(DCU) In-Flight Entertainment
Title: In-Flight Entertainment
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Hal/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1111
Timeline: DCnU, Justice League #01
Notes: Deep throating. For a prompt at dcu_memes.
Summary: Hal didn't actually know Batman was real until today, but his mouth definitely feels real.
Hal’s life can be pretty fucked up. He’s used to that. Even before he got his ring, before the whole ‘super-powered space cop’ thing began, his life was rarely dull.
On the grand scale of totally crazy shit that Hal measures his life by, today shouldn’t really be all that high up the list, all things considered.
Okay, there was that weird transforming alien that tried to go all suicide bomber on him. But Hal’s seen enough aliens just walking the halls of Oa that there probably shouldn’t be any that can surprise him anymore.
There was the ring failing to identify the weird box thing the alien left behind, but that isn’t so much fucked up as it is slightly disturbing. He’s not used to the ring letting him down, and he’s really going to have to report in to the Guardians soon. If there’s something, anything, out there that they don’t already have a vast wealth of information on then, well, he’s not exactly sure what’ll happen. At the very least, they’ll be intrigued and want him to learn more.
And then there’s his current partner-in-fighting-crime. Hal’s known for a while he’s not the only superhero on Earth. Team-ups were sort of inevitable. And, okay, maybe he wasn’t expecting to find himself teaming with Batman, but that’s only because he wasn’t sure until today that Batman was real. But, yeah, Batman’s real and also a totally normal human with no superpowers whatsoever, and Hal still hasn’t decided which of those concepts surprises him more.
But it still shouldn’t be that much of a crazy day. There’ve only been a few minor explosions, nobody’s sworn vengeance on him, and that weird transforming alien could hardly be counted as a supervillain.
And yet this is definitely the most fucked up day in recent memory. Or maybe just the most fucked hour. Or moment, really damn long moment, because time isn’t really working right for him, and he’s sweating and feeling like he’s about to burst out of his skin.
Batman is real and he’s on his knees in front of Hal and he’s currently doing a really damn amazing job of sucking Hal’s cock.
“Jesus Christ,” Hal mumbles and, son of a bitch, that’s Batman smirking around his cock.
And yeah, Hal doesn’t always play well with others, and he really doesn’t like people who think a gravelly voice and an infamous reputation mean they can start bossing him about.
But if this is Batman’s way of making a point, of putting Hal in his place or maybe just proving himself? Well, Hal’s surprisingly okay with that.
Mostly because Batman gives him a long, hard, dark look, and then his head is sliding even lower, and holy shit. Hal’s cock slides into Batman’s throat, and Hal’s hips try to jerk upwards but Batman has a really firm grip on them, so all he can do is arch and whine for it.
His hands scrabble a little at Batman’s head, but there’s no hair to tangle his fingers in and the cowl feels smooth and slippery. So he ends up grabbing at the pointy little ears, which gets him a really pissy glare, but Hal figures if Batman doesn’t want people hanging on to them then he shouldn’t suddenly fucking deep-throat a person without warning.
God, it’s so damn tight, soft velvety heat all snug around his cock, and Hal can feel his balls tightening up, feel his eyes start to roll up into his head.
And that’s when the asshole pulls back.
“Concentrate,” Batman growls, and it takes Hal a moment to process what he’s saying because all his brain can focus on is the way Batman’s voice sounds even more rough and hoarse than it did in Gotham.
Of course, then he notices the way the jet construct is sort of wavering around them, the shape of it growing less and less distinct as the details fade away.
Hal’s pretty good at multitasking when it comes to his ring, but apparently his super-secret weakness is incredibly skilled blowjobs.
“I’m good, I’m good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, willing the jet back into the shiny green perfection it was when he first created it. He wills some arm rests while he’s at it, which gives him something to grip other than Batman’s ears.
And Batman just dives back in, like this is all totally normal, like he loves doing this, and maybe he does.
Maybe Hal should do this team-up thing more often.
There’s pretty much no way he can last, and almost as soon as he’s slipping into that tight heat again, he’s losing it. Somehow it feels even more intense the second time, and Hal knows he’s groaning embarrassingly loudly and he’s pretty sure Batman would be smirking again if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.
It’s like someone just punched him in the gut, sudden dull rush of something that edges real close to pain but still feels so damn good. He squeezes his eyes shut, begs his ring not to fail him, as light explodes across the backs of his eyelids. Heartbeat thundering in his air, and Batman’s still working his mouth on him as Hal comes, hips straining against Batman’s hold on them, fingers digging into glowing green armrests hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
He can feel his mind trying to shut down in a warm haze, so he focuses every last bit of concentration he can muster on keeping the plane together so they don’t fall out of the sky. There’s a football game below them, and wouldn’t that just be peachy, them dropping down in the middle of that, Hal half-dressed and Batman’s lips swollen and obviously used.
As soon as he’s confident that the jet won’t disintegrate around them, he lets his mind start to kick back into something like working order.
Batman’s staring levelly at him, and he looks perfectly in order, stoic and threatening.
Except for his mouth, which is pink and bruised.
“How long until we’re in Metropolis?” he asks with a bite of impatience.
Hal opens his mouth but he has absolutely no idea what to say.
“Are you crazy?”
“Don’t you want me to …you know?”
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“Seriously, are you crazy?”
All valid possibilities, but what tumbles out instead is, “Three minutes, tops.”
Batman nods sharply, and apparently the conversation is over, and Hal can’t even tell if the bastard is turned on and aching under all that armour.
Definitely the most fucked up day in recent memory.
But Hal already knows he’s going to do this team-up thing again.
Soon.
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Hal/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1111
Timeline: DCnU, Justice League #01
Notes: Deep throating. For a prompt at dcu_memes.
Summary: Hal didn't actually know Batman was real until today, but his mouth definitely feels real.
Hal’s life can be pretty fucked up. He’s used to that. Even before he got his ring, before the whole ‘super-powered space cop’ thing began, his life was rarely dull.
On the grand scale of totally crazy shit that Hal measures his life by, today shouldn’t really be all that high up the list, all things considered.
Okay, there was that weird transforming alien that tried to go all suicide bomber on him. But Hal’s seen enough aliens just walking the halls of Oa that there probably shouldn’t be any that can surprise him anymore.
There was the ring failing to identify the weird box thing the alien left behind, but that isn’t so much fucked up as it is slightly disturbing. He’s not used to the ring letting him down, and he’s really going to have to report in to the Guardians soon. If there’s something, anything, out there that they don’t already have a vast wealth of information on then, well, he’s not exactly sure what’ll happen. At the very least, they’ll be intrigued and want him to learn more.
And then there’s his current partner-in-fighting-crime. Hal’s known for a while he’s not the only superhero on Earth. Team-ups were sort of inevitable. And, okay, maybe he wasn’t expecting to find himself teaming with Batman, but that’s only because he wasn’t sure until today that Batman was real. But, yeah, Batman’s real and also a totally normal human with no superpowers whatsoever, and Hal still hasn’t decided which of those concepts surprises him more.
But it still shouldn’t be that much of a crazy day. There’ve only been a few minor explosions, nobody’s sworn vengeance on him, and that weird transforming alien could hardly be counted as a supervillain.
And yet this is definitely the most fucked up day in recent memory. Or maybe just the most fucked hour. Or moment, really damn long moment, because time isn’t really working right for him, and he’s sweating and feeling like he’s about to burst out of his skin.
Batman is real and he’s on his knees in front of Hal and he’s currently doing a really damn amazing job of sucking Hal’s cock.
“Jesus Christ,” Hal mumbles and, son of a bitch, that’s Batman smirking around his cock.
And yeah, Hal doesn’t always play well with others, and he really doesn’t like people who think a gravelly voice and an infamous reputation mean they can start bossing him about.
But if this is Batman’s way of making a point, of putting Hal in his place or maybe just proving himself? Well, Hal’s surprisingly okay with that.
Mostly because Batman gives him a long, hard, dark look, and then his head is sliding even lower, and holy shit. Hal’s cock slides into Batman’s throat, and Hal’s hips try to jerk upwards but Batman has a really firm grip on them, so all he can do is arch and whine for it.
His hands scrabble a little at Batman’s head, but there’s no hair to tangle his fingers in and the cowl feels smooth and slippery. So he ends up grabbing at the pointy little ears, which gets him a really pissy glare, but Hal figures if Batman doesn’t want people hanging on to them then he shouldn’t suddenly fucking deep-throat a person without warning.
God, it’s so damn tight, soft velvety heat all snug around his cock, and Hal can feel his balls tightening up, feel his eyes start to roll up into his head.
And that’s when the asshole pulls back.
“Concentrate,” Batman growls, and it takes Hal a moment to process what he’s saying because all his brain can focus on is the way Batman’s voice sounds even more rough and hoarse than it did in Gotham.
Of course, then he notices the way the jet construct is sort of wavering around them, the shape of it growing less and less distinct as the details fade away.
Hal’s pretty good at multitasking when it comes to his ring, but apparently his super-secret weakness is incredibly skilled blowjobs.
“I’m good, I’m good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, willing the jet back into the shiny green perfection it was when he first created it. He wills some arm rests while he’s at it, which gives him something to grip other than Batman’s ears.
And Batman just dives back in, like this is all totally normal, like he loves doing this, and maybe he does.
Maybe Hal should do this team-up thing more often.
There’s pretty much no way he can last, and almost as soon as he’s slipping into that tight heat again, he’s losing it. Somehow it feels even more intense the second time, and Hal knows he’s groaning embarrassingly loudly and he’s pretty sure Batman would be smirking again if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.
It’s like someone just punched him in the gut, sudden dull rush of something that edges real close to pain but still feels so damn good. He squeezes his eyes shut, begs his ring not to fail him, as light explodes across the backs of his eyelids. Heartbeat thundering in his air, and Batman’s still working his mouth on him as Hal comes, hips straining against Batman’s hold on them, fingers digging into glowing green armrests hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
He can feel his mind trying to shut down in a warm haze, so he focuses every last bit of concentration he can muster on keeping the plane together so they don’t fall out of the sky. There’s a football game below them, and wouldn’t that just be peachy, them dropping down in the middle of that, Hal half-dressed and Batman’s lips swollen and obviously used.
As soon as he’s confident that the jet won’t disintegrate around them, he lets his mind start to kick back into something like working order.
Batman’s staring levelly at him, and he looks perfectly in order, stoic and threatening.
Except for his mouth, which is pink and bruised.
“How long until we’re in Metropolis?” he asks with a bite of impatience.
Hal opens his mouth but he has absolutely no idea what to say.
“Are you crazy?”
“Don’t you want me to …you know?”
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“Seriously, are you crazy?”
All valid possibilities, but what tumbles out instead is, “Three minutes, tops.”
Batman nods sharply, and apparently the conversation is over, and Hal can’t even tell if the bastard is turned on and aching under all that armour.
Definitely the most fucked up day in recent memory.
But Hal already knows he’s going to do this team-up thing again.
Soon.