S(C)in City

it was weird. helpful, but weird. you often read "too much" into social interactions, your therapist told you to go home after you practically self-diagnosed yourself, and you figured out from an early age that your view on sex and relationship was... different from your peers.

not a bad different, you just didn't have very much interest in it. you were always told you hadn't found, "the one," but if you were being honest, you weren't sure what "the one" would even look like. so, when you did some online digging, you figured out it was completely normal... and that was that. or so you thought.

yeah, life got rough, but that's another story for another time— the important thing was that you wound up on the "z-team" roster alongside a bunch of pricks. from the get-go, you could tell you were eye-candy for them. every time your gaze swept across the room, you'd see at least three or four pairs of eyes on you.

invisigal would often ask you invasive questions, wherein you'd annoy her off by asking for clarification on every question. she'd always end up storming off.

sonar had tried every pickup line in the book, but you'd treat them like bad jokes, delving way too far into why they didn't make sense. exhausting. you swung between doing that and invading personal space to "unknowingly" flirt back.

flambae had trailed around you, trying to impress you with his raw strength and build, but when you'd go even more vulgar than him, he wound up nearly in flames with how frustratedly turned on he was. it was pathetic, in your eyes.

coupé and punch-up had hinted around the idea of a threesome, and yet again, you played dumb, acting like they were actually asking you for a movie night. you used that oh-so-sweet innocent tone that made the both of them uncomfortable.

and so went the same routine with the rest of them. you'd just have to sweep your hand over prism's hip and whisper some sweet words, and she was dead. you acted completely clueless and professional with blonde blazer, and she backed off. malevola was difficult, but after calling her "bro" enough times to make your own head hurt, she got the hint. shit, even the janitor and the company poster-boy and the dispatcher were sniffing around you! sometimes all at once!

the only person who didn't try anything was golem. he treated you just the same as everyone else, and that was a fresh change of pace. you found yourself hanging around him more than the rest, either sitting in comfortable silence or chatting over any topic under the sun.

after a conversation, you learned that he seemed to share the same feeling towards people as you; being little to nothing aside from friends. you guys played video games together, made playlists for one another, sent each other basically every video that popped up on your feeds— he became a great, close friend to you. and you showed it, puzzling the rest of the team.

it all bubbled up to the surface one night at the sardine. the team went out and crammed into a corner, golem sitting out front alone. if you were being honest, you kinda wanted to sit on the curb with him more than this.

as they do, the team got on the topic of sex lives. flambae described, in detail, a recent encounter with an ice-powered guy he met at a club. malevola followed up describing a girl she and sonar nabbed, reminiscing over the night. and so on and so forth, until it got to... you.

"y'know, i've heard some rumors that you're into, like, monsters," invisigal brought up, swirling her drink in her hand. "i mean, actual monsters. like, the freaky fucks from those alien movies."

sonar perked up at that. "actually?"

"makes sense. bet they're into a lot of freaky shit. the quiet ones always are," prism chimed in.

they all looked to you, and you decided... yeah, this was probably the time. you took a deep breath and set your hands on the table.

"alright, look. i know i've been giving mixed signals, and i know all of you probably want to have an orgy in the office, or something," you began. flambae barked out a laugh. "but... i guess i haven't been very truthful. i don't... i don't feel attraction. not as intensely as most of you do, at least. there's the ocassional interest, sure, but not like the average person."

brows were raising, questioning glances exchanged.

"nothing's wrong with any of you— actually, no a lot is, but still— i just don't have those urges or feelings, or... whatever you wanna call them. call me a virgin, or whatever, but that's just how i operate." you shrugged, glancing around the now very silent table.

"... ah, shit, and here i thought i actually had a chance," invisigal muttered, breaking the silence. a few heads nodded in agreement.

"i feel the same way, sometimes," coupé offered flatly, looking dead at you.

"pffsh, i don't," flambae scoffed, getting up and leaving to find someone to bother.

the group gradually fell back into normal conversation, absorbing your confession and treating it as just... fact. you're aroace? cool, anyways, next topic. the casual acceptance, no talk of "you haven't met your person," made you do a double-take. but, you eventually settled.

you got up and slipped out of the bar at one point, taking a seat next to golem on the curb. you held up a drink, watching as he slowly turned and pulled an earbud out. his mouth curved into something akin to a smile, and he took it into his large hand, offering you the earbud in return.

It’s unfair.

You already feel envy over the thick lashes framing Robert’s tired doe eyes.

Already feel the curling green vines of jealousy whenever he’s below you, said lashes fluttering and pupils blown wide as he stares up at you in a daze.

So, it’s incredibly fucking rude of him to look so pretty with dewy tears clumping his lower lashes, fattening with each half-baked blink.

His furrowed brows deepen the sweet expression on his flushed face, bite-plump lips parting around each trembling exhale that leaves him.

It’s unfair how the copper of his irises almost glitter in their wetness, especially when his eyes roll and stutter shut when your hips give another slow grind against him.

“Fffuh–ck.” Robert chokes out, fists twisting in the sheets fitfully before they release the fabric to blindly fumble for purchase on your waist, “Sl–ow down.”

The envy continues curling in on itself until it reinvents, blooms into an almost aching adoration as you watch him. The hand you have braced on his chest skims his collarbone on its trajectory to his throat.

Your fingertips make contact with the sweat on his neck before they travel up, up, up to his jaw. They form a cradle against his heated cheek, his head easily tilting back further at your gentle direction.

“Look at me, Robert,” you murmur sweetly, thumb drifting over to press on his bottom lip with light pressure, a soft low sound puffing around it, “Open your eyes.”

He sucks in a stunted breath through his teeth before they peek open, just barely able to focus on your face above him before they’re rolling again when you reward him with another grind.

The resulting wheezing groan that punches from his chest vibrates from his jawbone to your fingertips, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head presses further against the pillow it rests on.

It’s almost sinful—how the tear that falls from his lashes adds so beautifully to his thoroughly debauched demeanor, how his eyes struggling to stay open send another wave of broiling heat to your stomach.

It’s so. Fucking. Unfair.