Hand jobs? Sure, they got those all the time. Blow jobs by the dozen (well maybe that was an exaggeration). Rubbing off on each other in bed, in the shower, you name it. And it was good, mind-blowing even, white-hot, but what Jason wanted most right now was Dick Grayson's perfectly muscled, flexible, oh-so-bite-able butt.
So what? A man couldn't be blamed. Hell, nobody could.
But Dick wasn't having any of it. He'd announced (not discussed, even though he'd insisted that's what they'd done) that Jason needed time to relax, feel truly comfortable being with him. This was sissy-speak. What he meant was Jason wasn't yet able to trust either himself, Dick, or both of them.
But there was another possibility-maybe Dick didn't trust him. Which was completely understandable after the way Jason had come back into his life. Nothing but lies on top of lies. So Jason had to put up with it.
Two weeks after the asylum, and Jason and Dick hadn't resumed full-out, balls to the wall sex. It was a crime was what it was, though Jason hadn't been able to convince Dick of it.
But at least the hatred Jason carried at all times had died down a little, or found a place somewhere within to rest. Which left him free to cater to his other obsession: sex with Dick.
And round and round he went.
He kept working the small-time clean-ups, only in Bludhaven instead of Gotham since he stayed there the most. Dick said Bludhaven's petty crime element was like cleaning algae from a pool-it came back the minute you let it alone. Jason couldn't-wouldn't-do this forever, and he didn't know what he'd do if something bigger caught his eye away from Bludhaven...but for now he let the future unwind its own way. Which wasn't easy for a guy who ordinarily planned as obsessively as he did.
One thing he knew. He didn't intend to walk away from this thing between them.
Last night on patrol Dick had ridden Jason's motorcycle. Naturally he'd gotten the body dinged up.
"First time out, Dick," Jason said pointedly.
Dick had the nerve to grin at him, though he'd taken it to a shop first thing this morning.
Bruce invited them to dinner. That evening, Bruce, Jason and Dick had dinner at the manor, served by Alfred. First time together in literally years. It was awkward. There were a few good moments, and the conversation found its footing, but it was by no stretch of the word comfortable.
Jason had a lot of left-over feelings toward Bruce, things that didn't know how to disappear after years of wearing tracks in his head-not even after the man offered to kill for him.
He still couldn't get over that, and the look on Bruce's face at the asylum. He was pretty sure Dick couldn't, either.
After dinner Alfred drove them home, the city streetlights flashing in through the car windows. Jason rolled down his window and let the humidity inside. Dick glanced at him and did the same. Jason saw Alfred give them the stink-eye in the rearview, but he said nothing. He'd have to raise his voice, anyway, with the wind roaring through.
Once at Dick's apartment, Jason couldn't settle down. He thought about heading out, checking the neighborhood for activity, but the idea held no real appeal. He jittered his foot restlessly by the side of the coffee table until the whole floor shook.
Dick's hand clamped down on his high. "Will you cut it out." He was watching some nature show, hyenas versus lions. Jason didn't know why he bothered-he saw them everyday out on the streets.
Jason jumped up, annoyed for no real reason, went into the kitchen and came back with a water bottle. He slugged half the contents down noisily, still standing. Dick glanced back at him, back at the TV screen.
"What I did to you-"
Dick craned his neck to look at him, startled.
"It was unforgivable. You said that."
"You mean the drugs, right?"
"Of course the drugs. And the lies."
"I also said I forgave you anyway, dumb ass, or didn't you hear that part?"
"What I want to know is why?"
Dick pressed a button to mute the TV.
"Never mind," Jason muttered. He bent down over the back of the couch, curled a hand under Dick's chin and hauled him back to kiss him upside-down. Their mouths were a weird fit that way, but Jason liked it. He wiggled a hand down into the neckline of Dick's shirt, stroking over warm, smooth skin.
Dick pulled his mouth away, tried to catch his breath. "Well, why'd you forgive me for taking advantage of you?"
Jason stared down at him, tugged at a lock of hair. "What in hell are you talking about?"
"I mean I kissed you first."
Jason blinked. "You mean all those years ago?"
Dick nodded, at least a little. Jason still had hold of his hair.
"For fuck's sake, are you serious?"
"It was an impressionable age for you," Dick protested.
Jason laughed. "I used to jack off thinking about you sucking me off by then, you know that?"
Dick's eyes grew round. "The hell you did."
Jason laughed harder. He wiggled his brows, finally managing to get out, "Oh, but I did." He leaned over and kissed Dick again, gentle little kisses. "You've spent years worrying over that, haven't you," he said against Dick's mouth.
"No," Dick said without conviction. He offered up his mouth again and they kissed more, long and leisurely, mouths sliding together, slow nips and tongue touches. The TV screen flickered bloody images of lions eating prey, of hyenas harassing lions trying to eat their prey.
Jason climbed over the back of the couch and pushed Dick until he was lying prone, then lay on him, and it was already too long apart to bear, his lips crashing onto Dick's again, fingers in Dick's thick black hair. He rubbed his hands over the short hairs bristling at Dick's neckline. It was like rubbing fingers over a shoe brush, somehow completely satisfying. His dick was trapped, hot and tight in his jeans, but he couldn't stop to adjust himself. Instead he reached under Dick's body, grabbed his ass with both hands and squeezed.
His ass was just-there were no words.
"This isn't the produce aisle at the store."
"If it was I'd be arrested," Jason answered and brought their lips together again, hot slick mouths hungry for each other. Jason's cock was too hard, pulsing desperately in confinement. It was a miserable heaven.
Then Dick's hand was at his jeans, unzipping, unbuttoning, springing Jason's cock free. Jason nearly jumped off the couch at the touch. The cool air was indescribable.
"Can't have you spraining your dick, right?" Dick smiled at him with those white teeth, pleased smile.
Jason laughed again, helpless, then watched with widening eyes as Dick licked his hand from palm to fingers in one wide swipe of his tongue and then wrapped it, hot and wet, around Jason's cock. He jacked him once and held it, squeezing the head.
Jason groaned, despairing. "Will we ever get to fuck again?" he whispered, not caring if he sounded pathetic.
"You think we're ready?" Dick's eyes glinted, sly, slaughter on the TV screen an unholy backdrop.
Jason shrugged, though his heart hammered and he felt as if every bit of blood in his body had gathered at his dick to throb and beg for relief.
Dick squeezed his cock again, pitiless. "Tough guy. The bedroom?"
Jason blinked and nodded.
"All the blood left your brain?"
Jason stood, held out his hand. "Enjoying this at my expense is not an honorable thing to do."
"Not honorable. Huh." Dick's eyes were soft, affectionate. He followed when Jason tugged him into the bedroom. "Somebody's been watching too many Klingons."
Jason switched on the bedroom lamp, then tugged at the hem of Dick's shirt. Dick raised his arms obligingly. Jason had him then-twisted the shirt around his wrists and held them captive in the air. He bent to a dark nipple, thrummed and lashed it with his tongue.
Dick stumbled backward, hit the wall, and Jason was on him in an instant. He bit and licked and sucked at the nipple until Dick was shivering and panting, helpless. Slowly he untangled the shirt, pulling it all the way off. Dick's eyes were swallowed in dark pupil. He licked his lips and lowered his arms. He reached out for the bulge in Jason's open pants, rubbed firmly up and down.
Jason closed his eyes, groaning.
They undressed, frantic unzipping, buttons undone, shoes tossed. Jason straightened to stare at Dick.
Graceful neck, powerful shoulders, hard muscle. Beautiful.
Perfect.
Bruce's favorite, perfect son.
No, don't.
His cock jerked, unbearably full. Dick pulled him onto the bed, walking backwards before him, and lay down first, cock jutting proudly in the air, red and veined and thick. Jason's mouth watered. He wanted to suck him, feel the fullness of him, trace the ridges, but he wanted something else more-to sink inside Dick's heat, feel him shudder and tremble, watch his chest and cheeks blush red with need.
Dick reached over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the lube, squeezed a heavy dollop of it into his hand. He spread his legs, squirmed, his fingers finding-
Jason closed his eyes, squeezing the base of his cock. He heard Dick grunt, knew he was opening himself and dared not look.
When he had control he opened his eyes again. Dick's legs were open, nipples peaked into stiff little points. His chest and cheeks were rosy. A thigh muscle twitched. "Hurry," he whispered. His eyes were huge. He licked his lips.
Jason's breath rasped in the room. He went to the side of the bed, lowered himself gently on top of Dick, oh God, all that heat and muscle against his own. The tremendous weight of his own desire was perilously close to overload, and he wondered wildly if his feelings for Dick were just too much. Too intense.
He couldn't think.
Now isn't that sweet? Do you really think a man like Dick Grayson could want a two-bit tire thief like yourself? The Joker tutted in his head. Poor little boy, only a freak could ever truly want you.
No. I'll do anything.
"Jason?"
"What hurts more?" he rasped into Dick's throat, then bit his own tongue until it bled.
Dick turned his head to Jason's ear. "You do. You and me." He moved his mouth against Jason's and kissed him, slow as a dream. Jason kissed him back, trying not to panic. He listened to their breath mingle together, tasted and smelled him-clean skin, shampoo, scent of arousal all Dick's own. Dick had ducked into the bathroom and used their mouthwash at some point. The thought made him smile. He chased the feeling, refusing to turn away from it.
The Joker's voice was still there, not as strong. You lose, he thought at it.
"I want to fuck you," he breathed into Dick's mouth. "Can we fuck?"
"God," Dick rasped, spreading his legs. "Just don't wait for the engraved invitation, yeah?"
Jason grinned and reared back on his knees, squirting lube on his cock. His hand trembled. No fucking matter, he was going in. He rolled Dick up on his back a little, held his legs behind the knees, letting go of one to line himself up. He pushed inside in increments, watching Dick's face, the way he looked at the ceiling and gasped for breath, then clutched at Jason's arm and met his eyes.
Jason shoved forward until he was fully seated. "You okay?" he asked. His thighs trembled. He held himself in check with an effort, not wanting to lose it so soon.
Dick's face was sweaty, his eyes soft, almost unfocused. He smiled, wide and sweet, a little bit lecherous. "Never better."
Jason laughed, letting himself fall into it. He dug in with his knees and began to move, oh, fuck, slow, slow slide, and then Dick wrapped his legs and pulled him in, impatient. Jason got the idea all right, began thrusting, strong and a little rough. Dick groaned, digging in with his heels, moving when Jason moved.
Dick's hips juddered, and he jerked upward, moaning.
Nailed it, Jason thought smugly, thrusting faster until his skin tingled, heat flooding over the surface, rising higher. He clutched at Dick's hips, desperate, pounding in and out. Dick was already straining at him, fingers digging in Jason's arms, ass flexed, frozen into place. Come jetted out of his cock, landing near his chin, then another shot and another. Jason closed his eyes and came, yelling, strong, sucking spasms that pulled him over.
When he could, he opened his eyes. "You okay?" he asked again.
Dick kicked him with his heel for an answer, then loosened his thighs from around Jason's hips. Both of them were drenched in sweat. Jason sighed, slumped on the bed next to Dick and dozed off.
Sometime later a wet cloth hit him in the stomach. He grumbled, picked it up and wiped off some of the mess. Dick was watching him.
"What?"
Dick leaned over, opening the nightstand drawer again. He pulled out a small, square sheet, a single line scrawled in Jason's handwriting.
What hurts most = what I do to Dick in his name
Jason sat up slowly. "You took that from my place?"
Dick nodded.
"You had no right." He mouthed the words. They didn't mean anything.
"I know." Dick grabbed his hand and squeezed. "But this is true for you, not me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just-if you give up. If you leave. That's what hurts most. So don't do that."
Jason looked at him, then looked away, then back. It was hard to believe anyone felt like that about him, let alone Dick. "Okay then." He smiled. "I won't."
"Yeah?" Dick grinned at him, delighted.
Jason leaned over and kissed the smile.
