FIC: A Revealing Encounter (Batman Begins, Ducard/Crane, NC-17)
A Revealing Encounter
Author: padawanhilary and telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: Batman Begins, Ducard/Crane
Rating: NC-17
wtf_27: 13/50 -- Fuck or Die
Word Count: 3,718
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Summary: Jonathan Crane finds posing as Henri Ducard's paid companion to be a rather revealing experience. Ducard would undoubtedly agree.
Notes: For some reason these two came to mind when we decided to write for the fuck or die prompt. I want to say that this is a one off, but hey, it's us, so who knows?
Ducard walks away from the meeting nearly smug; that went exactly the way he needed it to and now there is a direct funneling of opium into a major Asian city with a high wealthy contingency. Perfect. He rests his hand on the small of his escort's back, guiding him toward the limousine and pressing him in when the driver opens the door.
As he slides in beside Jonathan, he glances at the dome light casually, then at the door locks. Giving Jonathan an indulgent smile, he pulls out a cigarette case and snaps it open, then withdraws a cigarette and taps the filter end three times on the case, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he bestows another smile -- this one with the glance cutting upward -- on the man masquerading as his lover. The car is bugged, and bugged heavily. They probably heard him smile.
Pulling out a sterling silver lighter, Jonathan lights Ducard's cigarette and offers a tight little smile of his own. He hates this charade but Ducard insisted on it and when Ducard insists, the huge budget that Jonathan receives from the man ensures that he'll obey. "Did your meeting go well, Monsieur Ducard?" For a boy who grew up in Gotham, Jonathan can manage a couple of different accents rather well and right now he sounds just a little too posh, like someone trying for an English public school accent and taking it too far.
"Very well, thank you." Ducard holds the cigarette away from his mouth to speak. "I am glad the business is concluded for the evening, though." He leans over and nuzzles at Jonathan's ear, just catching the eye of the chauffeur as he does it. "I'm looking forward to relaxing."
"Of course," Jonathan said, wishing like hell he hadn't allowed himself to be talked into this. Like you could say no to him, he thinks as he leans into Ducard's caress. He's a little frightened though; this will be nothing like his hesitant fumbling with college friends.
Ducard can very nearly feel the nervousness rolling off of Jonathan, and it's titillating in its own right. He smiles, wondering what the young doctor is going to make of things when he realizes that this little charade has to go on past the limousine. Ducard had the room searched hours ago and has already received the reports: the surveillance is heavier there than in the cab.
"Perhaps a little more than just relaxing," he purrs, nuzzling at Jonathan's ear.
"Whatever you want, Sir," Jonathan replies, and the shiver that goes through his body isn't entirely faked. Ducard, he suddenly realizes, is nothing like the clumsy boys in Jonathan's past, and as that warm mouth lingers over his neck, Jonathan moans.
"Whatever I want," Ducard muses wryly. "Of course." He pulls back after a little caress to Jonathan's jaw. We'll see how far that carries us once we get to the room.
When the limo driver lets them out at the hotel, Jonathan knows enough not to change his demeanor. He keeps just a little too close as they move through the lobby and even leans a little against Ducard as they wait for the elevator.
As Ducard looks around, bearing all the casual importance of a corporate tycoon, he sees the clerk subtly eyeing them from behind the front desk, the concierge making a phone call and glancing up, the bellhop carting a load of bags. Any of them could be watching -- or not. It's nearly impossible to tell, and Ducard simply didn't feel the need to invest the time in searching the whole hotel.
When they reach the room, though, that's another story, and there's no point in trying to revert to their normal personas until they make it back home. Giving Jonathan a sly smile, Ducard pulls him close and kisses him, one arm wrapped strongly around Jonathan's waist.
It takes everything Jonathan has not to struggle when he's pulled against Ducard. If only the man weren't so damn big, or weren't far stronger than someone his age--whatever that is--should be. Going up on his tiptoes after the kiss, Jonathan nibbles at Ducard's ear. "Do we need to do this here?" he breathes, ever so softly.
When Ducard whispers back it's so soft he has to press his lips against Jonathan's earlobe. "Don't be naive. I had a crew sweep the room." He cups Jonathan's face in his hands and gives him a long, crushing kiss, intending to make no mistake for anyone watching that this is an honest-to-God lust.
That it's honest-to-God lust is all too obvious to Jonathan, given the evidence he has pressing up against him. To his surprise, he finds himself kissing back and moaning a little into Ducard's mouth. And he knows he's presenting evidence of his own interest in all this as well.
"I like that," Ducard rumbles, smiling and reaching between them to give that evidence a squeeze. He could be speaking for the cameras, a wealthy man to a kept boy, or he could be Henri Ducard speaking to young Dr. Jonathan Crane. Either way, he's piloting his companion back toward the bed now, hands gripping Jonathan's upper arms.
A little dazed after feeling that big hand on his cock, Jonathan allows himself to be moved to the bed before he realizes that he should be doing more than he is. Twisting deftly out of Ducard's grip, he reaches up and rests his hands on the lapels of Ducard's suit. "May I?"
"Please do." Ducard can't seem to keep the dry amusement out of his eyes, now; Jonathan looks almost virginal in his surprise, and that's a bit of a thrill all on its own.
Giving Ducard his best pouty-lipped smile, Jonathan carefully removed the suit jacket, draping it over a chair. Damn suit probably cost him more than my entire wardrobe, he thinks as he slowly unknots Ducard's tie. Once he's done with that, he drops to his knees to remove Ducard's shoes and socks, trying to avoid looking at the thick bulge in those beautifully tailored slacks.
"For an escort," Ducard teases, "you seem awfully shy." He tilts his head. "Are you shy, boy?" Naked, Ducard tugs Jonathan up in front of him and takes one of those soft hands in his, wrapping it around his erection. "Did I purchase a virgin for the evening?"
"Your agent thought you might like someone who wasn't...coarse," Jonathan says, rubbing his fingers over the bulk of Ducard's cock. "I hope you don't mind that I'm not as experienced as some you might have had."
"I don't mind a bit." Ducard hisses in a soft breath at the feel of those fingers on him. "I might even show you a thing or two to share with your next client." Which will be myself, if he continues to be so damned edible. Ducard kisses Jonathan again, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and starting to work at the buttons on his shirt.
"I hope so," Jonathan says trying to keep his hands on Ducard's cock while allowing him to remove Jonathan's shirt. It's clumsy, but damn hot, and he moans again at the touch of those big hands on his bare skin.
This is an unusual position to be in; on the one hand, Ducard is portraying a man who has rented his companion for the evening. That implies a bit of savvy on the part of the companion, of course. But this added layer, this newness Jonathan is bringing to the role, is intriguing.
"If you learn quickly enough, I might ask for you again," Ducard says, smiling just a bit. He presses Jonathan to the bed and kneels, tugging off shoes and socks and then slacks and briefs before sliding his hands up slender thighs to the boy's hips. When was the last time he had a mouth on him? Ducard wonders, and then pulls Jonathan to the edge of the bed to take his cock in, swirling his tongue around the head. That'll give surveillance something to think about, he grins inwardly.
"Oh!" Jonathan cries out, not needing to pretend to be surprised. "Oh God," he groans, clutching the bedcovers to keep from grabbing Ducard's hair. "Please...shouldn't I be...?"
"We'll get to that," Ducard purrs when he pulls off, nuzzling the shaft. He licks at it, tilting his head back to watch Jonathan's eyes. It's been ages -- literally -- since he's had someone so young, and he intends to enjoy it, since he's more or less been forced into the situation.
While Jonathan's incredibly grateful that Ducard is making this as easy as possible for him, he still can't help worrying a little at the gleam in Ducard's cool blue eyes. I like studying fear, he thinks as he sits up and reaches out to pull Ducard closer. Not feeling it.
Responding to the apparent hunger Jonathan's radiating, Ducard shifts up and over him on the bed to kiss him again. This is better now, Ducard's hands running over warm skin and a surprising amount of muscle. Jonathan's quite attractive, and Ducard wonders briefly what the doctor finds intriguing when he's not being pressed into questionable sexual situations in monitored hotel rooms.
"Please," Jonathan moans, arching up into Ducard's hands. He slides one of his own hands between them, and then swallows hard as he begins to stroke Ducard's cock, which seems even bigger without the covering of clothing. "Want you."
"Want me how, Jonathan?" Ducard breathes, for Jonathan's ears only. "Are you a virgin? Do you want me to take you?" He presses his hips toward Jonathan's hand.
"Yes," Jonathan hisses every so softly. "To both questions." He works Ducard's cock slowly, trying not to think about it going inside him. And yet...he shivers as he realizes that he can't really think about anything else.
"Mm." Ducard pulls back and gets down off of the bed, shooting Jonathan a lazy look as he takes up his slacks where the condom and a small packet of lube await. "You look amazing," he murmurs, taking in Jonathan's appearance, flushed and tense, waiting for Ducard.
"So do you," Jonathan says, and while his voice sounds just a little professional and artificial, he actually does mean the words. Ducard isn't the biggest man Jonathan's ever seen, but he's certainly one of the most fit, and, once more Jonathan finds himself wondering how old the man really is.
Pleased, Ducard smiles and moves back onto the bed. He has no compunction about fucking this boy in this particular scenario, and he's not particularly romantic about taking virginity, either. Still, it is at least brave of Jonathan to offer himself up for the sake of a cover.
With that in mind, Ducard liberally wets his fingers with lube and presses them between Jonathan's legs, massaging gently, watching his face.
"Ohhhh," Jonathan had touched himself there a time or two, but this was different. This is someone teasing him, readying him for something, and he's not sure if he can bear the suspense. If I could be myself, I'd ask him to just do it and not dick around. The pun doesn't really have the power to distract him though, and he tilts his hips, pressing against Ducard's fingers.
"Mm," Ducard hums appreciatively. "I think I'll ask for virgins from now on." He presses one finger in, stroking his way into that tight heat -- he'd forgotten how tight a virgin could be. "I hear the agency is accommodating that way."
"For you, Monsieur," Jonathan stammers, twisting on the bed. "Any...anything. Oh please....."
That gives Ducard another twinge of amusement; Jonathan is hardly in a position to promise him a virgin with every engagement, even were he in this fictional establishment offering boys to the wealthy and bored. Still, he likes that incoherence. He twists his finger, crooking it and dragging the pad over Jonathan's prostate, holding in a smile.
"Ah!" Jonathan cries out sharply. "Oh God, so good!" He knows he should be playing the whore, making his client fell good, but this is too amazing and he's quickly forgetting that it's all a ruse.
Ducard can see why men seem to develop an unutterable fascination for virgins now. It's enticing to know that he'll be the first one in Jonathan. He draws back and then presses in with two fingers, twisting his hand again and wondering how Jonathan would respond to biting. To handcuffs. To a dozen different things.
This hurts more, but it's still so good, and once more Jonathan finds himself wishing to hell that Ducard would just fuck him. He's embarrassed at the little whining noises he's making in the back of his throat, and he reaches for Ducard's other hand, kissing at it and licking the long fingers.
Oh, that's brilliant. Ducard hums in appreciation, then pushes in with three fingers, rushing a bit, impatient. Impatient. That's something he doesn't allow himself very often.
Whimpering more, Jonathan opens his mouth, drawing two of Ducard's fingers in and sucking on them hard. He tries--wants--to focus his attention on the fingers or on the clinical, physiological aspects of his hole being stretched open, but it's a losing battle and he presses against Ducard's fingers hard.
"Like that, do you?" Ducard growls, pushing in more sharply now. Gods, but this boy is gorgeous, he could be a professional escort, all sex and poutiness, but no; he's easily qualified to give Ducard professional advice on how to handle every man sitting around that negotiating table tonight -- which he did, nervous tics, eye contact habits and body language included. Dr. Jonathan Crane may well be a genius -- but right now, Ducard is withdrawing his fingers, getting ready to fuck him.
Forcing himself to pay attention, Jonathan takes the condom from Ducard's hands and tears the packet open. After slowly rolling it down Ducard's cock, he bites his lower lip and looks up at Ducard through his eyelashes. "Fuck me, please?" he murmurs, knowing this kind of pose would never really work on this man.
Right now, Ducard couldn't swear to that, though. He can't recall ever having been presented with anything more tempting -- and that's a lot of years of recollection.
"Yes," he breathes, angling down and pressing in, biting back a groan at the incredible heat slowly engulfing him. "Jonathan. Yes."
Moaning, Jonathan struggles not to pull back, not to insist that this stop right now because it really hurts. He tempers his moaning, hoping like it sounds as if he's enjoying this. Oh God it hurts...fuck I had no idea it was going to hurt this much.
Ducard grits his teeth against the amazing tightness, bracing himself with his palms on the bed as he presses in, and then he's there, buried. He stops for an instant, watching Jonathan writhe like a professional under him, and realizes this is probably going to be worth an extra stipend. He is a whore, he thinks with some amusement, wondering if Jonathan would find it nearly so funny.
When he starts to thrust again, it's with shallow, easy movements, keeping himself deep enough to nudge that place inside Jonathan with every stroke.
Although Jonathan knows all about sex intellectually, it's still a surprise when it starts to feel good, largely because it hasn't stopped hurting. But this is a pain that he's never felt before and, anyway, the pleasure is quickly out pacing the discomfort. "Please," he moans, moving hesitantly against Ducard.
Leaning close, Ducard whispers, "I like that." That please sounds so good coming from Jonathan, almost decadent.
Jonathan more than likes it, sometime later on he will realize that it was in this moment that he understood why people do such insane things to feel this feeling. Now all he knows is that he needs to feel it and more of it. "Please," he moans. "Oh God, please more!"
"More?" Ducard pushes up, tucking his knees closer to Jonathan's arse and giving a hard, sharp thrust before quickly drawing back to do it again. "Like that?"
"Yes," Jonathan says, sounding surprised. "Oh God yes," he presses up against Ducard, his hands going to the man's hips where they cling tightly.
Ducard likes that, too, Jonathan's need to hang on, and it stabilizes them a bit as Ducard finds a rhythm. "Good," he breathes, then groans as the angle catches just right.
Unable to do anything but gasp for breath, Jonathan clings to Ducard tightly. He guessed my role better than I thought: I'm a whore. The problem with that sudden realization is that it makes him feel humiliated, which in turn, somehow, makes this even better.
Gritting his teeth, Ducard hisses air in and out between them, lengthening his thrusts just enough to get a bit more leverage. Jonathan is beautiful like this, unfettered, nothing like the controlled, expert persona he projects to the world, to the stronghold, to Gotham City. Ducard stares at Jonathan, wishing to imprint this moment on his memory.
Any thought he might have about why he was right to be afraid of this vanish as Jonathan gets wound up tighter and tighter. "Please," he's soon moaning over and over. "Pleasepleaseplease..."
"That's right, Jonathan," Ducard grits out, bracing himself on one forearm and reaches between them with the other hand, giving Jonathan's erection a sharp squeeze before stroking him off quickly. "Come for me."
With a loud shout, Jonathan obeys, knowing that it's as much Ducard's command that sets him off as it is the hand on his cock or Ducard's cock inside him. Not that it matters as he digs his fingers into Ducard's arms and wonders if he'll ever be able to breath again.
Ducard isn't far behind. His own orgasm comes with a gritted cry, and it leaves him breathless, too, and a bit gratified to see Jonathan in the same state.
Bending his head, he gives Jonathan a brief kiss before easing back carefully, settling next to him with a gruff sigh.
It takes a moment for Jonathan to remember that he's playing the part of a whore. All too well, he thinks, still feeling that odd thrill of shame. My next session is going to be interesting.
Sitting up, he smiles at Ducard. "I hope you were pleased, Sir," he says before getting off the bed and padding into the bathroom. He returns with a warm damp towel and deals with the condom and the clean up before sitting on the bed. "May I get you a drink?"
Giving Jonathan a dry look, Ducard wipes off a bit and rolls the towel up. "That would be fine. Be comfortable; you may consider yourself...off-duty for the rest of the evening." He cocks half a smile. "Especially considering the fact that the team of sweepers I sent in removed the surveillance."
"You...." Jonathan stops and looks at Ducard with narrowed eyes. "And was there a point to this whole exercise?" he asks. "Or did you just want a good hard fuck and were too cheap to get yourself a real whore?"
Ducard's eyes narrow as well; he stands, tugging on his briefs and going to the bar to pour himself a scotch. "Do you honestly presume that I would do anything for reasons so petty?" He turns his head to glower at Jonathan. "I had to be certain you would do anything to maintain a charade."
"Oh did you?" Jonathan says, not sure why he's baiting a man who can kill him with a single blow. "And just why did you need to know that, Monsieur Ducard?"
Swiftly and silently, Ducard advances on the young Dr. Crane to wrap a hand around his throat and give a threatening squeeze.
"Because," he murmurs softly, voice utterly cool, "you are of no use to me otherwise."
Jonathan's mind kicks into overdrive, one part of it coolly noting that fear is different when you're naked and still somewhat aroused. "I wasn't aware that you expected your researchers to maintain charades." And this is pure foolishness; with the kind of research Jonathan does, charades are inevitable.
"There is always the potential for that need," Ducard replies calmly, dropping his hand. "And you are working on some very critical and potentially...sticky material for me."
"Very well," Jonathan says. "This was a...rather revealing encounter. You aren't the only one who learned something." Ignoring the fact that he's naked, he moves to the mini bar and mixes a vodka tonic.
"Oh, really?" Ducard sets his scotch down and goes to his hanging bag to retrieve his robe. "What is it you think you've learned?"
"Several things about myself that are both obvious and of no concern to you, and the fact that you have a certain callous disregard for the people you employ."
"Everything is of concern to me, and if the 'obvious' issue is a physical attraction, I should think that would be the least of your worries. I've made it abundantly clear that it's returned. And this was absolutely nothing like 'callous disregard.' If I'd allowed you to be harmed, now that would be different."
"If I hadn't wanted it, would you have gone through with it anyway?" Jonathan asks, keeping to the safer topic. It's interesting; he'd have not thought that Ducard was the kind of man to justify his actions.
Ducard gives Jonathan a look that is both affronted and disgusted; he doesn't even gratify that with a response, only belts his robe and takes up his scotch again.
Shrugging, Jonathan sips at his drink. "And now that we've taken each other's measure?" he asks. "What next?"
Watching Jonathan carefully, Ducard considers. "What next." He tilts his head. "You continue to work on the projects I've assigned you. I continue to fund your research. And if it suits us at the time and place, whenever and wherever that happens to be, perhaps more."
"I see," Jonathan says. He thinks it over for a moment, while it is disturbing that Ducard affects him as much as he does, he thinks he can live with this arrangement. "Very well, Monsieur Ducard," he says, letting his body move into a relaxed and rather blatantly sexual stance. "Shall we order in tonight?"
-end-
Author: padawanhilary and telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: Batman Begins, Ducard/Crane
Rating: NC-17
wtf_27: 13/50 -- Fuck or Die
Word Count: 3,718
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.
Summary: Jonathan Crane finds posing as Henri Ducard's paid companion to be a rather revealing experience. Ducard would undoubtedly agree.
Notes: For some reason these two came to mind when we decided to write for the fuck or die prompt. I want to say that this is a one off, but hey, it's us, so who knows?
Ducard walks away from the meeting nearly smug; that went exactly the way he needed it to and now there is a direct funneling of opium into a major Asian city with a high wealthy contingency. Perfect. He rests his hand on the small of his escort's back, guiding him toward the limousine and pressing him in when the driver opens the door.
As he slides in beside Jonathan, he glances at the dome light casually, then at the door locks. Giving Jonathan an indulgent smile, he pulls out a cigarette case and snaps it open, then withdraws a cigarette and taps the filter end three times on the case, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he bestows another smile -- this one with the glance cutting upward -- on the man masquerading as his lover. The car is bugged, and bugged heavily. They probably heard him smile.
Pulling out a sterling silver lighter, Jonathan lights Ducard's cigarette and offers a tight little smile of his own. He hates this charade but Ducard insisted on it and when Ducard insists, the huge budget that Jonathan receives from the man ensures that he'll obey. "Did your meeting go well, Monsieur Ducard?" For a boy who grew up in Gotham, Jonathan can manage a couple of different accents rather well and right now he sounds just a little too posh, like someone trying for an English public school accent and taking it too far.
"Very well, thank you." Ducard holds the cigarette away from his mouth to speak. "I am glad the business is concluded for the evening, though." He leans over and nuzzles at Jonathan's ear, just catching the eye of the chauffeur as he does it. "I'm looking forward to relaxing."
"Of course," Jonathan said, wishing like hell he hadn't allowed himself to be talked into this. Like you could say no to him, he thinks as he leans into Ducard's caress. He's a little frightened though; this will be nothing like his hesitant fumbling with college friends.
Ducard can very nearly feel the nervousness rolling off of Jonathan, and it's titillating in its own right. He smiles, wondering what the young doctor is going to make of things when he realizes that this little charade has to go on past the limousine. Ducard had the room searched hours ago and has already received the reports: the surveillance is heavier there than in the cab.
"Perhaps a little more than just relaxing," he purrs, nuzzling at Jonathan's ear.
"Whatever you want, Sir," Jonathan replies, and the shiver that goes through his body isn't entirely faked. Ducard, he suddenly realizes, is nothing like the clumsy boys in Jonathan's past, and as that warm mouth lingers over his neck, Jonathan moans.
"Whatever I want," Ducard muses wryly. "Of course." He pulls back after a little caress to Jonathan's jaw. We'll see how far that carries us once we get to the room.
When the limo driver lets them out at the hotel, Jonathan knows enough not to change his demeanor. He keeps just a little too close as they move through the lobby and even leans a little against Ducard as they wait for the elevator.
As Ducard looks around, bearing all the casual importance of a corporate tycoon, he sees the clerk subtly eyeing them from behind the front desk, the concierge making a phone call and glancing up, the bellhop carting a load of bags. Any of them could be watching -- or not. It's nearly impossible to tell, and Ducard simply didn't feel the need to invest the time in searching the whole hotel.
When they reach the room, though, that's another story, and there's no point in trying to revert to their normal personas until they make it back home. Giving Jonathan a sly smile, Ducard pulls him close and kisses him, one arm wrapped strongly around Jonathan's waist.
It takes everything Jonathan has not to struggle when he's pulled against Ducard. If only the man weren't so damn big, or weren't far stronger than someone his age--whatever that is--should be. Going up on his tiptoes after the kiss, Jonathan nibbles at Ducard's ear. "Do we need to do this here?" he breathes, ever so softly.
When Ducard whispers back it's so soft he has to press his lips against Jonathan's earlobe. "Don't be naive. I had a crew sweep the room." He cups Jonathan's face in his hands and gives him a long, crushing kiss, intending to make no mistake for anyone watching that this is an honest-to-God lust.
That it's honest-to-God lust is all too obvious to Jonathan, given the evidence he has pressing up against him. To his surprise, he finds himself kissing back and moaning a little into Ducard's mouth. And he knows he's presenting evidence of his own interest in all this as well.
"I like that," Ducard rumbles, smiling and reaching between them to give that evidence a squeeze. He could be speaking for the cameras, a wealthy man to a kept boy, or he could be Henri Ducard speaking to young Dr. Jonathan Crane. Either way, he's piloting his companion back toward the bed now, hands gripping Jonathan's upper arms.
A little dazed after feeling that big hand on his cock, Jonathan allows himself to be moved to the bed before he realizes that he should be doing more than he is. Twisting deftly out of Ducard's grip, he reaches up and rests his hands on the lapels of Ducard's suit. "May I?"
"Please do." Ducard can't seem to keep the dry amusement out of his eyes, now; Jonathan looks almost virginal in his surprise, and that's a bit of a thrill all on its own.
Giving Ducard his best pouty-lipped smile, Jonathan carefully removed the suit jacket, draping it over a chair. Damn suit probably cost him more than my entire wardrobe, he thinks as he slowly unknots Ducard's tie. Once he's done with that, he drops to his knees to remove Ducard's shoes and socks, trying to avoid looking at the thick bulge in those beautifully tailored slacks.
"For an escort," Ducard teases, "you seem awfully shy." He tilts his head. "Are you shy, boy?" Naked, Ducard tugs Jonathan up in front of him and takes one of those soft hands in his, wrapping it around his erection. "Did I purchase a virgin for the evening?"
"Your agent thought you might like someone who wasn't...coarse," Jonathan says, rubbing his fingers over the bulk of Ducard's cock. "I hope you don't mind that I'm not as experienced as some you might have had."
"I don't mind a bit." Ducard hisses in a soft breath at the feel of those fingers on him. "I might even show you a thing or two to share with your next client." Which will be myself, if he continues to be so damned edible. Ducard kisses Jonathan again, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and starting to work at the buttons on his shirt.
"I hope so," Jonathan says trying to keep his hands on Ducard's cock while allowing him to remove Jonathan's shirt. It's clumsy, but damn hot, and he moans again at the touch of those big hands on his bare skin.
This is an unusual position to be in; on the one hand, Ducard is portraying a man who has rented his companion for the evening. That implies a bit of savvy on the part of the companion, of course. But this added layer, this newness Jonathan is bringing to the role, is intriguing.
"If you learn quickly enough, I might ask for you again," Ducard says, smiling just a bit. He presses Jonathan to the bed and kneels, tugging off shoes and socks and then slacks and briefs before sliding his hands up slender thighs to the boy's hips. When was the last time he had a mouth on him? Ducard wonders, and then pulls Jonathan to the edge of the bed to take his cock in, swirling his tongue around the head. That'll give surveillance something to think about, he grins inwardly.
"Oh!" Jonathan cries out, not needing to pretend to be surprised. "Oh God," he groans, clutching the bedcovers to keep from grabbing Ducard's hair. "Please...shouldn't I be...?"
"We'll get to that," Ducard purrs when he pulls off, nuzzling the shaft. He licks at it, tilting his head back to watch Jonathan's eyes. It's been ages -- literally -- since he's had someone so young, and he intends to enjoy it, since he's more or less been forced into the situation.
While Jonathan's incredibly grateful that Ducard is making this as easy as possible for him, he still can't help worrying a little at the gleam in Ducard's cool blue eyes. I like studying fear, he thinks as he sits up and reaches out to pull Ducard closer. Not feeling it.
Responding to the apparent hunger Jonathan's radiating, Ducard shifts up and over him on the bed to kiss him again. This is better now, Ducard's hands running over warm skin and a surprising amount of muscle. Jonathan's quite attractive, and Ducard wonders briefly what the doctor finds intriguing when he's not being pressed into questionable sexual situations in monitored hotel rooms.
"Please," Jonathan moans, arching up into Ducard's hands. He slides one of his own hands between them, and then swallows hard as he begins to stroke Ducard's cock, which seems even bigger without the covering of clothing. "Want you."
"Want me how, Jonathan?" Ducard breathes, for Jonathan's ears only. "Are you a virgin? Do you want me to take you?" He presses his hips toward Jonathan's hand.
"Yes," Jonathan hisses every so softly. "To both questions." He works Ducard's cock slowly, trying not to think about it going inside him. And yet...he shivers as he realizes that he can't really think about anything else.
"Mm." Ducard pulls back and gets down off of the bed, shooting Jonathan a lazy look as he takes up his slacks where the condom and a small packet of lube await. "You look amazing," he murmurs, taking in Jonathan's appearance, flushed and tense, waiting for Ducard.
"So do you," Jonathan says, and while his voice sounds just a little professional and artificial, he actually does mean the words. Ducard isn't the biggest man Jonathan's ever seen, but he's certainly one of the most fit, and, once more Jonathan finds himself wondering how old the man really is.
Pleased, Ducard smiles and moves back onto the bed. He has no compunction about fucking this boy in this particular scenario, and he's not particularly romantic about taking virginity, either. Still, it is at least brave of Jonathan to offer himself up for the sake of a cover.
With that in mind, Ducard liberally wets his fingers with lube and presses them between Jonathan's legs, massaging gently, watching his face.
"Ohhhh," Jonathan had touched himself there a time or two, but this was different. This is someone teasing him, readying him for something, and he's not sure if he can bear the suspense. If I could be myself, I'd ask him to just do it and not dick around. The pun doesn't really have the power to distract him though, and he tilts his hips, pressing against Ducard's fingers.
"Mm," Ducard hums appreciatively. "I think I'll ask for virgins from now on." He presses one finger in, stroking his way into that tight heat -- he'd forgotten how tight a virgin could be. "I hear the agency is accommodating that way."
"For you, Monsieur," Jonathan stammers, twisting on the bed. "Any...anything. Oh please....."
That gives Ducard another twinge of amusement; Jonathan is hardly in a position to promise him a virgin with every engagement, even were he in this fictional establishment offering boys to the wealthy and bored. Still, he likes that incoherence. He twists his finger, crooking it and dragging the pad over Jonathan's prostate, holding in a smile.
"Ah!" Jonathan cries out sharply. "Oh God, so good!" He knows he should be playing the whore, making his client fell good, but this is too amazing and he's quickly forgetting that it's all a ruse.
Ducard can see why men seem to develop an unutterable fascination for virgins now. It's enticing to know that he'll be the first one in Jonathan. He draws back and then presses in with two fingers, twisting his hand again and wondering how Jonathan would respond to biting. To handcuffs. To a dozen different things.
This hurts more, but it's still so good, and once more Jonathan finds himself wishing to hell that Ducard would just fuck him. He's embarrassed at the little whining noises he's making in the back of his throat, and he reaches for Ducard's other hand, kissing at it and licking the long fingers.
Oh, that's brilliant. Ducard hums in appreciation, then pushes in with three fingers, rushing a bit, impatient. Impatient. That's something he doesn't allow himself very often.
Whimpering more, Jonathan opens his mouth, drawing two of Ducard's fingers in and sucking on them hard. He tries--wants--to focus his attention on the fingers or on the clinical, physiological aspects of his hole being stretched open, but it's a losing battle and he presses against Ducard's fingers hard.
"Like that, do you?" Ducard growls, pushing in more sharply now. Gods, but this boy is gorgeous, he could be a professional escort, all sex and poutiness, but no; he's easily qualified to give Ducard professional advice on how to handle every man sitting around that negotiating table tonight -- which he did, nervous tics, eye contact habits and body language included. Dr. Jonathan Crane may well be a genius -- but right now, Ducard is withdrawing his fingers, getting ready to fuck him.
Forcing himself to pay attention, Jonathan takes the condom from Ducard's hands and tears the packet open. After slowly rolling it down Ducard's cock, he bites his lower lip and looks up at Ducard through his eyelashes. "Fuck me, please?" he murmurs, knowing this kind of pose would never really work on this man.
Right now, Ducard couldn't swear to that, though. He can't recall ever having been presented with anything more tempting -- and that's a lot of years of recollection.
"Yes," he breathes, angling down and pressing in, biting back a groan at the incredible heat slowly engulfing him. "Jonathan. Yes."
Moaning, Jonathan struggles not to pull back, not to insist that this stop right now because it really hurts. He tempers his moaning, hoping like it sounds as if he's enjoying this. Oh God it hurts...fuck I had no idea it was going to hurt this much.
Ducard grits his teeth against the amazing tightness, bracing himself with his palms on the bed as he presses in, and then he's there, buried. He stops for an instant, watching Jonathan writhe like a professional under him, and realizes this is probably going to be worth an extra stipend. He is a whore, he thinks with some amusement, wondering if Jonathan would find it nearly so funny.
When he starts to thrust again, it's with shallow, easy movements, keeping himself deep enough to nudge that place inside Jonathan with every stroke.
Although Jonathan knows all about sex intellectually, it's still a surprise when it starts to feel good, largely because it hasn't stopped hurting. But this is a pain that he's never felt before and, anyway, the pleasure is quickly out pacing the discomfort. "Please," he moans, moving hesitantly against Ducard.
Leaning close, Ducard whispers, "I like that." That please sounds so good coming from Jonathan, almost decadent.
Jonathan more than likes it, sometime later on he will realize that it was in this moment that he understood why people do such insane things to feel this feeling. Now all he knows is that he needs to feel it and more of it. "Please," he moans. "Oh God, please more!"
"More?" Ducard pushes up, tucking his knees closer to Jonathan's arse and giving a hard, sharp thrust before quickly drawing back to do it again. "Like that?"
"Yes," Jonathan says, sounding surprised. "Oh God yes," he presses up against Ducard, his hands going to the man's hips where they cling tightly.
Ducard likes that, too, Jonathan's need to hang on, and it stabilizes them a bit as Ducard finds a rhythm. "Good," he breathes, then groans as the angle catches just right.
Unable to do anything but gasp for breath, Jonathan clings to Ducard tightly. He guessed my role better than I thought: I'm a whore. The problem with that sudden realization is that it makes him feel humiliated, which in turn, somehow, makes this even better.
Gritting his teeth, Ducard hisses air in and out between them, lengthening his thrusts just enough to get a bit more leverage. Jonathan is beautiful like this, unfettered, nothing like the controlled, expert persona he projects to the world, to the stronghold, to Gotham City. Ducard stares at Jonathan, wishing to imprint this moment on his memory.
Any thought he might have about why he was right to be afraid of this vanish as Jonathan gets wound up tighter and tighter. "Please," he's soon moaning over and over. "Pleasepleaseplease..."
"That's right, Jonathan," Ducard grits out, bracing himself on one forearm and reaches between them with the other hand, giving Jonathan's erection a sharp squeeze before stroking him off quickly. "Come for me."
With a loud shout, Jonathan obeys, knowing that it's as much Ducard's command that sets him off as it is the hand on his cock or Ducard's cock inside him. Not that it matters as he digs his fingers into Ducard's arms and wonders if he'll ever be able to breath again.
Ducard isn't far behind. His own orgasm comes with a gritted cry, and it leaves him breathless, too, and a bit gratified to see Jonathan in the same state.
Bending his head, he gives Jonathan a brief kiss before easing back carefully, settling next to him with a gruff sigh.
It takes a moment for Jonathan to remember that he's playing the part of a whore. All too well, he thinks, still feeling that odd thrill of shame. My next session is going to be interesting.
Sitting up, he smiles at Ducard. "I hope you were pleased, Sir," he says before getting off the bed and padding into the bathroom. He returns with a warm damp towel and deals with the condom and the clean up before sitting on the bed. "May I get you a drink?"
Giving Jonathan a dry look, Ducard wipes off a bit and rolls the towel up. "That would be fine. Be comfortable; you may consider yourself...off-duty for the rest of the evening." He cocks half a smile. "Especially considering the fact that the team of sweepers I sent in removed the surveillance."
"You...." Jonathan stops and looks at Ducard with narrowed eyes. "And was there a point to this whole exercise?" he asks. "Or did you just want a good hard fuck and were too cheap to get yourself a real whore?"
Ducard's eyes narrow as well; he stands, tugging on his briefs and going to the bar to pour himself a scotch. "Do you honestly presume that I would do anything for reasons so petty?" He turns his head to glower at Jonathan. "I had to be certain you would do anything to maintain a charade."
"Oh did you?" Jonathan says, not sure why he's baiting a man who can kill him with a single blow. "And just why did you need to know that, Monsieur Ducard?"
Swiftly and silently, Ducard advances on the young Dr. Crane to wrap a hand around his throat and give a threatening squeeze.
"Because," he murmurs softly, voice utterly cool, "you are of no use to me otherwise."
Jonathan's mind kicks into overdrive, one part of it coolly noting that fear is different when you're naked and still somewhat aroused. "I wasn't aware that you expected your researchers to maintain charades." And this is pure foolishness; with the kind of research Jonathan does, charades are inevitable.
"There is always the potential for that need," Ducard replies calmly, dropping his hand. "And you are working on some very critical and potentially...sticky material for me."
"Very well," Jonathan says. "This was a...rather revealing encounter. You aren't the only one who learned something." Ignoring the fact that he's naked, he moves to the mini bar and mixes a vodka tonic.
"Oh, really?" Ducard sets his scotch down and goes to his hanging bag to retrieve his robe. "What is it you think you've learned?"
"Several things about myself that are both obvious and of no concern to you, and the fact that you have a certain callous disregard for the people you employ."
"Everything is of concern to me, and if the 'obvious' issue is a physical attraction, I should think that would be the least of your worries. I've made it abundantly clear that it's returned. And this was absolutely nothing like 'callous disregard.' If I'd allowed you to be harmed, now that would be different."
"If I hadn't wanted it, would you have gone through with it anyway?" Jonathan asks, keeping to the safer topic. It's interesting; he'd have not thought that Ducard was the kind of man to justify his actions.
Ducard gives Jonathan a look that is both affronted and disgusted; he doesn't even gratify that with a response, only belts his robe and takes up his scotch again.
Shrugging, Jonathan sips at his drink. "And now that we've taken each other's measure?" he asks. "What next?"
Watching Jonathan carefully, Ducard considers. "What next." He tilts his head. "You continue to work on the projects I've assigned you. I continue to fund your research. And if it suits us at the time and place, whenever and wherever that happens to be, perhaps more."
"I see," Jonathan says. He thinks it over for a moment, while it is disturbing that Ducard affects him as much as he does, he thinks he can live with this arrangement. "Very well, Monsieur Ducard," he says, letting his body move into a relaxed and rather blatantly sexual stance. "Shall we order in tonight?"
-end-