A Midsummer's Night Terror, Ch. 3

[kleine_aster]

Title: A Midsummer's Night Terror
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (who is 18 for the purpose of this fic).
Summary: A super-villain is on the loose, and he isn't called "The Kinkster" for nothing. On a hot Gotham summer's night, he entraps Batman and his allies, presenting them with a choice - to either succumb to lust, or perish in his maze. Bat Badwrong ensues.
Genre: Humor, Slash, Smut
Warnings: It's … dubcon comedy. So naturally, it's not for everyone. I apologize for the wrongness.
Words: 4,401 (Oh, god.)
Universe: Comicverse. Could be pre-New 52 or after, it doesn't matter. Oh, and despite The Kinkster's appearance, it's not connected to my fic "He Would Never", in which Bruce and Dick already had a relationship, because I'm not THAT twisted.
Notes: This chapter was exhausting (and fun!) to write. Bruce is a strange man.


"We'll use our hands," Bruce spat at him as he slammed the door shut behind them. "We'll use our hands, we'll be quick about it, and that's all that's going to happen!"

Then he proceeded to stand in the middle of the room, delivering his best withering stare to where he thought the camera was. It was the perfect blend of rage, defiance, and despair; it was hot as fuck.

Jason was left leaning in the doorframe, watching him. His pulse was racing. And not only because they'd kinda rushed here.

Batman … Bruce had lead him into the room called The Temple, probably because it was the closest, and also the most dimly lit. The red, sandy walls were lined with torches, and there was incense in the air, probably laced heavily with The Kinkster's horny gas. It looked like a porny version of some sort of ritual chamber. There was an altar at the center, but that altar was also a bed. And it was still one of the less tacky rooms they'd come across, at least if you chose to ignore that massive, super-explicit mural of three nymphs doing it with a satyr.

Jason thought it was weirdly fitting. There was something unholy, something blasphemous in what they were about to do, in a way that made his mouth water and his nipples so hard they were chafing against the inside of his shirt. But it was entirely possible that Bruce wasn't even aware of that, or plain didn't care.

"You won't get away with this, Kinkster," the Dark Knight now announced to the empty room. His deep, gruff voice was shaking. "I'll make you regret this, can you hear me?!"

Behind him, Jason huffed and looked at his boots. Figured. It was only the two of them and a camera, and Bruce chose to talk to the camera. It seemed impossible for Jason to get his attention, even if his life depended on fucking him, or as he called it, using his hands on him; an image that sent a soft, sweet, queasy shiver down his spine.

He had a nervous knot in his stomach. If Bruce was gonna be like this, how was he supposed to get him turned on? How was he supposed to get him off? His fear of failure ran deep, and he really really didn't want to add "shitty sex" to the long list of things that went wrong between him and Batman. He had to make Bruce direct all that anger towards him, which meant he had to get his attention first. And the only way he knew how anymore was by yanking his chain.

It wasn't easy, because his heart was pounding all the way up in his throat, and it was difficult to get the words out. He took out his lighter and toyed with it. "I know why you did it," he said slyly.

The Bat still wouldn't look at him. But he at least tilted his head in his direction, irritated. "What," he barked.

Jason grinned wryly. "I know why you chose me and not the pretend - the little one." In his mind, Tim Drake was still "the little one", even though Asshole Kid was in the picture now.

"It's because…because he's the innocent." It hurt like a bitch to say it. It was like a scab that wouldn't heal because he couldn't leave it alone. "He admires you. He looks up to you. If you used him for this, it might ruin all of that. You could lose him. But me…" His lips curled up into a bitter smile. "There's nothing left to ruin. You've already lost me. So. No damage done, right."

He realized that it was a masochistic thing to say; but he couldn't stop, he could never stop parading his cross around in front of Batman, ever. It was like a compulsion. A sickness.

Or maybe, deep down inside, he desperately hoped that he was wrong, hoped to hear Bruce say that he'd chosen him because he'd wanted him more.

Of course, Bruce shot all of that down when he coldly pointed out: "You weren't my first choice."

It hurt. It was humiliating. But Jason snorted, and pretended to take it in stride. "I never am," he pushed out between gritted teeth.

He wanted to hurt and humiliate him back. When it came to Bruce, that thirst was never quenched. "Well, Dark Knight, if you really wanted a piece of him, you should've gotten in there while you had the chance," he teased, snapping his lighter shut with a metallic 'click' and stowing it away. "Because as you've probably figured out by now, everyone does." He said it as sleazily as possible; if he could taunt Bruce with the image of Dick getting nailed by a bunch of dudes that weren't him, great. "Tell me, though, how's it feel to have to get in line behind your own s - "

He knew it was a fucking stupid thing to say the second it left his mouth, but not as fast as Batman did. Before he knew it, Bruce had slammed him into the wall, scowling, furious, dark blue eyes burning into his. His big, gloved hand was brutally covering his mouth. Beneath him, Jason shuddered and squirmed; but it wasn't out of the terror that Bruce had probably meant to inspire.

"We're being taped, you idiot," Batman growled, 'idiot' being the most personal thing he'd said to Jason in years. His hot breath was grazing Jason's face. "This is what's wrong with you. You don't think. You never do. If you don't stop shooting your mouth off right now, I'll - "

He never finished that threat. He froze. His eyes went wide with surprise, which looked oddly charming behind the cowl. "Wait, that's not a gun down there. Are you … are you erect right now?"

Jason let out a soft groan in response.

He followed Bruce's eyes as he slowly looked down at the bulge in his pants. There was a note of shocked disbelief in the way he stared at it. It was shameful, and it was embarrassing, and somehow, it served to make him even harder. His dick was throbbing under his former mentor's gaze. He wondered, irrationally, if Bruce was maybe impressed, if he liked the size of it, liked the shape of it. He wanted him to. He wanted him to be impressed because that's what he always wanted.

Bruce wouldn't let him speak, but Jason wouldn't have known how to tell him, anyway. How to tell him that he'd always dreamed about it. The truth was, he'd wanted to open his legs for him long before he'd even known how that'd really work, or what it meant. It'd been a boyish idol crush that had, later, blossomed into a full-blown obsession. He couldn't count the nights he'd laid in his bed in the Mansion, drenched in sweat, and made himself come imagining himself on his knees, with Bruce's semen dripping from his chin. The many times he'd beaten off furiously to the idea of Batman catching him doing it, and somehow … punishing him with his long, hard cock, whispering harsh little things to him like he did, directing his body, using him in any way Jason could imagine, and a few that he couldn't. He didn't dare count the times he still dreamed about that, today. But even now, with his dick pulsing against Bruce's thigh, it seemed like an impossible thing to say.

But maybe he didn't have to say it. Maybe Bruce could tell from the way Jason was shaking under his hands.

Somehow, he managed to pry the gloved fingers away from his mouth. "Don't be so surprised," he muttered, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck. "You knew this would happen. You knew it when you brought me here."

Bruce grew tense, but he didn't back away; his body seemed very, very warm despite the suit. There was something alluring about the obvious conflict on his face. "I - " He sounded husky. "I don't think I can - "

He had a sweet, sweaty, tantalizing scent. Jason could tell that he had cologne'd up for some kind of event earlier in the night, and then washed it off before he'd stepped into the suit. That's what he smelled like now, traces of exquisiteness and underneath that, something earthier. That was him.

He leaned over to whisper to him. It was a shot in the dark, but he wagered it was a good one. "Maybe I'll let you spank me."

Bruce let out a gasp. His whole body stirred. And then, he looked at Jason scandalized and ashamed at the same time, and he knew that he'd been right. When he let his hand slide down between the other man's legs, he could feel something come alive under his fingers. A deliciously suppressed moan came from Bruce's lips. His hips involuntarily rolled up to meet him.

Jason shot him a triumphant smile, working his fingers up and down his length. Bruce was so deeply obsessed with discipline that Jason had always suspected he was kind of into it, sexually. He also was fairly sure that he never let it show, ever, because Gotham was a gossip-hungry city, and he couldn't afford any rumors that billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was weird in bed.

"D'you ever allow yourself to do that, huh?" He asked, squeezing him through the fabric of his suit. "D'you let people see that side of you? Because you can show it to me. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it, I'd do anything." His lips quivered. Further down, his loins were quivering, too. "You can … you can even pretend I'm him, if that's what you want, I don't even care - "

The words got stuck in his throat when suddenly, Bruce did something that Jason hadn't expected.

He took off his right glove and cupped Jason's face in his hand. The touch was so light, so gentle that it almost freaked him out. Bruce hadn't touched him like that since he'd been a boy, and even then only rarely. It was so comforting that he could've cried. And for the first time since they'd come to this wretched place, Bruce looked at him as if he was really seeing him. Not a nuisance, not extra baggage, not an enemy. Just him. Just Jason.

His fingers were caressing him. His hand was warm. Jason couldn't help burying his face in it with a longing moan. It felt so good.

"You're sick," Batman told him.

Jason tensed at that harsh indictment. But Bruce's voice was soft, almost tender; caring. "That's not you talking. It's that poison running through your veins. But I'll help you. We'll fix it. We'll get it out of you. I promise."

For a moment, he wasn't sure why Bruce would say that. But one look in his eyes made Jason realize how much this tortured him. The idea of doing this with any of them. It was spelled out in every tense, humming muscle that he was aching for it, yet the only way he could live with himself was to see it like this, like he was still protecting them, like he was helping.

Jason instinctively knew that Bruce had made the right decision. He wasn't sure if Tim Drake would've been able to bear this.

But if that was what it took, if he needed this little lie to get himself there, Jason was ready to play along. There were very few things that he wasn't ready to do at this point.

"Yeah …" He assured Bruce, pressing his hips into him for emphasis. He didn't have to fake sounding needy, or shaking like he had a fever. "Yeah, I'm sick. You need to help me. Help me please."

He was half-tempted to ask if Batman was willing to suck the poison out of him; the thought alone made his dick twitch. But he didn't dare to. He didn't want to ruin it. It almost scared him how starved he was for this, how much he loved Bruce acting like he cared. It was addictive.

Bruce made an approving noise in his throat. It was what he'd needed to hear. He let his thumb trail across Jason's lips, and there was a sharp intake of breath when the younger man let it slide into the softness his mouth.

"Hood," he blurted out, almost like he couldn't control it. Almost. There was still a kernel of control left, Jason could tell.

He stopped sucking on Bruce's fingers long enough to beg, "Call me Jason, please, I don't care if he knows, I want it."

The older man gave him a stern look. His touch grew a little harsher. "You can't use my name," he reminded him sharply, "You can never use it, through any of this, do you understand?" He paused, licking his lips. "Jason?"

"Yes, Sir." Jason presented him with a wet, obedient smile. "I won't. I swear."

Bruce nodded at that, satisfied. Then, he nearly made Jason yelp as he grabbed his ass with both hands, lifted him off his feet, and slammed him into the wall again, kissing him violently.

Bruce Wayne was a great kisser. Of course he was. He had to be. Being a panty-dropper was part of his persona. When he kissed someone, he had to make them feel like he had nothing to hide, like they were the most important thing in the world to him. Kissing him had to make people feel special, and sexy, and wanted, because he had to make sure that he could send them home content, unlikely to ask weird questions.

Jason knew all of that, but it still worked. It shut off what was left of his brain, made his pulse go into overdrive, sent little shock waves right into his tormented balls. He heard himself produce angry, hungry noises. His knees were mush. He was a tall guy; there were only a few men who could have held him like this, but Batman fortunately was one of them.

Even better, after a while, he could feel him losing it, too. The kissing became more urgent, more aggressive, more real, and he was thrusting his hips into him as if he could somehow bang him through the suit, and Jason suddenly fully realized that Bruce was a man underneath all that, a horny-as-fuck, desperate man who needed to get off as badly as he did.

"Fuck me," he suggested breathlessly, nuzzling his face against the bat symbol on the other man's broad chest. The thought scared him as much as it excited him, but he felt bold enough to do it. "C'mon, I know you want to, I can feel it - "

Bruce set him down.

"N-no."

His voice was shaky, but his hand was firm when he guided it between Jason's legs, kneading his thighs a little, gently, lovingly, before he went for the buckle of his belt.

Jason remained perfectly still. This felt so unreal that he half believed it'd all suddenly go away if he so much as breathed; apart from that, one false movement would've caused him to shoot his load all over Bruce's hands; and he wanted that, but also he didn't want that. Not yet.

Bruce seemed to sense how tense he was. "It's okay," he whispered, and Jason was reminded that his voice, gruff as it was, could also be warm. "I'll take care of you."

Jason groaned helplessly at that, and then Bruce's hand was on his throbbing, aching dick. It already was all sticky down there; it felt like he'd sported this boner for hours. Maybe he had. He almost wanted to apologize for getting Batman's hand this dirty, but all that came out of him was a half-choked "-h god - "

"Good," Bruce sounded approving, and only a little crazy with lust as he ran his thumb across the wet, sensitive tip of his cock. "This is good. It'll be over fast. You'll see."

Jason whimpered. His entire body convulsed when the older man wrapped his hand around his shaft, and started working him with skilled, experienced hands.

"Slower," he pleaded after a while, "D-do it slower." He didn't want it to end, but there was no way he'd last any longer like this; and there was no way he could tell Bruce he wanted to. "You're hurting me," he lied.

He let out a small whine when Bruce let go of him. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere. "Wait here."

"Wha - "

He did as he was told, and watched in a daze as Bruce walked away and roamed through some of the little bottles and flasks that had been arranged around the altar-bed. He returned with a flask of something fragrant and slippery, and he put some of it on his fingers before he went back to his task.

"…better?"

"I - ngh - " Jason bit his lip, hard. It had felt good from the start, but now it became straight-up torturous. This was insane. For hours, he'd been desperate to come, and now, he was absolutely determined to hold back for as long as possible. And from the way Bruce kept stroking him harder and harder, he could tell that he was on to him. It was weird that, after all, it had to turn into this antagonistic thing between them.

He was staring right into Jason's eyes while he jerked him off, which would have been super-awkward with anybody else. With Bruce, it was bizarrely mesmerizing. And Bruce knew that.

"Did you really want me to?" He growled. "Fuck you?"

He knew exactly how that sounded, coming from him. It was calculated, but he was watching Jason writhe and gasp with twisted fascination.

"I - y-yeah…"

Bruce leaned into him, touching his ear with his lips. "It was you, wasn't it. All those years ago, those things disappearing from my laundry. Used things. That was you."

Jason didn't even know how he managed to blush; all his blood seemed to be centered in his groin, boiling. "N-no - "

"You lie." Bruce squeezed him so hard it brought tears to his eyes. "I can tell when you lie, Jason."

"Yes …" It had been him. Of course it had been him. "Sorry … I'm … I'm sorry…"

He wasn't sorry. He was totally not sorry about that. It had been worth it, it had been worth every drop of cum he'd lost in those stolen, dirty little treasures. But he words tasted so so good.

Bruce growled at him and pressed a hard, brutal kiss on his mouth, never interrupting the movement of his hands. "Don't be sorry," he said, a cruel edge in his voice, every word accompanied by a stroke. "It's who you are. A thief. A lowly, filthy little thief."

"Ah!"

That did it. That did him in.

His jutting hips flew forward one last time, his legs gave out, and then he collapsed into a pile of raw, twitching nerves as he came. And Bruce betrayed his words when he held him, closely, patiently, until the tremors subsided.

It had only been a handjob. But it came from Batman, and all in all, it had been one epic handjob.

It was kind of a tender thing for a moment, them being in each other's arms. When Jason eventually dropped down on his knees in front of Bruce, it was part necessity, and part purpose.

Bruce looked at him with suspicion. "What do you think you're doing?" He inquired when Jason started to nestle at his belt.

"Your turn now," Jason told him, panting. He didn't feel quite ready for more complex sentences again. Bruce winced, displeased. He obviously still dreaded this part.

Jason looked up to him, kneeling as if he meant to pray. "My mouth," he rasped. "Use my mouth. Please. Please?"

Bruce pressed his lips firmly together. He was struggling. However, the rock-hard bulge between his legs didn't exactly get any smaller.
Eventually, he simply said: "… that's not how you open it. Here. Let me show you."

He wasn't sure afterwards, but Jason could've sworn he'd stared dreamily at Bruce's exposed cock - which was every inch as glorious and perfect as he'd imagined it to be - for nearly a minute until the man above him awkwardly cleared his throat.

"So - " Bruce said, and then his words died in a prolonged, shuddering hiss when Jason ran his tongue across his entire length, finished it off with a kiss (he'd always wanted to kiss him there), and let him slide into his mouth.

He even tasted good. Or maybe Jason was just crazy.

It wasn't easy to take all of him in; but after a few attempts, after a few bobs of his head and a few choked noises, he managed. A steady, content hum was coming from his lips as he worked his way up and down; and Bruce's hands were there, one caressing his neck, and the other running through his slick, damp black hair. Nudging him forward, encouraging him. The first thrusts came hesitant, cautious, as if he was afraid to break something, but they slowly grew stronger, harder, faster, and in a matter of minutes, he was pulling at Jason's hair and slamming his cock down his throat with desperate force. He had the pleasure to hear Bruce stammer his name, again, and again, in an increasingly choked voice -

Until he, at some point, suddenly said it very calmly. "Jason."

He let him slip out of his mouth to look up again; he really hated parting with his dick. His eyes were glazed over, his lips were swollen and raw. He felt like he'd been shaken out of a fever dream. "Yeah?"

Bruce looked equally dazed as he looked down at him. His voice was patient when he kindly explained, "I can't … finish like this. I'm not a teenager. It's actually very difficult to reach orgasm through oral stimulation."

"…oh. Um." Jason returned his gaze, still eager to please him, not sure what to do. Bruce wouldn't fuck him, and this wasn't working, so … "What … what d'you want me to do?"

An obscene, delirious look flashed across Bruce's face.

He looked the slightest bit unhinged, but not unkind, when he grabbed a fistful of Jason's hair again and yanked his head back. "You're perfect," he informed him, wrapping his other hand around his own hard-on. "Stay right where you are. And open your mouth."
With his skilled hands, and the stimulation he'd received, it didn't take him long to reach his peak; and when he did, with a raspy, tortured moan, Jason swallowed everything that got into his mouth.

He hadn't even planned on doing it. But he did. He swallowed all of it.

The next thing he registered was a handkerchief being handed to him. "Here." Bruce's voice sounded more even again. And mildly embarrassed.

A second later, something else was dropped into his other hand. "Here."

Jason looked at it, and burst out laughing. It was breath mint with a tiny bat on it. "Oh man," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "Never seen those before. Are they new?"

"Not my idea," Bruce grumbled at him. "Alfred's. In case I have to switch characters on short notice."

Or in case you'd just gotten someone else's load blown all the way down your throat, obviously. Jason popped it in his mouth. "Oh. 's good!"

Bruce's shadow fell over him. He realized that while he'd still been drooling on the floor, the older man had properly suited up again. He was offering him his gloved hand. "Get up. Please."

He could've gotten to his feet without help, but he took his hand, anyway. It was nice.

Bruce turned away from him as he awkwardly dusted himself off. He was back to his brooding, earnest self. But then, he quietly said, "Thank you. For making it …" He paused, and seemed to search for the right word. "You made it … easier."

Jason shrugged, unwilling to let on how flattered he was. "Eh, that's me," he said sheepishly. "So, y'know, next time some weirdo creeper locks you up in his sex dungeon, you know who to call."

Bruce didn't laugh. He still avoided looking at him, but this time, it seemed to be normal, after-sex flusteredness, not the symptom of something darker. Jason watched with amusement as he flexed his strained right hand a little bit. "Those things I said to you," he muttered, almost coyly. "About you being … lowly. Filthy. I want you to know I didn't mean them. I never thought that about you. I still don't." He cast a fleeting glance in his direction. "I only said those because you seemed to like it."

Jason gave him a teasing grin, rolling the candy around in his mouth. "Sure. Because I liked it."

Bruce's lips twitched, but he refrained from commenting on that. Instead, he turned to Jason and full-on looked at him, after all. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "You're good," he said.

Jason felt a blush creep into his cheeks. "Like. In bed?"

Bruce gave him a consternated look, but it was a mild one. "A good man," he corrected him. "You're a good man, Jason." And then, not even he could fully suppress a small grin. "And that other thing. Yes. That, too."

Those words made Jason's chest swell with pride; he couldn't help it. "You're welcome." He kinda wanted to ask Bruce to kiss again, but it seemed like the window for kissing had closed; for now, at least. He was oddly okay with that. Perhaps Batman had been right. Perhaps Jason had been sick, perhaps he did need to get some of that poison out. Only the poison had nothing to do with The Kinkster's concoctions.

Still. He still wanted something. A reminder. A token. A trophy, maybe.

"Hey," he bit his lip. "Before we leave, can I have another one of those mints? I really like 'em."

Bruce gave him a wry smile as he reached into his pocket and took out a handful of candies. "You can have all of them," he told him. "You've earned it."