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Damian took in a deep breath, breathing in the wet night air of downtown Metropolis. Unlike in Gotham, the air smelled like rain and not much else, just the hint of pollution and grime in the wind. Metropolis had always been cleaner and more palatable to the average civilian than Gotham.
Personally, Damian thought Metropolis lacked character.
He was hiding out in the shadows of an alley, staring at the entrance of a Metropolis nightclub that was popular with the local youths. It was also known to be favored by one Jonathan Kent, son of Lord Superman, also known as Superboy.
Damian smoothed down the front of his Robin costume, the black and gray fabric of it already clinging to his skin tightly enough that there weren’t really any wrinkles to smooth out. He told himself he wasn’t nervous, he was only... waiting for the right moment.
Superboy had entered the nightclub forty-five minutes ago, and was likely to be busy right now; it was in Damian’s own best interest to wait until the fool had had time to get comfortable and relaxed. Damian needed him in a good mood tonight; though, it seemed likely that Jon’s mood would turn good anyway, once he heard Damian’s proposition.
The neon sign of the club was blinking at Damian in a taunting invitation. He'd been staring at it for several minutes now. Damian closed his eyes; he could still see the outline of the sign burned into the insides of his eyelids.
Batman had been captured earlier today. A spattering of his still-remaining enemies had teamed up and managed to catch Batman unawares enough that they’d been able to knock him unconscious. Damian and his brothers had spent the entire evening and night looking for him, and they’d managed to track down several of the perpetrators.
They all swore up and down that Batman wasn’t in Gotham anymore, and all signs pointed to that being true. Two-Face revealed that they’d already sold Batman forward to Ra’s Al Ghul.
Armed with that knowledge, Drake had finally managed to get a ping from Batman’s subdermal tracker and found out that Batman was currently being held in Nanda Parbat, under several levels of protection, held at gunpoint so that if someone even tried to rescue him, Ra’s would rather kill Father than let him go.
None of that was good. What was even worse was that they’d found out that Ra’s was planning to hand Batman over to Superman in return for being granted asylum from Superman’s war against criminals. That meant they were on an extremely limited timeframe, too limited to stage the sort of time-consuming rescue operation that extracting Father from Ra’s would’ve necessitated. They had no idea if Ra’s had already attempted contact with Superman or not; their best hope was that Grandfather would be too cautious to give away his location to Superman carelessly.
Damian knew Nanda Parbat intimately, having grown up there. He also knew exactly how to get Father out of there, but he couldn’t do it by himself, or even with his brothers. He needed a more powerful ally.
That was why Damian was here.
Damian smoothed down the fabric of his suit again, glaring at it under the harsh neon-colored light. It looked fine, right? Jon had seemed to like the suit fine before, not that Damian had ever understood why; it had been made for practicality and infiltration, not for aesthetics.
Damian hadn’t told any of his brothers he was coming here. He knew they would’ve protested. But no one had any better ideas. Todd and Grayson were piecing together a haphazard plan of recapturing Father once he’d be transported, but that plan relied too heavily on Superman not just killing Batman where he stood. Drake had his own plans, maybe similar to the ones Damian had, but the clone wouldn’t be as much use. Everyone knew Kon-El's loyalties oscillated depending on who could curry his favor that day; usually, it was Drake. As a result, Superman kept a closer eye on him.
Damian straightened out his perfectly straight suit one more time before forcefully pulling his hands away. He’d wasted enough time already; it was now or never.
Damian jumped out of the shadows and crossed the road over to the nightclub, his stride even and confident, his head up and expression blank. The bouncer at the door was too shellshocked to see a wanted fugitive march into the club to try and stop him. Good for him, Damian would’ve broken his arm if the man tried to get in his way.
Superboy was easy to spot. The table he was sitting at was the only place in the whole club that wasn’t entirely packed with people. Everyone wanted to give the son of the dictator ruling over their lives a respectfully wide berth.
Jon was reclined over on his seat casually, his legs spread wide open, and a beautiful young woman perched on his lap, making disgustingly sappy eyes at the Kryptonian. Jon was running his fingers through the girl’s hair, only sort of paying attention to her, his eyes flitting over to the dancefloor more than once. Damian had found out from his research that while Jon welcomed company on nights like these, he didn’t usually seem to bring the young men and women home with him, more interested in dancing and having a good time while he was here.
Jon had always been a social creature.
Damian saw the moment Jon spotted him, the other boy’s eyes widening in surprise, a small disbelieving smile rising to his face like he had a hard time believing what he was seeing.
Damian walked over to Jon’s table and stopped a foot away from him.
Jon tilted his head, and his eyes swept Damian’s body up and down, lingering on his chest and thighs for a moment.
“Wow,” Jon commented lightly, a sharp smile playing on his handsome face. “Come to give yourself up, Robin?”
Damian scoffed. “Hardly.”
The woman in Jon’s lap tittered uncertainly when Jon squeezed her a little closer to himself, all of his attention on Damian. Just like always.
Jon’s eyes were half-lidded and smoldering, filled with a dark amusement Damian had learned to be wary of back when their fathers had still been allies. “So, this is more of a social call, then. What makes you think I won’t just arrest you here and now?”
Damian set his jaw, widened his stance, and didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t anything to say. He had several Kryptonite weapons hidden in his suit, but if he used them, he could kiss any hope of Jon’s co-operation goodbye. Not to mention, if he actually managed to kill Jon, Damian’s plan would go totally out the window.
“Huh. You’ve really got nothing, do you?” Jon leaned forward, gently setting the girl off his lap and shooing her to leave them alone. Not that the attempt at giving them privacy really meant anything; the whole club was staring at them, at the two powerful threats standing among them like they belonged. The grin slowly spreading over Jon’s face was downright predatory. “You’re really desperate.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “I need to talk to you in private, Superboy.”
Jon smiled and patted the seat cushion next to him. “Come take a seat then.”
Damian eyed the offered seat stiffly. Technically, this was what he’d come here for, but he wasn’t happy about getting up close and personal with Superboy in public. These people would gossip; Damian could already see from the corner of his eye phone cameras being pointed in their direction. If Damian sat down, practically in Jon’s lap, where the girl had just been, the whole world would know about it by the next morning.
“I thought you came here to talk about your dad,” Jon said, voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the crowd. His eyes were dancing with mirth. “I think you're running out of time here, Dami.”
Damian forced back a flinch. Jon’s words confirmed that Ra’s had already contacted Superman. That was bad news.
Damian kept his chin up and refused to show any weakness, even as he walked across that tiny distance still separating him from Jon and sat next to him, now only inches away from the boy. They hadn’t been this close to each other for months; the last time had been in battle, Damian had stabbed Jon with a Kryptonite blade through the palm of his right hand. Jon raised that same right hand now, Damian could see he still bore the scar, and wrapped it around Damian’s waist, drawing him flush to himself.
“You’re not even fighting back or anything,” Jon marveled, quietly enough that they couldn’t be overheard. His fingers were squeezing almost painfully into the soft skin of Damian's waist. “I really never thought you’d let me do this to you.”
“You know about Batman,” Damian said, decidedly ignoring Jon’s teasing.
“Yeah, your grandfather captured him, I heard. He’s negotiating with my dad about the terms of Batman’s surrender as we speak.”
“Yes.” Damian swallowed, his next words came out reluctantly, tasting like ash in his mouth. “I need your help to free him.”
Jon chuckled. “And why would I do that? You know I’m loyal to my dad.”
Damian turned in Jon’s embrace a little, enough so his face was hidden in the boy’s neck, so that not even a lipreader would be able to tell what he was about to say. “You’re so loyal, you keep letting criminals get away,” Damian whispered into Jon’s ear.
Damian felt Jon’s entire body stiffen; the smile dropped off his face.
Lord Superman deemed people criminals on the slightest of charges. It wasn’t just protesting or unlawful gatherings that he took offense to these days; he couldn’t tolerate even the mildest of comments against his regime. The fates of criminals varied from lobotomization to imprisonment. Superman was too busy to deal with all the criminals himself, so when an issue required a high-ranking member of the House of El, Superman often sent his son in his stead. Damian had found that not nearly all of those criminals got the punishments Superman would have demanded of them; relatively often, they just got a firm order to obey the laws from now on before they were sent back to their homes. Obviously, this was something that wouldn’t make Superman happy to find out.
“You’re so clever, pretty bird,” Jon murmured, cupping the back of Damian’s head so he couldn’t move his head away from Jon’s neck. “But do you really think there would be any real consequences for me even if Dad found out?”
Doubtful. At most, Jon would get a slap on the wrist and wouldn’t be allowed to carry out the punishments on criminals anymore. Tattling on him would only be a net loss for humanity, and they both knew that.
“No. That’s why I’m here to provide you with an incentive to help.” Damian tilted his head backwards, so he was looking at Jon through his bangs. From the hungry look on Jon’s face, it was an effective strategy. “Myself.”
Jon huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Yourself?”
Jon would take the deal. He’d wanted Damian for years, since they were much younger than now. When their fathers were both still Justice Lords on the same side, Batman had advised Damian to keep his distance from Jon; according to him, nothing good could come from encouraging that obsession. Damian had obeyed, for the most part. But still, Jon had never made his attraction a secret.
Jon loosened his grip on Damian’s hair and instead lifted his chin up with a sweep of his inhumanly strong fingers. “You know,” Jon said softly, tracing a finger across Damian’s throat. “People don’t usually have to be forced to get into my bed. It’s kind of a point of pride for me.”
Damian knew that, too. Jon wanted him to want to sleep with him.
Jon was quite handsome, with his high cheekbones and strong jaw, and the costume that clung to his every muscle like it was painted on. Damian had certainly slept with less attractive partners before.
“Think of it as a business transaction. We both get something out of this.” Damian raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Besides, this is the only time I’ll ever make this offer. Are you sure you want to turn me down?”
Damian craned his neck back a little bit more, giving Jon an easier view of his body. Jon’s eyes traced the line of Damian’s neck like he wanted to sink his teeth in it.
“So, your dad’s freedom for your body. A one-time deal. That’s the proposition?”
Damian nodded. “That’s right.”
“It’s just, I don’t think you understand how much I want you,” Jon said, snaking both his hands under Damian’s thighs and hoisting him up until he was perched fully in Jon’s lap, practically grinding on each other. Damian could feel the civilians’ eyes burning a hole in his back; there were flashes of light, and the sound of camera shutters was audible even over the music. Jon grinned wickedly, enjoying how uncomfortable the publicity was making Damian. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Damian held himself rigidly, his hands on Jon’s shoulders for balance. He really hoped Jon didn’t want to fuck him in this club where everyone could see him, because he actually wasn’t up for that.
“Yes.”
Jon brought his face just inches apart from Damian’s, his hot breath washing against Damian’s lips. Jon grinned again, sharp and interested. “Prove it, little bird.”
Damian leaned in, closing that last bit of distance between them, and brought their lips together. Jon gasped into his mouth, like he really hadn’t expected for Damian to keep his word.
Damian was far from an inexperienced kisser; he figured if Jon wanted him to prove his willingness to go along with this, he might as well make the show good. Damian dragged his hands into Jon’s hair and yanked hard, hard enough that for a human it would’ve pulled out hair. Jon just made a startled sound, his eyes widening a little; Damian was pretty sure he barely even felt the pressure on his scalp. Damian took Jon’s lower lip between his teeth and worried at it with enough force to bruise. Jon leaned into it, melting into Damian’s touches.
Jon liked to talk up a big game, but he sure did look happy with Damian on top of him.
Damian pulled back, leaving Jon panting hard, his lips swollen and red.
“Now, can we talk about the specifics?” Damian asked wryly.
“Fuck,” Jon groaned. “You’re torture.”
Damian yanked Jon’s hair again, making his eyes flutter in clear pleasure for a moment. “Focus. You’ll go free Batman, and then you can have your way with me.”
Jon detangled Damian’s fingers out of his hair, probably to be able to focus on the conversation more fully. “Not quite, Robin. If I rescue Batman first, there’s no guarantee you’ll hold up your end of the bargain.”
Jon tried to lace their fingers together, but Damian pulled his hand back, dismayed. “Have you ever known me to break my deals?”
“I think you want to so desperately be loyal to your dad that you’d play the dead fish routine with me just in hopes of making him proud. Since I’ll only get one go at this, I want you to be invested.”
Damian considered it. It wasn’t ideal to make Batman wait for rescue, but Ra’s wasn’t one for rushing into deals with powerful entities out to get him. He’d drag the negotiations out, see how much he could get Lord Superman to promise him in return for Father. The chances of Ra’s actually finalizing any kind of a deal with Superman tonight were practically nonexistent.
“Fine. But once we’re done, you’ll follow my plan.”
“I figured you had one of those. Can I trust that if I go along with you, my dad won’t find out about my involvement?”
Damian rolled his eyes; how on Earth did it take Jon this long to ask about that? “Naturally.”
Jon relaxed a little under Damian, some tension Damian hadn’t even noticed bleeding out of his posture. Jon had thought Damian’s plan might’ve revealed his betrayal to Superman, and he’d still been willing to go along with it? Interesting. Damian would definitely note that down for later.
“It’s still a big risk I’m taking for you, little bird.” Jon cupped the side of Damian’s face and looked deep into his eyes. Damian thought he might’ve been using his X-ray vision to see under Damian’s mask. Damian had never before noticed the flecks of yellow ringing Jon’s irises. “So, if I’m doing this, I want you for the whole night. Alright?”
That part wasn’t a big surprise. Damian hadn’t really had high hopes that Jon would just be satisfied with a quick blowjob in the men’s bathroom.
“Deal,” Damian agreed.
Jon pulled him into another kiss. Damian broke it quickly, irritated to be filmed doing it.
“Are you done with the exhibitionism yet?”
Jon laughed and bucked his hips up a little, grinding them against Damian’s ass. He leant over to nibble at Damian’s ear.
“What do you think they’re reading into this?” Jon asked, and Damian could feel the edge of his grin against his cheek. “That we’re lovers? That you’re changing sides? What do you think?”
“I think you’re wasting your night,” Damian hissed and pushed Jon back until he relented and leaned back in his seat. His hands fell to Damian’s thighs, running up and down them like he was unable to keep his hands off of Damian now that he finally had an opportunity to touch him. “Unless you just wanted me for some public necking?”
Jon’s blue eyes darkened, and for a moment, Damian could’ve sworn he saw a hint of red in there. “Oh, don’t worry, pretty bird; I want you for a whole lot more.”
Damian slid out of Jon’s lap and turned his back on Jon, trusting the other boy to follow him out. He did, walking so close that Damian could feel his body heat at his back.
“I’m guessing you have a destination in mind?” Jon asked, voice light and amused. “I mean, I could always take you back to the Watchtower, but you might not like the accommodations there so much.”
No, Damian suspected he wouldn’t, either. If he ever took a step into the Watchtower again, Lord Superman or Lady Wonder Woman would have him thrown in a cell in a second.
“I have a safe house near here.”
“A safehouse? In Metropolis, Superman’s hometown?” Jon laughed and shook his head fondly. “Of course you do. I should’ve seen that coming.”
Damian had more than one safehouse here, actually, not that he was going to tell Jon that.
“You should’ve. Keep up, Superboy.” Damian shot out a grapple and used it fly to the roof of the building opposite the nightclub. Without turning back to see if Jon was following him, Damian took off, using a combination of acrobatics and grappling skills to run and glide from rooftop to rooftop. Wind in his hair and the darkness as his cover, Damian finally felt that awful tightness in his gut loosen up. It always came with being stared at by a crowd. Damian knew in his very core that the Bats weren’t supposed to be observed. They were creatures of the night.
Jon kept pace with him easily, flying at Damian’s side like he belonged there. Jon was the best flier in his family, better even than his father, because he was more skilled at making tight turns and following after unpredictable prey. Damian had almost been captured by Jon more than once; if he wanted to escape Jon, Damian usually had to resort to dirty tricks.
Damian led Jon to his safehouse near the edges of downtown Metropolis, where the busy main streets started bending into a classy, overpriced residential area. He had a safehouse that was much closer to the nightclub, but Damian didn’t want to reveal that one to Jon; it was too useful for reconnaissance. Besides, this safehouse was better suited for staying hidden from a Super. The older area meant that despite the heavy rent the residents were charged, not all the buildings were totally up to code. Damian had found himself a basement apartment in a building that still had most of its original lead features intact. He’d done work on the apartment after buying it, adding more measures to make sure no one could spy on him, at least with super senses.
Jon whistled as Damian let him in through the front door.
“You’ve really outdone yourself, Damian. Did you really build a freaking dungeon in my city?”
Damian shrugged modestly. There were bars on the windows, and he’d turned one of the closets into a functional holding cell that was designed to be able to hold even Superboy for a limited time. It was a shame the place was burned now that Jon had seen it, but Damian didn’t want to risk being overheard tonight. Besides, he had other safehouses.
Jon took in the apartment with a critical eye. He was playing up the wide-eyed surprise, but Damian knew he was cataloguing everything he saw and committing it to memory to help find any other bases Damian was hiding from him in the future. Superboy was no idiot, even if he liked playing one sometimes.
Damian locked the door behind them and turned on the security systems. If anyone approached them tonight, Damian would have a good deal of advance warning.
By the time Damian turned around, Jon was gone, and the door to the bedroom was open. No surprise there.
Damian stalked through his own apartment, silent and near invisible in the dark. There was a thrill of something bubbling inside him, something almost like excitement. The light in the bedroom was on, and Damian stopped at the doorway, hesitating for just a moment more.
Jon was sitting on the bed, looking at Damian with a look of such intense anticipation that it made Damian’s heart want to beat a little faster.
“Come over here,” Jon ordered.
Damian obeyed and finally crossed the threshold. Jon reached out and pulled on Damian’s hands, fitting him between the Kryptonians' spread thighs. Like this, with Jon sitting and Damian standing, Damian was finally taller than the other boy. But the control here was firmly with Jon.
Jon had said he wanted Damian to be invested, and that he was. Damian trusted that Jon wouldn’t go back on his word, but if he thought Damian wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain, he might deem the deal null.
Jon ran his hands down Damian’s chest, yanked at the red and black collar of his suit like he was testing if the fabric would stretch.
“I always liked your old suit better,” Jon confessed, his voice pitched low and intimate. “Red, green, and yellow were a good look on you. But the new one isn’t bad either.” He traced the outline of the R on Damian’s chest. “I’m really glad you kept the knee-high boots, though. I’ve had so many fantasies about those things.”
Damian looked down at his feet, at the black leather boots that reached up to his mid-thigh, laced up with red string. “So you’ve told me.”
One time, Damian had had Jon in a chokehold, his legs wrapped around the boy’s throat, and Jon had gotten so flustered that Damian had managed to knock him out with a shard of Kryptonite. Another time, Damian had gotten momentarily captured by Jon, and the boy had spent the entire time he had Damian trying to persuade him to ‘wrap his thighs around Jon’s head’.
Jon smiled and reached up for Damian’s mask. Damian fought the urge to flinch back, the reaction to being unmasked so automatic it felt like a violation to let someone do this to him.
Jon traced a nail under the outlines of the mask, gently and patiently working the entire perimeter of it. Damian’s breath hitched at the feel of a nail passing right under his eye, and Jon’s smile turned smug for a second.
“Starting to feel vulnerable already, little bird?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kent.”
Jon managed to loosen the mask enough that he could get a grip on one of the winged edges at Damian’s browbone. Jon started peeling the mask off, exceedingly slow, so careful that all Damian could feel was a mild sting as the glued-on mask was ripped away from his face.
Colors came into sharper focus as the whiteout lenses were removed, and Jon’s expression turned from hungry to nearly awed. “There you are, Damian.” Jon smoothed a gentle thumb over the still-stinging skin around Damian’s eyes, pausing momentarily at the corner of his eyes, like he was wiping away a nonexistent tear. “I haven’t seen your real eyes in years. I forgot how green they were.”
Damian fluttered his lashes mockingly. “Did you just want an excuse to gaze deep into my eyes, Jon? What would Superman say?”
Jon grimaced slightly. “Okay, new rule: no more mentioning my dad tonight.”
Damian smirked, figuring he had to take his victories where he could get them.
Jon didn’t seem to mind Damian’s mocking much, just gave a tiny snort and a shake of his head. Jon put the mask aside and reached over to run his hands through Damian’s cape, the silky yellow-and-black fabric streamed through his fingers like water. He unbuckled the cape from Damian’s shoulders, and it fell away, pooling at his feet. Next, Jon’s fingers slid from Damian’s shoulders to the bright red buckles at the chest of Damian’s costume.
“This feels like Christmas morning,” Jon mused. “Like I’m unwrapping a present I’ve spent a long time waiting for.”
“You’re certainly taking your time with it. I always thought you’d be the type to just rip your gifts open.”
Jon slid the buckle open almost teasingly slowly. “You’re too pretty to rip open, Robin.”
Jon traced his fingers down the line of Damian’s breastbone, down to his abs, and finally stopped at his waist, at the buckle of his utility belt.
“I’m guessing this is boobytrapped?” Jon asked, fingering the hook of the buckle gingerly. Damian felt the boy’s fingertips ghosting over his belly button, touch featherlight and just shy of ticklish.
Damian scoffed. “I’ve already turned all the traps of my suit off. Otherwise, you’d be a pile of Kryptonian goo on the floor by now.”
He was exaggerating; the suit was capable of doling out electric shocks that would’ve mostly just slightly stung someone of Jon’s physiology. Though there were some clever kryptonite traps included that Damian had decided to leave deactivated tonight.
“Well, aren’t you a considerate lover, pretty bird.” Jon pulled on the belt, momentarily tightening it even further, before letting it loose. It joined the cape on the floor.
Jon grabbed Damian’s right hand next and brought it to his mouth to plant a kiss on his knuckles. His hands slid lower to Damian’s wrist, while his mouth planted kisses down Damian’s fingers until his teeth bit onto the tiny bit of loose fabric at the tips of Damian’s gloves. Jon held eye contact with Damian as he pulled his head slowly backwards, dragging the glove with him, the bare skin of Damian’s wrist being revealed inch by agonizingly slow inch. Damian was mortified to realize his cock was beginning to stir in interest. Jon had barely even touched him yet.
“For fuck’s sake,” Damian huffed. “Just let me undress myself and let’s get this over with already.”
Jon turned Damian’s hand over and rubbed a thumb over the veins of his wrist as he gave the glove a final yank and pulled it entirely off. Jon smiled smugly through the red fabric dangling from between his teeth.
“What’s the rush?” Jon gave his bare knuckles a kiss before dropping the right hand and grabbing the left one to repeat the process. “Desperate to get to the good part already?”
“I’m getting bored,” Damian said. He had a very good grasp of his autonomous reactions; nothing in his pulse or heartbeat should’ve given away the lie, but Jon still smiled at him with a knowing look, like he knew everything that Damian wasn’t saying.
Jon threw the second glove to the ground to join the first, landing just a little bit further from the other articles of clothing. He grabbed Damian’s ass with both hands and dragged him forward so suddenly that Damian almost toppled over. Jon tilted his head backwards, his chin resting on the crease between Damian’s pecs.
“Don’t worry Damian; I’ll definitely get to fucking you soon. But since I’m only getting one shot at this, I’d better make the most of it, right?”
Jon’s right hand came to play with the hidden zipper of Damian’s tunic, pulling it down ridiculously slowly, clearly just teasing Damian at this point. His left hand was roaming over Damian’s body, giving his ass a firm squeeze before moving upwards, from his waist and up his back to his side where it seemed to delight in dragging over Damian’s obliques and abs.
“You’ve got muscles I didn’t even know existed,” Jon mused, never once breaking eye contact with Damian. The zipper had only moved down a couple of inches, just barely passing the red V-shape of his tunic. “I know you Bats have crazy workout routines, but do your ribs really need to have their own abs? Or does your lot just do it to look sexy?”
“We don’t do anything just to look sexy.”
The zipper receded past Damian’s chest, and Jon’s eyes trailed downwards, taking in all the skin being exposed. “So, it just comes naturally, then. I’d say it was unfair if I didn’t enjoy looking at you so much.”
The zipper reached Damian’s belly button now, and Jon’s questing fingers dragged over his abs, digging in hard enough to leave red marks behind.
Finally, the tunic fell open, and Jon yanked it off his shoulders, leaving just the sleeves on so that Damian’s hands were caught behind his back uncomfortably. Damian started to shake the cloth off, but Jon gave him a wicked smile and, in a burst of incredible speed, reversed their positions so that Damian was suddenly lying back on the bed with his arms trapped under his weight, Jon caging him in with an arm on either side of his head.
Jon bucked his hips forward and Damian could feel the man’s hard cock ride against his thigh.
“This is a good look for you,” Jon said, his voice just shy of a groan. His hands couldn’t seem to leave Damian’s skin, still running small circles over his chest and stomach. Damian squirmed from discomfort at the sensation of nails digging into his skin, not hard enough to cause injury but hard enough to leave marks. “Half naked in my bed, with your hands tied up behind your back.”
Damian refused to be cowed and instead brought his thigh upwards, grinding it against Jon’s erection. “And yet you’re still wearing all of your clothes. I’m starting to think you have no plans of fucking me after all.”
Jon laughed. “Careful, pretty bird.” He drew away from Damian and sank down to his knees on the floor, between Damian’s legs that were still firmly planted on the ground. “If you keep rushing me, I’ll start to think you’re looking forward to this.”
Jon circled one of Damian’s thighs in both of his hands, stroking at the sensitive skin on the inside of Damian’s thigh, near his groin. Damian was definitely starting to get hard, now.
Jon slid his hands a little lower, until they came to a stop mid-thigh, where he fingered gingerly at the bow tying Damian’s boots closed.
“Love these goddamn boots,” Jon sighed. One of his hands pulled the ribbon open and started loosening the red laces slowly, carefully, like he intended to spend the whole night just on this. At the same time, his other hand was running down Damian’s calf, and Damian could just barely feel the pressure through the boot as his leg was groped with single-minded passion. “They reach all the way up to your ass; make you look like sex on legs. Ever since I first saw these, all I’ve been able to think about is having your legs wrapped around me.”
“You really haven’t been shy about letting me know that,” Damian said, making sure to keep his voice extra dry to cover up how his heart wanted to start beating faster. It was taking a considerable amount of concentration to keep appearing calm. “I think everyone knows about your fetish by now.”
Jon gave his thigh a hard squeeze and finally began to pull the boot off, with the sort of intensity that was usually reserved for worship. “Could’ve gotten yourself some new shoes if it bothered you.”
“Guess I could’ve.”
The boot snagged on Damian’s knee, and Jon had to pause to pull on the laces again before the shoe could be convinced to slide any further.
“It must take you hours to lace into these things,” Jon murmured.
Damian rolled his eyes. Jon was exaggerating.
The shoe was finally off, and Jon looked a little sad to see it go. “I might have you wear nothing but these later on.” His eyes clouded over with lust for a moment. “Yeah, I really like that idea.”
“If you keep going at this pace, morning will roll around before you ever get that far.”
Jon reached out to untie Damian’s other boot, this time giving the laces long, firm tugs, less interested in keeping the teasing pace. “There you go again, rushing me. Eager much, Damian?”
“You’re full of wishful thinking, Kent.”
Damian squirmed as Jon pulled the other shoe over his thigh and calf, trying to free his arms from the shirt. It was starting to feel uncomfortable lying back on his arms like this. Jon intervened, pressed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, and pushed him firmly back into the mattress until he couldn’t move his hands at all.
“I think not. I already told you, I like you like this.” Jon lined their bodies together, his weight pressing Damian into the mattress even more, kissing him deep so Damian’s protests were cut off.
And suddenly, the soft mass of the mattress closing in on him, wandering hands roaming his body without him having any way to stop it, was all too much. Damian panicked; he bit down on Jon’s lower lip with all he had.
Jon withdrew, blinking in surprise. His lip wasn’t even hurt, even though Damian had used every bit of his strength.
“Let me up!” Damian hissed, fury and fear warring in his voice.
Jon backed up quickly and allowed Damian to sit up and chuck off the tunic.
“Don’t restrain me again,” Damian bit out viciously. That was the best he could do here, just ask Jon to respect his boundaries and hope he actually would. If he didn’t, there would be nothing Damian could do about it.
Jon looked startled and just the slightest bit remorseful. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, the wavy curls clinging to his fingers.
“Uh, here.” Jon threw Damian his utility belt.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You’ve got some kryptonite weapon hidden in there, right? How about we even the playing field a little? Pick something.”
Damian had three kryptonite daggers hidden in various places in his suit, along with one kryptonite ring, a small set of kryptonite darts, and a small vial of aerosolized, liquid kryptonite. Damian only hesitated for a moment before pulling one of the knives out of the belt, in the front belt for easy reach, and also as the obvious decoy, should enemies ever get the opportunity to search him. The other weapons were much more well-hidden.
The knife was hidden in a lead sheath, so it really didn’t have an effect on Jon in its current state. Jon still eyed it with clear dread as he took it from Damian.
“Okay. So, let’s just put it here.” Jon set the knife down on the nightstand, in easy reach of Damian. “So, if I try to do anything you find, like, way too much, you can just stab me.”
Damian let out a choked sound. “That’s putting a lot of trust in me, Jon.”
Jon grinned, a little steadier now that he wasn’t touching the knife anymore. “Well, I figure you really don’t want me dead before I save Batman, right? This puts us at more equal footing.”
Damian supposed that was true. Jon could still do more or less whatever he wanted to Damian, as per their agreement, but if Damian found he couldn’t take it, he at least had a way out of the situation. Civilians had safe words, vigilantes on opposing sides of a war needed something a little more substantial.
Damian relaxed back onto his back. “Okay. You can get back to groping me now. Unless you’d rather just stare at me the whole night.”
Jon chuckled, clear relief in his voice, and leaned over Damian to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “I can do both, can’t I?”
Jon fumbled for the waistband of Damian’s pants and popped the button over. His hand slid under Damian’s hips and grabbed a handful of his bare ass.
“Yeah, this is pretty nice,” Jon whispered with a sharp grin.
He shoved Damian’s pants and underwear off with none of that teasing slowness from earlier. Now he was kneeling over Damian, a knee planted firmly on either side of Damian’s waist. He was still fully clothed, while Damian was buck-naked.
Damian took a good look at the boy on top of him. Where Lord Superman had switched to a white and black suit when the Justice Lords had been established, Jon still wore the red and blue that had been their original color scheme. His red cape pooled around Damian’s thighs and legs, hiding them from view. The suit really didn’t leave much to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle of Jon’s body, showing off a frankly impressive build. Jon might have said he was jealous of Damian’s muscles, but he was hardly slacking in that department himself.
Jon’s breathing hitched a little as he noticed Damian looking, and he leaned forward, raking his fingers through Damian’s hair, shorn short at the sides and left longer at the top.
“Like what you see?” Jon asked quietly, hovering his lips over Damian’s.
“I was just wondering how you think you’re going to fuck me with all that fabric in the way.”
“This?” Jon tugged at the collar of his suit. “Maybe I just like seeing you all vulnerable for once.”
Damian flattened out his expression. “Suit yourself.”
“Oh my god, was that a pun? A real-life, classic Robin pun? I feel so honored, pretty bird.”
Jon reached over for the zipper hidden behind the cape of his costume and pulled it down with brisk, practiced motions. Damian watched the beautiful man stripping himself over Damian’s naked body with an appropriate level of appreciation.
“There,” Jon said, tossing the suit aside. He’d certainly gotten himself undressed much faster than Damian. “Now we can finally get this party started.”
Jon grabbed Damian and tossed him fully onto the bed like he weighed nothing at all. Jon crawled on after him, lifting up Damian’s hips and spreading his thighs apart.
Damian held back a startled gasp. Apparently, now that Jon had gotten started, he was done going slow.
“Where’s your lube?” Jon asked.
Damian motioned at the nightstand, suddenly feeling that fluttering of nerves returning. He’d known from the start that Jon was going to fuck him, that had never really been up for question, but Damian had no idea how much patience the other boy had. Damian really hoped the little striptease from earlier was an indication of some self-restraint because Damian really didn’t want to be fucked raw. He could handle the pain, but recovery would take time, and Damian would rather avoid that. He swallowed past the nervous lump in his throat.
“There’s condoms there too.”
“Don’t need them. I can’t catch or transmit human STDs.” Jon pulled out the lube from the top drawer of the nightstand, squirting out a generous amount onto his hand.
“Have you had sex with men before, little bird?” Jon asked.
Damian nodded. “Yes.”
Jon was far from his first. Damian was also far from Jon’s first. In that, at least, they were equally matched.
Jon made sure to coat his fingers with the lube carefully before running a soothing hand down the outside of Damian’s thigh. “Don’t look so nervous; you don’t think I’d break my toy so early, do you?” Jon’s finger traced the line of Damian’s asshole, the lube and Jon’s hands still a little cold to the touch, before pushing a single digit in. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
Jon worked the finger in and out carefully, giving Damian plenty of time to adjust before adding a second one. Damian tensed up a little at the sensation of being filled. He focused on the feeling of Jon’s other hand, still running up and down Damian’s thigh in a rhythmic motion.
“That’s right, just like that. I’ll make you feel good, I promise,” Jon murmured and crooked his fingers upwards a little at the next thrust. Damian jolted at the feeling of the fingers brushing past his prostate.
Jon laughed. “Well, don’t clench up so hard. The whole point is to get you loosened up.” Despite his words, Jon kept targeting that little spot over and over again, his fingers just barely grazing at that lightning-hot pleasure there, like he knew exactly where to aim for. Damian wondered, hazy and distant in his own head, if Jon could use his x-ray vision to see inside Damian, too. If he knew Damian’s own body better than he did.
Jon pulled his fingers out for a second, and Damian couldn’t bite back the whine escaping his mouth in time. Jon chuckled.
“I know, pretty bird, you’re getting desperate.” Jon applied some more lube and slid his fingers back in, this time adding a third. Damian bucked into the thrust, getting rewarded for his efforts with a deeper stroke against his prostate.
“Really desperate,” Jon said and put a hand on Damian’s hip, effectively preventing him from repeating that move. “But I’m not going to let you off that easily. You need a bit more warming up before you’re ready to take me.”
Damian glanced down at Jon’s cock, standing at full attention already. It was definitely big enough that three fingers wouldn’t be enough. This might take a while.
Jon worked him up to four fingers, patiently stretching Damian out and drawing out whimpers and moans from him, like it was Jon’s favorite game. Judging by Jon’s hazed-over eyes, it was.
Jon moved the fingers in deeper, this time purposefully avoiding hitting Damian’s prostate, drawing the finger apart just a little so the stretch was more intense and captured Damian’s mouth into a kiss. Damian sank into it, getting lost in the push and pull of the fingers inside him.
“Think you’re ready?” Jon asked.
Damian opened his mouth to answer, and Jon shoved his fingers in deeper, hitting straight into that sweet spot. What came out of Damian’s mouth instead of words was a truly filthy moan.
Jon smirked, sharp and wicked. “Sounds like you are. No need to beg; I’m happy to please.”
Damian frowned, irritated despite himself as Jon pulled his fingers out. “You bastard.”
Jon spread Damian’s thighs as wide as they’d go, taking a moment to admire the boy in front of him, already a panting mess before Jon had even fucked him properly.
“You know,” Jon said slowly, eyes roving Damian’s body. “It’s not very nice to talk back like that. I might get offended.”
Jon bent down in a burst of superspeed and sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of Damian’s inner thigh. Damian bucked his hips upward, gasping in both surprise and a pleasure laced with an edge of pain. Jon looked up at him, face still buried in his thigh.
“What an interesting reaction, Damian. You like that?” Jon dragged his tongue over the bite to soothe the sting, and Damian’s eyes fluttered shut. “Say you’re sorry.”
Damian was still trying to catch his breath when Jon sank his teeth into the spot next to the previous bite. Damian jerked into the bite harder, his gasp a little more pained this time.
“Jon-“
“Say you’re sorry, Damian, and I promise I’ll fuck you next.”
Jon licked the second bite mark, and Damian groaned into it, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. “Fine! I’m sorry, okay?”
Jon released his thighs, giving the bitemarks a final gentle stroke before hiking himself up between Damian’s legs again. “That’s a good boy. So sweet and obedient for me.”
Damian glared at Jon hard but gritted his teeth against any insults wanting to escape his mouth.
Jon chuckled. “Right. I’ve kept you waiting for too long; you want more.”
He lined his cock up with Damian’s hole, pressing forward slowly and smoothly. Damian gasped at the feeling of being stretched out so thoroughly. Even with four fingers and a good deal of prep, Jon was big. Jon moved slowly and waited patiently for Damian to adjust. Damian took deep breaths and tried to force himself to relax. Jon had started stroking his hands up and down Damian’s side again, and Damian tried to focus on the sensation.
Finally, Damian gave Jon a nod and an impatient buck of his hips. He was ready.
Jon swallowed jerkily, starting to lose his composure a little now, too. Jon rolled his hips, and Damian quivered under him, his breath hitching a little.
The first few thrusts were unsteady and shallow, until Jon found his rhythm and started to make them deeper, the pace picking up.
Damian wrapped his legs around Jon’s waist and arched his back, leaning into each thrust with the limbless grace of an acrobat. Jon moaned, sounding for all the world like all his sexual fantasies were coming true at once.
“Fuck, you’re good,” Jon panted and the next roll of his hips hit into Damian’s prostate hard enough to make him see stars. “I always knew you’d feel so fucking good around me.”
Jon wrapped his hand around Damian’s cock and began pumping it up and down in time with his thrusts. Damian gasped, and his eyes fluttered shut.
“That’s right.” Jon sounded smug even as his pace picked up. Damian was much more used to his partners being too out of breath to talk at this point, but of course, with Jon’s Kryptonian physiology, if Damian wanted to shut him up, he’d have to try a little harder. “I told you I’d make you feel good.”
Damian tightened his thighs around Jon, hard enough to restrain, and clenched around him, making the next thrust a little deeper and sloppier than the ones before it. Jon stopped breathing for a moment, and his hands stuttered and twitched on Damian’s hips.
“Then shut up and get to it,” Damian panted, flashing Jon his haughtiest sneer.
Jon went wild for it; his head fell back, mouth agape, and Damian saw him visibly have to wrestle himself down from the edge of a premature ejaculation.
“Fuck,” Jon muttered to himself. “Damn.”
That was a somewhat new experience, someone liking it when Damian acted like an asshole. Jon had always been strange like that.
Jon got himself back under control. “Okay. You want it hard? I can do that.”
Jon adjusted their position a little so he was kneeling more securely against the bed, lifting Damian a little higher with that easy superstrength of his. Damian tightened his thighs again in anticipation, which turned out to be a good idea since once Jon started to move again, Damian needed the extra grip to hang on.
Jon’s pace turned punishing, each and every thrust deep and slightly upwards, hitting into that spot inside Damian that made him want to beg for more. Between that and the hand still pumping his dick, Damian felt a little like his whole world had been focused into a pinprick of flashing hot pleasure. His mouth had fallen open, and little gasps and moans were pouring out; Damian was too far gone to worry about anything like pride. All he could do was hang on and try to meet Jon’s thrusts with the roll of his own hips.
Jon’s breathing turned unsteady, and his thrusts gained a desperate edge. Damian felt the tightness at the bottom of his stomach unfurling and leaned into it; on the next shove of Jon’s hips, Damian tipped over the edge and let himself come undone.
Damian clenched his hole tight; it only took Jon a couple of more thrusts to follow after him. Damian felt Jon’s dick pulse inside him as he came; hot load filling him up.
Jon didn’t pull out just yet, still panting, just staring at Damian’s face with unfocused eyes. Jon leaned forward, pushed Damian into a languid, relaxed kiss. Damian met it eagerly, enjoying the tiny pricks of pleasure still sparking inside him at every move. Jon finally lowered Damian’s hips back onto the bed, but Damian didn’t unwrap his legs from around him just yet.
“You really are a boy wonder, Robin,” Jon murmured against his lips. “Easily worth every second I’ve spent waiting for you.”
“No one told you to wait,” Damian said, too relaxed and loose-limbed to imbue any kind of venom into his words.
“Guess they didn’t.”
Jon’s eyes were a soft baby blue and much too honest as they stared into Damian's. Damian couldn’t have honesty like that; they didn’t live easy lives like that.
Damian pulled Jon into another kiss and closed his eyes, just to escape those soft eyes. He bit into Jon’s lip, hard, to remind him of why they were here. The other boy moaned into it.
Jon’s hands buried themselves into Damian’s hair and tugged gently at the longer strands there. His hips rocked a little with his movements, and Damian thought he could feel-
Damian broke the kiss, surprised out of his thoughts. He looked down at where their bodies were still joined together, like he could somehow see what Jon’s dick was doing.
“Are you seriously getting hard already?”
Damian’s own cock was flaccid, completely spent so soon after an orgasm. Hell, his ass still felt the aftereffects of the orgasm.
Jon grinned down at him, all teeth and an almost vicious glee. “Kryptonian physiology. I can basically go again whenever.”
Damian was dumbfounded and not just a tiny bit intimidated. “You’re kidding me. How do you ever get anything done?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m doing you pretty well, I think.” Jon snickered at his own joke. “Besides, little bird, you promised me I had you for the whole night. You’re not walking back on your word, are you?”
Damian clenched his jaw. Jon’s hips rocking against his was becoming more insistent, and now there really was no doubt that the shaft of his erection was rubbing against Damian’s walls again. Jon could go like this, however many times he wanted to? And Damian had promised him the whole night.
Fuck.
Damian was still tender and oversensitive from the last time; every movement of Jon’s body felt just on the edge of being too much.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to come again yet,” Damian gasped out, his breathing hitching as Jon brushed against his prostate again. It felt less pleasurable than earlier, laced with an edge that felt almost uncomfortable.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Jon promised him. “I’m happy as long as I’m the one coming.”
Damian rolled his eyes, still gritting his teeth hard.
Jon slid his hands under Damian’s back and lifted him up, never once pulling Damian off his dick. Jon pulled Damian to sit up in his lap, facing Jon. The new angle felt a little less overwhelming but also it was – it almost felt like Jon’s cock was sliding deeper into him somehow.
Damian bit back a whimper as Jon lifted him up into the air an inch before bringing him back down onto his dick, using Damian like a sex toy. Cum leaked out of Damian’s ass with every thrust and the room was filled with the wet, filthy sounds of skin hitting against skin.
Jon kept his pace unhurried this time, less urgent to get off. His mouth found Damian’s neck and littered biting kisses into it, probably marking his neck very thoroughly. Damian found himself leaning into it, the scrape of teeth a pleasant distraction from his ass.
“Another fun fact about Kryptonians,” Jon muttered lowly, voice laced with that lust that he never seemed able to hold back when it came to Damian. “I have total control of myself. I could keep you trapped here for hours, without coming.”
Damian managed a weak snort. “Liar. You almost came early just a minute ago.”
Jon raised his eyebrows and pulled Damian almost entirely off his dick before ramming him back on it. Damian gasped and gripped Jon’s hips to stay balanced.
“Still with that backtalk, Damian. I thought we were getting past this.” Jon sank his teeth into Damian’s neck, just under his ear. The bite wasn’t hard enough to break skin, but it’d definitely leave a highly visible mark; Damian shivered into it. The more Jon wound him up, the less overwhelming the feeling of getting fucked again was getting. The discomfort was definitely starting to make way for more pleasant sensations. “Or maybe you’re just doing it in hopes of getting punished?” Jon continued. “Does my little bird like it when I punish him, hmm?”
Damian sunk his nails into Jon’s hips with all his considerable strength and raked them up his sides, leaving behind slightly reddened trails over his ribs. “You like it when I backtalk you,” Damian whispered, mouth level with Jon’s ear.
Jon’s breath on his neck was hot and heavy.
“Yeah,” Jon admitted, shuddering under Damian’s hands. “Yeah, I do.”
Jon gripped Damian’s hips harder and picked up the pace, meeting Damian’s falls with even thrusts of his own hips. Getting fucked like this, having his body maneuvered without his own input, felt oddly intoxicating. Damian let it happen without even considering fighting back, enjoyed the feeling of being so totally overpowered. The kryptonite knife was still within grabbing distance; if Damian had wanted it, he was fairly sure he could’ve lunged for it. Jon must’ve known that too.
Jon’s breathing started to come out unsteadily, sometimes breaking off entirely since Jon could just forgo the need for air if he wanted to. His pace got less punishing as he went along, the strokes more shallow but still as fast. Damian nudged his knees under himself and started moving himself, unwilling to let Jon set the pace for good. Jon let him, his head falling back again, eyes only half open and staring into Damian’s eyes. Damian could feel Jon was close: He clenched tightly around Jon, and Jon’s hips stuttered.
Jon fucked Damian through his own orgasm, little shallow, disjointed thrusts. Semen dripped down Damian’s thighs.
Jon buried his face in the crook of Damian’s shoulder. He sighed, then shuddered some more with the aftershocks. Damian buried his hand in Jon’s hair, gave it a couple of gentle pats before pulling at it with all his might.
“Really, Jon?” Damian mused as Jon let his head roll back with the force in his hair, eyes still unfocused and not quite present. “I thought you were ready to go again whenever. Looks to me like even Kryptonians have some refractory period.”
“Always gotta be better than me,” Jon murmured, head still in Damian’s hold and a light smile playing on his lips. “Always playing so tough.”
Jon lifted Damian into the air, and for a second, Damian thought they were about to go again. But Jon just lifted Damian fully off his cock and lied him down on his back on the bed. Damian shivered, feeling strangely empty all of a sudden.
“See, like right now.” Jon nudged Damian’s legs open again. “You’re sad to be off my dick but you’re trying so hard to hide it.”
Jon gave him an expectant look, like he was waiting for Damian to say something to refute him. Damian settled for a scoff and refused to humor the boy. He wasn’t fully sure he’d be able to cover up any kind of a lie right now, and the truth was far too embarrassing to admit.
Jon laughed. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll be happy to fill you up again.”
Jon slid two of his fingers between Damian’s thighs and into the heat there. Damian bucked minutely into it but the fingers felt unsatisfying now that he’d gotten used to the thicker length of Jon’s dick.
“So that talk about being able to go forever really was a lie,” Damian said, a condescending smile on his lips. “It’s okay, I’m sure coming twice in a row is very impressive too.”
Jon shook his head. “Ye of little faith. Just let me show you what I can do.”
Jon’s fingers crooked upward until they hit Damian’s prostrate, then they stilled there.
Damian rolled his eyes. “Very impressive.”
Jon’s fingers began moving in tiny little twitches, moving faster and faster until they were fully vibrating against Damian’s prostate. Damian gasped and bucked his hips in involuntary bliss.
“This is the impressive part,” Jon told him conversationally. “A little better than a regular vibrator, don’t you think?”
It was. Jon’s fingers sought out Damian’s prostate like they were guided toward it, rolling in and out in little thrusting circles, always managing to find just the right angle to make Damian see stars.
Damian bit back a moan.
“No, no. None of that anymore.” Jon moved a little until his left hand was bunched in Damian’s hair. Jon yanked on his hair, hard enough that Damian had to go with the movement. Jon pulled Damian’s head all the way back until his neck was arched back uncomfortably, his throat bared to Jon and his roaming mouth. The angle made it so that Damian had to really focus just to breathe right, he couldn’t even begin to bite back the moaning noises leaving his mouth anymore.
“Since you’re so much better than me, I’m sure you’ll have no problem showing me all of that self-control of yours,” Jon mocked him, turning Damian’s head a little so he could have access to an as-of-yet unmarked part of his neck.
Jon angled his fingers a little deeper, and Damian whimpered.
“Very impressive,” Jon whispered, repeating Damian’s own words to him. He worried at a spot on Damian’s neck with his teeth, bruising it with an almost tender tenacity. “You know you sound like a wanton whore right now, right?”
Damian’s breathing hitched and his cock stirred. He was definitely starting to get hard again.
Damian felt Jon’s near-silent laugh rumble against his skin. “Really. Just listen to yourself.”
The room was filled with nothing but soft squelching sounds, as Jon’s fingers pumped in and out of Damian’s body, dislodging more semen with every thrust. Damian tried holding his breath, tried to force the other sounds to stay back, and Jon eyed him with amusement, more than happy to let Damian tire himself out.
Damian’s lungs burned. It only took a particularly good jab into his prostate for the air to leave Damian’s lungs in a moaning gasp. His next inhale was shaky and weak, like he was running out of air.
Damian felt a little light-headed, with pleasure and the knowledge that Jon was watching his every reaction. Jon’s fingers were drawing little high-pitched whines out of him on every inhale, a chorus of ‘ah-ah-ah’.
“Such a good little slut,” Jon praised him. His fingers slowed down, now only occasionally brushing against Damian’s prostate.
Damian growled and tried grinding his hips down, but Jon retaliated by pulling his fingers out completely.
“We already discussed this, little bird. I set the pace tonight.” Jon finally let go of Damian’s hair and grabbed hold of his wrists instead, trapping them over his head. Before Damian had time to get angry, Jon had already let go again, just guiding the hands where he wanted them, out of the way so that Jon could have free access to Damian’s body. Not restraining him. “And I say you’re about ready to come again.”
Jon gave his own cock a couple of hard strokes, making it go from mostly hard to rock-hard easily like he hadn’t already come twice in the span of a half hour.
Damian braced his legs on the bed and pushed into it when Jon slid his cock into him. Jon seated himself to the hilt, stopped for a moment to adjust, before moving back again and ramming into Damian with a careless strength that left Damian feeling more than a little breathless.
“I wonder how many times I could make you come,” Jon mused casually, rolling one of Damian’s nipples between his fingers. “We’ve got what, six, eight hours? I could keep you here that whole time, speared on my dick, and we could find out together.”
Damian growled again. Jon laughed.
“What do you think? Would you like to live on my dick? I wouldn’t even let you up for air.”
“If you even try that,” Damian hissed, shivering under Jon’s hands. “I’ll kill you here and now.”
“Fine, fine. I get it.” Jon rolled his hips and gave a moan of his own as Damian rolled his own in return. “But I bet you’d like it, pretty bird.”
Jon set up a hard pace, hard enough to make Damian come apart. Jon chased him just on the edge of coming, then slowed his pace to glacial, giving just tiny, little unsatisfying thrusts of his hips.
Damian opened his eyes to find Jon smirking down at him.
“What?” Jon asked, faux-innocently. “You in a hurry?”
Damian’s blood rushed with pleasure, his cock was rock-hard. He felt sort of like he was going to claw Jon’s skin off if he didn’t pick up the pace again.
“Start moving,” Damian ground out.
Jon hummed and gave Damian one hard thrust, just enough to make him gasp but not enough to push him over that edge.
“You didn’t believe me when I said I had total control of myself, so now I have to prove it, don’t I?”
Jon gave him another roll of his hips, too shallow by half, and Damian groaned, mostly in frustration. One of these days, Damian’s big mouth was going to get him killed, maybe today, if Jon didn’t just get moving.
Jon made sure to keep his pace unsteady and agonizingly slow, every once in a while picking up speed and fucking Damian into the mattress, just long enough for him to think that Jon was finally, finally getting tired of this game. And then, just as Damian was about to come, Jon would stop, like he knew the exact moment that would bring Damian the most agony.
“Jon,” Damian growled.
Jon ran a single finger down Damian's shaft, already painfully hard and leaking precum. Damian unconsciously tried to buck into the touch, but Jon had his hips firmly pinned down with his other hand, making sure Damian couldn’t get any purchase.
“What’s up, Damian?” Jon leaned closer, a wicked smile playing on his lips. It really didn’t seem like he had any problem holding back his own orgasm. “Did you want something?”
Damian ground his teeth together and glared. Jon wanted him to beg.
“Come on,” Jon’s cock brushed past Damian’s prostate and Damian’s hands balled into fists in the sheets. “You’ll have to speak up; I can’t read your mind.”
Damian wasn’t sure that was true at all. Judging by how good Jon was at reading the minute reactions his body was giving in response to Jon’s ministrations, Jon might as well have been a mind reader.
Damian refused to answer. Refused to open his mouth at all, in fear that he’d just start begging.
“No?” Jon asked, pulling out a little. “That’s fine, I’ve got time.”
Jon rammed forward, each thrust of his cock hitting into that blinding white center of pleasure inside Damian. The pace got faster again, and Jon eased up his grip on Damian’s hips so that Damian could move in time with him. Damian ground his head into the pillow under him and couldn’t focus on anything but the slap of their bodies together, the way every movement set his insides alight with a spark of red-hot pleasure. Damian chased that feeling, clenching down harder around Jon, thrusting his hips into every push of Jon’s hips. He could feel the orgasm building inside him. He just needed -
Jon pinned Damian’s hips down and stopped moving entirely.
“You fucking bastard,” Damian hissed, too overcome with frustration to care about Jon’s stupid rules about insulting him. Maybe if he insulted the boy enough, he’d actually get mad enough to lose composure and let Damian finish. “You asshole!” Damian raked his nails across Jon’s chest hard and got a slight flutter of breath from Jon as his reward.
“Tell me what you want, little bird,” Jon ordered darkly.
Damian dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and bared his teeth in helpless rage and arousal.
“Still not giving in?” Jon sighed in mock-disappointment. “Always so stubborn. You’re just making this harder for yourself.” Jon was so very clearly enjoying himself that it actually made Damian a little harder. At this point, Damian found everything arousing. He thought he was going to explode if this kept up.
“Well, let’s keep having some fun then.”
Jon's hips started moving faster again, and Damian’s pleasure was coming to him quicker, more desperate. And then Jon would just deny him again, and he was never going to-
Damian couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please,” Damian gasped, head arched back, his body writhing under Jon’s. “Please fuck me.”
“I am fucking you, pretty bird,” came Jon’s amused response. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Please let me come. Jon,” Damian reached out blindly, and Jon leaned closer indulgently, letting Damian bury his hands in his hair and bring them together onto a dirty kiss. “Please, Jon,” Damian begged.
Jon shuddered, and Damian could feel it all the way inside himself. “Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, pretty bird. Since you asked so sweetly.”
Jon’s hands went to Damian’s thighs, helping him writhe along to every thrust. The friction between their bodies was so delicious, and Damian was already so close, every roll of Jon’s hips just brought him closer to the brink. A particularly deep thrust into Damian’s prostate sent him over that edge, and he screamed out as he came, his vision whiting out completely.
Jon fucked him through his orgasm, still in those even, deep strokes even though his breathing was coming out hard and unsteady. Damian moaned, overly sensitive but unable to do anything but lean into the sensations wracking his body. Jon came with a shuddering cry, his hips still stuttering into Damian like he just couldn’t make himself stop anymore.
Damian let the waves of bone-deep pleasure wash over him even as Jon leaned over him and pulled him into one more deep kiss. Jon pulled out of Damian and Damian whimpered into his mouth, feeling too empty and too sensitive all at once. Jon stroked his hair gently and gathered Damian into his arms.
Damian had a moment of panic, thinking Jon was going to pull him on his dick again.
“No more,” Damian said hurriedly.
“No more,” Jon agreed, pulling Damian closer to his chest, just petting his hair without making even a move towards anything more. “It’s okay; we’re done. You did so well.”
Damian shook in Jon’s arms and buried his face into the other boy’s chest. It felt so good, but at the same time so intense.
Jon kept up a litany of soft praises, his touch gentle and comforting. “You were so good, Damian, my pretty little bird. So good and sweet.”
Damian calmed down slowly, still riding that high of an afterglow but now starting to feel embarrassed about everything he’d just said and done.
“Satisfied?” Damian asked wryly, once he could trust his voice to come out steady.
“Completely,” Jon hummed, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “You exceeded expectations in every way.”
Damian wondered if that really could be true. If reality could really match up to all those things Jon must’ve built up in his head over the years.
“And here I am without my boots,” Damian commented. “Remarkable.”
Jon laughed. “I mean, there’s still plenty of time for you to put the boots on later. Or at the very least, I’ll get to see you put them back on when you get dressed again. I’m looking forward to it; I really want to know how you wriggle into those.”
Damian huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll get a big kick out of thinking about that later.”
“Yeah.” Jon’s smile slipped a little, and he pressed Damian more tightly against himself, tucking Damian’s head under his chin. When he spoke again, his voice was deliberately casual and unaffected, like he was still just joking around. “You know, if I thought for a moment you might take me up on it, I’d ask you to run away with me, leave this whole war behind us.”
Damian pressed his face into the crook of Jon’s neck and closed his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t think that.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jon’s voice was as soft as the fingertips he dragged across Damian’s collarbone. “This was a one-time deal. Just to bail Batman out of trouble.”
Damian hummed in agreement.
“But I have to ask: why didn’t you just ask Kon? I’m pretty sure he'd do anything for Tim, he’d go down on his knees and lick Tim’s shoes if he just asked him nicely.”
Jon was one to talk when it came to shoes, specifically.
“Everyone knows that Kon’s like that. Superman watches him too closely because of it.”
Drake and the clone had already been together before Batman broke away from the remaining Justice Lords. At the time, both sides had watched with bated breath what the pair would do, if either would betray their family for the other or if they’d just follow the other Lords and fly away into space, never to be seen again. In the end, both had chosen to stay with their families, although in Kon’s case, the line had always been more flexible.
Damian had once asked Drake why he’d chosen to stay. Drake had given him a long, tight look and just walked away without saying a word. To be fair, it’d been a stupid question. Drake wouldn’t, couldn’t, turn his back on their Father any more than Damian could.
Damian and Jon had never had that, a defined relationship like that. Not out in the open, at least. Becoming enemies had been just a step away from what they’d already had, even if the way they were enemies could be... unconventional.
“Right. Of course,” Jon said, like he didn’t really believe it. But he wasn’t going to push. He never did, in this matter. What would it have helped?
Damian rolled over in Jon’s arms, stretching languidly and then wincing when the movement made his body ache deep inside.
“But you know, I think you’re going to regret tonight in the long run,” Damian commented and fished around his nightstand for a towel to clean themselves off. They were both covered in spent, and the feeling of being sticky was getting to be too gross to ignore. “Since I got to learn a whole bunch of your weaknesses here.”
Jon played with Damian’s hair and didn’t seem the slightest bit worried that Damian would go for the kryptonite knife only inches away from Damian’s fingers. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Well, for one, I can apparently get you to go against your core morals if I just offer to fuck you in return.”
Jon hugged Damian close to him again and laughed so hard that Damian shook along with his rumbling giggles. “If that means we can do this again, I’m willing to find new core morals just for you to defile.”
Damian smiled. He’d consider it, once he found something advantageous enough to justify it.
Damian wiped himself off with the towel first, then helped Jon clean himself too. The towel was dry, and Damian's skin still felt faintly sticky, not to mention that they both smelled like sex. They’d have to take a shower before leaving here. That could wait, though; morning was still hours away, and Damian felt very comfortable here, lying in Jon’s arms, their feet tangled together in the sheets.
Damian pressed a kiss to Jon’s lips, and Jon blinked back at him sleepily, clearly worn out from their activities.
“Go to sleep, Jon. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get going.”
Jon ran his thumb over Damian’s cheek, a clear look of adoration on his face. “Damian. My pretty little bird. I’m obsessed with you.”
Damian smirked, a little softer than he meant to. “I know. It’s very convenient for me.”
Jon was still smiling when he closed his eyes and fell asleep, his breath soft and hot against Damian’s hair.