For someone with so much on his plate, Bruce could be a man of singular focus, sometimes to the detriment of the other parts of his life. It was no easy task getting him to shift away from his work because it could be so all consuming. It would have to be something seismic.
Tonight, Batman is almost a far away thing. Not gone, never gone. Not even truly set aside. Just. Paused, while Bruce's gaze stayed fixed on the man rolling a condom on and shifting his body to get the best angle in the mirror.
Bruce went when beckoned, crawling toward Blake and reaching for him when he got to him so that he could pull the other man into a heated kiss. He could taste himself on Blake's tongue and it made him shudder a little.
“Go slow.” Not because Bruce needed him to. “I want to feel every inch of you.”
Maybe he was smart about it, or possibly just clever-handed — but certainly experienced enough — so he'd spared one hand for the sake of semi-cleanliness and his own eager inhibitions. Anticipating the need to place his grasp on Bruce, he slid his fingers around the back of the other man's head and met him wholeheartedly and mouth-to-mouth.
The puff of Bruce's heated words across his face set Blake to rumble with greedy desire; as much as Bruce wanted to feel him, he wanted to feel Bruce — wanted that slick, encapsulating warmth that traveled his body. Wanted to feel it everywhere: cock, balls, guts, brain, and maybe even a few untouched depths.
"Yeah, a'right, I've got you," Blake muttered, nipping at Bruce's lips and peppering wet dabs where his tongue wandered. Wrapped around the slick condom, his other hand left off pumping in favor of a firm guiding grip at the base of his dick, taken then on parade to avoid Bruce distracting him from their purpose.
While the mirror would eventually come into play for him, his own attention was drawn downward at the hedonistic visage. With eyes dark and wide, mouth either agape or gnawing itself eagerly, Blake pressed the head teasingly, taking double the occasion to swipe a lubed thumb over Bruce's entrance and draw out the moment. He rocked that pressure slowly into play, little breaths held and lost with every bit he advanced. Past the head, he wouldn't be pulling back out, but up to that point he was enjoying the control.
Slow he could do. Slow was a treat, in fact, which Blake wouldn't take for granted.
He moaned Bruce's name, and followed with a foul-mouthed, "Fuck, Jesus, fuck—" because the further south all his blood traveled, the fewer words found their way north in return.
If asked, Bruce would say it's a little of both. Smart enough to recognize the necessity. Clever handed enough to make it work. But if he were asked, Bruce would also say it didn't really matter at this point. A lot of rational thought, a lot of his good sense and reason had been replaced with desire, pure and unadulterated. It's not something he let himself feel often – to0 easy to get lost in and it was a terrible clash against that constant need for vigilance. He could never afford to be lost in anything. But part of him wanted to forget. Wanted for just this precious moment a chance to just let himself feel and feel good too. So he did, when their mouths met again and he felt that flood of warmth in his blood and bones.
I got you settled over him like a blanket, warm and cozy and he felt another finger loosen it's grip on the cord. He could let go because he trusted Blake enough not to demand that control back. He trusted himself enough to think he could have both – vigilance and this heady, intoxicating pleasure.
He was ready. As ready as he could be when that first scant inch pressed into him. Instinct wanted him to seize up, but Bruce forced his body to relax, willed the tension out of those muscles so that Blake could sink deeper. His fingers flexed and he inhaled a quiet breath that kept him grounded, so he could stay here in the moment. When he said he wanted to feel every inch, he meant it and it wouldn't do to lose himself so soon. He wanted to stay right here. Right here so he could be aware enough to know when Blake bottomed out and so he could see the look on his face when he did.
He didn't moan. Not yet. But his chest heaved, a quiet sound of approval. “I'm right here,” he says, even though it doesn't feel like he has the breath to say it. Bruce reached for Blake, fingers ghosting over his cheek and down his neck. “Stay with me.”
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Tonight, Batman is almost a far away thing. Not gone, never gone. Not even truly set aside. Just. Paused, while Bruce's gaze stayed fixed on the man rolling a condom on and shifting his body to get the best angle in the mirror.
Bruce went when beckoned, crawling toward Blake and reaching for him when he got to him so that he could pull the other man into a heated kiss. He could taste himself on Blake's tongue and it made him shudder a little.
“Go slow.” Not because Bruce needed him to. “I want to feel every inch of you.”
no subject
The puff of Bruce's heated words across his face set Blake to rumble with greedy desire; as much as Bruce wanted to feel him, he wanted to feel Bruce — wanted that slick, encapsulating warmth that traveled his body. Wanted to feel it everywhere: cock, balls, guts, brain, and maybe even a few untouched depths.
"Yeah, a'right, I've got you," Blake muttered, nipping at Bruce's lips and peppering wet dabs where his tongue wandered. Wrapped around the slick condom, his other hand left off pumping in favor of a firm guiding grip at the base of his dick, taken then on parade to avoid Bruce distracting him from their purpose.
While the mirror would eventually come into play for him, his own attention was drawn downward at the hedonistic visage. With eyes dark and wide, mouth either agape or gnawing itself eagerly, Blake pressed the head teasingly, taking double the occasion to swipe a lubed thumb over Bruce's entrance and draw out the moment. He rocked that pressure slowly into play, little breaths held and lost with every bit he advanced. Past the head, he wouldn't be pulling back out, but up to that point he was enjoying the control.
Slow he could do. Slow was a treat, in fact, which Blake wouldn't take for granted.
He moaned Bruce's name, and followed with a foul-mouthed, "Fuck, Jesus, fuck—" because the further south all his blood traveled, the fewer words found their way north in return.
no subject
I got you settled over him like a blanket, warm and cozy and he felt another finger loosen it's grip on the cord. He could let go because he trusted Blake enough not to demand that control back. He trusted himself enough to think he could have both – vigilance and this heady, intoxicating pleasure.
He was ready. As ready as he could be when that first scant inch pressed into him. Instinct wanted him to seize up, but Bruce forced his body to relax, willed the tension out of those muscles so that Blake could sink deeper. His fingers flexed and he inhaled a quiet breath that kept him grounded, so he could stay here in the moment. When he said he wanted to feel every inch, he meant it and it wouldn't do to lose himself so soon. He wanted to stay right here. Right here so he could be aware enough to know when Blake bottomed out and so he could see the look on his face when he did.
He didn't moan. Not yet. But his chest heaved, a quiet sound of approval. “I'm right here,” he says, even though it doesn't feel like he has the breath to say it. Bruce reached for Blake, fingers ghosting over his cheek and down his neck. “Stay with me.”