his skin. Every touch felt too
much, too sharp, and he just wanted it to end—needed it to end. His teeth found Jabber’s
neck again, biting down harder this time, more intent than before.

One of his hands slid up, fingers curling around Jabber’s throat—tight enough to make Jabber
struggle for air—while his other hand tangled into his dreads and yanked hard.

Jabber bit his lip, before shifting on his legs. His hands let go of Zanka, and frantically went
to the underside of his knees, before hooking his hands under them and pushing his legs to
his chest.
He was crushing Zanka underneath him, and in the position he could go so much deeper than
before, and he took advantage of it, slamming in so hard and deep that the man under him
cried out is desperation. The sensation of Zankas teeth sinking into his neck, the choking,
shit, eveything about it drove him closer to the edge.

Zankas broken voice pulled him out of his daze, before he pulled away, just enough to see his
face. He pressed his lips to his, teeth bumping as he shoved his tongue into Zanka mouth,
swallowing all of his needy moans and complaints.

He only pulled back when he felt a sharp stinging in his tongue, Zanka had bit him, hard
enough to bleed.

Zanka was a mess, tears streaming down his face, drool mixed with blood stained his lips,
this twisted look as his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to pull away, to escape. It was too
much for him to handle but Jabber wasnt finished yet.

He fully pulled back, giving himself enough space to push Zankas knees up further, lifting his
ass and lower back off the matress as he fucked him hard.

Jabber clsoed his eyes, he was so close, he just need a bit more. His eyes finally opened, and
he looked at Zanka, arms desperately clawing at the mattress trying to escape from the
mating press like positon he had him in. His gaze lowered, to Zankas dick before something
caught his eye. He shoved in deep, just to confirm what he saw.

In this position, at this angle, he could see a bulge in Zankas stomach when he pushed in
fully.

“Fuckk…” he groaned, the sight alone was enough to push him over the edge. He angled his
thrusts, hitting upward to see the bump from his cock hitting Zanka as deep as he possibly
could before he came.
His whole body went rigid, his climax ripping out of him as he continued his deep, frantic
movements. It took a moment for him to slow, struggling to catch his breath as he completely
stopped. He loosened his grip on Zanka’s legs, letting them drop to his sides as Zanka lay
completely exposed and fucked out.
“Shit, did you cum again?” he asked lightly. Brushing the back of his fingers against his limp
dick, only pulling away when he heard this pained breathless whimper from the man
underneath him.

Zanka lay there, struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving as his body jerked and twitched
involuntarily. His face was destroyed, lashes wet from tears that ran down his cheeks. Blood
and drool on his mouth as he tried to close his legs. He maybe moved them an inch before his
legs gave out, his muscles twitching involuntarily.

Jabber hummed as he pressed a thumb to his inner thigh, enjoying the feeling of muscles
twitching under him. He watched Zanka close his eyes, trying to steady his breathing as he
relaxed slightly.

He finally pulled out, spreading his ass slightly as his cum leaked out of Zanka, the sight
bringing out a low whistle from him.
Shifting, Jabber pulled Zankas legs together before climbing up and hovering over him,
almost sitting on his chest, putting just enough weight to steady himself but not crush Zanka.

Zanka’s eyes fluttered open, and he was met face-to-head with Jabber’s cock, which was still
impossibly hard and wet with the slick from a moment ago.
Zanka turned his nose slightly; the sight was not something he wanted shoved in his face.
“What… the fuck are you doing?” he croaked out, voice raw from all the screaming he did.

Jabber’s hand wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly pumping it as he shifted closer,
pressing his tip against Zanka’s lip, smearing cum on his bloodied lips.
“Let me get off one more time, yeah? Promise I’ll be quick.”

Before Zanka could even respond, Jabber pushed forward harder, pushing past his lips and
feeling Zanka’s teeth pressing into his tip.
Grunting, he turned his head harder, refusing to look at it. “G-Get that thing out of my face,”
Zanka spat out.

Jabber pouted but shifted back a little, hand still working his way across the length of his
dick. Though his disappointment didn’t last long as an idea popped into his head. His free
hand brushed up against Zanka’s nipple, palming it gently before pinching it. He started
rubbing the tip of his dick against Zanka’s other nipple, the slick from their previous round
wetting his skin, making it slick so there’s no friction.

Zanka let out a broken noise, half curse, half helpless sound, fingers digging into Jabber’s
thighs with shaky frustration.

“Jesus Christ— just go jerk off somewhere else,” he snapped, breath catching when the pinch
at his chest tightened. “Why you gotta get off on me like some damn creep?”

Jabber huffed a quiet laugh, unbothered. “Creep? That’s harsh.”

“Then act normal.”

“Normal?” Jabber’s hand stilled for half a second before pressing again, deliberate. “I’m
being nice.”

Zanka barked out a strained sound. “Nice would be leaving me alone.”

“I could just fuck you again,” Jabber said casually. Not a threat. A reminder. “But I figured
you were tired. Thought I’d show some restraint.”

Zanka’s jaw clenched. His push weakened — not because he wanted it, but because he knew
Jabber wasn’t bluffing.

“You’re so full of it,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” Jabber hummed. “But you’re still letting me.”

That landed.
Zanka’s hands tightened instead of pushing. His breath stuttered, frustrated and cornered by
the truth of it.

“…Shut up.”

Jabber only smiled down at him, but chose not to answer. Instead he quickened his hand,
jerking himself off in a way that maked him tense.

His free hand letting go of Zankas bruised and senstivitve nipple before trailing up to the tank
top he left bunched up at his collarbone. His thumb hooked under the fabric before pulling it
up and off of his skin.

Before Zanak could even question him, Jabber shifted again, slipping his dick between skin
and fabric. The tank top was skin tight, and gave just enough pressure to hold his cock firmly
against Zankas chest.

He hummed, pleased with what he saw, before dragging his gaze slowly back up to Zanka’s
face.

That look again.

Irritated. Disgusted. And underneath it — that tight, fragile shame like he couldn’t stand the
fact that he felt anything at all.

Jabber’s mouth curved.

“Oh, that’s filthy,” he murmured.

Zanka’s eyes snapped sharper. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously.” Jabber’s voice dropped, lazy and taunting. “You look like you want to spit on
me and thank me at the same time.”

Zanka gritted his teeth, but didnt respond. Instead he decided the best reaction would be to
ignore him. So he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. Refusing to acknowledge
anything till it was over.

Jabber frowned slightly at the reaction, but he didn’t stop. He started moving again anyway
— slow, deliberate, grinding against skin and fabric with an unhurried rhythm that felt
intentional.

“You know,” he said, voice lower now, less teasing and more pointed, “I’m not gonna judge
you for liking this. You don’t gotta put on this whole act like you hate it.”

He kept the pace steady, dragging it out on purpose, like he had all the time in the world.

“Like I said earlier,” he continued, tone stretching thin through the quiet, “I saw what you did
after our fights.”
His hands wandered back up to Zanka’s chest, thumbs brushing lightly over sensitive skin.
He felt the shiver before he saw it — and smiled when he did.

A soft pinch.

“How you’d strip down,” he murmured, voice almost conversational. “Touch yourself like
you were trying to work me out of your system.”

Zanka’s teeth clenched hard enough to ache. Heat flooded his face, humiliation curling tight
in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at him — but he didn’t stop
listening.

“How you’d breathe my name,” Jabber went on, quieter now, more obscene for how calm he
sounded. “Like saying it would push you over the edge.”

“Shut up!” Zanka snapped, the words cracking out of him. His embarrassment flared into
irritation, a defensive spark. “I shouldn’t like this. It’s fucking wrong—”

He finally looked up.

Jabber was smiling down at him.

That only made it worse.

“It’s perverted,” Zanka bit out, glare sharp but unsteady. “It’s messed up.”

Jabber’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, it softened — not kindly, just knowingly.

“Yeah?” he said quietly. “You don't gotta be this goody two shoes all the time. Its okay to like
this.”

“It can be our thing yeah? I'll give you all the dirty praise you want, and return I'll get to fuck
you how I want. Don't stress yourself out, just because you think you need to pretend to hate
it to save face.”

Zanka huffed, irritated at his words. “Whatever, just- just hurry up and finish.”

“Fine,” his hand reached out and grabbed Zankas jaw, tilting his face towards him. “But at
least look at me, need something to get off to.”

Huffing, Zanka relaxed slightly, though he he still was glaring, he didn't look away.

In fact, it was hard not to look. In this position, Zanka could see just how big Jabber is; the
thought that that was what was inside him just a moment ago made his cheeks flush again.

Jabber smiled before letting go of his face, his slow humping getting a bit more aggressive as
he kept eye contact with him.

“Hey, if you keep looking at it like that, I’m gonna want to fuck you again.”
Zanka grumbled under his breath, forcing his gaze past the obvious, trying to focus
somewhere ‘safe’. His eyes drifted to Jabber’s torso—long, thin scars streaked across his
dark skin. He couldn’t deny it; the guy clearly trained hard to get that physique.

His eyes wandered higher, meeting Jabber’s gaze, and for a heartbeat he couldn’t decide what
was worse: looking at those dark, teasing eyes… or the cock brushing against his chin. He bit
his lip and finally settled on a safe spot, Jabber’s neck.

Jabber didn’t let him off that easily, his eyes following where ever Zanka looked. His fingers
pressed into the raw bite marks Zanka had left, the dried blood smudging under the pressure,
and he leaned into it, clearly enjoying the sting.

“You know how to bite well,” Jabber murmured, voice low and rough. “You should bite me
more when we fight. Would be… hot as hell.”

Zanka rolled his eyes, trying to mask the flutter in his chest. “I’m not biting you when we
fight, freak.”

“Only when we fuck then?” Jabber’s smirk was sharp, teasing, and he leaned closer, letting
the words hang heavy in the air.

Zanka’s cheeks flushed, a reluctant groan slipping past him despite his glare.

Jabber laughed lightly, before deciding to focus on his efforts, he was starting to get
frustrated from overestimation.

“Hey can you.. Open your mouth for me?” his hands went back down, palming his chest
before going up and placing a thumb on Zankas lip, pulling it down slightly as he rutted
against him.

“What for?” he questioned.

“Cmon, just do it.”

Zanka hesitated, but decided to give some grace and opened his mouth obediently. Stinking
his tongue out slightly as he waited for him to finish himself off. Though he didnt really
know why his mouth needed to open for it.

A shiver ran down Jabbers spine, excitement coursing through him with how obedient Zanka
was being.

Before he could do anything, he hooked his thumb on Zanka's teeth, putting enough pressure
to make sure he couldn't close his mouth up before pushing forward and grinding on his face.

Grinding his cock against his lip and tongue, his other hand quickened, jerking faster to finish
himself off.

He could feel Zanka tense under him as he realised what he planned to do, but kept a firm
grip on his lower jaw, groaning as he could feel teeth cutting into his finger.
“S-shit- such a good listener..” he groaned out as his hips jerked forwards. He was getting
close. “Close your eyes for me”

Zanka did, realising what was about to happen. He wired his eyes shut, waiting for it to end.

Jabber let out this needy sound, before cumming hard. Thick ribbons of cum hitting Zankas
face as he continued his stroking.

Thick hot streams of cum splattered across his face, getting in his hair, dripping from his
eyebrow into his closed eyes. Jabber huffed out this breah, before he rubbed the head of his
cock against Zanka's tongue, effectively rubbing off whatever semen was left dripping from
him.

The sight of the man beneath him, covered his his load really lit a fire it him, enough so he
could probably go another round.

Though he decided to pull away, slipping himself out under the now damp tanktop before
rolling off the the side, propping his head up on his hand as he layed besides Zanka.

Zanka grunted, before bringing up his hand to wipe his mouth off, the taste of salt in his
mouth.

Jabber tossed the cloth at him without looking. “Here.”

Zanka grabbed it and scrubbed at his face, irritated, jaw tight. The room felt too warm, too
heavy. He wiped harder than necessary, trying to get the sticky feeling off his skin.

“…Disgusting,” he muttered.

“Didn’t seem like you thought that a minute ago,” Jabber replied lazily.

Zanka ignored him, dragging the fabric across his mouth again — and then paused.

The material was thicker than it should’ve been.

Structured.

His fingers stilled.

He slowly pulled it away from his face and looked down.

Dark fabric. Reinforced seams. The badge stitched on the chest.

“You— you fucking dick!” Zanka shouted, voice cracking with fury. “This is my uniform!
Now it’s— it’s covered—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence, just shaking the fabric in his fist like that would undo it.

Jabber laughed. Actually laughed.

The sound was low and amused, like this was the best part of his night.
“So what?” Jabber said lazily. “I’m sure you’ve got some clothes here, right?”

Zanka tried to sit up fast enough to lunge at him, but the second he pushed himself upright
his muscles gave out. His legs trembled uselessly and he collapsed back onto the mattress
with a frustrated growl.

“No!” he snapped, breath uneven. “I don’t keep clothes here, jackass!”

Jabber raised a brow. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t live here,” Zanka shot back. “I come here, I relax, and then I leave.”

He forced himself up onto his elbows this time, slower, glaring daggers. “I have to walk back
into HQ in that. Do you have any idea what kind of questions that’s going to raise?”

Jabber shrugged, a carefree but amused expression on his facd. “Tell them you had a busy
night.”

Zanka grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his head.

“This isn’t funny!” he barked. “I already get watched enough as it is. If I show up looking
wrinkled and smelling like—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching hard. “I’ll never hear the end
of it.”

Jabber caught the pillow and tossed it aside, still infuriatingly calm. “Then don’t go back
tonight, stay with me.”

“I don’t have that option.”

“Sounds like you do.”

Zanka stared at him, disbelief mixing with anger. “You think this is some joke. You think
everything is.”

“And you,” Jabber shot back, voice cooling, “act like the world’s going to collapse because
your shirt’s dirty.”

“It’s not a shirt!” Zanka snapped again, holding it up. “It’s my uniform.”

He looked down at it, jaw tight. “…You’re unbelievable.”

He finally sank back into the mattress, brows furrowed, mind racing through damage control.
Maybe he could rinse it. Maybe he could dry it under the hand dryer in the lower washroom.
Maybe he could—

Before he could settle on a plan, Jabber leaned over and snatched the uniform from his hands.

“What are you—”

Jabber dragged it across his stomach, wiping up the remaining mess from earlier like it was a
rag.

Zanka saw red.

He smacked Jabber upside the head hard enough to make it sting. “Oh my god, stop!”

Jabber turned toward him, half amused, half confused. “What? It’s already dirty.”

“You’re making it worse!” Zanka snapped, sitting up again despite his exhaustion. “Are you
actually brain dead?”

Jabber huffed, tossing the uniform back onto Zanka’s chest. “C’mon, Zanzan. I’ll let you
wear my clothes. So stop bitching about it.”

Zanka rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “I am not walking into HQ wearing your oversized
garbage.”

“They’re clean.”

“They scream you.”

A beat of silence.

Zanka exhaled slowly through his nose, staring at the ceiling. His anger had peaked — and
now it was just draining him. He was too tired to keep yelling.

“…Fine,” he muttered at last. “I’ll rinse it. Hang it. If it’s damp, I’ll deal with it.”

Jabber watched him, a bit disappointed that he wouldn't wear his uniform.

It was silent, for too long. Long enough for Zanka's mind to wander.

“Hey.” he huffed out.

“What?” Jabber shifted closer, peering down at him.

“Have you been hold back in our fights? Today, I mean” he groaned, slightly embarrassed
about it. “I thought I was getting stronger. But you won so easily earlier. So have you been
holding back on me?”

“Nah,” a brief pause, like he was holding back a laugh. “I laced yo shit earlier.”

Zanka turned his head to face jabber, a incredulous look on his face.

“You what?”

“Relax,” Jabber said lightly, grinning. “Nothing crazy. That water you drank? I put a little in
there… just to make sure I won.” He looked almost proud of it.

Zanka froze, jaw tightening. “…So you cheated.”

Jabber shrugged. “I won.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

Silence stretched.

Zanka turned his head, eyes narrowing, trying to rein in the mix of fury and disbelief, and
hide this small sense of satisfaction. “…Next time, don’t.”

Jabber tilted his head.

“Next time?” Jabber laughed.

He leaned closer instead of away, almost leaning over him, dreads framing his face like this
was all some harmless joke instead of the echo of a threat. “You’re already planning a
rematch?”

Zanka didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“If you didn’t cheat,” he said evenly, “you’d have lost.”

Jabber’s grin twitched.

There it was — that tiny, almost imperceptible shift. Not anger. Not denial.

Interest.

“You’re real confident for a guy who was covered in my load ten minutes ago,” Jabber
murmured.

“And you’re real defensive for a guy who supposedly won.”

That hit.

Jabber’s smile sharpened, but his eyes flicked over Zanka more carefully now — measuring.
Reassessing. Zanka could feel it, and it only fed that quiet, burning satisfaction in his chest.

“You think I drugged you because I couldn’t take you?” Jabber asked, tone dipping low.

Zanka shrugged one shoulder. Casual. Controlled.

“If you could’ve beaten me clean, you would’ve.”

Silence stretched.

Then Jabber laughed again — softer this time. Almost impressed.

“Next time,” he said slowly, “I won’t.”

Zanka’s jaw tightened. “Good.”

“But don’t get it twisted.” Jabber’s grin came back, sharp and deliberate. His fingers traced
lightly along the curve of Zanka’s neck, brushing over the marks he’d left earlier- not tender,
not cruel. Just claiming. “I didn’t cheat because I couldn’t win.”

He leaned closer — just enough to make it feel like a challenge instead of a threat.

“I cheated because it was faster.”

Zanka’s eyes flashed.

Jabber straightened, rolling his shoulders like he was already imagining it.

“So sure,” he added lightly. “We’ll do a next time.”

A beat.

“No drugs.”

Another beat, smug.

“You better not disappoint me ZanZan.”

End Notes

Hello! Thanks for reading my fic!! I wasn't rlly sure how to end it properly so I low-key
winged it, so sorry if it's kinda odd?

I would love you to hear your thoughts though, always looking for constructive criticism to
make my writing better!!

Reading comments are lit what motivate me to write more so please don't be shy!!

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