Title: After Hours
Warnings: Might be interpreted as slightly dub-conish? Slight masochism?
Prompts: Humiliation, spanking, revenge, claws
“Burgerpants darling~! Hold still, will you? The sight of your cute little tush is all I need~”
Burgerpants hated this. He hated each and every second of this. That's why he nodded so enthusiastically when Mettaton invited him to his office after his shift ended. That's why he's on his brazen hands and knees sticking his butt in the air wearing a Hello Kitty thong with tiny pink bows. That's why his tyrannical and sexy—did he say sexy? He meant scary—boss is smacking him with a pixelated MTT-brand paddle (of course it's MTT-brand, it all is). It's taking all his power not to sob, but his ability to grieve was lost the moment he set foot in the Burger Emporium. Dignity, like his soul, shattered and re-fused so many times that he lost count. His smile stretches like rubber as the bright idea to wiggle his cheeks penetrates his mind like taking a breath. Mettaton giggles, and Burgerpants' face is as red as his ass must be.
Just... fuck it, buddy. What did little ol' me do to deserve this?
“Burgerpants, pay attention!” Smack!
Oh that DOES it. The cat employee turns on his boss with a feral snarl, leaping at his face with his teeth bared. His claws tear into the robot's hair and yanks his head up, forcing him to look at him, look at him. He pins Mettaton's lips with his own, and his stomach twists in pride at the shocked whimper that escapes his boss's voice box. The way he moans while he shreds his claws through metallic flesh. The way he kisses him back just as hard, robotic tongue dancing like he does in all his shows with his employee's rough sandpaper one. The way the paddle clatters on the floor before Mettaton coils his arms around him like a silver cocoon, sliding his fingers beneath the embarrassing underwear and fondling him. Burgerpants is seated against the robot's crotch, shuddering while he felt the bulge grow beneath the black latex. His resolve crumbles as he grinds against his boss, choked groans escaping his throat as those gloved fingers continued to tease him. The thong rolls off his thighs, and Burgerpants tears off the robot's pants. It's ridiculous—everything about MTT has to glitter, even his damn penis—but it doesn't stop him from climbing on top of him and fucking himself as hard as he can. Strangled cries and tight breathing exchanged between boss and employee with every rapid-fire thrust, and before he knew it, it was already over.
Heaving and barely able to move, Burgerpants limped against Mettaton while he untangled his arms from around him. The cat employee tensed and his fur stood on end, but he instantly relaxed when he recognized the cool gel his boss spread on the heated red flesh around his swishing tail and on his cheeks. Oh... right. He was sore from that, wasn't he?
“I'll see you tomorrow morning, darling.” Mettaton smiled. “Don't be late~”