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The lobby of the motel has a damp smell, wet and earthy in a way that has Prime wrinkling his nose. It's the fourth night of this routine and he's starting to get fed up with dim lights and suspiciously stained sheets.
His companion notices the look of distaste on his face and rolls his eyes, elbowing past him to take the lead at the front desk. That suits Prime just fine. He already called ahead while they were on the road and made the booking, loitering in a phone booth (that was one thing about this universe that always got him—it still had phone booths) while the man who is now speaking to the annoyed teenager manning the front desk was taking a piss at a rest stop. It had taken a bit of back and forth as Prime had to reason with the (likely one in the same) desk clerk who insisted that it wasn't really that kind of a joint, but some persuasive words and the promise of a big cash tip to show his unending gratitude had gotten him his way in the end.
Well it's a good thing I called ahead, Prime had announced to his companion as he exited the truck stop bathroom wiping his hands against his jeans, they're straight up booked. I snagged us the last room.
He always has been well-versed in the art of bullshit. Creative thinking, he likes to call it.
And hey, in his defense, he needed to get creative if he wants to have any fun. The man he's been sharing the road with for the past week definitely isn't contributing to the fun department, so it's another burden placed on Prime's shoulders. Typical.
He thought Jason Todd would be way better at road trips.
He's in his redemption arc, and Jason's in something, pairing them up just makes narrative sense.
(Sometimes he wishes he could stop looking at the world and seeing the strings. But it's hard to take a life seriously when you've seen it rise and fall at the whims of an editorial department.)
He'd barely listened to the details of the brief, dismissing it all as the flimsy plot device it was. Bruce and Clark numero uno were busy with some mega planetary threat, but Oracle had flagged a pattern of disappearances concentrated around New Angelique and needed boots on the ground. People were vanishing, and weird holes were popping up around their last known locations. It needed detective work, but also the apparent supernatural element called for the strength of somebody who could get hit by a train and be pretty much fine. Batman and Superman, but like, a dark fucked up version haha.
They had paired up and set off, and if he's being honest, Prime had been pretty pumped about meeting Jason in earnest. There were parallels to their lives that he found compelling, and it didn't hurt that Jason had that old-school muscled physique that had Prime spending his teenage years pouring over comic books that he totally read for the plot. None of that lean muscle garbage that was more on trend now, Jason was a brick shithouse. He wanted to impress him. He wanted Jason to be just as compelled by Prime as Prime was by Jason.
Unfortunately for him, it seemed like Jason couldn't give less of a shit what Prime wanted. He'd been brusque from the start, shrugging off most any attempt at male bonding Prime threw him. It was obvious Jason had his mind made up about him before they ever met, which was irksome. Prime would have thought Jason Todd of all people knew a thing or two about not judging without seeing for yourself, but apparently that didn't extend to situations where you judged someone as annoying. Prime had been on his best behaviour, but Jason never picked up what he was laying down.
So he's done the wholesome comic book thing. He's tried to get somewhere that way, and all it's left him with is silent stretches of highway and a vague frustration he isn't sure is directed at Jason or himself. But maybe his problem is that he's been too focused on being a good boy for the canon. A Superboy Prime/Red Hood team up seemed perfect for selling gimmick issues, so he wanted to do his part and make the bromance happen. He's been trying too hard, that realization had struck him last night as he lay alone on another stiff motel mattress. He's been following all the wrong beats. This isn't a bromance, it's a crackship.
And he has a whole new kit of tropes to draw on.
"The room's ready," Jason reports, knocking Prime out of his thoughts and back to the present. He dangles the key in front of him, an old-school metal one attached to a cheap plastic promotional tag. Prime reaches out and grabs it, slinging his duffel bag higher on his shoulder and smirking at Jason as he breezes past him.
"Then let's get a move on," he says, chest pounding with excitement as he pictures what he already knows is waiting for them. "I'm beat."
Moments later, they're standing shoulder to shoulder in the small motel room. Much to Prime's satisfaction, the desk teen had followed his instructions when assigning their room perfectly. No notes.
"…There's only one bed," Jason says after a long beat of silence, stating the obvious. "What the fu—"
Prime cuts him off before the obscenity is all the way out of his mouth. "I guess it's what was left. Remember how I said we booked the last room?"
Still not true. Still wouldn't hold up under even the lightest weight of scrutiny. The motel is clearly dead: there are only a couple of cars other than theirs in the lot outside, and they hadn't run into other guests at any point since they'd arrived on the property. But he's counting on Jason being too tired from their day on the road to think about it too critically, and from the way he runs his fingers through his hair and tilts his head back in exhausted frustration, Prime is pretty sure he nailed it.
"Look," he starts again quickly before Jason has a chance to think about going back to the lobby to complain, "I'm tired as hell. You're tired as hell. We're both reasonable guys, right? And it's a queen-size. Why don't we just man up and get over it for tonight, and tomorrow we never have to talk about it again. Deal?"
Promise I won't try and cuddle, he thinks of adding, but the lies really do get to a point.
Jason is silent, his jaw working as he assumedly weighs his desire to rest against his desire to stay as far away from Prime as possible. He honestly seems more… tense about the whole situation than Prime would have guessed. There's an agitated crease between his brows, one that Prime finds himself staring at as Jason works on his response. He figured he'd be pissed, but it seems like something is bugging him beyond the obvious inconvenience. Maybe he really does just hate Prime that bad.
Before he can feel chastened enough to call the whole thing off and offer to head back to the lobby to demand recompense himself, Jason mutters something under his breath and tosses his bag onto the bed. Prime thinks it's as close to acceptance as he's going to get.
They eat their dinner of takeout hastily grabbed from a nearby burger joint without consistent identity (the exterior sign had read Atomic Burger but the branding on the menu was all Big Bang Burger), Prime sitting at the desk and Jason sprawled out on the foot of the bed. Prime is trying not to stare, but that's easier said than done when Jason has abandoned his jeans and the full glorious bulk of his thighs are on display for him. His briefs are just a hair too tight around them, the material squeezing him just enough to be noticeable.
Jason wipes his fingers against the (in fairness, already fairly soiled) bedspread, and Prime wrinkles his nose up. This is the guy he's so fixated on? Really?
Then Jason shifts, pushing himself off the mattress in one fluid movement and crossing the room to retrieve a laptop from his bag. He holds it in one hand and navigates the track pad with the other, working briefly before flipping it around to show Prime the screen. There's a map displayed on the screen with custom place markings, and Prime notices a couple of the spots they'd hit over the past week among them.
"I went over everything again earlier," he starts, all business. "You see the mass here?" He gestures to a group of markings where they'd checked things out the day before, "These are all on the same line of a power grid. There's a substation two miles out from the first one. I'm thinking… we let the holes get us all distracted, looking underground, sewers, drainage, but what if this thing's moving through electricity? Then going to ground after?"
And there it is.
Jason's smart, he reminds himself. Smarter than half the bozos declaring themselves the world's greatest anything but still making the same dumb mistakes as their writers. He's definitely smarter than Prime (who had only half-jokingly suggested this was the work of evil gophers shortly into their partnership), and that isn't a concession Prime is willing to make for many people.
He makes a show of lazily stretching out, pretending to think it over, but he's already made up his mind that Jason's cracked something big here. Still, he can't just give it to him for nothing. He needs to make him squirm a little.
"Yeah, I guess," he says after a moment, and he doesn't miss the small twitch at the corner of Jason's mouth, "that doesn't sound totally stupid." Pressing his hands to his knees Prime pushes up from the desk chair, clapping Jason on the shoulder as he moves by.
"Good detective work, Boy Wonder Two. First thing tomorrow let's get this thing on like Donkey Kong." He tries to keep his voice light, like none of this has much of an impact on his day one way or another. Jason says nothing, only nods and closes the laptop, which irritates Prime more than it has any right to. Why doesn't he ache for Prime's approval in the same way Prime aches for his? What is he doing wrong?
Maybe it isn't his fault. Prime has always found these comic book guys to be overly earnest, overly serious, overly focused. He can't exactly blame them, most of the time they need to keep it PG-13, and Prime can't imagine what it must be like to have the Comics Code Authority embedded in your very psyche, but it does wear a guy down. He thought Jason might be a little less tangled up in that neurosis, but maybe even Red Hood isn't immune to the dulling effects of censorship. It's a pity, really. He should pity him.
This is what he tells himself as he gets ready to sleep that night, coping harder than he's ever coped before.
When he wakes, he's alone in the bed.
It's not even late enough for a psychotic early riser to reasonably get a start on their day. The room is bathed in darkness, the unchanging elements that make up every motel room ever reduced only to dark smudges as his eyes adjust. He props himself up on his elbow, and from that vantage, can see there is in fact one prick of light: through the glass door that leads out to the small balcony, the glow of a lit cigarette.
A few seconds pass, and he can see it illuminate the contours of Jason's face. Lit only by the faint ember, it gives Jason an even more severe look than his regular. Prime is reminded that this is the same man who once delivered a sackful of heads to Gotham's worst scum without batting an eye. It was easy to lose sight of it when they were sharing a rental car in awkward silence after Jason had rebuffed yet another one of Prime's attempts to get him talking, but Jason isn't somebody you want to fuck with. Maybe all of this has been just a little too much fucking with for a guy like that.
Jason had gone to the bed without fanfare or announcement, immediately rolling onto his side, closing his eyes, and shutting himself off. Prime didn't think he'd ever heard his breathing even out or his heartbeat slow before he himself drifted off, and as he lays there watching Jason take another drag of his cigarette, he wonders if he even slept at all.
Suddenly Jason turns his head, sharp eyes locking onto Prime through the glass. There's no way he can actually see him, Prime reasons, it's too dark even for Prime's enhanced senses to make out much of anything, but a shiver runs down his spine at the eerie sensation that Jason is watching him watch him. It only lasts for a beat before Jason leans over, stubbing his cigarette out against the balcony rail, then slides the door open and ambles back into the room.
Prime doesn't know why he does it. Moments ago he was regretting every decision that had brought him to this point, and now here he is, quickly rolling over and splaying out across the mattress as if, in Jason's absence, his body had moved to fill the space. Something about the way Jason had looked at him, seeing him even in the dark, had gripped Prime's head with the buzzing feeling he always got when he wanted something so badly he would rip the universe open just for a taste. It's like he can't form a solid thought, can't reason with himself in any meaningful way, he can only act.
He feels Jason approach the bed and stop, and Prime holds his breath as he waits to see what Jason will do. If he hasn't slept all night he's likely exhausted, will a substantially large superhero taking up the width of their shared bed be enough to get him to forgo sleep entirely? Doesn't seem like it, with the way the mattress slowly dips under Prime as Jason climbs back onto it. Prime's mouth curls up at the corner as he feels Jason's shoulder brush against his arm, and still feigning sleep, he rolls forward and slings it around Jason completely.
A risky move, but a risk that pays off when Jason tenses, exhales in something like annoyance, but doesn't try to shove Prime away. Maybe Jason has decided he's tired of fighting Prime just to get some sleep, or maybe deep down he likes the feeling of being held against a broad chest, but either way it feels like a victory.
For several minutes, the two of them just lay there in silence, Prime still pretending at sleep while Jason seems to be falling into it. Slowly his breathing evens out, and he even seems to curl against Prime's chest in a way he really wishes he could hold over his head without giving up the fact of his own deception. But in that motel bed, Jason pressed safely against his chest, Prime falls back asleep with a very smug smile on his face.
He isn't sure how much time has passed when he jolts back to consciousness. He doesn't need to open his eyes to tell it's still dark out—nothing pricks at his eyelids, and the only real sounds his hearing picks up are distant overnight haul trucks on the highway. Still too early, he thinks. He's about to try and get back to sleep when his body wakes up too, and he becomes aware of the way he's shifted in his genuine sleep.
He's no longer holding Jason against him. Instead they've exchanged positions, having both apparently rolled over in their sleep. He can feel one of Jason's large thighs slung over his hip in a way that has him shuddering, and he realizes with a delight that borders on sickening that this thigh placement facilitates a hardness pressed directly against his ass. Jason's cock is heavy and unmistakable, and Prime wonders if the man has spent many nights with another body in close quarters like this. From the way he's reacted unconsciously from just having something warm to sleepily rut against, he very much doubts it.
Prime lets out a little grunt as he shifts back against him, slowly grinding his ass without giving it much thought. He's still half-asleep, and the guy he's been obsessively trying to court the attention of is hard and needy and pressing, it seems like the natural response. But he hears a sound closer to his ear that he expected, Jason softly groaning in a way that sounds so incredibly obscene coming from somebody Prime had begun to see as just another sanitized comic book hero with an edgy veneer, and the reality of the situation hits him in a way that he is usually very good at compartmentalizing.
He rolls over—wincing over the loss of the feel of Jason's cock—and comes to face Jason directly. God, in his sleep, he almost looks gentle. His brow is furrowed slightly, likely disappointed to have lost that nice warm thing, but the harsh lines of his typical expression are smoothed in a way that Prime catches himself gazing at.
Pretty boy.
All for me.
When he makes his first attempt at waking him, it's just a muttered calling of Jason's name. At the second attempt, he gives his shoulder a slight nudge.
The third attempt sees Prime lean in until their noses nearly touch, so the first thing Jason sees when his eyes roll groggily open is Prime's face in extreme close-up.
He hardly even startles. Prime wonders about him again, wonders if he's used to waking up in tricky situations.
The way Jason's eyes flit down suggests he's immediately aware of the hardness still present between them. Good.
"Hey Jason," Prime whispers, not doing a great job of keeping the delight out of his voice, "your dick's hard."
Jason squints at him for a moment, assessing, then huffs out a breath that Prime thinks is supposed to sound dismissive but ends up coming across as just a little too desperate to seem nonchalant.
(Prime knows the feeling well.)
"S'whatever," Jason mutters, voice rough with sleep, "I'll get rid of it. Go back to sleep."
He begins to rise from the bed, and Prime shoots a hand out to stop him with a perhaps slightly unfair exertion of strength. He loosens his grip apologetically, but doesn't let go.
"Okay, but like… what if you didn't?" He suggests, looking up at Jason half-risen with his lips parted and his eyebrow cocked. He needs to play this carefully, but he's starting to run out of patience when he knows Jason needs this just as much as Prime wants it. "What if we… y'know."
He raises his other eyebrow then, giving Jason his best, most suggestive wink-wink-nudge-nudge look. For all his awesome powers and kick-ass abilities, Prime is a big enough man to admit that he doesn't have a hell a lot of experience in propositioning guys for sex. He huffs out a breath of air, blowing a wayward curl off of his forehead, then fixes Jason back in his sights.
"What I’m saying is I wanna suck your dick. Thoughts?"
There's a moment where Jason doesn't move a muscle, he just stares down at Prime with an unreadable expression. It's blank, with maybe a slight edge of being pissed off, but in fairness Jason always kind of looks slightly pissed off. Prime keeps his hand around Jason's wrist and tilts his head to the side, almost like a challenge.
"…Christ," Jason finally replies, pressing his knee back into the mattress as he moves to lower himself down again, "you don't have a filter, huh? Every day I have to listen to you say every damn thing you think."
Prime, encouraged by Jason's seeming return, grins in response like the admonishment is something to be proud of.
"It's better than saying stuff just because some writer wants you to," he replies, and Jason's face darkens.
"Weird," he mutters, and he's moving even closer than Prime could have hoped for, stopping short just when he's kneeling in front of him. "Everything you say is so fucking weird."
Prime's grin doesn't falter. He juts his chin out, looking up at Jason with that cocky, self-assured air he knows ragebaits people like nothing else.
"Why don't you shut me up then?"
Jason's hand is palming his cock through his briefs, Prime realizes. Prime is offering and Jason isn't saying no, not even hesitantly considering, instead he's getting off on it.
What the fuck?
As much as he wanted this to happen, the shock of it actually falling into his lap is almost enough to make him waver. And falling into his lap is exactly what it's doing, as Jason nudges Prime's legs apart and slots himself between them.
"How much of this is just talk?" Jason murmurs, "You ever even sucked one before? I doubt it. Look at you."
Prime's brow furrows, and he's opening his mouth before he's even thought of his clever comeback, but Jason is dipping down between his legs and nuzzling his cheek right against his inner thigh and he thinks maybe, for once, now isn't the time for one-liners.
He leans back, settling on his elbow and propping himself up to watch Jason. He can't picture Jason being much more experienced in this than him, but he moves like someone who knows what he's doing. Prime was already getting hard just from knowing Jason was, but as hot breath warms over his crotch, the reality of what's happening sinks in and he gets so stiff that the bulge in his shorts becomes pronounced.
"You talk so much bullshit," Jason continues, voice low and hushed, eyes locked on Prime's growing erection, "even you telling me to shut you up is more bullshit. You don't wanna shut up, you want to listen to the sound of your voice the whole time you fuck me, huh? You know how many times this past week I imagined shoving my cock in your mouth just to get you to stop talking?"
If Prime was less hard, maybe that comment would have hurt a little. As it stands, all he can think is Jason wants his cock in my mouth.
But it's Prime's cock getting the attention right now. Jason mouths over him through the material of his underwear, eliciting a soft whine from Prime more from the sight of it, the reality of it, than the actual sensation.
Then Jason tugs down the band of his underwear and frees him, and sensation quickly becomes all Prime can focus on as Jason licks up his length with a low hum.
He isn't hesitant, doesn't seem to share whatever insecurities Prime is still trying to tamp down over his lack of experience. Jason's mouth is on him, then around him, and Prime has to swallow hard and dig his nails into the soft skin of his palms to keep himself from doing something really embarrassing.
He peeks down at Jason, at the top of his head now bobbing in his lap, and he's seized with a sudden grip of heated jealousy. Where did Jason learn to do this? Why is he so confident, so seemingly practiced? Who else has seen him like this, pleasing and vulnerable in a way he hadn't imagined getting him even in his fantasies?
Prime wants names. He wants addresses. He wants—
God, he wants Jason to keep doing exactly what he's doing. He tips his head back as a desperate moan parts his lips, unable to keep it controlled any longer when Jason's mouth feels this incredible.
So he's not the first. That's obvious enough. But he can make sure that he's the last.
He needs to get out of his head and into the moment. He reaches out a hand and steadies himself in Jason's hair, quietly marvelling at how soft it is. How real it feels. He shifts his grip to brush his thumb across Jason's forehead, clearing strands of white that have already begun to cling to his sweat.
Perhaps in response to the strange tenderness of it, Jason flattens his tongue underneath Prime, inviting him to slide deeper into his mouth and sending his hips rolling from the pleasure of it. He's practically humping Jason's face, rutting forward as Jason meets his thrusts like it's what he was made for. Does no one in this universe have a gag reflex, or is it just Jason?
Prime sucks in a sharp breath, his stomach tightening in warning. It's still too soon, but his lack of experience coupled with the way Jason is taking him like this has him fighting the reflex to cum right down his throat.
He can get hard again fast, he always does, even when it's just him alone with his hand. Kryptonian physiology is useful for plenty, but riding out orgasm after orgasm without wearing himself out is pretty high up his list. Even knowing that, he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to give Jason the fucking he deserves without making him think for a second that this would be over so soon.
As if somehow sensing his thoughts, Jason tips his chin up just slightly so he can look up at Prime. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there's something like a hint of challenge in his gaze even as he continues to suck Prime so hard he doesn't know how he's still lasting.
God, he wants to fuck that look off of Jason's face.
While his body protests the loss of the wet heat of Jason's mouth, hips involuntarily jerking forward even as he moves, Prime uses the leverage of his hand in Jason's hair to tug him off of his cock. His lips are red and a thin drip of spit hangs off of them, but Jason quickly wipes it away on his shoulder. Pity.
"We stopping?" He asks, and Prime has to suppress a groan at how wrecked Jason's voice sounds. Maybe he's not as big of a pro as Prime thought, or maybe Prime's just bigger than he's used to.
"Not stopping," Prime answers, trying not to feel embarrassed over the way his own voice comes out breathless, "you think I’m letting you quit so fast? Come on, Jason. It's just you've got another hole that needs attention."
Jason rolls his eyes, but it seems somewhat performative when he's resting his cheek back against Prime's thigh and licking his lips like that.
Prime wants to own this moment. His fingers are still tangled in his hair, and he's slowly becoming aware that, at some point between pulling him off and now, he had begun to stroke his head without realizing. The way Jason is looking at him has his stomach clenching, his cock twitching, his heart racing. He could stay here under his gaze forever, but then he wouldn't get to watch Jason fall apart under him, fully lose the distance he's been placing between them. And that just won't stand.
He leans back, stretching across the bed until he can reach his discarded backpack next to the bed stand. Maybe the lube and condoms he had shoved in the front pocket on an impulse purchase from a gas station a couple days back had felt a little presumptuous, but now he's pretty sure they'll be worth more than just the chance of Jason seeing him buy them. Jason is watching him closely, and as he straightens back into the bed, he swallows dryly. This is really happening, but he doesn't know what he should do next.
At least one of them has an idea of how this is supposed to go. Jason reaches for the lube and plucks it out of Prime's hands without so much as a word spoken. Prime watches, rapt, as Jason undresses out of those too-tight briefs, efficiently shoving them down until the two of them are kneeling before each other naked.
Prime is staring, unable to look away from Jason's cock now exposed and hard against his hipbone, but Jason has already begun to get to work. He squeezes lube into the palm of his hands and starts coating his fingers under Prime's lustful gaze, then presses them inside of himself slowly. Prime feels like the audience to some insanely dirty show, mouth dry and breathing heavy as he watches the way Jason works himself open. It's like he isn't even in the room anymore—like Jason can't see him, isn't aware of his presence, just stretching himself and making those quiet little grunts with no knowledge of his audience. Prime is struck with an old feeling of being stranded, watching the world unfold around him. Back then, he had felt helpless and frustrated, emotion building and building until he couldn't hold back anymore. Now, he's not going to let himself just be a spectator again.
He crawls forward and grabs the bottle from where Jason dropped it. It only takes a moment to slick up his own hand, dropping down to palm his cock for a moment as he takes in the sight of Jason alone one last time. Then Prime is on him, tugging his back against his chest and murmuring low as he presses a kiss to his shoulder:
"Looks beautiful," the words come out quieter than his usual bravado. "Let me."
Jason glances up at him, skepticism plain on his face, but that's fine. Prime has no problem proving himself to anyone. And even with that look, Jason still withdraws his fingers to allow Prime's to replace them.
He slides his thumb across his entrance, taking his time as he watches it disappear inside of him. Another finger soon joins it, circling around and exploring the feel of him.
He had easily imagined Jason would feel incredible on his dick, but Prime never anticipated him feeling this good just on his fingers. Jason is so soft inside, warm and wet from the lube, and as he begins to slowly spread them to stretch him out, Jason makes a sound that Prime could also have never anticipated. The moan sounds so unguarded that Prime is sure it's not a performance. He made Jason moan like that, the man who's been so reticent all week is finally at his mercy. He wants to hear him cry. He wants to hear him tell Prime he's been good.
He isn't sure if Jason is ready, but he hopes both of their combined efforts have been enough, because he doesn't want to keep waiting. Self-control has always been his weakness, and right now it's a weakness he's ready to succumb to.
He pulls his fingers out and wraps them back around his cock, further slicking it up, staring intensely at the way Jason's shoulders rise and fall from the effort of his breathing. The other man is facing away from him, but he can see the flush spreading down his neck, can hear the race of his heartbeat, can tell how much this is affecting him. Prime presses another kiss to his shoulder, then lines himself up and slowly begins to press inside.
"Take it easy," Jason breathes in warning, and Prime nods, realizes Jason can't see him nodding, huffs.
"Got it," he says, hoping the slight strain of his voice doesn't reveal the enormous effort it's taking him not to just thrust forward and fuck into Jason with an abandon that would likely leave him rendered permanently changed inside. But Christ, is it hard. Even just the head of his cock inside of Jason feels better than anything else he's known. He slides in further and lets out a groan as Jason clenches around him. The pressure of his body, all that muscle and bulk surrounding him, squeezes and shifts like he's being milked.
He doesn't breathe again until he's fully seated inside of Jason. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around Jason's stomach, and takes a moment. Jason feels so alive in his lap that Prime thinks he would let everything that happened back then play out again just the same if it meant Jason would still get to come back.
His one good deed. His salvation.
"You gonna move?" Comes Jason's voice, breaking Prime from his moment of silent worship.
"Yeah, shut up," he mutters, already grinding his hips so he can feel all of Jason surrounding him, "I’m being careful. You're human."
Jason lets out a low laugh, and he shifts his own hips back so the small of his back is pressed against Prime's stomach.
"Trust me. I've survived worse."
That's as good of an invitation as any in Prime's books. With his arm around Jason's stomach holding him in place, he pulls nearly all the way out before snapping his hips forward. Jason grunts but grits his teeth, and Prime could kiss him for how well he's taking him as he repeats the motion again.
Why hasn't he kissed him, he thinks? He's currently buried balls deep inside of him but he hasn't even kissed him yet. Prime hadn't exactly pictured rose petals and romance for their first time, but he can at least be more of a gentleman than this.
He reaches up his free hand and tilts Jason's head back, leaning in to meet their mouths together. Jason tenses for a moment but doesn't resist, and Prime takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth as he falls into a rhythm with his thrusts.
The kiss is deep and desperate, and it has Prime gasping against Jason from the heat of it. When he pulls back to give Jason time to breathe there's a strand of saliva still connecting them, and the sight of it only has Prime fucking him harder.
"Prime," Jason sounds wrecked as he calls his name, and that fact is so delicious that Prime nearly doesn't think to respond.
"Yeah?" He asks after a pause, once his brain catches up. His hips grinding into Jason stutter, but he doesn't stop.
"Didn't think you would actually shut up," Jason grunts, "I want to hear you."
Prime could burst from the feeling those words give him. He sucks in a breath, smoothing his hand down Jason's stomach, marvelling at the feel of his body.
"You're so fucking tight, Jason," he murmurs, "God, how are you so big but you feel like this inside? Like a girl? Like a fucking virgin?"
Jason groans, and Prime leans in to nip at Jason's bottom lip. Jason curses and Prime curses back until the sounds they make meld together, a mix of deep moans and cries as they rock together. Prime is barely pulling out now, not wanting to lose the feeling of absolute closeness that this rutting allows for.
He's not sure who gets there first. He doesn't know if the way Jason tightens around his cock pushes him over the edge, or the feel of Prime spilling into Jason is what caused the tightening, all he knows is that they're both panting and he's cumming deep inside Jason for so long he wonders if he might never stop.
He's still thrusting shallowly through it, and Jason seems entirely spent as he slumps back against Prime's chest. Prime holds his breath as he pulls out, wincing when he realizes that, in his excitement, the condoms were left forgotten. Oh well, he's pretty sure Kryptonians can't get human men pregnant.
Carefully, as if Jason might stop him if he realizes what he's doing, Prime adjusts his limp form to lay down with him, resting Jason's head on his chest.
Jason doesn't move. Prime lays there, eyes wide and focused on the ceiling, unable to believe the exhausted body on top of his currently leaking Prime's cum out of his hole is really Jason Todd.
"…My name's Clark, by the way," he says, once the silence that has settled in around them feels calm enough to allow for words.
"What?" Jason slowly lifts his head up, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow and tired eyes.
"You always call me Prime. It's cool. Everybody does. But my parents named me Clark."
Jason seems to consider this for a moment, deem it acceptable, nod, then lower his head back to Prime's chest.
"Clark."
He says it like an agreement, but Prime takes it as a vow.
"Clark," Jason says again, and Prime is revelling in the silent victory of the sound of his real name on Jason's lips when he continues. "Don't pull this shit with the beds next time."
Ah. So maybe his cunning plan didn't get him off entirely scott-free.
"What shit?" Prime asks innocently, and Jason reaches up to flick Prime's shoulder.
"Two beds tomorrow," he instructs, and Prime's face darkens at the admonishment until Jason continues, "if you wanna fuck me again, you don't have to try to trick me into it. You think I’m that stupid?"
Prime shakes his head, and his voice comes out annoyingly earnest when he replies, "No, I don't."
Jason glances back up at him, and Prime swears he can see something in his eyes soften, even if only slightly.
"…Good," he says, nodding once. "Two beds."
"Two beds," Prime echoes in agreement. Then, because he can never help himself when it comes to saying things he shouldn't, "does seem like a waste when you're gonna be spending all night in mine, but whatever."
Jason flicks him again, but he doesn't argue.
And to Prime, settling down with his arm slung around him and a smug smirk on his face, he thinks that's proof enough that he's made this crackship canon.