Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1059536.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_(Comics), Batman_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Jason_Todd/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Jason_Todd, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Prostate_Milking, Anal_Fingering, Mentor/Sidekick, Medical_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-26 Words: 5649
****** Untitled (or How Jason Todd Found His Prostate) ******
by figaro
Summary
     Jason thought about what Bruce had said, how stimulating the prostate
     would be enough to produce an emission, how one could even climax
     from it, and Jason imagined that, imagined coming without even
     jerking off, coming just from a finger up his ass, and he moaned
     again, zeroing in on his mission.
Notes
     While Jason's age isn't stated, he's Robin, so... heed the warning.
     Also, I haven't written in a long, long while, so I'm a bit rusty.
     Feedback is welcome. :)
The clinical way Bruce talked about the body while holding one of his countless
lectures usually drained any eventual embarrassment from it. At most Jason’s
ears had heated up a little the afternoon Bruce talked about the importance of
wearing a sturdy athletic cup when you’re out in the field. (some criminals,
Bruce refrained from saying who, but Jason thought it smelled of cat, were
apparently quite fond of aiming for the crotch) And he’d gotten a funny feeling
in the pit of his stomach when Bruce handed him a sleek looking jockstrap and a
cup, before sending him off to try it on and to let Bruce know if any
adjustments were needed. It had fit as if it was made for Jason’s junk, and
considering Bruce was the Batman, well… Jason didn’t really want to go there,
but he couldn’t rule out the possibility Bruce had all of Jason’s measurements.

The afternoon when Bruce decided it was time to teach Jason about prostate
health, though… Jason was mortified. In the most matter-of-fact way Bruce
talked about how masturbation was actually good for you, maybe even necessary,
both because Jason was young (i.e. a walking, talking hormone soup) and it
would help him focus, and because it simply was healthy to drain his testicles
from time to time. That was the actual phrasing he used. Drain Jason’s
testicles. That alone had Jason uncomfortably squirming in his seat. When Bruce
went on from there to the topic of prostate massage, and how the draining was
actually possible without orgasm, if you stimulated the gland via the rectum,
Jason felt his face heat up to the point he was sure Bruce must notice the
blushing.

After a thorough description of how this was done (along with information on
how the act might be pleasurable, and despite what Bruce had said might very
well lead to climax, depending on how sensitive one was) Bruce asked Jason if
he had any questions, and Jason, well, Jason didn’t dare open his mouth, in
case some embarrassing noise fell out instead of actual words. He simply shook
his head, which was reeling with images he’d never even touched on before.

Bruce finished his lecture by telling Jason he was free to skip it, he was
young after all, and prostate health was more of a concern when you started
reaching Bruce’s age, but that it would probably be a good idea if Jason gave
finding his own prostate a try. Disposable gloves were over there, and in the
drawer to the left there was a bottle of medical grade lubricant. Jason was
free to take the items to his room for privacy.

By that time Jason felt as if his cheeks were on fire, but he managed a nod,
and slunk away to the training equipment on the other side of the Cave the
second Bruce dismissed him; to breathe and to think.
oOo
A day or two later Jason figured it wouldn’t hurt to do what Bruce had told
him. Bruce was nearly always right, and although it hadn’t been a direct order,
Jason knew it would please him if he followed directions.

Bruce was away on Wayne business related things, and Alfred was apparently up
in the attic, pointlessly dusting off things no one would ever see again
anyways, and doing whatever else household magic he always did. So basically
Jason had the mansion to himself. Scolding himself on his way down to the Cave,
annoyed with the way his pulse had shot up, how his stomach kept doing flip-
flops, telling himself it was no big deal, Jason half jogged over to the
medical bay, and quickly snatched up a pair of gloves and the bottle, shoving
them inside his hoodie and keeping them pressed against his chest. For a moment
he felt like he was ten and shoplifting again. It didn’t really make him any
less nervous.

He took the stairs two at a time back up to the mansion and probably beat some
record crossing the distance between the library and his room, dashing down the
hall as if his damn ass was on fire.

And for once, he locked his door behind him.

Jason fished out and put the slightly terrifying items (stupid, stupid, nothing
to be afraid of. He’d used gloves cleaning up wounds on both himself and Bruce
before, and he even kept a tiny bottle of what might very well be the same
lubricant in his goddamn utility belt. It had its uses in the field, easing the
passage—God—when you needed to get past creaky windows and doors. He’d never
look at that bottle the same way after this though, that was for sure) down on
his bed, before stripping off sneakers and socks, jeans and hoodie, letting it
all settle in a pile on the floor.

Standing in t-shirt and briefs only, Jason shuddered. It wasn’t particularly
cold in his room but that didn’t keep goose bumps from forming on his legs and
arms. Rubbing his arms while looking down at himself Jason realized he had to
remove his underwear too. He didn’t really want to. Creating a mess in them
sounded even less tempting, though, plus, damnit, Jason was no chicken. He’d
never have become Robin if he was. And what was this? It wasn’t as if he was
facing a big baddie, it wasn’t as if he was walking to his death. All he had to
do was stick a finger up his butt and dig around a little. Piece of cake. Piece
of seriously embarrassing cake.

Jason could do this.

He tugged his briefs down almost violently, stepping out of them and kicking
them over to land on top of the rest of his clothes and then made for the bed,
hesitating with one knee resting on the mattress, before turning back around
and heading to the bathroom where he grabbed a big towel, which he tossed on
the bed and smoothed out before flopping down on it.

After yet another short struggle with himself, Jason grabbed a glove, put it
on, covered two fingers in lube, and then froze.

How was he supposed to sit? Lie? Should he get on his knees? For some reason
Bruce hadn’t covered this. He’d just told Jason to ‘get comfortable’. What the
heck did that mean? Jason let out an annoyed sigh before simply laying back,
grabbing a couple of pillows with his non-sticky hand and shoving behind his
head so he’d be able to at least try and see what he was doing. Of course his
junk was in the way (should he do this in front of a mirror?), but Jason
figured he simply had to feel his way around. He planted his feet on the
mattress, legs spread wide (a mirror would definitely have been a bad idea.
Christ,the way he must look right now) and reached down with his clean hand,
gently tugging his balls to the side, before pretty much shoving down his other
hand and pressing two slick fingertips against his asshole, before he lost his
courage.
The feeling made him gasp out loud. He’d never figured… He… Of course he’d
touched himself down there before, hell, he showered daily and made sure he
cleaned everywhere, but not like this. Not with purpose, not with intent, and
definitely not with his fingers coated in something so slippery.
The very tips of his fingers skated over wrinkled skin, sending a jolt up his
spine, and Jason found he simply had to do it again. And again. He traced
gentle circles and reveled in the warmth flooding his body. It came as no
surprise at all when his dick twitched against his wrist, and slowly started
filling out, not growing completely hard but definitely chubbing up, enough for
it to rise a little from his hip, where it had rested. The urge to let go of
his sac and grab it, work it over until it throbbed, grew steadily in Jason,
but he was on a mission, and sadly his dick wasn’t a priority right now. Maybe
after. Maybe if pushing inside felt as good as just rubbing.
Suddenly Jason felt impatient. He needed to know. He pressed the pad of a
finger against his asshole, felt the springy give, felt how he’d be let inside
if he only pushed, and tilted his finger, let the tip slip in a fraction of an
inch, and even though he was barely even inside, Jason felt elated in a way
he’d rarely experienced before. He couldn’t even put words to it. Just this,
the power of being able to be inside yourself, it… It did things to him. It
made him feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time, and it gave him the
courage needed to push.

And push.
And push. until his finger was buried in his ass, up until the last knuckle.
Jason wagged it gently, carefully, and surprised himself when he let out a
moan. Bruce had talked about how the anus was positively packed with nerve
endings, and that knowledge had sunken in properly when Jason had just stroked
on the outside, but Bruce hadn’t mentioned how it would feel inside. Jason knew
that technically he wasn’t very sensitive where his finger now was buried, but
the feeling of something there, not to mention the feeling of his smooth inner
walls touching his finger, even through the latex, was overwhelming. He was so
hot inside. So slick. So snug. And Jason didn’t really want to think about
Bruce right now, but he still sent a silent thanks to him for tipping Jason off
and encouraging him to explore his body. Jason was pretty sure he’d never jerk
off again without adding a finger, like this.
His dick bobbed against his stomach now, so hard he could feel his pulse
throbbing in it, and the area between his navel and his pubes was slowly
turning into a sticky mess. Jason knew he leaked quite a bit when he was horny,
but never like this, never a near steady little trail of precome connecting the
head to his stomach, a shivering string threatening to break with every bob of
his dick.
Jason thought about what Bruce had said, how stimulating the prostate would be
enough to produce an emission, how one could even climax from it, and Jason
imagined that, imagined coming without even jerking off, coming just from a
finger up his ass, and he moaned again, zeroing in on his mission, focusing on
finding the spot he was looking for.

Something which, it turned out, was easier said than done. Jason gently poked
and prodded, focusing on pressing upward, sliding his fingertip against his
inner wall slowly back and forth, trying to find the lump Bruce had talked
about (and showed diagrams of, of course), but he just couldn’t pin down the
damn thing. His dick flagged a little as unease started building in his gut.
Jason felt ridiculous. It still felt good, but Jason imagined he must look like
a moron digging around in his ass, legs spread wide, and a sense of failure
started making itself known as well.
Jason reminded himself once again that this had all been completely voluntary,
but he still felt somehow as if he’d let Bruce down. It was hardly rocket
science and still…
Jason sighed, the low thrum of arousal still present not enough to stop him
from pulling his finger out and tugging the glove off, tossing it to the side.
He ignored his bobbing cock, still a bit fluffed up, as he rolled off his bed
and headed for the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the glove.

After having dressed and put the bottle of lube back where he found it, Jason
felt a strong urge to move, to get away from everything Bruce for a while, and
went for a jog around the grounds.

It turned out more of a sprint, the frustration egging Jason on, making him
work himself harder, knowing he’d stop thinking if he exhausted himself enough.
Bruce would be angry with him, patrol that night would suck, as Jason would be
sure to ache and yawn all the way through it, but he tried to run away from
those thoughts too.
oOo
Patrol did suck.
At least Bruce wasn’t very angry. And Jason slept well when they finally
returned home at the break of dawn.
oOo
The following afternoon Jason woke up refreshed, and feeling pretty silly for
having reacted the way he did. Bruce wouldn’t see it as a failure, he’d see it
as an opportunity for Jason to try harder. Or possibly he’d just tell Jason to
forget about it for now, and give him a clap on the shoulder for at least
giving it a shot.
In any case Jason felt the need to report to Bruce. That was something too well
drilled into him to even think of ignoring.
He caught Bruce in the Cave after breakfast, and nearly lost his courage. Bruce
was over by the gym equipment, bare-chested and sweaty after apparently having
pushed himself pretty hard. He still was, snarling on his back and lifting
Jason-didn’t-dare-imagine-how-many-pounds-of weights with his legs; thighs and
calves, with the hair plastered down by sweat, tensing and relaxing, muscles
standing out in stark relief and sinking back, over and over.
Bruce looked… angry, almost. But it could just be his super-focused face.
Nothing to be wary of. And if Jason didn’t leave a report now, he had a feeling
he never would. Conditioning or no conditioning.
"Uhm, Bruce?"
A pause in the monotonous clanking of the weights, the Cave going quiet for a
moment, before picking up again.
"Yes, Jason?" Bruce sounded slightly winded. He really had worked himself hard.
Jason wondered why.
"Could we… talk? When you’re done, I mean. I can wait at the computer and…
rehearse the Gotham penal code, or something."
Another pause.
"You know the penal code inside and out and could probably recite it in your
sleep if needed."
"Or just sort some files. I’ll just, you know, go wait for you."
Bruce let out a quiet grunt as he kept the tension in his legs while slowly,
slowly lowering them, before rolling to the side and getting on his feet,
gracefully as a big cat. At least until he took a step forward and actually
wobbled a little. “Is something wrong, Jason?”
"No! I mean, no… It’s not an emergency or anything, it’s just, uh… Personal."
Jason made a face. "And kinda embarrassing."
"I see." Bruce had grabbed a towel and was rubbing it against the back of his
neck, the muscles in his chest and arm flexing.
Jason swallowed.
"Well, as embarrassing as it might seem, you know it’s probably better to talk
about it." Bruce dragged the towel over his face, revealing a slight smile
behind it. "And if it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t laugh.
Bruce making jokes, Hallelujah. He must be all but drowning in endorphins by
now. Too bad Jason wasn’t in the mood to fully appreciate it.
"Uh, alright. Well, I guess that is good. If you laughed I’d probably be
scarred forever." Jason managed a crooked smile back, or at least he hoped it
looked like a smile, and not just a grimace. From the answering look on Bruce’s
face, Jason suspected he’d failed quite spectacularly. The smile was wiped away
and left were only lines of worry.
"Tell me what’s wrong, Jason."
"Well, you see…" Jason rubbed a hand through his hair, swallowed hard. He took
a quick look around him and instead of continuing, he headed for the nearest
bench. He waited until Bruce followed his lead and had sat down too, facing
him, before continuing. "You talked to me about… prostate health." Jason felt a
prickle in his cheeks as blood started rising in them. Damn, damn, damn.
"And you decided to try the prostate massage I recommended," Bruce finished.

You hardly had to be a master detective to reach that conclusion, but it still
eased something inside Jason when Bruce picked up on it right away. He didn’t
have to say it himself. He nodded.
"Yeah, I did as you said with the gloves and the… bottle. In my room. On a
towel," he added hastily, "I didn’t mess up the bed or anything."
"Good. That was thoughtful of you."
The encouraging smile, just a light tilt of the corner of Bruce’s mouth, made
Jason want to crack open and spill everything. It didn’t have to be
embarrassing. This was Bruce.
He managed a real smile this time.
"Yeah, so… Anyways. I did it like you said, careful, with one finger and I,
uh…"
"You…?" Bruce prompted gently.
Jason’s sigh nearly emptied his lungs. It was like it was sucked out of him. He
might not have to be embarrassed, but he still felt like a failure.
"I couldn’t find it. The prostate. I kept digging around and, yeah. So I gave
up."
Bruce hummed, and if Jason didn’t know any better he’d say it was an
entertained hum. “It’s not like you to quit, but in this case I can hardly
blame you. It was a completely novel situation, and a rather… intimate one at
that.”
"And not mandatory." Jason dared to meet Bruce’s eyes, hunting forgiveness even
though he knew by now he didn’t need it.
"No, not mandatory." Bruce nodded, and Jason sighed again, easier this time,
before straightening his back a little. Embarrassing or not, humiliating or
not, intimate or not, he’d given Bruce his report. He’d been good.
"I’m glad you felt you could come to me with this, Jason," Bruce said, as if
reading Jason’s mind.
"Ah, yeah. Me too. And thank you for not laughing."
"You’re welcome."
"Heh."
"So, what now?"
Jason blinked. He’d been sure the discussion would end there, case closed, all
finished, the end. No more talk of his butt with Bruce. The look that must be
on his face seemed to prompt Bruce to continue.
"Are you going to try again?"
"I—" Frick, frick, fuck. Jason felt himself starting to blush again.
"Would you like me to help you?"
Fuck blushing, Jason was heading for a stroke. “Uh…”
"You know I would, if you wanted. It would probably be easier that way, too.
The angle when doing it yourself can make it quite difficult to pinpoint the
prostate."
His head was reeling, and it was like he’d lost contact with his body, like he
was only a brain resting on a lump of clay. Jason doubted he’d be able to move
even if the alarm went off; even if the damn Joker would happen to stroll in
right then.
"Embarrassment is unnecessary, Jason. This is, after all, mostly a standard
medical procedure."
Mostly?
Jason opened his mouth and hoped to high heaven it would be at least marginally
connected to his brain. “Except for the fact I might get off on it.” Pretty
excellent connection! It even managed to bypass the brain-to-mouth filter
completely. Jason would’ve patted himself on the head if he wasn’t already
aiming for sinking through the Cave floor and disappearing for good.
Bruce seemed to take it in stride. Or course. What didn’t he. “A side effect.
It would be completely natural, and nothing to be ashamed of.”
Screw it, if Jason was going to open his mouth again, he might as well shove
his foot in it while at it. “So, what you’re saying is, you wanna stick a
finger up my butt, and it’s no biggie if that makes me spooge.”
"Language, Jason." It was said reflexively, there was no disapproval in Bruce’s
voice, nor visible on his face when Jason dared meet his eyes again. There was
something there, though. Something that made Jason feel a little itchy on the
inside; that quite forcefully anchored him in his body again and suddenly he
could feel everything. His skin felt a size to small when he noticed Bruce eyes
slip down, just for a second. Just long enough for Jason to notice, not even
long enough for him to process it. Instead he mirrored Bruce. Although, unlike
him, Jason didn’t manage to just sneak a glance, his eyes stuck when they
reached Bruce’s lap, where his hands rested. Big hands. Strong hands. Thick but
deft fingers. A couple of sliver-thin silvery scars snaking over the knuckles.
"Christ…" Jason muttered. It wasn’t the first time he’d admired Bruce hands.
They were brilliant. Jason hoped he’d sport something similar one day, when he
finally started growing properly. It was, however, the first time Jason admired
Bruce hands while simultaneously touching on the idea of one of those big
fingers being inside him.
"I should probably scold you for taking the Lord’s name in vain, too."
Again with the jokes. Jason seriously entertained the idea that he was
dreaming, or maybe sent off to a parallel universe without noticing. Bruce was
somehow, in the middle of this, having fun. Not laughing at Jason, but still
obviously entertained.

Jason wondered how he must look. Slack-jawed, staring at Bruce’s lap, dazed.
The man wants to finger fuck me.
The thought was too crude, and it must be incorrect, but it still lodged itself
in the forefront of Jason’s mind.
Standard medical procedure, Bruce says, and then he teases, more lighthearted
than Jason had seen him in a while. It made Jason’s head spin. And his gut
churn. And his heart beat rabbit-fast in his chest. Before he even knew what he
was doing, he nodded—something that made Bruce’s gaze sharpen.
"What are you saying yes to, Jason?" Bruce’s voice was firm, the way it was
when he really needed to be clear about something, when he expected Jason to be
crystal clear in return.
"Do it," Jason said, ignoring the panicked cacophony that had gone off in the
back of his head.
oOo
"This will be easier if you either just bend over the examination table and
spread your legs a little, or if you lie down on it on your side, your back to
me. Pick what you feel most comfortable with."
"I think I’ll stand," Jason said, sounding faint, feeling faint, still gripped
by a sense of unreality, still suspecting, no matter how improbable, he’d ended
up in a parallel universe. The unreal feeling propelled him, though, pushed any
thought of consequences away. It somehow all felt inevitable. Bruce had made
Jason, had molded him into Robin, body and mind. Bruce had pushed and prodded,
stretched Jason out like taffy, massaged every muscle in his body into goo;
wasn’t it just right that he’d mold Jason inside as well? Wasn’t Jason, as
Bruce’s creation, Bruce’s to do what he wanted with?

As Jason stepped up to the table and slowly bent over it, resting his chin on
his crossed arms, the sense of unreality faded, replaced by something that made
things seem even more than real. He was doing this. He was aware of the
adrenaline surging through his body that not only came from anticipation of the
unfamiliar, but also from fear. He was aware of his body, maybe more than he’d
ever been, and he sank into that feeling as he heard the snap of a latex glove
being pulled on, as he felt Bruce step up behind him, as he felt thumbs hook
into the elastic of his sweats and briefs both, and tugging down, just enough
to bare his ass. The click of a bottle being opened and the sticky, nasty noise
of something gooey being squeezed out followed. Then nothing.

Jason’s heart still raced, but he kept his breathing steady, gently rolled his
forehead against his arm, parted his legs a couple of inches more and settled.
He didn’t wait for Bruce’s question.

“Ready.”
Bruce responded with a steady grip on Jason’s bared hip, warm and dry and
gloveless. Before Jason had barely even registered it, the tip of a finger was
pressed up against his asshole. Firmer than his own had been at the beginning;
steady and sure, and the circling motion was quick and practical, albeit
gentle, meant to make sure Jason was properly coated and nothing else.

When Jason didn’t twitch or squirm, only exhaling through his nose, he got a
murmured “Good, Jason.” in reply, and it made something glow in his chest. This
was right. This was—
"Fuck!"
It had to be one finger, but it felt like three, at least. He couldn’t help but
bark out the swear when he was breached. No pain was registering, but the
stretch of it, the quiet burn, shot Jason’s breathing to hell and all of a
sudden he was gulping down air, exhaling in violent puffs, panting. What he’d
felt when he did this to himself back in his room came back with crystal
clarity; nerve endings lighting up, making pleasure course through his entire
body; the throb of it inside in direct connection with his dick, making it
twitch and drool. He hadn’t forgotten how good it had felt, but now, with
Bruce’s finger half-buried inside him, he relived it. And of course it was even
more intense when someone else was doing it. Of course.
Jason thought he could hear Bruce tell him to steady his breathing and relax,
but with blood roaring in his ears he couldn’t be sure. He assumed that was
what Bruce was saying at least. What else would he be saying in that low, calm
voice? How hot Jason was? How tight? How good he felt around Bruce’s finger?
Jason groaned and shifted his stance, not having a clue if he wanted to move
away or back up on Bruce’s hand. It felt fucking fantastic, it was too much, it
was not enough.
It was definitely too much, in the best of ways. Lost in his head Jason hadn’t
noticed Bruce finger bottoming out in him; nor had he registered the pressing
and prodding. Not until Bruce hit the jackpot and Jason honest-to-God yelped.
JesusfuckingChristonaGoddamncrackerHolyFUCK
"There?" Bruce asked clearly enough to penetrate the chaos in Jason’s brain,
and Jason, aiming for a nod and verbal affirmation, let out a string of little
‘unh, unh' noises in return. The chuckle that produced nearly made Jason's
knees buckle.
Cool, collected, Mostly Standard Medical Procedure Bruce standing behind Jason,
gripping his hip as if owning him, crooking his finger in his goddamn ass,
definitely owning him, being amused by Jason’s pleasure. He was a bastard, a
full-blown, dickheaded bastard, a—
"Oh, God!”
"I think we can safely say you’re one of the males who gain pleasure from the
procedure."
Smug fucking—
"Ah!"
"As you may notice, different strokes and amount of pressure produce different
results. And were I to keep this motion—" Bruce gently, consistently stroked
his fingertip inside Jason, as if wiping away a smudge on a screen "—steady for
some period of time, I am positive you’d ejaculate."
How else could Jason respond to that but with a 'Please!' and a contraction of
the muscles in his groin so hard his dick smacked up against the underside of
the examination table?
"We’re not doing this for recreation, though." Bruce sounded almost… regretful.
There was thatsomething there again, lurking under what Jason had started to
realize was a pretty damn thin veneer of distance. “I’ve shown you the basic
principle; that you indeed are a happy owner of a prostate; and if you have
trouble reaching it yourself, there are… tools that could help. Let me know if
you want me to procure some for you.” The rubbing had stopped, Jason’s brain
was—somewhat—back online, and Bruce made as if to pull away.
Jason reached back blindly, groping until he got a hold of Bruce’s thick wrist,
jerked his hips back to ensure Bruce’s finger stayed where it was. He didn’t
even reflect on what he’d done until he felt Bruce still completely behind him,
felt him radiate stillness, as if time had froze from the sheer force of
Bruce’s will.
Slowly Jason let up the grip, finger by finger, until Bruce was free again, and
he pulled up his hand to clasp tightly around his own wrist, not sure he could
trust himself not to grab Bruce again. “Please,” he said again, more quiet,
“please, Bruce. I need…”
Bruce still hadn’t moved, his finger still buried to the knuckle in Jason.
Whatever amusement he’d shown, Jason knew was gone now.
"You’ll do something for me, Jason."
That voice. Not quite Batman, but enough force to make Jason bend over
backwards when it was used on him.
"Anything."
"I will finish… milking your prostate, and you, in return, will do your very
best not to clench around my finger or tense the muscles in your stomach and
groin. I know this feels good for you, but that’s not why I—"
Jason found himself shaking his head, jerkily, wanting to nod at the same time.
“I know, I know, okay? Just… Please. I—I’ll do my best.”
Bruce… almost sighed. “You always do, Jason. Just keep focusing on that. Focus
on letting this happen. Do not work for it. This isn’t for fun.”
"You’re the boss."
"Good boy."
"Unh!"
"Jason…"
"No, please… I’ll be good. Do it, Bruce. Do it."
As Bruce’s finger started moving again, almost hesitantly at first, Jason
stretched out over the table and reached out, grabbing the edge of it just to
hang on, just to have something to clench on, as he focused on relaxing the
rest of his body. He locked his knees, turned his head to the side and rested
his cheek on the table, nose twitching from the whiff of antiseptic that hit
him.
Bruce seemed pleased with Jason going pliant. The hand that had kept a steady
grip on Jason’s hip through it all let up and slid up to the small of Jason’s
back, nudging under his t-shirt, and just resting there, big and warm, nearly
spanning from hip to hip, grounding Jason and making him feel like he could
actually do this. Bruce had him. Bruce always had him.
Jason’s deep sigh was like a sign Bruce had waited for. He probably had. The
pressure on Jason’s prostate grew firm again, firm and perfectly even, pushing
and rubbing, pushing and rubbing, not letting up, not slowing down or speeding
up.
Jason felt the twitch in his hips, the clench of his muscles inside and out; he
felt them wanting to happen, and held them back, turning his focus inwards,
like one of Bruce’s meditation practices; locked onto the feeling Bruce’s
finger created, and stayed there. The rest of his body soon started to seem
less, to matter less. The expansion and contraction of his chest didn’t matter,
the itch in his nose didn’t matter, the blood pooled in his dick didn’t matter,
and Jason felt himself slowly starting to go soft. It still felt good, more
than good, fucking amazing, but Jason also felt like… almost like an extension
of Bruce; thread onto his finger, doing what Bruce wanted from him; being what
Bruce wanted him to be.
That felt good too, like a golden glow in his belly that radiated outwards
until it filled every inch of his body, tightly intertwined with the heat in
his pelvis, building, building; until Jason with a long, thready whine started
not-coming. He felt his balls climbing, felt the come pushing its way up his
dick, felt it not spurt, but drip thickly from the head, every rub of Bruce’s
finger forcing out more, making it a constant, thin stream, enough of it for
one long string to nearly reach the floor before breaking.
It seemed like it would never end. The hand on the small of Jason’s back had
started moving, stroking a slow, continuous circle; encouraging without
pressuring; just making sure Jason gave Bruce everything. And he did. When the
final drop slid from his slit, clinging to the underside of the head, Jason
felt completely drained. He’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if
Bruce had wrung him out. Which was a pretty apt description. Jason felt about
as solid as a rag, his muscles loose and floppy. When he took a deep breath,
trying to get himself together, he realized his nose was congested; when he
rubbed the heel of a hand over an eye he felt it getting wet.
"I think I—" Apparently a frog had lodged itself in his throat, too. He cleared
it. "I think I need to sit down. Possibly lie down. Maybe forever."
Bruce only replied by carefully pulling out his finger, wrapping an arm around
Jason’s hips, and gently lifting him up onto the examination table, letting him
settle face down.
Jason had nearly started to drift when he felt a damp napkin between his
cheeks, wiping the residue lube away.
“‘M not a baby, Bruce. Just gimme a minute and I’ll go clean up, promise.”
"Already done," Bruce said, simply, and the second after that Jason felt a big
towel land over him, covering him up from the chill of the Cave, and from
Bruce’s sight, Jason supposed.

For a moment his thoughts drifted to Bruce, wondering how detached he’d
actually been, if he’d gotten off on emptying Jason like that, but Jason
couldn’t really muster much interest. It was funny; he couldn’t remember ever
having felt so sated before and he hadn’t even come. Not in the traditional
sense, anyways. It was weird. Super weird even. His boss had fucked him with a
finger. Jason had begged to make it continue. Things were gonna be weird—
"Sleep," Bruce said.
Jason slept.
oOo
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