Mars

    “Look at that! That’s my partner!” Fuse’s hand squeezed your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. “Oi Houndy! Are you seeing this?”

    “Yes, Walter. You have replayed the clip eight times.” Bloodhound was sitting in a booth a few feet behind you. They sipped at a glass of water occasionally, not keeping their mask off for too long. They didn’t usually come to after-game parties, but the promise of a calmer atmosphere tempted them. 

    “Elliot!” Fuse called to Mirage as he came back to the bar from passing out more drinks. He looked truly in his element, flipping a whiskey bottle in the air before pouring into a shaker. “Can we replay that last part again?” 

    Mirage laughed, rewinding the tape once again to the point where the final ring just started closing. You couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed at Fuse's enthusiasm, face flushing lightly. You swirled your now empty drink to distract yourself, listening to the light clinking of ice against glass. Fuse noticed the sound and watched your movements for a bit. He knew you too well.

    “What’s wrong, love?” His smile had dropped a bit and his attention no longer bounced around, entirely focused on you. You hadn’t even noticed Mirage had set a new, full glass in front of you until Fuse pushed it closer, gently taking the empty one out of your hand and setting it down. 

    “It’s just a bit embarrassing,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. Fuse didn’t seem deterred by your shame. He knew you would actually be pissed if he was making you feel uncomfortable. A smirk grew on his face, and for a second you felt your stomach drop. That stupid smirk. It meant trouble.

    “What?” His voice was teasing. “You’re telling me it embarrasses ya to be told you're doing such a good job for me?” Fuse put emphasis on the last six words, and it almost sounded mocking. You swear all the blood in your body was pooling in your cheeks. It felt like you had a fever with how warm and sweaty you were. All you could do was turn yourself away from the man unknowingly torturing you and take nervous mouthfuls of your drink. Fuse was laughing, that belly laugh that always made you feel safe. 

    “Truly though, darlin’, I'm so proud of you.” The laugh disappeared from Fuse's voice. He leaned over, making you feel more secluded from the rest of the bar with his arm pulling you in. “You've been doing so good lately.” His tone has changed, getting deeper and more suggestive.

    Your eyes widened at the change, head spinning to look at the man beside you, but he had quickly engaged in a conversation with a very drunk Valkyrie. Fuse’s arm had left your shoulder, leaving you stunned and missing the warmth. Thoughts circled your head as you were left to your own devices. Mutterings of “so good” and “so proud of you” in that low drawl making the heat from your cheeks drop lower. 

    Shaky hands lifted your glass to your lips and you sipped, urging your brain to blank. Unfortunately, you didn't have much control over your thoughts. The thoughts of his voice turned to images of him above you. Chest sweaty, hair a mess, breathes coming in short huffs. You’re so perfect for me, he’d say. Look at ya’, so eager to take it like a good pup. The images turned to feelings. A deep need set low in your stomach. A throbbing that wanted so badly to be satiated. You shifted in your seat, thighs rubbing against each other in a subconscious attempt to gain friction. Noticing your body betraying you, you turned sharply, hopping off the bar stool. The sound alerted the man you totally weren’t just having a sex daydream about and he looked at you with confusion.

    “Where ya goin’, darlin’?” he asked, readying himself to get up too.

    “Just need some air. Don’t worry about me.” You brushed him off, practically speedwalking your way to a side door that led to the alley where everyone went to smoke. 

    As soon as the door swang shut behind you your body melted against the brick wall. Legs too shaky to support your weight, you slid down the wall until you were crouched. A hand instinctively fell between your legs to apply pressure. A pathetic whine came from your throat. You thought of how desperate you had to be to touch yourself in a dirty fucking alley, the smell of acrid cigarette smoke lingering in the air, but you couldn't help yourself. 

    Just as you thought “fuck it” and started unzipping your pants, the door opened and you jerked your hands away. Looking up, Fuse stood over you with a smug look on his face. For a few moments neither of you spoke, staring at each other. You looked at him with fear. He looked at you with amusement.

    “You're really into that stuff?” He chuckled, breaking the silence. You swear your face couldn't get any redder. You could tell he didn't mean it in a mean way, but you were still so ashamed.

    “No, no, no!” you lied. Your hands flew up and you tried your best to stand, stumbling over yourself. “I just needed a break!”

    “With your pants unzipped?” Fuse said pointedly, smirk growing ever wider. You were caught. As you zipped up your pants, tears started forming in your eyes from the shame. There was no denying it anymore.

    “It's embarrassing,” You muttered, looking downwards. Staring at his shoes, you could feel his eyes still watching you. The thought of staying here felt like death, and you could never go back inside knowing that Fuse had just caught you with your pants unzipped in a filthy alley. “I'll just go home. You guys can still enjoy the party.” 

    You were about to step away from the wall and walk home, but Fuse grabbed your wrists and put them above your head, pinning you to the wall. You looked at him in surprise, the first time you'd fully made eye contact since he came out here.

    “I think it's bloody hot,” Fuse muttered, leaning in really close to your ear. You swear your brain short-circuited, and all you could think of was his breath on your neck and the way his hands easily wrapped all the way around your wrists. God his hands were big.

    “What?” You said dumbly. Fuse chuckled, amused at your inability to form thoughts. He moved your wrists over to hold them with one hand and trailed the other down your side. Your skin tangled under your clothes everywhere he touched.

    “I love how weak I can make ya just with a simple compliment.” Fuse's hand ghosted over your crotch, making you gasp and then look over to the street. It was late in the night. No one was in the street. Fuse could fuck your brains out right now in this alley and no one would know.

    “Walter.” Your voice was strained. Fuse stopped his hand movements, but you could see his eyes darting from yours down to your lips every few seconds. He was trying so hard to hold back, to give you room to say no. It takes everything in you to not just submit right here, to not drop down to your knees and let him use you right here. Instead, you said, “What if one of the legends comes out here?” 

    “You’re right, love. Wouldn’t want any of them to see how desperate you are for me. That’s all mine.” Fuse sounded utterly depraved. His words made you shiver, and you swear you could feel the wetness spreading to your thighs. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. His tongue bullied its way past your lips and teeth. You were pressed against the wall to the point where you couldn’t move, and you felt what was definitely his bulge pressed against your hip. 

    A soft moan escaped from your mouth as your lips parted. Fuse backed up a couple steps, letting go of your wrists. You shivered against the wall, not trusting your knees to hold you up. He grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together, and led you away from the wall. You’re glad your legs decided not to give out this time. The embarrassment would kill you. 

    Before your brain could process, Fuse had brought you to his car. Opening the passenger door, he gestured for you to get in before closing the door behind you. As soon as he sat down in the driver’s seat, your seat warmer was turned on and he put some cheesy love song on. You couldn’t believe he could just go back to the loving, corny boyfriend after almost shoving his hand in your pants behind Mirage’s bar. 

Fuse’s hand stayed squeezing your upper thigh the whole way home. And you bet he’s making you cum at least three times that night.