#robert cortez

Pairing: Robert/Steve Cortez

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Trans Robert, Phalloplasty, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Face-sitting, Honeymoon

Words: 3605

Summary: Robert and Steve have a lazy honeymoon

read on ao3

Excerpt:

Steve rolled around to face him, resting his wide chin on the soft fuzzy hillock below Robert's chest. Without any real focus, his hands started wandering, kneading lazily at the contours of his trunk, stroking the fine hair of his pits. Steve had a depth to him, well enough to contain striking contradictions. Always in motion, but never restless. Always confident, but never incurious. When they were together, that meant he liked to play. "Right, forgot about that." Steve brushed his thumb across a nipple. "Today, then? What do you say we rent an EX-10 Cormorant? Rated for air and sea, it can dive almost as well as those birds." He paused as if startled by a sudden thought. "How many G's can you handle?" Robert held up his hand and pointed to the new gold band on his ring finger. "It's a little late to be asking questions like that." He was what one might call a steady guy, who felt he had no great deficit of adrenaline in his life. What had drawn him to Steve in the first place was the unexplainable certainty that fast could be so slow, his ability to pluck marvels from the mundane as well as his easy command over things that would short-circuit most people. A steep dive in a rented aircraft would be about as placid sunning themselves on the balcony. Steve's preoccupation with what he could get his hands on had gradually shifted the centre of his weight and though he seemed to move without any particular motive, Robert could feel their bodies responding to each other. "Do you think about me when you're flying?" he asked, lifting his hip against Steve's nascent erection. "No. I don't think about anything when I'm flying." He kissed Robert's stomach, pressing his face deep into the soft flesh. He was lower than he'd been a moment before, through no particular effort that either of them had noticed, and he followed it further, tracing his tongue along a darkened line that sloped down Rob's belly. "It's all about feeling," he said, muffled now in the dark bush between his legs.

YAAY

nice two years idiot is my fill in the blank fic for Joker between that opening cutscene and then the Rest of me2 .. just my space to play with the ideas I have for Joker + his friendships with James and the Cortez’ + allowing me to write Steve/Robert and have it be In the main body of the story .. + just how he got pulled into Cerberus

Excerpt :

“Jeff?”

He jumped in his own skin, eyes peeling open and arms trying to push himself up into a more respectable pose, trying to steer clear of setting an alarm off or irritating one of many healing wounds.

He knew that voice. Knew it well. Even when the light of the hall blurred the edges of the figure in his doorway. Joker has had things slip from memory over the years- sands of time, clock marches onward, whatever- but some you can just never forget.

It was a struggle- a small one, to be fair. But a struggle all the same. The owner of the voice stepped quick to his bedside. Boots squeaked on polished floor, jacket undone and the smell of shuttle oil embedded in the fibres. A hand found home, resting on the junction of his shoulder, doing little to slow Joker’s attempt at freeing his legs from a thin, scratchy cocoon.

“Easy, man.” The voice called again, Joker pausing from the nightmare that was blanket tired around his ankles syndrome, and finally looked the visitor in the eyes. His mouth was still dry, and the attempt at a hello, or a good to see you or thanks for the visit died, blending into a rough rasp that sat in his throat. “No need to try to act tough, let me adjust your bed. Hey- Jeff. I don’t want you to do anything, yeah?”

Half frozen, body still trying to force itself to dangle its legs off the side of the bed and brain almost willing to slip back under the covers and rest. When he did try to go back to fighting with the devil called blanket, and felt the hand find its way back against his shoulder again, he had to concede.

Joker was stubborn, this was a fact of being, but he was lazy too. Two opposing forces, at a constant war. And as he shifted to lay back, hearing the whirl of moving parts and feeling his world shift bit by bit, Joker was willing to bow his head to laziness. Hands holded neat on his lap, might as well echoing in his head.