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 – 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){kind=small}
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 – 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...