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Don't Look

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"Don't look." The plea came out desperate, half-gasped, as Jason fell to his knees, hands frantically ripping at his clothing: first the shuffle of material, and finally - blessedly - his cup, clattering to the ground. A second later Jason was stroking frantically, his little green shorts tight around his thighs, holding him hostage as he pressed his free hand to the edge of the roof in front of him and jerked his hips forward, gasping and straining for it, intent to end this necessary shame as quickly as possible.

His toes flexed in his pixie boots and his thighs burned with how horny he was. His belly was so tight he trembled as he jerked at his cock, lips parted and eyes wide.

This was the third time tonight. The third time after having been dosed by Ivy's poison that he'd had to give in and do this. Doing it wasn't the embarrassing part. Doing it with Batman listening while he was in the middle of downtown Gotham was the embarrassing part.

He'd been told to go home three times already. Admittedly, he was surprised it hadn't been more like eight or nine times, but he supposed each one of these events warranted another statement from Bruce.


Jason's mind derailed, stuttered off the tracks and careened down into the pit he'd been trying to keep it out of while around the man he tended to think about when getting off alone in the manor. It wasn't like he could help it. He didn't see Bruce as a father figure and Bruce didn't much treat him like a child. Not to mention Bruce was hot. Hot and - from what Jason could tell - very clearly bisexual. That part only furthered Jason's fantasies of being bent over the nearest surface and fucked until they were both satisfied.

Granted, sometimes he imagined bending Bruce over, too. Not that he imagined either thing would ever truly happen. As it was, he could tell he was making Bruce uncomfortable even turned away and half a rooftop from him. He'd been tense all night since this started happening. He snapped more often than usual, snarled orders out at Jason, and generally was treating him like he was a foolish child again.

Jason was not a child.

He gave his penis a few more frantic tugs and only narrowly avoided moaning Bruce's name as he ejaculated all over the gravel of the rooftop. He did moan, though. It just wasn't a name by the time it bubbled up out of his throat.

Easing himself back, Jason used his index finger to swipe up the last bit of his cum clinging to the head of his cock, flicked it onto the rooftop and stood up, yanking his shorts back into place and then leaning down and picking up his cup, giving himself long enough to calm down and then shove it back into the proper place in his suit. He wiped his finger on his thigh and rejoined Bruce.

Bruce took a breath and Jason sighed. "Go home, I get it. I'm not going to. You need me out here tonight, even... like this." Jason shifted uneasily, the stirring in his gut telling him being this close to the man he'd just cum thinking about probably wasn't all that smart. Particularly while under the influence of Ivy's particular brand of villainy.

Bruce grunted, turned away, and Jason got a whiff of Bruce's sweat. He froze if only because he was well enough trained not to do anything he didn't initiate without fighting for control first. He wanted to launch himself at Bruce, wanted to fuck. Jason shuddered hard, felt his cock start to stiffen again, and he swallowed hard. Okay, he'd gone from bad to worse in the span of a few seconds.

He stood there, helplessly watching Bruce's retreating back until he could finally move again and then all but bolted in the opposite direction. He hit their comm link as he blessedly made the leap between buildings and offered only, "You're right. Home." He cut the line before Bruce could reply and kept right on going like the dogs of hell were at his feet.

A few blocks later, he heard the Batmobile and he gave in, darted toward it because his gut told him to get in, to give in, that he wanted to be confined with Bruce, that he wanted to fuck and be fucked and wanted to cum until he couldn't breathe.

He yanked the door open and slid inside, both disappointed and relieved that it was on autopilot. He slid into the seat and looked at the readout long enough to see it was going home before he wrenched his pants down to mid-thigh and this time used both hands to masturbate, frantically stroking his cock right there in the Batmobile's seat. He only wished he had more time to enjoy the fact that he was defiling it by doing this here. His cock throbbed and he arched as he began to cum again, hips humping the air as he continued to tug on his cock, moaning as loud as he wanted to while he drained his balls once again.

Having completed, he slowly slumped down on the seat and sat there, prick in hand, gaze hazy and his mind feeling unglued. It was going to be a long long night.


The drive home was - as expected - eventful only in that it contained two more orgasms before he stumbled out of the Batmobile and rushed to the showers where he left behind a bit more DNA evidence splattered over the cool tiles. He should have been running on empty, should have been shooting ghost loads if anything, but instead he seemed to be over-producing semen. Not unlike the way Ivy's plants seemed to over-produce pollen.

He made it to his bedroom and stripped, sliding into bed and immediately shoving a pillow under himself to hump. The first time was fast, as it always was when he let himself imagine his cock pushing in and out of someone else's body. He ejaculated between the pillow and the mattress, sighing in pleasure as it came out. The second took longer but still was faster than his usual, this one done to the image of Bruce allowing him to do this to him, of Bruce's ass, of Bruce's hard cock in his hand. He spilled on the pillow this time and rolled off of it afterward, humping the air for a few minutes, trying desperately to calm down enough to breathe again.

But it only got worse. He stroked until he coated his hand and then rolled over to hump his pillow again, fucking up into the soft folds repeatedly, his cries nearly sobs as he sought his orgasm this time. When it came it was feeble, weak, not at all what he needed.

Scrambling off his bed, he knelt beside it and pulled out the small locked chest he kept beneath it. He dialed the code in and opened it, pulling out the few items he used in lieu of toys. A metal handled hairbrush that was smooth and non-porous and one of the stupid water shaker toys he'd seen kids playing with but had instantly wanted to press his dick up into. He had and it had been great. He didn't use it often, didn't want to break it and never have it again, but he did when he got needy enough.

He opened the small bottle of medical grade lubricant he'd lifted from the cave, coated the hairbrush handle and spread his legs a bit more, reaching back and pushing it against his asshole until it opened enough to accept it. He hissed a bit at the initial burn, but pushed in until it was firmly inside and let go, lubing his cock and pressing it up inside the water-filled toy. Reaching behind himself, he took hold of the head of the hairbrush and began plunging the handle in and out of himself, his other hand frantically masturbating the sleeve on his cock, chest pressed to the bed.

He came surprisingly quickly, shooting all over his floor, the water toy pressed tightly up against his groin as he spurted. His ass throbbed around the brush and he panted, feeling hot and needy. He spread his thighs a bit more, hunkered, and fucked his hole roughly with the brush, his mouth open in silent pleasure, only the slick sound of his union with the hairbrush on the air in the room. His toes curled, the brush shifted, he hit his prostate, and he absolutely howled with pleasure, slamming against it again and again, cum dribbling from his prick with every time he did it. It felt so good.

It kept him high for a while, kept him imagining what he truly wanted and kept his ass throbbing around the makeshift toy. He shoved his face against the mattress and cried out Bruce's name, jerking the water toy over his cock desperately, wanting to cum and completely unable to unleash this load despite how big it felt. He fucked himself more frantically, sobbed out Bruce's name again and again into the mattress and it was only because he'd honed his skills as Robin that he heard the door creak open behind him. He stilled, held his breath until he couldn't and then whined, the sound pitiful and needy.

Someone crouched behind him and the instant he inhaled, he knew it was Bruce. He yanked the hairbrush free of his ass and presented himself, scrambling to put himself at a convenient height for Bruce to fuck him. His cock stood rigid, the water toy tight around the base of his penis, and he waited, breathless until Bruce's hand came to rest on his lower back.

"Tell me what you need."

"You to fuck me!" The words were frantic, less so than the truth of it though.

"Jason," the single word came out as an admonishment and Jason nearly sobbed, reaching under himself to start jacking off again, doing his best to present his hole.

"Please. Please. This... this isn't new!" He needed Bruce to understand that he wasn't just needing him because of Ivy, but because he'd spent most of his time by his side stroking and thinking about him at night, pushing things up his ass in place of the cock he wanted pressed up there. "Need you to fuck me, please! I need your cock!"

There were a few moments where the air all but crackled and then Bruce was there, warm behind him, robe parted and falling on either side of Jason's ass, skin pressed to skin, and Bruce's warm dick sliding along his crack. Bruce caught on his rim, pressed, dipped the head of his prick in and then pulled out. Warmth trickled down his crack and then Bruce was pressing in with the slickness, sliding in to the hilt and leaning over his back. His stronger hips began to move, jarring Jason on his cock, fucking up into him with every powerful thrust, prick reaching deep inside him.

Jason eased against the bed, everything frantic in him subsiding and just letting him enjoy this union. He felt blissed out, on cloud nine, like he was a million miles up in the sky and free falling and happy. Every press of Bruce's dick up inside him sparked pleasure along his nerves and every time he pulled out Jason's own cock flexed, strained, and spilled pre-cum down his shaft. The toy felt tight around him, as if his cock was swelling.

Bruce's hand closed around the water toy and masturbated it up and down his shaft and Jason lost it, shaking, crying out as he let loose the bone-deep orgasm he'd been trying to let out all night. Every spurt of cum felt like he was releasing a torrent, every spray thick and fulfilling as he emptied himself truly for Bruce's hand, for his prick shoved so far up in his asshole he'd never forget it.

Bruce's hips humped frantically against him, his cock plunging in and out obscenely, Bruce's rough breathing telling Jason he was close - so close - and then he was pushed into harshly, arched up from his position a bit, and Bruce's cock began to pulse, emptying himself where he was speared up inside him.

Jason let loose the final throb of his orgasm with a shout of Bruce's name and Bruce slid the sheath off, cradled his aching penis in his hand and leaned against his shoulder, kissing him every so gently , whispering, "It's okay, I have you. Let go."