"Really? You'll let me do anything I want?"
The Batter nodded, yawning, and Zacharie smirked beneath his frog mask. "I didn't realize you were so hard up for credits, my friend."
"So it's a deal?" asked the Batter with his usual bluntness.
Zacharie chuckled. "Of course. How could I say no to my favorite customer?"
He led the purifier through Zone 2's residential area; though the gathering night had left the back alleys nearly pitch black, the merchant navigated them with easy confidence. Soon they came upon a dilapidated old apartment complex, the pink of its steel exterior long since rusted away.
"This is one of my headquarters for any less, ah, officially sanctioned projects I might take on," Zacharie explained. "We won't be bothered. The Elsens never come here—too afraid of stepping on nails."
The Batter followed him up several flights of stairs. All was silent save for the clanking echoes of their footsteps. After a time Zacharie whipped out a tiny pink key and opened a door that looked as nondescript as all the rest, but the inside of the apartment was decked out with brand-new furniture. The Batter walked up for a closer look at the bong on the coffee table. "That's nothing," Zacharie said hastily, grabbing the purifier's arm and tugging him toward the bedroom.
The merchant's room was a disaster area, floor scattered with dirty laundry and old pizza boxes, bed unmade. To be fair, though, he'd hardly expected to be taking a hooker home tonight, much less the very man who prided himself on his supposed purity.
"Let's get this over with," said the Batter, unceremoniously dropping his pants.
"Whoa!" Zacharie's hands reflexively shot up to cover his eyes. Feeling silly, he let them fall back to his sides. "Guess you're not the bashful type, eh?"
The Batter just grunted in reply. Yawning again, he kicked off his cleats and lay back on the untidy bed, his lower half now completely bare. Zacharie gulped at the size of him, glad that the purifier was going to be the one on the receiving end. He didn't much care for the idea of spending the next week with a limp.
Rummaging through the top drawer of his nightstand, he said, "I assume this will be your first time? Taking it, I mean." The Batter gave an affirmative mumble. "Things might be a bit uncomfortable at first," Zacharie told him apologetically. "Luckily we have this." He fished out a bottle of lube and held it up for the Batter to see.
"Oh," said the purifier, sounding bored to tears.
Frankly his attitude rankled Zacharie. The guy could've at least acted interested in the fact that he was about to get laid for the first time in God knew how long.
The merchant hopped on the bed and squirted a big blob of lube into his palm. "It'll hurt less if you relax," he said as he warmed the clear goo between his fingers.
"Okay."
Rolling his eyes, Zacharie had the Batter lift his legs out of the way, exposing that shapely ass. The merchant sucked a quiet breath through his teeth. Thanks to the Batter's apathy he hadn't really been feeling it at first, but something about the purifier's instant, unquestioning obedience was making the blood rush to Zacharie's dick with amplified urgency. He shed his pants and underwear and was already painfully hard by the time he pressed the first slick finger into the Batter's tight ass.
After an initial grunt of discomfort, the man took Zacharie's handling without a sound. In any other situation his silence might have been unnerving. Now, though, it just made Zacharie more eager than ever to fuck him into submission, to make him beg, pure, primal animal need shattering his stoic outer shell.
Grinning smugly, he situated himself between the Batter's legs. "I trust you're ready?"
There was a silence that quickly turned awkward as it became clear the Batter hadn't heard him. He leaned in toward the other man. "I said, are you—"
He cut himself off as he realized with a flash of indignation that the purifier had fallen asleep.
"Seriously? Who does that?" he exclaimed. "C'mon, rise and shine, buddy!"
He shook the Batter's shoulders and was relieved when his eyes fluttered open, but he just muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Barns?" and conked out again.
Oh, for the love of—what am I supposed to do now?!
Fuck him anyway.
The thought took him by surprise. Somehow sticking his dick in a sleeping person didn't seem entirely ethical. Then again, the Batter had said he could do anything he wanted. …
Zacharie pressed his damp cockhead to the Batter's slippery asshole, not pushing inside just yet. He glanced at the other man's face, checking for any change in his expression. Nada.
Irritation finally overcoming him, the merchant shoved himself in balls-deep, his hips meeting the purifier's firm backside with an obscene slap. Not bothering to give the Batter time to adjust when he clearly didn't care one way or the other in the first place, Zacharie began fucking him roughly into the mattress. The bedsprings creaked a noisy complaint with each buck of the merchant's hips.
"Fuck, you're tight," Zacharie growled through clenched teeth as he plowed the Batter's ass with all his resentment-fueled might. Panting hard from the exertion, he added silently, Not for much longer.
As he felt himself blaze ever closer to his strongest climax in ages, he glanced up at the Batter's face and was struck with inspiration. He pulled out of the sleeping purifier's asshole with a wet squish and climbed over him until he was straddling his chest.
I'll teach you to fall asleep on me, he thought.
The merchant jerked his aching erection once, twice, and with a triumphant groan came messily onto the Batter's face. String after string of Zacharie's semen slapped the purifier's cheeks, his chin, his hair; it dripped in viscous, sticky strands from the brim of his baseball cap.
Zacharie looked over his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. Ah, but it seemed he'd missed a spot while marking his territory. He dragged his cockhead over the Batter's full lips, painting them with the last of his spunk. Much better.
"Always a pleasure working with you, my friend," he murmured mockingly, scooting over to grab a scrap of paper and a pen from the nightstand. He scribbled "I.O.U." on the paper and stuck it in the Batter's shirt pocket. Then, figuring it couldn't hurt to leave the other man here overnight, he dressed himself and left, locking the door behind him. He didn't think it the wisest course of action to be present when the purifier woke up to find himself covered in jizz.