"You aredelicious."
"...Zero—"
"You can't even take a thumb without crying, baby. And you're shaking. You're shaking. You want it anyway. My perfect boy."
He presses his thumb in.
Just past the rim. Slow, deliberately cruel. I cry out into the duvet, arching as my ass aches deep. He hums approval. Works his thumb in tiny relentless circles, hitting the still-tender places, listening to every breath he tears out of me.
"That's it, baby. That's what you came in here for."
He pulls his thumb out.
He spits.
I feel it hit me, hot and obscene, and he works the spit in with my slick, shoving his thumb back in—deeper this time, the pad against every place that is still aching and refusing to let go. I sob into the pillow. He hums.
"That's my baby."
I am dripping onto the duvet. Precome leaking out of my aching fucking cock and making a mess beneath me.
He hasn’t even put his cock in me yet, and the ache I came in here carrying is no longer one note—it’s layered now, sharpened, raw and hot and the most pleasurable thing I have ever felt, and Zero is the one who is taking it from one register into the other with the slow cruel patience of a man who has been wanting to do exactly this since the moment he first put his teeth on me.
He pulls his thumb out.
I hear him spit again—into his hand this time, I think, because I feel him slicking himself behind me. He lines up. The head of him drags along my rim, slow, deliberate, smearing the wet around.
"I'm going to fuck you, baby.Hard. Because you asked for it and because you're already raw for me and because every time I make you wince I want to do it again."
"...Zero—"
"I'm not gonna knot you. You know why? Because that would simmer your need for me and I want you fucking needy. I want you to walk around the rest of this day carrying me on top of Atlas, and when Bane comes home and smells us both on you, you’ll let him fuck you too."
"...okay—"
"Yeah?"
"...yes—"
He presses in.
The head first. Just the head, and I am open enough from his thumb and slick enough from his spit and my own biology that it sinks in past my rim with a single steady push. I cry out into the duvet. The soreness flares so hard my eyes water. He hums.
"Mm. There it is. There's that pretty wince."
He pushes deeper.
Half. Then more. Then to the hilt in one long unbroken slide that lights up every aching place I have, and I sob into the pillow and my hands fist in the duvet on either side of my head and Zero, behind me, settles his hips against the back of my thighs and stays there.
He doesn't move.
He leans down over my back. Mouth at the back of my neck. His cock buried to the hilt in a body that is shuddering on every wave of pain-and-pleasure his presence keeps generating.
"Feel me, baby?"
"...y-yes—"
"All of me. Same place he was. Same hole. Atlas warmed you up nice, didn’t he?"
