Work Text:
On top of everything else, Percy's acting fucking weird.
Charitably, it's been a long week. Uncharitably, it's been an absolute fucking shitshow. Just a disaster from top to bottom. On Monday, there was a shootout down at the docks. Tuesday, a drug swap that went sideways. Wednesday, figuring out who on the swap team fucking ratted. Thursday, finding a way to deflect those nosy fucking Bats from Gigante gang hierarchy drama. Friday, helping Sofia pick out place settings for the hospital fundraiser. Saturday is fucking packed: Schmoozing and boozing at said hospital fundraiser; avoiding whichever one of the Wayne schions was shipped off to cover this event; ignoring all the cases breathing down his neck; and handling whatever other upsets get thrown into his paths. Like, for example, Percy being fucking weird.
I don't even know why you bring him to these things, Sofia's said, approximately a million times and often right to Percy's face. It's not like Jason can't see where she's coming from—Percy is not exactly invested in the social nuances that come with these high society, high stakes situations. At his best, Percy Grant is a little off-putting. At his worst, it's like putting an understimulated predator in a room full of babies.
Unfortunately, Jason did marry him, which means that they are part and parcel; a package fucking deal. Besides, he cleans up fantastically well in a three-piece suit, and at this point, they know how to manage each other pretty well. Percy will take a breath to say something awful and Jason will kick him underneath the table to get him to shut the hell up. Jason will start winding himself up over nothing and Percy will slide a hand over his shoulders, and then over again to the back of his neck and down his collar; because the other thing about having Percy here is that he has this weird thing with Jason, suits, and getting Jason alone in some closet somewhere to do his level best to make Jason's tailor hate him. And Jason, well. He'd certainly let Percy do a lot worse. No wonder Sofia keeps on trying to get Jason to leave him at home.
But if nothing else, Percy is reliable. He'll look disgustingly good in the suit, he'll be there by Jason's side, and he'll find one or maybe two or possibly even three opportunities to pull Jason off into some shadowed corner and have his way with him, so to speak. Percy is reliable until a longwinded Saturday evening where he abruptly isn't, and then Jason is left disproportionately floundering.
He still looks good in the suit, because of course he fucking does. He still runs a hand along Jason's shoulders when Jason starts getting tense, which is often. But his hand doesn't wander down the collar. Not once does he make some theatrical gesture towards a hideaway while raising his eyebrows towards Jason salaciously. Instead, he listens and nods along to some heiresses' vapid explanation about her Bahama vacation, entirely placid and damn near polite. There is not a single snide aside, not even a private one for Jason's ears only. He is perfectly, almost inhumanly decent.
For the first half-hour or so of this, Jason is pleasantly surprised. They've gotten off to a better start than usual. By minute forty-five, Jason starts getting suspicious. By the end of the first hour, the suspicion calcifies into a feeling of oncoming dread.
It's just—weird. He's acting fucking weird; which is saying something because his baseline is pretty fucking abnormal to begin with. Is he sick, maybe? Handling some fucked-up work drama Jason was too busy to hear about? Or is there something Jason fucked up? Is there something he's looking for that Jason isn't giving him?
Anyway. Another thing to spiral out about. Add it to the fucking list. By the time the evening's winding down, Jason's skin is itching right off from his bones, and he was ready to go home about three hours ago and maybe it would have been nice to have a distraction in the form of a horndog husband hauling him off into the shadows, instead of spending the whole night analyzing every minute twitch of Percy's knee, pressed up against Jason's, and trying to figure out what it meant, if this was something Jason could fix.
"Great party," Percy is saying, breath fogging up in the chill night air. It wasn't a great party, because they're never great parties. Since when did Percy bother to partake in trivial social niceties?
They're waiting for the car to pull up. Sofia and Selina are waiting with them, even though they have some things—likely of the dubiously legal variety—to wrap up before they take their leave. Well, Selina is waiting with them. Sofia's using it as an excuse to stand outside and furtively smoke a cigarette. Jesus, what Jason wouldn't do for a fucking cigarette right now. Percy, strangely cordial as he is, probably wouldn't even say anything about it.
Before Jason can act out and ask Sofia to pass one over, she's acting up first. She smiles their way—a toothy, telling thing—and says, "Very good party. No shootouts, no upstages. Nobody causing any sort of scene or ruckus."
This last bit is unmistakably directed towards Percy, which is comforting, in an odd sort of way, because it means Sofia finds this suspicious too.
Next to Jason, Percy snorts. His hand wanders over to Jason's back, but it doesn't dip down to the waistband or further down to rest on Jason's ass. He just leaves it there on the small of Jason's back, a constant weight. Admittedly, it's pretty nice, but it's hard for Jason to pay attention to it when Percy hasn't even bitten something awful and suicidal at Sofia yet, when he's acting so far outside the norm.
"I had some other priorities I was focused on," Percy says finally. Sofia blows out a cloud of smoke pointedly. Percy wrinkles his nose—which is very charming, as an aside—but he doesn't even say anything about it.
"Oh," Selina says suddenly. Jason turns to her, startled out of his train of thought. She's got her knuckles lifted up to her lips, eyes narrowed conspiratorially towards Percy. "Oh, I see."
"Hush," Percy says.
Jason frowns. "What?" He asks. "What is it?"
But the car's pulling up, and Percy's pushing him forward. Selina waves them both off with, "Have fun."
Jason turns to Percy as he shuts the door behind them. "Do you know what that's about?"
It's a chance for Percy to fess up. A chance for Jason to step in, to right anything he's wronged. Instead, Percy adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, clicks his tongue, and says, "Nope."
There's no need to have—whatever they need to have out in the car, with the driver who's paid well enough not to tattle but will still be listening in to every word. It's mostly quiet on the drive home, like it usually is: Jason gets pretty wrung out after these events, and Percy's never minded it when Jason's quiet. If he needs to, he's more than capable of filling the silence on his own. For now, he seems content to let it sit. Plenty of time for Jason's ongoing spiral to twist up on itself, grinding against the curve of his skull.
Percy's knee is still resting warmly next to Jason's. At least there's that. After all, the evidence he's actually working with here is—what, exactly? Percy being perfectly nice and normal and average for a single evening? It's been a hell of a week, and his brain is spread thin and snapping like old, brittle latex. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe it is just Jason needlessly up in his head.
But then again, maybe he's bitched at Percy for leaving the the dishes on the counter one too many times. Maybe Percy wasn't really kidding the last time he poked at Jason for being a walking neurose. Maybe he watched the latest grainy news clip of Red Hood soaked in gunpowder and violence and decided that was enough for him. That he'd seen enough of blood and guts for a lifetime, that it was time for him to move on from it. From Jason.
Halfway through the drive, Percy's hand makes it way to rest over Jason's leg. By the time they're cresting around the last turn, it's all the way up his thigh, gripping tight.
"Almost there," Percy says, more to himself than to Jason, squeezing again.
Jason looks over at him. This is familiar—Jason looks at him a lot. He's very easy to look at. There's a single dark curl falling out of the carefully collected bun at the back of his head. His eyes are singularly dark in the streetlights, staring intensely up at the edifice of their apartment. Jason's gravity collapses around him, and without him, well. There wouldn't be much of anything at all.
"Yeah," Jason says finally. "Thank God." That, at least, is true and simple.
Percy squeezes at Jason's thigh one last time before his hand slips away. Jason thanks and tips the driver, and then follows Percy into their building and up to home. Already, Jason's shoulders are loosening, lessening some of the tension around his temples. He still has to have something out with Percy, he thinks, even if it is just Percy rolling his eyes and telling Jason he's being a dumbass. Jason would rather be safe than sorry, and he would certainly rather do it in the comfort of his own home.
The door shuts behind them. "Well," Percy says, light as he clicks the lock into place. "That was fun."
Jason whirls back around towards him. "What the fuck was your problem tonight?"
Percy twists to Jason with a wide-eyed look of surprise. He points at his own chest. "Me?"
Jason spreads a hand out. "You see anyone else around here?" He asks. "You've been acting fucking weird all night."
Another general gesture towards his own person. "Me?"
"Jesus Christ." Jason tilts his head up towards the ceiling. "Congratulations, you remembered how to be difficult. Now quit it; I don't need this right now."
"I would never be difficult," Percy lies, blatantly. "You must have me confused with someone else."
"This, right now," Jason says flatly. "This is you being difficult."
Percy shrugs, faux-innocent. "Whoops."
"And," Jason adds. "That's the first shitty thing you've said all night. What is wrong with you?"
"Okay, pause," Percy says, holding a hand in the air. "I act not-shitty in public, and your first assumption is that something is wrong?"
"Percy, anyone who's met you would assume that," Jason says, a little tired. Percy's face scrunches up. "And not only have I met you, I married you. That does give me some authority here."
"Not that much authority," Percy mutters.
"Fuck off," Jason says automatically. He digs a knuckle into his forehead, Percy watching all the while. "Listen. All I'm trying to say is if something's—if I fucked up, you have to tell me what to do—"
"Okay," Percy says easily. "Get on your knees."
Jason blinks and he's staring down at the ground. His kneecaps ache in a way that promises future bruises, because he hadn't been thinking about anything beyond the firmness in Percy's voice, how perfectly actionable the command itself was. Percy said Get on your knees and Jason's first and last thought had been to fucking drop. He has to crane his head up to look at Percy now, who's looking down at him with his head tilted to one side and lips tilted up with it, crooked canine sitting sweetly in his mouth.
"That was good," Percy says.
"Uh-huh," Jason says vaguely, and then, "You son of a bitch."
It had been Jason's idea, is the thing. Jason had been the one who had the thought, unformed at first and then coalescing into something worth verbalizing. Jason had been the one to do frantic and frankly mortifying research, and Jason had been the one who had so very casually engineered an opportunity to suggest it. Embarrassingly, Percy had laughed when Jason had first brought it up, before he'd taken another look at Jason's face and said, in a tone Jason had never heard from him before: Oh my God. Not the most auspicious start, but that's just about typical for them, isn't it?
At the end of the day, there's nothing revolutionary about the concept at all: Percy will tell Jason to do something and Jason will do it. Percy will take on a certain tone, a certain set to his shoulders, and Jason will react to it. There's not anything for Jason to think about, nothing to be aware of outside of Percy's voice and his hands. It's heady. It's all-consuming. It's something they've played with in bits and pieces, which is not the same thing as Percy turning to Jason and telling him to drop as casually as making small talk about the weather.
And yet here Jason is. On his knees.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Jesus, Jay," Percy is saying. It takes Jason a second to refocus, blink back up at him. "I just thought, you know. It might be a nice thing to come home to. Was I wrong?"
When he puts it like that, the train of thought he must have been following clicks into place: Let it all build up. Sit with it and sit with it and let it simmer and boil, so the inevitable release is that much sweeter. Jason looks up the length of him—the lean muscles in his thighs, the curve of his jawline, the sharpness of his grin. The erection straining through his pants. His fingertips come up to brush away Jason's stark white bangs, and Jason finds his eyelashes fluttering in place. No, he wasn't wrong at all.
"You've been handling a lot lately," Percy continues, voice dropping lower.
He's not supposed to notice, but somehow he always does. Jason shrugs. "Part of the job," he manages.
Percy just hums, his hands still in Jason's hair. "Can I help you?" He says finally. There's a tightness coming up into Jason's throat, and he has to swallow hard. "Let me help you. Just let me handle it, okay?"
If Jason were anywhere else, he would have to think it through, consider all the variables and potential upheavals. Here, the answer is easy. He's already nodding. "Okay," he says. Above him Percy exhales shakily. "Okay," Jason repeats, and then, "What do you want me to do?"
Something in Percy's face shifts. It's not cold, exactly, and it's not unwelcoming. Jason would call it the face of a man who knows what he wants and who knows that he's going to get it. That Jason is going to give it to him. Unyielding. An involuntary shudder works its way up Jason's spine as Percy tilts his head again, settles into place, and looks down at Jason consideringly.
"Take off your suit jacket," he says.
There's no room in his voice for Jason to poke or question. Jason's voice hitches in his throat as he says, "Easy enough," and peels the jacket off of his shoulders. The air is cool through the thin silk of the dress shirt, prickling into his already overheated skin. Percy didn't tell him to do anything with the jacket, so Jason leaves it on the floor. Looks up at Percy and waits for whatever comes next, lifting an eyebrow expectantly.
Percy taps underneath his own collar. "Tie."
Jason works fingers into the knot and pulls it loose, letting it slide to the floor next to the jacket. "Tie," he echoes. Percy hums, but he sounds pleased. "What now?"
"Wow," Percy teases. "Somebody's eager."
"You're the one who unilaterally decided on celibacy," Jason reminds him, and then, to end the self-imposed streak, he lifts himself into Percy's crotch to mouth at the swell there. Percy's fingers tighten in his scalp, pulling him away before he can get any traction.
"Not yet," Percy says, and his tone doesn't brook any room for argument. Jason chews hard on the side of his tongue to keep the automatic complaint from slipping out. Not yet means later, maybe even soon. All Jason has to do is wait for Percy to get them there. "Take off your shirt."
There's something shitty Jason could say here, he knows, but he can't quite scramble enough braincells to put it together. All he can do is work at the buttons on his shirt, slipping in between his sweaty, fumbling fingers. The hand in Jason's hair tightens and Jason looks up, automatically.
"Slower," Percy tells him. "I want to watch you."
So Jason slows. Works each button out of place carefully, deliberate. He only steals occasional glances at Percy—still in the carefully tailored suit that accentuates every perfect line, looking at Jason with those dark, deep-set eyes—but he can feel Percy's gaze on him anyway, burning a flush into Jason's collarbone and flooding down his shoulders. He finally gets the last button undone and slides it down over his shoulders to rest unceremoniously on the floor. When he looks back up at Percy, Percy's smiling at him again, hand carding through Jason's hair.
"Good," he says. Jason shivers like he's caught a chill, but he's never been less cold in his life. There's the prickling in his scalp, where Percy's fingertips brush over his skin, diffusing down into the flush settling over his cheeks and further still along his collarbone, pooling along the line of his spine. He's more of an amalgamation of heat than a functioning body.
Jason lifts himself up towards Percy's erection again, but this time he holds himself there; looks up to Percy and waits.
Percy's hand hovers over his belt buckle. This close, Jason can see and nearly smell the damp spot of precome already beading there. All Percy needs to do is say—
"Wait here," Percy says suddenly, stepping past Jason and out of his space.
"What?" Jason says, blinking stupidly, turning and reaching towards him. "Perce—"
Percy's hand again, this time on the back of his neck, pushing his head down. Not rough, but firm. Jason's breath pitches out of him and yet. He doesn't move. Stays in place even when Percy pulls his hand away.
"I said wait here," Percy reminds him. "Don't move."
The heels of his dress shoes click against the floor as he leaves Jason kneeling there, overheated and breathing hard. Don't move. When Percy puts it like that, it's very simple. It settles over Jason's shoulders, keeps him still and rooted to the spot even as he hears Percy moving around in the apartment. There's the click of the heels again, along with the sound of something dragging along the floor, but Percy said not to move, so Jason doesn't.
The dragging stops, and then there's the sound of fabric shifting. Then silence. Jason keeps still.
"Jason," Percy says finally. It takes a second for Jason to look at him. He's lounging in one of the dining room chairs, leaning his cheek on his palm. Jason should be bitching at him about scratching up the tile, but all he can think about is Percy's thighs stretched wide, the fabric pulled tight over the bulge in his pants. "Look at you. You stayed right there."
"You asked," Jason says.
"I didn't ask," Percy corrects.
No, he didn't. Jason has to swallow once, twice, before he can say, "You told me to."
Percy's grin spreads wide over his face. "Good," he says, and there's that shiver in Jason's spine rising back up, vertebrae melting together. Percy taps at his knee. "Come here."
Of course Jason will. It's just a matter of getting there. Standing is a tall order, his head weighted on his shoulders. Standing and then kneeling in front of Percy again is another split-second of delay—too much time to waste. Instead, he lets his upper body fall forward, braces himself on his palms. Slides himself closer to Percy on his hands and knees, crawling inch by excruciating inch.
Percy inhales sharply, shifting in his seat as Jason crawls closer. "Jesus," he mouths. Jason is coming up between his legs now, forcing his thighs wider apart. "That's good," he's saying. "Jesus, Jason, that's perfect."
The salty smell of his precome is certainly apparent now as Jason tongues helplessly over the fabric. Another sharp breath, and then Percy is pulling Jason's head away. Jason makes an involuntary, frustrated noise in the back of his throat.
"I know, baby," Percy says gently, thumbing away the crease in Jason's forehead. "Christ. You want my dick that bad?"
There's already saliva pooling in Jason's mouth, and his voice is wet and throaty when he finally manages: "You know I do."
Percy adjusts the fabric over his erection with a shaking gust of air. "Well, gee, when you put it like that." His hands are over his belt, pulling the buckle loose, but when Jason lifts a hand to help, Percy tugs hard at his hair again. "Wait."
Jason can feel his heartbeat in his teeth, thready and impatient. He lets his head fall to the side, rests his burning cheek on Percy's thigh. Percy's pulse throbs against Jason's jaw. Jason tilts his head into it, is rewarded with Percy's palm brushing over his forehead. With his other hand, Percy pops open the clasp on the dress pants and tugs the zipper down. Jason is hit with the scent of his sweat, and has to press his face into the seam of Percy's pants to keep some terrifically embarrassing noise from escaping him.
"There we are," Percy says, finally, and he directs Jason's head up from his thigh. His cock looks painfully hard, dark at the tip and still beading up with precome. Jason watches as a drop runs down the shaft. But when he goes in to taste it, Percy's fingers twine hard into his scalp, holding him there. Jason's exhale comes out high and pitchy. "I haven't said anything yet, have I?"
"Percy," Jason says helplessly.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," Percy says. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?" Of course he is. He always has. His fingers trace soothing circles over Jason's scalp as he continues. "I'm going to need you to say please, though."
Jason's mouth goes dry and then wet. It takes a couple of tries to work his voice up into something audible. He's so close, so fucking close, and all he has to do is give Percy a single word.
"Please," he says. Swallows again. "Percy, please?"
Percy's fingers scrape through Jason's hair one last time. "That's exactly it," he says, and Jason's shoulders fall forward in relief. "I've got you, okay? I've got you."
And with that said, he guides Jason's head forward. Jason only has a half-second to let his mouth fall open before Percy's sliding it onto his dick, hand cradling the back of Jason's head all the while. Percy lets out a satisfied, gratifying hiss. Jason lets out a conspicuous moan, starting high and than settling into something more content.
"There you go," Percy says. Jason can't say good or thank you, so what comes out instead is another settled noise that makes Percy shudder above him. "Yeah, that's it. Keep that up."
Jason likes this part. The heavy, familiar weight of Percy on his tongue, coming up against the back of his throat; the salt settling into the crevices between his teeth; the perfect sounds Percy makes when Jason hollows his cheeks around him for the first time. It's a hell of a view from down here—Percy's still in the full gala get-up, put together except for a handful of dark curls that slip from the carefully gathered bun. He's gazing down at Jason with his mouth slanted fondly to one side, looking on as Jason absolutely wrecks himself on Percy's cock.
"Good," Percy tells him, even if his voice satisfyingly cracks in the middle as Jason rolls his tongue around the head. He snorts softly to himself. "Remember when you didn't even know how to suck dick?"
Jason frowns, makes to pull away to defend himself, but Percy just pushes him to task with a reprimanding click of the tongue. It works its way through Jason's body, starting up by his shoulders and quivering down through his ribcage, a welcome reminder of what Percy needs Jason to focus on; which is in turn a reminder of his own erection, suddenly painful as it presses against the zipper of his pants.
Instinctively, Jason moves his palm over to the bulge, letting out a quiet sound of relief at the sweetness of the pressure there. But before he can palm down further, find some of that oh-so-necessary friction, Percy is sliding his shoe deep into the space between Jason's knees.
"You're not doing that," he says coolly.
Jason doesn't recognize the sound that comes out of his own mouth. High, plaintive, like a starving dog kicked in the stomach. Percy tempers it by carding a hand through Jason's hair, but he doesn't take it back.
"That's not what you're focusing on right now," Percy continues. His shoe is still in between Jason's legs and, deliriously, Jason considers grinding down into it. "I told you I would take care of you. You don't have to worry about any of that."
Slowly, Jason nods. All he has to do is focus on what Percy's laid out in front of him—keep his mouth wrapped around Percy's shaft, take in the precome steadily dripping down his throat. He presses his tongue against the head warmly, lovingly, and Percy makes a startled noise, jerking his hips up into Jason's mouth.
"Shit," he says, caught off-guard. "Shit, Jay."
It's intoxicating, hearing Percy's voice shake like that, knowing that Jason gets to be the one to do that to him. Hoping that Percy will do much, much worse later. It's a push for Jason to take Percy down deeper, until his breath comes out wet and strangled. Percy's hip twitch up again. Jason leans back into it, catching Percy's eye and trying to nod. Trying to say please without saying please.
"Oh, fuck," Percy says, like Jason's knocked the wind out of him. "Like this?"
He thrusts up into Jason's mouth, emphatically. It pulls another needy noise out of Jason. His dick aches against the fabric of his pants, but Percy said not to touch so he won't. Can't. Instead, he lets Percy fuck into his mouth over and over, which is almost as good. Percy's hand is steady on Jason's scalp, keeping Jason in his place.
"That's—" Percy starts, and then breaks off with a stuttered gasp as Jason manages to slide his tongue across the shaft. "Jesus Christ, that's perfect. You're perfect—"
His next thrust makes Jason groan again. Percy seems to feel it all the way up into his spine, shuddering as he curves himself over Jason. His hand is twining and tugging at Jason's hair sharp enough to hurt, his pace getting sloppier and sloppier.
"Close," Percy pants out. "Jason, I'm close."
The hand in Jason's hair loosens, giving Jason the space to pull away. Jason shakes his head as much as he can manages and pushes himself forward one last time, taking Percy in even fucking deeper; so deep he's choking for it, gagging, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes. Percy's giving so fucking much for him—the least Jason can do is give it right back.
Percy thumbs at the corner of Jason's mouth. He's still curled over Jason, so Jason can't see his face, but he sounds faintly awed when he says, "Fuck, baby."
And that's it for him. The next thing Jason knows, Percy's coming explosively into Jason's mouth, leaving Jason to swallow it all down desperately.
Percy, still breathing hard, presses a kiss to the crown of Jason's forehead.
"Okay." He exhales, finally pulling Jason off of his softening dick. "Jesus, Jason."
"That was—" Jason starts, cutting himself off to cough, swiping at his wet mouth with his palm. His voice still sounds hoarse and used when he gets it back and says, "It was good? Percy, was it good?"
"Yeah," Percy says distantly, wiping some of the come and spit that's gathered at the corner of Jason's mouth. "Yeah, Jay, oh my God."
He slides a hand underneath Jason's jaw and tilts Jason's face up to kiss him, fiercely. Jason opens up to it, lets Percy's tongue slip inside.
"It was good," Percy tells him, pulling away to press another kiss to Jason's forehead. "You were fucking perfect."
Jason nods, blinking the tears away. "Okay," he says, and then he lets his head fall forward into Percy's chest. "Thank you."
Percy's lungs expand and contract, shaking in place. He takes a bracing beat before he asks, "Did you touch yourself?"
Jason shakes his head. "No," he said. "You asked—" He stops. Swallows. "You told me not to."
Above him, Percy lets out a slow, long sigh, fingers shaking where they rest in Jason's hair. "Good," he says again. He pulls Jason back, hooks his knuckle underneath Jason's chin. "I said I would take care of you. Remember?"
"I remember," Jason says, voice still hoarse.
Percy squeezes at Jason's chin, just once, before he says, "Stand up."
Jason's legs feel hollow, shaky; but he does. Now he's the one looking down at Percy while Percy looks up at him. Jason knows he's a mess—bare chest flush; hair rucked up around his head; lips slick and red; eyes still damp. Percy, on the other hand, looks as pristine as he did going into it, but as Jason watches he undoes the bun on the back of his head, letting his hair tumble down to his shoulders.
He touches a knuckle to Percy's forehead, hesitantly, and Percy blinks up at him again. He rests a hand over Jason's waist. Presses his mouth just over Jason's navel, like a promise. Jason's breath pitches out unstably, and he has to balance himself with a hand in Percy's hair.
Percy sighs against Jason's stomach before he stands up, flicking invisible dust from his pants. "Come on," he says, putting a hand to Jason's shoulder. Jason moves when he pushes. The hand migrates up to grasp at Jason's neck—not hard, but not gentle either.
Time drips away, sluggish and sweet. Jason blinks and he's standing in the bedroom. Percy told him to stand there and stay still, so he's standing here and staying still as Percy peels his pants off his legs for him, pressing his mouth to seemingly every line of muscle he can. Sometimes his teeth as well, dull pinches that make Jason prickle and shiver all over. By the time Percy's standing in front of him, looking over his work, Jason is full-body shaking.
"Almost there," Percy promises, pressing a kiss to Jason's shoulder as he slides behind Jason. "On your hands and knees."
Jason shudders as he crawls up onto the bed. Percy's hands are on his ribcage and then his back, pushing him forward and then holding them in place.
"Beautiful," Percy mutters, squeezing at Jason's shoulders one last time before he steps away. Jason lets out a low, involuntary noise, but Percy shushes him. "Hold on a second, sheesh. Wait for me there."
Jason has to lock his elbows to keep them from shaking, but he does. He can hear Percy's labored breathing behind, the sound of fabric shifting. When Jason finally cranes his head back to look, it's to the sight of Percy stripping off his shirt. Jason gets so lost in the finely earned lines of him that it takes him a second to realize Percy is staring right back.
"Fuck," Percy hisses, picking up the pace.
He's naked in what has to be record time, and when he comes around to rifle through the bedside table for lube, Jason can't help but notice he's already stiffening up again. He loses sight of Percy when he walks back behind Jason, but the absolutely obscene sound of the lube squelching out of the tube is enough to make Jason groan, tilt his head towards the pillows. The groan pitches up as Percy circles a teasing knuckle around the rim.
"You know what I need from you, yeah?" Percy asks, sounding winded.
Just the thought of what has to come next is so overwhelming that it takes Jason a second to work anything coherent into his mouth; and even then it's just a thin rendition of Percy's name.
"I need you to ask for it," Percy reiterates, still with the maddening drag over Jason's rim. "I need you to say please."
One breath, two breaths, before Jason is finally able to do what Percy asks of him. "Please," he says, panting. "Percy, please."
And thank fucking God, Percy does, pressing a kiss to Jason's spine as he slides a finger inside. Jason gasps triumphantly, clutching at the bedsheets.
"There we are," Percy mutters, crooking the finger inside him. "Is this good?"
Is it fucking good, he asks. Jason can't stop making these short, sharp gasps, ratcheting up into a keen when Percy gets around to slipping a second finger in.
"Fuck," Percy says. He glides a steady hand up Jason's spine. "Fuck, Jay, Jesus."
From there, it's the steady push and pull of Percy working in and out of him. It's not too long until Percy slides another finger inside, making Jason dip his head down into the pillows, breath hiccuping conspicuously. In and out, back and forth, until he's worked Jason right up to the edge.
But it isn't enough. The sweet, painful pressure builds and builds in his gut and just stays there, simmering with nowhere to go.
"Perce, come on," Jason tries, although every other syllable comes out as nothing but air. "Percy, it's ready."
Percy's hand comes down to his hip, gripping tight. "Hold on," he says, slightly muffled, like he's saying it through gritted teeth. "I call the shots around here, remember?"
Jason makes a pitchy, frustrated noise, pressing his forehead to the bedsheet before he rocks back onto Percy's finger, trying to get the last bit of friction that he needs.
"Hold still," Percy tells him, squeezing at Jason's hip tight enough to bruise, tight enough that Jason can feel his wedding ring digging into the bone. Jason keeps himself motionless, even if his arms and legs shake with the effort.
"What if—" Jason starts, and he has to gulp air back into his lungs as Percy scissors him open. "Fuck, what if I said please?" Percy's pace stutters, just slightly. "Percy, tell me to say please. I'll say it—"
"Holy fuck," Percy says, sounding dazed. The wedding ring is still digging into Jason's hipbone. "Okay. Fine. Say please."
"Please," Jason says instantly. "Percy, please."
"Fuck," Percy says again, and then: "On your stomach."
Jason drops down onto the bed. Percy steps forward towards the nightstand, where they keep a box of condoms, but he stops when Jason starts shaking his head frantically.
"Leave it," he says. "We don't need it. It'll take too long." Percy wavers for a beat too long. Jason lets out another frustrated noise. "Percy, come on—"
"Okay," Percy says quickly, coming back behind. Jason sighs in instinctive relief as Percy's familiar weight settles over him, as Percy kisses and nips at the back of Jason's neck, as he lines up his cock against Jason's entrance. "You said please for me."
Jason hums vaguely. "Whatever you want." That's the goal, that's the point of it all. Of everything.
"I have what I want," Percy says, voice strangely raw, and then he pushes in.
Jason is surrounded by him—over and under and all the way through, Percy and Percy and Percy, heat and relief and release welling up into his chest. He can't even get a full moan out, stretched and full all the way up into his throat.
Percy's voice is breathy over his ear. "You're doing so well, baby, did you know that?"
He whines as Percy pulls out, only for it to choke off into nothing when he thrusts back in. There's that pressure, low in his gut, coiling up as Percy fucks in and out and in again, punching incremental, tight noises out of Jason.
Percy bites underneath Jason's ear. Jason lolls his head to the side willingly, lets Percy mouth at his cheekbone. Percy slides a hand between the mattress and Jason's pecs, squeezing fondly.
"Ha," Jason manages, but even that gets fucked out of him with the next thrust. "Perce—"
"So good," Percy repeats, right against the side of Jason's throat. His hand slides down, down, brushing over Jason's already slick dick, and—
Jason shouts, the pressure exploding up and over and out as he heaves into the bed and comes, so violently that he has to blink hard to clear the violet spots in his vision.
"Shit," Percy's saying, through a haze, like Jason's only just now coming out of the water. "Oh my God, Jason—"
He shifts above Jason, like he's about to pull out, and Jason's brain kicks back into gear just enough to panic.
"No, no," he says, words tumbling over each other. "No, no, don't, keep going."
"Holy fucking shit," Percy says above him, so quietly Jason barely catches it.
"Keep going," Jason says again. "Don't stop."
Percy's breath catches and shivers right over Jason's ear. His throat clicks in the dark, and then: "Say please."
Jason's whimper comes out of him in broken, needy fragments. "Percy."
"You know what you need to do," Percy tells him, stroking a quivering hand over Jason's shoulderblades. "You've already done it. I just need to hear it one more time."
Fuck. Fuck. Jason doesn't know if he has enough left to give Percy what he needs—the only thing he's cognizant of right now is that Percy has to be with him; has to be closer than close; has to be knit up in his ribcage. That's the only thing that matters, so when Percy makes to shift away again, Jason cries out, voice cracking open.
"One more time," Percy repeats firmly. "Jason."
And Jason fucking breaks.
"Please," he chokes out, and his voice is shaking so much it's barely a word at all, but if Percy needs to hear him say it, he'll say it, say fucking anything— "Percy, please, please, Percy, please, I—"
Percy delivers, slamming into Jason so hard that the rest of Jason's pleading falls into an unabashed, open-mouthed moan, and then again when Percy refuses to let up the pace.
"Fucking perfect," he hisses, before he bites down hard into Jason's shoulder.
Every drag pulls against nerves Jason didn't even know he had, and every push back in sets them all alight. Jason is made of pure sensation—Percy's cool fingers gripping at his ribcage; his warm, wet mouth over Jason's neck; his cock, moving in and out of Jason and taking every other thought Jason could have with it. He doesn't know what kind of sounds he's making. Only that his mouth is continuously thrown open, as Percy slides into him over and over again.
"Keep going," he manages, in the spaces of lucidity between Percy's thrusts. "Percy, keep going—"
"Anything," Percy says above him, voice thick. Another thrust. Another full-blooded noise from Jason. "Fuck. Jason, turn around. Turn around—"
Jason maneuvers himself around; a haze of awkward, reshuffling limbs and small, shocky gasps as Percy's dick twinges out and then back into him. Percy's hands are at his side and then his hips, helping him twist until he's braced over Jason, with Jason staring up at him helplessly. He has to blink a haze out of his vision, and it's only then that he realizes he's been crying.
Above him, Percy's face clears and cracks open into a grin. Jason's seen the sun rise up over the city about a million times, and he's seen Percy smile like this about a million more. The impact of it never lessens. Jason looks at it and remembers, that's right. That's what it's all for.
"Hey," Percy says, still grinning, eyes glinting down at Jason like he's thinking the exact same thing.
"Hi," Jason says back. Bewildered, as always, that they somehow made it here. He tilts his face up towards Percy, and Percy gets the message, bends down to slot his mouth sweetly over Jason's, like they could keep it like this for the rest of the night.
And then he's fucking moving again, and it's all Jason can do to hold on. Jason's dick is already back to half-hard, coming up to brush against the planes of Percy's stomach as he shifts above Jason, as he comes down to nip new bruises into Jason's collarbones. His breathing grows short, ragged—he must be getting close.
"Come on," Jason gasps out, bringing his legs up to squeeze Percy's ribs. Percy groans, biting back down into Jason's shoulder. "Come on, I want you to—"
"Shit," Percy pants, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Jay. Are you close?"
"I'm not—" Jason tries, and then cuts himself off with a frustrated moan. Yes, he's half-hard, but he doesn't know if he has what it takes to come again, wrung dry as he is. "You, it's about you—"
"Fuck off," Percy says, which makes Jason laugh, however strangled it may be. Percy slides his palm up against Jason's and Jason's hand falls open automatically, with Percy's fingers sliding up in-between, grasping tight. His other hand goes right down towards Jason's dick, which makes Jason arc up with a shout. "I'm not coming until you do."
Jason whimpers as Percy's palm works up and down the shaft, up and down. "I don't know if I—"
"You can," Percy says simply, and this go-around he times the hand over Jason's dick with his next thrust. "Do you want to know why?"
The answer is right on the tip of Jason's tongue as he squirms underneath Percy's unrelenting touch. "Because—"
"Because I told you to," Percy says. "You're going to come because I told you to come."
"Oh my God," Jason says, and just like that, he does, all over Percy's hand and the expanse of his chest. Percy curses and then drops down over Jason with one last shuddering thrust, squeezing their clasped hands together. "Percy. Oh my God."
Percy hums, pressing his forehead against Jason's shoulder. Jason stares up at the ceiling, still blurred with tears, and wills the feeling to come back into his extremities. Holy fucking shit.
"Holy fucking shit," Percy says, a perfect echo. He pulls himself out of Jason, slowly, but it still pinches a noise out of Jason. Percy tempers it by kissing the side of Jason's shoulder, starting in on a laugh halfway through. "Jesus Christ, Jay."
It's Jason's turn to hum something vague, throwing an arms over his eyes. His face is soaked with salt—how long had he been crying?
The thing about having Percy fuck him like this is that there's no way for Jason to channel his emotions, habitually tumultuous as they are, into any kind of self-motivated action—he's simply doing as he's told. Which means it's up to Jason to feel everything that comes to him as it comes: Exhilarating, unwieldy, and inevitably crashing down hard. Luckily, Percy is there to gentle the fall, dragging a knuckle over Jason's scalp as Jason gradually settles back into his body.
"Made it back to planet Earth yet?" Percy says sweetly, because first and foremost he is an asshole. Jason cracks an exasperated eye open towards him, but Percy just laughs and kisses Jason's forehead. "Aw, there you are." Jason bats him away. "Yup. There's the asshole I married."
"Shut up," Jason grouses, but when Percy bends down to kiss him again, Jason blossoms up into it. Sweet and unhurried, until Jason is melting loose-limbed into the bed.
"Good?" Percy asks, still half-into Jason's mouth. "Feeling a little better?"
Percy just fucked him to tears and he has to audacity to ask if it was good. "You're unbelievable," Jason tells him honestly, before he lifts himself back up into Percy's mouth. They trade lazy, languid kisses until the come drying on Jason's chest and in-between his thighs starts to stick in a way that's grating as opposed to sexy. Percy pulls away, and before Jason can even open his mouth to complain, he's saying, "Yeah, yeah, I know. We'll get you cleaned up."
He pulls Jason up from the bed and then steadies him when, in a mortifying moment of post-coitus, Jason's knees actually give out on him. Percy, of course, gets a kick out of this, and so Jason kicks him back. But it's futile, because Percy's still snickering to himself as they slip into the bathroom. He finally steps away from Jason to fiddle with the shower faucet, and Jason takes a moment to examine Percy's work in the mirror.
His neck is mottled with red, already turning over to purple. When Jason twists around, he's greeted with about a hundred more marks, including the vivid outline of Percy's teeth in his shoulder. A mark on his hipbone too, indented in the shape of Percy's wedding ring. More bruises, trailing all down his back, all the way down to—
"Hey, hon?" Jason calls out. Percy makes some wordless, responding noise. "You want to tell me why your bite profile is on my ass?"
Percy turns his head towards Jason sheepishly. "I mean," he says. "Would it even really be my fault?" And then, "Holy shit, is all that me?"
Jason looks at him flatly. "You see any other piranhas around here?"
Percy rolls his whole head just to make sure Jason gets the point, giving Jason a middle finger as he steps into the shower. Jason snorts and shakes his head before he follows in after.
It's a relief to wash off the sweat and perfume of the party, and then the sweat and come of the afterparty. Halfway through shampooing, Percy notices the ring-shaped bruise he left on Jason's hip. Taps a hand against it, then eyes Jason up and down thoughtfully.
"No," Jason says instantly. "Don't even think about it."
Percy sputters. "Did I say anything?"
"Do not," Jason repeats.
"I didn't even say anything!" Percy argues incredulously.
This carries them all the way out of the shower and back into the bedroom. Jason has to pick up the clothes strewn all over the floor, which includes walking all the way out into the entryway and picking up the jacket, shirt, and tie Percy had him ditch right off the bat. Wrinkled to all hell, but Jason can't bring himself to regret a thing.
When he slips into the bedroom again, Percy is changing the sheets, focusing on getting the elastic over one corner. Jason leans into the doorframe and watches him—in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of their shared hoodies, hair loose and damp. He catches Jason looking and narrows his eyes.
"If I don't do this," he says. "You're going to bitch about wet spots all fucking night."
"I could have lived with it," Jason says. Percy screws up his face doubtfully. "You didn't have to."
Percy shrugs, turns his attention back to the bed. "I don't mind."
Of course. That's Percy for you—he'll bitch and moan and put up a fuss, but every time he gets the opportunity to help someone out, he'll do it. He won't even think about the alternative. Even after all this time, Jason finds new ways to love him every day.
He comes up behind Percy to rest his chin on top of Percy's head. Percy makes a vaguely annoyed noise as he throws the flat sheet over the bed, but does nothing to actually shake him off. Jason leans down to kiss his cheek.
"You're very good at this husband thing, you know," Jason murmurs.
"You're only saying that because I fucked the sass out of you," Percy murmurs, but he twists his head so he can kiss Jason full on the mouth, swallowing down Jason's laugh.
"Okay," Jason says, putting on an indulgent tone. "If that's what you think happened."
Percy turns to face him, incredulous. "It's not what I think happened," he says. "It's what I know happened. I was there, Jason." Jason hums as aggravatingly as he can manage. Percy sighs in disappointment, which is pretty ineffective because he's trying not to smile. "You are such an asshole."
"You're the one who married me," Jason points out. "What does that say about you?"
"I was conscripted," Percy says flatly. "I didn't have a choice. You forced my hand."
"Uh-huh," Jason says, and then he topples them both forward, ignoring Percy's ungraceful squawk as they crash into the bed.
"Jason, get off," Percy hisses, batting uselessly at Jason's shoulder. "I can't breathe—"
"It's so nice and comfortable here," Jason says, but then Percy knees him, hard and bony, right up into the ribs. "Ow, okay, Jesus Christ—"
It's a trial to shift up into a more socially acceptable sleeping position; in part because it really is very nice and comfortable here, and Jason remembered exactly how exhausted he was as soon as he went horizontal, and in part because Percy hooks his ankles around Jason's and then apparently decides they are going to stay that way, come hell or high water. Not that Jason is doing or has ever done a whole lot to push him away.
Eventually, they get settled, Percy's legs still solidly tangled with Jason's, his head pillowed against Jason's biceps. Jason blinks, heavily, with Percy's face blurring in the moonlight.
Suddenly, Percy says, "So here's my question."
"Oh boy," Jason says dryly. "Here we fucking go."
"You seemed a little nervy earlier," Percy continues heedlessly. "A little antsy about our relationship status, specifically, maybe—" Jason scoffs, thudding his forehead down into Percy's shoulder. "So I guess my question is: Were you under the impression that I was somehow breaking up with you?"
"I mean," Jason says, after a self-conscious beat, but before he can even try to explain his admittedly scattershot thought process, Percy is letting out a loud, bright shout of laughter, gripping at Jason's chin and tilting it up to plant a cartoonishly obnoxious smacking kiss to his cheek.
"Nope," Percy says easily, and despite the condescension of it all, it loosens the last twist of tension in Jason's stomach. "Never ever, baby boy, you are the best I am ever going to get and they are going to have to drag me away kicking and fucking screaming."
"You are such a pain in the ass," Jason tells him, even as he lets his head fall back into Percy's shoulder.
"There's a lot I could say to that," Percy snarks. "I hope you know."
"Mm," Jason says. He presses a kiss down to junction of Percy's neck. "Your restraint is commendable."
Percy's knuckle traces a soothing line down Jason's jaw before he says, "Also. Just so you know. You're taking the day off tomorrow."
"Really?" Jason says, amused, lifting his head back up. "I didn't know Sofia put you in charge of the Gigante crime family."
"I'm in charge of you," Percy retorts, and to prove it, he flashes the wedding ring Jason's way. Jason snorts, turning his face into the pillow to ineffectively hide his loose, ridiculous grin. "That was basically the whole point of her forging that marriage license for us. She was delegating."
"I don't think that was it," Jason says.
"Shush," Percy says. "You have the day off tomorrow." His hand migrates up against Jason's scalp and Jason hums something vague and boneless, letting his eyes slip shut. "I'm taking you out to breakfast, and then we'll find one of those used bookstores of yours that violates every fire and safety law on the books—"
"They have character," Jason says, eyes still closed.
"Shush," Percy repeats. "You'll buy a bunch of shitty paperbacks you'll never get around to reading—don't make a face, you know it's true—and then later we'll make out a bit and fuck around a little more and for twenty-four hours, you're not going to worry about fucking anything. And if you do try worrying about something, I'll sic Mom on you." This gets Jason to bring his eyes open again, slightly panicked. Shannon Grant is not someone to mess with. "Jesus Christ, calm down, I said if."
"It sounds like a nice day," Jason says.
"It will be," Percy says, so easily that Jason has no choice but to believe him. He squeezes at Jason's chin. "I love you. You overworked piece of shit."
Jason barks out a hoarse, surprised laugh. "You're a piece of shit," he says, and when he opens his eyes, Percy is grinning wide and unapologetic. "You always do this." In an admittedly wobbly impression of Percy's voice: "Oh, I love you, you're the love of my life, you dumbass fuckface idiot shithead—"
"Somebody has to keep you humble," Percy says, still smiling.
There's a familiar warm swell in Jason's chest, a fondness so intrinsic and overwhelming all Jason can do is sit with it, for a second. Impulsively, he grabs at Percy's hand, brings it up and presses his mouth against the wedding band.
"I love you," he says.
Percy inhales, sharply, before he says, "I love you too."
"You already said that," Jason points out.
"Fuck you," Percy says, bringing his heel down into Jason's thigh. Jason snickers into the pillow. "I call you a piece of shit because you are a piece of shit—"
"Yeah, yeah," Jason says, and for all Percy's bitching, he doesn't put up much of a fight when Jason tugs him closer so his head is resting flush against Jason's chest. "We both are. That's why it works."
Percy scoffs performatively, but his shoulders relax under Jason's palm. "Congrats on the self-awareness. Maybe there's some hope for you after all."
"Mh-hm," Jason says, pressing a kiss to Percy's temple for good measure. And then, "Thank you."
"For what?" Percy asks, with a slight lilt of surprise.
Jason tucks his chin overtop of Percy's head and thinks on it for a second. "Being there."
Percy snorts. "Yeah, it's been a real trial," he says dryly. His grip on Jason tightens. "But you know. You're welcome."
At twenty, Jason was convinced he would die—as in actually die; go away somewhere and never come back; fall asleep and never wake up; experience the consequences of his fucking actions for once—before twenty-one. Maybe he would make it to twenty-two, if he was really unlucky. At some point, he thought, the universe had to get bored of yanking him around from wound to wound. At some point, it would bleed him dry.
At twenty-one, he met Percy Grant. Somehow, that changed everything. Now, at twenty-six, he wakes up every day to Percy's cold hands unsubtly sneaking up his shirt; to worn-through arguments about whether or not the baggy hoodie Percy's wearing initially belonged to Jason; to the wedding ring sitting snugly on his finger, glinting in the light; to a sense of satisfaction so complete and unexpected that sometimes Jason just has to let it all crash over him before he can move on. It's not something he ever takes for granted.
He means to say something along the lines of thank you again, even if it opens up a new opportunity for Percy to mock him; but instead, he finds himself exhaling along Percy's scalp, head sinking into the pillows. The exhaustion of the last week and the last hour or so of extended activities hits him all at once.
"There we go," Percy says, sounding amused as he runs a soothing hand up and down Jason's spine. "Sleep tight, baby."
And as soon as he says it, Jason knows he will.