Fic - "Might As Well Face It (You're Addicted to Love)"
Title: Might As Well Face It (You're Addicted to Love)
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Megamind, Metro Man, cameo from Roxanne. Megamind [dur].
Word Count: 3,554
Rating: R
Summary: Metro Man's first attempt to make the game more interesting gets a little out of hand.
Warnings: Slash, dubcon, breathplay, frot. A spicy combination!
Notes: More Megamind smut. Set pre-movie, so really, no spoilers! Just some good old-fashioned Foe Yay. Though their time together onscreen is brief, I loved the chemistry between Megamind and Metro Man. They're so comfortable with each other! I wouldn't be surprised if there was a little bit of fooling around in their long and complicated history. Title is taken from the thoroughly appropriate song Addicted to Love, and it was really hard for me to pick just one line, haha! Have fun.
NOW WITH DELICIOUS ILLUSTRATIONS by tripperfunster!! One for the actual fic is HERE!! One inspired by a moment in the fic is HERE!!
AND ANOTHER DELICIOUS ILLUSTRATION by seiaa!! See it right HERE!! (f-locked to megamind_movie)
Megamind could almost be described as graceful. He’s capable of leaping and twisting and dodging around the maze of support pillars and piles of debris that litter the abandoned warehouse, while Metro Man is forced to plow through them. He may possess the powers of flight, strength, and invulnerability, but sometimes he thinks he might trade it all away for a chance to be as quick and nimble as his nemesis. Megamind plants his hands on the rounded back of a fallen pillar and throws his legs up in a fearless pendulum motion that swings his body over the obstruction. He lands on his feet, catlike and sure, never breaking stride as he flees before the hero of Metro City, who lazily uses his laser vision to reduce the pillar to dust.
Somewhere far behind and slightly above them, Roxanne Ritchi waits in the former foreman’s office, empty now save for the shells of file cabinets, a dust-coated desk, and a chair for her to be conveniently tied to. Metro Man forgets what the plot even was this time--- something about carbonating the city’s water supply, which doesn’t seem evil so much as merely obnoxious--- but Roxanne was customarily taken hostage and Metro Man customarily arrived to rescue her. Megamind gave a shrill cackle as he dove through a trapdoor, a cackle that turned into a shriek as Metro Man plunged through the floor after him. Now they race through the ruins, the villain no doubt heading for whatever escape vehicle Minion is customarily piloting this time.
This is not the first time that Metro Man has felt vaguely bored with the chase, and it certainly won’t be the last.
Although he would usually just grab Megamind by the cape and drag him straight to prison, he wants to try something different, something to shake up the routine just a little bit. Lifting from the ground, he puts on a burst of speed, shooting past his enemy in a white blur, reappearing directly in his path, hands on hips, face split in a cocky smirk. Megamind gives a yowl of dismay when he spots him, his arms windmilling frantically as he attempts to reverse himself and prevent a collision. He overbalances, his boots scraping on the gravel underfoot, and he lands hard on his ass, catching the rest of his weight on his hands so that he doesn’t end up on his back.
“Nice try, Megamind,” says the hero, looming over him. “But Evil can’t outrun Justice.”
The villain sneers, “Ah, but what if Evil has been going to the gym while Justice sits idly on the sofa watching reruns of Judge Judy? Justice becomes fat and sluggish while Evil remains svelte and swift!”
“First of all, Justice prefers to watch Night Court,” Metro Man wags a corrective finger. “And secondly, Justice maintains a healthy weight with sensible portions and a diet high in vegetables and lean proteins!”
“Even Justice can be tempted by the lure of sweet things,” Megamind insists, now crab-walking backwards. “It’s a slow descent, starting with a few cookies and ending in an ice cream binge that leaves Justice bloated and depressed for days!”
As Metro Man closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, Megamind tries to bolt and loses his balance for the second time, his hands and feet skittering out all at once as he wipes out on the concrete. Supine and shocked, he can only cringe as Metro Man steps over his legs and stands straddling him, one booted foot planted on either side of the villain’s slender hips. The predator studies his prey: the pupils reduced to pinpoints of black in a sea of emerald green; the mouth curled in a strange combination of fear and anger; and finally, the thin chest rising and falling rapidly, shallowly. With his enhanced vision, Metro Man can actually see the air shooting out of his enemy’s lungs in jets of steam.
“You’re out of breath,” he observes stupidly.
“Of course I’m out of breath, you cape-clad gorilla,” Megamind pants. “I just ran an obstacle course with my life and liberty at stake. I can feel my pulse in my eyeballs.”
Reaching down and grabbing a fistful of black leather at the center of Megamind’s chest, Metro Man hauls him to his feet and pins him roughly against the nearest pillar. He can feel that pulse, rabbit-quick and thundering just under his knuckles. Megamind instinctively latches onto the hero’s forearm, twisting violently in a gesture that would give anyone else a terrible burn, but in this case only succeeds in tangling his fingers in the fringe on his gloves.
There’s a weird pause, like each one is waiting for the other to instigate the witty banter. Megamind squirms uncomfortably under Metro Man’s inquisitive stare.
“What?” he hisses defensively.
Then Metro Man says, “What does it feel like?”
“What does what feel like.”
“Being out of breath.”
“It sucks!” Megamind spits furiously.
Curious, just to see what will happen, Metro Man slides his hand upwards, from chest to collarbone, until his fingers close around Megamind’s elegant throat and start to squeeze. Supporting his weight by still holding onto that forearm, Megamind lifts himself up and drives a double-kick against Metro Man’s stomach. It has no effect. His eyes get impossibly wider and he bares his gritted teeth. After that first coordinated effort, his actions quickly dissolve into frenzy, feet flailing repeatedly against the hero’s belly and chest, fingers wringing desperately at the restraining hand.
Just as his eyes start to roll over white, Metro Man relaxes his grip.
He keeps his fingers coiled loosely around the thin neck, a collar to discourage any attempt at escape. Megamind gasps and wheezes, his expression warped in a sneer of indignation.
“Are you crazy?” he shrieks when he has enough breath. “What on earth do you think you’re---”
The words end in a strangled squawk as Metro Man’s hand closes again. He can’t resist. He’s never seen anything like this--- well, not up close, anyway, and certainly not by his own powerful hand. Megamind’s body twists like the lightning he wears, rolling and writhing, rising up from the pillar and slamming back against it as he struggles to free himself. That’s the interesting part. The weaker he gets--- the staler the trapped air in his lungs becomes--- the fiercer he fights. His eyes blaze with genuine, naked fury. It’s so---
---different.
Metro Man leans closer. He’s hyper-sensitive without even trying, and he feels the heat pouring off the skinny body in waves, crashing against him, invading his eyes and nose and mouth. Something razor-sharp and painful draws into tighter and tighter knots inside him. The sensation is so intense that he almost closes his fist entirely, but something catches his eye and his hand drops back to Megamind’s chest, clenching in the center of his blue insignia.
“Are you---” he splutters, staring between his enemy’s legs. “Are you getting a hard-on?”
Bright green eyes dart down and back again, scrunching up in panic. “No!”
“You are!” Metro Man persists, gawking. “You’re getting hard!”
Another anxious downcast glance, one that widens into a stare of incredible surprise as he looks up and yelps, “So are you!”
Awkward silence. Then, Metro Man slowly lowers his gaze, notices for the first time that his tights are straining outwards in a very suspicious fashion. He looks back at Megamind’s pants, the black leather straining in a very suspiciously similar fashion.
“So are you,” he echoes helplessly.
Now Megamind is starting to smile, more out of old habit than anything else, as he certainly realizes that he’s gaining the upper hand.
“I’m being asphyxiated in a vaguely air-oh-teek fashion,” he purrs. “What’s your excuse?”
There is no excuse. There’s only Megamind, his heartbeat throbbing into Metro Man’s palm. There’s only black-gloved hands sliding over white-gloved ones, long fingers winding around his forearm and stroking, teasing, mocking. Without the routine, Metro Man is helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What should he do? Should he throw his enemy to the ground? Fly him to prison as fast as he can? Run away from him and pretend this never happened?
In the end, he follows his first and strongest impulse, and kisses him.
Megamind emits a fantastic “mmf!” of shock, his hands clapping onto Metro Man’s ears and yanking backwards, trying to pull him off--- but the superhero is capable of resisting the pull of a speeding locomotive. He barely even notices Megamind’s attempts to dislodge him. He’s too busy noticing Megamind’s lips, tight and pursed under his own, and the breath from his nostrils blasting directly against his skin. It’s so hot, like the villain has a furnace inside of him--- or maybe it just feels that way because Metro Man is on the verge of completely freaking out.
He breaks the kiss long enough for Megamind to babble, “No, no, don’t do that, don’t---” before he silences him with another. He realizes that his mouth is sealing the other’s entirely, and with one hand still clutching the front of the villain’s costume, he uses his free fingers to clamp down over Megamind’s nose, cutting off his air supply for the third time. The reaction is immense. The hands yanking on his ears go immediately for his face, clawing at his eyes, thumbs trying to jab into sockets that are impervious to bullets. When that doesn’t work, Megamind grabs hold of his hair and pulls so hard that Metro Man can feel the muscles in his chest straining with the effort. It’s hopeless, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Metro Man doesn’t let go.
Oh, God--- under his mouth, he can feel Megamind’s lips curling back in a snarl of frustration and anger. He flicks his tongue against the exposed teeth, and although he should have seen it coming, he’s still surprised when Megamind bites him. In fact, it’s more from surprise than anything resembling pain that he jerks his head back and allows the villain to draw in a huge, shaky gulp of air.
They regard each other in a silence punctuated only by Megamind’s fevered breathing. He’s got one hand clenched on Metro Man’s neck, still trying uselessly to strangle him. His other hand is between his legs, the heel of it rubbing against his erection. His pupils have dilated dramatically, blown so wide that they’re framed by only a thin ring of emerald, and he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as if to stop himself from speaking. Metro Man wonders if he has the same stunned expression.
Almost unconsciously, he reaches down and cups the palm of his hand over his own cock.
At the sudden bolt of sensation, his body jumps of its own accord, not backwards as reason would dictate, but forwards, until his forehead collides with his enemy’s and they’re sharing the same breath. Megamind is leaning away from him, flat against the pillar at his back, his shoulders drawn up and quivering. Then, still biting his lip against any words, he lets his actions do the talking, reaching gingerly across the space between them to slip his hand between Metro Man’s legs--- and squeeze.
Then--- collision. Mouth against mouth, hands fumbling wildly at faces, kissing like their lives depend on it. This time Megamind opens up for him, draws his tongue in, meets it with his own. This time Megamind’s hands in his hair are pulling him closer, too close, until their teeth scrape together and they threaten to devour each other. Metro Man presses into him, not just with his mouth but with his body, every contact point crushed against him until he can practically hear Megamind’s bones groaning in protest. It only encourages him to push harder.
Somehow he has the presence of mind to scoop one hand under Megamind’s ass, hoist him up so that his legs spread and he can force himself between them, their erections finally pressing against each other. He’s aware of Megamind wrapping skinny legs around his waist, crossing his ankles to lock himself in place as he flexes, the movement originating in his hips and grinding their hard-ons together with such force that they both gasp in pleasure.
“Do that again,” Metro Man begs, and for once, Megamind does as he’s told.
There’s no grace in the act, no finesse or skill. They kiss clumsily, all teeth and tongues, wet and sloppy and desperate. They’re like a couple of teenagers, discovering for the first time what their bodies are capable of, eager to see how far they can go. Megamind rocks his weight again and again. Metro Man thrusts to meet him, their hips jerking towards each other roughly. The villain’s hands are still twined in his enemy’s hair, yanking and tearing convulsively, digging for his scalp through the thin black leather of his gloves. Metro Man keeps one hand supporting his nemesis, the broad palm cupped under his thigh, the fingers curling towards his groin. His other hand is wrapped around the nape of Megamind’s neck, dragging him in for kiss after kiss, even though the villain keeps throwing his head back and making noises that Metro Man never thought him capable of.
“Ah,” hisses Megamind, eyes screwed shut tight. “Ohhhh... hnh... uhhh...”
Primal sounds, from the back of his throat and the basest part of his nature. They’re not words. They’re not even meant to be heard, they’re meant to be felt--- and Metro Man finally just presses his lips against the delicious swelling at the center of Megamind’s throat, so that every vibration shivers directly into his mouth, thick and sweet as honey.
The heat is building. Metro Man can feel it, threading out through his muscles, coiling them tighter. He drops both hands to his enemy’s hips and guides him so that they move together, the friction maximized, the sensation now becoming almost unbearable. Megamind’s voice climbs to a shrill whine, his teeth bared and beautiful, and his whole body tightens right before he comes--- then orgasm is shaking him senseless, twisting his mouth wide open, drawing out of his aching lungs a deep, protracted moan.
That’s enough.
Enough to send Metro Man over the edge, to trigger in him a climax that rocks him to the core, splinters through his system with such power that he shoves blindly forward and surrenders to the tidal wave that pulls everything in him to the same central point. It’s a lucky thing that Megamind is built so sturdily--- a human partner would have been crushed by the force of the superhero’s spasmodic embrace.
The orgasm leaves him suddenly weak and uncoordinated. He sinks to his knees, Megamind sliding down along the pillar with him until he ends up in Metro Man’s lap, the two of them waiting for the fog to clear and their senses to return. Metro Man’s hands are still resting on Megamind’s hips, and the villain has one hand pressed against the superhero’s chest. The warehouse seems suddenly, outrageously, silent and still.
“So,” Megamind says at last, his eyes averted. “What does it feel like?”
“What does what feel like?” Metro Man mumbles.
“Being out of breath.”
Metro Man realizes that he’s panting. It turns into awkward laughter, laughter that blooms a little louder when Megamind starts giggling along with him. Like school kids breaking curfew, they clap hands over mouths that are upturned towards gleaming eyes, palms catching the worst of their nervous chittering. Megamind leans back against the pillar, but the bulk of him is still sitting comfortably on Metro Man’s thighs, legs draped lazily around his waist like they were meant to fit there. As their laughter fades into another bout of silence, Metro Man clears his throat.
“Hey, little buddy,” he starts to say.
But he suddenly twists his head, eyes widening, gazing into the middle distance. Megamind says meekly, “What?” only to be shushed by a curt gesture from the other. There it is again, jangling at the edge of his super-hearing--- the faint sound of a woman calling his name. At first, he doesn’t understand, doesn’t even remember how he got here. But the voice is too familiar and the truth can’t be ignored: it’s Roxanne. Still tied up in the office, still waiting for her hero to come and save her.
Metro Man turns back to Megamind, sprawled in his lap, now looking very nervous and self-conscious. He withdraws his hand from Metro Man’s chest, settles it protectively over his own, fingers laced through the silver spikes of his collar. He’s trembling.
“What’s wrong?”
And Metro Man mutters, “This is.”
With a burst of flight, he bolts up and away, flipping Megamind out of his lap and onto the floor. The villain scrambles to his feet while the hero allows his own to drift back to the ground a safe distance away. They shuffle uneasily, and Metro Man has no idea what to do or say. He wants to... apologize? He wants to turn back time and undo the last ten minutes. He doesn’t know now why he ever broke the rules in the first place, and he wonders if the game will ever be the same again.
Megamind suddenly springs into a triumphant pose, one index finger jabbed at his nemesis.
“Ha ha!” he crows. “You just proved me right! Justice can be corrupted!”
In the weird and wonderful pause that follows this exclamation, Metro Man can feel the stupidest smile forming on his face. Megamind nods his head almost imperceptibly.
“No,” Metro Man answers faintly. “I think you just proved me right...?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Megamind cups a hand behind the pale blue shell of his ear. “I can’t hear you, Justice, you’ll have to speak up!”
“I said,” the superhero calls, louder. “That you just proved me right!”
“What on earth could you possibly mean?”
“You just proved that Justice can never be tarnished,” he smirks. “While Evil will always be left with a stain.”
At Megamind’s clueless look, Metro Man whistles and points downwards. The crotch of the villain’s expensive leather pants is beginning to soak through with a dark wet patch. The superhero then points at his own groin--- his impervious costume is designed to resist damage from without, but it also works from within, and any incriminating stains are contained by the unique material.
“Ohhh, dear,” Megamind winces at himself. “Minion will not be pleased.” Looking back at Metro Man, he shakes his fist threateningly and calls, “You may have won this time, but next time you won’t be so lucky!”
“Justice will always triumph,” Metro Man asserts. “And Evil will always have to pay for dry-cleaning.”
“Until we meet again!” Megamind bawls dramatically.
He throws down a smoke bomb, vanishing in a cloud of cerulean vapor. Then the mist quickly dissipates, revealing him still standing there, slouched to one side, hand on jutted hip, goofy smile on his face.
“Uh,” he mumbles shyly. “Bye.”
With an awkward wave, he turns and trots away at a leisurely pace, knowing that he won’t be chased this time. Metro Man hovers away in the opposite direction, pausing for one moment to look back at Megamind just in time to see Megamind looking back at him. They giggle, wave again, and go their separate ways.
- - -
Always resourceful, Roxanne has managed to work one hand free of her restraints by the time the superhero arrives to finish the job. A quick blast of laser vision sends the ropes tumbling to the floor like a heap of lifeless toy snakes. He’s just about to sweep her up into his arms when he realizes that she’s staring at him like he’s grown horns.
“Roxanne,” he says gallantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Metro Man,” she answers slowly. “What happened to your hair?”
Catching his reflection in the nearest window, he realizes that his perfectly-coifed hair has been reduced to a tangled mess, thoroughly tousled by a certain pair of black-gloved hands.
“Well,” Metro Man explains. “The villain put up quite a fight.”
Which, really, is the truth.
_________end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Megamind, Metro Man, cameo from Roxanne. Megamind [dur].
Word Count: 3,554
Rating: R
Summary: Metro Man's first attempt to make the game more interesting gets a little out of hand.
Warnings: Slash, dubcon, breathplay, frot. A spicy combination!
Notes: More Megamind smut. Set pre-movie, so really, no spoilers! Just some good old-fashioned Foe Yay. Though their time together onscreen is brief, I loved the chemistry between Megamind and Metro Man. They're so comfortable with each other! I wouldn't be surprised if there was a little bit of fooling around in their long and complicated history. Title is taken from the thoroughly appropriate song Addicted to Love, and it was really hard for me to pick just one line, haha! Have fun.
NOW WITH DELICIOUS ILLUSTRATIONS by tripperfunster!! One for the actual fic is HERE!! One inspired by a moment in the fic is HERE!!
AND ANOTHER DELICIOUS ILLUSTRATION by seiaa!! See it right HERE!! (f-locked to megamind_movie)
Megamind could almost be described as graceful. He’s capable of leaping and twisting and dodging around the maze of support pillars and piles of debris that litter the abandoned warehouse, while Metro Man is forced to plow through them. He may possess the powers of flight, strength, and invulnerability, but sometimes he thinks he might trade it all away for a chance to be as quick and nimble as his nemesis. Megamind plants his hands on the rounded back of a fallen pillar and throws his legs up in a fearless pendulum motion that swings his body over the obstruction. He lands on his feet, catlike and sure, never breaking stride as he flees before the hero of Metro City, who lazily uses his laser vision to reduce the pillar to dust.
Somewhere far behind and slightly above them, Roxanne Ritchi waits in the former foreman’s office, empty now save for the shells of file cabinets, a dust-coated desk, and a chair for her to be conveniently tied to. Metro Man forgets what the plot even was this time--- something about carbonating the city’s water supply, which doesn’t seem evil so much as merely obnoxious--- but Roxanne was customarily taken hostage and Metro Man customarily arrived to rescue her. Megamind gave a shrill cackle as he dove through a trapdoor, a cackle that turned into a shriek as Metro Man plunged through the floor after him. Now they race through the ruins, the villain no doubt heading for whatever escape vehicle Minion is customarily piloting this time.
This is not the first time that Metro Man has felt vaguely bored with the chase, and it certainly won’t be the last.
Although he would usually just grab Megamind by the cape and drag him straight to prison, he wants to try something different, something to shake up the routine just a little bit. Lifting from the ground, he puts on a burst of speed, shooting past his enemy in a white blur, reappearing directly in his path, hands on hips, face split in a cocky smirk. Megamind gives a yowl of dismay when he spots him, his arms windmilling frantically as he attempts to reverse himself and prevent a collision. He overbalances, his boots scraping on the gravel underfoot, and he lands hard on his ass, catching the rest of his weight on his hands so that he doesn’t end up on his back.
“Nice try, Megamind,” says the hero, looming over him. “But Evil can’t outrun Justice.”
The villain sneers, “Ah, but what if Evil has been going to the gym while Justice sits idly on the sofa watching reruns of Judge Judy? Justice becomes fat and sluggish while Evil remains svelte and swift!”
“First of all, Justice prefers to watch Night Court,” Metro Man wags a corrective finger. “And secondly, Justice maintains a healthy weight with sensible portions and a diet high in vegetables and lean proteins!”
“Even Justice can be tempted by the lure of sweet things,” Megamind insists, now crab-walking backwards. “It’s a slow descent, starting with a few cookies and ending in an ice cream binge that leaves Justice bloated and depressed for days!”
As Metro Man closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, Megamind tries to bolt and loses his balance for the second time, his hands and feet skittering out all at once as he wipes out on the concrete. Supine and shocked, he can only cringe as Metro Man steps over his legs and stands straddling him, one booted foot planted on either side of the villain’s slender hips. The predator studies his prey: the pupils reduced to pinpoints of black in a sea of emerald green; the mouth curled in a strange combination of fear and anger; and finally, the thin chest rising and falling rapidly, shallowly. With his enhanced vision, Metro Man can actually see the air shooting out of his enemy’s lungs in jets of steam.
“You’re out of breath,” he observes stupidly.
“Of course I’m out of breath, you cape-clad gorilla,” Megamind pants. “I just ran an obstacle course with my life and liberty at stake. I can feel my pulse in my eyeballs.”
Reaching down and grabbing a fistful of black leather at the center of Megamind’s chest, Metro Man hauls him to his feet and pins him roughly against the nearest pillar. He can feel that pulse, rabbit-quick and thundering just under his knuckles. Megamind instinctively latches onto the hero’s forearm, twisting violently in a gesture that would give anyone else a terrible burn, but in this case only succeeds in tangling his fingers in the fringe on his gloves.
There’s a weird pause, like each one is waiting for the other to instigate the witty banter. Megamind squirms uncomfortably under Metro Man’s inquisitive stare.
“What?” he hisses defensively.
Then Metro Man says, “What does it feel like?”
“What does what feel like.”
“Being out of breath.”
“It sucks!” Megamind spits furiously.
Curious, just to see what will happen, Metro Man slides his hand upwards, from chest to collarbone, until his fingers close around Megamind’s elegant throat and start to squeeze. Supporting his weight by still holding onto that forearm, Megamind lifts himself up and drives a double-kick against Metro Man’s stomach. It has no effect. His eyes get impossibly wider and he bares his gritted teeth. After that first coordinated effort, his actions quickly dissolve into frenzy, feet flailing repeatedly against the hero’s belly and chest, fingers wringing desperately at the restraining hand.
Just as his eyes start to roll over white, Metro Man relaxes his grip.
He keeps his fingers coiled loosely around the thin neck, a collar to discourage any attempt at escape. Megamind gasps and wheezes, his expression warped in a sneer of indignation.
“Are you crazy?” he shrieks when he has enough breath. “What on earth do you think you’re---”
The words end in a strangled squawk as Metro Man’s hand closes again. He can’t resist. He’s never seen anything like this--- well, not up close, anyway, and certainly not by his own powerful hand. Megamind’s body twists like the lightning he wears, rolling and writhing, rising up from the pillar and slamming back against it as he struggles to free himself. That’s the interesting part. The weaker he gets--- the staler the trapped air in his lungs becomes--- the fiercer he fights. His eyes blaze with genuine, naked fury. It’s so---
---different.
Metro Man leans closer. He’s hyper-sensitive without even trying, and he feels the heat pouring off the skinny body in waves, crashing against him, invading his eyes and nose and mouth. Something razor-sharp and painful draws into tighter and tighter knots inside him. The sensation is so intense that he almost closes his fist entirely, but something catches his eye and his hand drops back to Megamind’s chest, clenching in the center of his blue insignia.
“Are you---” he splutters, staring between his enemy’s legs. “Are you getting a hard-on?”
Bright green eyes dart down and back again, scrunching up in panic. “No!”
“You are!” Metro Man persists, gawking. “You’re getting hard!”
Another anxious downcast glance, one that widens into a stare of incredible surprise as he looks up and yelps, “So are you!”
Awkward silence. Then, Metro Man slowly lowers his gaze, notices for the first time that his tights are straining outwards in a very suspicious fashion. He looks back at Megamind’s pants, the black leather straining in a very suspiciously similar fashion.
“So are you,” he echoes helplessly.
Now Megamind is starting to smile, more out of old habit than anything else, as he certainly realizes that he’s gaining the upper hand.
“I’m being asphyxiated in a vaguely air-oh-teek fashion,” he purrs. “What’s your excuse?”
There is no excuse. There’s only Megamind, his heartbeat throbbing into Metro Man’s palm. There’s only black-gloved hands sliding over white-gloved ones, long fingers winding around his forearm and stroking, teasing, mocking. Without the routine, Metro Man is helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What should he do? Should he throw his enemy to the ground? Fly him to prison as fast as he can? Run away from him and pretend this never happened?
In the end, he follows his first and strongest impulse, and kisses him.
Megamind emits a fantastic “mmf!” of shock, his hands clapping onto Metro Man’s ears and yanking backwards, trying to pull him off--- but the superhero is capable of resisting the pull of a speeding locomotive. He barely even notices Megamind’s attempts to dislodge him. He’s too busy noticing Megamind’s lips, tight and pursed under his own, and the breath from his nostrils blasting directly against his skin. It’s so hot, like the villain has a furnace inside of him--- or maybe it just feels that way because Metro Man is on the verge of completely freaking out.
He breaks the kiss long enough for Megamind to babble, “No, no, don’t do that, don’t---” before he silences him with another. He realizes that his mouth is sealing the other’s entirely, and with one hand still clutching the front of the villain’s costume, he uses his free fingers to clamp down over Megamind’s nose, cutting off his air supply for the third time. The reaction is immense. The hands yanking on his ears go immediately for his face, clawing at his eyes, thumbs trying to jab into sockets that are impervious to bullets. When that doesn’t work, Megamind grabs hold of his hair and pulls so hard that Metro Man can feel the muscles in his chest straining with the effort. It’s hopeless, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Metro Man doesn’t let go.
Oh, God--- under his mouth, he can feel Megamind’s lips curling back in a snarl of frustration and anger. He flicks his tongue against the exposed teeth, and although he should have seen it coming, he’s still surprised when Megamind bites him. In fact, it’s more from surprise than anything resembling pain that he jerks his head back and allows the villain to draw in a huge, shaky gulp of air.
They regard each other in a silence punctuated only by Megamind’s fevered breathing. He’s got one hand clenched on Metro Man’s neck, still trying uselessly to strangle him. His other hand is between his legs, the heel of it rubbing against his erection. His pupils have dilated dramatically, blown so wide that they’re framed by only a thin ring of emerald, and he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as if to stop himself from speaking. Metro Man wonders if he has the same stunned expression.
Almost unconsciously, he reaches down and cups the palm of his hand over his own cock.
At the sudden bolt of sensation, his body jumps of its own accord, not backwards as reason would dictate, but forwards, until his forehead collides with his enemy’s and they’re sharing the same breath. Megamind is leaning away from him, flat against the pillar at his back, his shoulders drawn up and quivering. Then, still biting his lip against any words, he lets his actions do the talking, reaching gingerly across the space between them to slip his hand between Metro Man’s legs--- and squeeze.
Then--- collision. Mouth against mouth, hands fumbling wildly at faces, kissing like their lives depend on it. This time Megamind opens up for him, draws his tongue in, meets it with his own. This time Megamind’s hands in his hair are pulling him closer, too close, until their teeth scrape together and they threaten to devour each other. Metro Man presses into him, not just with his mouth but with his body, every contact point crushed against him until he can practically hear Megamind’s bones groaning in protest. It only encourages him to push harder.
Somehow he has the presence of mind to scoop one hand under Megamind’s ass, hoist him up so that his legs spread and he can force himself between them, their erections finally pressing against each other. He’s aware of Megamind wrapping skinny legs around his waist, crossing his ankles to lock himself in place as he flexes, the movement originating in his hips and grinding their hard-ons together with such force that they both gasp in pleasure.
“Do that again,” Metro Man begs, and for once, Megamind does as he’s told.
There’s no grace in the act, no finesse or skill. They kiss clumsily, all teeth and tongues, wet and sloppy and desperate. They’re like a couple of teenagers, discovering for the first time what their bodies are capable of, eager to see how far they can go. Megamind rocks his weight again and again. Metro Man thrusts to meet him, their hips jerking towards each other roughly. The villain’s hands are still twined in his enemy’s hair, yanking and tearing convulsively, digging for his scalp through the thin black leather of his gloves. Metro Man keeps one hand supporting his nemesis, the broad palm cupped under his thigh, the fingers curling towards his groin. His other hand is wrapped around the nape of Megamind’s neck, dragging him in for kiss after kiss, even though the villain keeps throwing his head back and making noises that Metro Man never thought him capable of.
“Ah,” hisses Megamind, eyes screwed shut tight. “Ohhhh... hnh... uhhh...”
Primal sounds, from the back of his throat and the basest part of his nature. They’re not words. They’re not even meant to be heard, they’re meant to be felt--- and Metro Man finally just presses his lips against the delicious swelling at the center of Megamind’s throat, so that every vibration shivers directly into his mouth, thick and sweet as honey.
The heat is building. Metro Man can feel it, threading out through his muscles, coiling them tighter. He drops both hands to his enemy’s hips and guides him so that they move together, the friction maximized, the sensation now becoming almost unbearable. Megamind’s voice climbs to a shrill whine, his teeth bared and beautiful, and his whole body tightens right before he comes--- then orgasm is shaking him senseless, twisting his mouth wide open, drawing out of his aching lungs a deep, protracted moan.
That’s enough.
Enough to send Metro Man over the edge, to trigger in him a climax that rocks him to the core, splinters through his system with such power that he shoves blindly forward and surrenders to the tidal wave that pulls everything in him to the same central point. It’s a lucky thing that Megamind is built so sturdily--- a human partner would have been crushed by the force of the superhero’s spasmodic embrace.
The orgasm leaves him suddenly weak and uncoordinated. He sinks to his knees, Megamind sliding down along the pillar with him until he ends up in Metro Man’s lap, the two of them waiting for the fog to clear and their senses to return. Metro Man’s hands are still resting on Megamind’s hips, and the villain has one hand pressed against the superhero’s chest. The warehouse seems suddenly, outrageously, silent and still.
“So,” Megamind says at last, his eyes averted. “What does it feel like?”
“What does what feel like?” Metro Man mumbles.
“Being out of breath.”
Metro Man realizes that he’s panting. It turns into awkward laughter, laughter that blooms a little louder when Megamind starts giggling along with him. Like school kids breaking curfew, they clap hands over mouths that are upturned towards gleaming eyes, palms catching the worst of their nervous chittering. Megamind leans back against the pillar, but the bulk of him is still sitting comfortably on Metro Man’s thighs, legs draped lazily around his waist like they were meant to fit there. As their laughter fades into another bout of silence, Metro Man clears his throat.
“Hey, little buddy,” he starts to say.
But he suddenly twists his head, eyes widening, gazing into the middle distance. Megamind says meekly, “What?” only to be shushed by a curt gesture from the other. There it is again, jangling at the edge of his super-hearing--- the faint sound of a woman calling his name. At first, he doesn’t understand, doesn’t even remember how he got here. But the voice is too familiar and the truth can’t be ignored: it’s Roxanne. Still tied up in the office, still waiting for her hero to come and save her.
Metro Man turns back to Megamind, sprawled in his lap, now looking very nervous and self-conscious. He withdraws his hand from Metro Man’s chest, settles it protectively over his own, fingers laced through the silver spikes of his collar. He’s trembling.
“What’s wrong?”
And Metro Man mutters, “This is.”
With a burst of flight, he bolts up and away, flipping Megamind out of his lap and onto the floor. The villain scrambles to his feet while the hero allows his own to drift back to the ground a safe distance away. They shuffle uneasily, and Metro Man has no idea what to do or say. He wants to... apologize? He wants to turn back time and undo the last ten minutes. He doesn’t know now why he ever broke the rules in the first place, and he wonders if the game will ever be the same again.
Megamind suddenly springs into a triumphant pose, one index finger jabbed at his nemesis.
“Ha ha!” he crows. “You just proved me right! Justice can be corrupted!”
In the weird and wonderful pause that follows this exclamation, Metro Man can feel the stupidest smile forming on his face. Megamind nods his head almost imperceptibly.
“No,” Metro Man answers faintly. “I think you just proved me right...?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Megamind cups a hand behind the pale blue shell of his ear. “I can’t hear you, Justice, you’ll have to speak up!”
“I said,” the superhero calls, louder. “That you just proved me right!”
“What on earth could you possibly mean?”
“You just proved that Justice can never be tarnished,” he smirks. “While Evil will always be left with a stain.”
At Megamind’s clueless look, Metro Man whistles and points downwards. The crotch of the villain’s expensive leather pants is beginning to soak through with a dark wet patch. The superhero then points at his own groin--- his impervious costume is designed to resist damage from without, but it also works from within, and any incriminating stains are contained by the unique material.
“Ohhh, dear,” Megamind winces at himself. “Minion will not be pleased.” Looking back at Metro Man, he shakes his fist threateningly and calls, “You may have won this time, but next time you won’t be so lucky!”
“Justice will always triumph,” Metro Man asserts. “And Evil will always have to pay for dry-cleaning.”
“Until we meet again!” Megamind bawls dramatically.
He throws down a smoke bomb, vanishing in a cloud of cerulean vapor. Then the mist quickly dissipates, revealing him still standing there, slouched to one side, hand on jutted hip, goofy smile on his face.
“Uh,” he mumbles shyly. “Bye.”
With an awkward wave, he turns and trots away at a leisurely pace, knowing that he won’t be chased this time. Metro Man hovers away in the opposite direction, pausing for one moment to look back at Megamind just in time to see Megamind looking back at him. They giggle, wave again, and go their separate ways.
- - -
Always resourceful, Roxanne has managed to work one hand free of her restraints by the time the superhero arrives to finish the job. A quick blast of laser vision sends the ropes tumbling to the floor like a heap of lifeless toy snakes. He’s just about to sweep her up into his arms when he realizes that she’s staring at him like he’s grown horns.
“Roxanne,” he says gallantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Metro Man,” she answers slowly. “What happened to your hair?”
Catching his reflection in the nearest window, he realizes that his perfectly-coifed hair has been reduced to a tangled mess, thoroughly tousled by a certain pair of black-gloved hands.
“Well,” Metro Man explains. “The villain put up quite a fight.”
Which, really, is the truth.
_________end.