There were very few absolutes in this crazy world of theirs, but he had no doubts that this was true in any time, in any universe, in any fate. Bruce, not Batman, not Brucie Wayne, was the center of everything. Every miracle, every death, every time his heart skipped a beat, every time there was blood on his hands; it was all because of Bruce, it was all for Bruce. Jason Todd revolved, orbited, around Bruce, had built his life, his beliefs, his identity, around the older man. He wasn't perfect, far from it actually, but maybe that's what made him so appealing for Jason. And he knew that Bruce was just a man, just human, but that mattered very little.

From the moment he had first laid eyes on the Batman, Jason was ruined. It was just a glimpse as the vigilante swung past his window, but to him, it looked like he was flying. And maybe it began because life had been unkind, people even more so, but the Gotham Bat was salvation. No one cared about the kids on the street like him, no one except the Bat. He was only terrifying to those who deserved his wrath. Otherwise, he was a Dark Knight. He carried kids out of the slums in his own arms, out of the dark and into the light. And Jason prayed every night that he would come back and take him too.

And then it actually happened. It was years later, and Jason was more jaded now, more angry at the world. But not at the Batman, because surely he was saving those kids who were even worse off than him, the child prostitutes and the drug runners, the ones who died in gang shootings for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was squatting in the place where the woman who had raised him had died, had been murdered by that bastard. It was traumatic, sure, but he knew this building like the back of his hand, knew where to hide and where to escape, knew who to ask for food and who to avoid. So imagine his surprise when he looked down and saw the fanciest car that he had ever seen in this area. Jason had no idea how it had parked so close without him hearing it, because surely it couldn't be that quiet. It looked custom, armored, and he imagined it was a drug dealer or crime boss who owned it.

Jason was hungry, and he needed money. And surely fucking over some asshole would give him some good karma, make him some type of Robin Hood (how ironic, looking back now). So he took his trusty crowbar (also ironic) and headed down, into Crime Alley. Imagine his surprise when instead of a gangbanger looming over him, he found the Batman. Or more accurately, the Bat found him. He was working on his third tire when he looked up to see the caped crusader just watching him calmly. His first instinct was to panic of course, he'd ruined everything surely. He had been caught red handed stealing, from the vigilante himself no less. And Jason wondered how stupid he was to not realize who the car, the Batmobile now that he was paying attention, belonged to. Now, what he should've done is fall to his knees and apologize. The Bat was merciful, at least to the children. What he actually did was swing his crowbar at the other and run. He didn't make it very far.

He honestly thought he'd lost his pursuer when suddenly there was a tug on his hood and his feet completely left the ground. Looking back, he's sure he resembled some kind of kitten picked up by their scruff.

But then he was flying, soaring, shooting upwards. And it was because of the Batman. For a moment, everything melted away until it was just them, just him and the Gotham Bat, alone together against this city, against the world. Jason's sure that the grin on his face must've looked out of place, manic even, but the person carrying him didn't seem to mind. When they landed, it was in the relative safety of the roof of his very own building. And while the vigilante didn't say anything, he was clearly looking at Jason expectantly. His response was stuttered and half-assed of course, and once he began to outright ramble, telling the other his entire life story at this point, he could almost see the exact moment that the Bat stiffened.

"And where does this man live?" It was the first words that he had spoken all night, the first words he had spoken to Jason period. But their meaning was not lost on him. The Bat had let him speak, had listened in a way most adults didn't, and here he was, prepared to exact justice, Jason's revenge. And then it was a struggle to get the other to allow him to watch, let alone participate, but it was worth it.

And at the end of the night, the Batman picked him up in his arms and carried him out of Crime Alley. His suit wasn't comfortable, the exact opposite really, but Jason wouldn't trade this for anything. He was tired, but he was safe, maybe for the first time in his life. And then when he was finally put down, it was into the Batmobile itself. He almost fell asleep, waiting as the Bat put back on his removed tires, but the other never complained or mentioned it.

Instead of some glamorous new life, however, he was deposited at some sort of orphanage, though it was more of a prison. And the Bat left without another word, just a pat on his head.

He waited days for the vigilante to come back, but he didn't. And Jason began to stew, to rage. He had been abandoned, had been left alone by the one that was supposed to care. Most importantly, he was hurt, he was crushed. Was this the Bat's salvation? While his life wasn't in immediate danger, he still wasn't safe. Now, he was just in a foreign and strange environment. He asserted his dominance quickly, of course, unwilling to let the other kids walk right over him. It wasn't hard. He knew realistically that he was a child, but seeing the others fighting over toys and candy didn't sit right with him, and it made him a sort of outcast.

And then there was a blazing fire of hope, lit within his little malnourished chest (he will admit the orphanage was good for something at least). When he finally got his head out of his ass, he realized that this place, while it looked like a prison, was actually some sort of sweat shop, built upon the sweat and tears of child labor. In other words, the lady that ran this place was a criminal, so this must actually be some sort of test, set forth by the Batman for him. How had he dared to judge the vigilante so harshly when the other had merely put an obstacle in his path, just to see what he would do. And Jason had to be smart about this, he wanted to impress the other after all. So he had to make sure that he had irrefutable proof of her crimes first. And then he would need to detain her and free the others, something easier said than done, especially when killing her wasn't an option. The Batman didn't condone killing, for any reason, so thus he had to follow the rules.

He managed, though it took months of undercover effort and physical labor. But when the criminal was caught, and the Bat was back, he knew that he had passed the test. There was pride in the vigilante's eyes, there was no mistaking it, though the other still didn't smile. He had a reputation to keep after all.

And when the Gotham Knight took him this time, it was to his own house. Well, technically it was a cave under the Wayne Estate, but still, the point remained.

When the Batman sat him down in the Batcave and removed his cowl, it was love at first sight for Jason. Because while this was the man known as Bruce Wayne, it was also the man who had inspired him, who had saved him. His eyes were lined and smudged with black, and his hair was sweaty and oddly shaped from hours under his costume, but there was no one more beautiful, more handsome, to the teenager.

He was allowed to choose any room in the manor, so of course he picked the one across the hall from Bruce. It was expected that he be formally educated, which Jason didn't mind. He needed to become someone worthy, and an education was crucial to that. Not that Jason minded; he loved reading and learning, and it gave him something more to bond with the man behind the Bat.

That only part that rubbed Jay the wrong way was that Bruce seemed to think of him as a son, as a child. And he didn't want to be the next Dick Grayson, someone who could be thrown away; he wanted to be more. He wanted to be by the Bat's side forever, by Bruce's side. He wanted the man to be his and no one else's.

So when Bruce introduced him to Selena, the Catwoman, he did his best to break them up (not that they needed his assistance). And when Dick came crawling back, trying to regain the Robin mantle that he had thrown away, he made sure that the other knew that Jay would never be his brother as long as he got in his way.

And then it was just him and his guardian (and Alfred), in the house, on the battlefield. He tried to spend as much time as possible with the Bat; becoming Robin, asking the other to help him with his homework, learning how to bake and cook just to impress the man, etc. His favorite times were when it was just them, reading quietly together or watching a movie. Jason could cuddle right up to Bruce, could lay in his lap, and the other would just smile softly and play with his hair. He adored how the man felt under him. It felt right, it felt like forever, it felt like fate. There were hiccups of course, given how impatient and stubborn he could be, but Bruce never took it the wrong way. Even when Jason was screaming in his face, those eyes never lost their affection. It made him feel special, invincible.

But he wasn't.

The beginning of the end occurred when he started to get too violent. It was all to protect Bruce, but the other didn't see it that way. The Dark Knight wanted Robin to remain his sidekick, wanted him to play the part rather than actually fight. And Jason wanted to be an equal, wanted to be seen as more than a child.

And then that scumbag fell to his death. He hadn't meant to kill the man, just scare him. But there was something resigned in Bruce's eyes as he removed him from active duty; something doubtful and sad. It hurt more than anything, knowing that he had disappointed the person he cared about most. He didn't give a shit about the life that had ended; he only thought of Bruce.

He was raging out against it, trying to regain what he had lost but only pushing the Wayne away more and more. The whole situation with his birth mother was just meant to be a distraction. And then it ended with him dying alone in a warehouse.

And Jason was glad that Bruce was too late, because then it meant the man was okay. His only regret was not telling him how he truly felt.

When he woke up, it was hard to breathe and everything was dark. The boy tried to scream, but no one could hear him. He had to claw his way free, through something wooden and through so many feet of wet earth. And the words on the stone next to him meant nothing to him; his name meant nothing to him. The only thing he could think, could feel, could remember was Bruce; was soft blue eyes and softer black sweaters. Even as he wandered around, screaming his name, even as he was being taken by strange people to an even stranger place where they restrained him; nothing mattered but that name, that person.

He was there for what felt like a long time, his mind unable to heal, before the woman came and claimed him. She was a liar, he knew better than to trust her, but she said that she knew Bruce, that she would take him to the man. So he went with her.

And then there was the Lazarus Pit. The woman, Talia, told him that it would fix him. It did, to be fair, but the price was steep. The pit felt like it was acid, dissolving him until he was just bones. And then he could remember everything, even those childhood memories that he had suppressed. There was no past or present, there was no Joker or Jason; his thoughts of Bruce were the only things that he could trust, could use to keep him from being eroded away. He isn't sure how many he killed escaping, but he didn't care. He knew where his beloved was, and nothing would stop him from returning to him.

Gotham was home, and it welcomed him with open arms; with polluted air, burnt out streetlights, and rain. He set up on his favorite gargoyle in the city, waiting for a glimpse of the Batman, for the sound of a rappelling line. And when Jason heard it coming his way, he felt like his heart was about to exploded. He had missed the other so much, had felt so sorry for how stupid he had been to trust someone from his past. His own actions had resulted in his death, had taken Bruce away from him.

The Dark Knight came into view, and every nerve in his body came alive, watching intently. He could see everything, even from here. And worst, it meant that he noticed the familiar figure following closely behind; Robin. But it wasn't Dick, that was for sure. Which meant that this child was new, had taken up the mantle.

All it meant to Jason was that he had been replaced, had been forgotten. He thought that people were supposed to see red when overwhelmed with anger, but all he could see was brilliant green, acid green, eating everything away. There wasn't truly a term for how furious, how devastated, the dead bird felt. It all boiled down to Bruce, just like it always had.

Jason hadn't meant as much to him as he had tricked himself into believing. The Bat had taken on a new Robin, he had left the Joker alive; but Bruce had taken in a new child to care about, had moved on. He didn't blame the man; how could he? It was Jason's own fault for dying, the Joker's fault for killing him, and this new Robin's fault for being born.

He wanted Bruce to be healthy and happy, he loved the man after all, but the green haze made it so he didn't care more about that than the man being his. It was selfish and dark, he knew, but he hadn't ever wanted anything else, anything more.

So he began his plan, to get rid of everything and everyone that would keep him and Bruce apart. If there was no replacement, he could return to his side. Everything could go back to the way it had been.

And to ensure that the Batman would forgive him for his previous crimes, for dying, he would stop crime in Gotham. He would get the Joker out of the picture, the Black Mask, Two Face. Jason would get rid of organized crime by taking it all over. After all, what better way to control crime than by being the person pulling the strings? Some crimes were forgivable, were necessary, and surely Bruce would see that.

So he donned the Red Hood and got to work. It honestly wasn't hard, especially when he just killed those that opposed him. It was harder to keep his name and involvement under wraps, though the Gotham's Greatest Detective caught onto him soon enough. So he began the hints, the clues. It was challenging to keep to his plan, the temptation to shoot the replacement in the head so strong he almost deviated, but it was going to be worth it; Bruce was worth it.

And then came their reunion. The Red Hood was still anger incarnate. He hadn't meant to be cruel, hadn't meant to scream at the Batman. He had wanted to embrace him, had wanted to kiss him. But here he was, trying to get Bruce to break his moral code, to let him kill the Joker. All of his planning, wasted. He had been so careful to only disable the new Robin and Nightwing, because he would do anything for Bruce, even spare those he cared for. Then the Joker had opened his fucking mouth, and the green haze had consumed him.

Jason had ended up getting caught in his own explosion. But it had hurt more, watching the Gotham Knight save the Joker rather than him. He had crawled his way back to his base, bandaging himself help hazardously, all while feeling empty inside. It hadn't been enough, he hadn't been enough. The ex-Robin wasn't sure how much pain medication he had taken, but it was probably too much. If not for the Lazarus Pit's effects, he would've overdosed.

He isn't sure how exactly he had found his cellphone, let alone how he had called Bruce. And when the other man answered, whispering his name softly, he fell apart.

He cried to the other man, about how much he had missed him, about how sorry he was for fucking everything up again. He begged for the other to forgive him, to take him back, to save him, to love him. Jason bawled rather than raged, about how much it hurt, dying, seeing Bruce move on. He wasn't strong enough to take it, wasn't strong enough to stay by the Bat's side forever. He had ruined their reunion.

Bruce was on the other side of line, talking to him the entire time, but Jason couldn't hear any of it, lost in his grief and heartbreak. At some point he had ended up passing out, but not before telling the man where to find him.

"Jay, please wake up." The aforementioned man had thought that he must be dreaming still. Here was Bruce, laying next to him, running his fingers carefully through his hair. But he knew that this was real. This was his shitty mattress on the floor, this was his hair with that cursed white strand, this was the Bruce that he had injured with his own hands. The green didn't stand a chance right now, faced with the one he had always wanted. The man looked older than he remembered, but those eyes were the same, that black sweater was the same, those hands were the same.

"I missed you so much, my Jay-bird. It wasn't your fault, none of it was. If I had been better, if I had kept you safe-"

"You missed me?" His interruption came out small and pathetic, maybe even misbelieving. But it wrought a soft smile out of the other, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now outside of this moment, outside of Bruce.

"Of course I did." It seemed genuine, but things weren't adding up yet for Jason; he wasn't ready to let go of his grudge quite that easily.

"Then why did you replace me?"

"No one could ever replace you," he insisted firmly, eyes blazing like the blue could burn away the green completely, "I grieved you for years, insisted on fighting alone. But then this kid found out about my identity, and he opened my eyes. I had become reckless, vengeful. I needed a Robin, to keep me from becoming a monster. But I never stopped missing my Jay-lad." Fuck, he was so stupid. All this time and he had forgotten what the actual purpose of Robin was, obsessed only with how it had made him feel to be the one with the name.

"Oh. I hurt people, Bruce. And I don't feel bad about the things I did; I only care that it hurt you. I wanted to be your equal, I wanted you to be safe. I wanted it to just be you and me," he admitted, and something like wariness was obvious in Bruce's eyes, but the other seemed to deem it unimportant for now.

"We can talk about that later, when you're healed. For now, come home." And really, what else could he say to that?

"Okay."

He fell asleep for awhile, but when he woke up again, it was to the vigilante trying to sneak out of his old bedroom. While most of it had stayed the same, like a time capsule of sorts, some of the furnishings had been upgraded to suit an adult rather than a teenager. Jason was still wrapped in his blanket from his place, so they must've just returned to the manor.

"Stay with me?" he croaked out before the other could get any further, freezing the man in his tracks.

"Okay, Jay," Bruce allowed without a fight, causing him to blush in the darkness of the room as he came to sit next to him.

"I love you." The dead bird couldn't help but admit, lost in whatever painkillers were still abusing his system and unable to hold the sentiment back anymore.

"I love you too, Jay-lad." It was warm and gentle and not at all what Jason meant, and in that moment, he needed nothing more than to make sure Bruce knew the truth. All these years, and this was how he confessed, but it seemed fitting all the same.

"Not like I love you. You want me to be your son, you want to guide me and keep me safe. But that isn't what I want, what I've always wanted."

"What do you mean?" The older man clearly knew what he was saying, but he didn't seem to believe the younger man. Which he didn't hesitate to remedy, grabbing one of those large hands in a death grip so he couldn't escape.

"I want it to be you and me, forever. I want to be the face you see in the morning when you wake up, I want to be the only one who knows you inside and out. I want to be the one who protects you while you protect Gotham. I want you to be mine," he rambled, boarding on frantic and fanatic, just on the wrong side of passionate. And Bruce, his everything, his world, his reason for crawling out of his own grave, looked horrified. Not disgusted, thankfully, but definitely unsettled.

"Jason, that isn't right. I raised you, and you're too young to want someone like me. It's wrong." And the dead bird couldn't blame him, for denying this. He had expected it after all, despite fantasies of the other taking him into his arms after his confession. But this was the real world, where children got beaten by crowbars and died, and Bruce didn't love him.

"I don't care. And how can it be wrong, I love you. It's just a simple fact of life, like how the grass is green."

"The Pit must've messed with your head-" the man began, looking for excuses. And Jason hated to burst his bubble, but they needed to have this conversation completely; no misunderstandings, no incomplete half-truths and assumptions.

"I've felt this way since I was a child. I loved Batman, and then I loved Bruce. I would do anything for you; I would die for you, kill for you, burn this city to the ground for you. But I won't stop loving you, and I won't leave you again."

"That isn't healthy. We can get you into therapy, we can get you help," he announced tactlessly, before abruptly leaving the room.

He healed, slowly and painfully, in his old room. Bruce never returned after bringing him here. Alfred checked on him every 30 minutes. Jason thought it would be awkward, had thought the butler would hate him for what he had done, for how he felt. But the moment the older gentleman had set eyes on him, wounded in his childhood room, tears in his eyes, the other had swooped him into a bone crushing hug that made it all fade away; at least for the moment. Pennyworth kept him updated on the outside world, all while taking care of him and kicking his ass in cards. Apparently the Bat had sent Dick back to Bludhaven and had benched the replacement Robin for the time being. However, the man himself had thrown himself into his work, both as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and as the vigilante.

It was difficult, being so close to Bruce but not being able to see him, to talk to him, to feel him. His fantasies were running out of control, the things he wanted to do with the other. He wanted to take him out on dates and show the world who Bruce belonged to. He wanted to take care of the man, make him dinner and bandage his wounds. He wanted to kiss him and pin him to the wall, wanted to take him apart until all he knew was Jason, wanted to burying himself inside the other until they could never be separated.

Once he was completely healed, he couldn't help himself any longer. If Alfred knew the thoughts that ran through his mind, the butler never tried to dissuade him.

All he had to do was wait for the Bat to return to his room for the night, exhausted and sore. Bruce noticed him immediately upon entering his chambers, not that Jason was trying to hide, but he didn't seem surprised. Clearly, he had known Jay was finished recovering and that he would corner him at some point.

The sight of Bruce was like a balm to his soul, soothing all his negative thoughts and feelings for the last few weeks. But it also lit a spark of green inside of him, to see the other like this, vulnerable in his Batsuit underclothes, in his own room. There was a wariness in those beloved blue eyes, an alertness as he watched every move he made. It made some part of his brain purr in glee, the predator inside of him sensing weakness. When he began to approach, the vigilante was careful to not back away, though he clearly was fighting his instincts to fight or to run away.

"What are you doing here, Jay?" the Bat asked when he was only inches away, breaking the tense silence first. It felt like a win.

"You've been avoiding me," the younger male deadpanned, rolling his eyes, "Didn't leave me much of a choice, now, did you?"

"Why don't we save this conversation for the morning?" he offered, sighing nonchalantly as if he wasn't in Batman mode, ready to swing at the slightest hint of aggression, looking around the room for all possible exit strategies and weapons.

"I don't think so, Bruce. What more is there to talk about?" Jason purred, moving to circle the man, forcing him to step further into the room and further from the door.

"You aren't thinking clearly, Jay. I can help you, if you let me."

"I don't need fixed, this isn't a disease. You may not love me now, but you will one day." And that was a promise.

"Of course I care about you," he protested, like that was the issue at hand. And Jason knew the Dark Knight cared for him; the other had proved it time and time again.

"Not the way I want you to. For now then, I'll just have to love you enough for the both of us." Before the other could react, he was tackling the man from the side, landing them harshly on the four poster bed. Hands came up to fend him off, but he used the opportunity to lock said hands in cuffs, pinning them down on the bed as he moved to properly straddle the Wayne heir. All he could see was green, but Bruce looked beautiful in this shade; not that he wasn't already stunning. Having the man under him, trying to buck him off to no avail was empowering, even though he knew the Bat refused to actually hurt him and could probably escape if he was killing to injure Jason.

"Jay, stop." It was in the Batman voice, an order, but the Red Hood hadn't been Robin in a long time.

"I don't think so, Bruce," he cooed playfully, grinding down with a wicked smirk, "I've waited for this for so long, since the first time I saw you without the cowl. I'm not waiting anymore, I'm not letting anyone else have you." If anyone tried to have Bruce after this, he'd simply put a bullet in their brain. Once he started touching he couldn't stop, lost in the feeling of warm skin under his hand as he rode up the skin tight shirt up as far as he could one handed.

"Let me go," Brucie Wayne pleaded, perfectly whiny and suggestive, but Jason knew better. He didn't want Batman, he didn't want Brucie the playboy; he wanted just Bruce. And he would have him at this rate.

"You can't make me, and I don't want to." He kept going in for kisses, but the man underneath of him always moved at just the last moment to prevent actual lip to lip contact. Instead, Jason began to bite gently at whatever skin he landed on, whether neck or cheek or the sensitive skin over his collarbones. And the man tasted incredible, like his cologne and sweat from patrol.

"This isn't right-" The denial, even when they were this far along, caused the aggressor to snap, abruptly slapping the other. Bruce gasped under him, eyes dilating, and the Red Hood smiled in glee as he managed to finish tying the chain between the handcuffs to one of the bed posts, sturdy enough that not even the Bat could get free without one of his tools. It was incredible, being able to touch with two hands now, to be able to fully slide the shirt off, using the garment to silence the man.

"As much as I love your voice, I need you to be quiet right now if you can't say the words I need to hear. Now why don't you just relax and let me take care of you?" With that, he slid off the man, crawling over to the bedside table to retrieve the lube. The man was just laying there, waiting for him patiently with clouded eyes, though he was probably still stunned by the rough treatment. Jason used this opportunity to smoothly pull off those pants and underwear, leaving Bruce bare to his hungry gaze. Unfortunately, it caused the man to begin to panic, yanking wildly at his bindings.

Jason quickly hopped back on top of Bruce, gently running his hands through the other's hair, trying to calm him.

"Stop struggling, I don't want you to get hurt. Don't you love me, don't you want me to be happy? Nothing could make me happier than this, being with you." His assurances didn't relax his beloved, but the man stopped struggling all the same, probably trying to rationalize the situation or plan his escape. But the former Robin was pretty confident that the other, already tired and sore from pushing himself so severely the last few weeks as both a businessman and vigilante, didn't have the strength to break free.

"There we go. I knew you could be good for me, I've always known."

As much as he wanted to appreciate the view a little longer, Jason was impatient as always. He started on the older man's chest, leaving bites and soft kisses intermittently, tracing sensitive scars and avoiding newer wounds. The entire point of this was to learn the other's body, his reactions, and bringing him unnecessary pain wasn't a part of that plan. Rough enough to cause temporary aches, and gentle enough to bring pleasure was his goal. And from the muffled sounds that escaped the makeshift gag, the small twitches that gave the man away, he was succeeding.

Sliding further down the toned body below him, the Red Hood gave soft licks to the half hard cock that he'd dreamed of for so long, swallowing it down without warning just to watch how Bruce arched off the bed involuntarily. Ever since coming back, he'd lost any semblance of a gag reflex. All that training, alone at night in his room, had been for nothing. It had been embarrassing, how he'd worked so hard to learn how to give a blowjob without choking, but it was coming in handy all the same now as the other became fully hard under his ministrations. And when he laid on the bed completely, Bruce's dick like velvet in his mouth, throwing those muscular legs over his shoulders, lubing up the fingers on one hand, the other was too distracted to notice. It allowed him to plunge a finger all the way into the relaxed hole without warning, causing the other to utter a muffled yelp.

Jason was more gentle with the remaining fingers, taking his time. It was quite a sight, he could tell from the various mirrors positioned around the room, even behind the bed. Bruce taking him like he was made for it, the blissed out look on the other's face, how Jason himself looked, mouth filled with the man's cock. It was perfect, how they both filled each other, over and over again.

"Oh Bruce, you're so beautiful for me, so perfect. It was always meant to be you, to be me, to be us." His voice was rough when he pulled away, and although he could've done this all night, pleasuring his beloved, he was greedy. When he pulled himself back up, he noticed tears spilling from eyes clenched shut, like the other was still trying to keep him out.

"Don't cry, I know these feelings are scary, they can be so overwhelming. But you're safe here, with me. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, other than me of course, and only when you want me to," he soothed, carefully wiping those tears away. And miraculously, the man relaxed under him, or at the very least gave up, gave in. And Jason couldn't help but lick his fingers afterwards, grinding down at the taste of salt and Bruce that met him. It was even better than when he had been sucking the other off, and he vowed to eat the Bat out at his earliest convenience. But for now, he used those same fingers to lube himself up generously, not even bothering to fully pull off his sweatpants.

When he suddenly picked Bruce's legs up, locking them around his waist as he lifted the man's lower body entirely off the bed, those tearstained eyes finally opened. And those blue orbs were locked on him as he pushed into the other, as green swallowed them both until he was fully incased in that tight heat.

"Do you see now, how I feel about you? How much I love you?" Jason asked as he began to move, grinding into the Bat before starting a slow and steady rhythm, "This isn't wrong, Bruce, see? I've never felt this way about anyone else, and I never will. My heart has always been yours. And I'm not the boy that you lost, the sidekick that you mourned. I'm a man, someone who can be with you, who can love you the way you deserve." He had never felt more connected to another human before in his life, but it was like everything was falling into place now.

Bruce was so perfect under him, eyes still trained on his own, watching him as he watched the other. It was like a feedback loop, intensifying everything. He felt amazing, and a lot of that came from making the vigilante a puddle of goo under him, hands limp in the handcuffs that he was fighting earlier. There was a heat building under his skin, in his stomach, in his balls, but he strived to make it last longer. He wanted, needed, to be the best that Bruce had ever taken, needed to make sure that he was good enough for the man to not desire anyone else ever again. And under his gag, the Bat was moaning now, not even trying to quiet his pleasure. It was so intoxicating that he tore the shirt right off of his mouth, ripping the fabric like it was nothing more than paper so he could hear everything; every groan and gasp and whine. And Jason couldn't help speeding up until he couldn't move any faster, hands forcing the other's hips to meet his thrusts with bruising force.

"Come for me, with me, Bruce," he ordered, begged, pleaded, "I want us to finish together." This was important to him, that they finish as one, that he come untouched. And his beloved was tightening around him so perfectly, so intensely, until nothing else mattered.

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce-" He chanted, the only thing that he could say the other's name, as everything went white. Jason was lost, floating away for miles. But he came back to himself, to Bruce, after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. The man was still underneath of him, painted in purpling lovebites, evidence of his possessive nature, and his own release. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering both of them, and he waited eagerly, still connected so intimately to the Bat, for the other to come back to awareness. He was proud of himself for fucking the other so thoroughly that he had completely lost himself, an accomplishment that he was viciously sure no other had achieved.

His heart skipped a beat, surely, when blue eyes began to flutter open, finding him immediately.

"Jay-" Bruce croaked, voice beyond ruined, body pushed beyond his limits. Jason crooned lovingly, gently pulling out, watching in satisfaction as his cum leaked in rivets from the other. If it bothered him, the older of the two didn't show or vocalize it, focused on staying awake as he was.

"Shh, it's okay. You were so good for me, I hope that I was good for you too. Let me get you some water and clean us up, then we can go to bed, okay?" He stayed true to his words, wiping the other down carefully with a warm wash rag that was softer than it had any right to be, soaking up blood, sweat, and cum until the glowing white was no more. Jason untied him as he went, soothing massaging his wrists where the blood flow had been restricted. When he offered water, he had to lift the Bat up slightly as to not choke the man. It was easier than it should have been, to manhandle the other, but it seemed that the Pit had some advantages after all. And through it all, blurry blue eyes stayed trained on his figure.

"I really wore you out, huh?" Jason teased, crawling back onto the bed to lay next to the other, observing him closely for any micro expressions, "Maybe this will help you sleep. And I'll be right here when you wake up. You'll never be alone again, we'll never be apart again." It was a promise and a threat all wrapped into one, darkly possessive and obsessive, but Bruce simply nodded weakly.

"I promise, Jay, you'll never be alone," the other said, whisper quiet, shaky hand coming to hold his own. It was the first time the other had voluntary touched him the entire evening, and Jason was lovesick with the gesture.

"Oh Bruce," he sighed contently, squeezing the hand in return, scooting closer until he was cuddled into the other's side. Using his feet, he deftly kicked the covers up from where they were tangled at the bottom of the mattress. The Red Hood didn't care if Alfred found them in the morning, if anything it would be convenient as to explain why Bruce wouldn't be leaving this room, or even this bed probably with how thoroughly he had fucked the other, for the rest of the week.

There were very few absolutes in this crazy world of theirs, but he had no doubts that this was true in any time, in any universe, in any fate. Bruce, not Batman, not Brucie Wayne, was the center of everything. Every miracle, every death, every time his heart skipped a beat, every time there was blood on his hands; it was all because of Bruce, it was all for Bruce. Jason Todd revolved, orbited, around Bruce, had built his life, his beliefs, his identity, around the older man.