I Ate Your Yoghurt
Title: I Ate Your Yoghurt
Pairing: Damian Wayne/Jason Todd
Summary: Jason comes home from a long, exhausting mission to find a sexually starved Damian on his couch. Verbal abuse and sex-related negotiations ensue.
Genre: Slash, humor.
Warnings: Banter, barebacking.
Words: 2,796
Universe: Comicverse.
Notes: Damian is in his late teens. Also, this turned out way more domestic than I thought it would … well, as domestic as these two get, anyway.
"Okay, let me get this straight," Jason grumbled, dropping his duffle bag full of guns to the floor. "We're not fucking tonight."
The mischievous smirk on Damian Wayne's face was immediately replaced by a cold glare. He crossed his arms. "You can't be serious," he declared, as if his sheer insistence could make it so.
"I'm dead serious." Jason tossed off his helmet, rubbed his tired eyes, and finally, finally scratched his itchy nose. Ah. That felt good. "You have no idea what I've been through just now."
"I don't," Damian admitted, in a voice that implied 'And I don't care'. "All I know is that you've been gone for two weeks." He sounded almost upset. Not so much because he'd been worried, clearly, but because his youthful, insatiable cock had gone unattended for that long. He looked really appetizing, too, lounging on Jason's couch like an entitled cat, dressed all in black, with that arrogant little face that was so much fun to defile, and a predatory gleam in his eyes.
Jason took a long, hard look at all that, and let out a rueful sigh.
He'd always known this day would come. The day Damian Wayne would learn that, only because Jason sported a kickass red helmet, wielded two guns at the same time, and could take more abuse than a person reasonably should, he still wasn't the human equivalent of a mechanical bull that could be ridden at all times.
"Look," he tried to reason, even though he knew that the results with Damian were spotty at best, "I'm not gonna go into detail, but the reason I didn't call was because we were in space. Like, on another planet. In some kind of alien determent camp, which we eventually escaped through a dumpster, which landed us in - I'm not really firm with the lingo here but I think it's called an 'inter-dimensional vortex', which zapped us back to earth, where we resumed battling a bunch of scaly extraterrestrial overlords on a bridge. That was on fire. So, I'm really tired, I'm really sore, and I'm not banging anybody tonight, not even you."
Damian waited for Jason to finish, looking unimpressed. Then, he stubbornly repeated: "You were gone for two weeks."
Oh, hell.
"Yeah, well." Jason snapped. "I would've hit you up for some phone sex, but I had no service on Neptune."
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Why did I even come here," he complained.
Jason snorted. Affectionate as ever. It made sense, though. He only ever showed up to utilize Jason's body for his pleasure, and Jason let him, because on top of everything else, Damian was also preternaturally gifted at aggressive fucking.
But tonight, all he could muster was a tired shrug. "Fuck if I know, kid, since I sure as hell didn't ask you to come," he said dryly. "In fact, I've recently re-inforced both the door and the windows, so. Not sure how this even happened."
Damian looked very pleased with himself. "You forgot the air vents, like an amateur. Thanks for that."
Jason barked out a laugh. No matter how tired he was, the idea of Batman's boy shimmying through his air vent, driven by the burning desire to bone him, was beautiful. And the image of Damian flat on his stomach, crawling through anything was kind of arousing. Or would have been, if Jason's hottest fantasy right now hadn't been a shower, a meal, perhaps a good cry, and then bed.
He chuckled. "Didn't you get really dirty in there?"
"I did." On the couch, Damian stirred lightly. "I took a shower," he said suggestively. He sure had. His hair was still wet, black and sleek against his smooth, dark skin. Jason would have bet anything that he smelled terrific right now.
He yawned. "Good for you." Then, he left Damian pouting sultrily on the couch, lumbered - because lumbering was all he was capable of at this point - towards his fridge, and opened it.
And frowned. "Did you take the yoghurt that was in here?"
Damian had whipped out his phone and was twiddling around with it. "You weren't showing and I got hungry." He looked up with large innocent eyes. "I only took one," he chirped.
Jason slammed the door shut. "There was only one, you little prick!"
Damian's lips were twitching. "I suppose."
Jason roared, tore open a drawer, grabbed a kitchen knife and threw it in his direction. Damian dodged it like a pro, without even stopping to check his inbox. The knife got stuck in the wall next to his face, still trembling. Jason had expected nothing less from him, or else he wouldn't have done it. Damian was one of the few people in the world - perhaps the only one - who got this, who understood this kind of exchange.
Without looking, the boy plugged out the knife, and threw it back at him with deadly precision.
"It's only yoghurt," he said.
"It was all I had!" Jason caught the knife out of the air, handle first. Then, he tidily put it back into the drawer where it belonged, and closed it noisily. "Not all of us have butlers that magically make food appear whenever we want it!" He checked a cereal box, only to find that it had an ad for a movie on it that had been in theatres last Christmas, and discarded the idea. "D'you know how much nutrition they have on Neptune for like, humans? None." He leaned against the counter for support, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Actually, it wasn't even Neptune. I forgot the name of the place. It was something like … god, I'm so tired."
"It's okay that you're tired," Damian said softly.
"For real?"
Despite himself, Jason perked up at that. It was … an unexpectedly sweet thing to say, especially since this was Damian saying it. To tell the truth, even though he didn't see himself fucking anyone tonight, he didn't mind not being alone. Having someone to talk this shit through with, or maybe not talk at all. Someone to keep him company, someone who'd sit on his bed and zap through the channels while he slowly drifted off to sleep, that'd be nice. He so rarely had that.
"Thanks, man," he said genuinely, "I apprecia -"
He looked up just in time to see Damian eyeing him hungrily.
"Because, you know," the boy purred, "All I really require from you is to lie on your back … that was not a good thing to say," he decided, when he saw the look on Jason's face.
Jason glared at him. "Boy, I sure am mad I already threw a knife at you, because this would be the perfect time to throw a knife at you."
Damian's eyes lit up playfully. "Do it again?"
"Nah." Jason waved lazily. "Now you'd see it coming."
The boy stuffed away his phone and came over to him. The movement of his hips was mesmerizing, even to red, sleep-deprived eyes. Jason remembered Damian being sort of tense and awkward when he'd been a kid, but now he had the fluid, light-footed movements of a seasoned assassin. He hopped onto the counter, lean legs dangling. Jason caught himself staring at them. He knew how lovely and strong those legs were; he'd had them wrapped around his head many times. Some of those times even for sex.
He knew it was totally the wrong thing to enforce his "no fucking" resolution, but Jason couldn't resist leaning over and burying his face against the boy's collar bone, savoring the soft shudder it elicited. Damian's skin was warm and fragrant. Jason trembled against him with a deep sigh. After all he'd gone through, there was a simple, raw, sensual pleasure to this. And he could feel Damian responding to it, even though he probably didn't understand it.
The boy licked his lips. "You need a shower," he pointed out redundantly, but his voice was low and husky.
"Consider yourself lucky," Jason muttered, lips ghosting against his skin. "The burn smell is covering up the dumpster smell."
He'd sorta expected a punch for that, but instead, Damian sucked in his breath, and then the pink tip of his tongue became visible again, trailing across his lips. "I don't mind," he suddenly admitted. "I don't really mind if you're filthy."
Jason let out a strangled "Nnh," when he felt his dick twitch at that. The brat. Never really stopped playing games, but there was something very real about his desire that Jason inevitably went nuts for. He ran his finger across Damian's throat, feeling his pulse. It was racing, hammering.
"Really want it bad, huh." He caught himself getting bedroom voice despite his best efforts.
"Tt." Damian sneered and gave him a reprimanding look, which was much hotter than it had any right to be. "It's not about it, Todd," he scolded him. "I could have it. No matter if you're around or not. I'm rich. I'm young. I'm not hideous. People are willing to overlook the fact that I'm abrasive, because I have a helicopter and my own boat. But …"
He let out a heavy sigh and tugged Jason close by his collar. "But I want it with you," he insisted; he didn't even seem aware of how needy he sounded. "It's always good when it's with you."
He was now flat-out rubbing himself against him; Jason wasn't sure when exactly he'd locked him between his thighs, but it had happened. The sweet friction washed it all away, the hunger, the pain, the heaviness in his bones. And Damian grew as hard and tense as a whip when Jason kissed him on the mouth.
"You're exhausting," he told him when he pulled away. Their lips were almost sticking together, wet and swollen. "You go for hours, you go through all these positions, you always want more. And that's great, but I cannot. Pull that off right now, understood?" He let his big, warm hands slide down and slowly unbuttoned the boy's pants, prompting him to rock against him with a small, impatient hiss. Jason groaned. "Is there any chance in hell that I can just give you a handjob, and you'll be okay with it?"
He looked down. Damn. He should not have unpacked that thing. Now he was reminded how exquisite Damian's dick was, and how much he wanted to play with it.
Damian pouted, but the rest of him started to stir when Jason touched him. "I can do that on my own," he protested, "I don't need to come to you for that."
Jason grinned at him. "Eh. You can't do it like it do," he claimed, and he knew he was right when he saw Damian bite down on his lip, hard, as he squeezed him. The boy's eyes became unfocused, and he grabbed the corners of the counter until his knuckles went white.
"I can get you off in ten seconds, you know," Jason said matter-of-factly, pumping away at him.
Damian looked insulted, but his legs opened wide, and his hips were bucking in his direction. "S-so?" he pushed out from between his gritted teeth, "And I'll be erect again in five." He shivered, his head rolled back and his loins rolled forward. He looked gorgeous, blood pulsing deep in his cheeks. Jason wanted to lick him all over. "At least use your mouth," Damian demanded breathlessly, "Don't be so lazy."
Jason shot him a sardonic smile while he worked his hand. "Forget it, toots. I'm not getting on my knees or straining my neck tonight. No dice."
Damian let out a frustrated roar. "You useless goon," he spat, but then he suddenly shot up, threw his arms around his neck and kissed him, over and over, tearing at his lips with his teeth. Jason moaned, and felt his own hard, hot erection strain painfully against his zipper.
Oh, fuck it. He'd never been that firm in his convictions, anyway.
Damian gasped for air when Jason stopped stroking him, and instead used both hands to tear the boy's pants down over his hips.
"Fine," he said, grimly determined. "Let's get this over with."
"Over with?" Damian arched an indignant eyebrow, but he looked eager, anyway.
"Yeah. You win. I'll lie down on the couch, you do your thing." Jason's voice became muffled when he clumsily pulled his shirt off over his head. "'cause that's what's you really want, isn't it?" Before he knew it, Damian's busy fingers were there, helping him undo his pants, which answered his question.
He was almost done limping to the couch when he flinched in pain as Damian touched the fresh, swelling welts on his back.
"Did someone whip you?" The boy asked, sounding way too interested.
Jason crawled onto his couch. "Alien. Determent. Camp," he growled, and a second later Damian confirmed how turned on he was by that when he wrapped his hands around Jason's waist, pressing a hot kiss onto the back of his neck.
"Quit screwing around," Jason whispered to him, "And just screw me."
"Say please?" Damian teased him, pinching his hips.
"Don't push it," Jason mumbled, rolling over on to his back. He shivered when Damian's slender, naked form slid on top of him. "I only ask for two things. Make it quick, and make me come." He paused. "Please."
Despite his impatience, Damian took a moment to take in the sight of him, grinning. "Will do," he promised.
Like always, there was a moment of soaring pain when the boy took him, but he braced it, he was used to it by now. And it soon melted away into pleasure, because despite his terrible manners, Damian really knew what he was doing; and he did as he was told. He did him good, and hard, and fast, because it had been weeks. Jason could feel how desperate he was, how much he'd missed this, missed him, and most importantly, he realized how much he'd missed it, how he'd needed it, too. All through it, Damian held him close, so close, licking and nibbling at his ear with raw, animalistic affection, his moans turning into strained whimpers when he reached his plateau. And he kept his promise, and he made Jason spill his seed all over his hands before he came inside him.
When it was over, Jason sank into his couch with a soft. "Ow."
There was a low "Nhn," when Damian stretched out next to him. The boy was lovely, his skin glistening with fresh sweat, his features soft and relaxed for once. Afterwards, he always looked … happy, whatever that entailed in Damian's case. When he returned Jason's gaze, it was like he was seeing him with clear eyes for the very first time tonight.
"You really look like hell," he informed Jason, but there was no malice behind it.
"Dude, I know," Jason huffed. He gave Damian a sideways glance. "You good at playing nurse, by any chance?" He asked, with a small flicker of hope.
"No," Damian replied. He sounded almost regretful. He nestled up against Jason; it was as if he didn't even notice he was doing it. His body was warm and welcome. "Actually, I'm very bad at it," he admitted grumpily. "Pennyworth tries to teach me, but I always seem to end up pinching and scratching people. He says it's because I'm too impatient - why is that funny?"
"No reason." Jason patted his knee, chuckling. "Don't worry about it, I can rub iodine on myself. I do it all the time." He sighed. "Guess imma go take that shower now."
"Go ahead," Damian said. "I'll go get some food."
Okay, he had clearly misheard something. "You what?"
Damian shrugged. He seemed almost abashed. "You've been very compliant tonight. I suppose I could buy you dinner. And I did eat that yoghurt …"
"Do it." The boy looked at him in wide-eyed surprise when Jason passionately grabbed him by the shoulders. Now that his boner had been appeased, he could feel his stomach rumbling again. "There's a place right down the street that's open all night. They have big bowls of noodle soup and little sandwiches and hot green tea in giant foam cups and cake. Don't overthink it. Go. Do it now."
"Geez, Todd, calm down." Damian scrunched up his nose at him, but he seemed amused. "I said I'd do it. Hey, can I take the front door this time? It'd be really convenient."
Giving a Wayne access to your keys was a gamble, always. But Jason knew by now that Damian would find a way inside either way, so it probably didn't matter. "Sure. My keys are in my pants and my pants are … somewhere."
"Good." The boy smiled, and got to his feet. "You'll shower. We'll eat. And then, we'll have sex again."
Jason shot him a glare. "No. Nu-uh. Nope."
Still smiling, Damian bent down to kiss his sweat-slicked forehead. "Mmm. We'll see about that," he whispered.
Pairing: Damian Wayne/Jason Todd
Summary: Jason comes home from a long, exhausting mission to find a sexually starved Damian on his couch. Verbal abuse and sex-related negotiations ensue.
Genre: Slash, humor.
Warnings: Banter, barebacking.
Words: 2,796
Universe: Comicverse.
Notes: Damian is in his late teens. Also, this turned out way more domestic than I thought it would … well, as domestic as these two get, anyway.
"Okay, let me get this straight," Jason grumbled, dropping his duffle bag full of guns to the floor. "We're not fucking tonight."
The mischievous smirk on Damian Wayne's face was immediately replaced by a cold glare. He crossed his arms. "You can't be serious," he declared, as if his sheer insistence could make it so.
"I'm dead serious." Jason tossed off his helmet, rubbed his tired eyes, and finally, finally scratched his itchy nose. Ah. That felt good. "You have no idea what I've been through just now."
"I don't," Damian admitted, in a voice that implied 'And I don't care'. "All I know is that you've been gone for two weeks." He sounded almost upset. Not so much because he'd been worried, clearly, but because his youthful, insatiable cock had gone unattended for that long. He looked really appetizing, too, lounging on Jason's couch like an entitled cat, dressed all in black, with that arrogant little face that was so much fun to defile, and a predatory gleam in his eyes.
Jason took a long, hard look at all that, and let out a rueful sigh.
He'd always known this day would come. The day Damian Wayne would learn that, only because Jason sported a kickass red helmet, wielded two guns at the same time, and could take more abuse than a person reasonably should, he still wasn't the human equivalent of a mechanical bull that could be ridden at all times.
"Look," he tried to reason, even though he knew that the results with Damian were spotty at best, "I'm not gonna go into detail, but the reason I didn't call was because we were in space. Like, on another planet. In some kind of alien determent camp, which we eventually escaped through a dumpster, which landed us in - I'm not really firm with the lingo here but I think it's called an 'inter-dimensional vortex', which zapped us back to earth, where we resumed battling a bunch of scaly extraterrestrial overlords on a bridge. That was on fire. So, I'm really tired, I'm really sore, and I'm not banging anybody tonight, not even you."
Damian waited for Jason to finish, looking unimpressed. Then, he stubbornly repeated: "You were gone for two weeks."
Oh, hell.
"Yeah, well." Jason snapped. "I would've hit you up for some phone sex, but I had no service on Neptune."
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Why did I even come here," he complained.
Jason snorted. Affectionate as ever. It made sense, though. He only ever showed up to utilize Jason's body for his pleasure, and Jason let him, because on top of everything else, Damian was also preternaturally gifted at aggressive fucking.
But tonight, all he could muster was a tired shrug. "Fuck if I know, kid, since I sure as hell didn't ask you to come," he said dryly. "In fact, I've recently re-inforced both the door and the windows, so. Not sure how this even happened."
Damian looked very pleased with himself. "You forgot the air vents, like an amateur. Thanks for that."
Jason barked out a laugh. No matter how tired he was, the idea of Batman's boy shimmying through his air vent, driven by the burning desire to bone him, was beautiful. And the image of Damian flat on his stomach, crawling through anything was kind of arousing. Or would have been, if Jason's hottest fantasy right now hadn't been a shower, a meal, perhaps a good cry, and then bed.
He chuckled. "Didn't you get really dirty in there?"
"I did." On the couch, Damian stirred lightly. "I took a shower," he said suggestively. He sure had. His hair was still wet, black and sleek against his smooth, dark skin. Jason would have bet anything that he smelled terrific right now.
He yawned. "Good for you." Then, he left Damian pouting sultrily on the couch, lumbered - because lumbering was all he was capable of at this point - towards his fridge, and opened it.
And frowned. "Did you take the yoghurt that was in here?"
Damian had whipped out his phone and was twiddling around with it. "You weren't showing and I got hungry." He looked up with large innocent eyes. "I only took one," he chirped.
Jason slammed the door shut. "There was only one, you little prick!"
Damian's lips were twitching. "I suppose."
Jason roared, tore open a drawer, grabbed a kitchen knife and threw it in his direction. Damian dodged it like a pro, without even stopping to check his inbox. The knife got stuck in the wall next to his face, still trembling. Jason had expected nothing less from him, or else he wouldn't have done it. Damian was one of the few people in the world - perhaps the only one - who got this, who understood this kind of exchange.
Without looking, the boy plugged out the knife, and threw it back at him with deadly precision.
"It's only yoghurt," he said.
"It was all I had!" Jason caught the knife out of the air, handle first. Then, he tidily put it back into the drawer where it belonged, and closed it noisily. "Not all of us have butlers that magically make food appear whenever we want it!" He checked a cereal box, only to find that it had an ad for a movie on it that had been in theatres last Christmas, and discarded the idea. "D'you know how much nutrition they have on Neptune for like, humans? None." He leaned against the counter for support, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Actually, it wasn't even Neptune. I forgot the name of the place. It was something like … god, I'm so tired."
"It's okay that you're tired," Damian said softly.
"For real?"
Despite himself, Jason perked up at that. It was … an unexpectedly sweet thing to say, especially since this was Damian saying it. To tell the truth, even though he didn't see himself fucking anyone tonight, he didn't mind not being alone. Having someone to talk this shit through with, or maybe not talk at all. Someone to keep him company, someone who'd sit on his bed and zap through the channels while he slowly drifted off to sleep, that'd be nice. He so rarely had that.
"Thanks, man," he said genuinely, "I apprecia -"
He looked up just in time to see Damian eyeing him hungrily.
"Because, you know," the boy purred, "All I really require from you is to lie on your back … that was not a good thing to say," he decided, when he saw the look on Jason's face.
Jason glared at him. "Boy, I sure am mad I already threw a knife at you, because this would be the perfect time to throw a knife at you."
Damian's eyes lit up playfully. "Do it again?"
"Nah." Jason waved lazily. "Now you'd see it coming."
The boy stuffed away his phone and came over to him. The movement of his hips was mesmerizing, even to red, sleep-deprived eyes. Jason remembered Damian being sort of tense and awkward when he'd been a kid, but now he had the fluid, light-footed movements of a seasoned assassin. He hopped onto the counter, lean legs dangling. Jason caught himself staring at them. He knew how lovely and strong those legs were; he'd had them wrapped around his head many times. Some of those times even for sex.
He knew it was totally the wrong thing to enforce his "no fucking" resolution, but Jason couldn't resist leaning over and burying his face against the boy's collar bone, savoring the soft shudder it elicited. Damian's skin was warm and fragrant. Jason trembled against him with a deep sigh. After all he'd gone through, there was a simple, raw, sensual pleasure to this. And he could feel Damian responding to it, even though he probably didn't understand it.
The boy licked his lips. "You need a shower," he pointed out redundantly, but his voice was low and husky.
"Consider yourself lucky," Jason muttered, lips ghosting against his skin. "The burn smell is covering up the dumpster smell."
He'd sorta expected a punch for that, but instead, Damian sucked in his breath, and then the pink tip of his tongue became visible again, trailing across his lips. "I don't mind," he suddenly admitted. "I don't really mind if you're filthy."
Jason let out a strangled "Nnh," when he felt his dick twitch at that. The brat. Never really stopped playing games, but there was something very real about his desire that Jason inevitably went nuts for. He ran his finger across Damian's throat, feeling his pulse. It was racing, hammering.
"Really want it bad, huh." He caught himself getting bedroom voice despite his best efforts.
"Tt." Damian sneered and gave him a reprimanding look, which was much hotter than it had any right to be. "It's not about it, Todd," he scolded him. "I could have it. No matter if you're around or not. I'm rich. I'm young. I'm not hideous. People are willing to overlook the fact that I'm abrasive, because I have a helicopter and my own boat. But …"
He let out a heavy sigh and tugged Jason close by his collar. "But I want it with you," he insisted; he didn't even seem aware of how needy he sounded. "It's always good when it's with you."
He was now flat-out rubbing himself against him; Jason wasn't sure when exactly he'd locked him between his thighs, but it had happened. The sweet friction washed it all away, the hunger, the pain, the heaviness in his bones. And Damian grew as hard and tense as a whip when Jason kissed him on the mouth.
"You're exhausting," he told him when he pulled away. Their lips were almost sticking together, wet and swollen. "You go for hours, you go through all these positions, you always want more. And that's great, but I cannot. Pull that off right now, understood?" He let his big, warm hands slide down and slowly unbuttoned the boy's pants, prompting him to rock against him with a small, impatient hiss. Jason groaned. "Is there any chance in hell that I can just give you a handjob, and you'll be okay with it?"
He looked down. Damn. He should not have unpacked that thing. Now he was reminded how exquisite Damian's dick was, and how much he wanted to play with it.
Damian pouted, but the rest of him started to stir when Jason touched him. "I can do that on my own," he protested, "I don't need to come to you for that."
Jason grinned at him. "Eh. You can't do it like it do," he claimed, and he knew he was right when he saw Damian bite down on his lip, hard, as he squeezed him. The boy's eyes became unfocused, and he grabbed the corners of the counter until his knuckles went white.
"I can get you off in ten seconds, you know," Jason said matter-of-factly, pumping away at him.
Damian looked insulted, but his legs opened wide, and his hips were bucking in his direction. "S-so?" he pushed out from between his gritted teeth, "And I'll be erect again in five." He shivered, his head rolled back and his loins rolled forward. He looked gorgeous, blood pulsing deep in his cheeks. Jason wanted to lick him all over. "At least use your mouth," Damian demanded breathlessly, "Don't be so lazy."
Jason shot him a sardonic smile while he worked his hand. "Forget it, toots. I'm not getting on my knees or straining my neck tonight. No dice."
Damian let out a frustrated roar. "You useless goon," he spat, but then he suddenly shot up, threw his arms around his neck and kissed him, over and over, tearing at his lips with his teeth. Jason moaned, and felt his own hard, hot erection strain painfully against his zipper.
Oh, fuck it. He'd never been that firm in his convictions, anyway.
Damian gasped for air when Jason stopped stroking him, and instead used both hands to tear the boy's pants down over his hips.
"Fine," he said, grimly determined. "Let's get this over with."
"Over with?" Damian arched an indignant eyebrow, but he looked eager, anyway.
"Yeah. You win. I'll lie down on the couch, you do your thing." Jason's voice became muffled when he clumsily pulled his shirt off over his head. "'cause that's what's you really want, isn't it?" Before he knew it, Damian's busy fingers were there, helping him undo his pants, which answered his question.
He was almost done limping to the couch when he flinched in pain as Damian touched the fresh, swelling welts on his back.
"Did someone whip you?" The boy asked, sounding way too interested.
Jason crawled onto his couch. "Alien. Determent. Camp," he growled, and a second later Damian confirmed how turned on he was by that when he wrapped his hands around Jason's waist, pressing a hot kiss onto the back of his neck.
"Quit screwing around," Jason whispered to him, "And just screw me."
"Say please?" Damian teased him, pinching his hips.
"Don't push it," Jason mumbled, rolling over on to his back. He shivered when Damian's slender, naked form slid on top of him. "I only ask for two things. Make it quick, and make me come." He paused. "Please."
Despite his impatience, Damian took a moment to take in the sight of him, grinning. "Will do," he promised.
Like always, there was a moment of soaring pain when the boy took him, but he braced it, he was used to it by now. And it soon melted away into pleasure, because despite his terrible manners, Damian really knew what he was doing; and he did as he was told. He did him good, and hard, and fast, because it had been weeks. Jason could feel how desperate he was, how much he'd missed this, missed him, and most importantly, he realized how much he'd missed it, how he'd needed it, too. All through it, Damian held him close, so close, licking and nibbling at his ear with raw, animalistic affection, his moans turning into strained whimpers when he reached his plateau. And he kept his promise, and he made Jason spill his seed all over his hands before he came inside him.
When it was over, Jason sank into his couch with a soft. "Ow."
There was a low "Nhn," when Damian stretched out next to him. The boy was lovely, his skin glistening with fresh sweat, his features soft and relaxed for once. Afterwards, he always looked … happy, whatever that entailed in Damian's case. When he returned Jason's gaze, it was like he was seeing him with clear eyes for the very first time tonight.
"You really look like hell," he informed Jason, but there was no malice behind it.
"Dude, I know," Jason huffed. He gave Damian a sideways glance. "You good at playing nurse, by any chance?" He asked, with a small flicker of hope.
"No," Damian replied. He sounded almost regretful. He nestled up against Jason; it was as if he didn't even notice he was doing it. His body was warm and welcome. "Actually, I'm very bad at it," he admitted grumpily. "Pennyworth tries to teach me, but I always seem to end up pinching and scratching people. He says it's because I'm too impatient - why is that funny?"
"No reason." Jason patted his knee, chuckling. "Don't worry about it, I can rub iodine on myself. I do it all the time." He sighed. "Guess imma go take that shower now."
"Go ahead," Damian said. "I'll go get some food."
Okay, he had clearly misheard something. "You what?"
Damian shrugged. He seemed almost abashed. "You've been very compliant tonight. I suppose I could buy you dinner. And I did eat that yoghurt …"
"Do it." The boy looked at him in wide-eyed surprise when Jason passionately grabbed him by the shoulders. Now that his boner had been appeased, he could feel his stomach rumbling again. "There's a place right down the street that's open all night. They have big bowls of noodle soup and little sandwiches and hot green tea in giant foam cups and cake. Don't overthink it. Go. Do it now."
"Geez, Todd, calm down." Damian scrunched up his nose at him, but he seemed amused. "I said I'd do it. Hey, can I take the front door this time? It'd be really convenient."
Giving a Wayne access to your keys was a gamble, always. But Jason knew by now that Damian would find a way inside either way, so it probably didn't matter. "Sure. My keys are in my pants and my pants are … somewhere."
"Good." The boy smiled, and got to his feet. "You'll shower. We'll eat. And then, we'll have sex again."
Jason shot him a glare. "No. Nu-uh. Nope."
Still smiling, Damian bent down to kiss his sweat-slicked forehead. "Mmm. We'll see about that," he whispered.