Hello! So I don't have the next chapter of Mirror yet (it's like half done, and freaking adorable so far), so I am filling time with lovely porn. You get JayRoy today, and if I still don't have it by Monday you'll get some TimKon too. Enjoy!

Warnings for: BDSM (with proper aftercare), impact play, and sort-of praise kink. Enjoy!

Jason's fingers curl around the hanging bar, just one hand, his eyes trained up at it. "This is new," he says, grinning at me for a second before his hand tightens and he tugs at the bar. The steel cabling secured to it bends a bit, lets him tug it down with a clink of metal on metal. "This can't be what you've been working on, babe. This would have taken what," he peers up, at how it connects to the ceiling, "about an hour to build and put in? Less, maybe."

"Forty-five minutes," I correct, my arms crossed loosely over my chest as I match his grin. "Go on, Jay, try it out."

I know he can see the loops built into the ends for cuffs, and it's especially obvious when he curls both his hands around the metal and tests the height. It brings him just a little off his heels with both arms outstretched above his head; with the support of both arms and most of his feet still on the ground it should be perfectly comfortable for a pretty long time. That's important with the games we play.

Jason shoots me another grin and then shifts his fingers to a more solid grip and lifts. His feet come up off the floor, and I let my pride show on my face as my construct takes the strain without even a creak of protest. Making something sturdy enough to hold up all the weight and muscle that is Jason isn't a real easy thing, especially not for something that's going to get used a fair amount. I had to reinforce some of the ceiling to make it happen, but it was a small price to pay, and not really that hard. Actually, this was a great distraction from my real projects; sometimes I just need to build something to refresh my mind. Usually, I spend those moods on making fun toys or props for our play.

Jason's never complained. In fact, considering the noises I get out of him, I think he's fully supportive of what I choose to do with my sometimes wayward mind.

"Nice," he says, almost like he's talking to himself. Then he curls his torso, his head dropping back as his legs come up and through the gap in his arms. I tilt my head a bit as his knees hook over the bar, and then he lets go of it with his arms and lets himself fall down. His fingers are still a few feet from the floor hanging like he is.

I step forward and sink down to my knees so my face is mostly level with his, reaching forward to curl my fingers through his hair and stroke them across his scalp. He hums in pleasure, arms rising from where they're hanging to touch my sides. I can feel the warm press of his hands through my tank-top, and Jason gives a slow smile. I can see the lines of stress he's been carrying since he walked into our apartment start to ease. Not enough for my tastes, but I'll get him to relax by the end of the night.

"Having fun with that?" I ask him, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss him just for a moment.

He gives a soft laugh, fingers grazing up my sides and dragging the fabric of my top up with them. "I like it," he admits, with just a bit of heat to his gaze. "I love it when you get creative, babe."

Then I do kiss him. I keep it softer than I want to, and it's a little strange from the upside down angle but I don't mind that. He doesn't either, judging by the way his teeth catch on my lip and he gives another of those hums into my mouth. I stay in the press of his mouth for a good few seconds, enjoying the lazy warmth and the promise of more behind the dip of his tongue.

When I do pull away it's slowly, and I press a last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before I pull back enough to watch his expression when I whisper, "Welcome home, Jaybird." He gives me a slow smile for that, and I lightly pet his scalp. "How was Gotham?"

His expression instantly shutters, but then he sighs and lightly grips my shirt as he tilts his head into my hands. "Rough. Always is. Family, you know?"

"I know." I lean in for another gentle kiss, wanting nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, and ease the pain out of him. Jason is always wound tight after visits to Gotham, or meetings with any of his family. Even if things go just fine, seeing them still makes him angry, guilty, sad, and pained all at once. It's a toxic mix, but it is getting better. Every time that he sees one of them and nothing bad happens, it gets easier for him to be around them.

"What about you?" Jason asks after our mouths part. "You finish that big thing you've been so excited about?"

I'd get offended by him calling my work in progress a 'thing,' if I didn't know that half of what I say goes right over his head. Even if most of the time he barely understands the kind of stuff I'm building, he still makes a point to remember when I'm working on anything specific, and to ask about it. His willingness to listen to me chatter about my projects is one of the many things that I love about him; he might not understand most of my technical explanations, but he still loves listening to me. He's said so himself.

"No," is my admission, then I glance up at the bar and give a small grin. "Needed a break."

He groans, head tilting a little further back. "Make any other new toys?" he asks, hands tightening in my shirt. There's definitely more than a little bit of hunger in his tone, and it makes me laugh.

"Not this time, Jaybird. Got some ideas though." I look back up, towards his legs. "In fact, you're giving me ideas just hanging there, Jay. You should come down before I decide to cuff your ankles to your thighs and trap you up there. Or something."

He laughs, but does start to curl upwards again. I shift backwards to give him the space, and then get back on my feet as he grabs the bar with his arms again and feeds his legs back out. But instead of dropping down he flips the grip of his hands around, twisting to face me, and then swings both legs forward. I can't say that I expect them to wrap around my waist, or for him to drag me closer with them, but I'm definitely not going to protest it either. Not with his thighs pressing hard in against my sides — and fuck but Jason's got gorgeous thighs — and his ankles crossed behind me, more or less trapping me in close to him.

He's grinning, and he stays grinning as I bring my hands up to brace underneath his thighs, letting him take a bit of the weight off of his arms. He leans in to kiss me, and I gladly meet him.

"Up for some play tonight?" I ask against his mouth, and he gives a mix of a sigh and a groan that's maybe just a little intoxicating. Only a little because I know that sound, and it means that his Gotham trip hurt more than he'll be willing to admit until it's not fresh in his mind anymore. He'll tell me about it later, but right now he just needs distraction and intimacy.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Could use some. I—" He cuts off, and then his thighs squeeze around my waist and he lets out a huff of breath. "It'd be nice to be appreciated sometime this week."

I squeeze his thighs in turn, and catch his mouth in a brief kiss. "You got it," I whisper, considering my options. One of the ideas floating around in the back of my head slides its way forward, and I think about it for just a second before I decide to bring it up. "Jay, I've had this idea for a scene for awhile, but I haven't wanted to just spring it on you."

Jason's legs unhook from around me, and a moment later he's dropping to the floor. Still close to me though, and his arms loop their way around my waist. "So tell me about it," he murmurs, face only a few inches from mine but his eyes open and focused. Jason's never messed around about negotiation, and I so appreciate that.

I give a smile, returning his embrace by looping my left arm around his shoulders and raising my right to comb through the hair at the base of his skull. "That's the thing. If I tell you what it is, just based on the actual actions, you're not going to want to do it. But I've thought about it a lot, and I think that it could be really good for you." I hold his gaze. "It'll hurt, and it'll be intense, but you know I wouldn't even bring it up if I didn't think it'd be good."

He's studying me, but there's no worry or wariness in his eyes. Not yet, anyway. "So it's emotional pain?" I nod. "You think now is a good time?"

"I think now is the perfect time," I reassure him. "It's kind of a cleansing thing, and we've got nothing planned for the week so whatever time you need or want to recover, you'll have it." He gives me a bit of a skeptic look for that comment, and I rush to explain that, "Not that I think it'll take a week for recovery. Probably not more than the night; but just in case it's deeper than I expect."

"Mmm." He watches me for another moment. "Humiliation?"

"No," I stress. "No, absolutely not. And I swear, no kinks that I don't know you enjoy. Might not even be sex, depending on how you react."

Another moment, and then Jason asks, "You really think that it'll be good at the end?"

I nod, communicating with the squeeze of my hand around his shoulders and then in the collar of the jacket he's still wearing. "Yeah, Jay. I do. And you can always stop me if it's too much; you know you can."

Jason shifts his head in a small nod, and then leans in to press his forehead against mine. "Alright." He kisses me, just a brief press of his lips that barely lasts even a second. "I trust you, Roy. You have my consent."

That always takes my breath for a moment.

I smile, and tilt my head so I can kiss him back. "Thank you," I whisper. His grip on me tightens, and then he eases out underneath my hands. That feeling draws a bigger smile out of me, and I can't help pulling him in for another kiss. He leans into me, and I barely manage to ask, "Now alright, Jaybird?" when I break the kiss.

He gives a quiet laugh, and shakes his head. "Food first?" he murmurs. "Long flight."

I grin. "You got it, Jay. I can—"

"I'll cook," he interrupts. He pulls a bit away from me, grinning even as he snorts. "You keep your genius to your machines, babe, and away from my kitchen. I can't remember the last time you tried to make a meal that didn't end with something burnt."

"Hey!" I say with mock offense, as I follow him out of our room and back towards the kitchen. "I survive while you're gone, don't I?"

"Mmhmm. You order take out, Roy." He smirks over his shoulder at me. "I know your tricks."

I catch up to him when he's standing at the counter in front of our sink, and wind my arms around him while he washes his hands. "Fair point," I admit, pressing my mouth to the side of his neck. "Make something delicious?"

He tilts his head back, and I give in to the silent request for a kiss. "I always do, babe," he murmurs, leaning his head against mine for a second. "Now shoo so I can move."

Jason's stripped down, and because I just couldn't help myself he's up on the balls of his feet, his hands curled around my newly installed bar and his weight hanging from it. Without his jacket or clothes in the way it gives his back a lovely slight arch to it, and his head might be a little lowered but that doesn't mean anything. Not yet. I haven't even really started.

It's the build up, the anticipation, that's the first step towards getting him inside his own head. But, this time, my goal is to drag him back out of it. To make him feel important, and necessary, and make him really believe how amazing he is, and how much I love him. I almost wish that I could think of a way to do it that's a little bit less dramatic, but I know this will work. I'm almost positive of it; I wouldn't risk Jason's health or safety if I was anything but positive.

I've told him a hundred times that I love him, that he's incredible, and I always get the same response to that second comment. A small laugh, a small duck of his head even as he kisses me or smiles, and the lingering sense that he doesn't believe me. I just want him to realize how incredible he is. I can do that, can't I?

I slide my hands up his back, resting my head between his shoulder blades and feeling the very slight shiver he gives as my fingers trace over his ribs. I consider my tools, what to use, exactly how this is going to go. There can't be any mistakes, not with something this important. I have to get it just right.

"Comfortable, Jay?" I ask, with a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

He hums out satisfaction, shifts back against me and my touch. "With you? Always, babe."

I nod, press another kiss to his skin, this one over his right shoulder blade. "And you know I would never do anything to you that I didn't think was for your own good?"

Jason snorts, and rocks his weight back on the bar to press harder into me for a moment before gravity gets a hold of him again. "Relax, Roy, or you're going to make me nervous. I trust you, babe. Remember? Whatever you've got in mind, I'm sure you know what you're doing."

I let out a long sigh, wrap my arms around his waist and just hold tight for a moment. Then I force myself to step away, and to move around him to the tools laid out at the foot of the bed. For now I pick up one of my floggers, the straps about a foot and a half long, leather, with pointed ends. It stings, and it can do damage if I swing it hard enough, but really it's one of the tamer things in terms of sensation. It takes serious strength to hurt him with this, and I can range it anywhere I want.

He's watching me when I turn around, blue eyes half lidded and a smirk curling his mouth. It's challenge in his expression, and I know that. He's always like that. Jason loves the challenge almost as much as he loves the submission, and he's definitely the one trusting me to do what I want to. One word — the right word — and I would stop, and he's not actually bound in any way. Not right now, anyway. I think that's good. I'm going to push him pretty hard, and I don't want him to feel at all trapped.

Knowing that he could let go at any second and end things should keep him a little more stable.

I move back around him, reaching out to slide my hand around his side as I get behind him. "Don't let go of that bar," I order, with a snap of the flogger that's through thin air, and purely for the sound effect. He doesn't even flinch.

"You got it, babe," Jason almost purrs, and I can see his fingers flex around the bar and pull his weight up a bit more, until he's resting just on his toes. He lets it go in the next second, rocking back down onto the balls of his feet and a more stable setting.

I eye his back, considering the couple of bruises on his left side that must be from Gotham. Nothing else that I can see though, and none of the real beating targets are hurt so I don't have to be careful or selective with where I hit. I flick the flogger once, testing the distance just to be sure, and it falls lightly over the upper left side of his back. He shifts a little bit, but he knows what I'm doing and doesn't give any more reaction than that. He's no stranger to this kind of play, we've been doing this long enough to know each other's patterns.

Like the way he draws in a deep breath to brace, and the way I strike just in the middle of it to shove it back out of his lungs. He barely shifts under the blow, and it doesn't leave anything but a very faint redness, but then I haven't gotten very hard yet.

That's not the point.

Start with an easy beating, warm him up and sink him down into his own head. Then I can wrench him back up and out of it while he's vulnerable and more open to suggestion. What I want from him I doubt I could ever get while he was level headed, but I know that play like this makes him relax, it makes him lower his guard. It's just what I need for this.

He breathes evenly underneath the blows, and I make sure to keep it even between both sides of his back, warming each side individually and setting him up for harder blows later. When I think he's suitably warmed up, and his breathing has picked up about half a notch, I stop. I step forward, trailing the leather of the flogger over his back and then following it with my fingertips. Then with my nails. Not that hard, but hard enough to make the sensitized skin — hot underneath my hand — give him pretty decent feedback, and make him shift his weight and push back towards me. Wanting more, that's good.

I press the hand with the flogger in it to the center of his back, as a grounding point, and then sweep my other hand down his right side as I lean down towards it. He gives a quiet groan as I press my mouth and teeth to the skin above his lower ribs, sucking a couple of marks into him. I can feel him breathing, hear the flex of his fingers on that bar, and I smile against him before I pull away. I work him a little more, cracking the flogger down with a little bit more force now that I know he can take it. A few are even hard enough to make him rock forward an inch or so before he resettles.

When I get my first noise, a sharp inhalation that's just a little too quiet to be a gasp, I stop again. I quietly set the flogger down on the floor and then step forward to press myself up against his back. I keep my left hand away from him, letting him believe the flogger is still in it, as I slide my right hand around his side and down. His breath catches when I wrap my hand around the jut of his cock, swiping my thumb up to catch that first trickle of precum beading at the very tip.

"Enjoying yourself?" I ask in a low murmur, pressing my mouth to the side of his neck.

He takes in a breath, and from this angle I can see that his eyes are closed, his expression relaxed into surrender. "Yes," he breathes, and I reward him with a stroke of my hand. He gives a soft groan.

"Nice and warmed up for me. You ready for the real games?"

Jason nods, and then presses back against me. "Yes."

And here's the first testing point. "Tell me something good about yourself, Jay."

He stills, pauses for a second as his head twists back towards me a bit. "What?"

I tilt myself away from his left side, and bring my empty left hand down hard on his ass. He yelps, twisting against my grip. That hard of a blow, where I haven't warmed his skin up to take pain, would definitely hurt. That's the point, but I know it's nothing he can't take, wouldn't gladly take for punishment.

"You heard me, Jaybird." I press a kiss to his shoulder, and then repeat, "Tell me something good about yourself."

I can almost feel him dragging himself out of his own head, back to a level where he can speak and think semi-clearly. He shudders a little bit, and I lower my hand to his ass and massage the pink-tinged skin with my fingers to reassure him as I wait. He'll need a bit of time to pull himself out of his normal headspace; usually I don't make him talk and he likes it better that way. I won't push him for an answer until he has one.

"I um…" He stalls for words, and then gives a small bark of laughter. "I'm a hell of a shot with a gun."

Not what I want, but it's what I expected. Jason has a hundred walls built in him, and laughing it off or brushing it aside when someone expects him to say positive things about himself is one of them. I just want him to understand how amazing he is, and if I have to rip that wall down until it's rubble at my feet then that's what I'll do. He can take it, and I'll make sure that he comes out the other side knowing that he's loved, that I'll take care of him, that I will always protect him. Especially when it comes to the backstabbing of his own mind.

I give a small hum of approval, and another stroke to his cock. "Another," I order.

He stalls for another second. "I'm— I'm damn good looking." That one comes with the edge of confidence in his tone, which makes me smile against his shoulder. The one thing that Jason's never shied away from is light hearted jokes about his own good looks, though he can get squirmy and flustered when I actually press it.

I have my own share of self-worth issues, and maybe there's a small part of me that hopes that if I help Jason with his, some of that will ease mine too.

"Damn right you are," I agree, squeezing his cock hard enough to be pleasurable, with just that tiny touch of pain to make him gasp. "Another."

"I speak German," comes in the middle of a second gasp.

That's most of what I get for the next few, is Jason's impressive list of languages he's fluent in. It's close to what I want, but not quite. From there it's into skills, weaponry, knowledge, all the things I already know that he can do and a few I honestly only suspected. It's not a surprise when he moves into sex after that, but that only lasts him a few more minutes. By that point he's hard and leaking in my hand, and my other fingers have slipped between his cheeks to rub at the tight circle of muscle that's one of my biggest temptations in life. I can't quite get the fact out of my head that he's been in Gotham, untouched, for a week. I hold myself back anyway.

Finally I demand, "Another," in the middle of dragging my fifth hickey to the right side of his neck, and he stalls again.

So I stop, sliding my hand up his back and keeping the other one still around him. I can see his mouth open, his teeth clicking together in small intervals as he searches for words. He shudders in my grip, and his head raises and tilts back, to stare up at the ceiling.

"Another, Jay," I repeat. "Tell me something good about yourself."

"I—" He seems at a loss for words, and to test whether it's nerves, sensation, or an actual lack of anything to say I hit his ass again, just as hard as the first time. Another yelp, another arch away from me and forward into the loop of my arm and the grip of my hand. "I— I don't… Roy, I can't." He sounds a little desperate, and it makes my chest ache a bit.

I let go of him and slide around to his front, reaching up to slide my fingers through his hair. "Look at me, Jay." He does. "Of course you can, babe. Of course there's more."

He drags in a breath, as his head drops down and his fingers clench tight around that metal bar. "I'm not— Roy I don't. I can't." His eyes are a little watery, and his voice shakes and sounds so broken that god it breaks my heart too.

I close my eyes for a second, to steady myself, and then lightly tug at his hair and pull his gaze back to mine. "Jason, you are so much more than what you can do. You are so incredible, and talented, and amazing." His next breath sounds a step away from tears, and I lean in and press a soft kiss to his mouth. Chaste. "Jay, baby, I want you to repeat after me, alright?"

I get one jerky nod, and that's enough for me.

"You're kind."

"You're kind," he echoes, and I shake my head.

"No, Jay. You. You're kind."

He stiffens for a second, and then exhales a breath that almost sounds like a sob as he shudders.

"I'm kind."

I carefully wind my left hand around the back of his neck, and slide my right down his chest and to his cock. Still completely hard, good. That means he hasn't completely lost the desire for any of this.

"You're smart."

His face twists, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he breathes, "I'm smart."

"You're thoughtful," I encourage, as I start to slowly move my hand and stroke him.

"I'm thoughtful."

"Brave," is the last one, and I just whisper it. I get another shudder.

"I'm brave," he chokes out.

"That's good, Jay," I praise. "Repeat them for me. You're…" I leave it hanging, and Jason takes the prompt.

"Kind, smart," his voice cracks, and now I'm almost sure he's about to cry, "thoughtful, and brave."

"And a hundred other things." I lean a little further in, kiss him with a softness that feels almost unbearable even to me. "Say them again, Jay. Keep saying them." This shudder is stronger than the others, and I press myself up against him to keep him close even as I speed up my hand, add a twist to the motion and use just the force I know he loves.

I get a small cry for that, before his mouth parts and he gasps, "Kind, smart, thoughtful, brave."

"Again," I press, when he pauses. He's trembling, and I can feel how worked up he is in more ways than one, how close to breaking in all the ways I want him to. "Come on, Jay. Say them again. What are you?"

The sound he makes is half a sob and half a cry, and I can see the tears break free from his eyes to slide down his cheeks. He rallies enough to force himself to say, "I'm kind, smart, thoughtful, and brave."

"That's right, Jay." He bucks forward into my hand, a thin cry making it's way out of his throat, and I recognize the warning signs. "One more time, babe. Say them one more time."

He's shaking, and he's crying, but somehow through all that emotion he manages to do it anyway. "Kind. Smart. Thoughtful." He bucks forwards again, voices the last word in a desperate shout of, "Brave!" Then he's arching, head tossing back, shuddering even harder as he comes across his own stomach and my wrist. He sobs through it, and I keep my pace slow and steady to milk him, mindful of the increased sensitivity.

Then his head drops and I see him go mostly lax, his weight catching on his arms as his knees buckle. There are tears in his eyes and on his face, and he looks exhausted and taken apart, but his hands are still clenched around that bar. My good boy.

I carefully wind my arms around him, and murmur, "Let go," into his ear. He doesn't immediately respond, so I tighten my grip to make it clear I'm holding him securely. "You can let go, Jay. I've got you, babe. I've got you."

He does, though it's slow and his hands are shaking when he pulls them down and tucks his arms down between us. I lean down and pick him up, sliding my right arm underneath his knees and hefting him up into the air. It's not easy, but I've done it before and I can do it again. Jason might be solid muscle, but I'm pretty solid muscle myself. His head tucks into my shoulder, and I can feel him trembling, feel the wetness of tears on my skin.

"Easy, babe," I whisper, as I carry him over to the bed. It takes a balancing act and some dextrous toes to pull down the sheets so I can get him under them, but I've done that before too. I ease him down onto the bed, and then pull away only exactly as far as I need to so I can lie down next to him and pull him up against me.

A particularly strong shudder shakes him as I wrap my arms around his torso, and I raise one hand high enough to thread my fingers through his hair as I kiss his forehead.

"You're alright, Jay. It's okay. I've got you and I'm never letting go." It's a promise I'm never going to break, and I've told him that too. I pull him as close as I can get, until his head is tucked into my shoulder and I'm pressed up tight against every other inch of him. "You were so good for me, baby," I praise. "Did exactly what I wanted you to, did amazing, Jay. Did so well."

I stroke as much skin as I can find with my other hand, while rubbing over his scalp with the other. His shaking has only gotten a little worse, but I know why that is too. Jason always tries to hide when he's in real pain.

"Let it out," I tell him, pressing my lips and face to his hair. "God, babe, let it all out for me. You do exactly what you need to; I can take it."

A thick shudder, and then his hands are rising and clutching onto my biceps, fingers digging in probably hard enough to bruise. It's another sign; when Jason's out of his mind like this he needs the reminder that I'm strong. The one muscle of mine that's bigger than his are both my biceps, and he's confessed that he never feels safer than when he's got his hands on them and I've got my arms wrapped around him.

Then he's really crying. Big, shoulder shaking sobs that sound like the ones from his breakdown when he found out Dick had died. Or later, that Bruce had. Both lies, as it turns out, but his grief and pain were real. There's a slight worry in the back of my head that I might have pushed too far, that I might have really hurt him, but I breathe it away and don't voice it. Jason won't get anything out of me asking if he's alright.

"That's it," I whisper instead. "That's my good boy. You're so good, babe, you're perfect for me. Perfect."

I keep my praise up as he vents, whispering it in his ear as I stroke his skin and press kisses to his hair; every different way I can think of to make him feel safe and wanted. It takes a while, honestly longer than I thought it would, but eventually that sobbing slows down to just crying, and then down to the slow trickle of tears across my shoulder and the squeezing pressure of Jason's hands as they flex on my arms. I don't stop speaking until he lets go, and I hear him draw in a deep, steadying breath.

Then I pull back just a touch, just enough that I can see his face. "Hey, babe," I whisper, as his eyes focus up at me. He looks wrecked, eyes red-rimmed and face flushed red, still sniffling a bit with every breath, but I think he's perfect and beautiful and I can't help wanting to tell him that. "Welcome back, gorgeous."

He takes in another breath, and his upper hand settles on my side. "Hey," he answers, and yeah, he sounds wrecked too. "That…"

"I didn't push too far, did I?" I ask, trying to keep the worry off of my face.

He pauses, and then gives a slow shake of his head. "I think… I think you pushed just far enough." His mouth curls into a smile that's a bit shaky, but it fades away again within about two seconds. "It felt good. It felt…" He gives a slightly breathless laugh, and his fingers clench down on my side. "You're right. Cleansing. I wouldn't have let you if I knew what you were going to do."

I give a small shrug, and a soft smile. "I figured." I stroke my fingers down the side of his jaw. "Not awful though? I mean, it really was good?"

His arm loops further around my back, and he pulls me in a bit closer. "It…" He swallows, and his gaze drops away from mine. "You pushed me to places I didn't want to go, made me honest, and I… It hurt, but I'm glad you did." He looks back up at me as I relax, the worry slipping out of my mind. "Just don't do it again, alright? Not for at least like, a month."

I smile. "Of course, Jay. I swear, you get to choose when or if this ever happens again." I lean in and tilt his face up so I can kiss him, catch the edge of salt on my tongue before I press my forehead against his and pull him tighter to me. "For tonight; anything you want, babe."

He lets out a long, shaking breath. "How about you just stay right here and hold me?"

I smile, kiss him again. "Done. And Jay, by the way, I meant every word. Believe them?"

Jason's still for a long moment, and it almost makes me panic, before he shifts his head in a small nod. "Sometimes." Another pause, and then, "Roy? I… I think you almost made me believe what I said too. Thank you."

"Anytime, babe."