Chapter Text
Pain sliced through Robby’s skull as he blinked back to consciousness. For a moment there was only confusion as to what had happened but it all came rushing back to him as he sat up gingerly, clutching the wound on his forehead. His dad showing up at the dojo. The fight between him and Sensei Kreese. And then his own wild, anger-fueled attack on his dad.
His dad had said he wouldn’t fight him, but somehow he’d still ended up being slammed face first into the lockers.
I’m going to be feeling this for a while, he thought ruefully, fresh pain throbbing through his head with every movement.
But... what had happened while he was out? Where were Kreese and his dad?
He caught sight of the shattered window as he climbed to his feet, and the sound of voices outside finally registered. He stumbled forward and was surprised to find not just Kreese and his dad but also Mr. LaRusso, Sam, and Miguel. Apparently he’d missed a lot.
“Robby,” his dad said when he saw him, sounding broken. Robby could barely look at him, knowing he’d be staring at him with that familiar wounded expression, like he was the injured party. As if Robby wasn’t the one standing there with a head injury. As if Robby didn’t have sixteen years worth of reasons to be angry with him.
Something in his chest clenched when Mr. LaRusso looked at him with what could only be described as a heartbroken expression, but it felt distant, muted by the still present sting of feeling betrayed, of feeling abandoned. Maybe Mr. LaRusso did feel bad about how things had gone down with his arrest, maybe he had meant it for the best, but Robby knew that it would only be a matter of time until he turned on him again.
“Get out! Now! And don’t come back. Not to this house, not to the dealership, not ever!”
“Don’t even start! I gave you a second chance! This whole thing was a… was a mistake!”
Robby couldn’t trust him, not again.
As for Miguel and Sam and what they might have thought of him having obviously joined Cobra Kai, he couldn’t have cared less.
“Get out of here,” he said venomously. “All of you.”
Somehow, even after everything, part of him thought that they’d argue. Put up a fight. Plead with him to change his mind. Beg him to come with them.
But they didn’t. Stiff and grim-faced, they just watched silently as Kreese put a heavy hand on his shoulder and called him ‘son’, as he led him back inside the dojo, away from them and the kids they actually gave more than a passing care about, the ones they didn’t give up on the moment it was inconvenient.
Like now, apparently.
It shouldn’t have made him feel gutted. He should have known better. But apparently he was still pathetically stupid.
Maybe something of it showed on his face. Maybe Kreese’s instincts were just that sharp, and he scented the blood in the air.
“I’m sure Johnny and LaRusso have both told you tales of what a monster I am,” he said almost conversationally as he steered Robby towards the office with the hand still clamped on his shoulder. He pushed Robby down into the chair behind the desk and then retrieved the first aid kit. He dabbed at the wound with an antiseptic wipe for a moment and then got an ice pack from the little fridge, putting it in Robby’s hand and then lifting his hand up to press it against his forehead, as if Robby wouldn’t have known what to do with it.
“Yeah,” he finally managed to say, not sure if a response was expected. He knew his dad and Mr. LaRusso both hated Sensei Kreese. To hear Mr. LaRusso tell it, he was the devil himself.
“Not that long ago, Johnny threatened to kill me if I ever even went near the Diaz kid,” Kreese continued, chuckling a little. “I could see he meant it, too. All that self-righteous anger puffing him up.”
Robby couldn’t help but twitch a little at that. His dad, who’d never been there for him, who’d failed him and hurt him over and over and over, who’d let terrible things happen to him, furiously protective over someone else. Kreese noticed his reaction, of course, looking at him almost sympathetically.
“That’s why he came here tonight, you know. His precious Miguel got hurt,” he said.
Robby nodded numbly. Yes, that was why he’d come. That was why he’d fought Kreese. Not for him. For Miguel. He hadn’t even known Robby was here until he’d shown up.
“Do you think if Miguel wanted to return to Cobra Kai, to be my student, that Johnny would accept that? That he’d just walk away?” Kreese said, his voice softer than Robby would have thought him capable of. “And LaRusso? If it had been his daughter?”
Robby’s grip on the ice pack tightened, the pressure sending more waves of agony through his skull. He knew what Kreese was doing, knew he wanted to manipulate him, use him as some pawn in his fucked up war with his dad and Mr. LaRusso.
It didn’t make what he was saying any less true.
There was no way that his dad would have walked away and left Miguel with Kreese.
There was no way that Mr. LaRusso would have walked away and left Sam with Kreese.
And yes, he’d told them to go, but there was nothing Miguel or Sam could have said that would have made a difference, that would have prompted them to actually do it.
The ever-present aching chasm in his chest, the one that felt like it’d been there for most of his life, seemed to crack open even wider.
Kreese didn’t need him to answer. After giving him a moment to let his point sink in, he walked away without another word.
Robby wasn’t sure how long he sat there as the ice pack slowly melted, numbing both his forehead and the hand that held it. He was vaguely aware of Kreese moving around, of him speaking on the phone briefly to someone about the broken window, of him disappearing into the small bathroom for a while, presumably cleaning up his own injuries. But eventually Kreese’s attention returned to him as he took the ice pack from Robby’s numb hand and inspected his forehead critically.
“It won’t look pretty for a while, that’s for sure, but it doesn’t need stitches. You’ll be fine,” he declared. “Get changed, we’re going home.”
Robby blinked at him, registering that he’d already changed from his gi into his street clothes.
“Home?” he asked dully. He’d been sleeping on the dojo floor for the past couple of nights. He had no other ‘home’.
“Yes, you’re coming home with me,” Kreese said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Robby stared up at him. Even standing Kreese would have had a few inches on him but with him still sitting in the chair the man seemed to absolutely tower over him. There was a... a glint in his eye that sent an all-too familiar ripple of unease down Robby’s spine, and he stared implacably back at Robby as if daring him to argue.
Robby didn’t.
Another night on the dojo floor did not seem in the least bit appealing, and he had nowhere else to go. Nowhere that he was really wanted, anyway.
And some part of him had half-expected this, he realized. Nothing came without a price.
Swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat, he gave a wordless nod of agreement, and Kreese smiled.
Kreese’s home was a small apartment above a corner liquor store, only a couple of blocks away. It almost looked more like a hotel room, with a minimum of furniture and few personal effects in sight.
“You’ll have to forgive the spartan accommodations,” Kreese said, as if reading his mind. “I only just moved in.”
Robby nodded, moving towards the couch where he assumed he’d be sleeping to set down his duffel, but Kreese stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Bedroom’s that way,” he said, nodding towards the hallway. Robby blinked, but changed course obediently. Surely such a small place didn’t have two bedrooms....
It didn’t.
He paused in the doorway of the lone bedroom, eyeing the double bed that occupied most of the room.
Kreese had apparently followed right on his heels, his hand falling heavy and inexorable on Robby’s shoulder.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Keene?” he asked mildly.
“No, Sensei Kreese,” Robby replied, stepping into the room and depositing his bag on the floor near the bed.
He knew what was expected of him. He didn’t know why he’d thought Kreese would be more... circumspect about it. That he would have been more subtle, taken more time. Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy. It was his whole way of life. Circumspect wasn’t in the man’s wheelhouse.
"That's good," Kreese replied. "I knew you'd understand the situation. You have that… look about you."
Robby's spine stiffened and he practically had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding to know exactly what he meant by ‘that look’. Did he mean he looked like someone who liked taking it up the ass? Because he was ‘pretty’? A lot of men liked to call him pretty, including a lot of the guys his mom had brought home. Sometimes they had just been mocking him, and sometimes it had been said with a lecherous smirk that told him to expect a visit after his mom passed out for the night.
Or, as Robby feared deep down in the darkest part of himself, did he mean he looked… damaged? Used? Dirty?
Whatever it was, apparently Kreese had looked at Robby and seen someone who would know that he'd be expected to spread his legs for him. Someone who would do it and keep quiet about it. Someone who would know their place.
Somehow, they always knew.
Well, apparently they can tell just by looking at you, a voice whispered in his mind. They can tell that it doesn’t matter what they do to you because you’re already damaged goods.
Robby didn’t know what expression might have passed over his face but it made Kreese chuckle as he started peeling off his clothes. Robby followed suit, a sense of cold numbness starting to settle over him. When they were both naked Kreese stepped in front of him, his hand coming up to grip the back of Robby’s neck possessively. Robby’s gaze rose to meet his, some unnameable emotion twisting in his stomach.
“Your father, LaRusso... they never appreciated you. They might say they want you around when it’s convenient, but they’re not willing to fight for you, not when it matters. They’ve proven that time and time again, haven’t they? But when you’re Cobra Kai, you’re Cobra Kai for life, whether Johnny wants to admit that right now or not. Which makes you a legacy. Which makes you mine, Robby, because Cobra Kai is mine. And unlike Johnny or LaRusso, I take care of what’s mine. I appreciate it. You understand what that means. I want you. I see you. You don’t ever have to worry about being abandoned again, because I’ll never let you go.”
“Did you… did you ever do… this with…?” Robby found himself trying to ask, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. The thought was too… unsettling.
“With your dad?” Kreese finished for him. “No. He wouldn’t have understood what it means the way you do. He was never very… worldly. Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I should have made him understand. Who knows how differently things could have turned out? But you’re a sharp one, son. Much smarter than he ever was. It’s part of what makes you so special.”
Kreese used the grip on the back of his neck to turn him and push him towards the bed. For one crazy moment Robby wondered what Kreese would do if he resisted, if he fought back… but he didn’t have to wonder. He knew.
This was going to happen. One way or the other.
For all that most people liked to think that they were more evolved, at their core they were really still just animals, driven by instincts. And some men just felt the need to assert their dominance in the most primal, animal way possible. Kreese was that kind of man.
Robby’s life had been full of them.
So he let himself be pushed forward and climbed willingly onto the bed, lying face down, legs spread, ignoring the hollow feeling inside him. There was no point in fighting the inevitable. What would he have been fighting for, anyway? To protect his ‘virtue’? That was long gone. And Kreese wasn’t like most of the others, who’d taken and given nothing in return. Who’d just been after momentary physical gratification, or who’d just wanted to hurt him or exert power over him to prove they were stronger. Kreese was giving him a place to belong. Had said he’d take care of him. And the possessive glint in his eye when he’d said it made it more convincing than all of his dad and Mr. LaRusso’s tired assurances combined.
Was giving the man what he wanted really such a high price to pay?
He heard Kreese open the drawer in the night stand and then the familiar pop of a tube of lube being opened. He jumped a little when a hand suddenly gripped his ass but quickly stilled when it squeezed in warning. Then a cold, lubed finger started firmly prodding around his asshole.
Straight to business, then. It didn’t surprise him that Kreese would feel no need for pretense, for kissing or for gentle caresses. That wasn’t what this was about and they both knew it.
Robby grit his teeth as Kreese went about thoroughly stretching him. He wasn’t unduly rough, but he wasn’t gentle, either, moving methodically from one finger to two, then three, and it ached. He’d experienced worse, though. He could take it.
When Kreese was apparently satisfied he climbed up on the bed, kneeling between Robby’s legs. A moment later Robby felt the blunt tip of his cock prodding at his asshole and did his best to relax and allow him entrance. Kreese pushed forward, slowly but inexorably, and Robby couldn’t help but groan, his fists clenching in the sheets. Kreese was big. It hurt.
Kreese made small, shallow thrusts, slowly working his cock in until he was finally fully seated inside, his hips flush against Robby’s ass. Though he’d braced himself on his hands so that he wouldn’t crush him, his weight draped over Robby’s back still felt… all encompassing. All consuming, like he might swallow Robby up whole. The inescapable feeling of his cock speared inside him made Robby feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. Kreese paused for a moment, letting him adjust, but not for long, and then he gave a slight thrust, stronger than the ones before. Robby grimaced at the feeling, pressing his face more firmly into the pillow. The renewed ache from his head wound was a welcome distraction from the ache between his legs.
Kreese slowly built up a rhythm until he was thrusting into Robby like a piston, seeming to shove the air from his lungs with every forward stroke. Robby couldn’t manage to keep completely silent, the weight rocking into him forcing out grunts and whimpers that he muffled as best he could against the pillow. A few involuntary tears leaked from his eyes as the relentless thrusts seemed to hammer pain further and further up his spine.
Breathe, just breathe. This is nothing. You can take it.
He repeated the words over and over in his head like a mantra, and they seemed to carry him along in a sense of numb detachment. The pain and discomfort in his body were still there, but he told himself that they didn’t matter.
That’s right. This is nothing. You’ve been through so much worse before. This is nothing.
The entire world seemed to narrow down to the feeling of the cock moving inside him, to the heavy pants and grunts of exertion in his ear, to his fingers clenching the sheets so tightly they were going numb, to the harsh sound of his own laboured gasps of breath and the hurt animal noises that were escaping him. At long last Kreese finally stilled, shoving himself as deeply inside Robby as he could manage as he came with a long, satisfied groan. Robby grimaced at the sensation. The man hadn’t worn a condom.
Kreese’s weight crushed him down into the mattress as the man half-collapsed over him, panting from exertion. Robby could barely breathe with the bulk of the man resting on him but thankfully Kreese didn’t remain there long, rolling over to lie beside him after just a few moments. The feeling of Kreese’s softening dick pulling free from his body made Robby grunt again. His whole body felt sore… felt used, and he was suddenly overcome by a sense of bone-weary tiredness.
“You did well, son,” Kreese said, and damn it if Robby didn’t feel a bloom of warmth in his chest at the words, chasing away a bit of the numb coldness.
You’re pleased that he’s complimenting you on how well you took his cock. How pathetic can you get?
Self-loathing roiled in his stomach, battling against the momentary comfort of the praise.
“I know that wasn’t particularly enjoyable for you,” Kreese went on. “And honestly, I can’t promise that it ever will be. But you’ll get used to it. You’re not just strong, you’re a survivor. I know that I wasn’t the first one in there, after all.” With that Kreese clapped a hand on Robby’s ass and gave it a squeeze. Robby flinched a little, both at the words and at the crude act. “That made it all the more urgent for me to solidify my claim, to make it a new beginning. Because I bet those others only took and never gave anything in return. But there’s meaning in being mine, son. It means you’re not alone anymore.”
Robby swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat. Kreese’s words echoed some of his own earlier thoughts. The ache in his body, the hollow feeling inside of him, the shame that kept needling at the back of his mind… they were worth it, to not feel alone anymore. To feel like he was really wanted.
“Thank you, Sensei,” he said, his voice thick, and though he wasn’t looking he could practically feel Kreese smile.
------
Sam watched in disbelief as Kreese led Robby back inside the Cobra Kai dojo, a possessive hand on his shoulder. She couldn’t believe that Robby had gone to him. Had seeing her with Miguel angered him that much?
But, no…. She quickly realized that it was stupid to think that it was only about her, though she absolutely could have handled that situation better. He had a right to feel hurt. But there had to be a lot more to it, to drive him to someone like Kreese. What he’d said at Miyagi-Do about what he’d been going through in juvie, the anger he’d always had at his father, how betrayed he felt by her father… he was dealing with so much. He had to be really confused and hurting. And her father had said that Kreese preyed on the vulnerable.
Which was why she couldn’t believe that both Robby’s father and her own just watched them disappear inside the dojo, too, without a word of protest, though they both looked shattered, and not just from their injuries. After a few moments passed in heavy silence, Robby’s father reached out and gripped Miguel’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said roughly. “I bet your mom’s not pleased you took off again in your condition.”
“Wait,” Sam demanded. “We’re really just going to leave Robby here? With him?”
“He won’t listen to us,” Robby’s father said wearily. “I already tried.”
“So that’s it?” Sam asked, staring at him incredulously. “But you’re his father. Kreese is… is dangerous.” She felt more than a little ridiculous having to point that out to him when he was standing there beat to hell. But he just shook his head, looking defeated, and turned and walked away. Miguel shot her a look that was half reproachful, half apologetic, and followed him.
“We’ll just have to give Robby some space for now,” her father said, sounding about a million years old. “I’m not happy about it, either, but if we try to force it we could end up just pushing him farther away.”
“But…,” Sam said helplessly, looking back at the doors of the dojo. Robby was right in there. He was still only sixteen years old, a minor. Couldn’t his father just drag him out kicking and screaming if it came to that? The risk of making Robby angrier seemed to pale in comparison to the importance of keeping Robby safe.
Wasn’t her father the one who was always calling Kreese a psycho? Hadn’t both he and Robby’s father just fought him nearly to the death? Because that’s certainly what it had looked like when she and Miguel had come running up, the smashed window, all three men battered and bloody, and her father looking like he’d been about to do something irreversible.
“He just needs some time,” her father said, a little more firmly. “Then he’ll listen to reason. He’ll be okay, Sam. He’s a strong kid.” He rubbed his hands over his face wearily, wincing as he encountered the wound at his temple. “C’mon, we should get home, too. Your mother’s probably out of her mind with worry.”
Isn’t ‘kid’ the operative word there? Sam thought, but didn’t protest any further. Her father didn’t seem up to arguing. It seemed crazy to think that leaving Robby behind with that man was in any way an okay thing to do, but what could she do in the face of her father’s certainty? When Robby’s own father had already walked away? March in there and try to reason with Robby herself? He wouldn’t listen to her, not now.
Her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Miguel.
‘Sry about that. Robby is a big sore spot for sensei.’
She pursed her lips in frustration. That seemed like an awfully selfish reason to leave Robby in danger. But there was no point in arguing with Miguel about it. She quickly replied that it was okay and they’d talk more later.
Her doubts about the whole situation only deepened later that night as she sat on the stairs near the living room, shamelessly eavesdropping as her father told her mother what had happened at the dojo. She felt a cold knot of dread in her chest as he confirmed her suspicion that Kreese had tried to kill them. The man had actually straight-up tried to murder them. Robby’s father would probably be dead now if her own hadn’t shown up when he had.
And then they’d left Robby alone with the psycho who’d tried to choke his father out, and then who’d gone after her own father with a piece of glass.
She listened as her father repeated the same excuses to her mother that he’d said to her. They needed to give Robby space. They couldn’t risk pushing him further away. He was a strong kid. Etc., etc.
Somehow, the words felt hollow. But again, she could not see an alternative, not if the adults weren’t willing to act.
No, for now she’d have to trust that her dad knew best. Even if she couldn’t banish the sick feeling in her stomach that they were making a terrible mistake.
TBC