Work Text:
“Jason!”
“Oh, good God…” Jason’s bag isn’t even on its hook yet, and Dick is already yelling at him. “I cleaned up after breakfast! Made my bed! Even hung my towel! Why are you yelling at me!?”
“I’ll take back all the times I called you a fatass if you come get yours out of my bedroom!”
“Our bedroom.” Jason corrects without thinking.
“Oh my— not the point!”
With his bag hung up, emptied of whichever textbooks, printed PowerPoint’s, and the like needed for the next day, Jason leaves it all in a stack on their kitchen table to go and see what Dick is worked up about.
“He smells and he won’t wake up.” Dick says as Jason swings their bedroom door open, chilled by the breeze through his open window.
Bruce is the last thing Jason expected to see, though he should’ve guessed. Dick sounds a certain amount of irritated with the multitude of things in his life to be irritated by, and at this point in Jason and Bruce’s relationship, the degree of annoyed may as well be a trigger to get Jason thinking of apologies or excuses. Dick sounded concerned, though, despite calling Bruce fatass, so Jason failed to realize.
“What do you mean won’t wake up?”
“I don’t know, Jay,” Dick says, exasperated and overly sarcastic, “I think I mean what I fucking mean. You’d think he, of all people, would be a light sleeper, but I’m all out of non-violent options and he’s still dead to the world.”
“Was he asleep when you got here?” Jason walks over to where Bruce lays, Jason’s comforter pulled up to cover his face. “He didn’t text me…”
“I have a shift in…” Dick checks his watch, “thirty minutes I was getting ready for. Heard the window pop open in the shower and came in here ready to kill. He was out in, I don’t know, give or take five minutes.”
“You’re working early.”
“Jason, stop missing the goddamn point. Why is he here?” Dick asks, his patience wearing thin. “I was really starting to warm up to him, y’know, but then here he fuckin’ comes…”
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t…” Jason shrugs, “I just don’t have an answer for you, Dickie. My guess, though, is a long night, and he didn’t want his mom to deal with him like this, or… or one of his friends.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Like I said, I’m guessing.”
“Well, just,” Dick sighs, “whatever. What can I do? He’s, like, five times my size and I have a job. But if he makes this a habit, he owes me rent.”
“Sorry.” Dick glares at him. Jason puts his hands up in surrender. “Seriously, man, I am. I always try to let you know when he’ll be by, but he didn’t tell me this time.”
“I’ll tell you what I always do,” Dick goes to leave, Jason following him out of their bedroom, “keep my bed out of it.”
“Oh, uh, you mind if I use it as a place to sit and study? He’s kind’a…” Jason makes a vague motion with his hands. “Well, you did call him a fatass.”
“Change your clothes, then sure.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll try to have dinner leftovers for when you get back.”
“Better be extra fuckin’ good, Jay.” Dick says as he shuts their front door, looking as excited to go to work as Jason looks to go to his unfortunate Friday class. Which is to say, not at all.
Jason heaves a sigh once he’s for sure gone, feeling like he deflates right along with it. He wasn’t exactly worried by Dick yelling at him the second he stepped inside—it wasn’t his first time, and surely won’t be his last—but seeing why he was shouting? When Jason is equally as confused?
Shaking his head, Jason grabs the stack of things he left on the table and moves them to Dick’s bed, swapping his jeans for fleece-lined sweats and his hoodie for one he’s been sleeping in.
He gets through a majority of what he needs to know for his Tuesdays and Thursdays, and only has to wash smudged ink from the side of his palm once. He’s sitting with his chin propped in his hand, listening as the lecturer on his screen drones on about key takeaways, when Bruce stirs.
“Um,” his eyes are squinted against the grey late afternoon light through Jason’s window, “hmmn.”
Jason stares as he wakes, slow-blinking and stretching himself back into existence with a jaw-cracking yawn. When he sits up, the hair at the back of his head sticks up in funny directions. Jason’s surprised to find he’s shirtless.
“I hope you have pants on.” Bruce turns to face the voice, expression laced with a groggy frowniness, and clears his throat. “Dick hates you again.”
Bruce can only nod. He twists and turns to crack his spine before laying back down, hands taking the place of Jason’s covers over his eyes.
“Are you up for good, or will you be sleeping through the last of these main points?” Bruce looks at him again, eyes flicking from Jason’s face to where he’s pointing at his laptop. “It’s about coding. Real interesting stuff.”
“… I could teach you code.”
“Don’t doubt it. So?”
“Um, mhm,” Bruce shifts to lay on his side, Jason’s bed creaking with the movement, “I’m awake.”
“Good,” Jason shuts his laptop, “then I don’t have to listen to them.”
“You should.”
“The slides are titled like sections of a paper. No point in rewriting them when I already have them.”
“Waylon would tell you to skip to the end,” Bruce goes back to laying flat as Jason stands and walks over, “to jus’ get the notes from there.”
“Was he a good student?”
“Wan’a guess?”
“He learns from you just fine.” Jason kneels at the end of his mattress, yanking his covers away, Bruce eyeing him as he crawls up the length of him from there. “Is he a one-track-mind sort of guy?”
“Hundred percent.” Bruce gladly takes all of Jason’s weight on top of him, legs bent to plant his feet so Jason’s forced to scoot in closer. “I have a better reward system, too. Free food champions some shitty feedback.”
“I know lots of goody-two-shoes who would argue.”
“And you?” Bruce’s hands are cool when they slip under Jason’s hoodie and stroke up his back, fingers tracing his spine.
“How many times have you bought me a meal?”
“Good answer.” Bruce chuckles.
“It’s true.” Jason crosses his arms atop Bruce’s chest, cheek laid to his forearm. “Anyway, Dick for real wasn’t happy about you being here. So, y’know, I got’a ask.”
“It’s what you said.”
“You were awake?”
“You two argue like you’re married.” Bruce says by way of an answer. “When he yelled your name, I’m surprised he didn’t hear me jump.”
“You believe me now? About how he could one-hundred percent track you down if he wanted?” Jason laughs lightly, nuzzling deeper into Bruce the longer he pets Jason’s back. “Wouldn’t even need my help.”
“I never thought he couldn’t.” Bruce joins in his laughter. “So what’s for dinner?”
“We’ll get there when we get there.” Jason jabs him in the ribs for the teasing. “He’ll be gone for a while. These early shifts are… they’re killer.”
“… what were you gon’a say?”
“A Dick killer.”
“Hm,” Bruce huffs, “took away an opportunity.”
“You got enough opportunity already.” Jason says with a purposeful wiggle.
“Just because he’s not here…” Bruce trails off, no real reluctance in his tone.
In fact, it’s Bruce who urges Jason further onto him. He keeps his hands cupped under his butt after he’s moved, lazy and exploratory in the way he feels him up, matching Jason’s quiet smile as he nudges in for a kiss.
“We’re keeping his bed out of it, aren’t we? So what’s the harm?” Jason jokes between kisses.
“No harm done.” Bruce answers haughtily, making Jason chuckle and roll his eyes. “And since you’re such a troublemaker, I’m sure you already know exactly how his bed will be kept out of it.”
“Maybe.” Jason sits straight with a parting peck.
“Uh huh,” Bruce’s hands follow him upright, moving from his ass to his waist, “care to share?”
With how laid back Bruce is and the entire expanse of his torso being Jason’s to revel in, he thinks not really. Bruce doesn’t mind the silence in response, more than happy to stay reclined as he is to watch Jason inch his way south.
“Didn’t know my sheets had a smell until now.” Jason notes offhandedly, having been busy entertaining himself by sucking bruises onto Bruce’s torso to watch him flinch. “Or maybe it’s you.”
“It’s you, not me.” Bruce clarifies. “Your sweat and your body soap.”
“Oh, how attractive.”
“You smell good, you fuckin’ charmer.” Bruce nudges him with a foot, grinning when Jason does. “I thought there’d be more smoke.”
“With Dick as a roommate?” The question answers itself. “I’d say you could steal something, but…”
“You’re enough.” Bruce hums.
Jason presses a blushing cheek to Bruce’s hip bone, hiding his smile behind a too-big bite just under his navel. Bruce’s thighs draw in around him from the shock of it, then fan out when Jason’s teeth start dragging lower.
“You’re more than enough.” Jason turns the compliment back over to him.
Bruce is, in fact, wearing pants. Jason briefly wonders where he’s tossed his shirt before he’s interrupted by fingers beneath his chin. Bruce is unknotting the tie of his sweatpants for him—something Jason first frowns at, as he wanted to try and undo it with his teeth—so Jason won’t struggle with it later.
In place of untying them, Jason takes the elastic waistband between his teeth and pulls his head back until the heavy weight of Bruce’s cock is jutting out. To snap them back into place is a given, even if Jason is pretend-crushed by Bruce’s legs for doing so.
“Sorry,” Jason says without really meaning it, “saw a chance and took it.”
“You’re awful.” Bruce tells him with a shake of his head, reaching down to push fingers through Jason’s study-tussled hair.
It’s a selfish attempt to brush the mess of it away from his eyes, Bruce wanting to look at as much of Jason as he’s able. To his dismay, it curls back over when he ducks his head, behaving more carefully with his teeth as he works to reveal the full length of Bruce’s cock.
He starts with a kiss to where he snapped his waistband against him, chuckling to himself remembering how it made Bruce flinch, then lathes his tongue from base to tip in one broad, wet sweep.
Bruce just about melts from the pleasure, straightening out his spread knees so Jason can better prop himself up between them. He shimmies down into the provided space, elbows and forearms barred over Bruce’s hips.
He spends a short while leisurely slicking the first few inches of Bruce’s cock, warming his mouth up for more as much as he is teasing. He rolls his tongue beneath the cockhead, purses his lips to suck over the tip, mouths drooling kisses down the length of him.
All the while Bruce struggles to just lay there and take it, his breath quickening, sweat gathering over his stomach, grasping Jason’s sleep-rumpled sheets in place of his hair.
When he first slips Bruce’s cock further than his pouted lips, the pitch of Jason’s satisfied moan rivals Bruce’s relieved groan at the feel of it.
Quick to rearrange himself on his hands and knees for a better angle, Jason spits messily onto Bruce’s cock before chasing it down. He makes a conscious effort to watch his teeth, but otherwise lets the thickness of Bruce’s cock overwhelm his mouth.
“Good God, Jase,” Bruce pants, “God, ff— fuck…”
Jason doesn’t pull off to respond, making no indication he actually heard Bruce save for the small but visible shudder down his spine.
Rather he keeps at it, slowing the steady eagerness of his bobbing head in order to work more between his lips. Bruce inches his hips away on instinct, not wanting to trigger a retch, breath picking up when Jason refuses to let him get far.
“Jase, I’m… you don’t need to.”
When it’s obvious his concerns are pointless, Bruce makes a mental note to tell Jason I told you so when it all ends up being too much.
For now Jason determinedly lowers his head, breathing through the worst of his body’s attempts to reject the intrusion until his shoulders relax and he’s nosing at Bruce’s lower stomach. He holds himself there as long as he’s able, trying and failing not to squirm whenever Bruce does.
He pulls off with a gasping breath, eyes wet, thick ropes of saliva clinging to his lips and Bruce’s cock.
“I…” he coughs to clear his throat, “I want to.”
“Clearly.” Bruce says, strained.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Jason grins, unbothered by his unending drool.
It’s what makes the next deep duck of his head easy to do, his way down already soaking wet.
He’s more of a tease since he now knows he can take all of Bruce in his throat, edging him deeper inside every couple bobs of his head without going all the way, his body burning with each moan of anticipation from Bruce.
Jason’s own cock throbs, aching in his sweatpants, sparing a half-thought to dropping his lower body onto his mattress for some form of friction before it’s interrupted, Bruce tangling a desperate fist into his hair and crumpling the idea like paper.
The one hand alone is enough of a tell for Jason to brace himself, gathering his own fistfuls of sheets and giving Bruce a winking go ahead.
Bent knees give Bruce a little more control over the wildness of his thrusts as compared to if he were laid flat, though it means little when faced with Jason’s eagerness to please and the oh-so-inviting stretch of his throat. With one eye squeezed shut, breathing through his nose when he’s able, Jason’s more than happy to follow the yanking guide of Bruce’s hand clenched in his bangs as his mouth gets fucked.
He gives in to the want and lets his hips go lax, Bruce’s bed-shaking thrusts providing more than enough stimulation in addition to the rough treatment of his throat.
Bubbled spit foams around his lips and Jason’s sure his cheeks are a vibrant pink—both from arousal and from the give and take of air he’s in no control of—just as he can feel his ears burn the same bright color. Aside from his drooling, wet eyes have spilled over to join what tracks down his neck to dampen the collar of his hoodie. He sweats in it, over exerted, but wouldn’t tap out to undress even if he was threatened by overheating.
Not when Bruce is getting rougher, his knotted fingers growing unkind and pumping hips becoming sporadic, a slurry of apologies and vulgarities hiding within unhinged groans.
Jason would fight the upward tug if he had the leverage to. Instead he can only stick his tongue out, bridged to Bruce’s cock by viscous spit, and take the majority of his release over his cheek and onto the shoulder of his sweatshirt, less of it caught by his mouth than he would prefer.
Jason thumbs come from his cheek to suck it clean, again and again until his skin is more saliva-sticky than it is ejaculate-sticky.
“Sorry…” Bruce huffs, “sorry about…”
Jason shrugs his dirtied shoulder—better this one than the one he had on previously.
“Let me swallow next time, and I’ll accept the apology.” Jason pulls his sweatshirt off, wiping his face and neck dry with it, chill bumps forming due to his still-open window. “Honestly, it was gon’a be my lube.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Bruce mutters, dropping his head heavily into Jason’s pillows, exasperated. “Yeah, you got it. We got a deal.”
“Since you robbed me from what I wanted to use…” Jason gives a purposeful pause, using the space of his dropped-off sentence to lay himself atop Bruce again, one hand remaining low to squeeze his hip, “and, y’know, you got this nicely made mess down here…”
“Jason…”
Bruce inhales sharply at the tight press of Jason’s cool torso to his sweaty one, holding his breath when Jason’s hand ventures from hip to between his thighs, wedging past his cock to slip two fingers over his drool-slick hole. He eyes him wearily, reluctance slipping further into acceptance the longer he massages Bruce to softness.
“Since when are you this stubborn?” Bruce huffs, knees falling open in defeat.
“Since you stole my come lube.”
“Maybe if you shared what you had planned…”
“Maybe this is why I didn’t share.”
“You’re confident, hm?” Bruce shoos him away so he can sit up and kick his sweats the rest of the way off. “Don’t look so happy.”
“I get to fuck The Batman.” Jason says matter-of-factly. When Bruce lays back again he doesn’t follow, instead guiding Bruce’s thighs to rest over his, his unkempt sheets acting as support for Bruce’s hips. Pooling thick spit over his tongue and licking it onto his fingers, Jason tucks his hand back where it was. “How could I not be happy?”
The tilt of Bruce’s lower body allows one finger to slip in with ease, loosened by Jason’s previously massaging fingertips and aided by a low thrum of arousal within him. His core flexes with the intrusion, not ever one to be on the receiving end.
Jason, unable to help himself, stretches up to kiss the conflicted look from Bruce’s face.
“You’re gon’a need more than spit, Jase.” Bruce says, bringing it to attention before he’s too worked up to do so.
“Says who?” He sounds genuinely offended from where he’s moved to kissing and biting Bruce’s throat. “I’m swallowing spit like I’m chugging water.”
Mouth opened to argue back, Jason adds a second spit-slick finger alongside his first. Whatever Bruce was starting to say stutters to a stop. Jason lays a loud kiss to his clenched jaw, grinning when Bruce rolls his eyes.
“You have no idea how wet I made you, B.” Jason’s voice is a sweet rumble when he says it.
Bruce tips his head back to hide the way it makes his face warm, something Jason takes as an invitation for one last biting kiss before he backs off to watch his scissoring fingers.
He’s glared at when he lobs more saliva onto his fingers, but the almost imaginable way Bruce writhes when he takes too long to fuck them back inside only worsens Jason’s gloating. Still, he gives Bruce what he’s wordlessly asked for.
Though, just as Jason does, Bruce has little patience for this part.
He tries not to let it show, not when he gets on Jason’s case about trying to rush through it so often, but he gets it, now.
As unfamiliar as it is, the digits prying him open have reached their extent, softened to a dull ache and even duller pleasure. His heart still jackrabbits and his cock lies heavy, tacky, and half-hard on his hip, well on its way to fully alive, but it’s the sight of Jason between his legs doing it for him, not the caress of his fingers.
It’s Jason, flushed cheeks to chest to his belly button, staring, enraptured, between Bruce’s thighs. It’s the impossible-to-ignore impression of his cock against the front of his sweats and the spottiness of their fabric.
You have no idea how wet I made you echoes in Bruce’s ears, but he can’t help but wonder how those words apply to Jason.
“Fuck me.”
“Wh…”
“C’mon, Jase…” Bruce isn’t past begging, exactly, but he knows as well as Jason his habit of being too direct does him more favors. “Fuck me.”
“Uh,” Jason’s nodding before the words catch up to him, “right. Yeah, duh, I’ll… God, woah, you’re really letting me go all the way?”
“Spit-lube and everything.” Bruce pushes himself upright, sticking his neck out until Jason’s leaning in. “You gon’a?”
“Yes.” Jason breathes out, hardly making a word out of it.
Overeager, he grabs for Bruce to kiss him instead of grabbing for his sweatpants, so Bruce lets his jaw and neck be smothered in Jason’s wet kisses of appreciation as he undoes the tie keeping him decent. Jason full-body flinches when they’re yanked down, taken no further than his knees with how he’s lurched into Bruce’s space.
“C’mon then,” Bruce elbows him away, taking Jason’s final kiss to his lips, “you’re the biggest fuckin’ temptation in the world, Jase, would hate to have all your hard work go to waste.”
“That’s so not funny.” Jason shakes his head, standing up to shuck his sweatpants and briefs away. “You can’t take this away from me.”
“I’ve already asked for it three times.” Bruce teases, chuckling at Jason’s responding glare.
“Just ‘cause I was acting up earlier doesn’t mean you have to.”
Jason settles back onto the bed, stroking a loose fist over his cock. Bruce covers the hand with his own, grasping tighter when Jason moves his away. Bruce should be less shocked by how slick he is, what with how long he’s gone without any attention, but still—
“Fuck your spit-lube,” Bruce says in awe, “damn.”
Jason huffs, embarrassed, waving his hand away and then for him to lie back.
Bruce obliges with one final twist of his fingers over his cock, biting back his smirk when it makes Jason shiver. Cautious of how he moves his legs, Bruce turns onto his stomach, still with Jason between spread knees, still with his hips supported by bunched-up sheets.
“You’re so annoying.” Jason’s dripping pink from his cheeks to navel, again. “Literally just big and sexy and so fuckin’ annoying about it.”
Bruce says nothing, opting to stretch an arm up to grip the frame of Jason’s headboard while his other hand curls over the edge of his mattress.
“Uu-ugh.” Jason groans, whiny and way too turned on by so simple of a display.
Still he sidles in close, taking Bruce’s ass in both hands and squeezing the generosity there, his revenge delivered in the form of too much spit dripping onto his hole. He uses more to slick his cock, though Bruce was right in pointing out how unnecessary it is, before he takes himself at the base to guide his cock inside.
“Oh,” Bruce gasps with Jason’s slow-but-sure first thrust, “mm… hmm—!”
“Oh my God.” Jason says in one breath, unmoving hips squished to Bruce’s ass. “There’s no way.”
“Don’t lose it too fast.” Bruce says, but he himself is already panting. “Oh my God is right, though.”
“Nah, it’s… I’m fine, I’m so fine, just… Jesus, you’re still tight.”
Jason stabilizes himself with hands around Bruce’s waist, eyeing the flexing muscle across his upper back and down his arms so he doesn’t lose it over Bruce’s hole gripping on as he pulls his hips back.
Building up the swing of his hips is a slow process, one he nearly hyperventilates during, more thick spit and Bruce’s responding groans being what gets him there in the end.
Bruce’s body still clings to his cock, properly stretched yet just as greedy as when he wasn’t. Jason’s hands at his waist, iron in their grip on him, make it difficult to move as he wants, though Jason being strong enough—whether it’s him and only him or his desperation acting in his favor—to do so makes Bruce burn hotter.
What makes it worse, or maybe it’s a fortunate thing, is Jason moaning for it more than Bruce is. He’s well aware Jason has a habit of being chatty in and out of bed, but this is more noise than anything Bruce has heard from him previously.
“Jay, you— fuck, fucker, don’t speed up when I’m…!” Bruce swears.
“I’m fine, it’s fine, you’re s-so…” a hand moves from waist to curl over Bruce’s shoulder, nails digging in.
“What?” Bruce huffs, managing a smirk through his groaning. “You fuck me more con… confident… fuckin’—” Bruce heaves a steadying breath, “more confident than you talk to me.”
Jason whines, his irritations warring with his arousal made obvious in the noise.
He’s persistent, though, rocking into Bruce despite the shit-talk and the overwhelming pleasure. To Jason’s misfortune, so is Bruce.
“You were so sure of your— oh, ff-fuck…” Bruce yanks at the headboard, squirming back into the new angle of Jason’s pistoning cock. “So sure of yourself earlier, yeah? Still got that in you? Fuck me, Jase, I— oh, my… God—!”
With more strength Bruce didn’t think he had, Jason has fixed his hips to nudge Bruce’s prostate nearly every forward thrust, using his handholds on Bruce’s waist and shoulder as leverage to hold himself in the position needed for it. It cuts Bruce’s dirty ramblings off, denying him of anything but deep groans and low-pitched whining.
As opposed to Jason, who’s doing his damnedest while whimpering like he’s the one taking it.
“Bruce.” Jason says, his first comprehensible word in a while. “B, fuck, can you…?” Jason pulls at him. “Turn over? Please, I— will you?”
“Yeah, ease up,” Bruce agrees, wanting to see Jason’s expressions as badly as it seems Jason wants to see his, “off, Jase, c’mon.”
He pulls out but not away, meaning Bruce has to roll to his back with a patience he doesn’t really have. The sight he’s greeted with—hooded eyes, splotchy pink cheeks, a glazy stare—do more than make up for it, though.
Still with a hand braced on the headboard, Bruce can now reach for his cock rather than his death grip on the bed.
He strokes himself slow as Jason slips back in, another smear of saliva slicking the way. To watch the way his expression shifts as a tight, hot hole envelops him is something Bruce wishes he hadn’t missed the first time. It’s as if Bruce can see how his sensitivity ratchets up, core flexed to hold off on coming right then and there.
“Jesus, Jay.” Bruce can’t help but say.
“You feel good,” Jason shrugs, his voice coming out strained, adding on a quiet, “and look good.”
Picturing Jason in his spot, spread out and sweating in his bed, a slow twist in his wrist with every pass of his fist over his cock, Bruce is sure he’d say the same.
He goes to make a quip about it, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but his jaw opens for a gasp rather than the words. Whether Jason felt back-talk like a sixth sense or his impatience got the best of him, Bruce isn’t sure, but the sturdy beat of his hips tips his answer in favor of the latter.
There’s no pattern to it, at least not one Bruce can keep up with. It’d be pointless to try, anyway, because Jason’s kneading his hands around Bruce’s ribcage and mashing his forehead to his sternum a minute later.
Each breath is a quiet whimper, trying to gain his bearings and ultimately failing. Bruce ripples around his cock with every breath, with every minute shift of his body.
“I’m gon’a come.” Jason admits pitifully, an obvious pout in his eyes and eyebrows when he looks at Bruce. “I’m… yeah, fuck, but I wanted you first.”
“Keep goin’, Jay.” Bruce tells him, partly ignoring his pouting. “You ever been fucked after a blowjob? C’mon, I’m dying here.”
“But I’m—”
“Jason,” Bruce interrupts, an arousal-fueled irritation warming his chest, “I’m dying here.”
Jason chews his bottom lip, fingers squeezing and relaxing at Bruce’s sides, contemplation and concern written all over his blushing face.
His whining builds up in time with the swing of his hips, worsening the pink in his cheeks—something Bruce watches happen with a gleeful smirk, arcing into Jason’s hands with a newfound satisfaction.
“Good?” Bruce asks in a pleased sigh, having to bite down on his growing smirk upon Jason’s reaction.
“Don’t even…” Jason shakes his head, a burning cheek pressed into his upper arm.
He’s staring at Bruce’s neck, at red marks soon to be bruises, wet with Jason’s spit and his own sweat. Then at his arms, his chest, the pleased flex of muscles. Then to Bruce’s fist over his cock, his stomach and his fingers slick with pre. He’s staring and he’s watching, obsessing over the way Bruce looks laid out for him.
“Hm?” Bruce hums, sliding a purposeful palm over his stomach until he can grasp Jason around a wrist. “Feels good, yeah?”
Jason claws his nails into Bruce’s pec when his hand is led there, his other following without hesitation. He’s nodding, mumbling yes, fuck yes in the midst of his overwhelmed moaning.
Bruce arches his chest into the sharpness of his nails, sending his hips into the mattress with the movement, his breath stuttering along with Jason’s when it angles his cock exactly where he’s been craving it.
Red lines are raked all along his torso as Jason all but loses it, Bruce reacting to the direct pressure to his prostate with an unforgiving clench of his hole, Jason’s only salvation being to grab Bruce by the waist, holding on tight, pounding into him for dear life.
Jason’s curled back over him, panting hotly down his abdomen, might even be drooling. Bruce lets go of the headboard to grab a fistful of his hair, sticking a thumb between his teeth to keep his own groaning at bay if it means hearing Jason’s borderline sobbing clearly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck— don’t— Bruce, God, keep squeezing my cock, keep… ss-shit!” Jason rambles, his whining a mess of shrill little cut-off sounds and bone-deep noises of satisfaction. “Please, B, please…”
Bruce yanks his head up by the hand in his hair for easier access to his cock, forcing eye contact until he can’t, head thrown back and burrowing into Jason’s pillows as he comes, letting go of Jason’s head to let him duck down and watch.
He tries not to make a show of it, Jason’s more likely the one to do so, but there is drool dotting his stomach, so if Bruce purposefully milks his orgasm until he can’t force his fist, well.
Checkmate.
“You don’t got’a stop,” Bruce pants out, Jason having slowed down to watch Bruce, “you can… yeah, fuck.” He manages a chuckle. “You’re way too much, Jase.”
Jason huffs his own somewhat-laughter. It takes him a second but he brings his hips to a complete stop, a self-inflicted pang of irritation running through him at the loss of friction. Bruce welcomes his straddling legs without complaint, though, and is even more welcoming to bitten lips against his when Jason leans in.
Bruce tracks hands up his thighs and over his back, nudged away only once so Jason can get a hand around himself.
He grips his cock after a swipe through the sweat-come mix on Bruce’s stomach, sighing a whine at the immediate sensitivity in doing so, his free hand twisting sheets and pillows into a fist.
“You’re a fuckin’ demon for jerking off on top of me when I’ve already been done in twice.” Bruce jokes, hands slipping down and around to simultaneously squeeze his ass and drive his hips forward. “The devil personified.”
Jason can only grin at him. At Bruce’s stomach, he can feel the increasing pace over his cock as Jason’s knuckles slip against slick skin. Jason gets the same furrow in his brows and glazy look in his eyes the quicker he goes.
Bruce tells him faster and down he goes, pulling at his bedspread and letting loose those same weak whimpers right into Bruce’s ear.
“So goddamned stubborn…” Bruce mutters to himself.
He has to tamp down the blooming heat in his body when Jason starts fucking his fist, knuckles a pleasant pressure and his cockhead a constant nudge.
“M’coming…” Jason mumbles, deaf to Bruce’s name calling. “Ff— yes, fuck…!”
Bruce twitches when teeth snap in just under his jaw, forced to tip his head back to accommodate the bite, an unwanted rush of blood filling out his cock at the addition of Jason’s come to what lays there drying already.
Jason drags it out, twisting his fist over the head of his cock until it’s near-painful. The pleasure-pain of his gasps do little to help bring down Bruce’s situation, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at Jason’s orgasm-high giggle upon noticing it.
“Told you, you’re a devil.” Bruce restates.
When Jason tries to inch down his body, Bruce makes good on his teased leg locks. Jason’s grinning as he’s half-heartedly tossed, landing with a soft oomph a few too many inches away from Bruce for his liking. Crawling back into his space, Bruce can’t help but match his stupid smile.
“Do that again some time, but fuck me after.” Jason doesn’t phrase it as a question, meaning he’s got another thing on his later list to bother Bruce about.
“You’re insatiable.” Bruce tells him, not outright saying I promise but knows Jason senses it.
“What? No do that again back?”
“Do what? Fuck me?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Sure you can handle it?”
“I handled it.”
“You were dying.”
“Uh, no,” Jason clambers up to his hands and knees to better defend himself, “you were dying. You said you were. Twice.”
“You’re more than half the mess on my stomach, Jase.” Bruce nods downward. Jason’s eyes don’t follow, but he’s blushing again. “I was dying. You were fuckin’ hot. Look at you, though.”
Jason flattens his lips into a line.
“Still dying.” Bruce finishes the thought.
“Yeah, well… you got hard watching me yank it on top of you.” Jason argues back weakly. “After two times, mind you.”
“It’s a compliment.” Bruce winks, hooking his elbow around Jason’s neck to bring him back to eye level.
“Oh, whatever.”