Eventually - Tiger & Bunny Fic (original) (raw)

10,000 years later, I wrote a thing. It started off with a kink meme prompt, but wandered far, far away from both prompt and timeliness of fill. And then I came back and found the entire Tiger & Bunny kink meme has wandered away to DW. So. Uh. I'll just leave this here, then.

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Word Count: 4840
Rating: Filthy
All grammar/spelling/tastefulness errors are my own.

In which Antonio comes to terms with his lipstick fetish. Eventually.

Antonio always felt so silly in a tuxedo, helmet sticking up incongruously above his old fashioned bow tie. His sponsors, handlers, assistants and stylists made sure his suits were perfectly tailored, but he still felt like he might burst the jacket at the seams if he made a wrong move. So, he tended to just stand straight and still, cradling a delicate champagne flute for something to do with his hands. He was waiting - waiting for all the announcements and pomp and photo ops to end so he could scrape Kotetsu off the floor and go home. At least the helmet made it easier to ignore people looking at him, smiling or pointing and murmuring behind their hands. The helmet hid the terrible, creeping heat in his face when, inevitably, a woman or two, or even a man stumbled drunkenly into him, ran a hand down his chest and peered up at him through their eyelashes. He could feel their breath through the layers of starched shirts when they told him how strong he was and how they wondered if he was rock hard all over.

Even after years on Hero TV he couldn't get used to them. And, honestly, what kind of person would hit on a man when you couldn't even see his face?

A commotion from the direction of the bar provided Antonio with the perfect excuse to extract himself from a thicket of waist-high fangirls. Kotetsu was yelling at a bar tender, gesticulating in a manner that said he might need to be scraped together earlier than usual. Unsurprising, considering this was his first big awards ceremony without Tomoe. But someone else was at Kotetsu's side before Antonio could get over there, distracting the raging Tiger with fluttering gestures, placing a hand on Kotetsu's bicep.

Kotetsu's blue suit might have looked very dapper without his silly Tiger mask and that terrible beard Tomoe had loved. He might have been acting more dapper if it weren't for the pyramid of shot glasses he'd lined up on the bar. The stranger he was now hanging off of was wearing a cherry red suit, with one of those trendy collars that looked like a wrecked hang glider tangled with a parrot. He had even more feathers pinned into his lavender hair, and lips painted a dazzling chrome. Antonio frowned.

“I just have to- just keep on saving them, you know. I shouldn't even be here right now,” Kotetsu slurred.

“It isn't for yourself, of course,” The strange man murmured, leaning in close to Kotetsu's ear as his eyes crawled all over Antonio. “Your fans, your public want to let you know their feelings. You deserve praise, and they want to give it to you.”

“'Tonio!” Kotetsu cried, his lip wobbling alarmingly.

“Tiger,” Antonio said, reproachfully. Kotetsu seemed to straighten up a little, looking around blearily before slumping again. His face flushed dark, from his slip-up or from the alcohol it was hard to say.

“Come on, let's get you a glass of water,” Antonio sighed.

The man in red helped steer Kotetsu toward the Heroes' table, where they set him up with water and some food to pick at. Antonio hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself too badly at the awards portion of the ceremony. Frankly, it was a little shocking that Agnes had let him get out of hand so early, or let the flamboyant stranger get close to him in such a state. Sure enough, he could see her haranguing the poor bartender. No doubt she'd be on her way over as soon as she spotted Kotetsu.

“Thanks,” Antonio told the man, stepping between him and Agnes's line of sight.

“Nathan,” he said, holding out a long, perfectly manicured hand. Antonio took it carefully and was surprised by the strength of Nathan's grip.

“Poor man,” Nathan hummed, glancing over at Kotetsu with real sadness in his eyes. “To suffer such a loss in the public eye.”

Antonio's eyebrows shot up. Tomoe's death hadn't been made public knowledge. Kotetsu's promise to her meant that he'd refused even one day off. He'd thrown all his rage and despair right into the show, ending up with his highest rank for the season yet – third place. For the public there'd been no sign of Kotetsu's pain – even some of the current Heroes didn't know. Had he actually been telling this... person about Tomoe?

A swell of dramatic music came over the PA before Antonio could ask who, exactly, Nathan was.

“Ah! That's my cue,” Nathan said. He dropped Antonio's hand and melted into the crowd with a lingering backward glance.

Antonio didn't realize what cue he meant until after the interminable proceedings of the rank announcement, speeches, medals and awards were over. Mr. Maverick finally took the podium again, and as the canned music gave an especially dramatic crescendo he announced a new Hero for next season.

“Our first and only self-sponsored Hero, a man that will burn crime from the streets of SternBild. Please welcome Fire Emblem!”

Antonio took one look at the perfect, mirror-bright lips showing under the mask and he knew. That ganguro dandy was a Hero. And self-sponsored? Antonio took a deep breath as the "Bourgeois Open Flame Broil" (what did that even mean?) sent birds of flame wheeling and diving over the heads of the cheering crowd. With that holo-fabric cape and the leotard that showed everything, he was a showman for sure. When the white eyes of his mask seemed to fall on Antonio's own and linger there, Antonio stared right back, uneasiness roiling in his gut.

*

Fire Emblem was a strong competitor and poised and cultured. He knew how to talk about wine and make women laugh but he still looked silly in a suit with a mask. The network (Antonio kept forgetting that he was his own boss) had even let him wear a lavender suit with his red mask to the annual awards gala. Even though he'd taken first place this season.

Kotetsu didn't seem quite as drunk as last year, but instead had settled into a heavy scotch-soaked quiet that was somehow more alarming. He'd placed fourth again, with Antonio just behind him in fifth. He always seemed to be just behind Kotetsu, but if he was anywhere else he wouldn't be there to catch him, so Antonio guessed that was all right.

Nathan's powers sent fireworks flickering over the upturned faces of the guests as the hovering autocams took footage of the crowd. Antonio realized the small form tucked against his left arm was Agnes when she slipped one taloned finger under the collar of his shirt. After they took Kotetsu home, he let her pin him to the wall of his apartment complex, and work those long nails into his expensive designer slacks.

“Sexual harassment,” he managed, trying not to squeeze her thin shoulders.

“Aren't you used to that by now?” she asked. Her gaze was as sharp and calculating as ever and her breath smelled like bourbon. Her little black dress had pink LEDs chasing themselves around the plunging neckline, little sparks of brightness wheeling across his white shirt and her honey hair in the shadows of the loading dock.

He came when she bit his neck, hard enough to leave a mark ringed in dark lipstick.

She stepped back and just stared at him for a minute, as if she were lining up a shot of his open fly and the blush under his mask. Then, she laughed, short but open and happy.

“I just thought you deserved a little something,” she said and stalked off to her car.

*

It would have been nice if they were allowed to dress for the gala at home, but of course they couldn't take any of their Hero costumes out of the Appolon Media building unless they were wearing them.

Antonio watched from the corner of his eye as Ben straightened Kotetsu's bow tie and tugged a little at his mask. Ben always wriggled out of the Gala somehow - lucky bastard. Instead, the three of them would go out to the gaming district for an epic bar crawl the night that filming wrapped for the season. Their little ritual.

Kotetsu had made it to third place briefly at the beginning of the season, but had ended up second-to-last between his erratic performance and two-weeks sidelined for massive damage to City Hall. Antonio had mixed feelings about overtaking him. As for first place, it was the closest to a tie Hero TV had ever seen. Nathan and the rookie, Keith, had been swapping the lead all season, leaving the other Heroes to squabble over their scraps.

As the winner, Keith had a white tux and a coterie of assistants primping him in the next room. He was a kid with more sweetness than sense, Antonio thought, but strap a jet pack on him and he became a phenom.

Antonio was taking his time, in no hurry for a long night of small talk and delicious looking hors d'oeuvres he couldn't eat through his helmet. He could see Nathan's profile in the little mirror of his locker door. He was putting on lipstick – lining his full, cupid's bow mouth with a little pencil, then using a tiny brush and a pot of something glittering. The shocking pinkness of his real skin disappeared under a slick of silver.

It took a lot of focus to get the tiny buttons of his stiff, new tux done up correctly. So much so, that Antonio didn't notice Nathan's approach until he was draping himself all over Antonio's back. In those heels, he was nearly as tall as Antonio himself, six feet plus of whipcord muscle and shamelessness. The little mirror framed his immaculately painted lips, moving close by Antonio's ear.

When his brain caught up and informed him of what Nathan had just said, he nearly choked.

“What?”

“I said, that I would like to climb you like a mountain – up one side and down the other.” Nathan's hand slid down to rest low on Antonio's stomach as his voice dropped a full octave. “If you think you could take it.”

I'm invulnerable Antonio wanted to say. Instead, he just sputtered something that wasn't even real words and blushed. Damn his blush. Nathan's lips quirked, and he brushed a knuckle across Antonio's flaming cheek. Antonio's stomach did an inexplicable flip. Then, Nathan pinched him on the ass and was suddenly gone, leaving Antonio cold and rooted to the locker room tile.

Nathan told him something like that every day. He'd always managed to ignore it before.

Much later, fortified by a drink or four, Antonio decided to blame the lipstick.

*

No one had guessed what a handful Keith would be when trashed. He was just so happy, he wanted to hug everyone. Women were lined up around his table, practically around the block, and all without even seeing his chiseled profile. He kept touching his mask like he was thinking of taking it off. Stupid, naïve, loveable kid was going to get... Well. It could be bad.

First place three years in a row. He'd left all of them in his dust this year, sometimes literally. His little 'confuse the enemy by blowing grit in everyone's eyes' bit was starting to wear thin.

Kotetsu was no help at all. It wasn't his worst finish ever, but something had happened with his parents, or Kaede. Antonio would hear all the details in the car later. He hoped there wouldn't be tears, and knew there would be, inevitably. Agnes was god knows where.

There was a burst of noise from Keith's table. He wondered briefly if he could get away with slipping out early. Just ditch all this and go home. Alone. Then, he made himself look.

Nathan was there, poised and at home among all the fine fabrics and holo-jewels that were in this season. He was directing the conversation, charming the admirers, seamlessly flicking Keith's hands away from the bowtie he kept fiddling with.

Somehow, across the diminishing crowd of VIPS, the strobing party lights and the walls of their masks, Nathan met his eyes. His pale lips quirked briefly, a familiar, private signal that hit Antonio low in the gut.

Thank fuck for Nathan.

Kotetsu stumbled into Antonio's side, gripped him. He had the kind of manic smile that portended trouble.

“Hey,” he said. “I've got an idea.”

The idea involved sweeping up all the Heroes that were willing into some kind of plainclothes bar crawl. He found himself hustled into his jeans upstairs in the locker room, then wandering down the street with Keith leaning on one arm and Kotetsu on the other. Nathan was smirking at him, and the newly introduced kid, Origami-something, was trailing along with them wide-eyed.

Several drinks later, he kept losing track of where the new kid was, like he had some kind of magic invisible powers. Maybe he did. God, he was even younger and paler and blonder than Keith. Didn't even look old enough to be in a bar. At least he seemed passably sane.

Kotetsu had somehow channeled his usual morose drunkenness into a borderline terrifying determination to have fun. Despite the glittering hard edge to Kotetsu's smile, Antonio had to admit he was having fun. Nathan was close, his come-ons more muted and lower pitched than usual. Maybe he was drunk, too. His eyes had a sleepy, half-mast look and his lavender lipstick had a minute smudge that Antonio was having difficulty not staring at. He was too buzzed to blush, or possibly just too buzzed to let it bother him.

It was stupid o'clock in the morning, even though the galas never ran that late. They were designed to be televised live in prime time, after all. They'd been wandering around looking for karaoke for at least an hour. He'd texted Ben forever ago. Hadn't heard back.

It was a great surprise, a great relief when a plush limo pulled up to collect them, even if it was lavender. With purple upholstery.

Kotetsu and the kids passed out as soon as they touched the seats.

“I thought mummy and daddy should get the little ones home to bed,” Nathan purred at him, waggling his eyebrows.

The inside of his mouth was very pink. Antonio realized belatedly that he'd said that out loud.

“I'm drunk,” Antonio added. Because it was true.

Nathan's small smile made whoever it fell on think it was just for him.

“Mmm. So. I'll just, maybe, rest here. Like this,” He said, tucking himself against Antonio's side.

Nathan threw off heat like a furnace. Kotetsu used to complain how hot Antonio was to share a bed with, back in their days of shoestring road trips and passing out together on futons. Nathan would be worse, he thought. Kotetsu was snoring a little, sprawled up against Keith's side in the seat across from them. Nathan's hand was so large, it seemed to cover half Antonio's chest. So much power behind those hands, gentled away behind the clothes and makeup and mannerisms.

“Why don't you wear red?” Antonio asked. Then realized that made no sense. “Lips, I mean. To match your costume.”

“With my skintone, darling? You can't be serious.” Nathan murmured.

Out of words, Antonio let his head loll back against the seat. Nathan settled closer against him.

The next morning, he found a perfect lavender lip-print at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, where Nathan's mouth had rested.

*

The come-ons were some kind of special hell Nathan was constructing just for him. He couldn't get used to them, or ignore them, or laugh them off anymore. The more people were around, the worse it got. He kept inviting Antonio out for drinks, but Antonio couldn't sort out what was serious and what was just provocation anymore.

He was running away, if he was honest with himself. But what else was there to do? Kotetsu's downward spiral was accelerating. It was the wrong time to reevaluate his whole life.

The new hero announcement was especially dramatic that year – and what kind of hero went by his real name, seriously. Unmasked, naked, a target for all the cameras in the world. Antonio went home from the gala early. Alone.

*

Just like he wasn't Kotetsu's best friend and then he was, and he wasn't almost 40 until he was, their random drinking nights had been just the two of them, until it was everyone. And it wasn't everyone until Barnaby Brooks, Jr. became Bunny. Antonio was still a little embarrassed for Barnaby about the nickname.

Antonio really wasn't sure how this topic had come up. Kotetsu had a habit of continuing discussions or arguments long after you thought they were closed. You'd just be sitting there innocently and all the sudden he'd be chewing you out about which food cart had the best noodles or whether you'd stolen his arrest three weeks ago. Poor Barnaby got it full force now that they were both partners and, ostensibly, friends. So, it must have been one of those old arguments Kotetsu just had to rehash. Naturally, because he was drunk, it had to be at the least appropriate time and place.

Ivan looked ready to fade into the faux wooden paneling any second. Barnaby stood, ready to stalk away from the table, so red he was nearly glowing. Kotetsu caught his wrist.

“Hey, Bunny, hey.” He said, looking comically earnest, “It's all right. Antonio's a virgin too and we don't think any less of him.”

Kotetsu was the only one who laughed, biting his lip and giggling drunkenly at the outrage across his partner's face. Neither of them looked at Antonio, busy eye-fucking in their ludicrously obvious way. Antonio was sure every single other person in ear shot was staring at him, though. He could feel a hot, bright blush crawling down his neck.

He managed to growl, “Very funny,” just as Barnaby tried to tug out of Kotetsu's grip. A lot of yelling seemed set to ensue, but then Keith seized their joined hands and announced that he was saving himself for marriage, too.

Ivan really did fade halfway out of sight, one hand pressed tight over his mouth. And Nathan, when Antonio finally made himself look, was staring straight back at him, speculative and... soft in a way that threatened to reignite his blush all over again.

Later, after Barnaby stormed off and Kotetsu ran after and Ivan excused himself to catch the last train, when Keith was distracted and oblivious to how the bartender was flirting with him, Nathan put a long hand on Antonio's knee and squeezed. Antonio let it stay there and tried not to let on that he noticed.

*

And it wasn't that night or even the next night when it finally happened. It was a few weeks later, after Antonio admitted to himself that he'd been jerking off for years to the thought of pale lipstick and the scratch of long nails through denim.

He and Nathan were the last two in the locker room that day, after a long chase across the city that stranded them in some maze of suburbs while Barnaby Brooks Jr. got their man. Nathan was unusually quiet, though he still left his shower curtain teasingly open a crack.

“Food?” Nathan asked as he redid his makeup. Antonio nodded, watching and not bothering to hide it.

By silent, mutual agreement, they slid into Nathan's civilian sports car together. He drove them to a small, tasteful restaurant with an intimidating wine list and near-invisible wait staff. He ordered for them both in perfect French.

With very little prompting, Nathan waxed lyrical about his company, chattering offhandedly about the newest science, marketing and management decisions. Antonio never felt lost, though he knew nothing about Sternbuild energy policy. He even managed not to blush when Nathan's toes slid up his calf under the opulently draped tablecloth. When Nathan teasingly tried to feed him a bite of custard, he closed his eyes and just went for it. Antonio took in the look on Nathan's face and the fine tremor of his fingers clutching the dessert spoon and smirked. Nathan called for the check.

Nathan's penthouse was surprisingly subdued, all in warm wood and soft wine reds. The way Nathan stripped their clothes off was the opposite, flitting from playful tease to desperate and overpowering and back. Nathan trapped him against the back of the couch, straddled his thigh and finally kissed him, lipstick slippery and waxy tasting and perfect. He was so strong in Antonio's arms, sliding and uncrushable and hot as flame. They nearly knocked over his Tiffany lamp.

“Care to step into my boudoir?” Nathan asked him, his mouth debauched as Antonio'd imagined.

Antonio's voice sounded hoarse, exhilarated. “Yeah. Yes.”

Nathan smiled at him, took his hand and tugged him to his feet effortlessly.

“I'd carry you off princess style if I thought you'd let me get away with it,” he said, scratching his thumbnails lightly across Antonio's hipbones.

It felt good to laugh with him, so Antonio did.

The bedroom was a cave of pink silk, the bed immense. Like fucking inside some frilly flower, Antonio thought, and shivered.

Nathan spun him around and pushed, and Antonio sprawled back on the bed obligingly. Nathan's hungry eyes on him made him feel sexy – god, he was hard, - so he stretched, let his legs fall open, feeling the slippery sheets slide under him. Nathan actually growled, bearing white teeth between his pale-painted lips. He tore Antonio's underwear down his legs, then followed them back up, teeth, nails and lips leaving a trail of marks up his inner thigh. Antonio tried to loosen his grip in the sheets before they tore.

“I've been waiting for this.” Nathan murmured, nosing the cease of his hip, breath ghosting maddeningly across his balls.

“I know. I- Unh.”

That mouth, oh. Antonio levered himself up on his elbows to watch, needing to see the obscene stretch of his lips. Nathan attacked his cock like he couldn't get enough, with gay pornstar gusto and panache. His hands were everywhere, his gaze smug and hungry. Even now, even knowing for hours, days, weeks that this was coming, Antonio was surprised how hungry he felt for it. He rested his hands in the coarse cap of Nathan's hair, careful not to squeeze or press.

“Fuck my mouth if you want,” Nathan rumbled, all trace of coquettishness gone.

“But I'm-”

“Invulnerable?” Nathan grabbed a double handful of his ass, kneading, spreading. “That doesn't mean-”

Nathan's finger traced up his crack, brushing against his hole, shocking, electric. The high, desperate whine that escaped Antonio froze them both. Antonio could feel his cheeks heating. Nathan had a look on his face that shot straight to Antonio's cock before his brain could process it.

And then his ass was in the air, his legs tossed over Nathan's shoulders, and Nathan was sucking at the skin behind his balls. And, there again, that voice that barely seemed like his own. High, breathy sounds fell from his lips as Nathan licked in broad swipes down and back and spread him wider. At the first wet tease around his hole, all the air felt punched out of his lungs.

Nathan paused, smiling at him through the shimmering ruins of his lipstick, giving him a chance to object. Shameless, lost, Antonio actually whined and canted his hips at him. Please, just don't make him beg for this. Not out loud, not yet.

And Nathan proceeded to take him apart completely. Broad, flat strokes and teasing probing gave way to flat out tongue-fucking, deep and messy. Half on his stomach, Antonio let the grunts and whimpers pour out of himself, too far gone to even notice how he sounded. He was sliding into some parallel existence where nothing mattered except Nathan's tongue in him and the singing electric arc from his ass to his brain to his cock.

And then something longer, thicker – fingers? Slid in next to the tongue. God, Nathan's hands were so big, with their long long fingers slick and twisting into him. If he could form actual words, he might be begging by now. His body begged without his conscious direction, bucking his hips against Nathan's mouth, fucking himself onto those fingers. More fingers, please more. Touch that spot inside him again that made him see white.

“I would never have- Antonio- Oh.” Nathan said, voice wrecked. His fingers pistoned in and out in time with the twist of Antonio's hips. “I don't believe our Tiger knows what he's talking about.”

Antonio twisted, took in the debauched look on his face. The lipstick was mostly gone, dissolved by sweat and saliva and lube.

“Don't. Want to talk. About Kotetsu.” Antonio grit out.

Nathan leaned in, kissed him, his fingers gentling to a distracted, scissoring slide. His cock brushed Antonio's hip, rested along his abs as Nathan braced over him. It felt huge. Antonio fumbled for it, wanting to feel the measure of it in his hand. Nathan moaned into the kiss.

“Can you come just like this? You're so open. So sensitive.”

“Fuck me. I'd rather-”

Nathan cut him off, kissing harder. And then he was up and away, fumbling through the tangled pillows and ruffled throw for a strip of condoms.

Antonio rolled a little, watching him. Watching his cock bob, his graceful hands tearing open the foil. Curious, he touched his hole. It really was loose, soft and gaping just a little. His own finger slid inside easily.

“Fuck.” Nathan swore. Somehow it was the hottest thing he'd said all night. Maybe the hottest thing Antonio had ever heard in his life. He slid his finger in deeper. It was thicker than Nathan's, but his ass was so slippery inside, open, wanting. He touched his own prostate, watched his cock jerk against his stomach. Obligingly, Nathan swore again.

And then Nathan was back, taking his hand, sliding Antonio's own fingers in and out of himself a couple times before withdrawing them. He manhandled Antonio onto his knees like he weighed nothing, and pressed his face down into the ruffled pillows.

“Next time, I'll let you try my prostate massager. Maybe a cock ring. I'll give you an orgasm like you've never had in your life.”

“Might do that this time,” Antonio told him. “Hurry.”

The slide in was slow, careful, the stretch more than he'd thought but less than he'd feared. He was so ready, and Nathan had apparently used at least half a bottle of lube. He spread his legs, and Nathan sunk all the way home, hipbones flush to his ass. And he stayed and stayed, gently raking his fingernails along Antonio's sides. He spread Antonio wider, hips making tiny circles like he was trying to press some impossible fraction of an inch deeper.

“How do you feel?” Nathan asked, his breath harsh in Antonio's ear.

Amazing. Full. Taken. “More,” Antonio directed.

Nathan gave him everything. Fucked him like it was the only thing that could save the city, like the universe was about to come crashing down around them, like there was no tomorrow or yesterday or three hours ago. Nathan fucked him exactly like a man who'd been waiting years for this and wanted to savor every second, but couldn't help himself. And Antonio fucked him back the same way, a cry wrung from his chest each time they crashed together.

He came, humping the mattress and screaming into a pillow as Nathan pushed him flat and sent a volley of pulsing thrusts right against his prostate. Some indeterminate amount of time later, his vision cleared and Nathan was still pounding him, deeper and deeper until he stilled and said “Antonio,” in a rusty, broken voice his fans would never hear or even recognize.

It was deeply satisfactory to lay there, melted, and let Nathan clean him up. The man seemed to worship his ass. Honestly, it was a little shocking how ok Antonio was with that.

“You're sure-” Nathan started.

“I'm invulnerable.” Antonio told him, cracking one eye. “And tired. Did you seriously put your makeup back on?”

Nathan grinned at him, striking one of his signature hip-cocking poses. Naked, he was all dark skin and way too far across the room.

“I've thought about having it made permanent. But I'd have to settle for just one color palette and you know that would never do. It would be hopelessly dated in a season.”

“Permanent, like, never comes off.”

“Mmmhm. Never runs or smears.”

“No,” Antonio said, “That would never do. Come back to bed.”

Nathan did.