Control Issues (Kink Meme)
Title: Control Issues
Rating: (very) NC-17
Pairing: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Summary: Batman needs something from Gordon and won't take no for an answer.
Double post!
My contribution to the Batman Kink Meme... I think all the sexual tension in 'To Serve and Protect' must have been getting to me, because I felt like I needed to have mercy on them and just let them get to it already!
Warnings for some heavy kink.
It all started, he thought, because he couldn’t sit behind a desk like a good little Commissioner.
He’d taken a call to a Batman sighting, not three days after declaring him a wanted man, and he had no one to blame but himself for his carelessness on entering the scene. Still, he was glad that he knew what the rest of the world didn’t; that the Batman was a decent man, his reputation unearned and built on lies.
Although it didn’t feel like it, held against a wall with one heavy forearm locked against his chest, and his gun dismantled on the ground near his feet.
And it certainly hadn’t felt like it when the Bat had kissed him moments after accosting him, mouth hard and unyielding, unresponsive to Gordon’s attempts to free himself. The worst part was that after a few seconds under that strength, held still and controlled, he didn’t even want to free himself. Which made it all the more important that he do so.
"Stop fighting me." The Batman’s voice was ragged, just this edge of wild; Gordon realized that the man was at his limit, reacting on instinct. What could have driven him to this, he didn’t know. But that voice set his nerves on edge, lust spiking sharply between them. There had always been this dimension to their partnership, this mass of feeling, but there was an unspoken agreement to let it lie, not to let it complicate things. Only, now the Batman seemed about to break that, out of desperation or sheer perversity.
"I don’t think we-" he began, "I don’t know-"
Batman hiked him up, his shoulders pressed hard against the wall so he had no choice but to wrap his legs around the mans waist or tumble to the floor.
"Don’t think," Batman growled, and pinned both his hands above his head, drawing them together so he could hold them tight in one gauntlet. Gordon felt fear and adrenaline and want zing through him. His cock was so hard it hurt.
"In fact…" Batman muttered to himself, and there was a distinct click. Gordon heaved up but it was too late. Cuffs encircled his wrists, adhered to the wall by he didn’t know what. He fought it, panic threading through him, but there was no escape. He was only hurting himself and subsided in a moment, realizing he’d been clinging all the harder to Batman with his legs, completely unbalanced.
"Don’t struggle," Batman breathed, leaning in to lick a burning wet stripe up Gordon’s neck, biting down hard at the shoulder. Gordon gasped, tried to order himself to move away, but his body betrayed him, rubbing itself wantonly against the dark knight’s armor.
"I need this," the Bat continued, taking off his gloves so only hot, callused hands remained, working them swiftly inside the other mans shirt. He rubbed his thumbs in heavy swirls around Gordon’s nipples and the Commissioner writhed, feeling them peak as they were pinched roughly, each tug jolting straight to his weeping cock.
"What about what I need?" He snarled, wrists beginning to bruise, and the pain was just another aspect of this crazy encounter. He was ashamed to realize the restraint was turning him on as much as the rough handling. His nipples felt like they were on fire, and each brush of a thumb over them was like kindling.
"You need me," Batman informed him, and one pale hand slipped down his chest while the other continued to torment him, unbuckled his pants and gripped him hard. Gordon shouted something - he didn’t know what - and convulsed, riding the edge already. But the Batman would have none of it, grasping him in a merciless grip, and Gordon struggled hard, not to get away, to get closer.
"Please," he gasped, writhing. "I was there, right there-"
"You’ll come when I let you, not before," Batman growled, and Gordon felt his cock leap again, reaching weakly for orgasm, but it wasn’t to be. He fell back panting, frustrated and harder than even, swollen and sensitive. A palm slid over the head and he jerked hard, so powerful it was almost painful. Armor-clad thighs pinned him hard to the wall, spreading him wide, and both hands were on him now, his nipples aching in the cold air.
One rough palm cupped his balls below and rolled them, not gently, while the other fluttered up and down the shaft, fingers gliding over the turgid head. Gordon felt his whole body snap, hypersensitive after being denied so soon, and he began to plead, babbling endlessly into the air, for orgasm, for release, for a moment to collect himself, but he was granted nothing.
After a moment the hand on his balls moved further back to cup his ass, supporting him as he thrust, desperate, into the other. Then, on the rush of one thrust, hips canted and spread wide, a single dry digit pierced him and he shouted. He would have come if not for the hand that dropped down to press hard against the base, holding it off. He swore, struggling until he could feel one wrist begin to bleed, reaching for friction that just wasn’t there.
"Damn you," he writhed, humping uselessly at the air, "let me come, I want-"
"What you want doesn’t matter." One angry snarl and a second finger entered him. There was pain, discomfort, but it all seemed to fan the flames higher. Gordon panted, letting them work into him, wondering how he’d possibly take three. His erection flagged a little at the thought and the Batman growled in discontent, gripping him hard and brushing a thumb in a maddening, repetitive rhythm just beneath the head. Gordon banged his head back against the wall, hoping for something to distract him, but that hand was unhinging him, endless stimulation without sight of release.
The fingers left him and he felt a dreadful moment of emptiness, then they were back, slicked up with something, three of them thrusting hard and he was locked immobile, quivering. As they thrust past the knuckle an ache struck him, but all thought of that was forgotten as the fingers touched something inside him that made him scream.
Prostate, he thought dimly, wracked by heat. God.
The Batman drove him hard, each motion of those fingers touching the gland. The hand that had been torturing him had dropped to stave off orgasm; looking down he could see himself standing out obscenely from his opened trousers, purple and wet. The sight of the hand bracketing him made him throb helplessly.
"Please," he begged, again and again. "Pleasepleaseplease-"
His shoulders were ground into the wall and his hips lifted at an impossible angle - there was a moment when he thought for sure he’d fall if not for the cuffs - then the Batman slid inside him, hard and slick and huge. Gordon struggled wildly, fighting it; he wasn’t ready, he hadn’t really meant it, that was a cock inside him and he didn’t want it, no matter how he’d pleaded-
Then the Bat began to move and Gordon panted hard, feeling himself flex and burn, his cock jerking obscenely, desperate for any kind of stimulation.
"God!" He wheezed, heels pressing against the mans ass as though to drive him faster. It hurt. Batman was definitely bigger than three fingers, but it was incredible at the same time and part of Gordon was afraid at how very much he needed this man to own him this way, how he anticipated each thrust and felt bereft at each withdrawal. But most of him was busy being insanely turned on.
Each time the cock slid into him fully one of them grunted, he wasn’t sure which, and as the rhythm got more erratic the thought of the Bat coming inside him, the heat and strength of him, made Gordon thrust his hips erratically, trying to bring it on. But just when it seemed the Bat might be reaching his limit, he stopped, buried as deep as he could be inside Gordon, still and unmoving. They were both panting ferociously, completely lost.
"What," Gordon started, "what are you-"
Two fingers slid inside him. He leapt, as high as the cuffs would let him, but the Batman held him down, unyielding, and slid in another. Gordon could feel himself stretch to his limit and thought he might be going out of his mind. The thumb braced against his ass, the fingers thrusting through them both and Gordon felt himself begin to come, completely and utterly overwhelmed. There was no hand to stop him this time and he reared up, bucking wildly. The Bat began to move again, fingers and cock synched, and the other hand jerked him off as his whole body began to convulse, contracting painfully on the bulk inside him, the long denial making each spurt feel long and drawn out. He shot seven times, each one hard and surreal, the hand milking him to the point of pain, and the Batman came at last. Latent bursts of heat made Gordon curl his toes, wanting to pull the man closer and unable to do so.
His muscles felt like jelly, and from the way Batman slumped against him, he was no better. He remained inside until he softened completely, then pulled out, leaving the fingers, stroking slowly against the swollen, hot entrance. Gordon squeaked - very unmanly - when the movements of those fingers prolonged the aftershocks. They pushed in deep, sliding on the warmth of lubricant and more, and hovered just around the prostate, almost threatening. Gordon’s whole awareness settled there, feeling the slide of Batman’s (Batman’s!) semen slip from him, the burn of used muscles, the unbelievable touch of those fingers looming.
"Enough," he gasped, arching up when they moved just slightly closer, his whole body clamping down in denial. "I can’t, ugh, too much, please-"
They touched him once; just enough to get a half-wail out of him, then slid out, slowly, each centimeter imprinted in Gordon’s brain. When he was released he heaved in huge gulps of air, his head swirling, hot and sweaty all over. The Batman didn’t move, allowing him to recover pressed against him. The sight of his semen splashed all over the suit made Gordon’s cock flex weakly, valiantly trying to show its interest. Hands smoothed over him, petting him, calming and possessive at the same time. They slid up his shoulders, elbows and forearms to rest, like reminders, against his cuffed wrists. Gordon gripped them in return with his fingers, weak and undone.
He had no idea what was going to happen, what could come of this, but the Batman had consumed him today, and Gordon had welcomed every minute of it. Craved it. Begged for it. And he wasn’t likely to forget it. Ever.
He was still thinking about it, held tenderly and with such gentleness, when he let his eyes slip closed and fell quietly and simply into sleep.
Rating: (very) NC-17
Pairing: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Summary: Batman needs something from Gordon and won't take no for an answer.
Double post!
My contribution to the Batman Kink Meme... I think all the sexual tension in 'To Serve and Protect' must have been getting to me, because I felt like I needed to have mercy on them and just let them get to it already!
Warnings for some heavy kink.
It all started, he thought, because he couldn’t sit behind a desk like a good little Commissioner.
He’d taken a call to a Batman sighting, not three days after declaring him a wanted man, and he had no one to blame but himself for his carelessness on entering the scene. Still, he was glad that he knew what the rest of the world didn’t; that the Batman was a decent man, his reputation unearned and built on lies.
Although it didn’t feel like it, held against a wall with one heavy forearm locked against his chest, and his gun dismantled on the ground near his feet.
And it certainly hadn’t felt like it when the Bat had kissed him moments after accosting him, mouth hard and unyielding, unresponsive to Gordon’s attempts to free himself. The worst part was that after a few seconds under that strength, held still and controlled, he didn’t even want to free himself. Which made it all the more important that he do so.
"Stop fighting me." The Batman’s voice was ragged, just this edge of wild; Gordon realized that the man was at his limit, reacting on instinct. What could have driven him to this, he didn’t know. But that voice set his nerves on edge, lust spiking sharply between them. There had always been this dimension to their partnership, this mass of feeling, but there was an unspoken agreement to let it lie, not to let it complicate things. Only, now the Batman seemed about to break that, out of desperation or sheer perversity.
"I don’t think we-" he began, "I don’t know-"
Batman hiked him up, his shoulders pressed hard against the wall so he had no choice but to wrap his legs around the mans waist or tumble to the floor.
"Don’t think," Batman growled, and pinned both his hands above his head, drawing them together so he could hold them tight in one gauntlet. Gordon felt fear and adrenaline and want zing through him. His cock was so hard it hurt.
"In fact…" Batman muttered to himself, and there was a distinct click. Gordon heaved up but it was too late. Cuffs encircled his wrists, adhered to the wall by he didn’t know what. He fought it, panic threading through him, but there was no escape. He was only hurting himself and subsided in a moment, realizing he’d been clinging all the harder to Batman with his legs, completely unbalanced.
"Don’t struggle," Batman breathed, leaning in to lick a burning wet stripe up Gordon’s neck, biting down hard at the shoulder. Gordon gasped, tried to order himself to move away, but his body betrayed him, rubbing itself wantonly against the dark knight’s armor.
"I need this," the Bat continued, taking off his gloves so only hot, callused hands remained, working them swiftly inside the other mans shirt. He rubbed his thumbs in heavy swirls around Gordon’s nipples and the Commissioner writhed, feeling them peak as they were pinched roughly, each tug jolting straight to his weeping cock.
"What about what I need?" He snarled, wrists beginning to bruise, and the pain was just another aspect of this crazy encounter. He was ashamed to realize the restraint was turning him on as much as the rough handling. His nipples felt like they were on fire, and each brush of a thumb over them was like kindling.
"You need me," Batman informed him, and one pale hand slipped down his chest while the other continued to torment him, unbuckled his pants and gripped him hard. Gordon shouted something - he didn’t know what - and convulsed, riding the edge already. But the Batman would have none of it, grasping him in a merciless grip, and Gordon struggled hard, not to get away, to get closer.
"Please," he gasped, writhing. "I was there, right there-"
"You’ll come when I let you, not before," Batman growled, and Gordon felt his cock leap again, reaching weakly for orgasm, but it wasn’t to be. He fell back panting, frustrated and harder than even, swollen and sensitive. A palm slid over the head and he jerked hard, so powerful it was almost painful. Armor-clad thighs pinned him hard to the wall, spreading him wide, and both hands were on him now, his nipples aching in the cold air.
One rough palm cupped his balls below and rolled them, not gently, while the other fluttered up and down the shaft, fingers gliding over the turgid head. Gordon felt his whole body snap, hypersensitive after being denied so soon, and he began to plead, babbling endlessly into the air, for orgasm, for release, for a moment to collect himself, but he was granted nothing.
After a moment the hand on his balls moved further back to cup his ass, supporting him as he thrust, desperate, into the other. Then, on the rush of one thrust, hips canted and spread wide, a single dry digit pierced him and he shouted. He would have come if not for the hand that dropped down to press hard against the base, holding it off. He swore, struggling until he could feel one wrist begin to bleed, reaching for friction that just wasn’t there.
"Damn you," he writhed, humping uselessly at the air, "let me come, I want-"
"What you want doesn’t matter." One angry snarl and a second finger entered him. There was pain, discomfort, but it all seemed to fan the flames higher. Gordon panted, letting them work into him, wondering how he’d possibly take three. His erection flagged a little at the thought and the Batman growled in discontent, gripping him hard and brushing a thumb in a maddening, repetitive rhythm just beneath the head. Gordon banged his head back against the wall, hoping for something to distract him, but that hand was unhinging him, endless stimulation without sight of release.
The fingers left him and he felt a dreadful moment of emptiness, then they were back, slicked up with something, three of them thrusting hard and he was locked immobile, quivering. As they thrust past the knuckle an ache struck him, but all thought of that was forgotten as the fingers touched something inside him that made him scream.
Prostate, he thought dimly, wracked by heat. God.
The Batman drove him hard, each motion of those fingers touching the gland. The hand that had been torturing him had dropped to stave off orgasm; looking down he could see himself standing out obscenely from his opened trousers, purple and wet. The sight of the hand bracketing him made him throb helplessly.
"Please," he begged, again and again. "Pleasepleaseplease-"
His shoulders were ground into the wall and his hips lifted at an impossible angle - there was a moment when he thought for sure he’d fall if not for the cuffs - then the Batman slid inside him, hard and slick and huge. Gordon struggled wildly, fighting it; he wasn’t ready, he hadn’t really meant it, that was a cock inside him and he didn’t want it, no matter how he’d pleaded-
Then the Bat began to move and Gordon panted hard, feeling himself flex and burn, his cock jerking obscenely, desperate for any kind of stimulation.
"God!" He wheezed, heels pressing against the mans ass as though to drive him faster. It hurt. Batman was definitely bigger than three fingers, but it was incredible at the same time and part of Gordon was afraid at how very much he needed this man to own him this way, how he anticipated each thrust and felt bereft at each withdrawal. But most of him was busy being insanely turned on.
Each time the cock slid into him fully one of them grunted, he wasn’t sure which, and as the rhythm got more erratic the thought of the Bat coming inside him, the heat and strength of him, made Gordon thrust his hips erratically, trying to bring it on. But just when it seemed the Bat might be reaching his limit, he stopped, buried as deep as he could be inside Gordon, still and unmoving. They were both panting ferociously, completely lost.
"What," Gordon started, "what are you-"
Two fingers slid inside him. He leapt, as high as the cuffs would let him, but the Batman held him down, unyielding, and slid in another. Gordon could feel himself stretch to his limit and thought he might be going out of his mind. The thumb braced against his ass, the fingers thrusting through them both and Gordon felt himself begin to come, completely and utterly overwhelmed. There was no hand to stop him this time and he reared up, bucking wildly. The Bat began to move again, fingers and cock synched, and the other hand jerked him off as his whole body began to convulse, contracting painfully on the bulk inside him, the long denial making each spurt feel long and drawn out. He shot seven times, each one hard and surreal, the hand milking him to the point of pain, and the Batman came at last. Latent bursts of heat made Gordon curl his toes, wanting to pull the man closer and unable to do so.
His muscles felt like jelly, and from the way Batman slumped against him, he was no better. He remained inside until he softened completely, then pulled out, leaving the fingers, stroking slowly against the swollen, hot entrance. Gordon squeaked - very unmanly - when the movements of those fingers prolonged the aftershocks. They pushed in deep, sliding on the warmth of lubricant and more, and hovered just around the prostate, almost threatening. Gordon’s whole awareness settled there, feeling the slide of Batman’s (Batman’s!) semen slip from him, the burn of used muscles, the unbelievable touch of those fingers looming.
"Enough," he gasped, arching up when they moved just slightly closer, his whole body clamping down in denial. "I can’t, ugh, too much, please-"
They touched him once; just enough to get a half-wail out of him, then slid out, slowly, each centimeter imprinted in Gordon’s brain. When he was released he heaved in huge gulps of air, his head swirling, hot and sweaty all over. The Batman didn’t move, allowing him to recover pressed against him. The sight of his semen splashed all over the suit made Gordon’s cock flex weakly, valiantly trying to show its interest. Hands smoothed over him, petting him, calming and possessive at the same time. They slid up his shoulders, elbows and forearms to rest, like reminders, against his cuffed wrists. Gordon gripped them in return with his fingers, weak and undone.
He had no idea what was going to happen, what could come of this, but the Batman had consumed him today, and Gordon had welcomed every minute of it. Craved it. Begged for it. And he wasn’t likely to forget it. Ever.
He was still thinking about it, held tenderly and with such gentleness, when he let his eyes slip closed and fell quietly and simply into sleep.