If he were honest, Bruce wasn't too sure how he would feel hearing that word from Tim. It had not been intentional when Bruce said it, but here, while Tim is rocking into his abs, it is very much intended. Even if he's whispered it into his chest, even if he's hiding his face to hide how embarrassed he is.
As it has time to settle, Bruce decides he likes it just fine. His free hand graze over the beautiful curve of his spine, while he leans forward to kiss his shoulder and kiss his neck. Then up his cheek and close to his ear.
"Can I?" Tim gasps, shivery at hearing it again from Bruce, right there
against the shell of his ear. In that dark, intimate voice. "Can I come?
Please, can I--can I touch myself and come?"
He couldn't yet say the word again, too distraught as he rocked into Bruce,
close but needing more to get off and still under Bruce's spell enough to
ask for permission. He'd been told not to touch himself. He wouldn't. If
Bruce said no, he'd buck into him all night to get off or go without.
Tim's begging does something to him. Stirs something dark and warm inside of him that goes straight to his cock. Tim's obedience does the same and Bruce inhales sharply, quietly against the side of Tim's head.
When he asks again, Bruce doesn't answer. Not right away. He looks down to watch that hard flesh pressing into his abdomen.
"No." There's nothing malicious in the denial. Just a quiet warmth to go with Bruce wrapping his fingers around Tim's cock and stroking him in tandem with every roll of his hips. "Don't stop."
"No-no? Bruce, I---haaah...." Tim shudders, clenching his legs around Bruce
as those thick fingers find his aching hardness. He's too worked up to know
if Bruce is saying no to coming or no to touching or no to both, so he just
breathes through the absolute torture of the pleasure and continues to jerk
and thrust into Bruce's fist and against his body. "I ca-n't, Bruce I
can't--please...." He can. He tells himself he can. He'll wait as long as
it takes, as long as Bruce wants.
Forever, if he asked it. Tim is his soldier and perfect boy and he would
wait for permission.
For a minute, he doesn't bother to clear up the confusion. He likes the desperate sounds Tim makes, but the way he keeps going because he wants to make Bruce happy. He likes the weight of Tim's cock in his hand. He likes the way Tim tries to hold himself back when he's clearly close to the brink. Bruce could be cruel and tell him to stop, edge him close and leave him wanting. He could; Tim's given him the power to do so. But he decides the sight of Tim coming would be a better one.
So after a few lazy strokes, he kisses Tim's jaw again and says, "It's okay, Tim. Come for me."
It's an explosion out of Tim barely a few seconds after permission is
given. Tim had been holding his breath and he lets it all out in a huff as
he arches his body back. Holding his arms loose around Bruce's neck, he
thrusts two more times into Bruce's perfect hand and then comes. Thick
spatters of come against Bruce's chest, down the man's fingers, onto his
own body with how his cock is arched that way, twitching helplessly in the
rough texture of Bruce's grip. Tim doesn't shout, instead his lips are
merely parted and nothing really comes out except a sigh of gratitude.
The other men hadn't known what to do with Tim, how to give him what he
needed. The pain was fine, good even, but it's nothing compared to the
emotional toll being with Bruce takes on him. Like being wrung dry.
When it's over, Tim sags against Bruce, face buried against his shoulder as
he pants and tries to catch his breath.
Bruce braces a hand against Tim's back, holding him steady as he comes. And as he watches his boy come unraveled, Bruce knows he made the right choice. He's beautiful to watch, flush cheeks and sweat-drenched and Bruce watches while he's hitting that high and when he comes down from it after. He waits for Tim to go slack, then holds him close, like he's something precious.
They'd have to get up soon enough, but for now, Bruce just wants to hold Tim for a moment longer.
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no subject
As it has time to settle, Bruce decides he likes it just fine. His free hand graze over the beautiful curve of his spine, while he leans forward to kiss his shoulder and kiss his neck. Then up his cheek and close to his ear.
"Are you going to come for Daddy?"
no subject
"Can I?" Tim gasps, shivery at hearing it again from Bruce, right there against the shell of his ear. In that dark, intimate voice. "Can I come? Please, can I--can I touch myself and come?"
He couldn't yet say the word again, too distraught as he rocked into Bruce, close but needing more to get off and still under Bruce's spell enough to ask for permission. He'd been told not to touch himself. He wouldn't. If Bruce said no, he'd buck into him all night to get off or go without.
no subject
When he asks again, Bruce doesn't answer. Not right away. He looks down to watch that hard flesh pressing into his abdomen.
"No." There's nothing malicious in the denial. Just a quiet warmth to go with Bruce wrapping his fingers around Tim's cock and stroking him in tandem with every roll of his hips. "Don't stop."
no subject
"No-no? Bruce, I---haaah...." Tim shudders, clenching his legs around Bruce as those thick fingers find his aching hardness. He's too worked up to know if Bruce is saying no to coming or no to touching or no to both, so he just breathes through the absolute torture of the pleasure and continues to jerk and thrust into Bruce's fist and against his body. "I ca-n't, Bruce I can't--please...." He can. He tells himself he can. He'll wait as long as it takes, as long as Bruce wants.
Forever, if he asked it. Tim is his soldier and perfect boy and he would wait for permission.
no subject
So after a few lazy strokes, he kisses Tim's jaw again and says, "It's okay, Tim. Come for me."
no subject
It's an explosion out of Tim barely a few seconds after permission is given. Tim had been holding his breath and he lets it all out in a huff as he arches his body back. Holding his arms loose around Bruce's neck, he thrusts two more times into Bruce's perfect hand and then comes. Thick spatters of come against Bruce's chest, down the man's fingers, onto his own body with how his cock is arched that way, twitching helplessly in the rough texture of Bruce's grip. Tim doesn't shout, instead his lips are merely parted and nothing really comes out except a sigh of gratitude.
The other men hadn't known what to do with Tim, how to give him what he needed. The pain was fine, good even, but it's nothing compared to the emotional toll being with Bruce takes on him. Like being wrung dry.
When it's over, Tim sags against Bruce, face buried against his shoulder as he pants and tries to catch his breath.
no subject
They'd have to get up soon enough, but for now, Bruce just wants to hold Tim for a moment longer.
"Feeling better?"