Title: You'd do well to remember my name.

Author: me

Pairing: W/C, of course

Rating: ... I'd say R. But ya'll know what to expect from me.

Summary: A one night stand at Princeton.

Disclaimer: Belongs to DC, and WB... WBDC.

Warning: ...sex... blinks Oh... And it's DEFINITELY a pwp. Also unedited. Heh. Yeah. It's just general terribleness with a title.

Notes: Takes place at Princeton... Um... Since I like for there to be an age difference between Bruce and Jonathan... I'm gonna say that... Jonathan is 18, and Bruce is 23. This takes place shortly before Bruce returns for Chill's release, and when he runs off into the urban wild.

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Bruce wandered the quad, not at all concerned about the midterm he would be subjected to in less than nine hours. The one for which he hadn't cracked a textbook once. Stress was for those who had an average to maintain for their scholarships.

Rather, his mind strayed to his dorm room. Which was, at the moment, occupied by his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend. A girl who had been kind enough to relate to the entire student body, as soon as she found out, about his sexual inclinations. His roommate had apologized, but continued to adore the bitch. And have wild sexathons with her on a frequent basis. Which was why Bruce was wandering the quad.

He began to stray from the familiar path, choosing some invisible path across the grass to a section of the campus less well lit. Not many feet from where he meandered, Bruce noticed a lone person sitting on one of the many benches, holding something that had steam rising from it. And muttering, rapidly, to himself.

In the, nearly nonexistent, light, he could make out the other's profile. Thin, longish wavy hair, generally straight posture. Just the type of man he sought out on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis. And in the dark, he could easily imagine a beautiful face to go with the enticing form. Not to say that his mind automatically strayed to such thoughts... Not to say that it didn't.

As he came closer, he realized that the muttering was actually chemical formulas. Very familiar formulas. It occurred to him, distantly, that he must have repeated them to himself thousands of times, back in his freshman year.

"Larson?" he said, when the distance had lessened significantly, just to watch the other jump. Seeing as Bruce's presence appeared wholly undetected. To his disappointment and mild surprise the other didn't so much as blink. Or he thought the other man didn't. It was difficult to tell with the lack of light.

"I beg your pardon?" The mumblings tapered off, and he was answered in an obviously annoyed voice.

"Professor Larson. Are you in his class? Because I noticed you were going over his lessons." The subject being advanced chemistry, which Bruce had loathed, yet did quite well in.

"Yes." was the short answer, and Bruce grinned, pleased at how highstrung this other student was. Hoping he could rattle the man's cage. If only a little. For the sake of sport, and distraction from boredom.

"I'm Bruce Wayne." He said, extending a hand to the other.

"Yes. I know." his hand was accepted and shaken rather loosely, an obvious testament that the other was both uninterested in chatting, and annoyed at his presence.

"Excuse me if I'm being presumptuous... But wouldn't it be easier to study somewhere with... um... Light?"

"It might be. I work better in the dark, though." was the clipped answer.

"So do I..." Bruce continued on, mind settling on the slim chance that he could enjoy himself as his roommate was currently doing. A meaningless fuck could so easily remain just that, in the dark. And his reputation had already been ruined. He may as well enjoy himself a few more times before everyone knew. (As though they didn't already.)

For the first time, that Bruce had noticed, the other looked up. Calculating him, slowly. There was a long pause, before the smaller man finally moved aside, coffee in hand. Allowing Bruce space to sit. Which he did.

Bruce's suspicions were confirmed. Or nearly confirmed.

"Anything I should know about Larson's exam?" the student broached, slowly.

"Yes. It's complete bullshit. He'll spend an entire month making the class dread it, and cram their heads with hundreds of compounds and formulas, when everything you need to know came from the first week of class. From what you were muttering, I'd say you have it down."

"That's good to know..." The other muttered, softly.

"So what's your name?" Bruce asked, subtly moving just a little bit closer than propriety dictated. Yet another test.

"Jon." was the short answer.

"Jon..." Bruce tried it out on his tongue. Tongue eager to try Jon out.

"You know... Jon... Most of the freshman class is partying right now... Or getting laid. And here you are, studying." it wasn't a question, in the strictest sense, but all the same a response was expected.

"Most freshman are better at making friends than I am." the reply was surprisingly bitter, but it didn't deter Bruce. He was leaning in, now, reveling in the other's slight squirming.

"What do you want?" Jon finally spat, facing Bruce with a scowl that was obvious, even in the dark. But his breathing was quick. Voice breathless and concerned, rather than truly angry. Not a response that Bruce had ever received from straight students, and nothing to indicate that he should leave while he was ahead.

"Just for you to enjoy your evening like the other freshman are..."

"I'm not interested in partying."

"Neither am I." With little warning, other than his previously slow inclination towards the other, Bruce crushed his own lips to Jon's, hand tangling in the shaggy hair, to hold him in place.

Thin hands scrabbled, momentarily, at his chest before gripping his shirt tightly. Wrinkling the material, and even ripping at his shirt pocket. While Jon strived at giving back to the kiss almost as good as he got. Bruce demanded more, however, pushing at the smaller man until he was leaning quite far back. Only holding himself up by his deathgrip on what had been a new shirt.

"We're on the fucking quad!" Jon hissed, forcing his mouth from Bruce's. The larger man growled, irritated at unexpected loss.

"Who cares?" Well... the police, for one, passed through Jon's mind before he, again, found himself being ravished.

Strong hands yanked at his legs, tilting him all the way back. Legs wrapped, reluctantly around the older man's waist, as his coffee lay dripping on the ground, entirely forgotten.

Pleased with himself for moving things into the right position, Bruce ground against the other, denim-clad erections rubbing, maddeningly together.

After a few minutes of this unsatisfying friction, Bruce stood, pulling Jonathan up, and arranging him so that he was kneeling, forearms resting on the back of the bench. And Jon rolled his eyes, unseen, at being treated as some inflatable doll, rather than a live person. Bruce, somehow, missed the annoyance.

Yanking Jon's jeans down, he began to unzip his own fly, while he reached for his wallet, cussing softly when he realized he'd forgotten it in his dorm.

"Do you have a condom?" He questioned hoarsely, as Jon shifted, uncomfortably.

"Why would I have a fucking condom?" was snapped back. Irritation at the chilliness of the night, and his partial nudity finally showing in his demeanor as well as his voice. Forgetting to take into account, the publicness of the setting.

"Just wondering..." Bruce said, spitting on his palms, and coating his erection.

Satisfied at his ingenuity, he lined himself up, and began to rock forward, into the tight opening before him. Jon hissed, once, but was otherwise, completely silent. Hands gripping at the wood beneath him.

"Jesus..." Bruce gasped by way of asking if the other was ready. Not his most eloquent phrasing, to date... But understood, nonetheless.

"Shut up, and move already." Jon ground out, pushing back as much as the steel grip on his hips would allow.

And, when Bruce decided Jon was ready, he did begin to move. Slightly put-off by the lack of response he received.

"Are you awake?" he asked, finally, jerking on the student's hips a bit too hard.

"Are you fucking me, or studying for a quiz, yourself?" Jon returned, voice so sniping that Bruce had to smile. Alright, then.

Moved by the silent challenge, Bruce set out to break the other's reserve. And was rewarded a few times with low cries. Generally when he changed the angles of his thrusts, suddenly. In a more private setting, Bruce would've made sure the other was a quivering mass beneath him. As it was, he was nearing his peak, and in no mood to coerce the other to any spectacular show of vocals. The few deep moans would have to suffice.

"Oh..." The only indication that Jon had found his own release... Aside from muscles that clenched excruciatingly, drawing Bruce into his own orgasm. With a hiss, he pulled back, adjusting his jeans. Waiting a few moments, as basic courtesy dictated, while Jonathan gathered himself. Finally he turned over, drawing his jeans over narrow hips, in a movement so fluid, that Bruce almost regretted leaving.

Jon's coffee was ruined; spilled out over the grass. And studying was now the farthest thing from his mind, which was occupied by thoughts of his dorm room... A shower, and then his dorm.

"Um..." he began, not generally at a loss for words, and mildly aggravated that now, of all times, speech failed him.

Satisfied that the slighter student was uninjured by their encounter, and had gathered himself, Bruce smiled (unseen.)

"I'll be seeing you around." With that, he turned, and began walking back towards the lighted part of the quad, wondering if his roommate's bitch of a girlfriend had left, yet.

Back at the bench Jon trembled, slightly, in anger (and, admittedly, from the cold) to have been used as he was and then left with a casual parthian shot. Feeling more than a little vindictive toward 'Bruce Wayne'.

Now warm and comfortable, in his dorm room, Bruce turned out the overhead lamp, above his bed... Already having forgotten the other student's name...

For now.

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FIN