[ Bruce is stubborn— helpful with Batman, less helpful in his personal life (what personal life?), and a tangled knot of both in bed. He's wrapped up in raw sexual pleasure, but he's wrapped up in focusing on Barry, too. Flickering like human-form lightning, vibrating, and the pure pornographic way he responds otherwise, is enough to make him almost lose it and come just like that, even before Barry's hands are framing his face. But that deep stubbornness digs its heels in without his say-so, cutting off involuntary functions. It feels like a strange gut-punch, edging himself for literally no reason.

Sorta hot, at least, but it does mean that he blinks down at Barry for a moment, dizzy. Hey, don't bother training yourself to control your own heartbeat, while you're training for dick. Does weird things to your neural pathways.

He returns those wet kisses, and then groans, letting his head drop forward. A rough exhale, mutter of fuck.

It's all just really good, is the thing. ]

So you're ready any time I want to push you over a counter and fuck you. [ He's still rocking into him, just slower. Still so fucking hard. ] Do you want me to come like this? Inside you? Get you all wet?