theknightshift | open post (nsfw)

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CODE BY TESSISAMESS

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After a point, the access would become reliably moot. Blake knew that the animalistic nature of man could bring about a disconnect and understanding how a person's sexual drives slotted together with their personal goals took a lot more time and work than he'd been allowed. He could get an idea, sure, but he knew just as well that there were plenty of people who used physical intimacy as an escape.

"Generous," Blake murmured. He sat up to allow Bruce access and helped along the way, popping open buttons in congruence. Shoulders rolling, he dripped the fine tuxedo shirt from himself but argued with the wrists before flinging it away. "That mean you wanna see me when I get off?"

He lifted himself from Bruce to work his own trousers, shifting them down his hips as far as they'd go. The dark fabric hid the dampness well, but as Blake drew out his cock and gave it a performative stroke, it was already glistening at the tip with precum. The rest of him was representative of hard work, but not so much that he'd turned to nothing but muscle. There was still a thin layer of body fat in places, but he clearly worked everything pretty equally instead of focusing on one particular part of himself. It also allowed him to maintain a decent level of flexibility which sparked a reminder as he stretched long and lean above this arguably gorgeous, artistically proportioned, incredibly interesting individual.

His eyes were dark with desire — nearly black from his deep brown irises and pupils blown with need — and Blake's grin turned wicked as he pumped himself and in tandem raked his other palm firmly over Bruce's dick. "Might have to put your knees around your ears unless you've got a mirror handy."

"Yeah. Your face."

It isn't even so much the act itself that got Bruce going, though it certainly helped. It's watching the way his partner came apart at the seams, especially if they were as carefully stitched as Bruce's. And, distantly, it gave Bruce a sense of control over the situation. He was always trying to bend the world and the people around him to fit into the rules he'd made. He liked when they fit, when they don't push back and accepted being maneuvered into place. Letting his partner come first gave him the advantage, even if it's not something he'd admit to. Or maybe he's not even fully aware that's what he was doing. Especially now that he was with someone he likes.

Bruce missed the warm press of Blake's body as he pulled away, but appreciated the view, eyes roaming over the smooth, clean planes of muscle. He saved Blake's cock for last, admiring the length and girth of it. He wanted to touch it, but settled for running a hand along Blake's arm instead. He was still pliable in areas Bruce was solid muscle - a necessity born out of a need to make the Bat as intimidating as possible. For everyone else that asked, it was just how he liked to idle the hours away.

There was a hitch in his breathing, a subtle heave of his chest when Blake palmed over his erection. Bruce shut his eyes as he felt a warm jolt of pleasure up to the roots of his hair. He pushed himself up a bit to point at the mirror on a swivel base. "It can be angled toward the bed, if you're interested." He returned Blake's wicked grin with a kiss, brief and warm.

The suggestion paired with Bruce's devilish grin is echoed in Blake as he chased after that kiss, although not for long. "Mm, I like the way you think," he noted, patting Bruce's cheek twice before dropping back and going about his planning.

He eyed the mirror and then the bed, comfortable enough in his own skin to be walking around fairly unabashed. Blake wasn't a show-off, but he did exhibit an awful lot of the stereotypical traits of both an only child and an orphan. He liked attention, but only on his terms; otherwise the body was just a thing everyone had, and for most of the years it mattered, he shared open living spaces with other boys who didn't care. To say this was natural for him wouldn't fit the bill — he didn't strut naked even in his own apartment — but to suggest it might be simply for Bruce's pleasure wouldn't have been refuted.

The mirror was turned just so, with Blake checking the angle before sauntering his way back towards the bed, easily stroking himself dry. He was particular enough to keep himself clean and neatly trimmed, although he was circumcised like the majority of guys in his particular age, religious, and ethnic group, so it didn't exactly get people out there singing praises. Nevertheless, he'd heard no complaints and had none of his own, miraculously enough, so his approach was fairly filled with confidence.

Stopping by his bag, he dug for his provisions and palmed the condom wrapper before crawling across the bed on hands and knees towards his companion.

"Want me to work you up?" He asked because some people were particular, and some people were masochists, and for Blake's part he fit somewhere in the middle. Nosing into Bruce's space, he lowers his voice and whispered close to the other man's ear. "Leave it to me, I'll be forced to take it slow."

There was something about Blake's confidence that Bruce enjoyed. In some ways he could see how similar it made them - comfortable in how they moved in the world. Only children who knew how to command attention when they wanted it and how to disappear from it just as easily. He never thought of Blake as the type to brag about anything. Too down to earth for that kind of bravado. But Bruce could still sense that quiet kind of confidence. Not just here, but in how Blake carried himself and how he listened more than he spoke. He knew who he was and did not need anyone else to validate that for him.

Bruce respected that about him. Maybe even envied it a little.

Because for all his carefully cultivated mystique, there were parts of him that still felt unmoored. Parts that existed outside of the Bat that felt nebulous and uncertain, like he'd lose them if he wasn't careful. Blake didn't seem to have that uncertainty. He was grounded in a way Bruce had never seemed to achieve. It was part of what made him attractive.

It also helped that Blake was absolutely gorgeous to look at. Bruce admired him too, unabashedly while he waited for him to return. He reached for him as he crawled across the bed, hands spreading out over his arms and up his shoulders, urging him to get close. Bruce smiles at what's whispered into his ear. "You mean you weren't trying before," he replied, a teasing edge to his voice. "You took your sweet time getting back over here." He leaned up, pressing a kiss against Blake's throat and up along his jaw.

"Take your time, if you think you've got the patience for it."

The confidence in this particular space was well-earned, but elsewhere Blake felt very much like a faker. With his clothes off and his body humming with desire, especially in a one-on-one setting where he was generating the majority of the attention given, he felt very at ease. Where Bruce reached with his hands or his lips, Blake opened up like an invitation, too, giving access in heaps. He folded and slithered around Bruce, finding the places where they fit together unexpectedly, and enjoying the sensations brought about by an active partner. Probably his favorite kind, for purposes that always seemed to stem from his own desire to be chronically underestimated.

"We've gone this long, yeah?" he responded, his skin flushed beyond Bruce's lips. Basking for a moment, he allowed the man access long enough to use his own, petting through the dark hair and thrilled to find Bruce prickling with sweat at the hairline just the same as him. Not so collected, he thought, which only favored the moment as far as he was concerned.

Purposefulness had him popping the cap on the lube and gathering it onto his fingers with a dexterous one-handed maneuver, quick to smear, warm, and apply readily as his free hand held Bruce close. He found himself rutting against Bruce, too, a rocking motion that ripped little, low grumbles from Blake's throat at an unpredictable tempo.

"Maybe next time you could be ready for me." His grin was unrepentant and he felt himself turning near-blistering at the idea of Bruce Wayne wriggling in his chair, plugged up and anticipating the moment he was free to be taken. "Then I can take time on other things..." Practically salivating, he went about with those teasing fingers, focused as much on petting out pleasure with his exploration as he was on making way for his achingly interested dick. If he could have a third hand at the moment, he'd consider taking it, because the further he found himself from Bruce's own dick, the hungrier and more desperate he became.

Bruce loved the way Blake opened up for him and he followed through, searching his smooth expanse of skin with his mouth and a hint of his teeth and tongue. It's a fight not to push it farther, to follow someone else's lead when Bruce was usually the guiding force for these kinds of interactions. It felt a little like going against his nature – trusting someone enough to let them maneuver and take charge.

He wasn't the kind of person to ever take that leap of faith without a safety net. His contingencies had contingencies. It had always been true about relationships too. He would always try to find a way out, when things inevitably went sideways. It was true of Blake too, but Bruce found himself hoping things could stay like this – playful and warm and intimate. Like this. No expectations. Just them being together. He liked that.

His legs spread wide to make room for Blake as he moved, hips rocking against his own and a groan rumbles from some deep place in him.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He returned that smile, wicked in its own right as he reached between them to give Blake a lazy stroke or two. “Thinking about me in my board meeting ready for you?” Bruce leaned up to graze a kiss against Blake's jaw, before he falls back again, breath catching at feeling Blake's exploring fingers. He's hard, painfully so and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock. Not jerking off, but just touching himself to keep himself grounded in the moment.

The hum brought forth at Bruce's questions coincided with the curl of Blake's lips into something all too knowing. He practically beamed at the attention afforded to him. This felt expensive for reasons well outside of money, and he knew occupying this man's mind was worth every effort; what Blake would give, Bruce would certainly return in-kind.

Nevertheless, denying that he was robbed of breath as easily as answers when Bruce went fondling around would be pointless. His little gasp was impossible to hide and he was forced to bite it back behind his bottom lip where it turned into more determination. He redoubled his efforts, focused on how tight he imagined Bruce would be, and wondering whether he'd even need more of a reminder than what Blake was about to do to him.

"Thinkin' 'bout you thinkin' 'bout me does have a, ah— a real fuckin' appeal," he noted with little shame. It stirred within him an even deeper desire to see Bruce far separated from a moment — any moment — by memories generated specifically towards making him feel good. They might never share domestic bliss, or the camaraderie of a proper working relationship, but near as Blake could figure — had ever figured — a functioning sexual arrangement filled a lot of holes. Pun intended.

As if to help prove his point, he more fervently curled a finger towards the other man's prostate, making demands of Bruce's body while dipping down to put his mouth to good use before it could turn predictably filthy.

In tandem, he mouthed greedily at the other man's sack, sparing some occasional suction that helped lift it out of the way for the careful introduction of a second finger. He doubted Bruce would allow for an excruciatingly long tease, but that suited him because he already felt fit to burst all on his own.

Breathing hotly over the spit-slathered canvas, he hummed, "You tell me when you're ready to turn, 'cause otherwise..." Not that he minds. Rather, he probably wouldn't stop, at least not until he'd eked out every orgasm he could from Bruce, so eager with his mouth and hands he barely spared the time for the suggestion before he was lapping a long line from scrotum to tip. Sucking the head, he struggled to artfully swallow around Bruce, the gulping noise immediately followed with a groan he'd failed to suppress. There was something so goddamn sexy about driving someone to that peak — something Blake craved for the satisfaction of it as much for his own derived pleasure.

For a minute, Bruce forgot how to breathe. It's just a moment and would soon be forgotten in favor of savoring the pleasure of Blake opening him up. But when he's caught in it, it felt like it lasted forever and if he died like this well, there were worst ways to go. It happened the second he felt Blake's finger slide into him, pinning that burst of air to his lungs. Until it burned and Bruce exhaled in a long, slow drag.

It was a feeling he wasn't used to, but it wasn't a bad one. Just new and one more thing he'd learn how to navigate. At least it was with someone who Bruce could almost trust. Enough not to use this vulnerable moment against him anyway.

It helped him to relax, the expert way Blake used his mouth and tongue and how it felt like he was unraveling all of the perfect control. Like he knew all of the right ways to get Bruce to open up and allow himself a chance to feel something other than that all consuming obsession with the Mission. Logically, he knew Blake had no way of knowing the impact he was truly having right then. But lust was a helluva drug.

As greedy as Blake is, Bruce was too. Eager to see his tip disappear into the warm wetness of Blake's mouth. It's perfect. It's too perfect and if Bruce had been anyone else – untrained, undisciplined – he would have came right then and there. But he could pace himself, will that orgasm down for just a little while longer. It doesn't stop that low, rumble of a groan. Born somewhere deep. Almost Batman, but not quite.

He offered Blake another shameless smile, hips rocking against his fingers. “Are you going to fuck me or tease me to death?”

The question pulled the essence of a chuckle from Blake, but it far contrasted the goosebumps raised across his body from Bruce's low growl. For Blake, that enticed reaction was all he needed to know he was making an impression. Despite being orphaned at a young age, he still somehow retained the bratty throughline that craved to be the positive pinpoint at the center of someone's attention. Together with Bruce, it didn't feel quite so blinding a spotlight — more a warmth that spread across his skin, one that reminded him of sitting close to the heater vent on a cold winter day.

"Honestly hadn't decided," he sighed, as if he held a hand of cards he didn't feel much like folding. But he relented nonetheless, and carefully extracted himself to steal a brief nipping kiss before patting Bruce's thigh. Post up.

Meanwhile, he busied himself with the practicalities, rolling on the condom when he finally shifted to where their reflection would be most visible. "C'mere before I make a joke 'bout a 'stay of ejaculation'."

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.”

Edited 2025-07-02 03:40 (UTC)

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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