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a-drifting-mannequin · 16 days ago

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Twins !!: Chapter 1

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE)

Pairings: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone; Stobotnik

Warnings (For chapter 1): not fully beta-read, I used military times

Summary: Guard dog? Only one? How about two?

Both Robotnik and Stone are protective/unhinged and you better hope none of them let go of that leash.

(Gonna put both POVs here' Also, giving thanks to Good coffee, Great coffee for teaching me how to make coffee digitally so I know how to describe Stone making lattes; thank you @bluerings for being supportive to the point of terrifying, thank you to everyone else that commented, reblogged and liked the post as well)

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Doctor Ivo Robotnik, a god taken human form. A never dying machine running on nothing but pure energy and fear from the weak. He produced, delivered, created and killed, walking pass those who are considered below him with a menacing grin. Even the toughest soldiers will fall by his hands, and that meant Stone was one of them.

Even when standing among morons and commoners, he shone and beamed like no other. A beacon of hope to those who dare to approach or to those who could see it. A living and walking message of something greater than life itself.

Stone considered him the center of his life, the sun of his solar system and the heart of his being. Robotnik gave him a purpose, an unending list of tasks to complete, whether difficult or not, and Stone would be damned if he didn’t follow every order to a T. Stone was willing to kill for him, to bleed dry for him and witness Robotnik drink up his blood after he was gone for. Stone would thank him for it

A loyal dog, a devoting worshipper, a willing test subject, a hopeless believer. If given the opportunity, Stone would wear those titles with pride. No shame, no embarrassment, no doubt in his mind about his position beside the genius.

He’s an agent with sufficient skill, with more than two brain cells rubbing against each other to produce enough electricity. A praise he so gratefully accepted from Robotnik. Being able to even exist at the same time as Robotnik was an honor in itself. To be able to serve by the man was a blessing granted from the heavens.

To witness infinite waves of magnificence, of blinding greatness and breath-taking beauty. To be in such a close vicinity was like being purify from the inside out. But in order to be sanctified, he needed witnesses.

Unfortunately, in this world, there’s no such things.

None of his colleagues saw that. No commanders, generals or sergeants could see the good Robotnik had contributed to their system. What he had accomplished would take an average genius over a decade to achieve.

No one was grateful, everyone was judgmental. Hypocrites. Two side of a coin, they say, but no one but Stone flipped to the heads to gaze at the carvings.

Though, Stone should always remember: like any existing gods and goddesses, the doctor had his bad days.

In the past, the people say that natural disasters such as volcano eruptions and typhoons were all the dangerous results of a god or goddess’s anger, displaying their wrath in a more comprehensible form for mortal eyes. All of them had caused death, inconvenience and harm to all living things and inanimate objects.

At least, even when Robotnik is angry, he knows how to control it mannerly.

One in particular was when he came back fuming and sprouting insults in five different languages while Stone stared and watched in silent, hands still filled with a few reports. A few badniks floated by his side, scanning his and Robotnik’s current health status, coming back with much expected results. A mini-nik was tossed on the table rather violently, but the doctor seemed to have the intention of fixing it later.

“Bad day, Doctor?” Stone asked politely, placing down the mug of coffee he had made a minute before Robotnik’s inevitable return.

“’Bad’ is an understatement, Agent.” Robotnik replied, one hand drummed the surface of his desk harshly but he still reached out with a free hand and gently took the cup from Stone. Their fingers brushed briefly. Stone would usually be hurt by the fact that Robotnik would call him ‘Agent’ from time to time, but it wasn’t uncommon that he would also use that when he’s mad.

Stone stepped up to stand beside him, hands clasped behind his back as he watched his beloved doctor rant and talk about his day, throwing out insults that wasn’t directed at him, more often than not slamming his fists on the table. Throughout it all, Stone dutifully listened, adding comments and providing fun little back talks for the doctor’s amusement.

It seemed to work slightly as he calmed down after every sentence that came out of the agent’s mouth, slowly relaxing in his chair. His fingers flying over the holographic keyboard with more ease than before, eyes more focus and the haze of wrath slowly dissipating.

Then, out of nowhere, an unwanted thought resurfaced in Stone’s mind. One that he had been trying to suppress these last few days.

I wonder how the doctor would look in a collar…

Stone mentally shook his head to try and clear the vivid imagery of royal purple against pale skin, of gleaming silver in the soft blue lights of the lab. A click of the clasp, a hard pull of a leash.

His mind shouldn’t be diving into lakes with a red sign in the front.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the genius still beside him. Robotnik sighed loudly, frustration clear in his tone and posture. Stone cursed himself for accidently spiking his heart beat.

“I can’t work when your thoughts are whispering near my ear, Stone.” Robotnik turned over to the agent, his legs crossed and eyes bored holes into his agent’s soul. His gaze was unwavering, making Stone more nervous than he already was.

Whenever Robotnik claim to be able to hear Stone’s thoughts, the agent swore he would just die on the spot. Stone knew he was no mind reader nor was he psychic, the doctor didn’t believe in such things, but Stone be damned if he hasn’t found a way to scientifically enter someone’s personal mind space yet.

“I don’t have all day, Stone. Spit it out.” The doctor urged, one hand coming up to rest on his cheek, finger tapping his cheekbone impatiently.

Swallowing visibly and holding back the urge to make a joke, Stone looked over to his superior who was still waiting for an answer. Either he gets send home early or gets fired. Stone would prefer the former as he would have space to wallow in self-pity and shame.

“I was wondering- “

“Hurry up.”

Stone sighed, shoulders visibly tensed. “I was wondering how you would look in a collar, Doctor.” He tried to make it quick, but the shame was still there. Some his words got caught behind his teeth, making it sound slurred when it left his lips. No way to professionally worm his way out now. He dug his grave when he even thought about it, now he’ll have to lie in it after revealing it to the man who was considered god in his eyes.

Robotnik stared at Stone as if he was crazy, eyes widening ever so slightly. The cogs in his brain suddenly forced to work over time to dissect each and every word Stone had just said. His eyes drifted off to somewhere far way, finger stopped tapping on his cheekbone but started to press into the soft flesh there.

Stone swore he was going to hyperventilate.

He needed to even his breath out if he didn’t want to dart out the room like a scared animal.

Breath in, breath out.

It’s okay if he fires you. It’s okay if he doesn’t want to see you again.

You’re replaceable. You’re disposable. You’re not worth—

“Fine. If this is a little experiment of yours, I’ll indulge.” Robotnik finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence between both of them. Waving a hand to dismiss Stone, Robotnik pulled himself back towards his desk and started to work again as if nothing happened.

Stone stood there, stunned, staring at the back of his superior’s head.

Did he… agreed to it? Willingly without question?

Before the flabbergasted agent could say anything else, Robotnik was back to staring daggers into his soul, hands absently typing up a line of codes on his keyboard. With a quick jolt and a nod, Stone scurried back to his desk with an unbearable giddiness inside his chest.

Stone knew how gods and goddess work. They don’t just stand down for anybody, much less a mortal that they created. To think about chaining a god or goddess back is to be wishing for a painfully slow death. Only a few ever got the mercy of being dismissed.

Stone couldn’t let go of such an opportunity.

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Robotnik sent him home early for the day, claiming that he had other important stuff to tend to and did not feel like babysitting him. The agent made no comment about his clear schedule. Stone gathered his stuff, told his boss to have a good night before silently walking out to the parking lot. He was sure every place was rigged with a camera or two.

Securing his things onto his bike, Stone circled around the two wheeled vehicle like a snake to its prey, hands held behind his back to make sure no one was pulling tricks on him. Whether it was tying several things to the back of his bike or flat tiring his ride, Stone was having none of it.

After a three-minute check, the agent hopped on – completely ditching the helmet – and took a shortcut back to his apartment. The last thing he needed was a ticket.

The ride back was uneventful, nothing he liked to mention in particular. A tenant in his apartment complex just moved out because, according to rumors, she got married. In remains of that, she left a bright yellow envelope in his mail slot that contained some information about her marriage, mostly likely asking him to come. Several others on his floor also received the same thing, claiming she was just being nice despite not knowing a lot of people well enough. Stone sighed and left it at the front door, not bothering to even give her a proper reply.

She was a nice lady, really. He liked her because she would pipe down when asked, would lend a hand when requested. She wouldn’t ask about his job even though she was curious. She was one of the many reason Stone wondered why he moved out of that government issued condo.

Placing all his stuff down on one side of the couch, not bothering to even organize anything. He darted straight for the bathroom, changing and preparing for bed early. Usually, by this hour, Stone would still be sitting in his living room, sorting out leftover emails for the doctor and checking on his digital calendar, erasing any delayed meetings or ones that Robotnik preferred not to attend. But he was tired, exhausted, and so unbearably restless that doing work wouldn’t sate the feeling. And something else was on his mind.

Stone ditched dinner for the night, opting to just eat an apple after his stomach protested against his choice of not having a proper meal.

Sitting himself down on his bed, door locked, knees pulled up near his chest to support the tablet that laid propped up on his thighs, Stone reviewed his options. He spent around 30 minutes choosing a specific texture and color, picking a design that both him and the doctor would prefer to look at. At some point, Stone went to turn off the lights in his room when it hit 2230, but refusing to sleep, his brain keeping his eyes glued to the screen in the dark.

After he had set his mind on the design that he favored, Stone’s finger hesitantly hovered over the ‘deliver’ button. He reached over to his nightstand and blindly grabbed the eye drops, moisturizing his eyes before they scream in pain from dryness.

Would the doctor be mad that he took his words a tad too seriously? Would he be fired for ordering this even when the doctor agreed to the ‘experiment’?

Stone swallowed thickly, feeling a drop of sweat slowly trickling down the side of his forehead despite the AC in the room. Sighing and turning his head in another direction, Stone tapped at his screen randomly – almost angrily – until the soft blip was heard and his tablet signaled that the order had been placed and will be ready to be delivered.

Stone looked at the estimate time for delivery.

A week. It would probably come in on Tuesday.

Another sigh escaped him. Taking a glance at the time before turning off the tablet, Stone pulled the covers and bury himself under them in hopes of drowning out his guilty thoughts with sleep.

It inevitably didn’t work.

The following days were nothing out the ordinary, to Stone’s relief. Robotnik barely said anything regarding the situation that still had Stone in a chokehold, but knowing the doctor wouldn’t bring it up gave away some tension.

Until the day it delivered.

It was not, in fact, on Tuesday morning like the agent had expected. It sat with the receptionist, a small carefully packaged box with one corner slightly soaked from the rain outside. Stone never paid too much mind to who worked the shift but now he needed to pay attention.

Did they saw the package and assumed it belonged to one of the residents? Did they check the contents inside or just read the label on top?

Most importantly: did they know he ordered that?

Stone sighed internally, shaking his drenched helmet a few times before walking up to the desk. The receptionist behind it looked up at him with bored out eyes. No questions or fake greetings, likely knowing he live in the building and just waiting for him to ask a question.

“When was this package delivered?” Stone asked, trying to keep his face neutral and not give out the fact he was ashamed of himself.

“Around the afternoon, maybe 1400, I think.” Replied the receptionist, who immediately cocked his head towards the package, signaling for Stone to take it. “I saw it in your name, so just take it.”

So: Yes, no and yes.

Stone didn’t know whether to be glad that the receptionist knew it that he ordered it or didn’t bother asking questions about the content inside. Giving him a quiet thanks and grabbing the box more violently than he intended, Stone took one of the empty elevators up to his place with a sense of unease.

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Although it barely weighs like anything, it certainly felt like Stone was carrying a dumbbell to work.

Stone sighed and sped up, passing main security and making a b-line straight for the lab. Some other agents greeted him on the way for some unknown reason, but Stone barely gave them so much of a glance before he was fumbling with his pockets, trying to find his ID and badge to present to the scanner at the door.

The smell of cigarette wafted through the air, just reaching Stone’s nose enough to make him wish for a morning cigarette of his own.

The badniks stationed at the door probably recognized Stone’s unusual nervousness as they quickly accessed the door for Stone to enter. They probably did it out of pity. The agent smiled and thanked them, finally feeling like he didn’t have to be tensed and afraid for nothing.

Well, maybe there was something to be afraid of, but he was nowhere near it yet.

The doctor wasn’t in yet, so that was a good sign. Stone always made sure he arrived two hours before the genius himself so he could clean up and make his latte. Some badniks floated around the lab lazily, analyzing anything that came in their path, which meant analyzing whatever state Stone was in. one badnik perked up and knocked against the arm holding his briefcase. Maybe they found the collar.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing dangerous.” Stone ushered the badniks away, trying his best to shoo them off. Unfortunately, he was dealing with the doctor’s inventions, which meant stubbornness.

The agent sighed and unlatched his briefcase, cautiously pulling out the velvet purple collar with a silver ring attached to the front for the leash (Stone assumed) that came with the collar. Silver and purple was his color choice, with yellow embroidered words that read out ‘STONE’S’ on the back of the collar near the buckle. Stone was embarrassed when the person he ordered it from asked if he wanted to write anything on it (Most recommended was either the pet’s name or the owner’s), but he didn’t pass on the opportunity for it.

The drones scan it carefully, machinery whirring and their usually deathly beam toned down to something that looked like an x-ray scan. Stone stood nervously, his nerves feeling jittery and he swore his heart either stopped beating or was beating way too fast for him to catch on.

Yanking the collar away from the badniks’ scans, Stone hurried to the small kitchen to prepare the doctor’s coffee before it was too late. On his way there, Stone left the collar on Robotnik’s desk, the embroidered name turned away from view and leash nicely coiled right beside it.

Stone let his mind rest from its anxieties as he fell back into the latte making routine, watching the espresso swell and the milk swirl around in the pitcher. The latte was finished in a limited time, perfect the way he wanted it and just how the doctor would prefer it. Stone planned on drawing something more complicated into the cup, so after a minute of shuffling around the small space, Stone propped up a circuit board and started etching every detail onto the top. He was quite proud of what he made, gazing at it with a grin that would split his face in two.

Picking up the cup and choosing a saucer for it, Stone made his way towards the lab, nervous to find Robotnik there, swiveling around in his chair as his hand glided across holo-screens. The collar was still on the table, barely moved let alone touched.

Okay, let’s get this over with. Stone thought to himself as he placed the cup near the collar, eyes lingering on it for a moment to admire the way how the light was caught against the silver buckle.

“Your latte, Doctor.” Stone announced softly, straightening himself and placing both hands behind his back as Robotnik moved over to where Stone stood, picking up the coffee with grace and taking a long drink from it.

The music kept playing, Robotnik never looked at the collar, and Stone was getting more anxious by the second.

Of course. Of course the doctor meant it as a joke, he should’ve known that. Why would he ever indulge in the idea of a collar in the first place?

And Stone thought he was smarter than this. Maybe he was wrong. He should probably remove it from the doctor’s line of sight.

Just as he reached out for it however, Robotnik’s hand darted out and grabbed his wrist tightly, perfectly trimmed nails digging into the flesh of his wrist. Stone pulled back to put his hand back to their original position, and was surprised he was allowed to. The agent realized too late that the doctor was gloveless.

“About time, Agent.” Robotnik commented, clicking a few buttons and turning off the music completely.

Stone just stared.

About time for what? He couldn’t possibly be talking about the collar, right?

The doctor abruptly stood up and took of his coat, draping it over the back of his chair. Stone continued to be frozen in place, eyes widening by the second as Robotnik seemed to take pleasure in removing his coat as slowly as possible. Although he wore a turtleneck underneath, Stone still considered that moment being the first he had seen the doctor so dressed down.

So he was talking about it.

Fixing and adjusting the high neck of his turtleneck, Robotnik beckoned Stone closer with his finger, practically hauling him forward without physical touch. Stone complied without a word.

“Go ahead, Agent, do the honors.” Robotnik said, arms crossed in front of him as he faced his back towards Stone, head turned ever so slightly to look at his stunned agent. He was sure he looked like a tomato.

Swallowing thickly, Stone picked up the collar with shaky hands, already sweaty from his nervousness and slowly placed it around his boss’s neck before fastening it. Not too tight to choke, not too loose to be uncomfortable. It sat just over his Adams apple.

Robotnik attempted at swallowing, picking up his latte and taking a sip from it before he deemed it suitable. Stone’s hands hovered in front of himself, eyes fixated on the collar, the color complimenting Robotnik’s pale skin and dark complexion.

“I’m sure there was another item you have yet to give to me.” Robotnik requested, hand outstretched and an expected look on his face.

Stone’s throat dried up and closed on him. Another swallow, this one dryer than the previous.

The leash laid still coiled on the table, the clasp gleaming lightly in the light of the monitor. Stone picked it up, smoothing his hand across the fabric before attaching it on the back. He wondered why there was a ring in front if he wasn’t going to use it.

After it was fully attached and Stone had backed up more than he should, Robotnik took his sweet time admiring it in a small, circular mirror he had conjured from a badnik. The leash hung loosely and fell down his back, giving the illusion of a well-crafted scarf if it wasn’t swaying from side to side so often with every little movement.

The doctor didn’t seem to mind the fact he was wearing something made for an animal while the agent couldn’t get all the thoughts he had concealed for years under control. The thought rose and died down, pushed to the back of Stone’s mind before any could fully become too vivid.

“Shut up, Stone. What I say goes.” Robotnik raised a finger and pressed it against Stone’s lips. At least he knew the agent was going to open his mouth to apologize. The pad of his finger pressed into Stone’s lips, still and indecisive about whether or not should said finger be pushed into the agent’s mouth.

Stone waited with bated breath. It didn’t happen. The finger was removed and the hand was placed on Robotnik’s hip.

Stone sighed and nodded, a muted ‘yessir’ gone unheard.

The badniks that were nearby floated towards their creator, curiously looking at the new accessory that laid on his neck. Robotnik smirked and let out a breathy laugh, patting their hull and praising them in Japanese. Stone decided to tune those honey covered words out lest he attempt something stupid.

Before Stone could return to his desk with something that didn’t feel exactly like relief but close enough to it to put him at ease, a cold pain shot him square through his heart, making it drop to the pit of his stomach with an imaginary dull thud.

Robotnik immediately took Stone sudden stillness for something relating to either immediate danger or profound annoyance. Twirling the leash around his finger and down his wrist like a telephone cord, Robotnik eyed Stone expectedly, waiting for the stunned agent to speak up about their new problem.

“We have a field test today, Doctor.” Stone said meekly, head down casted with the look of intense guilt on his face. “It’s for the new paralysis system as well as self-destruction and auto pilot system.” Stone listed out the contents of the test, hands fiddling with each other despite his best efforts to stop.

The doctor only hummed in acknowledgement and sighed with annoyance, fingers pitching his temples as a few curses were muttered. He made no move to remove the collar.

Stone’s face heated up again.

“What time, Stone?” Robotnik asked, signaling a few badniks towards the mobile lab.

“In about 20 minutes, Doctor.” Stone said, eyes finally meeting his superior in hopes of him understanding the situation.

Unfortunately, Robotnik decided to be illiterate for the day and strutted off towards his quarters, either preparing the program or to change his clothes (the coat still laid draped on the chair, he didn’t take it with him).

Stone watched in complete mortification, his blood running cold despite his body feeling like it was burning.

Maybe he could get through this, as long as nothing goes wrong. As long as no one stare at the doctor from the back for too long. The collar will still be there; questions will be raise but Stone felt like Robotnik would spare him the shame of answering it and ignoring it all together.

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Stone arrived at their destination first with the permission of using his bike to get there. Stone greeted Commander Walters, the sergeant and the mayor at the scene, pulling out his badge and informing them about Robotnik’s arrival, whether he was coming late or not. They gave him a hollow thanks for his services before sending him to stand with the rest of the agents there.

Stone made a mental note of their names: Sergeant Lucas and Major Emily. Nice looking people, though Stone much preferred to stare into the sun than their faces.

Sergeant Lucas, a man past middle age addressed Stone with a stern voice of a father. Major Emily was younger than the sergeant by a few years, maybe older than Stone by a year, but he seemed to sustain a concerning amount of anxiety for someone his age.

The agent quickly noted that the contamination team was on stand-by along with the medical team, chatting and smoking despite their current role for the scene. Stone sighed at the sight, gazing at the cigarettes longer than he should be.

It took the doctor less than ten minutes to arrive at the scene, the mobile lab deafeningly screeching to a halt, annoying a few standing too close to it. Commander Walters quickly made his way towards the door of the truck, standing a few feet away from it as the steps rolled out. He planned on greeting the doctor and get him through the bare minimum manner he should have, like a mother with a particularly rowdy child.

Robotnik appeared like a god among mortals, little clouds of smoke curling out by his sides. Stone would only think that if it wasn’t for the visible velvet purple on his neck. The leash was tucked away elsewhere, presumably curled up and pushed against the collar of his coat. The commander was reasonably confused and shocked, eyeing the collar suspiciously but not questioning it. Stone winced at the sight of the commander’s slightly raised brow.

Before the test started, Robotnik ordered for Major Emily (now known to Robotnik as Major I-don’t-care) to have Stone be beside him at all times regardless of circumstances. The major tried and failed to explain to Robotnik about the dangers of having an unarmed agent next to him while he conducted the test, but the doctor was having none of that.

Stone sighed and thanked his lucky stars that the back of the collar was covered by the high collar coat Robotnik was wearing.

The test ran smoothly, with little to no unnecessary or wanton destruction. Stone tuned out most of it, knowing how it will all go down considering he got front seats to the new features months before the test at hand.

What Stone hadn’t notice was, during the duration of the doctor’s speech, Robotnik had removed his coat and gave it to one of his badniks, effectively having it carry the coat away and back to the mobile lab. The agent only realized it when Major I-don’t-care (Major Emily, Stone thought to himself) tapped his shoulder.

“Is there something you need, Major?” Stone answered politely, keeping the irritation out his voice.

“Please explain why your name is plastered on the back of the doctor’s…new accessory, agent.” His eyes were squinting from the sun, but his tone reflected uneasiness and a bit of concern. The major looked like he was holding back a load of disgusted statements behind his teeth. Stone felt his face heat up as he turned his head to see that, indeed, some people were staring a bit too intensely at the yellow embroidered words on the back. If Robotnik noticed, he didn’t address it.

A mini-nik was making sure the leash that was still attached to the collar didn’t fall of, carefully and softly coiling it around Robotnik’s and tucking it under his turtleneck while the rest of the audience was distracted with the show the badniks were putting up. Stone silently thanked the mini-nik.

Stone quickly shooed the major away, shuffling nervously by the doctor’s side to try and address the situation without being too obvious. He leaned in and tapped Robotnik’s shoulder once and whispered in his ear when the doctor paused his speech to listen to his agent.

“Doctor, my name is on the back of the collar.” Stone pointed out nervously. There was no way around it, no convenient short-cuts or excuses, so being blunt and straightforward was his best and safest option.

To his surprise – or the lack of it actually, the doctor just shrugged and continued as if nothing happened. As if his agent didn’t order or commissioned a custom made collar with his own name in the back. Stone was sure he could die of embarrassment. Some of the contamination crew eyed him from under their mask. Some judgmental, throwing him disgusted looks while exactly one threw him two thumbs up with a cheery attitude. Stone mentally note to spare him when the doctor took over the world.

Throughout the conclusion of the test, Stone stood as close to Robotnik as possible, looking like as if he might suffer from a heat stroke or a heart attack at any moment. Robotnik didn’t give him so much as a glance, clearly enjoying his time insulting everyone in the audience. Stone wished he was down there.

Eventually, somewhere between degrading someone’s brain matter and explaining the medical side effects of the paralysis system, the sergeant Stone had greeted when he first arrived approached Robotnik with a fury that was a common sight to Stone at that point.

His hands were balled into fists by his side, strides long and firm, each step pronounced by his heavy military boots. The cap that laid on his head previously was gone, letting medium brunette hair with a few grey strands be ruffled by the wind. Robotnik visibly paused at the sight, hands curled slightly in front of his chest and head slightly turned to the sergeant’s direction, an annoyed and disgusted expression laid on his features.

Stone wasn’t sure what spiraled down afterwards as his brain scrambled to understand the situation. When the sergeant started yelling, he was talking about how the paralysis system could possibly endanger an ally’s life if used for the wrong purpose. Robotnik was also yelling back at him, somehow managing to respond to all the sergeant’s stupid question while producing insults of his own.

Later on in the conversation, Sergeant Lucas talked about the auto-pilot system, accusing the doctor of not having a manual override in case of a dire situation, to which Robotnik loudly objected to with a finger pointed directly at sergeant.

Then it happened. Stone saw it, just a small motion that could be easily missed if he wasn’t careful. The tightening muscle of the doctor’s jaw, how his hands pressed down on the buttons of his control glove, his feet grounding himself and staying put in his chosen position. The doctor had stopped shouting, his voice dying down for a completely different reason. Sergeant Lucas probably thought he won the argument, but Stone knew he was about to be dragged down to Hell and back if he didn’t shut up now.

Unfortunately, not everyone saw the signs of danger before it was too late. Stone had to prevent it. He didn’t want his doctor getting hurt, much less letting him waste his energy on an idiot that would know better if he used his brain.

Stone could feel his pulse rapidly increasing, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear and his blood not knowing whether to run cold or boil over.

With one swift movement, Stone reached up and untucked the leash from where it was coiled around the doctor’s neck, tucked under the high neck of his turtleneck. The thick and rough fabric met Stone’s hand, and he paused for a fracture of a second to decide whether it was a good idea or not.

His brain worked faster than his physical action, however, as he quickly found himself tugging hard on the leash and pulling Robotnik back a few steps.

“Down boy!” Stone commanded with a tone he rarely used around the doctor, a small choked off noise came from the genius as he was dragged back a few pace. The agent’s voice echoed throughout the field, evoking a few interested faces and some disgusted comments.

The medical team could only gawk from a distance, exchanging alarmed glances as they witness Stone’s impulsive action. The contamination team ushered each other away, ash tray forgotten and snacks left for the raccoons to take.

Commander Walters and Major Emily raised their heads from the other side of the field like a startled deer, eyes quickly darting towards the scene that was being unfolded. The clipboard Walters was holding slowly slipped from his grasp before he steadied himself, gripping on the clipboard for dear life and wrinkling the papers. Major Emily sent a worried questioning look towards the commander, eyes clearly asking whether Stone would die by Robotnik’s hands after they leave the scene or he would be assigned to someone else

Robotnik’s hand came up and tugged on the collar, eyes wide and darting behind him to look at his agent before that hand was dropped to his side. His mind went blue-screened, a quiet but irritating whirring occupied the more sensible part of his mind. Stone’s face was pulled into something cold and calculated, startling the sergeant who had his lips sealed and jaw forced shut.

“We don’t need another HR report.” The formalities were dropped. No ‘Doctor’, no ‘Sir’ or anything of the sort. The usual docile and big eyed agent’s voice dropped an octave lower, eyes staring daggers into the back of the doctor’s head. Stone had addressed Robotnik as if he was the agent in this case.

The doctor nodded slowly, hands unclenching by his sides as he swallowed hard around the collar. Stone knew that pull would’ve choked his doctor or broke his windpipe if he was more violent, but it luckily didn’t. however, it did leave the medical and contamination team in shock. Commander Walters, Major Emily and Sergeant could only stare, mouth slightly hanging while the sergeant’s was still snapped shut.

Robotnik cleared his throat and straightened himself, glancing ever so often at his agent’s expression and the way his hand was still clutching the leash. Stone felt dread settling in his stomach like lead, but he kept his expression up, not letting it falter lest all of this gone to waste. Robotnik brushed invincible dust off himself, scoffing in a softer manner as his eyes darted wildly between the agent that still held the leash behind him and the stunned sergeant in front of him.

With a glance and a simple nod, Stone let go of the leash and dutifully followed the doctor back to mobile lab. Ten mini-niks buzzed around their creator, trying to access his current physical state while Robotnik tried to wave them away. Stone’s face was turned away from everyone else, steady and quiet steps approaching his bike and picking up the helmet, ready to depart.

“Stone, you’re coming with me.” Robotnik ordered, his expression now pulled back to something more neutral as he beckon his agent. The one that just pulled on the leash and commanded him like he was a dog.

Stone’s body gone rigid, his movement stiff but his expression remained cold. He nodded and dropped his helmet down on the seat of his bike, walking over to join the doctor in his truck.

Any government official left on the field could only silently discuss with each other about the scene the pair had caused. Sergeant Lucas was reasonably pissed, immediately falling into an angry, controlled rant about Robotnik while Major Emily’s main concern was about the collar.

“I did ask about it.” Stated the major, eyeing everyone else around him with worry. Commander Walters nodded solemnly, a thumb and index under his chin as he tried to analyze the situation in his mind.

The guy who threw Stone two positive thumbs up were being ridiculed by his teammates, like a little brother with his older siblings. He tried to defend himself, though he wasn’t sure if he had an excuse, so he succumbed to the jokes and mocking.

****

Word count: 6164 words

#agent stone #dr robotnik #dr eggman #stobotnik #collar stuff #thank you for the support #twins !!#no this is not a multi fic #the plot isnt like actually there but there are 4 chapters planned so yea #cue nasty dogs by sir mix-a-lot

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hope-to-hell · 2 months ago

Text

I like you a latte part 2: the one where they go to Montana (the author is a dirty liar). Agent Stone x Ivo Robotnik. Smut, handjobs, fingers in mouth. These two guys, I swear.

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Once upon a time, there were two fools in love: the illustrious Doctor Robotnik, who did not yet have plans to take over the world but was getting a bit bored of his current job, and his wide-eyed, slightly less than innocent companion, Agent Stone.

Okay, so. The last thing we saw was those two dumbasses finally getting their shit together, by which I mean Ivo Robotnik finally realized that a) Agent Stone, who may or may not have acquired his position through less than legal means— (Oh, come on. This again?) Please. Can we at least get through the introduction? Anyway. Where was I? Ahem.

Ivo Robotnik finally realized that a) Agent Stone wanted him– not power or prestige, not anything but to stand at his dear Doctor’s side and get punched in the stomach once a day and twice on Thursdays, and b) Ivo himself very much wanted to see where this was headed. Are we caught up? Yes? Good. On we go. And yes, there is very much more to them. But we’re trying to make a snazzy introduction here, so the elaboration can wait.

The funny thing is, as far as anyone else is concerned, nothing at all has changed. Anyone seeing the two of them just worries about that poor Agent Stone and how terribly that nasty Doctor Robotnik treats him. It’s not like the goons down at the canteen are at all subtle with their whispering. Did you see those bruises on his wrists? I heard Robotnik hung him from the rafters for breathing too loud. He only wishes he could get Ivo to tie him up. (Hey!) But grabby hands are almost as good, at least when they’re still in the “make out like horny teenagers in a Dennys parking lot” stage. (It was a Red Lobster. At least get the facts straight.) Oh, like that’s a whole lot better.

Stone still makes coffee and Ivo glowers and pretends he isn’t halfway to pushing Stone down over the workbench and doing delightfully indecent things to him. Okay, so he’s more than halfway. In fact, he’s doing it right now. Let’s move in for a closer look. See how Stone’s got his arms back above his head, gripping the edge of the workbench? His thumbs are cramping up something awful, but that’s fine. The aesthetic is sublime, with how his spine’s arching like a needy cat’s— what, got nothing to say about that?-- one boot planted on a chair and the other digging into Ivo’s ass, heel snarled in the fabric of his coat. And normally he’d get told off for that— you’ll be smoothing those wrinkles out with your tongue— , but right now Ivo’s a little busy sucking a deep bruise into the tender skin beneath Stone’s jaw, where there will be no possible way to hide it.

Oh, that’s a sight. But it’s distracting from the point of the story, because this is the story of when they finally fuck. (Jesus. Crude much?) Listen, it’s not like we’re just going to jump straight to the horizontal half-marathon, the two-headed bed monster, the— okay, okay. This is supposed to be a lighthearted romp, a pg-13 romantic comedy deal. If we get too bogged down in details, this is going to turn x-rated in a hurry and you’ll just have to wait for the director’s cut for that one. (Now you’re teasing them. Isn’t that a little cruel?)

A little cruelty never hurt anyone. For now just use your imaginations and we’ll see if we can get through this without having to up the rating. They’re not going to get much farther right now, anyway. The red phone is ringing and some poor Guy has to stick his head through the door and stutter out hey, um, I know you’re busy but you really gotta pick up the phone. There’s a call coming in: something about a power surge out in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Not as interesting as what they’re up to, but too bad. A contract is a contract, and if Ivo wants that sweet sweet government funding he’d better get there in a hurry.

Who gives a damn about the finer points of packing, and whether or not Stone has something casual in his duffel bag (he does: there’s a set of comfy sweats in there, just in case. The man can’t possibly wear a suit every second of the day. Also, he sleeps nude. Just thought that was worth mentioning). (Oh my god are we really going there?) Of course we are, or do I have to bring up that time in Oslo? (Ugh. Fine.) To be fair, he does keep his boots by the bed just in case he has to do some emergency agent-ing after hours. It’s certainly not in the hopes he’ll be discovered by a certain doctor jonesing for a late-night caffeine fix, even if he has some very interesting thoughts about that.

But this is the story of the first time they fuck, is it not? And like any good story, it needs a decent leadup: something to whet the appetite, something that’ll build tension higher and higher until it all comes tumbling down in a delightful spray of various bodily fluids. So this is where it gets good:

Picture the Wachowski residence, late morning. Ivo Robotnik is laid out on the floor, bruise blooming on his cheek, snoring mean-spirited little snores. Now picture Stone, out of breath, barreling through the front door and probably leaving scorch marks on the floorboards as he skids to a halt. His heart’s banging around in his ribcage like one of those old-timey punching balloons. Doctor, are you alright?

Fuck, that guy hits hard for a little dweeb. Oh, good, the Doctor’s insults are intact. He’ll be fine. Stone helps him up and is immediately treated to a thousand-watt glare. And where were you?

Um. Outside? You could punish me, if you like. Isn’t he hopeful? Such a glutton for punishment. Bet you know what’s coming next. I know you like this part. Listen close for that wet guh when Ivo grabs Stone by the lower teeth and yanks him into berating range. This is the kind of manhandling Stone dreams about: rough, artless, leaving him gagging on Ivo’s fingers. (I remember.)

Oh yes, my masochistic little limpet. Ivo’s fingers are twitching in Stone’s mouth. Your punishment— would you stop licking me for one second, I’m trying to make a point here— your punishment is to think about this— and he’s reaching with his other hand, not to deliver a blow but to grab Stone right between the legs, rough enough to hurt but Stone’s making some very enthusiastic sounds and his cock’s waking up to say hello. But that’s not the punishment. That happens when Ivo takes both hands away. Now suffer. I’ll see you later. I’m thinking tacos for dinner. And Stone? Don’t you dare touch yourself.

(That day was brutal.) I’ll bet. Our dear Agent Stone has to do a bowlegged walk back to the mobile lab, poor thing, trying to relieve some of that pressure without actually touching. Doc said no, and Stone’s gonna be the best boy and listen. It’s not like he’s a horny teenager ready to go off at the slightest touch, even if it has been a while. He can keep his hands off his dick. He can.

Remember how Stone sleeps naked? Well, he’s tossing and turning that night, still— shall we say— frustrated. Every time he thrashes, the sheets fall a little lower until they’re just barely hanging on, brushing against his skin, helping him dream all sorts of lascivious dreams. He’s not touching; even in slumber he’s still doggedly obeying Ivo’s order. But he can’t help the soft breathy Ivo that slips from his lips. Good thing the Doctor is passing by just at that moment. How very convenient.

Look, it’s one thing for Robotnik to be innocently strolling down the hall minding his own business when he spies Agent Stone sprawled out on the bed, artfully lit by soft red lowlights. It’s another thing for him to cross the threshold, creeping to the bed until he’s close enough to hear his own name. And it’s another thing still for him to press a hand over Stone’s mouth and lean down to murmur a positively diabolical wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. He’s lucky he doesn’t get his arm broken at the very least. Maybe Stone smelled him while he was sleeping.

(Honestly? I could hear him when he came in. He’s not as sneaky as he thinks; I don’t think he’s ever managed to sneak up on me properly.) Oh shit, for real? Even that time with the cuffs? (Even the time with the cuffs.) But despite that, the whole hand-over-mouth business— the sudden intimate contact— is a bit of a surprise. (Got me there.) Even more surprising is the way Ivo pries Stone’s mouth open.

You liked my fingers in your mouth before, huh? You get another taste, lucky you. Now suck. And Ivo strokes the pads of his fingers over Stone’s tongue, pushing deeper til the saliva on his hand starts to get thick and ropy. Get ‘em nice and wet. Oh, good boy, there you go.

It’s nice to know the words still have the same effect: Stone jerks like lightning just struck him in the asshole, garbling out the most undignified grargh. But our boy Stone hasn’t survived this long without picking up a few useful skills. He gets a leg hooked around Ivo and does some sort of bafflingly effective roll to get the Doctor under him. Surprise. The effect’s a bit ruined by Stone’s smile, open and bright, even as Ivo’s spitting like a wet cat.

Fucker.

And Stone? He’s trailing a wet finger across the bruise on Ivo’s cheek, suddenly serious. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry.

Hence the punishment, or couldn't you manage it? Don’t tell me you couldn’t keep from touching yourself for one day.

Not once, even though it was so. very. hard. Subtle. Real good pillow talk. (Shut up, you’re ruining it.) I was dreaming about you. Your hands on— on me.

Well, now. Isn’t that something. Oh, looks like the boss has an idea. On your knees, facing away. Oh fuck, it’s happening, isn’t it? The fucking bit? Nope. Not quite. It’s still pretty good though, so stick around. While Stone’s busy trying to get turned around and in position without kneeing himself in the face, Ivo’s already getting to his knees, planting himself firmly on the bed. That’s it. Lean back against me. Now this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to put your hand over mine, and you’re going to stroke your cock like that.

Oh, Stone isn’t going to last long like this at all. Ivo’s hand is warm and callused, proof that— as much as he likes the high-tech electronic side of things— he’s more than adept at getting his hands dirty. And Stone makes their hands into a fist around his cock, awkward at first until he figures out their rhythm. The saliva’s already drying up and it’s gonna be a wicked burn but that’s okay. Who needs skin when he’s got Ivo’s hand on him? He tightens their grip, moving faster. He’s so very close. Just a few more seconds—

Stop.

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Would you look at that: Stone manages to pull himself back from the edge, but it’s a near thing. As it is, he nearly breaks his own nose with how hard he flings their hands away. Doesn’t stop him from jerking his hips into empty air, the poor thing, or from hissing what the fuck.

Remember your place, my sweetly desperate sycophant. You want it? Ask me nicely. He’s teasing now, raking the nails of one hand over Stone’s chest, tugging at the hair, and the other returns to where Stone desperately needs him to be— but his touch is light, teasing, fingertips stroking up the underside of the shaft (God. I thought I might die right there). Well?

What’s the matter? Too proud to say please? Ivo tweaks a nipple, grinning into the side of Stone’s neck. Oh, this is a fun game. I could just leave you here, maybe come back in the morning and see how you’re holding up. Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep like this? I wonder. You know he’ll play dirty: he’ll order Stone not to touch, and Stone will doggedly obey. That’s the game. He shifts like he’s about to get up when Stone grabs his wrist.

Now, Stone can be stubborn as hell. Otherwise he’d never have made it in G.U.N., never risen to the illustrious rank of Robotnik’s Favorite. There’s a part of him that wants to hold out, to refuse to beg. But that part is pretty small, and is quickly smothered by the rest of him, all of which is so turned on, so needy, so—

Okay. I fold. Please.

Please what? Bastard. Dirty, low-down, vicious—

Look at Stone. His whole face is flushed; heat spreads down his throat to his chest. (I can still feel it.) Desperate, sweet boy. Ivo could get him to do absolutely anything, couldn’t he? (Jerk.) He wants it so badly, his whole body is on a hair trigger. His voice is soft, cracked. Please get me off. Touch me. I need it— need you.

That’s good. Just what I needed to hear. Ivo tightens his grip with a twist and a tug; he sinks his teeth into the junction of Stone’s neck and shoulder. It’s absolutely perfect, burning through him like fire. Now pay attention, if your addled brain has any processing power left. I’m going to get you off, and you’re going to keep your hands to yourself. Next time, I expect you to fuck me.

Have you ever cum so hard you couldn't see? Because Stone does. He can’t breathe, can't speak. All he can do is fall apart. Cum spurts over Ivo’s hand, but he doesn’t. stop. moving. Stone whines, trying to shrink away from the stimulation, but Ivo’s there to hold him steady. All he can do is take it. Fuck, ‘s too much. I can’t. I’m gonna, I’m, I—

Orgasm bites through him again, smaller and sharper: it’s pleasure with vicious teeth, and leaves him shivering. (Never felt anything like it before. It was— intense.) What about you? He can feel Ivo burning hard and hot at his back.

Ivo scoffs. It’s unimportant. I already got what I wanted— for now. Not ominous at all. Nope, he’s definitely not up to something. He slithers off the bed and saunters to the door. Sleep tight, Agent. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.

This is a story that contains one lie, or maybe it’s only half a lie. It all depends on your definition of the word fuck. (It’s definitely false advertising.) Okay, that’s it. Next time we’re revisiting that night in Oslo.

(Oh, dammit.)

#stobotnik #dr robotnik #ivo robotnik #agent stone #I like you a latte #apparently this is a multi chapter story now

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