Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   The sun shone through the curtains in Flambae’s room, stirring him up from his sleep.

   Flambae rolled over with a groan when the light hit his eyes. He yawned, quietly, and stretched out his arms. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, opening them. For whatever reason, he felt well-rested, more so than he usually did.

   It didn’t take him very long to spot  the figure lying beside him on the bed.

    Curious, he squinted his hazy eyes, before they widened completely.

   Beside him was Sonar, who groggily mumbled something in his sleep, gradually beginning to wake up.

   Flambae slowly sat up and turned to get a better look at Sonar. He watched him with a speechless expression, wondering  how and why the hell Sonar ended up in his bed with him.

   Sonar’s eyes flicked open, and the bat-hybrid immediately froze the second he realised he wasn’t alone in the bed.

   With a small squeak, he shot up to a sitting position, staring at Flambae. His hands held the covers, holding them up to his chest, which noticeably lacked a shirt.

   Both men stared at each other in bewildered silence.

   It was an odd silence; an awkward one.

   Flambae stared at Sonar, and Sonar stared at Flambae.

   Neither of them spoke. Flambae wasn’t sure what to say, and Sonar looked like he was still processing everything, which was evident on his face.

   Flambae glanced down at the blanket that was held up to Sonar’s chest, then back up at Sonar’s face again.

   Sonar noticed the way Flambae looked down. He swallowed, clutching the blanket tighter, and pulling it upwards more.

  One of his ears twitched, and he awkwardly glanced to the side, before back at Flambae.

   In another instance of uncomfortable, awkward silence, Flambae’s eyes shifted away from Sonar’s face and down to his chest. He wasn’t even really paying attention now, only confused as to why Sonar was in his bed.

   Sonar suddenly spoke, which snapped Flambae out of his thoughts.

   "Um, can you… stop looking at me like that?"

   Flambae lifted his gaze back to Sonar. He was tempted to snap back with the usual, snarky comment, but he couldn’t find it in him, just then.

   Instead, he asked a question back.

   “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

   Sonar went quiet for a moment.

   “I don’t, uh… I don’t remember.”

   Flambae stared blankly at him, clearly not being able to recall anything, either.

   “Alright, that’s… fine.” Sonar took a moment to compose himself. “Let’s just try to say what we know we remember and start from there.”

Chapter Text

   After a successful day, the Z-team went to The Sardine to celebrate, like usual. All of the members were scattered around the bar.

   Flambae and Sonar sat at the bar, each sipping from their drinks. They had been drinking for a while now, and were both fairly drunk.

   Flambae downed the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass down on the bar counter.

   The alcohol was getting to him now. He was more buzzed than drunk, but his head already felt lighter, and for once, he wasn’t angry.

   He glanced at Sonar, who sat next to him, quietly sipping at his own drink. It was pretty funny, to him. Flambae was drinking tequila and Sonar was drinking a cocktail.

   A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

   "You drink like a pussy."

   Sonar scoffed, and sent a scowl in Flambae’s direction.

   "Well, at least I'm drinking something that doesn't taste like gasoline."

   Flambae scoffed, amused by Sonar's retort.

   "It's tequila, dipshit."

   He grabbed the bottle from the bar to refill his glass, but only a few drops trickled out.

   "And it doesn't taste like gasoline. It tastes good. You just have no taste."

   "Uh-huh, sure, okay."

   Sonar rolled his eyes, before taking another long sip of his drink.

   He glanced at Flambae out of the corner of his eye, noticing how he was struggling to get any more tequila out of the bottle.

   "What, ran out already?" he teased, a smug look on his features. He raised his own glass to his lips, subtly taunting the other man.

   Flambae shot a glare at Sonar.

   He hated that smug look on his face. It was just asking to get wiped off.

   "Shut up," he grumbled.

   He set the empty bottle down, and turned fully on the barstool to face Sonar. He watched as the bat-hybrid took a sip from his glass.

   "Hey," Flambae started, gesturing to Sonar's drink with a jerk of his head, "give me a sip of that stupid girly drink of yours."

   Sonar raised an eyebrow in response.

   He held the glass in one hand, turning it idly in the other. The action was absentminded, his fingers moving surprisingly gracefully, despite the amount of alcohol hr had consumed.

   “And why should I?” he queried. “It’s my drink, and maybe I don’t wanna share it.”

   Flambae rolled his eyes, irritated by Sonar's response.

   "Jesus," he scoffed, and rolled his eyes again, "you're such a damn snob. Just gimme a taste, it's just a sip."

   He gestured for the glass again, holding his hand out.

   "Come on," he pestered. "Be generous, pretty boy."

   Sonar scoffed in response. Pretty boy.

   Never mind the fact that he secretly loved being called that.

   As much as he didn't want to give in and let Flambae have a taste, curiosity got the better of him. That, and he knew he couldn’t handle Flambae continually pestering him for much longer.

   "Ugh, fine."

   Reluctantly, he held the glass out towards Flambae, giving him a disapproving look.

   "Just a sip, okay? Don't you dare drink half of it."

   Flambae smirked triumphantly, pleased by Sonar's giving in.

   "Relax, I'm not a monster," he said, taking the glass from Sonar's hand.

   Flambae lifted the glass to his lips, his smirk widening at being able to take from the glass that Sonar's lips had touched.

   He eventually pulled the glads back, tasting the fruity liquid flow down his throat.

   “Mmm,” he hummed almost exaggeratedly, “you like it sweet, don’t you?”

   Sonar narrowed his eyes at the comment, not amused.

   "And you must like your drinks bitter, seeing as all your taste buds got seared off by that disgusting tequila," he shot back.

   Though, that didn't stop him from noticing the way the corner of Flambae's lips curved into a smirk as he leaned in just ever so slightly.

   Flambae barked out a laugh, amused by Sonar's comeback.

   "Bitter? That’s rich coming from the guy who drinks this shit," he teased, waving the glass in front of Sonar's face before taking another sip just to spite him.

   He tilted his head slightly as he studied the bat-hybrid—his sharp features softened by alcohol and something else Flambae couldn’t quite place.

   “Hey—“ Sonar soon realised that Flambae still held his drink. If he didn’t take it back soon, it’d be inevitable that the other man would finish it, even if he claimed it to be too girly, or sweet.

   He started to reach out, attempting to grab his drink.

   “Give it back, asshole.”

   The teasing smirk on Flambae's face only grew wider as he saw Sonar try to reach for the glass. There was no way in hell Flambae was going to give it back, not just yet.

   He swiftly lifted the glass over his head, holding it up out of Sonar's reach. He leaned back in the barstool.

   He snickered, watching him fruitlessly try to grab it from where he sat.

   "Why don’t you try jumping?" he taunted, a mocking gleam in his amber eyes.

   Sonar grumbled in frustration, being mocked indirectly for his height. He wasn’t short, but he was shorter than Flambae, and of course, the other man just had to tease him for that.

   “Just… just give it back!” he huffed in drunken irritation.

   He leaned forwards, half-tumbling against Flambae’s body as he continued to try to get his drink back. He was practically on top of Flambae’s lap, his hands reaching up for his drink, though to no avail still.

   Flambae couldn't help but chuckle at Sonar's drunk fumbling, and at the way he was practically on him, almost in his lap, desperately trying to get his drink back. He found it both entertaining and endearing, even despite his irritation.

   He held the glass just slightly out of reach each time Sonar tried, his grin widening with each failed attempt.

   He couldn't deny that having Sonar practically on top of him, all up close and personal, was stirring up some interesting feelings in him, feelings he tried to ignore.

   Eventually, Sonar seemed to have given up on trying to grab his drink whilst it was above Flambae’s head.

   He settled down with an indignant grumble, though didn’t move off the other man’s lap just yet.

   “You’re such a dick,” he scoffed, shooting a glare at Flambae, their faces barely inches apart.

   Flambae's smirk only seemed to widen as Sonar settled down, still situated in his lap. He could feel the heat of Sonar's body pressed against his, their faces only inches apart. He tried to ignore the way his heart rate seemed to pick up ever so slightly.

   He chuckled again, amused by the bat-hybrid's grumpy expression. It was almost endearing how annoyed he got over a stupid drink.

   "You're just pissed because you can't reach it, shortstack."  he quipped.

   Sonar’s eyes narrowed, just a bit. The tension between them grew palpable.

   But then, before Flambae could react, Sonar leaned forwards, closing the gap between them.

   Their lips met, the faint hint of alcohol able to be tasted on each others’ lips.

   Flambae froze for a solid five seconds.

   His brain short-circuited entirely when Sonar's lips pressed against his own. His fingers twitched around the glass he still held in his hand, nearly dropping it as all coherent thought evaporated from his head.

   Then, instinct took over.

   He kissed back without thinking. The kiss was rough and impatient, and just as intoxicating as that tequila had been earlier.

   They were both sloppy and messy now, driven by alcohol and some sort of underlying tension that had been building up. Their tongues slid against one another, and Flambae let out a groan, gripping Sonar's waist with his free hand.

   He was barely even aware that they were still in public. All he could think about, at that moment, was the man on his lap, and how Sonar tasted so much better than that stupid cocktail.

   The kiss deepened, desperate and greedy. Flambae could feel that familiar heat building in the pit of his stomach, spreading throughout his body.

   He found himself wanting more. He wanted Sonar even closer, pressed against him. He wanted to feel him in every sense.

   Their surroundings had completely faded from attention. His mind was consumed entirely by the bat-hybrid's presence.

   It wasn't until he heard a group of people nearby wolfwhistling and teasing them that he pulled away.

   And as Sonar leaned back, it was just then that Flambae realised what the other man held in his hand—his drink.

   Flambae couldn't believe it. That little brat.

   He had been so damn distracted by that kiss that he hadn't even noticed that the drink had been taken right from under his nose. And now, Sonar was smugly drinking from it, as if it were some kind of victory.

   Flambae couldn't help but scowl, both impressed and annoyed at the same time.

   "You're a sneaky little bastard," he muttered, watching him drink.

   Even now, after that kiss, it was infuriating to Flambae, watching Sonar drink. And it was even more infuriating how attractive he looked doing it. It was so stupidly unfair.

   And the way he was straddling Flambae's lap, sitting right on top of him…

   Flambae suddenly had a very bad idea.

   Now Flambae's hands found their way to Sonar's hips, gripping him tightly. He could feel the heat of Sonar's skin through the fabric of his shirt.

   He leaned forwards, tilting his head so that his mouth hovered just above Sonar's ear.

   His voice was low when he spoke.

   "Do you know what's gonna happen when we get home?" he whispered, his hands sliding down further to rest right above Sonar's ass.

   Sonar nearly choked on his drink at that comment.

   He managed to swallow the mouthful he had, before glancing down at Flambae, and raising an eyebrow at him.

   "Oh, yeah?" he challenged, trying to sound unimpressed, despite the effect Flambae's touch was having on him. The way his hands felt on his hips, moving lower to his ass, sent a shiver down Sonar's spine. He had to fight the urge to arch into the touch.

   He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at Flambae.

   "And what exactly is gonna happen?"

   Flambae smirked at Sonar's challenge, the look in his eyes turning downright dangerous.

   He tightened his grip on the other man’s hips, just enough to make him feel it.

   "First," Flambae said slowly, deliberately drawing out each word as he spoke right against Sonar’s ear again, "I'm gonna peel that fancy little suit of yours off with my teeth."

   Sonar had to keep in the gasp that threatened to slip past his mouth. Instead, he gently bit down on his bottom lip, his body subtly arching against Flambae’s body.

   A shiver travelled down his spine, and his hands went to Flambae’s shoulders to steady himself.

   Flambae let out a low chuckle at the way Sonar's body reacted to his words.

   He could feel how his body arched, and how he was shifting against him, trying to be subtle about it.

   Flambae loved it.

   He loved that he was able to get the other man feeling so off balance, so needy, so flustered and bothered.

   And he was only getting started.

   "And then," he continued, his voice dropping down even lower than before, "I'm gonna give you the best damn night of your life."

   For a second, Sonar swore his mind went blank.

    There was something about the way Flambae said those words, the hint of promise and confidence in his low, rough voice, combined with the way he had his hands grabbing at his hips…

   Sonar found himself suddenly dizzy with a rush of arousal.

   He swallowed, trying to fight down the urge to moan.

   "Oh, really?" he managed to respond, trying to sound sassy and unaffected, but his voice came out a slight pitch higher than usual. "Big words for a guy like you."

   Flambae's smirk widened at the hitch in Sonar's voice.

   He could clearly see the effect he was having on him. And Sonar's half-assed attempt to pretend he wasn’t a mess right now just added fuel to the fire.

   He slowly ran his hands down over Sonar's ass, before giving it a hard squeeze.

   "Oh, trust me, pretty boy," he said, "I always back up my words. Can you say the same? Hm?"

   The heat Sonar felt coursing through his veins was almost unbearable by now.

   The way Flambae was casually sitting there, teasing him to hell and back with those damn hands of his, was too much for him to handle.

   He had to fight the moan that was threatening to come up, not wanting to give Flambae the satisfaction so soon.

   "Don't get cocky, hotshot," he weakly retorted, trying, and failing, to sound annoyed and uninterested. "I'm not some easy target that you can just have your way with."

   Flambae laughed at that statement, amused by the way Sonar was trying to act cool, but his body was clearly reacting to the opposite.

   He knew he had the other man right where he wanted him. And he was gonna make sure he knew it.

   He pulled Sonar closer, shifting his hips and forcing the smaller man to sit right on top of the very obvious bulge in his pants.

   "Yeah?" he drawled. "And what're you gonna do about it, then?"

   Sonar’s eyes flickered shut, and he took a breath, composing himself. His mind already felt fuzzy from the alcohol, and Flambae’s actions weren’t helping in the slightest.

   He couldn’t even think straight, his body reacting on its own.

   In what could be retaliation, Sonar took advantage of the position Flambae had put him in, rolling his own hips just a bit. He ground down against the other man, letting out a shaky breath, trying to hide just how much this was affecting him, too.

   Flambae let out a sharp exhale through his nose at the way Sonar pressed down against him, the pressure making his head spin.

   His grip on Sonar's hips tightened almost painfully now, as he fought to keep himself from bucking up into that tight little ass of his right there in front of everyone.

   The way the other man was grinding against him, rocking his hips, all with that stupid, little, barely-there smirk on his damn face… It was driving Flambae insane.

   Sonar wasn't playing fair, either, and the bastard knew it, too.

   He leaned forward again, lips brushing just below Sonar’s ear when he spoke next—his voice nothing more than a rough growl.

   "Keep moving like that and I won't wait until we get home."

   Sonar's heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he was afraid it would burst out.

   Flambae's low, rough voice, the feeling of his large hands grabbing his hips, the way he had Sonar held in his lap, straddling him, and hearing that threat being whispered in his ear…

   Sonar found himself shivering in excitement.

   He wanted that—wanted it. He craved it.

   He wanted Flambae to lose all his patience. To take what he wanted. To snap.

   Flambae could feel Sonar shiver, and he smirked against his neck.

   He loved this—loved the way Sonar was unravelling under him, how he was reacting to every little thing Flambae did.

   And yet… that wasn't enough for him.

   No.

   He wanted more than just a reaction—he wanted everything.

   So, with one last glare, Flambae stood up abruptly. He picked Sonar up into his arms, quickly striding towards the restrooms without another word. His grip on the other man’s waist didn’t loosen even slightly as they left the bar—the promise in his eyes clear: This wasn't over.

   Flambae practically kicked through the bathroom doors, shutting them tightly behind them.

   He locked the door with one hand, still carrying Sonar with his other arm, like he weighed nothing.

   Then, he turned them around and backed Sonar up against the nearest flat surface—which happened to be the sink counter.

   The look in Flambae's eyes was vicious, but also filled with a deep, unbridled lust.

   Sonar's back hit the counter with a soft thud as Flambae pinned him there.

   His large hands grabbed Sonar's thighs, forcing his legs to wrap around his waist, and holding him in place, trapped between the counter and the other man. Their chests pressed together, and he could feel Sonar's heart-rate picking up, his breathing turning ragged.

   He had Sonar trapped. Right in the palm of his hand. And he was about to make those trembling thighs of his completely useless.

   Flambae's grin was nothing short of predatory as he watched Sonar’s body arch against his.

   He didn’t need words to know exactly what the other man wanted—he could feel it in the way his hips pressed forward, in how tightly those hands gripped Flambae’s shoulders.

   And yet… Flambae still made him wait.

   With a slow, deliberate movement, he dragged one hand up from Sonar's thigh to trail fingers along the hem of that stupidly tight suit jacket. His nails scratched lightly over fabric before suddenly gripping hard enough to tear at it.

   "Still think I'm all talk?"

   Sonar hated how his body automatically reacted to the way Flambae was holding him against the counter like that—trapped and pinned down. Yet in spite of his body's natural reaction, he tried to cling onto a small bit of composure.

   He shot Flambae a defiant look, despite feeling anything but defiant. If anything, he was more turned on, and was more than eager to see what was going to happen next.

   "I still have my doubts," he huffed, trying to keep up a cool facade. "You haven't proved anything yet, hotshot."

   Flambae's smirk widened at the defiant, and oh-so-cute sass.

   He loved it when Sonar sassed him. It was something else seeing his bratty little bat try to challenge him.

   Flambae wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him lose that cool exterior. He wanted to tear every last bit of that composure apart until the only word he knew was his name.

   With one hand, he gripped the fabric of Sonar's stupid little jacket and yanked, tearing it open, leaving him in a sheer, white button up and red tie.

   Sonar let out a sharp gasp as the fabric of his suit tore under Flambae’s grip. His hands flew up instinctively, trying to push at the other man's chest—but it was useless, considering he had him pinned so tightly against the counter.

   His face burned with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure when Flambae suddenly bared him like this—his shirt now half-open, revealing glimpses of toned skin beneath.

   The way Flambae looked at him sent another shiver down his spine, like Sonar was something to be devoured.

   And yet, despite how exposed he felt, Sonar still managed to glare up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

   "You're such an asshole," he muttered breathlessly—but there was no real heat behind it anymore. Just need.

   Flambae’s grin turned downright feral at the way Sonar squirmed under him, his breath hitching in a way that made Flambae's blood burn hotter.

   He loved how torn open he had him—how Sonar was exposed and panting and still trying to act like this wasn't exactly what he wanted.

   His free hand trailed up from where it gripped the counter, dragging rough fingers over the bare skin of Sonar's chest before suddenly flicking one of his nipples through the thin fabric.

   "Yeah?" Flambae murmured, voice thick with amusement as he watched those pretty white eyes darken with need. "And you're just my little slut who can't even pretend to hate it."

   A shudder ran through Sonar, and he hated how right Flambae was.

   He hated how his body reacted so obviously to the other man's touch—and most of all, he hated how good it felt.

   He opened his mouth, intending on replying with some kind of witty comeback, but the only sound to come out was a sharp gasp as Flambae's hand moved down to palm his growing erection through his pants.

   This wasn’t fair. He wasn't supposed to be the one at Flambae's mercy.

   He let out a tiny whine, frustrated by both his lack of control over the situation, and how long Flambae was drawing this out for.

   Flambae drank in every single sound that escaped Sonar's lips, savoring them like a fine drink as he watched him arch into his palm.

   He could feel how hard Sonar was in those stupid, tight slacks, just from a few simple touches. The knowledge that he had Sonar so desperate and needy, just from being pinned against a sink, was a goddamn power trip.

   "What's the matter, pretty boy?" he drawled, voice low and taunting. "Nothing to say, now?"

   When Sonar didn’t reply, Flambae smirked. His hand moved up, grabbing the other man’s tie. He held it almost like a leash, leading Sonar down to his knees.

   He held him in that position for a moment, eyes taking in the sight of Sonar, looking so good on his knees, like this.

   A rush of heat rushed through him at how pretty he looked, kneeling in front of him like some kind of gift. He looked dishevelled, fur somewhat messy and clothes loose and partially undone.

   Flambae's mind was already running wild just thinking of all the things he wanted to do to this damn brat.

   But there was one thing he wanted to do, right now.

   He gave the tie a sharp tug, forcing Sonar's head just a little bit closer.

   "Open."

   That was all it took.

   Flambae's voice was low, sensual, and filled to the brim with command.

   That one, simple order held more power than any other word, and both of them knew it.

   And despite Sonar's earlier sass and attitude, he didn't hesitate, not for even a second.

   He opened his mouth obediently, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

   Flambae's eyes darkened at the way Sonar obeyed so easily, the submission in the way he knelt in front of him, already so pliant and eager.

   He took a second to admire how damn pretty he looked right now, already so desperate and willing. And that tongue, poking out like that—

   He felt that low heat in his stomach grow hotter, just at the sight alone.

   "Good boy," he purred, tone filled with satisfaction. "That's it. Open wide."

   His free hand worked to remove his uniform, the other keeping Sonar in place.

   Sonar's breath hitched as he watched Flambae free himself, his length thick and heavy in front of him.

   He wanted it—so badly that his hands twitched at his sides, aching for the pleasure he desired so badly for the past while.

   Sonar stared up at Flambae with wide eyes filled with anticipation and need. He kept obediently still as instructed—but the way he subconsciously licked those lips told Flambae everything:

   He was ready.

   Flambae let out a rough exhale, watching Sonar's tongue flick over those plush lips.

   He could see the hunger in his eyes—the way he ached for it—and that only made Flambae want to tease him more.

   With one hand gripping the back of Sonar’s head, he slowly guided himself forward until the tip brushed against his parted lips.

   "Go on," Flambae murmured, voice thick with need as he held himself there—letting Sonar feel just how much heat there was between them before finally pushing past that soft mouth.

   When those wet lips wrapped around him, he nearly lost all control right there and then.

   Flambae groaned at the feeling of Sonar's mouth on him—hot, wet, and so damn eager.

   He didn't hesitate to fuck into that tight little throat with shallow thrusts, his grip tightening in Sonar’s fur as he held him right where he wanted.

   "Yeah?" Flambae rasped between breaths, hips stuttering forward when those sharp fangs grazed his sensitive skin just right. "You like being my toy? Huh?"

   The bathroom echoed with lewd sounds: slick suction around Flambae's cock; muffled whimpers spilling past swollen lips whenever air got too scarce for comfort… It was obscene how good it felt, having someone who normally acted so untouchable reduced to this.

   It was almost too much. The way Sonar's mouth was so warm, the way his tongue moved against him, the way he looked, so wrecked and desperate as he let Flambae use him.

   Flambae couldn't take his eyes off him—couldn't stop himself from staring at those pretty white eyes, watering up with every second he was left waiting, gasping for air—

   And yet, his mouth stayed open, taking everything Flambae gave to him like he was made for it, like he belonged like that. Like he was made for this— for being used.

   Flambae hissed when Sonar’s tongue swirled around him like that, his grip in the other man's fur tightening to an almost painful degree.

   That damn bat was playing dirty—taking him deeper with every desperate swallow, those sharp fangs scraping just enough to make Flambae see stars.

   He could feel himself losing control fast, hips jerking forward on their own as he fucked into that tight little throat harder now, chasing the way Sonar gurgled around him and how his tear-filled eyes locked onto Flambae’s with such helpless devotion.

   His chest rose and fell heavily as sweat beaded along his brow; his hands still tangled tightly in Sonar’s grey fur while catching glimpses of that spit-slick mouth panting around him.

   Flambae saw it—felt it. The exact moment Sonar realised he wasn’t just being used, but utterly, completely ruined for anyone else.

   His cock throbbed violently at the thought alone—how this smug little bat was going to walk around knowing exactly what Flambae had done to him tonight. How every time someone else tried touching him, all Sonar would feel would be how his throat still ached from it being fucked raw.

   A dark chuckle left Flambae’s lips. He kept up the punishing pace with rough snaps of his hips into that wet heat.

   "Gonna remember who owns you?" he growled out between gritted teeth. His voice was rougher than before as he watched those tear-filled eyes glaze over even more.

   Those words hit hard—and Sonar whined in response, his entire frame trembling as he tried to take those hard, powerful thrusts into his throat.

   Even though his eyes were watering and he could barely breathe, he looked so damn blissful like this. Completely wrecked and at Flambae’s mercy, with not even a hint of sober shame in it.

   Flambae’s entire body burned at the sight of Sonar like this—his pretty little bat, wrecked and trembling on his knees, looking so pleased about it.

   He couldn't hold back anymore—not when he had him just like this. Not when every choked noise Sonar made only spurred Flambae to fuck deeper into his tight throat.

   "Fffuck," he groaned out as his hips stuttered forward one last time—burying himself completely down to the hilt while holding Sonar in place with bruising force.

   His release hit hard. Thick ropes of cum pumped straight into that greedy little mouth without warning or mercy.

   The bathroom echoed with lewd sounds—wet swallowing around oversensitive flesh, and muffled whimpers spilling past swollen lips.

   Flambae didn't pull out immediately. He stayed buried to the hilt, watching Sonar with a satisfied smirk as he swallowed every last drop like the good little slut he was.

   When he finally slipped free—with an obscenely wet pop—he tilted Sonar’s chin up with one finger, forcing the other man to look at him.

   "Look at you," Flambae murmured, voice rough and thick with arousal still lingering in his tone. "All messy and used up."

   He ran his thumb over those spit-slick lips before roughly wiping it against Sonar's cheekbone—marking him just for fun.

   "You gonna behave now?"

   Sonar didn't respond for a good second or two. He was still trying to gather his bearings, his entire body trembling from the aftershock, and he looked completely wrecked. That cocky attitude was nowhere to be seen.

   He was panting, his breathing ragged as if he had just run a damn marathon. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out expect for a hoarse, little sound.

   It only got worse with how sore his throat was, and it took him a moment before he could croak out a response.

   "Y—yeah."

   Flambae's heart thumped a little harder at that hoarse, broken whisper. Sonar sounded completely wrecked—his voice hoarse and barely there.

   Flambae's smirk widened at the sound, his eyes darkening with something like pride. He couldn't deny that the knowledge of breaking the other man apart like this gave him an undeniable, heady sense of power.

   He gently ran his fingers through Sonar's messy, damp fur, a mockingly tender touch.

   “You sure, pretty boy?" he drawled, tone almost smug.

   Sonar could only manage a nod, this time.

   Flambae leaned down, cupping Sonar's jaw with one hand. He brought their faces closer together, and his expression was full of mock-pity as he inspected the little bat.

   "You're a mess," he mused, gently swiping at the wet tears staining his cheeks. “You can barely even talk now."

   Flambae clicked his tongue and chuckled lowly. He knew damn well he was the reason for the other man's current state.

   "Poor thing. Can't take much now, can you?"

   Sonar whined again, his face burning with embarrassment at the mockery.

   He couldn't form any coherent thoughts, much less a response that could even attempt to defend his wounded pride. He couldn't deny that he was indeed a mess—and that Flambae was solely responsible for it.

   He hated it.

   He hated that Flambae had brought him to this point with a single look.

   He hated how the other man's every touch was like fuel to the fire burning inside him.

   And most of all... he hated how damn good it made him feel.

   Flambae loved it.

   He loved the way Sonar squirmed under him, all red-faced and embarrassed like this—like he couldn't decide whether to glare or beg for more.

   His thumb pressed against the other man's bottom lip, rubbing over it roughly before pulling down just enough to expose his tongue again.

   "You're so pathetic," Flambae murmured with a smirk—though there was no real bite behind his words now. "Getting off on being treated like my personal fucktoy."

   Flambae knew the exact moment Sonar’s body gave in—when his resistance melted away and he just let himself be taken apart completely, when he surrendered to every filthy thing Flambae wanted from him.

   His smirk widened as he watched those white eyes glaze over with pure need, how Sonar’s hips pressed up against nothing but air like a damn desperate bitch.

   "Oh?" Flambae hummed lowly, dragging his fingers down from Sonar's lip to grip roughly at the front of his ruined shirt instead. "You want me to ruin you even more? Hm?"

   He could feel it—the way Sonar shuddered under him at those words alone; how hard this little bat was still straining inside those tight pants despite already being wrecked beyond belief.

   "You really are something else."

   Flambae didn't even give him the chance to respond.

   He roughly pulled the other man up by the front of his shirt, before hauling his over his shoulder.

   Sonar let out a small gasp, but didn’t protest otherwise.

   Without another word, Flambae started towards the door, swiftly exiting the bathroom, and soon stepping outside The Sadine.

   He began to fly, using a hand to keep Sonar in place.

   The air was cold, harsh against Sonar's bare skin as they flew.

   His body still trembled from the aftermath of what they had done in that bathroom, though he kept quiet, staying still and silent on top of Flambae's shoulder.

   Flambae didn't look back at him, his expression unreadable as he continued flying over the city.

   It was completely silent between them—not a single word was said.

   Sonar could only hold on tight as they travelled through the night sky, the wind ruffling his messy fur.

   Flambae could feel the other man's heart beat against his back, the subtle trembles as if he was still trying to come down from all that before.

   He could still taste both him and the alcohol on his tongue, and it only served to rile him up even more.

   He quickened his pace, not bothering to say anything. He knew where he wanted to take Sonar.

   They arrived at Flambae's apartment soon afterwards.

   As soon as they landed on his balcony, Flambae threw open the glass door with more force than needed before stepping inside. With Sonar still in his grip, he kicked the door shut behind him and locked it.

   He set Sonar down on his feet for the first time since they left the restroom—only to then push him back against the wall.

   He took a step closer, caging the other man against the wall with his body.

  "You look damn good like this."

   Flambae let out a rough exhale through his nose, watching the way Sonar's body still trembled against him—how he was so obviously still affected.

   His hand shot out, gripping Sonar’s chin and forcing their gazes to meet. His thumb dragged over the other man's kiss-swollen lips.

   "Yeah? You gonna pass out on me?" Flambae taunted, though there was no real bite behind it now—just something darkly pleased in how wrecked this little bat had gotten for him already.

   He leaned down until their foreheads nearly touched again; close enough that when he spoke next it came out as nothing more than a heated murmur.

   "Better not fucking faint before I'm done with you."

Chapter Text

   Sonar stared at Flambae, and the other man stared back.

   The full realisation of what they had done last night was… something, to say the least.

   Neither of them knew what to say, just quietly staring at one another once more.

   Flambae’s fingers twitched at his sides, awkwardly sitting on the bed with Sonar just a few inches away from him.

   "... So." Flambae started, voice uncharacteristically hesitant now that they were both sober. His usual arrogance was still there—just buried under something else entirely. “Are we gonna pretend that didn't happen?"

   Sonar slowly nodded. “… Yeah, I think so.”

   Sonar himself seemed uncertain. If the others found out that they had spent the night together… they’d never hear the end of it.

   Flambae felt an odd pang in his chest at that answer.

   He knew that was the smart thing to do.

   Hell—it was the only logical thing to do.

   And yet, he couldn't help this irrational, frustrated irritation that flared up at hearing that response.

   "Right,” he muttered out, voice carefully even now. An unfamiliar ache settled in his chest and he clenched his jaw. "Yeah… Probably for the best."

   Neither spoke for a while after that.

   They just sat there in an awkward, tense silence.

   Flambae tried to ignore the strange feeling in his chest.

   His mind kept replaying the events from last night—how good it had been to touch him, to have him all to himself, to hear him moan and beg like that.

   It was infuriating how he wouldn't be able to get that out of his head anytime soon, how he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself now that he'd gotten his taste.

   Sonar cleared his throat after a while. The silence was starting to get awkward.

   He began to get up from the bed, but paused, looking down. He pulled back, tugging the covers over his body once more.

   “… Got anything I could wear?”

   Flambae looked up at that question, his eyes trailing idly over the way the sheets covered Sonar's body. He could still see the marks from last night, littered over his pale skin.

   His fingers itched at the sight, an irrational urge to touch him again washing over him as he looked the other man up and down.

   Flambae forced himself to look away.

   "... Yeah,” he replied, voice rough.

   He pointed towards a closet across the room.

   "Over there. Top shelf."

   Sonar followed where Flambae pointed to, before looking back at Flambae himself.

   “Could you… look away for a minute?” he asked.

   Flambae raised an eyebrow at the request, though he obeyed anyway. With an exaggerated sigh, he turned his head completely around and faced away from Sonar.

   His eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him, but that didn't stop him from listening as the sheets rustled and shifted behind him.

   Sonar got up from the bed, walking over to the closet. He moved quietly, looking through the closet for something that fit him and didn’t look too garish.

   Eventually, he picked out a simple white tee and black shorts.

   He started to dress himself, slipping on the shorts, before pulling the shirt over his head.

   Despite his best efforts, Flambae couldn't help himself.

   When he heard the rustling of fabric behind him, he peeked over his shoulder to get a glimpse, unable to resist.

   The shirt was a little baggy on Sonar, the sleeves running a little too long, but it still looked oddly good, hanging loosely off his lean frame.

   As soon as he caught himself admiring him again, he quickly turned away to face the wall again.

   What the hell was wrong with him?

   He had to remind himself it was just a hook up.

   It didn't matter that he looked great.

   It didn't matter how the soft material of the shirt hung off his body, highlighting every damn muscle.

   Or how the shorts were slightly loose, exposing pale, but toned thighs.

   It didn't matter that all those marks he left last night were still visible on his skin.

   Flambae was not getting attached. Not a chance in hell.

   He kept staring at the wall in front of him, trying to maintain his usual indifference, but his mind kept replaying last night's events.

   The way he'd been so damn eager.

   How he'd melted so perfectly against him.

   All those pretty, little sounds he made, and the way he gasped out his name—

   Flambae clenched his jaw at the thought.

   Damnit. What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a lovesick idiot.

   He never acted like this. He never got attached to anyone like this.

   And yet, here he was, with some random hook-up, acting like a total moron about it.

   It was frustrating how he couldn't get this damn bat out of his head.

   Flambae was supposed to be indifferent. Cool, calm, cocky—and he was not supposed to get so hung up like this.

   Especially not over a one-night stand with the team's resident smartass.

   Flambae finally turned back around when he heard Sonar moving about. His gaze immediately snapped to the other’s skin, scanning for any sign of his marks—any proof that this had happened at all.

   But there was nothing visible.

   The bastard had clearly hidden them under that shirt, and it pissed Flambae off more than he cared to admit.

   His jaw tightened as his eyes flicked up towards Sonar's face again, taking in the way those ears flicked and twitched. It was as if he sensed Flambae’s irritation, but didn’t understanding why exactly he seemed so bothered by something so small.

   "... What?" Flambae grumbled out. "You look fine."

   It came out rougher than intended—almost accusingly like an insult rather than reassurance.

   Sonar raised an eyebrow at his tone. He tilted his head again, not quite understanding the reason Flambae was so irritated.

   It was just a shirt, for crying out loud. The look on Flambae's face, the way he was behaving… He was almost disgruntled.

   And it was over a goddamn shirt.

   Sonar crossed his arms, eyeing the other man for a moment, before asking the most logical question that came to mind.

   "... Are you pissed that I'm wearing your shirt?"

   Flambae's jaw instinctively clenched at that question.

   He could feel the irritation flare up inside him, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

   Of course he was pissed. The damn thing was too big on Sonar. Sonar, who was smaller and leaner and more slender than him. Sonar, who looked so goddamn good in it. Sonar, who had no right to just be going around, wearing his damn shirt like an entitled little—

   "So what if I am?" he snapped out without thinking.

   As soon as the words left his tongue, Flambae mentally kicked himself.

   He sounded like a goddamn idiot. An unreasonable, jealous idiot who was getting way too bent out of shape over something so trivial.

   But it was too late to take it back now.

   Sonar was already staring back at him, eyebrows raised, and his eyes flicking up and down like he was silently judging him, or worse—thinking he was being cute about it.

   He clenched his jaw again in annoyance, feeling heat rising up into his face.

   "What? Don't look at me like that.”

   Sonar just scoffed. “It’s a shirt, man. Why’re you getting so pent up over a shirt?”

   He looked down at the shirt. It was a normal shirt—plain and clean. And then, Sonar seemed to connect the dots.

   He looked back up at Flambae.

   A hand went to slowly tug the garment, pulling it slightly so one of his shoulders was revealed, as well as a dark purple bruise on his collarbone.

   He carefully watched Flambae’s reaction.

   Flambae's gaze dropped automatically to Sonar's shoulder, zeroing in on the bruise he'd left there.

   It was a dark, possessive mark - an obvious indication that those were his doing.

   The sight alone was enough to soothe the agitation in his chest, but he tried desperately to keep a cool, aloof expression.

   His eyes flicked back up, meeting Sonar's gaze. "... I like seeing my marks on you."

   Sonar was taken aback by the admission, but he forced a laugh out.

   This entire situation was… complicated, and right now, complicated was the last thing he needed. The Z-team were raking in successes, but their enemies were getting stronger, too. Not to mention the pressure they all had to preform better. Otherwise, they’d potentially get cut.

   “That’s stupid,” Sonar huffed, a taunting smirk curving the corner of his mouth.

   Flambae flinched at the sound of that laugh—sharp, derisive, and way too amused for his liking.

   His entire body tensed as Sonar’s fingers traced over the bruise like it was some kind of joke. Like he was some kind of joke to him now.

   Flambae didn’t even realise he’d moved until his hand shot out and grabbed Sonar by the wrist—tight enough to sting but not hard enough to actually hurt. Too much, at least. His eyes burned into Sonar with a dangerous mix of fury and something far more vulnerable beneath it all.

   "Shut up," he growled through gritted teeth.

   He yanked him closer in one sharp motion, forcing their chests flush against each other again just so Flambae could get right in his face while practically snarling.

   "You don't get mock me when you're still covered in my fucking fingerprints."

   Sonar fell quiet for a moment, but he managed an indifferent stare, along with a single, raised brow.

   “Uh-huh. Okay. Whatever you say,” he scoffed again.

   He tugged his hand out of Flambae’s grip, crossing his arms again. He turned to leave the bedroom, looking over his shoulder.

   “Just get changed. We gotta go to work soon.”

   Flambae’s entire body locked up at that like he’d just been doused in ice water.

   His fingers twitched where they'd just been wrapped around Sonar's wrist, still feeling the heat of his skin against them. The way he so casually dismissed him made something inside Flambae snap.

   "Work?" Flambae repeated lowly, voice thick with something dangerous now—something sharp-edged and barely restrained beneath all those layers of irritation.

   He moved himself between Sonar and the door.

   "You think I give a single fuck about work right now? After last night?"

   “Well, you should, otherwise Robert’s gonna cut your ass,” Sonar replied.

   He walked around Flambae.

   “So if you don’t mind, I need to get work so I don’t get cut.”

   Flambae’s blood boiled at the way Sonar just walked right around him like he was nothing—like last night hadn’t happened.

   His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening with how hard he was gripping them now. Fire sparked from his hands, but they soon died down.

   As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Sonar was right—they couldn’t risk getting cut, not now.

   Flambae kept his gaze on him for a moment, his jaw clenched and his breaths coming out harsh and laboured as he tried to control the boiling rage in his chest.

   That familiar, infuriating arrogance was back and it made Flambae want to—well. He didn’t want to think that far ahead, knowing he'd probably do something he couldn't recover from if he went there.

   He finally looked away and took a few steps back, running a hand through his hair.

   "Jesus, you piss me off so much," he muttered under his breath.

   Flambae stalked over to his closet to grab some clothes and start getting changed.

   He could feel the anger slowly subsiding, but there was still something heavy in his chest. Something dark, possessive.

   His eyes kept flicking over to Sonar, watching him move around so casually—almost like they hadn't just slept together last night.

   God, could this guy always be this infuriating? Or did he just enjoy getting on Flambae's last nerve?

   Either option seemed like hell to him.

   He quickly got dressed into some clothes.

Chapter Text

   They arrived at the building, Flambae just behind Sonar.

   Sonar walked through the doors of the SDN headquarters, his strides smug and collected, as always. His hips swayed a little, ear flitting a bit as he got accustomed to the noisy atmosphere. He began making his way to the boardroom, to meet the other members of the Z-team, as they usually did in the morning.

   Flambae kept his expression carefully neutral as he followed Sonar through the halls, but inside, he was seething.

   The way that little bat walked—like nothing had happened between them—was maddening.

   He couldn’t decide if it pissed him off more or made him want to drag him into some supply closet and remind him exactly who owned those bruises on his skin.

   Flambae clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead, doing his best to keep up in that infuriatingly smooth gait—though his own strides didn't hold the same cocky confidence.

   How could Sonar just be so… casual about last night?

   His mind kept flashing back to how Sonar had looked under him. He couldn't get those whines and gasps out of his head, and it pissed him off.

   His mind had been replaying it over and over again—over and over.

Goddammit. He needed to get a grip.

   As he and Sonar entered the boardroom, Flambae caught sight of the others already gathered inside. It seemed they were the latest to arrive.

   Despite his best efforts to focus on anything but Sonar, Flambae could still catch the subtle scent of the other man's cologne with some effort.

   It was sweet, floral, with a hint of spice. It suited him.

   Flambae clenched his jaw again, hating the way that familiar scent made his stomach flutter.

   They took their usual seats at the table, as they always did.

   Flambae sat next to Sonar, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the wall.

   He could still feel him. Feel the heat from the other man's body, could remember the way he'd looked last night, those sounds he'd made.

   They all were just memories now, and he knew that he wouldn't be getting those again anytime soon.

   This was for the best, he told himself. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

   Everyone started making conversation, but Flambae didn't even bother trying. His thoughts kept returning to Sonar—how he'd made it abundantly clear that last night meant nothing.

   The memory of those words alone had him fuming.

   Flambae tried to drown out those thoughts by focusing on the others' conversation, but every time he tried, he ended up catching a glimpse of Sonar.

   Sonar, who was laughing along with the others.

   Sonar, who was acting like it was just another normal day—when just hours ago he'd been coming apart underneath him.

   Sonar seemed completely at ease amongst the others. Laughing at their jokes, casually replying when he was asked a question, and contributing to whatever conversation was being held.

   He was the picture of normalcy, and it infuriated Flambae. He knew it was stupid to be so worked up over this, but he couldn't help it.

   He kept stealing glances over at him, and every time he did, he'd see those damn marks he left visible on Sonar's shoulder.

   When the others weren't looking, Flambae shifted a hand under the table, slowly pressing it against Sonar’s thigh.

   Sonar turned to face him just slightly, giving him a look that asked him, what are you doing?

   Flambae’s smirk widened—got him.

   He could practically feel Sonar’s pulse jump under his fingertips, and it sent a thrill through him. He knew the other man was trying to keep up appearances, but Flambae wasn’t about to let that slide. Not when he had this kind of power over him.

   His thumb pressed in just enough to leave another bruise as revenge for last night's dismissal.

   As all the others continued to chat amongst themselves, Flambae leaned over to talk quietly in Sonar's ear, his hand still firmly pressed against his thigh and that smirk still in place.

   His voice was low and dangerous, and he knew no one else would hear him.

   “Having fun?" he asked, his tone almost mocking.

   Sonar stiffened in response, shooting Flambae an annoyed glance. He was clearly trying to maintain that cool, uncaring expression, but Flambae could see the way his ears twitched in agitation.

   He was tempted to swat Flambae’s hand away, but he soon came up with a different idea.

   He knew it was stupid and petty, but he couldn’t help himself.

   Sonar didn’t verbally respond, but he did, psychically. He glanced around the table, making sure no one could see as he hooked his leg over one of Flambae’s.

   Flambae had to fight down a noise at that, his own pulse stuttering.

   This little brat.

   Just to be a bastard, he pushed his knee between Sonar's legs, making sure to press against him roughly.

   He let his thigh brush over his crotch deliberately, all while keeping up the conversation around them like nothing was wrong.

   A breathless squeak left Sonar. His breath grew a but heavier, but he didn’t relent. He wasn’t about to just give up like that and let Flambae win this secret, petty “fight” between them.

   He took a breath, before starting to rub against Flambae’s leg. He moved slowly, as to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.

   Flambae’s entire body tensed at the slow, deliberate movement against his thigh.

   His jaw clenched so hard he was sure he'd cracked a tooth by now.

   He could feel Sonar’s breathing hitch—could hear that quiet little noise of frustration—and it only made him want to push further just to see how far this brat would go before breaking.

   With one sharp motion, Flambae squeezed his knee tighter between Sonar's legs and leaned in close again, his voice dropping into a rough whisper right against his ear.

   "Careful," Flambae warned lowly, "or I'll make you come right here in front of everyone."

   The threat alone had goosebumps prickling against his skin. Sonar had to fight down an involuntary shiver. He couldn’t afford to break so easily. He wasn't going to let this bastard get the best of him.

   So, he just smirked and leaned back a little. His own leg inched closer towards the spot in between Flambae’s.

   "Try me," he murmured back quietly, his words both challenging and defiant.

   Oh, he was really pushing the line now.

   Flambae couldn't help but find the other man's defiance so damn attractive.

   So cocky and confident—so defiant.

   It was infuriating.

   Flambae clenched his jaw, fingers gripping hard against Sonar's thigh—though that was also partially to keep himself grounded.

   The thought of making this little brat break in front of everyone, of seeing how deep that blush could go—it was almost too tantalizing.

   He leaned in yet again and murmured right against his ear.

   "Don't tempt me."

   Flambae hated that smug look on Sonar’s face.

   It was like he knew—like he knew Flambae wouldn’t actually do it here, not when they were all in the middle of a damn meeting and one wrong move could get them both caught.

   And yet…

   His fingers dug harder into his thigh now, pressing up just enough to make Sonar shift uncomfortably under the table.

   He let out a quiet scoff through gritted teeth as Sonar chuckled again like nothing was happening between them. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone who had no idea how close he really was to being bent over this very table right there and then.

   Reality crashed back down on top of them both when they heard Robert's voice snap sharply across the table.

   "Flambae."

   The tone was firm enough that it made both men freeze where they were sitting. Sonar still had his leg hooked over Flambae’s, whilst Flambae had his hand on Sonar’s thigh.

   Robert shot them an unamused look.

   "Are you two paying attention?"

   The rest of the Z team—Invisagal, Golem, Punch Up, Coupé, Prism, and Malevola—turned to face them.

   A few of them gave the two of them a particular look, as if they suspected something. Others just looked amused.

   Oh damn it all.

   Flambae let out a sharp huff of breath and forced his expression to stay as neutral as possible as he looked back at Robert.

   He didn’t move his hand or his leg away—instead, he kept it firmly in place under the table. He hoped to whatever god damn higher being there was that none of the others could see anything amiss from where they were sitting.

   "Yeah," he ground out in a somewhat strained voice. "We're paying attention."

   It was a blatant goddamn lie, and Flambae knew it.

   At this point, he couldn't focus on the meeting at hand, not when he could feel the heat of Sonar's skin beneath his hand. Not when he could see that little smirk and just knew that the smug brat was enjoying all this. It made his jaw clench involuntarily.

   He was so focused on the other man that he hardly noticed the way the others kept giving each other knowing glances.

   This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

   Sonar couldn’t help it, the smirk spread across his face before he knew it.

   He was aware that if someone realised what they were doing, Flambae would be getting shit on. More than him, at least. And that was worth it.

   The only thing Sonar was worried about getting out was what they did last night.

   He pushed the concern aside for the moment, instead starting to slowly and purposefully rub his knee against Flambae’s groin.

   Flambae choked.

   His entire body locked up as Sonar’s knee pressed right where he was already half-hard from this entire exchange. His fingers dug in hard enough to bruise now, his teeth grinding together so tightly that it hurt.

   He could feel the heat creeping up into his face—could hear a few of the others snickering under their breath—and yet he still couldn't bring himself to pull away.

   Instead, Flambae leaned towards Sonar, and bit out through clenched teeth.

   "Sonar.”

   It wasn't a warning—it was a full-blown threat.

   Sonar, however, was not about to back down.

   He gave Flambae a cheeky, smug little smirk. He loved seeing that usually cool composure get so ruffled like this. He loved being the reason behind it.

   He moved again. He pressed his knee against Flambae again, this time in a deliberate, slow movement that was far too sensual for them both to be doing under a conference table.

   He could see the faint blush on Flambae's face, as well as the way the others were watching them intently.

   Flambae’s entire body went rigid.

   His vision nearly whited out at the slow, deliberate press of Sonar's knee against him—fuck, he was so close to losing it right there in front of everyone.

   He barely managed to keep his composure as a few more snickers broke out around the table—Malevola covering her mouth, and Prism nudging Coupé with an amused grin.

   Robert sighed loudly and rubbed at his temples like this was giving him a migraine.

   “Flambae.”

   Flambae could feel the heat in his face now—could see Malevola grinning behind her hand like she was watching the best show of her life, whilst Golem looked like he was trying to figure out if this was violating SDN’s HR.

   He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady when Robert continued.

   “We have a briefing on hostile activity in downtown in five minutes.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, “Unless you two would rather be assigned separate missions?”

   The mere idea of being split up—of being forced to go on a different mission for the day, away from each other—had Flambae panicking internally, despite the bored and indifferent look he tried to put on.

   He did the one thing he could think of to try and keep himself composed—he pinched the underside of Sonar's thigh, hard. The action pulled a small wince from Sonar.

   "No," Flambae ground out in a low hiss between gritted teeth. "We'll be on our best behaviour."

   The others were clearly not convinced. It was obvious that they all knew that things were getting heated below the table.

   Malevola kept hiding her smile behind her hand, whilst Prism looked like she was having the best time of her life—grinning wide as she watched Flambae try and act as though he wasn't losing his composure.

   Meanwhile, all Robert did was sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

   “I'm holding you two to that promise."

   And with that, the meeting was dismissed.

   Sonar got up, straightening out his clothes as he sauntered towards the exit. He was walking as if he hadn’t spent the entire meeting teasing and riling Flambae up.

   Flambae just sat there for a few moments. He had to take a moment to compose himself, breathing in and out deeply as he tried to will that damnable blush from creeping up his face further.

   He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and he knew that the others were going to be hounding him with questions about just what the hell he and Sonar thought they were doing.

   Robert was the first to get up from the table, his face pinched like he was a parent having to deal with some misbehaving children—or, in this case, a pair of horny morons.

   He walked over to Flambae and spoke in a lowered voice to avoid being overheard.

   "Flambae. A word."

   Flambae looked up at Robert and tried to act as natural and neutral as he could.

   "What is it?" he asked, his voice gruff and gravelly like it usually was.

   Robert crossed his arms, fixing him with an unamused look.

   “Tell me what's going on between you and Sonar."

   Flambae blinked in surprise, but tried to play the question off as nonchalantly as possible.

   "What're you talking about?"

   His voice was a little too casual, and Robert's eyes narrowed at the tone. It was clear that he didn't buy it for a second.

   Robert leaned closer, speaking in a low, warning tone.

   "Cut the bullshit, Flambae. I saw what you two were doing under the table."

   Flambae kept the neutral expression on his face, but he could feel that heat creeping into his cheeks again. Internally, he was thankful the rest of the Z-team, Sonar included, were outside.

   God damnit. How the hell did Robert see that?

   He kept his voice level, but he clenched his jaw as he spoke.

   "We weren't doing anything."

   Robert just rolled his eyes.

   "Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Then by all means, explain why your hand was on his thigh before—and how his knee was pressed between your legs the entire duration of that meeting."

   Flambae could feel the heat in his face growing hotter. Why the hell did Robert have to phrase it like that?

   He kept his jaw clenched, avoiding eye-contact with Robert. "That... wasn't anything."

   Robert was not amused at that response. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers again.

   Robert let out a slow, deep breath—like he was physically restraining himself from strangling Flambae right then and there.

   His tone was dangerously calm when he spoke next.

   "You better not be messing around with Sonar." He paused for emphasis before continuing, "Because if I find out you two are screwing each other during work hours—"

   Flambae opened his mouth to protest but Robert cut him off sharply.

   "—then you'll both be on separate missions for the rest of the month."

   The threat hung heavy in the air between them as Robert's eyes bore into Flambae like lasers.

   The very idea of being kept apart from each other for a whole month made Flambae's heart sink to his stomach.

   He knew he was getting more worked up than he should have, but damn it, he needed to be around Sonar.

   He swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his thoughts. He was being irrational here—he was acting way too goddamn possessive over someone who didn't belong to him.

   He forced a scoff, trying to sound nonchalant.

   "We're not screwing."

   Robert raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the act.

   "Oh, so you're telling me you're just friends then?"

   That made his jaw clench again.

   He hated to admit it, but even the thought of being reduced to just "friends" with Sonar was like a blow to the gut.

   The worst part was that Robert's question had hit the nail right on the head.

   Flambae wasn't sure what the hell he and Sonar were at this point, and he certainly wasn't about to admit that to Robert.

   Flambae's head snapped toward the door where Sonar had just walked in.

   The other man was dressed back in his suit, likely having a spare in his locker.

   His eyes narrowed instantly, his body tensing as he took in that smug little smirk on the other man’s face—the one that said he’d heard everything.

   Flambae didn’t even care about Robert anymore at this point. He just wanted to strangle Sonar right then and there for having such a goddamn cocky expression when they were basically being threatened with separation.

   Robert sighed again like Flambae was giving him an aneurysm, rubbing at his temples once more before leveling both of them with an unamused look.

   “You two are going on patrol together,” he stated flatly. “And if I catch you two messing around mid-mission? You're both benched for a week.”

   Flambae looked like he wanted to set something—or someone—ablaze immediately.

   This was so fucked up already and it hadn't even started yet.

   Sonar barely suppressed another laugh behind Robert's back.

   He adjusted his tie, smirking all the whilst.

   To him, it was hilarious, how worked up Flambae got. The other man was acting like Robert was threatening to never let them see each other. And, even then, it wasn’t like they couldn’t just go behind Robert’s back after their shifts.

   Flambae clenched his teeth so hard he would be surprised if they weren't cracked.

   That smug goddamn look on Sonar's face was driving him insane.

   He wanted to push him into the nearest supply closet and smack that smirk right off his face.

   The very fact that he couldn't just grab Sonar by his shirt collar and drag him somewhere private and mark him up again was practically driving him insane.

   And Sonar was enjoying every single goddamn second of it. Flambae could just see the way the bastard's stupid little ears were perked up, and how he kept adjusting the lapels of his jacket like he won the lottery or something.

   He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving Flambae to his absolute goddamn limit.

   There was no doubt in Flambae's mind that Sonar was having the time of his life at his expense.

   He's probably enjoying this, the smug, sadistic little—

   Before he could let his thoughts spiral further, Robert snapped his fingers and brought Flambae back to the present.

   He didn't even have to say anything else. It was clear that Robert was stern about them taking their jobs seriously.

   Flambae's jaw was clenched so hard he had to force the words out through gritted teeth.

   "Fine, fine. Whatever. We won’t ‘mess around,’” he scoffed, walking out the doors. “Fucking hardass…”

   Sonar wasn’t too far behind. He walked beside Flambae, almost too casually. He adjusted the cuffs of his shirts, his strides confident, contrasting against Flambae’s much more tense and irritated gait.

   Flambae was doing everything he could not to turn around and punch Sonar right in that smug ass face of his.

   How was he so goddamn calm?

   Did he not hear that threat Robert just made? Didn't he realise the danger they were in of being split up until further notice?

   Of course he did. And of course he didn’t care. He was far too busy being his usual smug, cocky self to care about it, about Flambae.

   It didn't help that the bastard was walking like he owned the entire goddamn world. His strides were brisk and confident, and even his shoes sounded just a little too arrogant as they connected with the floor.

   Flambae clenched his jaw and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, trying desperately to ignore the irritating way Sonar's shoes clicked against the hallway floor.

   Those damn things were so polished, Flambae could almost see his reflection in them. It was like the other man was just begging to be knocked down a few pegs.

   He let out an irritated scoff before he could help himself.

   "Your ego is so damn big,“ he sneered, “you probably need a wheelbarrow to carry it.”

   It was just a little remark, nothing more than a jab.

   Sonar's smirk widened at that, his head tilting idly to the side as he looked at Flambae smugly.

   God, if Flambae wasn't so attracted to him, he would have punched those perfect teeth right out of his smug face.

   "You're just mad I look better in a suit than you do," he drawled, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

   He even had the audacity to glance Flambae up and down, eyes lingering for a split second longer than necessary, before tearing away. He glanced around the sky, searching for where exactly Robert had stationed them.

   There was a retort right at the tip of Flambae's tongue, but he swallowed it back. He was not going to play into Sonar's little games right now.

   He rolled his eyes instead, trying desperately not to think about how good Sonar looked.

   A small huff of air left him as he followed the other man's gaze. The bastard thought he was so damn cheeky, strutting around like he owned the place.

   "So," Flambae said dryly, “where's Robert's dumbass got us stationed for today?"

   Sonar shrugged, still as casual as ever, though even he looked less than pleased to get that assignment.

   "Some warehouse or whatever just on the outskirts of the city. Something about a 'large disturbance'."

   He sighed slightly, and sounded almost exasperated.

   "Apparently, it's been too much for the cops to handle by themselves," he continued. “… Even though it’s just watching the place.”

   Flambae snorted and rolled his eyes.

   "Of course it has, it's a bunch of cops," he muttered dryly. "The idiots probably just stood around in the middle of the street while the place burned around them.”

   Sonar couldn't help but let out a scoff at that.

   "You're probably right," he agreed.

   Sonar wasn't exactly fond of working with the local law enforcement, either. The cops were always way too trigger happy and far too stupid to know what they were doing on the best of days. It was a miracle that none of the civilians had gotten shot during their operations because of them yet.

   Sonar ran his fingers through his fur, trying to ignore how hot it was with his suit.

   "Hopefully we'll be done quick."

   If the cops were involved, they were practically doomed to be there for hours already.

   Just the thought made Flambae's jaw clench again.

   Goddammit. He would rather spend his time doing anything else than monitor some building for hours on end.

   He hated stake-outs. They were always so boring.

   "Of course we won't," he grumbled darkly. "I'm pretty sure Robert's just been looking for an excuse to keep us busy for hours."

   Sonar let out a quiet snort of agreement.

   He had no doubts that Robert had given them this shitty assignment just to avoid dealing with their bullshit.

   And Sonar wouldn't put it past him to make sure they were there the entire day, maybe even longer.

   "Probably," Sonar replied finally, his tone dry. "I swear that guy loves wasting our time on stupid shit like this.”

   Flambae huffed in agreement.

   Oh, that was an understatement.

   The number of times Robert had gotten them stuck on useless tasks that felt like they dragged on for hours was just ridiculous.

   Flambae was already starting to feel the sense of boredom and annoyance gnawing at him, and they hadn’t even arrived at the warehouse.

   Speaking of which, they probably should start heading over to it.

   With a huff, Flambae launched himself off the ground, flames surrounding him. He waited for Sonar to follow, his arms crossed, forcing an impatient front.

   Sonar loosened his tie, undoing the buttons of his suit jacket.

   He then shifted, his body growing, fangs growing sharper and hands turning into claws. His suit disappeared to fur, and webbing formed from his wrists—stretching out to form wings.

   With a seemingly indifferent glance towards Flambae, he rose to the air, starting towards where they had been assigned.

   Of course he made the whole thing seem effortless. That guy was far too damn casual about everything.

   Flambae could feel his own blood boiling as he watched that arrogant bat rise in the air, flying towards the direction of the warehouse with ease. No hesitation. No second thought. Just a confident, smug-ass glide through the air.

   And damnit if he didn't look good doing it.

   Flambae growled quietly, shoving any further thoughts back.

   He wasn't going to admire him that much.

   Flambae followed after him, taking to the air as well.

   He glided up to Sonar with a few short bursts, until he was flying alongside him. His jaw was clenched, his face set into a hard frown.

   His entire body felt so goddamn tense, but he kept up the act of calm indifference. He kept his body relaxed as he moved to look ahead of them towards their destination instead of at Sonar.

   They both continued their way over there in silence.