Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9063208.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supersons, Super_Sons, DCU_(Comics), Robin_(Comics), Superman_(Comics),
      DC_Rebirth_-_Fandom, Superboy_(Comics), Batman_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Jonathan_Kent/Damian_Wayne, Damian_Wayne/Jonathan_Smith, Damian_Wayne/
      Jonathan_Kent
  Character:
      Damian_Wayne, Jonathan_Kent, Jonathan_Smith, Jonathan_I'm-not-really-
      sure-what-their-surname-is-now-but-he's-superman's-son
  Additional Tags:
      Christmas, Holiday_Special, boy_on_boy_fluff, Yaoi, NSFW, Super_Sons_-
      Freeform, Underage_-_Freeform, underage_boning
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-26 Words: 4162
****** A Super Christmas Present: A Damian x Jon holiday fic ******
by gmartinez12
Summary
     Synopsis: This story directly follows after this scene in the DC
     Rebirth Holiday Special issue.
      
                       [http://i.imgur.com/KJ9n4IMl.jpg]
[http://i.imgur.com/qtS5hNOl.jpg]
 
Basically this is the requisite smut that definitely followed, lol.
Notes
                                        
                                        
                       [http://i.imgur.com/HaHZrImh.png]
See the end of the work for more notes
Damian liked to call it ‘strategic training’. Jon liked to call it ‘the game
console I’ve wanted more than anything in the world’. Whatever the Monk-E-
Monsters gaming console was to the two boys, there was one thing that was clear
in Damian’s mind—game or not, this was a competition, and it was one that he
intended to win.
“It’s over!”
The screen flashed several times as a huge gorilla clad in red and yellow armor
executed a series of stylish and brutal punches on another gorilla with a red
cape. The beat down ended with an enormous explosion complemented by a somber
orchestral piece.
“Aw, a special finisher?” Jon gasped as the words ‘Player 2 wins!’ dominated
the screen. “Damian, how’d you pull that off? We only just started playing a
while ago!”
Damian clicked his tongue in his usual condescending manner and replied,
“Sorry, hayseed. Victory is reserved for those who prepare before fighting.”
“Damiaaaan . . . !” Jon pouted at the boast.
“All right, all right!” the older boy conceded once Jon began tugging at his
neatly-pressed coat. Damian casually pulled out a small booklet from underneath
his leg—he’d been apparently sitting on it the whole time that he and Jon were
playing.
“I read the game manual while you were busy setting up the system. They have
simple instructions on how to do finishers.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.” Jon pouted some more. “You should have let me read it,
too!” He tried to reach for the booklet but Damian kept it out of his reach.
“You seemed too focused on the game to bother checking the rest of the box, so
I figured you wouldn’t mind if I forgot to mention there were instructions,”
Damian teased with a smug grin. He put his hand on Jon’s forehead while the
other held the booklet away from the younger boy.
“Gimme that booklet, shorty!”
“Try me, super brat!”
When they had first met, Damian Wayne and Jonathan Smith were not friends at
first sight. They’d fight, bicker and argue, much to the chagrin of their
fathers. It was a difficult arrangement considering that Batman and Superman
worked closely together, and the need for their respective sons to cooperate
with each other was doubly important. It had taken a lot of effort from their
fathers (and they’d thought that it was all but impossible), but Damian and Jon
slowly replaced the batarangs with stiff courtesy and the laser eye blasts with
non-hostile handshakes. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Now, Robin—the trained assassin and feared crime fighter—and Superboy—the son
of Superman and the strongest boy in the world—were rolling on the floor
fighting for a loosely-stapled bunch of colored paper.
But unlike the kind of fighting that the two of them had when they’d first met,
this time was rather different. Jon would try to reach for the booklet but
Damian put his hand on Jon’s face and pushed him away.  In retaliation, Jon
licked Damian’s palm, earning him a disgusted “eugh!” from Damian. Somewhere in
the lighthearted scuffle, the booklet lay dropped and forgotten, and all that
was left were the grunting and panting of the two young superheroes as they
tried to wrestle each other. Of course, Jon didn’t use his super strength. He
knew that would be cheating.
After untangling their limbs from each other, both boys lay side by side on the
carpet, a smile (a smirk in Damian’s case) on their faces. They lay panting for
a few seconds before Jon broke the silence.
“What time do you have to leave, Damian?"
“I might have just an hour left. Father and I still have to do patrols. Theft
in Gotham is especially rampant during Christmas.” Damian’s eyes subtly drifted
to the side, as if a part of him wished that he didn’t have to do those
patrols.
“Oh, okay . . .” Jon replied a bit disappointedly. “They’ve been gone a while,
haven’t they?” Jon gestured at the window.
“Yes . . . I don’t suppose you can tell me where our fathers are?” Damian
asked. “I would’ve expected mine to remind me that we still have criminals to
apprehend.”
“I don’t have X-ray vision yet,” Jon grumbled apologetically. “I can just see
really far.”
“Can’t be helped then, can it, hayseed?” Damian scoffed. But after seeing Jon’s
crestfallen look, he quickly added, “It’s okay, you’re still learning how to
use your powers and I’m sure you’ll get it eventually. Just as I’m sure that
you’ll beat me at this . . . eventually.” He picked up the controller again and
offered it to Jon.
The younger boy instantly perked up and took the controller with a glowing
look. But then, his brows furrowed. “How am I ever going to make this up to
you, Damian? Getting me Monk-E-Monstersis too huge. I can’t top that!”
“My father and I, uh, appreciate the sweaters you gave us,” Damian said as
tactfully as he could.
“Hmm . . . ” A thoughtful look crossed Jon’s face and a few seconds later, his
eyes lit up with barely concealed excitement. He abruptly stood up and grabbed
Damian’s hand, dragging the older boy with him.
“Hey, what’s with you all of a sudden?” Damian huffed irritably.
“Just trust me, Damian! I’ve got an idea for your present, but we need to be in
my room.”
“Fine. This better be worth it.”
Jon excitedly flung his bedroom door open and ushered Damian inside. He then
locked it carefully, earning him a raised eyebrow from Damian.
“Explain yourself, Jon,” Damian commanded.
“Close your eyes, Damian! You want your present, don’t ya?”
Damian clicked his tongue but closed his eyes anyway. Even the Son of Batman
likes getting presents.
“Hold still, okay?”
Damian obeyed. And a moment later, something decidedly wet and soft pressed
itself against his lips. He opened his eyes in surprise only to see that
Jon—Superboy—was kissing him. Damian’s sheer surprise kept him from having a
more animated response to being kissed by his ten-year-old friend.
Jon pulled off, his cheeks slightly redder than before and his eyes excitedly
focused on Damian’s face.
“So, how was it?” he asked.
Damian blinked a few times, his eyes wider than he would’ve liked. Of all the
things that he thought that Jon would do, kissing wasn’t one of them. Jon’s
lips were so soft, so tender, and so warm. It was a kiss of genuine affection,
and if Damian was honest with himself, he had liked it a lot. But being who he
was, Damian wasn’t very good at expressing his gratitude. So he gave Jon the
only reply that came naturally to him.
He smirked.
“Well, if you wanted to surprise me, it’s not a bad try. But you could do
better.”
Jon looked crestfallen. “W—what do you mean I can do better? Kissing is
like . . . the best thing you can do to someone! It means that you love them
very much and that they mean the world to you and—“
“Who told you that?” Damian interrupted with a sneer. “Your mom?”
Jon remained silent and shuffled his feet sheepishly. It had seemed like the
answer to Damian’s question was ‘yes’, but the young superhero was too
embarrassed to say so. It was almost as if he thought that admitting it would
make him look very . . . uncool . . . to his older friend.
For Damian’s part, he knew he’d gone too far. He knew that Jon was just trying
to be nice, that the boy was just doing what he’d thought was the proper thing
to do. The kiss was a simple gesture, but the intent was far deeper than Jon
knew how to express, and Damian knew that. It wasn’t his intention to shoot
down Jon’s budding feelings. But Damian wasn’t exactly an expert when it came
to emotions. However, he was a lot more proficient in other things . . .
“It was okay.”
“What’s okay?” Jon asked, his spirits slightly higher.
“The kiss,” Damian pointed out. He put a finger to his lower lip. “It was fine.
Thanks, I guess.”
Jon was just about to smile when Damian continued, “It’s not enough, of
course.”
“What do you mean, Damian?” Jon asked with urgency. He’d really wanted the kiss
to be special, but he was mortified that he’d done something wrong.
“Come on, Jon,” Damian began while shaking his head. “You hugged me, and then
you dragged me to your room, locked the door, and then kissed me on the lips.
That’s not how you end it! You started it, so you’ve got to keep going. You
want to do it right, don’t you?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand what you mean,” Jon replied quizzically while
he scratched his head. “What else is there?”
Damian put a hand to his face and massaged his forehead. This wasn’t going like
he’d expected it to. “Do I really have to be the one to teach you these
things?”
“What things? What are you talking about? Tell me!” Jon was practically
bouncing on his heels, looking very much like an excited puppy. It was a look
that all but destroyed Damian’s reservations.
“Okay, okay!” Damian replied while resisting a very strong urge to pat Jon’s
head. “Stand still and learn how a real pro does it.”
Jon eagerly obeyed, curious what Damian would be teaching him. His intrigue
turned into a gasp of surprise as Damian grabbed his sweater, pulled him close
and firmly planted a kiss on his cheeks.
“Mmhhhm!” was all Jon could moan as Damian proceeded to nibble on his lips and
persistently jabbing his tongue at them. The feel of Damian’s tongue was such a
huge surprise to Jon that he couldn’t help but let it in his mouth—and the
moment that he did, the older boy seized the opportunity and thoroughly probed
Jon’s mouth.
The son of Superman had his father’s strength and durability on the best of
times, so much so that he’d sometimes be called the ‘boy of steel’. With
Damian’s tongue swishing inside his mouth, he rather felt more like a ‘boy of
jello’. The sensation of Damian’s strong, velvety tongue wrestling his own was
so electric, so new and exhilarating that his whole body couldn’t decide if it
wanted to feel like a marshmallow or a live wire, halfway to melting
submissively and just wildly flailing about. He couldn’t help but imitate
Damian’s ministrations, his tongue actively joining the fray and grappling with
the boy wonder’s own moist, velvety flesh.
So lost was Jon with this new and intoxicating feeling that he failed to notice
how Damian’s hands were already busy relieving him of his rather garish
sweater. Apparently, he’d unconsciously let Damian strip him from the waist
up—his jeans’ buttons already undone—and then push him on the bed. The next
thing that Jon knew was that Damian was looming over him with a satisfied grin
and a bit of slobber on his chin.
“Feeling the fun yet, farm boy?”
“Haaa . . . oh wow, Damian!” Jon gasped between breaths. “What was that?”
“That was a properkiss,” Damian said firmly. “Don’t think we’re done. You’ve
still got a lot to learn.”
“What—?” Before Jon could ask any further, Damian had easily stripped him of
his pants and undergarments, exposing his apparently partly-stiffened childish
member.
Damian was absolutely loving how red Jon’s face was when he was exposed. It was
all kinds of adorable that he couldn’t put into words. When the younger boy
tried to cover up, Damian laid a gentle hand on Jon’s own, as if to say ‘it’s
okay’. He smirked to himself and thought about how ‘gentle’ and ‘Damian’ didn’t
belong in the same sentence.
“You ever tried to find out what else your body does, Jon?” Damian asked.
“What do you mean?” Jon replied sheepishly. When Damian gave his boyhood a
pointed look, he squeaked out, “No, I don’t know what you’re trying to
say . . .”
“All the powers of a god, but all the naiveté of a ten-year-old.” Damian
sighed. He leaned down and rubbed his cheek on Jon’s developing abdomen,
earning him a surprised whimper from Jon. “You’ll have to learn eventually, and
I might as well be the one to train you. After all, if playing videogames is
‘strategic training’, then this qualifies as ‘physical training’.”
It was the last thing Damian said before he took Jon’s not-so-soft member in
his hand. And after a few seconds of deftly stimulating it with his fingers, it
grew to a very stiff four inches, together with deep and raspy breaths from
Jon. “Tsss. You’re bigger than I imagined.”
“Damian—! Wow, that feels . . . what are you doing?” Jon gasped.
“How can I put this into words you’ll easily understand . . .” Damian mused
while his hand continued stroking Jon’s rigidness. “You know how you milk cows?
Same concept, really. But this trains your muscles—and there’s scientific
evidence that links increased muscle development to masturbation during puberty
and—“
“Nghhhh . . .” Jon whimpered as his body loosened up and submitted itself fully
under Damian’s careful ministrations. His legs were spread apart, as if
inviting Damian to do more. His chest was heaving like he was struggling to
breathe underwater. His toes curled in his socks after every other stroke. It
was the cutest thing that Damian had ever seen.
Damian, shook his head, more amused than anything. “What’s the point of me
explaining it to you. This is probably flying over your head. Might as well get
on with it. Watch and learn, farm boy.”
And with that, he leaned down and kissed Jon’s tip, and then engulfed three-
quarters of it in his mouth.
Jon wanted to gasp, to moan and maybe even to shriek. He wanted to shout as
loud as he could, or laugh until he squeaked. But he knew he couldn’t so he
opted to cover his mouth in anticipation of all the random noises that were
coming out of it. Such was the effect of Damian’s warm, moist mouth on his
impossibly hard member. Damian was sucking, playfully nibbling, licking and
kissing, almost as if all at the same time. It was all that Jon could do to
stay conscious after the overwhelming explosion of feeling from his groin.
“Ngghhh! Damian! Uhhh . . .” Jon moaned between ragged breaths.
Damian relented on his oral assault long enough to say, “Try to keep it down,
won’t you? You wouldn’t want our fathers to come spoil our training right now.”
He then resumed his suction, taking in Jon’s whole boyhood into his mouth to
the root, lapping at it with his tongue from inside his mouth and teasing the
sensitive and exposed slit.
Jon was rocking on the bed now, one hand on his mouth and another gripping the
sheets. His body glistened with boyish sweat as Damian continued taking him to
new pleasurable heights with each passing second. The wet, slurping noises
coming from Damian’s mouth were adding to Jon’s already-heightened state of
euphoria. His mind wanted to shout out, something along the lines of “Damian is
sucking me! He’s really doing it! Oh my god, it feels incredible!”
When Jon began not-so-subtly thrusting his hips at Damian’s face, the barely-
teenaged boy knew that his friend was close. He gave Jon one big final suck,
and then eased his mouth off until only the tip remained in his mouth. He used
his free hand to stroke the exposed part of Jon’s length while his tongue was
busy licking the head for all it was worth.
It was a sudden burst when it happened. Jon’s vision became hazy, his super-
senses had almost shut-off, and his body was wracked with indescribable
waves—torrents, really—of pleasure. He raised his torso off the head and
reflexively grabbed Damian’s head—much to the teen’s surprise—as he tried to
keep the hot, sucking mouth on his over-stimulated boyhood. Not a moment
sooner, his stiffness erupted in dry spasms inside Damian’s mouth, rubbing
against the older boy’s tongue, before subsiding with a blissful afterglow. Jon
collapsed on the bed, sweating, panting, and feeling like he’d just run across
the globe and back—twice.
Damian allowed his young friend to recuperate as he wiped his mouth. “Right,
he’s still dry.” Damian remarked, mostly to himself because Jon was still
dazed, probably still lost to pleasure.
Like clockwork, Damian undid his own lower garments, and then climbed on the
bed himself, lying next to Jon with his own stiff member proudly on display. He
was slightly regretting how disheveled he now looked compared to his crisp and
clean image from thirty minutes before. His tie was undone, his coat lay
crumpled on the floor and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned. He’d rather not
tell Alfred how the hairstyle that the butler had meticulously created for him
was now a spiky, sweaty mess.
Jon was vaguely aware that Damian was now lying beside him, and only barely
registered that Damian’s hand had grabbed his own and led him to grasp a hot
and hard appendage that he could only guess belonged to his teenage friend. Jon
gave Damian a lopsided grin as he groggily grasped the stiff rod and tugged at
it with all the grace of a ten-year-old.
“We’re not done, Jon, there’s still one last lesson,” Damian cooed in Jon’s
ear.
Jon sat up straight and nodded, all the while trying to stroke Damian the same
way that the older boy was doing him again. It only took Damian a few strokes
to get him back to his full length, and he felt the same sort of electric
shiver go down his spine as his body craved for more of that pleasure.
“The best thing about our age is that we can do this a lot of times before we
tire out,” Damian explained while nonchalantly stroking Jon off. “That’s why
it’s great exercise. You’ll need your strength for this last bit, because it’s
my turn.”
Damian nuzzled his face against Jon’s cheeks until they were both kissing
again, and this time, Jon was actively joining in. Meanwhile, Damian’s other
hand caressed Jon’s boyish sack, and then rubbed lower to his young rosebud.
Jon yelped and instinctively raised his hips, inadvertently allowing Damian
more access to his hole. Jon felt the finger wiggle, rub and poke inside him,
until it was an inch of the way through. It was definitely a different feeling,
one that he needed a few seconds to get used to, but it was one that he
definitely liked.
Damian stopped stroking Jon to lead the younger boy’s hand to his own hole, and
they spent the next few seconds probing each other’s most hidden orifice, with
Damian snuggling his nose against Jon’s neck. The smell of their boyish
explorations had already filled the space around them, and the heat, sweat and
euphoria became so intoxicating that they both increased the intensity of their
finger-penetration without so much as a word between them. When Jon began
thrusting his hips and rubbing his length on Damian, he knew it was time.
“Sit up,” Damian commanded.
Jon obeyed, and he was greeted with the sight of Damian’s backside, with his
friend’s hole almost winking at him.
“Put it in,” Damian ordered.
“In—in there?” Jon gasped. It was more out of surprise than anything. But if
there was one thing that he’d learned tonight, it was that Damian was full of
surprises.
“This is how it’s done, hayseed. What do you think were our fingers for?
Putting it in is the next step. I know you want it. I can see that you want it.
I have to admit that yours is bigger than mine, but now it’s time that you
prove it.” Damian tried his best to still sound like he was in control. But a
tiny bit of him was already begging.
Jon looked down at his twitching member—Damian was right. He wanted it, and he
wanted it badly. In fact, he thought that Damian sounded like he wanted it just
as badly. Jon grinned like a child unwrapping his presents as he regarded
Damian—asscheeks parted and waiting, hole, ready and willing, still wearing his
green shirt and his tie barely hanging on as it dangled from his neck. It was
the most perfect invitation that Jon had ever seen. With no further hesitation,
he positioned himself on his knees behind Damian, and eased himself inside a
new, wondrous world of pleasure.
Inch by every hard inch, Damian felt Jon slowly entering him. He could feel the
shape of it filling him up, and his muscles clenched and loosened in rhythm to
accommodate it. Their combined heat was intense and the feeling of their
joining so perfect and powerfully firm, that both boys just naturally began
losing themselves in the moment. Damian gripped the sheets with all his might
as he steadied himself, while Jon thrust his hips, slowly at first, but
steadily getting faster with each push.
Jon was wondering if this was what being actually crazy was like. He was hardly
in control of his body and his mind was solely focused on getting more of that
pleasure, more of that feeling. And if it meant thrusting into Damian, letting
his rock hard boyhood dig into Damian’s oh-so-soft but firm walls of flesh, he
would do it no matter what it takes, as many times as he needed, forever if he
had to. He needed to be inside Damian, he needed the warmth, the grip, the
pleasure. He wanted it and he needed it. In that moment, Damian was his whole
world.
As Robin, Damian reveled in physical exertion. Jon mounting him was no
different. His lust for getting physical mixed with regular boyish lust mixed
to create an overpowering concoction of desire that he wanted more of. He
tightened his hole to grip Jon’s member as firmly as he could, giving both of
them a surge of ecstasy. Damian wanted more. And more. And then some more. He
exhaled throaty breaths and audible gasps that just added to the lewdness of
the insanely arousing atmosphere of sex in the room.
“Harder!” Damian demanded. “Push it in more, Jon!”
“I am, Damian, I’m giving you all I’ve got!”
“No you’re not,” Damian teased through raspy breaths. “Don’t hold back. I want
you, Jon. I want you.”
The inexplicably sexy way that Damian had said those last words drove Jon to
the edge. He thrust with more than what a boy could muster. He pounded Damian
not as a ten-year-old, but as Superboy.
Just as he’d planned, Damian felt Jon’s thrusts become more frantic, more
vigorous and . . . harder. He’d already known that Jon’s powers manifested
depending on his state of mind. Damian wanted to see it, to feel it, to
experience the boy of steel’s famed durability. And as he felt Jon’s member
inside him swell ever so slightly, but harden impossibly with a consistency
more akin to metal, he knew that he’d succeeded. Damian gasped in triumph as
Jon penetrated him with all the force of his heroic moniker.
It happened in an instant. Jon reached his limit and thrust into Damian with
inhuman speed and strength, allowing his member to rub against Damian’s most
sensitive spot. Both boys grunted in unison, trying to retain consciousness as
an inexorable tide of pleasure washed over them with the force of an intense
hurricane. They’d both reached their climax almost at the same time—perhaps the
best way to affirm the budding friendship that they have.
It could have been seconds, or hours, or days, neither of them cared. Both of
them lay collapsed on the bed, just listening to each other’s soft breathing.
Their limbs were a tangled mess—Damian’s leg was draped over Jon, who was
resting his head on Damian’s arm—and it was perfect.
For the first time in his life, Damian had enjoyed Christmas. For the first
time in Jon’s life, he had enjoyed Christmas with a friend.
Just then, Damian wondered how it was that neither of their fathers were
looking for them. He slapped his forehead when he remembered that Jon’s dad
possessed super-hearing and x-ray vision, and would have seen them cavorting at
any time.
He put on his pants and whispered his intent to the still-dazed Jon, and then
went outside the room to look for their fathers. A closed door at the far end
of the hall drew Damian’s attention, mostly because he swore that he could hear
something creaking. Like bed springs.
He tiptoed to the door and silently unlocked it with a hairpin hidden in his
breast pocket. What he saw inside made him cover his mouth in surprise and he
almost ran—quietly—back to Jon’s room.
No doubt that Jon would have a laugh, or a shock, or both, to know that Batman
and Superman were consummating their partnership in the same way that their
sons had.
 
                                     -end-
 
 
End Notes
     This is my first Damian x Jon fic. I hope you enjoy! I worked real
     hard for it and it's supposed to be a holiday fic. I'd love to hear
     your comments and stuff :D I just love these two so much!
     Also, seriously, if you read those comic panels, Bruce and Clark
     totally fucked. There's no other way that their final scene makes
     sense.
      
     [http://i.imgur.com/L4gWhtfh.jpg]
      
      
     A Supersons Christmas
      
     On this merry night it can be found
     Two young heroes with nary a sound
     A robin with his limber arms were bound
     To a boy of steel’s loins like a hound
     They both had very satisfied grins
     With a bit of slobber on their chins
     They explored each other with such vim
     With hushed giggles and hardly any din
     There were no capes nor suits on that night
     No villains or enemies to catch, beat and fight
     Just two super sons loving with all their might
     A display of boyhood that made quite the sight
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