Part of the reason Blake even entertained the idea of getting close to someone like Bruce had a lot to do with the give and take exhibited in moments like these. Bruce was right to tug gently, to twist the reel and bring Blake back to the moment. In doing its job, there was a marked renewal in both Blake's grip, as well as his approach.
"Good Christ, yeah," he sighed, easing more into the slow press that caused his prick to sing. Tight, but not insurmountable, and for a second he almost forgot whose ass was swallowing him like a parched mouth. "Could really, really see losin' myself, drawin' this out..."
Blake's voice crackled amidst his confession and he crawled his fingers up along Bruce's spine to tighten in his thick, dark hair. The other hand, gripped tight on the man's hip, helped guide as he wriggled thoroughly while buried as deep as he could go.
"But," he teased quietly while he tugged firmly on Bruce's hair and fucked him shallowly, "'m too greedy for seein' your face when you finally feel me come." He could sense that with most, the tension he was creating would be a lot. Then again, the body of this massively toned man had remained deceptive even as presented. For all Blake knew, he could be twisting himself into a pretzel in his spare time, all in the name of fun. And fun this was.
"Tell me what you want, babe," he growled low, keeping that pace and depth achingly steady and not nearly enough. "Tell me how you need it and I'll fuck you just right..."
It would have been easy to lie and say Bruce had done this for appearances alone. Throwing copious amounts of money at charity events would always look good when his name was on the checks. And he'd become somewhat adept at setting emotion aside for the greater good. But it would be just that โ a lie. A clever one that he has gotten better at telling the more he did it. But a lie all the same. Because the truth was, he liked Blake. And not in that shallow, vapid way he was expected to in his social circle. It was a genuine kind of caring that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed like a nerve ending. It made what they're doing easy and difficult all at once. Because Bruce wanted nothing more than to feel that closeness, but it also felt like it might overwhelm him if he let it and he wanted to push it away. It's a paradox that would tear him in two if he wasn't careful.
Those fingers in his hair dragged him back, that dull pain tugging his scalp a heady mixture of pleasure and pain. Just enough that he doesn't lose himself. Just enough that he stayed here with Blake. Exactly where he wanted to be. And it was dangerous here.
He took a few breaths, one after each shallow thrust and God it doesn't feel like it's enough. Or maybe it's too much and he can't tell the difference. Either way, he wanted more. Fingers curled into the sheets under him, fit to tear them apart if he wasn't careful.
โHarder.โ
The voice he answered with doesn't sound like Bruce. He's pulled it from a deep, coarse place, where the air is a little thinner and he has to work to make sure he has enough. Bruce reached a hand up to trace along Blake's neck, like he's checking his pulse so he could feel it racing against his massive palm.
The hammering heartbeat beneath Bruce's hand had little to do with the effort, although the restraint of holding back certainly added heft to Blake's steady beats. Few people could make him feel simultaneously powerful and powerless, but with Bruce's aid, he'd found that line and was eager to ride it, to trace its length for as long as he could, keeping that delicate balance between them.
"Yeah, okay," he agreed, although in saying as much, it still didn't alter his approach. Instead, his fingers loosened their grip on the other man to trail against Bruce's arm, an almost too gentle response to the previously made assurance to give what might be asked of him. All part of the promise, though, and in dropping that touchstone between them a moment later, he redoubled his efforts.
Bruce had said harder, but he'd asked for slow as well. Both times he'd proclaimed wanting to really feel it, and Blake understood the request to mean exactly that. At face value, it meant he thrusted hard, bottoming out with a slap of their flesh coming together. But his retreat was the absolute slowest he could muster, almost unsheathed to the head before plunging back with the same force as before.
It took only a cursory glance into that mirror before Blake was forced to close his eyes, overpowered by the sudden realization that he was absolutely pounding one of the most powerful men in the entire world. Funny thing was, he just saw another Gothamite most of the time โ another orphan, another touch-starved guy who felt, like Blake, that fucking like feral beasts just because wasn't as gauche as most people pretended.
His grunts followed along with every pump into Bruce, and it wasn't long until even the slow pull back wasn't nearly as slow as it started.
"Fuck, yes, fuck," Blake muttered, voice shot through with air. Head tossed back, sheened in sweat, he very much was enjoying Bruce, enjoying himself, enjoying himself enjoying Bruce...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theknightshift) wrote2024-11-12 08:56 pm
no subject
"Good Christ, yeah," he sighed, easing more into the slow press that caused his prick to sing. Tight, but not insurmountable, and for a second he almost forgot whose ass was swallowing him like a parched mouth. "Could really, really see losin' myself, drawin' this out..."
Blake's voice crackled amidst his confession and he crawled his fingers up along Bruce's spine to tighten in his thick, dark hair. The other hand, gripped tight on the man's hip, helped guide as he wriggled thoroughly while buried as deep as he could go.
"But," he teased quietly while he tugged firmly on Bruce's hair and fucked him shallowly, "'m too greedy for seein' your face when you finally feel me come." He could sense that with most, the tension he was creating would be a lot. Then again, the body of this massively toned man had remained deceptive even as presented. For all Blake knew, he could be twisting himself into a pretzel in his spare time, all in the name of fun. And fun this was.
"Tell me what you want, babe," he growled low, keeping that pace and depth achingly steady and not nearly enough. "Tell me how you need it and I'll fuck you just right..."
no subject
Those fingers in his hair dragged him back, that dull pain tugging his scalp a heady mixture of pleasure and pain. Just enough that he doesn't lose himself. Just enough that he stayed here with Blake. Exactly where he wanted to be. And it was dangerous here.
He took a few breaths, one after each shallow thrust and God it doesn't feel like it's enough. Or maybe it's too much and he can't tell the difference. Either way, he wanted more. Fingers curled into the sheets under him, fit to tear them apart if he wasn't careful.
โHarder.โ
The voice he answered with doesn't sound like Bruce. He's pulled it from a deep, coarse place, where the air is a little thinner and he has to work to make sure he has enough. Bruce reached a hand up to trace along Blake's neck, like he's checking his pulse so he could feel it racing against his massive palm.
"Show me. Let me feel it."
lmk if you'd rather do something fresher~
"Yeah, okay," he agreed, although in saying as much, it still didn't alter his approach. Instead, his fingers loosened their grip on the other man to trail against Bruce's arm, an almost too gentle response to the previously made assurance to give what might be asked of him. All part of the promise, though, and in dropping that touchstone between them a moment later, he redoubled his efforts.
Bruce had said harder, but he'd asked for slow as well. Both times he'd proclaimed wanting to really feel it, and Blake understood the request to mean exactly that. At face value, it meant he thrusted hard, bottoming out with a slap of their flesh coming together. But his retreat was the absolute slowest he could muster, almost unsheathed to the head before plunging back with the same force as before.
It took only a cursory glance into that mirror before Blake was forced to close his eyes, overpowered by the sudden realization that he was absolutely pounding one of the most powerful men in the entire world. Funny thing was, he just saw another Gothamite most of the time โ another orphan, another touch-starved guy who felt, like Blake, that fucking like feral beasts just because wasn't as gauche as most people pretended.
His grunts followed along with every pump into Bruce, and it wasn't long until even the slow pull back wasn't nearly as slow as it started.
"Fuck, yes, fuck," Blake muttered, voice shot through with air. Head tossed back, sheened in sweat, he very much was enjoying Bruce, enjoying himself, enjoying himself enjoying Bruce...