Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8561344.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Jason_Todd, Clark_Kent/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Jason_Todd, Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne, Clark_Kent
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Accidental_Voyeurism, Frottage, Humor
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-07 Words: 5397
****** Kitchen Counters are Terrible Hiding Places ******
by Emanium
Summary
     Jason sneaks over-sized turkeys into the Manor for Thanksgiving, and
     Dick’s only there because Alfred has the best chocolate chip cookies
     to offer. Neither of them expected to bump into Clark and Bruce
     getting it off over the kitchen counter.
Notes
     This was originally posted under a secondary account with the
     intention of keeping my AO3 more organized-- sadly both accounts are
     getting more jumbled lately. Now I'm just merging fics under this
     primary account. (When you see me doing dumb shtuff like this you can
     be sure my projects IRL are over.)
"What's that?" Dick peered at the bloated bag in Jason's hand.
Jason glared back. "An overgrown chicken."
A throaty moan sounded above their heads. Dick shoved his fingers so deep into
his ears that Jason thought he'd punctured his ear drums. He waited the
disturbance out, then cautiously he planted his palms on his knees. Elbowing
Jason lightly in the ribs again, he whispered, "Come again?"
Jason rolled his eyes. He unzipped a corner, allowing a whiff to escape.
"Thanksgiving turkey. You actually thought Alfred got that oversized beast from
the local supermarket?" At Dick's hesitant pause, Jason rolled his eyes. "I'm
so underappreciated. No, it doesn't conveniently pop up on the window sill
every November. So thank the family cock shopper, Dickiebird. I've scouted it
for ages."
"For the sake of my sanity, don't." Dick wrapped his arms around his chest,
curling up into a giant meatball. He was doing his best to control his
breathing, keeping it slow and steady.
"Don't what?" Jason shot back.
Dick sent him a bitter glance. "Language."
Jason snorted. "You talk Bruce-ian now? I wasn't even swearing."
"The damage is done."
"Oh," Jason leered. "How much does Bruce pay you to be Daddy's teaching
assistant?"
"How much does Alfred pay you to do grocery shopping for family gatherings?"
Jason smirked. "He pays in favors." He took advantage of Dick's changed posture
to stretch his legs. The last thing he wanted was a muscle cramp, in case he
needed to scramble and run. With effort, he stretched his legs apart until they
formed an impressive ninety degrees. Awkward, but tolerable. At least he could
accommodate Dick the meatball with that posture.
"How are you feeling?" A familiar voice asked. The source wasn't far, but it
sounded distant behind a hanging cloth.
An equally familiar voice, sounding more breathless, replied. "Someone
drugged…"
"Lex." The man hesitated. "Could be."
"Should be." A chuckle an octave too low sounded. "This mustn't be the intended
effect."
"Do you think we should-" There was some degree of reluctance in the answering
tone. Reluctance, or restraint. Jason stood by the former.
"Sober up? Probably." Nonetheless the action continued, for the cloth swung and
grew wrinkled with their movements. The same voice sighed, "I can't tell three
out of nine alphabets on Dick's cereal box."
"Mhm."
"Jason broke the surveillance camera in the training room again."
"Yeah?"
"Third time this month-"
"Ten."
"-What?"
"Ten alphabets… Dick's cereal box."
"That's a record reaction time. I counted nine." A soft grunt of satisfaction.
Then Jason heard the sounds of rumpled clothing and metal utensils being moved
out of the way. "Save your marks for above the neckline, beneath the jaw."
The next words were muffled. "Why here?"
"Brucie could use some extra attention-" The voice grew quieter, the sentence
more fragmented. "-Batman doesn't need hickeys lining his chin."
"Makes for a good view during League meetings."
"You think?"
"Hal agrees. There's been some… speculation."
"Obviously." A short pause ensued, followed by a grunt that sounded as if it
was forced between clenched teeth. "Can't you control your strength?"
"So pain is no longer a turn on?"
"Never has been."
"I distinctly remember otherwise."
"Not in the mood." The warning tone was marred by a needy moan. "Tone it down."
The other voice drawled, "Liar."
Jason tuned out the disturbance himself, unable to eavesdrop any longer without
growing incredibly uncomfortable. He turned back to his partner with the
hunched shoulders. If Dick had resembled a meatball two seconds ago, he was now
shrinking into the size of a kernel.
"You're tiny," Jason remarked absentmindedly. "No wonder this hiding place was
such an attractive option for you."
Dick looked up, and Jason immediately backed away. The tips of their noses
would have hit had he not reacted. So close. They were breathing the same
pocket of air. It smelled like alcohol, uncooked poultry, and a faint trace of
musk. He could also discern Bruce's expensive cologne, paired with a whiff of
Alfred's favorite laundry powder.
"I'm still growing up." Dick hissed defensively, his breath warm on Jason's
chin. He flexed his arm to prove his point. A cloth was shielding their light
source, so all Jason could see was a blurry silhouette. With movement he made
out some curves, just subtle lines, carved out in dim light. Streamlined,
smooth, somewhat mesmerizing.
"Sure you are. Tell me about your impending third adolescence." Jason arched
his body away when Dick aimed a jab at his stomach. At near-zero visibility,
Dick's fist hit the turkey instead. His knuckles met with the distinctive
texture of uncooked flesh. Dick withdrew immediately, grunting in disgust.
Jason feigned a look of disapproval.
Dick breathed out in exasperation, "We're the same height."
"We won't be, at the rate I'm going." Jason flashed two rows of pearly white
teeth at Dick. The contrast against the dim background somehow made his grin
appear smugger.
"You've won the genetic lottery. So what." Dick pinched Jason's inner thigh.
Jason's spread legs made for convenient targets.
Without warning, Jason jerked backwards, hitting his head against the underside
of the counter. "Shit!" He hugged his head, cautiously rubbing the painful spot
with his palm. That would probably swell into a tower come morning.
Dick was sniggering. Restraining himself was so hard that he clamped both hands
across his mouth. But his eyes glinted of amusement. "If only Bruce gave you
vocabulary exercises like he did me."
"Then he'd be parading me like a domesticated peacock at every dinner to ward
off his admirers. Whom, judging by the state of your suit at the end of every
event, are persistent and borderline barbaric." Jason shot back. "Swearing like
a sailor saves me the trouble."
"Oh yeah? What was the state of my suit?" Dick goaded, the corners of his lips
curling up. Whether his tone was suggestive or teasing, Jason couldn't be sure.
But Dick leaned in a slight bit, brushing his legs against Jason's spread
thighs as he shifted. The air grew hotter, and Jason's heart was beating twice
as fast now.
Still, nothing rivalled the drama occurring behind the cloth hanging beside
them. Right above their heads, broadcasting in decibels triple the noise level
of their argument... Jason bit his lower lip at a particularly loud groan.
Perfect timing for him to change the topic. "I'm running out of swear words
because they've been moaning every available one since five minutes ago."
The effect was instant. Dick shut his eyes hurriedly, slapping his hands on his
face and groaning into his palms. "Thank you for that utterly unwelcome
narration," he gritted out. "And no, we are not going there. We agreed on
distracting each other until we get our out."
"Our out is never coming." Jason pulled their cloth open with a scowl,
attempting to catch a glimpse of their situation. Wrong move again. The thin
fabric hanging off one side of the kitchen counter slid off. Their protective
shield, the one thing keeping them from instant, cold-blooded murder, gone.
Just his luck.
Dick's face turned green.
"Stupid cufflink hooked onto the fabric." Jason yanked at his sleeves.
"Alfred's idea."
The blurry silhouette sharpened into cheap dress pants and a pair of brown
leather shoes. Closer still and facing away were two muscular legs dangling off
the table edge. No shoes, no socks. Just bare ankles, both showing off some
impressive scars. Dick would remember those scars anywhere. Hell, he'd
contributed to one by getting caught prematurely when he was playing bait.
"Screw subtlety." Jason scowled, massaging his calves in preparation. "Let's
just make a mad dash for the hall."
"They've locked the door on their way in." Dick reminded him. "Fingerprint
sensors. Works both directions."
"I can kick it open."
"Okay, imagine this. You land one magnificent kick on the door and it doesn't
budge. Because we both know how sturdy WayneTech products can be, and Bruce
just installed them three weeks ago." At Jason's groan, Dick cocked an eyebrow
and continued. "The alarm system goes off. Bruce hits Batman mode, hurls the
nearest knife at the door, and I watch you bleed to death on a good Friday
night. How does that fare for survival?"
"Well I'm not the one complaining about our view." Jason pointed out. "I didn't
whine 'holy shit we're trapped' and I sure wasn't the one worrying about my
billion dollar inheritance five minutes ago."
For that matter, Dick was pretty sure his concerns have escalated from being
trapped to maintaining his sanity while staring at the trembling calves before
his face. Because it was a million times harder now to play blind when the
cloth separating them from the other pair was gone. And that pair still hasn't
noticed their presence.
He could smell Bruce's cologne from there. The distinct scent of sandalwood,
from the little glass bottle hiding in Bruce's mirror cabinet. It reminded him
of foreign name brands and lengthy price tags. Bruce only wore heavier woody
colognes for evening events, and almost always he paired it with slim-fit
suits. And when Bruce flashed that billion dollar smile at Dick, while
introducing his charming ward to the party attendees, Dick sucked in his breath
and felt his cheeks warm faster than after an hour of acrobatic training. He
was going straight to hell.
"I'm damn sure I'll wake up to child abandonment papers clipped on my laundry
line." Dick mumbled back, "I'll fax you your copy."
"Oh now it's my fault." Jason rolled his eyes. "Whose idea was it to curl up in
a three by six feet slot and pray that the boss doesn't want scrambled
intestines for breakfast?"
"Sure, like firing a round at the intruders was a better idea."
"I have good reflexes."
"And not a single working brain cell, apparently." Dick snorted. "Ever thought
of a different hiding place for your handy pistols other than your bedside
drawer?" He watched Jason shrug, then he drawled, "You know, the only reason
Bruce hasn't found out is because he's respecting your privacy."
Jason glared back. "Bruce doesn't give a shit about privacy. Do surveillance
cameras ring a bell?"
"Privacy." Dick rolled his eyes and made exaggerated air quotes. "Like, for
example, he thinks you're masturbating and that drawer hides all your kinky
toys. Which by his morals mean objects that he would rather not see or know or
comment on. Parenting code. He upholds it almost as religiously as his no-gun
policy."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "You can't be serious."
"Flesh lights, dildos, anal beads. You're a big boy now, who knows what you're
up to?" Dick sniggered, giving him a somewhat sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"I must have set a pretty bad example."
"No shit, I'd rather he'd found out I had guns."
"Actually you wouldn't. Not with how he'd react." Dick shrugged. "Status
update?"
Jason poked his head out. "Still making out. No end in sight."
Dick sighed. "No end in sight." He echoed emptily, glancing at his watch.
"Three and a half minutes. I thought they'd run out of oxygen."
"They've parted and dirty talked while we were discussing my guns and your sex
toys." Jason glared back. "What are you even doing back? I'm Robin now."
"So that territorial trait's hereditary. I'm back on Alfred's invitation. Got a
month's supply of chocolate chip cookies for takeaway." Dick gestured to his
suit. "Also, in case you're illiterate, I'm wearing this now."
"What does the 'V' stand for, Little Miss Virgin?"
"It's art, you uncivilized little shit."
"Will you quit the fumbling-" The familiar voice snapped above the pair,
silencing them mid-quarrel.
"Just trying to unclasp- If you haven't noticed before, it's getting a bit
tight around my crotch." A leather belt fell to the ground, and the silvery
buckle hit the kitchen tiles with a sharp clank. Clark kicked the belt out of
his way, which was, naturally, towards the pair underneath the counter. Jason
caught it and threw it elsewhere. Clark chuckled, seemingly content after
loosening whatever restricting piece of garment he had on, "There. We're
getting somewhere."
"Why can't they actually get somewhere? How is a marble counter even
comfortable?" Jason sniffed and made a face of disgust. "The air stinks of
alcohol. And pheromones." He caught sight of an open cereal box sitting next to
the sink. "You didn't clip your bag? Your cornflakes are gonna smell funny."
"They already do. Bruce was testing chemicals in the kitchen sink last weekend.
Some flakes turned green." Dick had his fingers shoved into his ears again. He
was mumbling to himself. "Just splendid. I'll be blind by midnight."
"Not before you go deaf from poking thumb-sized holes into your eardrums."
Jason clutched Dick's wrists and clamped them down onto his lap. "Get a grip,
it's just sex."
"What do you know about sex? You're just a kid."
"Apparently not even Bruce thinks that's true." Jason winced as Bruce made a
noise that sounded vaguely like an agreement.
"Shit." Dick swallowed hard, his face blanching. "Something fell on my ankle."
"The heck."
"No I'm serious. There's weight on my ankle and it's wet. Can you just lean
over and throw it somewhere else." If Dick was green before, he was projecting
a rainbow chart on his face then.
"Jesus fucking Christ. You owe me." Jason grumbled. He bent over, picked up a
piece of black fabric, and tossed it into the bin. "Happy?" He sank to the
back, trying his best to position himself against a corner. The length of their
safe haven allowed him to stretch his limbs more comfortably. He pulled Dick's
legs in so they were squarely beneath the marble counter. The narrow space had
them pressed up against each other, Dick's ruffled shirt pressed against his
own leather jacket. The temperature of Dick's back was acute on his chest. If
he shifted, the warmth would travel down his stomach. Carefully he tucked
Dick's slippers into the narrow gap between the cabinet and the floor. "Keep
your feet in. They'll rock this thing sideways."
Dick screwed his eyebrows and started rubbing at his temples. "Was it a used
condom? Please tell me it was not a used condom. Is there white substance on my
ankle? I need detergent."
Jason sneaked a peek skywards, grimacing in disgust. Quickly he shifted back
into their safety zone as they both heard a loud crash. Dick jumped at the
sudden noise, hitting his head against the underside of the counter. Clark
muttered an apology, but Bruce had somehow silenced him before he got his
sentence out.
"Five minutes into foreplay and you'd suspect it's a used condom? I can hear
Superman's ego shattering like the glass bowl they just knocked into the sink.
You all right?" Jason asked, stretching his hand to touch the back of Dick's
head. It wasn't swollen or wet with blood. At Dick's anxious look, he sighed.
"Chill, it was Bruce's underpants."
"Bruce's-" Dick's eyes widened. "That's Hermès with a three-digit price tag!
You tossed it into the bin!"
"Masterful aim, ain't it?" Jason answered flatly.
"We're so screwed, and there's no way he'd not know-" Dick was interrupted by a
kick at his face. So distracted was he that he almost couldn't dodge the sudden
attack. It was Jason who pulled him sideways against the wall of the counter.
Bruce's right leg had jerked. It was followed by a strangled noise from their
mentor that would haunt their dreams for nights to come.
"You like this, don't you?" Clark murmured. Judging from the step he took and
the slight bending of his knees, he was leaning down to the height of Bruce's
hips.
"Oh yes." Bruce muttered under his breath. He was breathing shallow and his
limbs were quivering.
Jason wiped a hand across his face. With as low a voice as he could manage, he
complained, "I'm gonna hurl."
Dick shifted uncomfortably. Listening to Bruce's commands made heat cross his
body at unexpected places. He squirmed, parting his legs to ease the tension
building south of his waist. Bruce's words - breathless yet dominant, throaty
but strong - had a strange effect on him. He tried to think about his poisonous
cornflakes, conjuring an image of expired milk and solid milk dregs.
For a short moment, Dick's unhelpful mind brought up another image. A glimpse
of Jason's half-naked body in the Batcave changing room. Sweat rolling off his
sharp jawline, bruises lined across his tight muscular torso. Jason tossing his
towel over his shoulder, his hand combing through sweaty matted hair. Not
exactly the image he wanted to fill his mind.
"Don't stop." Bruce commanded, and even Dick could imagine his strong hand
pressing Superman's head down. His mind supplied a low throaty growl instead of
Bruce's restrained voice. He saw a different vision along with that growl.
Batman's gloved hand was holding a submissive Clark in position, gritting out
orders between clenched teeth. His sharp gauntlets flashed with the few
reflected rays of moonlight, always hinting at how dangerous he was. He tried
to ignore the details that his dirty mind had filled in. An image of Batman's
thick, throbbing length, disappearing and reappearing through Superman's open
mouth. His mind seemed to zero in on the pulsating vein along its side.
Superman would lick that from bottom to top and drive his lover over his edge.
Dick shut his eyes, imagining the lingering thread of saliva on Superman's
lips. Then Superman would look up, flash a smug smile at his partner, and Dick
would melt from his overactive imagination.
It seemed that Bruce's partner had obliged his requests with ease, for Bruce
continued with noises that sounded suspiciously like "oh yes", "that's it", and
"fuck, that feels so good". His toes curled and he folded his legs, forcing the
boys to duck when he aimed his ankles into the small space beneath the counter.
Dick bit on his lower lip and almost swallowed saliva down his windpipe. He
clutched his chest and stole a glance at Jason. He was hugging his turkey so
tightly that his knuckles were white and the wrapping was deforming. The
slurping sounds were too clear where the boys were, and Dick just wanted to
pass out.
It took another few strokes, which were sadly audible, until Bruce hummed with
pleasure and gripped the counter with both hands, so strong that he would have
indented the counter had it not been triple reinforced. From where Dick could
see, Clark's legs straightened and the creases unfolded on his trousers.
"He shot his load?" Jason mouthed, pointing his finger towards the underside of
the counter.
"At least he's still got his pants-" Dick trailed off. Said pants fell and
pooled on the ground. A pair of muscular legs stepped out of the puddle, A few
jittery movements later, a pair of red underpants fell onto the fallen fabric.
"Great," Dick groaned.
"You sure?" Clark muttered. He pulled open the first drawer on his right, poked
around some metal utensils, and slammed it shut. He then proceeded to the
second drawer, fumbling and searching. The series of noises suggested that he
wasn't successful.
"Ask once more and I'll pull out the green K ring." Bruce replied, still
sounding breathless and not in his right mind. "You won't find it here…
Storeroom on your left." Their lips clashed, and Clark's legs were pressed
snugly against the counter.
"Be right back." Clark promised as their lips parted. In a blink, he was gone.
"This is our chance!' Dick spluttered. He shoved the turkey to the side and was
about to crawl out when Bruce's dangling legs came down onto the floor. Dick
bounced back in shock, elbowing Jason in the gut. Jason swallowed his painful
grunt.
That second was all it took for Clark to return. Dick grimaced. Now there were
four legs pressed against the counter, and he tried not to think about the the
portion of anatomy that was dangling in front of his face.
"Not quite what I imagined when you invited Clark Kent the reporter to your
charity party-" Clark murmured between kisses. Dick imagined that Bruce was
twisting his neck at an impossible angle to maintain their postures while
locking lips. Nonetheless the pair was doing a fine job, and he'd hate to
interrupt. He'd hate more to be discovered.
"Clark Kent the dorky, innocent… impossibly stubborn, rule-abiding… boy scout."
Bruce managed between more slurping noises. He grit his teeth and grunted. His
legs trembled.
"I'm flattered, Mr Wayne."
"Please tell me he's not fingering his asshole because my dinner is already
churned up and waiting at the back of my throat." Dick clenched his teeth and
fell back against Jason. He was not amused when he felt something unusually
hard and unusually warm. Unfortunately he didn't think it was Jason's
Thanksgiving turkey. "Jay?" He prompted uncertainly. Whatever it was, it was
pressed up against his spine. Dick only realized then that Jason was sitting
with his legs apart. "Jason."
"I heard you the first time," Jason's voice was nothing but a low throaty
growl. "Shut up."
"You have a raging hard-on and it's pressed right up against my ass crack."
Dick rambled on. "Bruce's cock is bouncing right in front of my face, and Clark
has his fingers up God knows where. So I think the mildest term I can use to
describe my emotional state right now is 'concerned'."
"No shit, Dickie. I'm a healthy male fresh out of adolescence with my eyes
fixed on a live porn show. Cut me some slack." Jason snarled. "Now will you
stop squirming against me? I'm fucking uncomfortable and that friction is
killing me."
"Is it?" Dick curled up and rubbed his back against Jason's groin. He was at
least more amused than embarrassed, and it was a good distraction against-
"Hmph." Bruce was leaning all his weight against the marble, tipping his toes
as he did. His calves tensed with his change of posture.
"Relax," Clark cooed.
Behind him, Dick heard the sharp hitch of breath coming from Jason. "That
voice," Jason grumbled. "He used that voice with me when he was coercing me to
eat my peas."
"First off, thank you for that very inappropriate mental image. Second, you
should be eating your peas with or without Superman dirty talking you into it."
Dick turned and reached for Jason's pants with both hands. He undid his fly
with a soft chuckle. "Hands?"
A glint of disbelief passed in Jason's eyes. He shifted until his back was
pressed flush against the back panel of the counter. He was reluctant to admit
that his cock had twitched at the suggestion. Bruce making sounds above them
was not exactly helping. "Are you for real?"
"Just doing what's necessary, besides, I do owe you." Dick hooked his finger
into Jason's underpants and stretched it forward by a few inches. Jason's
erection bobbed out the moment Dick allowed him space. Dick smirked in the
dark. "Oh. How you suffer."
"I don't think I'm the only one." Jason growled back. He reached forward,
curled his arm around Dick's waist, and cupped his groin. There it was, the
throbbing, wet package that he was looking for. He traced the bulge with two
fingers and started rubbing rhythmically. Dick squirmed against him, closing
the space between them and exerting more pressure onto his front body. It was
not exactly the position he had in mind, but he didn't mind as long as Dick was
throwing his head back onto his shoulder in satisfaction. Dick leaned towards
the curve of his neck, turning to give his earlobe a small peck, then an
experimental lick on his neck. Jason quickened the movement of his hand and
felt the quivering of Dick's body against his. "Hypocrite." He whispered.
Bruce groaned, and he had hoisted his body an inch or two above ground with his
arms.
"Painful?" Clark asked, pausing cautiously. From Jason's angle, he could see
the pair of hands gripping Bruce's hips, steadying him and keeping him on the
ground.
Another grunt from Bruce. Jason imagined him shaking his head stubbornly in
response, not even bothering to turn back towards Superman. Of course, whatever
Bruce endured, he did it in silence. This he assumed wouldn't be half as
painful as it was enjoyable. "It's wearing off…" Bruce muttered to himself,
then he pressed reassuringly, "Go on." He sounded less drowsy, but just as
encouraging.
Jason's attention on the pair was interrupted by the strengthened pressure up
against his thighs. "Jay. Focus." Dick murmured. He bit Jason's earlobe, licked
and pulled and blew warmth against it, until Jason was breathing heavy and
struggling to maintain his silence.
"Like I'm doing anything else." Jason whispered back. Damn circus monkeys. Dick
could reach his cock and stroke without even turning a half circle with his
waist.
"The show is right here." Dick muttered. He stroked Jason's length and started
to build a rhythm, fully aware of the quickening breathing at his ear.
"Oh fuck. Fuck yes." Jason groaned, throwing his head back. Dick's hand wrapped
around his hard length, stroking, pressing, squeezing the wetness out of his
tip. He tried to think where Dick had gotten his experience from, then he
realized he didn't really want to walk down that route. So he let himself loose
in his imagination, with a sour portion of his mind reminding him that this
might be the closest he'd ever be to Dick Grayson.
Then Dick smirked and lowered his mouth to Jason's cock, and even he couldn't
contain the tortured groan that escaped his parted lips. A hand was hurriedly
clamped onto his mouth, shushing him before he managed another moan that would
reveal their presence. He was melting in the warmth that was Dick's mouth,
wrapped around his hard length. Sucking with fervor, drawing out the wetness
from his length, licking the throbbing vein on his cock from bottom to top. He
gripped his pants, but eventually he pulled his arm up and placed one hand on
Dick's head, gripping his short black hair. He didn't do much to control the
rhythm that Dick had clearly set out, he just pulled and gripped, trying to
achieve some semblance of dominance. But there was no winning Dick, especially
not in this respect.
Dick's rhythm slowed, and his tongue circled the base of his cock almost
lazily. It was just enough to drive him crazy.
"Don't you dare stop," Jason growled, his vision swimming from being so close
to the edge.
Dick was grinning at him, his expression incredibly smug. "I wasn't going to."
He tugged Jason’s cock again, slowly but firmly, and the boy arched wantonly
into his grip. “But I want to hear you say please.”
“Fuck you,” Jason spat instinctively, but regretted it immediately when Dick’s
hand stopped moving. It was agonizing. “Please,” he hissed, and Dick decided
that was the most insincere in tone and the most sincere in will ‘please’ that
he had ever heard in his life. He was even going to ask, “Please what,” but
Jason was staring at him so intently that he’d actually felt sorry for him. So
he resumed his work, and could almost see a contradicting blend of relief and
torture blossoming in Jason’s face. Another tug, and white splattered onto
Jason’s shirt, with him moaning Dick’s name and a colorful string of curses.
They stayed unmoving for a few seconds. Jason laid panting, recovering from his
climax, while Dick palmed his own erection.
"What do you like?" Jason asked, his voice hoarse and breathless. They didn't
have space for many options, not when the adults were having their own fun
upstairs. Penetration was a bad idea, unless they could reach Bruce’s lubes and
condoms. He didn’t want to thrust so hard that either of them would bump their
head repeatedly against the hard surfaces around them.
Instead Dick pressed his body down, until he was between sitting and laying
down on the kitchen tiles. "A little friction can go a long way." Dick hummed,
straddling him with his knees planted beside Jason's hips. There he found a
comfortable position and started humping against him.
Jason couldn't help but agree that the friction was enormously pleasurable.
Just humping against Dick had him hardening again. He thrusted upwards,
relieving in the sensation. Dick groaned, clutching his collar. Then he lowered
himself to seize Jason's lips. They were wet and plump and very tempting to
bite on, which was what he did. Just a little nip, then he pulled away
teasingly. He heard Jason's dissatisfied grunt.
"More," Jason demanded breathlessly.
"More what?" Dick teased, working up a rhythm with his thrusts. "Speak
English."
"Fuck," Jason managed to grip Dick's hips with enough strength to bruise, and
gave himself enough space to thrust up against Dick. "I need it faster,
harder."
Their mouths clashed together again, all wet and messy. Dick hummed into his
mouth with each thrust. The friction felt just right, just enough for pressure
to build, for them to work towards release. Dick kept a hand on the ground to
maintain their balance, aware at the back of his mind that they were moving so
frantically that there was no way the counter wasn't moving with them. That was
his last coherent thought, before Jason slowed a fraction and ground against
him in a slow, tantalizing thrust. That was precisely the same moment his mind
went blank. They were awfully quiet reaching their climax, and all Dick
remembered was riding out his orgasm against Jason, filling his pants with warm
wetness and the surrounding silence with a soft, gratified moan.
Between getting his sexual frustration resolved and trying to get out of their
eventful encounter, Dick only remembered being tired enough to want to fall
asleep on Jason's chest. He snuggled against the boy, wrapping his arms around
Jason's. It was around then that his consciousness floated away.
"Bruce…" Clark began as his breath steadied. "I want to make an unromantic but
necessary remark."
"If it's one of your Midwestern endearments with triple contractions that will
make my swollen cock shrink, save it."
"Wow. That hurt. I was going to say I heard your boys beneath the counter about
halfway through-" He fell silent as Bruce flipped off the counter and crouched
down. He had just pulled his pants up.
Bruce took one quick look at the boys, then he straightened his back and
sighed. "I didn't know aphrodisiacs make one deaf."
"Granted, you were making quite some noise as well." Clark shrugged. "And Lex
did mix the drug with metas in mind."
Bruce glared at Clark for a moment. Slowly he turned to Dick's cereal boxes, to
the half-unwrapped turkey on Jason's side. At last he fixed his eyes onto the
counter they had just christened with a generous amount of body fluids.
"Guess I can skip the talk with Jason."
"Right, who needs it after a live demonstration?" Clark quickly ducked a punch.
"We're going to pretend we left and continued in the master bedroom." Bruce
concluded firmly. He stepped over to the sink with almost mechanical movements.
There he filled a cup with water, shoved it into the microwave, pressed the
door shut, and set the timer. Clark watched him with an oddly endearing
expression. "That'll wake them."
When Bruce turned around again, he was pressed up against the cabinets. "So,
are we?" Clark prompted.
"Are we what?"
"Going to continue in the master bedroom. Between that and 'pretend we left', I
didn't catch your emphasis." Clark gathered both wrists with one hand and
clamped them against the cabinet doors. The vulnerability that posture
presented made Batman hard, and it was his favorite reaction.
"That just shows you haven't been listening, Clark."
"Oh, I've been listening all night, Bruce." Clark mumbled as he trailed kisses
down Bruce's neck. He nibbled and sucked, planting hickeys along the way. Bruce
would be pissed the morning after, but his Brucie reputation could justify any
mark Clark left. He smirked, counting the seconds before he would pick Bruce up
and fly them to his master bedroom at super speed. It wouldn't be long.
"Just one last check before we start another round of our marathon. Which is,
by the way," he glimpsed at the sleeping boys. "Not for kids."
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