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take me in your tender arms, roll me in the dirt

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Their annual joint birthday party went later than usual this year. With new members in the League, new additions to Bruce’s family, and the fact that this was their first year as a couple, the process of saying goodbye to all the guests took half an hour. The cake and presents before that took ages. If Bruce had it his way, they would spend their birthdays in a bed, only leaving for food. Hell, even Hal had started to look like he wanted to be anywhere else near the end.

When they finally make it through the door of Bruce’s bedroom, Hal flops backwards onto his bed with a dramatic groan.

“Since when did those things include so many people? I don’t remember the watchtower feeling that small last year,” Hal says. Bruce hums in agreement and leans back against the door, taking in the sight of Hal Jordan spread across his bed. He drags his eyes across the other man’s body, gaze lingering on his thighs. The jeans that Hal had worn clung to his legs almost as snugly as his uniform does.

If Bruce wasn’t already half-hard in his jeans from Hal “accidentally” brushing up against him all night, he would be from the sight of Hal’s legs spread out on the bed like they were now.

Hal pushes himself up on his elbows and gives Bruce a smug smile.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna come over here?”

Bruce rolls his eyes but pushes himself off the door and stalks towards the bed, stopping to toe off his shoes. Hal quickly follows suit as Bruce crawls onto the mattress, hands bracketing Hal’s head, legs slotting between Hal’s. Their hips aren’t touching just yet.

Bruce stops for a moment, takes in the sight before him. Brown eyes looking up at him, hair that started the night styled now sticking every which way. The smirk on Hal’s lips softens to something sweeter. Hal’s hand comes up to grab Bruce’s shirt and pull him into a kiss, but Bruce dodges Hal’s lips and starts pressing kisses anywhere he can reach.

Hal’s forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids as they flutter shut, his chin, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Hal takes advantage of that one and turns his head to kiss Bruce properly.

Kissing Hal still makes Bruce’s breath catch in his throat, still makes electricity shoot down his chest. Makes his racing thoughts narrow down to the feeling of soft lips against his own, the feeling of Hal’s tongue licking into this mouth. The feeling of warm hands running across his jaw, down his neck and torso, under his shirt. They have to break apart for Hal to lift his shirt off, and Bruce takes advantage of the pause to pull Hal’s shirt off as well.

The feeling of their bareskin touching as Bruce leans back down makes him feel weak. Bruce lowers himself to his elbows as he lays his body across Hal’s. They’re lips connect again, and the new angle makes their hips brush together.

Hal moans, breaking their lips apart as he throws his head back. Bruce smiles and rolls his hips into Hal’s, just to hear him make that noise again.

He can’t resist the sight of Hal’s neck stretched out before him, so he attaches his mouth to skin and leaves a trail of feather-light kisses from Hal’s jaw to his collarbone.

They’re both hard in their jeans now, hips grinding against one another, pulling whines from deep in Hal’s throat. They could both come like this, they have come like this many times before, but Bruce is desperate to pull as many noises as possible out of Hal, desperate to have him fall apart under his touch.

So Bruce continues kissing down Hal’s torso, drags his hands over Hal until they settle on his hips. He glances up, makes sure Hal is watching as he presses a kiss on Hal’s jeans, right over his crotch. Hal’s eyes are wide, his mouth open as he pants, already worked up from having Bruce’s hands on him.

Bruce is slow and deliberate as he brings his hands to the buttons on Hal’s jeans. Hal tries desperately to grind into Bruce’s palm. Bruce pins his hips to the bed, which makes Hal let out a particularly loud whine.

“Yeah?” Bruce asks, his voice rough. Hal nods his head frantically and Bruce chuckles, quickly unbuttoning Hal’s jeans the rest of the way and shoving them down along with Hal’s underwear. He barely dodges Hal’s feet as they kick the clothes somewhere off to the side.

Bruce runs his hands over Hal’s thighs, places kisses against his skin, undeterred by Hal’s frustrated groan. He sucks a hickey into his inner thigh, kisses over it and turns to the other thigh to do the same. It’s no secret that Bruce loves Hal’s thighs, something they’ve explored many times. Just the thought of coming between them has Bruce grinding against the mattress.

“Come on, Bruce,” Hal whines. Bruce raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, I think you deserve a little payback,” Bruce says. Hal groans and flops down on the bed, resigning himself to the feeling of Bruce’s mouth exploring everywhere but where he wanted it most.

Bruce slowly makes his way to Hal’s cock, lips just barely brushing the base. Hal’s hips twitch again, trying to thrust upwards, so Bruce pins them down again as he licks a line up his cock.

“Fuck, yes,” Hal moans. Bruce smiles before taking the tip of Hal’s cock into his mouth, curling his tongue around it and sucking. Hal cries out and one of his hands flies to Bruce’s head to tangle in his hair, pulling a moan out of Bruce.

Bruce takes the rest of Hal into his mouth with the same single minded focus that he has for most things. Hal’s moans get louder and his babbling gets more incoherent. Just listening to him makes Bruce throb in his jeans.

Hal’s hips push upwards again as he comes down Bruce’s throat. Bruce holds him down, swallows it all until Hal turns boneless. He pulls off with a rather obscene pop and looks up at Hal. There’s a stupid grin on his face.

“Come here,” Hal whispers, tugging Bruce upwards by the grip on his hair. Their kiss this time is lazier, slower. It still makes Bruce feel like he’s on fire.

Hal’s other hand trails to his jeans, opens them just enough to stick his hand down Bruce’s boxers. As soon as Hal has a hand wrapped around Bruce, he knows he’s not going to last long. It only takes a minute for stars to burst behind his eyelids, for white hot electricity to shoot through his lungs.

When he comes back down, he kicks his pants off the rest of the way and settles against Hal.

“Goddamn, baby,” Hal laughs. Bruce hums and traces patterns over Hal’s chest.

“Happy Birthday,” Bruce whispers, stretching upwards to place a kiss on Hal’s chin. Hal turns his head and kisses Bruce’s forehead.

“Happy Birthday, love.”