Bob Reynolds is full of self-hatred. It's so obvious, anyone who looks at him for more than a second can see it; it was one of the very first things that John Walker noticed about him.
"So, I think we should fuck." He says bluntly one night while they're sitting on the couch, watching a movie that John couldn't give less of a fuck about.
Bob chokes on his swig of beer, the glass bottle still pressed to his lips even as he sputters. "I… uh… What? Don't you have a wife?"
"Oh, so what, I'm not allowed to like men too? Are you homophobic, Bobby?" and Bob is so taken aback by that question that he can't even tell John about how much he hates that nickname. "You know what? Never mind, you don't wanna get laid, that's on you, I just figured you might have a thing for getting fucked by people who hate you as much as you hate yourself."
Bob wants to be offended by that assumption, but if he's honest with himself, that has kind of been his track record. “Okay, yeah,” he says easily. “Let’s fuck.”
A pause, John's lips slide into a smirk before he takes the beer bottle out of Bob's hand and sets it back on the coffee table, before he stands up. "Get undressed, I want you naked by the time I get back here."
Bob swallows harshly and nods, not trusting himself to speak lest nothing more than a humiliating squeak comes out. He makes quick work of undressing himself, fueled by the fear of harsh words he might hear if he doesn't obey.
John smirks when he comes back down the stairs, letting his eyes drag up and down Bob's naked body, his eyes very obviously stopping when he sees the other man's hard cock. He chuckles softly when he gets even closer and sees the glistening tip. "Already wet for me, Bobby? That's what does it for you? Me bossing you around?"
Bob doesn't need to answer; they both already know. He lets John push him back until he's on the couch and then watches, lips parted as the man undresses in front of him.
"You don't deserve this, you know that, right? This is for me, not you," John says firmly, popping open the lube that he brought down and coating his first two fingers. "Say it."
"It's for you, not me," Bob repeats, quiet, though his pupils are blown and his cock twitches against his stomach.
John doesn't praise him for answering correctly. He just moves closer and pushes at Bob's hip to get him to lift them before he pushes both lubed up fingers into Bob's tight hole with no warning.
Bob's guttural groan reverberates off the walls of the tower, but it doesn't stop John from fucking his fingers in and out at a bruising pace while Bob scratches and claws at the dark leather couch, desperate for something to ground himself.
Just when Bob thinks that he's open enough, and John might replace his fingers with his cock, the man curls his digits instead, making Bob cry out at the stimulation to his prostate and the way his cock jerks, spurting thick white cum onto his own stomach, untouched.
"Fuck me, already, Bobby? How much more pathetic can you get?" He sneers, looking down at Bob with so much disappointment and disgust that it makes his stomach clench. Then, John pulls his fingers out and wraps them around his own cock. "Just because you already finished doesn't mean I am." He bites his lip, grunting as he pushes his cock into Bob's slick hole.
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Inspired by Netflix's Olympo — Roque Pérez and Sebas Sendón
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Rivals John Walker x Bob Reynolds, FWB Johnny Storm x Bob Reynolds, Unproblematic GFs Yelena Belova x Kate Bishop
Summary: In a high-performance training center where sponsorships can make or break careers, small-town rugby player Bob Reynolds shows up with nothing but one shot—to prove his raw talent is worth more than the privilege he doesn’t have.
Among teammates dripping with ambition, the pressure is thick enough to choke on—hungry stares, whispered bets, and rivalries sharp enough to draw blood.
And then there’s John Walker—golden boy, rugby legacy, and Bob’s personal nemesis. On the field, they’re fire and gasoline. Off the field, they’re worse—too close, too sharp, the kind of tension that feels like hate until it doesn’t.
Now the game isn’t about winning.
It’s about which one of them will break first.
Warnings: Homophobia, Explicit smut scenes, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Brief Violence, Mentions of blood and bruise
"If I kiss you, it’s not because I like you. It’s because you won’t shut up." The words leave John's mouth before he can stop them, and finally Bob is silent. "Thank you," John sighs, though he feels a bit disappointed that Bob actually stopped. "Now, the grownups are talking," He says, turning back to Yelena and Ava, who are both looking back at him with varying degrees of disgust and surprise.
As soon as they dive back into discussing their next plan, Bob opens his mouth, "Well, I think that maybe..."
Pushing the girls out of the way, John practically stomps over to the side of the room where Bob was standing and yanks him in by his shirt, kissing him hard, cutting off his words and half-babbling.
Bob is frozen. He doesn't kiss back or reach out to touch John, even though his brain is screaming at him, too. He can feel John's lips moving against his, but he can't do anything back, not even when John pulls away, looking even angrier than when he stalked over there.
"I said shut up," He says firmly. "No one cares what you have to say. If you can't learn that lesson, then I'll just keep going until you do."
