It was a bit like Jason was outside of himself; he was aware of his body -and the awkward fact his cock seemed to have gotten harder under Batman's stare - but everything else was distant. Even sounds were muted - except for the slick, sex noises, which seemed almost ridiculously loud in his ears.
Dick was oblivious. This was a good example as to why having sex on the job was frowned upon - even the best of the best could be distracted and lose sight of their surroundings. He pushed Dick's head down onto the concrete, trying to work through the fog and decide on a course of action. He didn't stop the motion of his hips as he looked back at the man casting the shadow. Batman's face was impassive but there was fury radiating from him – the air was charged with it and the feeling was electrifying. Batman seemed poised to attack but appeared frozen in place, just as Jason felt like his brain had turned to treacle. The waves of rage that were rolling off him were hitting Jason like a drug and he got lost in it for a time - his desire for Bruce's attention had never wavered over the years and now he had it so powerfully he never wanted to let it go.
He distantly registered Dick squirming under him, almost thrashing, there was noise but he couldn't make it out.
"Jay! Jay stop! Jason!"
He snapped back. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to carry on until there was nothing left but the three of them wrapped in blood, but he won't, wouldn't. Dick was struggling in an effort to break free and he was going to hurt himself, so Jason tried to hold him still so he could withdraw gently. The tension in his brother's body was squeezing him tight as a clamp, and despite everything he was still hard and throbbing.
Then Bruce was moving towards him in a rush of furious black and gray.
The impact tore him away from Dick, who cried out in shock or pain. Jason tried to see him, to get to him but it was hard - priorities were complicated when the Batman was punching you in the face and your cock was hanging out your pants.
His head was ringing from the blows and he wished he had been wearing his helmet. Everything was moving fast. Dick flew out of the darkness and pushed Bruce away from him - that should have meant something, but the only thing he could feel was dull shock. He fell back on his hands, his traitorous cock still full, slick and red. Batman was glaring at him over Nightwing's shoulder with the force of a freight train and Jason felt a smile slide over his face like a knife. This might be the biggest fuck you he had ever given, but he couldn't feel much of anything.
This reaction just wasn't normal. He was a fighter, and used to difficult and traumatic situations, but there was something about this that had knocked the sense right out of his head. This was why you weren't supposed to get close to people he chided himself, it makes you week and stupid. He barely held back a hysterical giggle.
"How long have you been there?" Dick's voice was fraught and desperate sounding, like he was afraid of the answer.
"Long enough," Batman said in a flat growl. "Too long" he added after a moment, eyes still on Jason.
Those words were like needles in Jason's flesh. Dick had turned to look at him and his face was stiff with fury. Jason felt he had emerged from a stupor – the past few minuets replayed in his mind and he wished he still couldn't feel anything, as now he was full of an anxious guilt - and doubt. Lots of doubt.
"What is this?" Bruce asked and despite the frigid temperature of his voice, he seemed unsure of how to react. His question had encompassed the whole situation but Jason couldn't help but feel there was another layer to it. The whole thing was probably a bit of a shock to start with, but he seemed to be more perplexed by Nightwing preventing him from attacking Jason. Like he might have thought Jason had been assaulting Dick; like it might have not been consensual.
The rage that bubbled in Jason's gut at that idea threatened to spill out his mouth at any moment. If things weren't so fucked up, he might have listened to the little voice in his mind telling him that Bruce was too smart for that. They had been traveling for over a week and there was no way Jason was holding Dick captive - if there hadn't been such a roaring in his ears he might have kept his stupid trap shut.
Some times his mouth was his own worst enemy, his knee jerk need to stay on top and avoid weakness led to him saying stupid shit – and this occasion was a prime example.
"Exactly what it looks like, your Golden Boy on his knees for me." Even as he said it he wanted to bite it back, but he couldn't. And he wouldn't – not with Batman standing there the lines of his mouth taut with rage. He knew what he was thinking – that Jason had done this to get revenge, that Dick was a victim of manipulation. It was what he would rather think – well, it was better that than the alternative.
Six months ago he might have been right, but not now, and in some distant part of his brain he realized he had given Bruce exactly what he wanted to hear. Fuck.
He couldn't see Dick's eyes behind his mask, but the expression on his face was angry and pained. Jason knew he was going to get his ass kicked for that comment. Or Dick would just leave. A beating he could take – would take if it could fix things - but he was horrified to find his throat tightening at the thought of the latter.
He was a self sufficient adult. He made a point of not letting other people dictate his actions or his life, but Dick was all under his skin and the thought of him leaving was terrifying.
He snarled at the two men in front of him, almost overcome by anger and fear, and unexpectedly Dick came to his rescue – for now at least. He approached him, outwardly calm but still angry. Jason could read it in the lines of his body. Meanwhile, Bruce was still as stone, watching the play off between his two ex protégés. He was assessing, reassessing, his face was composed again, and Jason hated him for it. He hated himself too – negative attention from Bruce was still attention, and he wanted it however he could get it.
That fight within himself was an old one, but it was doubly bitter now, because Nightwing was what actually mattered. And Nightwing was extremely pissed at him. Before he could blink Dick was in his face, the white-out lenses of his mask staring up at him, blank and stern.
"Jason, leave now." Dick said. He sounded calm and no-nonsense, but Jason could hear the strain - because he was so used to the slight nuances of his brothers voice, minor tone changes. God it was scary.
He reached out a hand, only slightly so the gesture was blocked from view by Dick's body. "I'm not leaving you here," he said.
Dick batted his hand away. "If you have any concern for me or for the last week and a half, you will leave now. Go back to the motel."
Jason opened his mouth and Dick cut him off. "Now, Jason."
Despite the rage in his belly, and despite the part of him that wanted to teach Dick a lesson about not ordering him around, he backed down and nodded his head - although he sent one last glare at Bruce. Dick had turned his back on him, so he grabbed his helmet and swung to the edge of the roof. When he jumped, for once the rushing wind against his face did nothing to center him.
.
Back at the motel he stashed his gear, got a beer from the cooler and sat back on the bed. He flicked out a smoke – breaking house rules by doing so in the room and as he did so, he wondered if Dick would just leave, or if he'd come back first, have it out, or say goodbye. It probably depended on what he had taken away from Jason mouthing off, and from the fact Jason hadn't let him up immediately – god that burnt him inside when he thought about it. Right now he was exactly what Batman and the others thought he was, what he was scared of being, and no doubt Bruce was drilling that into Dickie's head.
He wanted to throw up, but instead he took a long swallow of beer, then another. When he was done he got another bottle.
It was a long wait.
.
Dick stalked into the room, already dressed in civvies. His face was pale and tight. "Jason how could you!" he yelled before he was even inside the door. Not a good start.
"Do what?" Jason kept his voice calm and bland.
"You know what! You let him watch!"
Oh that. That was what he had been hoping they could avoid until he was drunk enough to blurt out his feelings. As it was the guilty pain in his gut made him lash out.
"He deserved it!" That wasn't even a lie.
"Not to him, to me!"
And that was the crux of it. "You could have used your safe word," he said, not feeling any strength to his words.
"I shouldn't have had to," Dick snarled at him. He was prowling around the room, looking like a hungry big cat with a wounded paw. Jason could tell he was going to lash out at any moment.
"I'm sorry." The words were a surprise, although Jason meant them wholeheartedly. "I really am. I… wasn't myself for a moment there."
Dick took a long calming breath. "I am glad to hear that - I needed to hear it." He placed his hands on the rickety table, almost upsetting the three empty bottles Jason had left there. "Now I need you to tell me that what you said wasn't true, and that what he said was wrong"
"Depends what he said."
"That us being together was about getting back at him," Dick said, trying and failing to sound calm.
"What do you think Dick?" Jason didn't even bother trying to pretend to be composed – the question made him furious.
"Just tell me! I'll believe you if you tell me!"
He shouldn't have to. He wasn't sure if he was right or wrong, and he was too worked up to figure it out - all he knew was that if Dick actually knew him after these last two weeks, these last few months, then he shouldn't have to ask the question.
"No, I wont tell you shit!" Jason said, but as his words formed, all he could think was choose me! Don't listen to him, choose me!
Perhaps it was unfair, either way. After the events of the evening he probably deserved the fist that flew into his face, although the sickening crunch of his nose breaking under the impact was pretty unpleasant.
He fell to the floor with a thud - his ass hurt with the collision, but the pain radiating from his face was more distracting. He watched as Dick spun on his heels and stormed out the door and as it slammed Jason's mind was swimming. How could everything have got so fucked up? How could he have let this happen to himself? After everything, how could he be so pathetic?
But mostly he couldn't shake off the sound Dick made just before he punched him; something strangled and pained, something heartbroken and lost.
That sound was exactly what Jason felt now and it hurt more than his broken nose and the black eye from Bruce combined. If he had not been who he was, he might have cried -but instead, he heaved himself to his feet. He was going to need something a lot stronger than beer to get through this shit.