[ People don't act rationally around the word billionaire, sometimes. It isn't reflective of their normal character. Bruce wouldn't hold anything against Barry. He wouldn't think badly of him; he doesn't think badly of anyone who tries to get money out of him, even when it's done maliciously. The world isn't fair. No matter how many times he nearly bankrupts himself, he can regain it virtually overnight. He can bleed money into charities, and politicians just use his example as a reason not to change taxes or adjust social programs for the better. See? Trickle-down works.
What's he supposed to do? Stop?
I need you, Barry says, and something twists in his stomach. Just a little. He'd never think of Barry in such insulting terms (and not only because he doesn't think that word is an insult).
It would just, you know, hurt his feelings real bad. Pathetic as that truth is. He'd give Barry anything - would a week ago, would without any of this. A part of his brain is already calculating how many cases and how far back an investigation would have to go, to get to the root of potential mishandling. What histories do each of the police involved have? What did the DA's office look like at the time? What evidence remains, how has it been evaluated over the years? What immediate and long-term ripples have been caused?
It's Bruce's turn to shift his hands, holding Barry's face, looking at him intently. ]
Anything you need, or want, at any time, [ he tells him gravely. ] You don't have to give or do anything. You don't even have to be nice to me about it. Do you understand?
[ He likes that the younger man has clarified. But still. ]
[ There was a time where Bruce needed him — needed The Flash — and all that he could do. Barry had willingly followed him, given him what he wanted, run back in time to bring him back to life. He has nothing but respect and loyalty to this man who he thinks sometimes doesn't believe he deserves it, thinks that whatever demons he carries with him tell him such a thing and then some. Now it's Barry's turn to need him. But it's not entirely for the case of his father. It's something that runs a little deeper, something Victor warned him as being risky. For Barry, he lives on those risks, in a way. He's the shining hope that breaks through them, gives others another chance. Is one that, despite his own grievances and weights he carries on his shoulders, he runs towards the future now and he'd like Bruce to be there in whatever future he manages to shape for himself.
For a long moment, he's silent when Bruce says to him what he does and he can feel a sort of urgency laced within those words that maybe Bruce doesn't realize is there. Needing him to understand that, regardless of all of... this.
Lips part as if to speak but... he smiles instead. Soft. A nod given to show that he hears him, that he understands, he turns his face into one of those hands and kisses softly at a wet palm, letting it linger there for a few seconds. ]
I think you could use a bit of nice in your life.
[ The pad of his thumb traces over a scar Bruce wears, running along the entirety of it before he leans in to bump his nose against the other man's, hand coming up to grip at his neck again. ]
I ran back so I could see you again. [ His words are a quiet whisper so close to Bruce's lips there, just barely touching. ] There's very little I wouldn't do for you.
[ Looking to kiss him, he stops then, pulling back just enough to raise a brow to the man. ]
By the way — if I were looking to butter you up and get something out of you, pretty sure it would be the batmobile. Just saying.
[ You silly old man. ]
Edited (when u get disconnected before the rest of the tag goes through ) 2021-08-11 01:40 (UTC)
[ Barry leans in, and Bruce lets his hands move down, sliding around him to hold him there. Listening intently still. It's obvious that he wants him - not in a vulgar way (though that too lbr), but truly, genuinely, he wants him to be here and be himself, feel no compulsion or desperation. Barry deserves better from the world than to feel cornered. Bruce doesn't deserve much. Not even niceness, even the way Barry offers it up like that.
But he can like it. Sometimes.
He smiles the faintest bit, about the car. Remains quiet for a while. Someone's fingertips are going to be nearly pruned.
Finally he moves, leaning in enough to kiss him. Slow and sensual, hands splayed on his back, cradling him and pulling him flush against him. ]
I'm not convinced you know how to drive, [ Bruce murmurs against his mouth. ]
[ At first, there's a playful roll of his eyes since, c'mon dude. You know he's pretty ok with driving stick. But that roll of his eyes turns into a brow being raised as he lingers there close against Bruce and that mouth on his. Even with the splashing of water around them, he can hear just fine. ]
Pretty sure I know how to drive you crazy with my mouth on your cock.
[ Oh the grin he wears in saying that before soft laughter bubbles from those lips of his and he leans up to kiss at the other man's temple, fingers stroking down the side of his neck. This is nice. All of this is... nice. Some semblance of normal amidst their respective chaos they have within their lives.
Ducking his head, he noses at Bruce's neck, lips pressing a couple warm open-mouthed kisses there before he hums a little to himself and lets hands brush over the expanse of the other man's back. Just wanting to feel him. Keep him close like this. Solidify him and remind himself that he's real. That he's here. That he's not alone. On both their parts. ]
If you take me to bed, I'm gonna keep touching you, ok? Coming to find I like touching you.
[ Just kidding, he takes it all back, kicking Barry out for the night—
No. Bruce does lean away for a second, but he's clearly teasing, and returns to Barry's hold. No escaping.
Clearly he's alright with that notion. That they haven't gotten up to anything in here is probably down, simply, to that near heart attack Barry gave him. So: more making out, more soap, and fortunately there's enough room to get that done in here without bonking anyone's elbows into tile. A wide expanse of shower cubicle, and expensive enough stone to prevent slipping without the need for little rubber flowers on the floor. (Even the drain is neatly designed to not be such an obvious dent. Aesthetic.)
Bruce is fine. Probably. Barry skitters around from topic to topic, too quick for ordinary human thought processes, on top of what Bruce figures is probably a natural inclination towards being sort of awkward. And that's something he accepts without prejudice; some things he's just weird about.
He takes to kissing the other man in random spots across his neck, shoulders, and collarbones, wet and warm in the way he does while letting arms encircle the other man around his waist, firm and content in the way he keeps him nice and close. He loves the feel of the water relaxing his muscles and the lips and touches that brush over his own wet skin as they stay there a little longer in the show. If the point of all of this was to actually clean themselves it's... partly achieved? He certainly doesn't feel as flushed and sweaty as he had been back on Bruce's couch, so. There's that accomplishment.
As much as he loves the warmth of the water around him, he does have other plans than to become a California Raisin. Plans which involve wrapping himself up in the luxury of a big-big bed and sinking into sheets and skin and arms maybe. For once.
Pressing a wet kiss to the other man's peck, he looks up to them as he brushes a hand over his face, chasing away the water. ]
Think I'm good. Kinda got myself excited for your bed and sinking into it.
[ Because it's sure to be something bigger and nicer than anything he's ever had before. Hands brushing over Bruce's arms, he hums a little, a smile on his lips as he looks up to him again. ]
[ Bruce murmurs his agreement, following which is a series of things such as turning the water off, obtaining towels, offering robes, making sure to bring Barry's clothes with them, and so on. We'll skip the tedious description of bleak stairwells for the tedious description of the house on the surface:
Some hours ago by now, Barry asked about his bedroom, and Bruce said he missed it. Now it's easier to see how - the entirety of the lake house is one open space with a few dividers, barring a rectangle in the center that hides the small original bathroom and various utility hookups. When they'd arrived after the diner, they'd walked along the side of the house with the kitchen, facing the woods that lead to the manor. Simply turning the other way at the elevator doors lands them at the other side, facing the lake.
It's grey out, nearing the stage of turning gold. Very early morning, and the slowly churning water and shapes of distant trees are either eerie or beautiful, depending on your point of view. Bruce's bed is the main feature, backed up against the aforementioned rectangle, a 'wall' that serves as a headboard. Above his bed is a large photograph of what might be a flower, or a contorted person; hard to tell in the dark. It's quite sexual, either way, contrasting sharply with the modern restraint of everything else.
[ Sexual in the dark? Seems fitting for Bruce Wayne or, even The Batman in a certain way. Maybe that's just Barry. Regardless, he looks the room over with curious, bright eyes, standing there in his nice robe with his pile of clothes in his hands before he zips away from Bruce within the blink of an eye and is suddenly nosediving into the center of the large bed as if it were a ball pit.
Clothes are left behind on the floor, Barry still in his robe as he starfishes himself out there on the large, white bed, before he huffs a laugh to himself at how not bouncy or fluffy it is — which kinda almost sorta makes sense for Bruce — before he comes to turn on his side, fingers carding through his damp strands of hair that stick a little to his forehead and face.
He's not entirely sure what he'd expected in terms of Bruce's private quarters. The expansive windows are certainly something any voyeur would take pleasure in... if they could walk on water or had a high tech scope on their lens from the bushes out there. Creepy, but. You know. But the way it almost feels as if they're floating on water is serene if even in an eerie sort of way and yet, it blends beautifully beautiful with how Bruce himself can come off sometimes.
Gaze lingering on the photograph overhead, when the offer for pj's comes up, he looks over to Bruce then, cheek pressing against his shoulder. A shake of his head, he slowly wears a playful grin on his lips, shifting to lay there on his side a little better, hand pulling back the corner of the sheets beside him. ]
But I won't say no to you.
[ Sometimes, he can wear that confidence of his a little boldly and not end up stumbling over his own words or thoughts. ]
[ Barry's enthusiasm for everything he's interested in really is charming. Bruce finds himself put at ease by it, watching him gleefully wriggle over his bed. (Sorry it isn't squishier. Back injuries, rip.)
Charming and, in this case, also a turn-on.
Bruce sits at the edge of the bed and shrugs his robe off, unconcerned with the windows. No one's back here. It's isolated, he owns the land several square miles in either direction, and has constant monitoring of the grounds and airspace. A funny psychological trick; still alone, confined, despite the vast openness. He runs a hand up Barry's side to his chest, petting over him before leaning in and giving him a kiss.
Nothing to do now but prowl closer, pull sheets back, get tangled up. Mouth on his. ]
[ The moment Bruce shrugs his robe off, Barry's eyes are all over him, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to bite back the pleased little sound he makes. The very same one he lets slip from his lips a little louder then when that mouth is on his and they're kissing again. Just like they have been for most of the night, now bleeding into early morning from the looks and sounds of it.
His enthusiasm spills into the kiss he's tangled up in, hand grasping the back of the other man's neck and pulling him in closer as he drops back against the bed, the front of his robe falling open as he does. His lips are just as eager as his touches as he deepens their kiss with featherlight breaths, and he goes so far as to sharply nip at Bruce's bottom lip, dragging a leg up along his side as he grins with a pleased little hum against that mouth. ]
Are you looking to get me off three times in one night? Because you're getting dangerously close to that. Just saying.
[ Words he murmurs against the man's neck and chest as he presses warm open-mouthed kisses along his skin, letting fingertips brush over his arm and side. ]
[ Bruce gets over him, settles down, enjoying being able to stretch out and just kiss him, palming over his chest, pushing open that robe. ]
'Dangerously close'? [ He gets a kiss on Barry's cheekbone as he slips a hand over his shoulder, encouraging his arms out of the robe sleeves. Not letting him up to do away with it, hitching close to rock down against him, between his thighs. His physical self can be a little overwhelming, but Barry looked so pleased, and it went straight to Bruce's cock. He captures his mouth again before shifting to one side, stretching an arm out. ] Can't be missing that.
[ He fishes lube out of a bedside compartment, which is free of the depressing clutter that had plagued it for a few years. (Pill bottles, empty glasses, wine stains.) Silicone-based. You know. Friction. Speed. Just in case. He clicks it open and gets his hand wet, reaches between them to slick it cool and sticky just below Barry's navel, warming it up, teasing him, not-quite-there. ]
[ Somewhere in the chaotic spinning that is his thoughts, Barry realizes that he's about to go All The Way with Bruce and that has his heart stammering in his chest with anticipation. Not because he's shy or that he's unsure about this. He wants this. He wants Bruce and to feel him so much and has from the second they first kissed. It's that this is his first time with another man. Completely. And it's with Bruce Wayne.
His breath hitches at both the thought and the way it feels when Bruce rocks against him, eyes slipping shut and the faintest of his moans dropping from his lips before he licks them over. Before he swallows thickly.
Bruce has done this countless times, he thinks. Maybe not (always?) with men as much as women, but for Barry, he worries he might get swept up in Bruce to the point of it becoming... more. Because after all this, when the morning has fully come and no longer flirts with the night outside, he's still not sure what will happen, what any of this will mean, despite neither of them wanting to forget. Things to worry and mull about later, he tells that part of his mind, sighing in such a lovely little way as Bruce touches him in places he's only ever really touched himself. ]
Like this is ok?
[ He asks then, his voice soft. Curious. ]
I mean... you don't want me some other way? Different... position?
[ You know, if Bruce doesn't want something so vanilla. ]
[ Bruce curls his hand around Barry's cock and strokes him, just about familiar with the feel of him by now, and enjoying it. His own is thickening steadily, pressed against him. He kisses along the younger man's jaw and lower, lightly sucking at a pulse point high on his throat. ]
Mm. [ Different? Bruce gets that mark a little darker, lets his teeth graze it. ] I just want you, Barry.
[ Making that clear, first and foremost. He pauses his stroking just to hold him, squeezing gently, almost massaging his cock with his hand. Thinks about the mechanics of various things. They don't have to have penetrative sex. There's nothing less intimate about a lack of it; mutual orgasms are a hell of a thing no matter what.
Doesn't want him to be bored, though. ]
What do you prefer?
[ He hitches his hips up, just slightly, rocking against the younger man. ]
[ The careful but familiar way Bruce touches him is a treat to Barry's senses. Every little touch and brush and suck to his skin has him almost shivering beneath the other man and Barry finds that he - never mind his cock - can't seem to get enough of it.
But it's that slight rock of his hips Bruce rolls into him that really sets something within him off and the sound the younger man makes while gripping tight to an arm is needy and wanton in ways that it hasn't exactly been thus far tonight.
With a suddenly flushed face, he breathes, fingers running over the bicep he clutches tight to while he takes a moment to just enjoy that feeling, swallowing thickly, before he rocks himself up against the other man a little. Slow and teasing and curious. ]
I want you, too.
[ Words are shaky as they turn into a moan, Barry tilting his head back some as eyes fall shut and he enjoys having the weight of Bruce against him- of feeling his own cock hard and pressing at him, knowing it's because of him. ]
I want to come a third time because of you and I want you to come, too. Inside, in my mouth, on my face. Just want you to come again. Want it to be with you.
[ The sounds Barry makes are driving him just a little crazy. Bruce sinks his teeth into that place on his throat, steady pressure without sharpness, leaving a hickey. A bit teenager in the back of a theater of him, but Barry can probably regen it easy enough. Hopefully. (Or not?) He rocks more into him, then shifts his weight so that the slight change in posture allows him to rub his cock up against the younger man's, fingers loosening only just enough to press them together, hard against hard.
And what he says. Fuck. ]
Coming again won't be a problem, [ he husks against him. There is no real bat-growl in this universe, courtesy of his spooky synthesizer, but still there's something low and a bit darker-sounding about him when he gets cranked like this.
He moves his hand, leaving them pressed all together but moving lower, stroking beneath his balls, watching his reaction. ] Do you like getting yourself off like this?
[ Asking 'have you been fucked before' feels both rude and obvious, he skitters away from that. Bruce has no actual jitters about who's first time doing what; everyone's on their own schedule. ]
[ There's something about that low, husky growl Bruce has in this heated moment that has Barry turning into a mess of filthy little sounds and if this man had ever wanted him to submit to being his, he would do so in a heartbeat, without a second thought he's that turned on by him.
The way he brushes his cock against his own — how his fingers slip lower and lower until they're practically teasing him there between his legs with that question he has The Nerve to ask him right now when he's so wound up and skin flushed from the way he gets him going again, Barry loves it — needs it — so much that his stammering awkwardness is so swiftly replaced with a more confidant — a more filthy — side of him that seems to come so easy when he sinks into those touches and teasing and husky breaths Bruce gives to him so freely. When his head is full of nothing but wanting Bruce. All his dirty little thoughts just spill out of him. ]
I like thinking of you.
[ Breathing the words, hands reach back over his shoulders and he grips tight at the sheets as he squirms there beneath the man, swallow thickly, face flushed. ]
Of being bent over your desk and taken from behind... blowing you in an elevator and making sure I clan you up with my tongue... riding you in the front or backseat of your car and taking every last drop you give me... wearing a plug for you and only letting you fuck me because you're the only one I want filling me up.
[ Lips parting, he bumps his head against Bruce's and lets lips brush over his... but doesn't kiss him. Instead, he smiles, just barely kissing the top of his lip before he licks over his own, moaning there against his mouth. ]
You're the one I want filling me up.
[ No, sir. I haven't been fucked before but I have many ideas of how I would like to be. ]
Answers a few things. Also washes away any lingering reservations in a wave of arousal, and Bruce's hand stills as he takes it in. He kisses him, pushing in hard with it, scrape of teeth, tongue fucking into his mouth in a blatant mime of fucking him with something else. He keeps kissing him while he gets more lube on his fingers, and comes back to begin to press and tease at his hole. Shifting his weight enough so that there's room to do it without snapping his wrist. ]
A lot of mileage happening in your imagination, [ he says, mouth brushing against Barry's as he speaks, continuing to play with him with thick fingers. ] Wonder if you could really cover it.
[ Stamina, sure. Wearing a plug outside the bedroom is not beginner kink. But Barry probably doesn't expect to be pulled into handcuffs right now. (Or does he. There were those comments. Hours ago. A lifetime ago. I don't think we're at Dairy Queen anymore, Toto.) ]
You sound... really beautiful, Barry.
[ Unfortunately he only has sincere compliments. What a dork. Too many years (fuck, decades) putting on a fake act, everything left in between one mask or the other is strange and stilted and too-revealing in its awkward honesty. Pressing in, ghosting a kiss to the side of his mouth, as he rubs over his prostate. ]
As much as he loves the weight of Bruce against him and the tongue fucking he's been given with kisses pressed wherever Bruce so desires them to be pressed, it's the way those fingers stroke him from the inside that really get to him and the sound Barry makes for the other man is loud and unabashed and maybe even a little slutty. But it's fine, it doesn't matter. What does is the way those fingers make his body shake with pleasure, practically vibrating against both the bed and the other man as he knocks his head back and heels dig tight into the mattress.
For a moment, his mind blanks — a white landscape of nothing but trembling pleasure at the way Bruce plays with him with those fingers of his. It's only after a handful of seconds that he strings together the words Bruce has said to him and he moans, at first, in reply to them. ]
You're beautiful... [ He breathes the words through a shaky breath, turning his head to try and steal a kiss from the other man. ] ...I wanna come for you so many times.
[ Fingers of one hand come to card through Bruce's hair at the side, lips buzzing with hums against his cheek before he moans again, head falling back to the pillows. Eyes glassy, lips parted, hips rocking against that hand to feel more of those fingers. He grips at a shoulder with his other hand before he finally makes himself look to Bruce there from beneath him. ]
Do you wanna fuck me? Do you wanna see how good I am at taking you?
[ Barry's responsiveness just makes Bruce want to see more of it. He fucks him with his fingers, doing more just to pleasure him than prepare for anything, purely to watch and listen, soak up the way he shivers and moans. Barry rocks his hips up and Bruce curls his touch into it, gaze fixed on his face, memorizing exactly where, how much, how deep. ]
I do, and I will. [ A rough promise, looking at him. Bruce presses a light kiss to Barry's mouth and then shifts up a little onto his knees, a degree of extra leverage. He grabs the younger man's hip with his other hand and pulls at him, encouraging him to rock up onto his fingers more. There's an edge of an order in his low voice: ] I want you to come like this. On my fingers. Show me.
[ Pressing in more, rubbing fingertips in what he knows will be maddening. Barry's practically been vibrating against him and he's fascinated. It's so uniquely him, and surreal, and everything being beyond human experience makes sense, in his crazy fucking life—
It's also extremely hot. His own cock is hard enough to be leaking, brushing against the inside of Barry's thigh. ]
[ There's something so incredibly hot about that rough edge of an order to Bruce's voice as he fucks him with those fingers and Barry finds himself almost saying yes, sir before his mind just goes and blanks on him. The most he gets out is a weak little yes, but even that dies on the sharp gasp leaving his lips.
Barry tips his head back as another shaky gasp leaves him, eyes squeezed shut while hips rock harder against that hand. That fucking amazing hand with those fucking amazing fingers that are touching and fucking him in ways no one else ever has and Barry swears it's the hottest thing he's ever felt — that Bruce is the hottest person ever. ]
I— wanna come. I wanna come so bad. Please.
[ Heels dig hard into the mattress around the other man and Barry keeps fucking himself on those fingers as asked — as told — sharp little breaths and gasps spilling from lips more quickly as sweat rolls down the back of his neck, along the curve of his tailbone. He's close — he's really fucking close and he can't believe he's going to come from Bruce's fingers alone.
Despite his slightly lean figure, the muscles across his arms pull tight as he grips at the sheets around him, eyes still shut with head tilted back, pained little whines spilling from him at how much he loves and hates this at the same time. Lost in how good he feels — lost in how much more good he wants to feel with coming like Bruce tells him to. When he does finally come, it's with a sharp hitch of breath and a sudden trembling of his body that almost makes the bed itself vibrate. But that hitch of breath bleeds into a pleased little whine and he comes harder than he had the previous two times, thick spurts of hot cum painting across his own stomach as he shudders, as he gasps, as he nearly breaks his neck with how far back he tilts it.
Suffice to say, third time's a charm in this little Stamina Experiment or Game of theirs.
The gasp that leaves his lips is a breathless one when he drops back against the mattress and he lays there. Spent. Staring up to the ceiling with glassy eyes and a sheen of sweat across his chest and forehead. It takes him a moment before he can even find the strength to move, legs like jelly and knocking against Bruce, before he lolls his head to the side and lazily blinks his eyes a few times. Swallowing thickly. ]
So good... [ He murmurs, wearing a lazy smile. ] I came for you so good, didn't I?
[ Barry's desperate sounds, the clench of him around his fingers, the way his body spasms and all his muscles strain and stand out as he goes so tense, is just fucking unreal. Bruce finds himself breathing hard just watching him, and he has to drag in a deep breath just to settle, pulse still keyed up, stroking over his flank soothingly. ]
You did, [ he tells him, leaning over and kissing him. ] Just perfect.
[ Bruce gently withdraws his fingers, and gives the end curve where his thigh meets his ass a tender squeeze. Slips his other hand to the younger man's cock, meanwhile, stroking over hyper-sensitized flesh, wringing anything else out of him, drawing his fingers through the sticky mess across his torso. Rubbing it into his skin a little, marvelling that he's still got anything to give on his third climax. ]
Fuck, Barry.
[ He nuzzles in, giving him soft kisses, ignoring the state of his own arousal. He really could watch that all day. ] You needed it, I bet. [ One broad hand skims up his chest and higher, drifting over his throat, to cradle his jaw. Fingers a little sticky from Barry's own ejaculate, he presses his thumb against his lower lip. ] Needed to be milked just like that.
[ Bruce is sure he hasn't been with anyone who could come like that, since - when? Ever? Like a teenager is not quite right. Even when he was a teenager, messing around, everything was lightning-quick and embarrassing, even if it was immediately repetitive. Lacking this bone-deep satisfaction, the depth of it. ]
[ The softest mmhm is given in reply to Bruce's words and he kisses over that thumb at his lips. Slow. Lazy. Barely a whisper of a sigh on his lips, one that tells of the blissed out state he's currently in before eyes flutter a few times and he comes to push himself into his elbows, lips still there against that thumb. ]
What about you?
[ Another blink, he pushes himself up with a hum, sitting up there with Bruce and slips a hand between their bodies to let fingers curl around the man's own neglected cock. Stroking him. Nice and slow. ]
What do you need? [ A beat, his eyes grow a little dark in their desire, as if that fourth(?) wind has suddenly caught up. ] What part of me do you need? My mouth maybe?
[ As he asks — suggests, he takes the tips of Bruce's fingers into his mouth and begins to suck on them. Slow. Lewd. Never taking those brown eyes of his off the other man as he does. Sucking them in a way he'd suck — he has sucked something else of his and much like before on the couch, he still shows how eager he is to do it. How much he enjoys it, even with his lazy way of doing it.
He withdraws those fingers a couple seconds later, even after he's sucked on them to the knuckle, and in doing so, he lets them go with a messy wet pop, smiling as he does. ]
But you've already had my mouth. [ Words soft, he continues to stroke over that cock with his fingers, never looking away from him. ] Already watched me swallow your cum.
[ He grunts, the twitch of his hips involuntary when Barry takes him in hand, iron-hard and aching after all that. His fingers press oh-so-lightly against the younger man's tongue, barely-there teasing, letting him control it. Beautiful, like he said. And wildly slutty, apparently, despite the lack of wider experience. Something to be appreciated. ]
Gonna be coy after all that, huh. [ Bruce covers Barry's hand with his own, helping him stroke his cock, rocking into that grip, practically using him to jack off. Keeping it slow. It'll take him a little while to orgasm, being, u kno, This Old and having come already, but still. ] Do you think I didn't like your mouth enough to want it again?
[ Bruce slips his other arm around and beneath Barry, getting a grip that's like a hug, before he sits up, hauling him along. He leans back on his heels, putting Barry upright with thighs splayed over his lap, easily strong enough to hold him in this otherwise precarious position, cock rubbing eager and hot between them. He shifts both hands to his ass - helpful for balance. And for squeezing and kneading those curves of muscle, spreading him apart, teasing fingertips between. ]
Sore already?
[ Barry seeming to be back into it so quick for round four (!) is a bit [laughs nervously in i thought my libido was hardcore] but he's not about to roll over yet. By any means. ]
[ That fact that Bruce admits to wanting his mouth again gets Barry to practically purr against those fingers in his mouth because he will, absolutely with no hesitation, suck him off again if it's what the other man wants. Having Bruce's cock in his mouth — having it hit the back of his throat with those long strokes he'd fed him before... it'd been a turn on for him — something he'd enjoyed a lot more than he has in his thoughts; nothing beats The Real Deal. Or Real Cock in this case.
When he's shifted and hauled about, he lets himself be, a pleased little hum on his lips when he comes to more or less settle there on the other man's lap. Bruce's strength is not a thing Barry's ever doubted and there's a hotness to the thought that he could pin him and toss him around however he wants, Barry becoming nothing more than a tangle of limbs and whimpers and cries for more.
Arms winding around the other man's neck, he leans in close and lets eyes fall shut with another pleased little hum, nuzzling at Bruce's forehead as those fingers touch and tease him from behind. ]
I heal quick. [ He brushes the words against Bruce's lips, smiling a little playfully before he kisses him slow. ] But is that lucky for me or lucky for you?
[ Huffing a soft laugh, he lets lips brush a kiss over Bruce's forehead as he tilts his head back some, shifting a little there on his lap in the position they're in. Nosing at him, he cradles the side of Bruce's face with a hand, leaning in close as he drops his other down to stroke over the man's cock with his fingers. ]
Wouldn't it be both? [ Bruce kisses him, light because he's tilted back some to keep them balanced. Barry is surprisingly dense (in terms of matter and muscle,, not,,), but it feels nice. The way his weight bears down on his thighs, making him have to tense in his hips and abdominals. His hand on his cock. He could get off like this, just rubbing Barry against him, playing around.
Then—
He exhales in something like a laugh. ] I don't know if you'd like him.
[ Weird thing to say, maybe? Bruce Wayne is someone he pretends to be. Vapid and boring. How does that man like to fuck. Lazily, letting other people do the work, or selfishly. The only goal being a moment without thought. He's been waiting for a bad reputation for years, but a big dick and billions of dollars go a long way, apparently.
His real self is both more complicated, and less.
He gives Barry's butt a light tap. Playful. He makes sure they're looking at each other, ] We don't have to. Not that you're putting out mixed signals.
[ Still. Just in case. ]
When you fuck yourself, are you laying on your back? [ Another one of those light kisses, sweet in a filthy contrast to what he's asking. He rubs the fingers of one hand in the clef of his ass, finding his hole and petting over it. ] Or do you get on your knees?
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What's he supposed to do? Stop?
I need you, Barry says, and something twists in his stomach. Just a little. He'd never think of Barry in such insulting terms (and not only because he doesn't think that word is an insult).
It would just, you know, hurt his feelings real bad. Pathetic as that truth is. He'd give Barry anything - would a week ago, would without any of this. A part of his brain is already calculating how many cases and how far back an investigation would have to go, to get to the root of potential mishandling. What histories do each of the police involved have? What did the DA's office look like at the time? What evidence remains, how has it been evaluated over the years? What immediate and long-term ripples have been caused?
It's Bruce's turn to shift his hands, holding Barry's face, looking at him intently. ]
Anything you need, or want, at any time, [ he tells him gravely. ] You don't have to give or do anything. You don't even have to be nice to me about it. Do you understand?
[ He likes that the younger man has clarified. But still. ]
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For a long moment, he's silent when Bruce says to him what he does and he can feel a sort of urgency laced within those words that maybe Bruce doesn't realize is there. Needing him to understand that, regardless of all of... this.
Lips part as if to speak but... he smiles instead. Soft. A nod given to show that he hears him, that he understands, he turns his face into one of those hands and kisses softly at a wet palm, letting it linger there for a few seconds. ]
I think you could use a bit of nice in your life.
[ The pad of his thumb traces over a scar Bruce wears, running along the entirety of it before he leans in to bump his nose against the other man's, hand coming up to grip at his neck again. ]
I ran back so I could see you again. [ His words are a quiet whisper so close to Bruce's lips there, just barely touching. ] There's very little I wouldn't do for you.
[ Looking to kiss him, he stops then, pulling back just enough to raise a brow to the man. ]
By the way — if I were looking to butter you up and get something out of you, pretty sure it would be the batmobile. Just saying.
[ You silly old man. ]
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But he can like it. Sometimes.
He smiles the faintest bit, about the car. Remains quiet for a while. Someone's fingertips are going to be nearly pruned.
Finally he moves, leaning in enough to kiss him. Slow and sensual, hands splayed on his back, cradling him and pulling him flush against him. ]
I'm not convinced you know how to drive, [ Bruce murmurs against his mouth. ]
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Pretty sure I know how to drive you crazy with my mouth on your cock.
[ Oh the grin he wears in saying that before soft laughter bubbles from those lips of his and he leans up to kiss at the other man's temple, fingers stroking down the side of his neck. This is nice. All of this is... nice. Some semblance of normal amidst their respective chaos they have within their lives.
Ducking his head, he noses at Bruce's neck, lips pressing a couple warm open-mouthed kisses there before he hums a little to himself and lets hands brush over the expanse of the other man's back. Just wanting to feel him. Keep him close like this. Solidify him and remind himself that he's real. That he's here. That he's not alone. On both their parts. ]
If you take me to bed, I'm gonna keep touching you, ok? Coming to find I like touching you.
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[ Just kidding, he takes it all back, kicking Barry out for the night—
No. Bruce does lean away for a second, but he's clearly teasing, and returns to Barry's hold. No escaping.
Clearly he's alright with that notion. That they haven't gotten up to anything in here is probably down, simply, to that near heart attack Barry gave him. So: more making out, more soap, and fortunately there's enough room to get that done in here without bonking anyone's elbows into tile. A wide expanse of shower cubicle, and expensive enough stone to prevent slipping without the need for little rubber flowers on the floor. (Even the drain is neatly designed to not be such an obvious dent. Aesthetic.)
Bruce is fine. Probably. Barry skitters around from topic to topic, too quick for ordinary human thought processes, on top of what Bruce figures is probably a natural inclination towards being sort of awkward. And that's something he accepts without prejudice; some things he's just weird about.
Maybe that's also fine. ]
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He takes to kissing the other man in random spots across his neck, shoulders, and collarbones, wet and warm in the way he does while letting arms encircle the other man around his waist, firm and content in the way he keeps him nice and close. He loves the feel of the water relaxing his muscles and the lips and touches that brush over his own wet skin as they stay there a little longer in the show. If the point of all of this was to actually clean themselves it's... partly achieved? He certainly doesn't feel as flushed and sweaty as he had been back on Bruce's couch, so. There's that accomplishment.
As much as he loves the warmth of the water around him, he does have other plans than to become a California Raisin. Plans which involve wrapping himself up in the luxury of a big-big bed and sinking into sheets and skin and arms maybe. For once.
Pressing a wet kiss to the other man's peck, he looks up to them as he brushes a hand over his face, chasing away the water. ]
Think I'm good. Kinda got myself excited for your bed and sinking into it.
[ Because it's sure to be something bigger and nicer than anything he's ever had before. Hands brushing over Bruce's arms, he hums a little, a smile on his lips as he looks up to him again. ]
Wanna head out?
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Some hours ago by now, Barry asked about his bedroom, and Bruce said he missed it. Now it's easier to see how - the entirety of the lake house is one open space with a few dividers, barring a rectangle in the center that hides the small original bathroom and various utility hookups. When they'd arrived after the diner, they'd walked along the side of the house with the kitchen, facing the woods that lead to the manor. Simply turning the other way at the elevator doors lands them at the other side, facing the lake.
It's grey out, nearing the stage of turning gold. Very early morning, and the slowly churning water and shapes of distant trees are either eerie or beautiful, depending on your point of view. Bruce's bed is the main feature, backed up against the aforementioned rectangle, a 'wall' that serves as a headboard. Above his bed is a large photograph of what might be a flower, or a contorted person; hard to tell in the dark. It's quite sexual, either way, contrasting sharply with the modern restraint of everything else.
White sheets. Very soft but firm mattress.
Almost coyly, ]
Do you want pajamas?
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Clothes are left behind on the floor, Barry still in his robe as he starfishes himself out there on the large, white bed, before he huffs a laugh to himself at how not bouncy or fluffy it is — which kinda almost sorta makes sense for Bruce — before he comes to turn on his side, fingers carding through his damp strands of hair that stick a little to his forehead and face.
He's not entirely sure what he'd expected in terms of Bruce's private quarters. The expansive windows are certainly something any voyeur would take pleasure in... if they could walk on water or had a high tech scope on their lens from the bushes out there. Creepy, but. You know. But the way it almost feels as if they're floating on water is serene if even in an eerie sort of way and yet, it blends beautifully beautiful with how Bruce himself can come off sometimes.
Gaze lingering on the photograph overhead, when the offer for pj's comes up, he looks over to Bruce then, cheek pressing against his shoulder. A shake of his head, he slowly wears a playful grin on his lips, shifting to lay there on his side a little better, hand pulling back the corner of the sheets beside him. ]
But I won't say no to you.
[ Sometimes, he can wear that confidence of his a little boldly and not end up stumbling over his own words or thoughts. ]
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Charming and, in this case, also a turn-on.
Bruce sits at the edge of the bed and shrugs his robe off, unconcerned with the windows. No one's back here. It's isolated, he owns the land several square miles in either direction, and has constant monitoring of the grounds and airspace. A funny psychological trick; still alone, confined, despite the vast openness. He runs a hand up Barry's side to his chest, petting over him before leaning in and giving him a kiss.
Nothing to do now but prowl closer, pull sheets back, get tangled up. Mouth on his. ]
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His enthusiasm spills into the kiss he's tangled up in, hand grasping the back of the other man's neck and pulling him in closer as he drops back against the bed, the front of his robe falling open as he does. His lips are just as eager as his touches as he deepens their kiss with featherlight breaths, and he goes so far as to sharply nip at Bruce's bottom lip, dragging a leg up along his side as he grins with a pleased little hum against that mouth. ]
Are you looking to get me off three times in one night? Because you're getting dangerously close to that. Just saying.
[ Words he murmurs against the man's neck and chest as he presses warm open-mouthed kisses along his skin, letting fingertips brush over his arm and side. ]
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'Dangerously close'? [ He gets a kiss on Barry's cheekbone as he slips a hand over his shoulder, encouraging his arms out of the robe sleeves. Not letting him up to do away with it, hitching close to rock down against him, between his thighs. His physical self can be a little overwhelming, but Barry looked so pleased, and it went straight to Bruce's cock. He captures his mouth again before shifting to one side, stretching an arm out. ] Can't be missing that.
[ He fishes lube out of a bedside compartment, which is free of the depressing clutter that had plagued it for a few years. (Pill bottles, empty glasses, wine stains.) Silicone-based. You know. Friction. Speed. Just in case. He clicks it open and gets his hand wet, reaches between them to slick it cool and sticky just below Barry's navel, warming it up, teasing him, not-quite-there. ]
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His breath hitches at both the thought and the way it feels when Bruce rocks against him, eyes slipping shut and the faintest of his moans dropping from his lips before he licks them over. Before he swallows thickly.
Bruce has done this countless times, he thinks. Maybe not (always?) with men as much as women, but for Barry, he worries he might get swept up in Bruce to the point of it becoming... more. Because after all this, when the morning has fully come and no longer flirts with the night outside, he's still not sure what will happen, what any of this will mean, despite neither of them wanting to forget. Things to worry and mull about later, he tells that part of his mind, sighing in such a lovely little way as Bruce touches him in places he's only ever really touched himself. ]
Like this is ok?
[ He asks then, his voice soft. Curious. ]
I mean... you don't want me some other way? Different... position?
[ You know, if Bruce doesn't want something so vanilla. ]
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Mm. [ Different? Bruce gets that mark a little darker, lets his teeth graze it. ] I just want you, Barry.
[ Making that clear, first and foremost. He pauses his stroking just to hold him, squeezing gently, almost massaging his cock with his hand. Thinks about the mechanics of various things. They don't have to have penetrative sex. There's nothing less intimate about a lack of it; mutual orgasms are a hell of a thing no matter what.
Doesn't want him to be bored, though. ]
What do you prefer?
[ He hitches his hips up, just slightly, rocking against the younger man. ]
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But it's that slight rock of his hips Bruce rolls into him that really sets something within him off and the sound the younger man makes while gripping tight to an arm is needy and wanton in ways that it hasn't exactly been thus far tonight.
With a suddenly flushed face, he breathes, fingers running over the bicep he clutches tight to while he takes a moment to just enjoy that feeling, swallowing thickly, before he rocks himself up against the other man a little. Slow and teasing and curious. ]
I want you, too.
[ Words are shaky as they turn into a moan, Barry tilting his head back some as eyes fall shut and he enjoys having the weight of Bruce against him- of feeling his own cock hard and pressing at him, knowing it's because of him. ]
I want to come a third time because of you and I want you to come, too. Inside, in my mouth, on my face. Just want you to come again. Want it to be with you.
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And what he says. Fuck. ]
Coming again won't be a problem, [ he husks against him. There is no real bat-growl in this universe, courtesy of his spooky synthesizer, but still there's something low and a bit darker-sounding about him when he gets cranked like this.
He moves his hand, leaving them pressed all together but moving lower, stroking beneath his balls, watching his reaction. ] Do you like getting yourself off like this?
[ Asking 'have you been fucked before' feels both rude and obvious, he skitters away from that. Bruce has no actual jitters about who's first time doing what; everyone's on their own schedule. ]
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The way he brushes his cock against his own — how his fingers slip lower and lower until they're practically teasing him there between his legs with that question he has The Nerve to ask him right now when he's so wound up and skin flushed from the way he gets him going again, Barry loves it — needs it — so much that his stammering awkwardness is so swiftly replaced with a more confidant — a more filthy — side of him that seems to come so easy when he sinks into those touches and teasing and husky breaths Bruce gives to him so freely. When his head is full of nothing but wanting Bruce. All his dirty little thoughts just spill out of him. ]
I like thinking of you.
[ Breathing the words, hands reach back over his shoulders and he grips tight at the sheets as he squirms there beneath the man, swallow thickly, face flushed. ]
Of being bent over your desk and taken from behind... blowing you in an elevator and making sure I clan you up with my tongue... riding you in the front or backseat of your car and taking every last drop you give me... wearing a plug for you and only letting you fuck me because you're the only one I want filling me up.
[ Lips parting, he bumps his head against Bruce's and lets lips brush over his... but doesn't kiss him. Instead, he smiles, just barely kissing the top of his lip before he licks over his own, moaning there against his mouth. ]
You're the one I want filling me up.
[ No, sir. I haven't been fucked before but I have many ideas of how I would like to be. ]
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Answers a few things. Also washes away any lingering reservations in a wave of arousal, and Bruce's hand stills as he takes it in. He kisses him, pushing in hard with it, scrape of teeth, tongue fucking into his mouth in a blatant mime of fucking him with something else. He keeps kissing him while he gets more lube on his fingers, and comes back to begin to press and tease at his hole. Shifting his weight enough so that there's room to do it without snapping his wrist. ]
A lot of mileage happening in your imagination, [ he says, mouth brushing against Barry's as he speaks, continuing to play with him with thick fingers. ] Wonder if you could really cover it.
[ Stamina, sure. Wearing a plug outside the bedroom is not beginner kink. But Barry probably doesn't expect to be pulled into handcuffs right now. (Or does he. There were those comments. Hours ago. A lifetime ago. I don't think we're at Dairy Queen anymore, Toto.) ]
You sound... really beautiful, Barry.
[ Unfortunately he only has sincere compliments. What a dork. Too many years (fuck, decades) putting on a fake act, everything left in between one mask or the other is strange and stilted and too-revealing in its awkward honesty. Pressing in, ghosting a kiss to the side of his mouth, as he rubs over his prostate. ]
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As much as he loves the weight of Bruce against him and the tongue fucking he's been given with kisses pressed wherever Bruce so desires them to be pressed, it's the way those fingers stroke him from the inside that really get to him and the sound Barry makes for the other man is loud and unabashed and maybe even a little slutty. But it's fine, it doesn't matter. What does is the way those fingers make his body shake with pleasure, practically vibrating against both the bed and the other man as he knocks his head back and heels dig tight into the mattress.
For a moment, his mind blanks — a white landscape of nothing but trembling pleasure at the way Bruce plays with him with those fingers of his. It's only after a handful of seconds that he strings together the words Bruce has said to him and he moans, at first, in reply to them. ]
You're beautiful... [ He breathes the words through a shaky breath, turning his head to try and steal a kiss from the other man. ] ...I wanna come for you so many times.
[ Fingers of one hand come to card through Bruce's hair at the side, lips buzzing with hums against his cheek before he moans again, head falling back to the pillows. Eyes glassy, lips parted, hips rocking against that hand to feel more of those fingers. He grips at a shoulder with his other hand before he finally makes himself look to Bruce there from beneath him. ]
Do you wanna fuck me? Do you wanna see how good I am at taking you?
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I do, and I will. [ A rough promise, looking at him. Bruce presses a light kiss to Barry's mouth and then shifts up a little onto his knees, a degree of extra leverage. He grabs the younger man's hip with his other hand and pulls at him, encouraging him to rock up onto his fingers more. There's an edge of an order in his low voice: ] I want you to come like this. On my fingers. Show me.
[ Pressing in more, rubbing fingertips in what he knows will be maddening. Barry's practically been vibrating against him and he's fascinated. It's so uniquely him, and surreal, and everything being beyond human experience makes sense, in his crazy fucking life—
It's also extremely hot. His own cock is hard enough to be leaking, brushing against the inside of Barry's thigh. ]
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Barry tips his head back as another shaky gasp leaves him, eyes squeezed shut while hips rock harder against that hand. That fucking amazing hand with those fucking amazing fingers that are touching and fucking him in ways no one else ever has and Barry swears it's the hottest thing he's ever felt — that Bruce is the hottest person ever. ]
I— wanna come. I wanna come so bad. Please.
[ Heels dig hard into the mattress around the other man and Barry keeps fucking himself on those fingers as asked — as told — sharp little breaths and gasps spilling from lips more quickly as sweat rolls down the back of his neck, along the curve of his tailbone. He's close — he's really fucking close and he can't believe he's going to come from Bruce's fingers alone.
Despite his slightly lean figure, the muscles across his arms pull tight as he grips at the sheets around him, eyes still shut with head tilted back, pained little whines spilling from him at how much he loves and hates this at the same time. Lost in how good he feels — lost in how much more good he wants to feel with coming like Bruce tells him to. When he does finally come, it's with a sharp hitch of breath and a sudden trembling of his body that almost makes the bed itself vibrate. But that hitch of breath bleeds into a pleased little whine and he comes harder than he had the previous two times, thick spurts of hot cum painting across his own stomach as he shudders, as he gasps, as he nearly breaks his neck with how far back he tilts it.
Suffice to say, third time's a charm in this little Stamina Experiment or Game of theirs.
The gasp that leaves his lips is a breathless one when he drops back against the mattress and he lays there. Spent. Staring up to the ceiling with glassy eyes and a sheen of sweat across his chest and forehead. It takes him a moment before he can even find the strength to move, legs like jelly and knocking against Bruce, before he lolls his head to the side and lazily blinks his eyes a few times. Swallowing thickly. ]
So good... [ He murmurs, wearing a lazy smile. ] I came for you so good, didn't I?
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You did, [ he tells him, leaning over and kissing him. ] Just perfect.
[ Bruce gently withdraws his fingers, and gives the end curve where his thigh meets his ass a tender squeeze. Slips his other hand to the younger man's cock, meanwhile, stroking over hyper-sensitized flesh, wringing anything else out of him, drawing his fingers through the sticky mess across his torso. Rubbing it into his skin a little, marvelling that he's still got anything to give on his third climax. ]
Fuck, Barry.
[ He nuzzles in, giving him soft kisses, ignoring the state of his own arousal. He really could watch that all day. ] You needed it, I bet. [ One broad hand skims up his chest and higher, drifting over his throat, to cradle his jaw. Fingers a little sticky from Barry's own ejaculate, he presses his thumb against his lower lip. ] Needed to be milked just like that.
[ Bruce is sure he hasn't been with anyone who could come like that, since - when? Ever? Like a teenager is not quite right. Even when he was a teenager, messing around, everything was lightning-quick and embarrassing, even if it was immediately repetitive. Lacking this bone-deep satisfaction, the depth of it. ]
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What about you?
[ Another blink, he pushes himself up with a hum, sitting up there with Bruce and slips a hand between their bodies to let fingers curl around the man's own neglected cock. Stroking him. Nice and slow. ]
What do you need? [ A beat, his eyes grow a little dark in their desire, as if that fourth(?) wind has suddenly caught up. ] What part of me do you need? My mouth maybe?
[ As he asks — suggests, he takes the tips of Bruce's fingers into his mouth and begins to suck on them. Slow. Lewd. Never taking those brown eyes of his off the other man as he does. Sucking them in a way he'd suck — he has sucked something else of his and much like before on the couch, he still shows how eager he is to do it. How much he enjoys it, even with his lazy way of doing it.
He withdraws those fingers a couple seconds later, even after he's sucked on them to the knuckle, and in doing so, he lets them go with a messy wet pop, smiling as he does. ]
But you've already had my mouth. [ Words soft, he continues to stroke over that cock with his fingers, never looking away from him. ] Already watched me swallow your cum.
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Gonna be coy after all that, huh. [ Bruce covers Barry's hand with his own, helping him stroke his cock, rocking into that grip, practically using him to jack off. Keeping it slow. It'll take him a little while to orgasm, being, u kno, This Old and having come already, but still. ] Do you think I didn't like your mouth enough to want it again?
[ Bruce slips his other arm around and beneath Barry, getting a grip that's like a hug, before he sits up, hauling him along. He leans back on his heels, putting Barry upright with thighs splayed over his lap, easily strong enough to hold him in this otherwise precarious position, cock rubbing eager and hot between them. He shifts both hands to his ass - helpful for balance. And for squeezing and kneading those curves of muscle, spreading him apart, teasing fingertips between. ]
Sore already?
[ Barry seeming to be back into it so quick for round four (!) is a bit [laughs nervously in i thought my libido was hardcore] but he's not about to roll over yet. By any means. ]
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When he's shifted and hauled about, he lets himself be, a pleased little hum on his lips when he comes to more or less settle there on the other man's lap. Bruce's strength is not a thing Barry's ever doubted and there's a hotness to the thought that he could pin him and toss him around however he wants, Barry becoming nothing more than a tangle of limbs and whimpers and cries for more.
Arms winding around the other man's neck, he leans in close and lets eyes fall shut with another pleased little hum, nuzzling at Bruce's forehead as those fingers touch and tease him from behind. ]
I heal quick. [ He brushes the words against Bruce's lips, smiling a little playfully before he kisses him slow. ] But is that lucky for me or lucky for you?
[ Huffing a soft laugh, he lets lips brush a kiss over Bruce's forehead as he tilts his head back some, shifting a little there on his lap in the position they're in. Nosing at him, he cradles the side of Bruce's face with a hand, leaning in close as he drops his other down to stroke over the man's cock with his fingers. ]
How does Bruce Wayne like to fuck?
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Then—
He exhales in something like a laugh. ] I don't know if you'd like him.
[ Weird thing to say, maybe? Bruce Wayne is someone he pretends to be. Vapid and boring. How does that man like to fuck. Lazily, letting other people do the work, or selfishly. The only goal being a moment without thought. He's been waiting for a bad reputation for years, but a big dick and billions of dollars go a long way, apparently.
His real self is both more complicated, and less.
He gives Barry's butt a light tap. Playful. He makes sure they're looking at each other, ] We don't have to. Not that you're putting out mixed signals.
[ Still. Just in case. ]
When you fuck yourself, are you laying on your back? [ Another one of those light kisses, sweet in a filthy contrast to what he's asking. He rubs the fingers of one hand in the clef of his ass, finding his hole and petting over it. ] Or do you get on your knees?
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