[ His cock pulses in Barry's mouth, long seconds that shatter him, unspool something tense he didn't know was so wound; for a moment, there's nothing but the blank ecstasy of it. Oblivion is not the only (or first) reason Bruce indulges in the kind of sex life he does - usually - but there is something to be said for it. Every string cut for a pinprick of time.
Reality reshapes. Bruce's breathing is ragged, but he doesn't force it to even out any quicker than naturally. Lets himself have it. Lets Barry have the honesty of his reaction. (Fleeting as it may be. His brain doesn't go offline for long.)
Speaking of.
Bruce looks at Barry, with his reddened mouth and dishevelled hair, sitting there between his knees, his cock still obscenely out, taking its sweet time to bother going soft. Yes, he thinks. Agrees silently. It was hot. And still is. Bruce leans down, curls over, his hands still on the younger man. He kisses him hard and deep, fucking his mouth with his tongue, eating the taste of himself out of him, sucking at his tongue and lips and scraping teeth along his jaw. Slow and searing and pointed. Something in the way he clutches at him his proprietary, as if pinning in him place.
His voice is a low rumble when he speaks, barely pulling away, his mouth brushing against his skin. ] Come here.
[ Bruce pulls at him, gracefully encouraging gracelessness. ]
no subject
Reality reshapes. Bruce's breathing is ragged, but he doesn't force it to even out any quicker than naturally. Lets himself have it. Lets Barry have the honesty of his reaction. (Fleeting as it may be. His brain doesn't go offline for long.)
Speaking of.
Bruce looks at Barry, with his reddened mouth and dishevelled hair, sitting there between his knees, his cock still obscenely out, taking its sweet time to bother going soft. Yes, he thinks. Agrees silently. It was hot. And still is. Bruce leans down, curls over, his hands still on the younger man. He kisses him hard and deep, fucking his mouth with his tongue, eating the taste of himself out of him, sucking at his tongue and lips and scraping teeth along his jaw. Slow and searing and pointed. Something in the way he clutches at him his proprietary, as if pinning in him place.
His voice is a low rumble when he speaks, barely pulling away, his mouth brushing against his skin. ] Come here.
[ Bruce pulls at him, gracefully encouraging gracelessness. ]