Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Itrapped... Dear... Please...? I need it... I need it so badly," Chance pleaded, feeling like he was gonna die at the thought of not being able to cum.

Itrapped remained silent, but his expression said it all.

Chance was stroking their shaft as hard as they could while trying not to orgasm (Much to Itrapped's request)

Itrapped finally broke his silence and said something "I will say it once and not repeat myself. What do good boys receive for being patient?" Itrapped asked

“Mngh... They get to finish...” Chance replied, their tone shaky and nervous.

"C'mon, you can do it. Stroke that big shaft for 30 more seconds, you can finish. I can count down for you if you want."

"R-Really... Holy shit... Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

As Itrapped counted down, Chance felt his orgasm approaching. He was sweating and his brow furrowed. But Itrapped seemed to pay no mind.

"There's just 10 seconds left. You can do it."

"Nine"

"Eight"

"Seven"

"Six"

"Five"

"Four"

"Three-"

Chance didn't let him finish. They had already come all over the bed, staining the expensive pearly white sheets.

"Oh."

"That's gonna be a mess to clean up"

Chapter Text

“He’s becoming a problem,” Itrapped said, crossing his legs. “The debts are one thing. But the attention he’s drawing is sloppy.”

Mafioso didn’t look up from the big book he was reading. He was huge, his suit tight on his shoulders. He seemed bigger than the room itself.

“Sloppy,” Mafioso repeated in a deep voice. He turned a page slowly. “My men say he was gambling at The Lady Luck's last night. Won big. Again.”

Itrapped smiled sharply. “Seventy-five thousand. Then he bought champagne for everyone. He’s not trying to pay you back, Maf. He’s just feeding his addiction. He’s laughing at you.”

Finally Mafioso looked up. His eyes were dark, cold, and heavy. Most people would be scared. Itrapped just felt excited.

“And you?” Mafioso asked. “What are you to him? His friend? Lover? Accountant?”

“More than a friend,” Itrapped said. “I know his habits, his schedules, his passwords. The money he’s wasting could be… moved. With a little help.”

Mafioso leaned back. “Moved. To you.”

“A fee. A reward. Call it what you want. You get your money back plus more. I get a fresh start. We both lose a problem.”

Itrapped leaned closer, “No more Chance making scenes at your places. No more calls from worried investors. Just a clean, quiet solution. And a lot of cash.”

Mafioso studied Itrapped like he was a new piece of art, checking for flaws. “You’re very eager to betray him,” Mafioso said.

“He’s not my patron. He’s my mark,” Itrapped smiled. “I’m practical. I go where the power is.”

“A little greedy, maybe,”

“The winner draws the line,” Itrapped teased. “This business runs on strength and opportunity. I’m giving you both. Or are you going to sit here counting numbers while some spoiled kid spits on your name?”

The insult hung in the air. Itrapped’s heart pounded. This was his gamble.

Mafioso slowly closed the book with a soft thud. “You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said in a quieter voice.

“I just tell the truth,” Itrapped tried to act cool, though he messed up for a second.

“I handle disrespect,” He interrupted. He stood, and the room felt quieter. He walked around the desk slowly, his steps silent. “And I handle brats.”

Itrapped’s pulse jumped. “Is that what I am?” he asked.

Mafioso stopped in front of him. “You come into my office, tell me how to run my business, insult me, and try to play me with pretty words,” he said. He reached out and touched Itrapped’s lip with his thumb, not gently but like he was testing him. “You’re the brattiest little thing I’ve seen in a while.”

“Maybe you need a little brat in your life,” Itrapped said, his attitude slipping into something more nervous but excited.

“What I need,” Mafioso said softly, eyes locked on him, “is to teach you who really has the power here.”

Mafioso grabbed him and kissed him hard, a kiss that felt like a warning. Itrapped gasped, surprised but not pulling away.

Mafioso pulled back. “Stand up,” he ordered.

Itrapped stood, his legs shaky. Mafioso turned him to face the desk, pressing him down by the back.

“You think you’re clever,” He growled in his ear. “You think you can play games with me.”

“I’m not playing,” Itrapped said, breathless.

“Yes, you are,” Mafioso said, giving him a sharp slap. Itrapped gasped in shock, the sound echoing in the room.

“That’s for your disrespect,” Another slap followed, harder.

“And that’s for thinking you could manipulate me.”
---
FFUFUUFUDUDUDUFUUF I COULDN'T FINISH IT MB GANG

Chapter Text

The restaurant was called Mang Inasal. It was the kind of place with the scent of barbecue, bright green walls, and families sharing big meals together. Jun thought it was nice. Nathan thought it was a place you had to be on your best behavior. P3-NG scanned the room and calculated the average cost per plate, deeming it “an inefficient use of currency for caloric intake.”

They sat at abooty. Jun smiled, looking comfortable. Nathan sat up straight, his eyes flicking around the room like he was checking for threats. And, P3-NG sat perfectly still.

“This is nice,” Jun said, breaking the silence.

“This dining set is poor for private conversation,” P3-NG stated. “There is ahigh chance the couple at the next table can hear our conversation.”

Nathan sighed. “Just try to relax, P3-NG. It’s a date. Not a mission.”

“The definition of a ‘date’ is vague,” the android replied. “Is the objective social bonding or consumption of nutrients?”

Jun laughed. “A little bit of both. Mostly the bonding part.”

They ordered food. Jun tried to make conversation. Nathan answered, but he was still tense. P3-NG watched them, his head tilted. He was learning. He saw the way Jun’s hand almost touched Nathan’s, and how Nathan pulled his hand back to adjust his napkin. Human courtship rituals were weird. Full of subtle signs he couldn’t quite decode.

Halfway through a plate of grilled chicken, Nathan stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.” He needed a moment away from the pressure.

Jun watched him go. After a minute, he looked at P3-NG. “I’ll be right back. Don’t… calculate the bill yet.” He followed Nathan.

P3-NG was alone. He processed the event. Two subjects leaving the table sequentially. A common prelude to private interaction. His internal systems flagged a high probability of physical intimacy. Curiosity, a routine he was still learning to manage, he overrode his command to remain seated. He stood and walked smoothly toward the bathroom.

The bathroom was all fancy marble and shiny sinks. Nathan was splashing water on his face. He looked up in the mirror and saw Jun come in.

“You okay?” Jun asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. Just… a lot,” Nathan said, drying his face with a towel.

Jun came up behind him and put his hands on Nathan’s shoulders. Nathan leaned back into the touch. He was always protecting everyone else. But... It felt good when someone strong was there for him.

Jun turned Nathan around. He didn’t say anything. He just looked into Nathan’s eyes for a second and then kissed him. It started soft but quickly got deeper. Nathan kissed him back, his hands grabbing Jun’s arms.

The bathroom door creaked open. They broke apart. P3-NG stood there, looking at them. “My apologies. I observed your departure and calculated a 89% chance of-“

“It’s fine, P3-NG,” Jun said, his voice a little rough. He didn’t let go of Nathan. “We were just… talking.”

“Your breathing and pupil dilation suggest a different primary activity,” P3-NG said. He took a step inside, and the door locked shut behind him, leaving them in room. “I am… curious.”

Nathan looked from Jun to the android. A pang of nervousness went through him, mixed with something else. Something he usually tried to ignore.

Jun saw the look. He was protective, but he was also caring. He understood Nathan’s conflicts. He also saw the way P3-NG was watching, not with judgment, but with a need to understand. To connect.

“Do you want to watch?” Jun asked the android, his voice low.

P3-NG processed the question. “Observation is a method of learning.”

“Okay then,” Jun said. He turned back to Nathan and kissed him again, harder this time. His hands went to Nathan’s belt.

Nathan gasped into the kiss. His bodyguard instincts told him to assess the environment. One exit, locked. One unknown... thing? P3-NG. But his body was overriding his training. He wanted this. He needed to stop thinking for a while.

Jun undid Nathan’s pants and slid them down, along with his underwear. He turned Nathan around to face the large mirror over the sinks. Nathan braced his hands on the marble counter, his reflection in the glass. Jun pressed against his back.

P3-NG watched, unblinking. He recorded the data. Increased heart rates. Flushed skin. The mood of adrenaline and arousal. He saw Jun spit into his hand and slick himself up. He saw Nathan’s face in the mirror, eyes closed, mouth open.

Jun pushed inside Nathan. Nathan let out a sharp grunt, his knees buckling slightly. Jun held his hips tight, keeping him steady.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Jun whispered, his own eyes shut tight for a second as he started to move.

Nathan took it, his head hanging down. The feeling was a lot. It was a good hurt. It pushed all the guilty, worried thoughts out of his head. There was only this feeling. Jun’s strength holding him up. Jun’s body moving against his.

P3-NG took a step closer. His mind tried to understand the purpose. Reproduction was not the goal. This was about pleasure. About connection. He saw the way Nathan’s body moved with Jun’s. The rhythm. He calculated the angle and force of Jun’s thrusts.

Jun opened his eyes and saw P3-NG in the mirror, watching them. A new idea came to him. He was empathetic. He knew P3-NG felt separate. An observer. He wanted to include him.

“P3-NG,” Jun breathed, his thrusts never stopping. “Come here.”

The android obeyed, moving to stand beside them, his face a mask of calm curiosity.

“Touch him,” Jun said.

Nathan’s eyes flew open in the mirror. He looked at P3-NG. The android looked back.

P3-NG’s hand came up. It was perfectly steady. He touched Nathan’s cheek first. The skin was warm. He traced a line down Nathan’s neck, over his shoulder, down his arm. His touch was cool and precise. It was nothing like Jun’s warm, rough hands.

Then P3-NG’s hand moved to Nathan’s stomach, feeling the muscles clench with every thrust from Jun. He moved lower.

Nathan shuddered when P3-NG’ fingers wrapped around him. The contrast was incredible. Jun’sheat behind him, and P3-NG’s cool, mechanical precision in front. He moaned. He actually moaned

P3-NG observed the direct physical response to his touch. “Wow.”

Jun kept fucking Nathan, his pace getting faster, harder. The room was filled with their sounds. Skin against skin, heavy breathing, Nathan’s choked moans.

P3-NG continued to stroke Nathan, his motion efficient and perfect. He watched Nathan’s face contort in pleasure. He was causing that. The logic was clear, action A (touch) creates response B (pleasure). But there was something else. A flicker in his own programming. A desire to not just observe, but to participate. To feel.

He leaned forward. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t in his initial programming. He pressed his lips to Nathan’s shoulder. It was a clumsy imitation of a human kiss.

Nathan jolted at the feel of the android’s lips. They were soft, but unyielding. It was strange and incredibly hot.

Jun saw it all in the mirror. He saw the conflict and the need on Nathan’s face. He saw the strange, almost tender way P3-NG was interacting. He felt Nathan’s body getting tighter around him. He knew Nathan was close.

“Kneel,” Jun said to P3-NG. His voice left no room for argument.

P3-NG immediately complied, sinking to his knees on the tile floor. He looked up at them. From this angle, he had a perfect view.

Jun changed his angle, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Nathan cried out.

“Now, P3-NG,” Jun commanded. “Learn.”

P3-NG understood. His objective was clear. He leaned forward. He opened his mouth. His tongue was soft, but he controlled it with accuracy. He took Nathan into his mouth.

The feeling was too much for Nathan. The warm, wet suction, the impossible precision of the android’s tongue, combined with Jun pounding into him from behind. He came with a shout, his whole body shaking.

P3-NG’s eyes widened slightly. He tasted salt. He felt the pulsing rhythm. He registered the event and stored it. But he also felt a strange warmth in his own circuits. A satisfaction that had nothing to do with completing a task.

Jun felt Nathan clench around him and that was all it took. He groaned, burying himself deep as he came inside.

For a minute, the only sound was heavy breathing. Nathan was slumped over the counter, supported by Jun. Jun had his forehead pressed between Nathan’s shoulder blades. P3-NG remained on his knees, processing.

Slowly, Jun pulled out. He helped Nathan stand up straight. Nathan’s legs were wobbly. He turned around, leaning against the counter. He looked down at P3-NG, who was still on his knees, looking back up at him. There was a tiny drop of white on the android’s perfect lip.

Nathan reached down without thinking and wiped it away with his thumb. The gesture was gentle. Protective.

P3-NG caught his wrist. His grip was firm but not painful. He looked at Nathan’s thumb, then up at his face. “Why did you do that?”

“I… don’t know,” Nathan said honestly. “It just seemed like the thing to do.”

P3-NG was silent. He ran an analysis. The action was inefficient. It served no practical cleaning purpose, as his own systems were sterile.

Jun was pulling his own clothes back together. He smiled, a tired, happy smile. He put a hand on P3-NG’s shoulder. “You did good.”

P3-NG stood up. He looked at Jun, then at Nathan. “The experience was… educational.”

Nathan finally laughed, a real, unguarded sound. “Yeah. I bet it was.”

They cleaned up in silence. They straightened their clothes and splashed water on their faces. They looked almost normal again. Nobody spoke.

As they walked out of the bathroom, back into the quiet restaurant, Nathan fell into step beside P3-NG. His hand brushed against the android’s. It was an accident.

Chapter Text

Chance was in a closet. It was not his closet. It was Mafioso’s closet. And he was not hiding. Well, he was hiding a little. But mostly, he was watching.

Through the slats in the door, he had a (mostly) perfect view of the bedroom. Mafioso was there. So was ITrapped. They were on the big, fancy bed. They were not playing cards though.

Chance liked to watch. It was a thrill. A risk. The stakes were very, very high. If Mafioso caught him, it would not be good. Very, very bad. But that was what made it fun.

He watched them move. He heard them moan. He saw ITrapped’s back arch multiple times. Chance held his breath. This was better than a high-stakes poker game.

Then, it happened.

ITrapped’s head turned. His eyes looked directly at the closet door. He had a smirk on his face. He had seen the gold of Chance’s eye through the slats.

Chance froze. This was it. He was so done.

But ITrapped didn’t yell. He didn’t point. He just looked right at Chance. And he winked.

Then ITrapped turned back to Mafioso. He wrapped his legs around the older man’s waist. He let out a loud, dramatic moan.

“Oh, Maf...!” ITrapped cried out. “Yes... Just like that!”

Mafioso just grunted.

ITrapped kept going. His voice was a purr. “It feels so good when you… Take charge. When you’re in control. Don’t stop.”

His eyes flicked back to the closet. He was putting on a show just for Chance

Chance felt his face get red. He was caught. And ITrapped was teasing him. He should leave. But his feet were glued to the floor. He couldn’t look away.

Finally, it was over. Mafioso rolled off with a tired sigh. He lit a cigar. The room was filled with smoke and silence.

“I’m getting a drink,” Mafioso said. His low. He stood up and walked out of the room. Didn’t even glance at the closet.

The bedroom door clicked shut. Chance was alone with ITrapped.

ITrapped sat up on the bed. The sheets were around his waist. He looked right at the closet door.

“You can come out now,” he said. His voice was sweet but fake. “The show’s over. Unless you want a backstage performance?”

The closet door creaked open. Chance stepped out. He tried to act cool. He fixed his suit. He leaned against the doorframe.

“The door was open,” Chance said. He gave a shrug. “I was just… looking for a new tie.”

ITrapped laughed. It was a mean, happy laugh. “Right. A tie. In my boyfriend’s bedroom closet. While we were busy.” He shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar, Chance.”

Chance didn’t say anything. He just shoved his hands in his pockets.

ITrapped stood up. He wrapped a silk robe around himself. He walked right up to Chance.

“You know,” ITrapped said, tapping his chin. “This isn’t the first time, is it? I thought I smelled your cheap cologne last week.”

“It’s not cheap. I got it on the Facebook marketplace for 100$."

“I don't give a fuck, it's cheap and bad,” ITrapped said. He smiled wider. “You’re a weird, Chance. A peeping Tom. A little pervert with too much time and too much luck.”

“I am not a pervert,” Chance mumbled. He looked at the floor. It was very interesting.

“What do you call it then?” ITrapped asked. He leaned closer. “You get a thrill from it. Watching. Hiding. Risking it all. It’s just another game for you, isn’t it?”

Chance didn’t answer. Because ITrapped was right. It was a game. And he had lost.

“I should tell Mafioso,” he whispered. “I should tell him his little friend likes to hide in the closet and watch.”

Panic shot through Chance. “Hey, hey, don’t.”

“Or what?” ITrapped stopped in front of him. “You’ll run away again? You’re good at that.”

...

“What do you want?” Chance asked. His voice was quiet.

ITrapped’s eyes lit up. He loved this part. “I want you to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Say it,” ITrapped said. It was a command. “Say ‘I, Chance, hid in the closet and watched you two have sex because I’m a pervert.’ Go on.”

Chance sighed. He was beaten. The house always wins. And ITrapped was the house.

“I, Chance,” he said, staring at his feet, “hid in the closet and watched you two… You know… because I’m a pervert.”

ITrapped clapped his hands together. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” He walked back to the bed and sat down. “You can go now.”

Chance didn’t move. “You’re not going to tell him?”

“Not today,” ITrapped said. He checked his nails. “I’m saving it. For a rainy day. When I need a favor. Or when I just feel like seeing you squirm.”

It was a threat... But, Chance’s luck was still holding. For now.

He turned to leave. His hand was on the doorknob.

“Hey, Chance?” ITrapped called out.

Chance stopped. He didn’t look back.

“Next time,” ITrapped said, his voice full of fake sweetness, “at least bring popcorn. It’s more fun that way.”

Chance felt like he wanted to say something "By the way, my cologne was not cheap."

Then, He just walked out. He shut the door behind him. He stood in the hallway for a second. He took a deep breath.

That had been too close. The risk had been huge. The consequences would have been terrible.

He smiled to himself. It was the best game he’d played in weeks.