Disclaimers: Not even remotely mine.

Spoilers: Nary a one. Pre-Death in the Family.

Summary: I think we're in best-birthday-ever land, here.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content which dovetails
neatly with the content some readers may find a little too
crack-addled.

Author's Note: Petra, Jack, and I spent way too much time
discussing Petra's Clean as a washed stone
this morning. Somehow, it led here in a manner which
seemed, at the time, entirely natural.

Acknowledgments: To Petra, Jack, Betty, Derry, and LC,
who all saw parts of this and failed to discourage me at
*all*.
 
 

It's not his fault.

Okay, so it's totally -- it totally kind of sucks that that's the
first thing in his head when he jogs down the stairs and
sees *that*, it's gotta suck for Bruce and all, but it sucks
even more that, while it's the first thing in his *head*, it's
really not the first *thing*.

And, well.

He's gonna be fifteen in about ten minutes, and there's a
six foot two *chick* down there who's naked and makes
Wonder Woman look like some gangly twelve year old
weakling, besides, and it's not his fault.

Because.

Naked.

"Uh."

"You recognize me."

Six foot two naked chick with -- those gotta be *double*
D-s, and also freaking --

"Don't you...?"

"Well, *yeah*, Bruce, I was *there* when you got that
scar on your -- uh." See, that's kind of one of the first
lessons of puberty, right there. You can look -- you don't
really have a *choice* about *looking* -- but pointing
makes you look like an ass, pisses *her* -- whoever 'her'
is -- off, and pretty much guarantees that your finger
isn't getting any closer, ever.

Still, though, he really can't say 'crotch,' and even though
he thinks Bruce probably expects him to be able to say
'mound,' and he'd had to work not cross his legs really
tight when Al was doing the stitching and --

"Uh. I was there. For that. And uh." He stops pointing and
waves kind of weakly, instead. "Others."

Bruce nods, slowly, staring at him with big, blue eyes that
are also Bruce eyes but are big and blue and kind of naked
and also naked.

"You should be more suspicious."

And, really, if it was a supervillain who got into the Cave
and was also naked and looking like -- being that fucking
*stacked*, and -- "I know. I mean. Uh."

"There are tests you should've -- or, at the very least --"

It's hard to figure out why Bruce is kind of stuttering like
that. Or, well. It's hard to... figure. Period. Kind of.

"This voice..."

Oh. Yeah. That. "Well, uh. I mean. You don't really sound
like a chick. So much as. Um. I mean. If it helps."

He knows -- he *knows* -- that that eyebrow-raise pretty
much *always* comes complete with Bruce's mouth
getting all pursed and disapproving. It's just that.

"Jason --"

"Your lips. I mean. They're -- ah --"

"Bigger, yes, I --"

"Lush. Kind of. I mean." Jason swallows, and swallows
again, and it's actually kind of a relief to have so much of
his mind screaming at him, because that means some part
of him is *totally* making an effort, even though it's not
really anything like a useful one. Or. "That probably wasn't.
The best word."

"You *don't* think the new... configuration of my mouth
is... lush?"

"Ah. Crap. I totally do and I'm sorry. Because. So about
clothes? You have. Clothes. Somewhere, right?
Because --"

Bruce -- crosses his arms. It's the same move as always,
one big -- *big* -- Bruce mix of being amused and
impatient and Jason-it's-not-a-game and -- everything. It's
the same. Except that now it comes complete with huge --
DD on *top* of the fucking *pecs* -- beautiful -- there are
plums that wish they looked that sweet -- nipples that
move. When he -- she -- *he* does it.

"Oh... damn. Bruce, man, I can't ah --" He waves a hand,
again, and this time it's kind of like teasing himself, because
he's hiding one breast from view and then the other and if
he was any closer it wouldn't work.

The optical illusion. That is.

"So. What happened? And also -- clothes?"

"We're naked together all the time --"

"Yes, and I'm *used* to that, and also then you had a
*dick* and not -- damn, sooner or later you're gonna --
crouch, or bend, or maybe work out, and then I'm gonna
come in my pants, Bruce. I'm sorry, but, like. I'm not
gonna lie to you or anything."

Bruce kind of tightens his grip on himself and makes his
breasts *thrust* --

"Or maybe you'll just -- stand there."

Bruce's frown is actually kind of a relief. It's thoughtful, like,
obviously *thoughtful*, and that would imply that Bruce is
doing some thinking, and that's really good.

That he is. "Yeah, I. You're..." Jason clenches his fists at
his sides to keep from waving or pointing or *anything*
and belatedly remembers that stepping back -- moving
further *away* is also an option.

Which he has.

He uses it.

"You..." Bruce uncrosses his arms, pauses, and stares down
the length of them -- long and scarred and the hair on his
upper arms is either too thin to see or just *gone*, but the
hair on his lower arms...

And there's still totally a little creeping down over his big
knuckle-y hands, big-scarred -- long fucking *fingers* --

"Jesus. Jesus, Bruce. Seriously, what *happened*?"

"Zatanna was being mind-controlled. We rescued her, but
she hasn't been able to -- it will be at least a few hours
before she can repair all of the damage," he says, in that
low and kind of sweet and *woman* voice -- and Jason
hadn't been lying *really*.

You can't really call that a chick-voice.

"In any event, that's not the point. There's nothing... you
can do," Bruce finishes, and he'd started all brisk and stuff
but now he's not. Maybe it's the fact --

No, it's gotta be the fact that his hands don't really look like
they used to. Right? "Hey, I -- I mean, they don't really
look like chick *hands*. If that. Uh. Helps."

Bruce's smile is a little -- a lot -- pained. "I appreciate. The
attempts. Jason, are you going to be able to *work* with
me?"

No. Really, really. Well. "Yes."

And it's the right answer but also completely the wrong
one, because Bruce looks so *relieved* --

"I mean. Uh. We're --"

"Obviously, I won't be able to patrol, but I was hoping you
could work with me on the reports, and I really wanted to
watch you do the new katas --"

"Uh Bruce." *Really* kind of a good thing the League stuff
meant they were gonna be off tonight, anyway. "I mean. I
meant. We're gonna. Can we. Can I have? A minute?" And
Jason thinks he probably looks like some kind of junkie
spastic with the way he's gesturing with his entire *body*
towards the showers and bathroom, but.

Bruce frowns. "Jason...?"

Oh, crap. "Aw, man, are you gonna *make* me say it?
Bruce, that's just not fair."

And he has never, ever seen an expression like that on
Bruce's face. Ever. It's totally for the best that Bruce *gets*
it, but not if it's gonna make him go all wide (naked) eyed
and... well, at least he doesn't look horrified -- Jason knows
*that* expression, even if it's never for him, but maybe it
would be better.

Better than. Well, Bruce *knows* him. "I'm uh. You're
really *surprised*? Jesus, Bruce, *look* at you!"

"Jason --"

"No, no, don't cut me off here, man, you're you, but you've
got these massive breasts and these hands and that mouth
and I haven't even *seen* your ass yet, but I can see your
*hips*, and I don't think it's totally beyond the freaking
*pale* that I gotta spank it before I can do *anything*
else," he says, and crosses his *own* arms, and maybe
glares and maybe possibly stares at Bruce continuing to
breathe just like a living, breathing, more massive than life
itself dear fucking Jesus woman.

He's totally not glaring.

"Fuck, you're *huge*."

"There is -- such a thing as conservation of *mass*,
Jason --"

"Yes, there *is*, and *thank* you for the fact that I'm
gonna be rock hard in fucking *physics* class every day
now --"

"Jason. Can you."

"*What*, man? This is getting *dire* here --"

"It's just -- I don't even have any *disguises* that fit
properly -- I didn't mean to --"

"Lead me on, I *get* it. Fucking -- Permission to jerk off
right *now*, Batman, or I'm going to come *through*
my pants --"

"Jay --"

"God *dammit* --"

And, okay, he's been cursing a *lot*, and there *is* a line
between justified and just pissing Bruce off, and he can go
with the idea that maybe he'd crossed it, and even crossed
it in a way that would make it necessary for Bruce to toss
him like a fucking rag-doll, but a) the mats are over
*there*, and b is for *breasts*.

In his *face*.

"Bruce -- *God* --"

"I'm afraid I can't. Give you. Permission."

Which would suck, or possibly just be insane, but Bruce is
using those long big, *big* woman-fingers to undo his
pants, and the only possible response is to --

Well, okay, so it's a yelp, which sucks, but the important
concern is that so does *Bruce*.

"Holy fucking -- holy -- mouth -- soft -- *soft* --"

And then he's grunting and pumping and, really, bad
fucking *form* --

"Oh god fucking dammit, your --"

'Lips,' he was gonna say, and it's possible that he even does,
but since he's coming in Bruce's *mouth* at the time, he
really profoundly lippingly *can't* say for sure.

"Mother*fucker* --"

"Jason, really, *language* --"

Jason blinks. And stares.

Bruce stares back.

"Uh."

"As a theory, I'm going to... propose the idea that my
admonishment is less effective than it might have otherwise
been, had I not just performed fellatio on you."

And, see, he's never going to *not* appreciate that -- that
fucking *look* Bruce gets in his eyes like Jason had just
told the funniest joke in the world, and if Bruce wasn't
Bruce then he'd be laughing so hard he'd also be choking,
and the way it always comes along with his mouth
tightening up and.

Jesus. Fuck. *Mouth*.

"You're -- uh."

It's kind of a relief when Bruce raises his eyebrow, because
it makes his expression... sharper, and more. Less. He can
think when Bruce is looking like that.

"Well, you're beautiful, man. Just -- I'm just saying."

He can't think that much, though, and he should probably
try to keep that fact in mind.

Probably try to --

"So are -- Jason."

-- something. "Uh."

"But I... understand that my..."

"Also. You smell. Good. Shit. Bruce, I really still need --"

"Oh, Jay," and for some reason Bruce sounds more like
himself when he says that than he has at any other point
in the last year or possibly maybe it was ten minutes (or
less), but it's. It's.

"Bruce, I'm *sorry*, I just -- I can't -- "

He can't actually move, at all, because Bruce has one hand
on his dick, and his lips are lush and swollen, and his other
hand is on Jason's shoulder, *braced* on Jason's
shoulder --

"Jason, I -- I want --"

Bruce is pushing him down and pulling him and fucking --

Fucking *fucking* him, riding him like maybe there was a
whole important and meaningful stretch of time between
Jason's dick sliding right up *in* the hottest, wettest --

Like maybe they'd talked about this, and Bruce had
explained that, 'yes, of course I'm perfectly okay with you
shoving your penis into my mint new vagina, here, let me
*help*.'

Except for how that hadn't actually happened, as opposed
to what did, and what is, and for some weird reason
Jason's hands are just *killing* him --

"Jay -- Jay, *inside* me --"

"Fuck -- *yes*, Bruce, oh God please tell me I can touch
your breasts because the -- oh fuck oh *Jesus* -- killing
me -- don't fucking *stop* --"

He's digging his fingernails into his own *flesh*, and he has
been for fuck only knows how long, and Jason can't actually
get his knees up -- Bruce is just too *heavy* -- to get the
kind of leverage he needs to fuck the living *hell* out of
Bruce, but possibly that's for the best.

Possibly. Possibly he's watching Bruce get all flushed, all
dark and full of --

He looks like that when he's been working out for
*hours* --

Possibly he's -- smearing that gorgeous tit with the blood
from his palms, and Bruce's mouth falls open, and he
shifts, leans in, bends *in*, and Jason lunges, mouthing
and fucking *lipping* at the air until that other gorgeous
perfect wonderful massive tit is right *there* --

"Bruce," he says, and bucks as much as he can with two
hundred and forty pounds of muscle and bone and *hot*
grinding him down against the cement, and also he says,
"oh, *Bruce*," but probably all of it is just as incoherent
as whatever the fuck Bruce is saying once he gets those
hands into Jason's hair and starts *bouncing*.

This time he screams when he comes, and has a moment
to think, 'shit, *condom*,' before Bruce pushes him back
down to the floor, before he takes those wonderful tits
*away*, and holds Jason down, and *grinds* his hips --

"Fuck, Bruce, *ow* --"

"Jason --?"

"No, shit, keep *going*, I'll be good in a -- in a minute --"

Bruce is staring, flushed and a little -- he looks almost
*scared*, and his hands tighten painfully on Jason's
shoulders and Jason bites the inside of his lip. And focuses.
Kind of.

"Look, you -- I'm just sensitive. And uh -- that was too fast.
For you. Right?"

And the fact that Bruce is totally doing that thing where he
pulls shadows out of fucking *nowhere* to hide his facial
expression *would* actually be just as infuriatingly
confusing as Bruce wants it to be, if Bruce's fucking *pussy*
wasn't clenching around him like that.

Jason grins.

"Jay, you -- I don't want to *hurt* you --"

"I'm kinda thinking your *pussy* has other ideas, man."

And the *wince* he can deal with, but not the fact that the
only thing he can grab onto to keep Bruce from pulling
*off* are those hips. Because there's really no. Dealing.

"Damn, Bruce --"

"Jason, *please* --"

"Yeah, absolutely, anything, just let me get you *off*."

And really, Jason's thinking that's gotta cover things, at least
a *little*, but Bruce is doing that *other* shadows-for-
Jason-as-opposed-to-cops-or-criminals thing -- the one
where it's really painfully obvious that Jason's being
*studied*.

"God, c'mon, you can't *do* that when your pussy is jerking
me off. It's against the *rules* -- oh *fuck* --"

He didn't do that on purpose. He could not possibly -- he
wouldn't --

"Jesus -- *Jesus* --"

Except for how he totally would, and did, and *is*, and
Jason thinks he'll die if he tries to think too deeply about
just what muscles the one's in Bruce's cooch are -- fucking
*corresponding* to -- but also he'll die if he doesn't start
thrusting again.

"C'mon, c'mon, *let* me --"

"I think --" Bruce *grunts*, and it's almost a freaking tenor
and it's fucking *sweet*, and --

"Don't *think* --"

"-- I could -- be satisfied if -- physically --"

"*I* can't --"

And Jason's got sunbursts behind his eyelids, which is the
first information his body has chosen to provide about how
he'd closed his eyes again, but it still takes another forever
for him to realize that Bruce is -- sliding on him, that's a
*clit* in there somewhere -- kissing him, licking his
mouth --

"Jesus, you taste like my *come* --"

Bruce is groaning, squeezing, *squeezing* and rising up
above -- when did he open his eyes again, and his hair is
a spiked and sweaty mess and his tits are shifting like --
like fucking planets up there, and his mouth is wide open
because he's moaning --

He's saying Jason's name, over and over and *over*, and
the leverage still *sucks*, and no, it *doesn't* matter
that Bruce has the kind of big, meaty, hairy thighs that
mean Jason totally doesn't *need* to help with the fucking,
because he totally and completely *needs* to help with the
fucking.

Just --

"Oh, *goddamn*, Bruce, you -- fuck *me* -- weigh a
*ton* --"

"That's not -- very -- gentlemanly --"

"Let me *do* you, you feel -- you smell so good -- I'll get
straight As until I *die*, just --"

And then the world changes places, or maybe just he does,
and Bruce is nowhere near on top of his game unless he'd
*wanted* Jason to wind up face-first in his tits, which
would be the kind of possibility he could *go* with if his
dick hadn't also slipped *out* a little --

"Fuck* --"

"Jay, *faster*."

"Yes, *sir*!"

And no, it totally is not his best performance ever, and the
act of getting his arms under Bruce's fantastic thighs is one
that makes him grateful for every hour spent working out,
and also for the fact that he's alive, and also to whichever
psychotic evil bastard was diddling Zatanna's brain, and
also to Jesus, and Buddha, and *in*, right to the fucking
slicking-up-with-Bruce's-come *sac* --

Right to the goddamned *soul*, and there's nothing like
thought in his head, nothing like a *brain* in his head,
because Bruce just kneed him in the jaw and it's possible
that Bruce's damned pussy is gonna wrench his dick right
off and he doesn't *care* --

Wait.

"Did -- did you just come?"

"*Yes*, don't stop --"

"No fucking *way*," and he totally deserves all kinds of
points for how there's -- thing -- but mostly what he
deserves is to be struck dead right now, because once he
gets Bruce's other leg up on his shoulder, once he gets a
*good* rhythm, *he's* making Bruce's tits bounce, and
that's totally different from Bruce doing it himself.

It just is.

It's -- like the *solar system* down there --

"Jay... oh, *Jay* --"

-- and that totally makes him *God*. "Can't -- oh God, man,
I can't look away from your *tits* --"

And he thinks that sound Bruce is making is probably a
laugh on top of a groan, which is also way better than he
deserves --

"Just -- little *orbits* --"

"Jay, *yes* --"

"I can't -- I don't want to stop, I -- please, Bruce, don't
make me *stop* --"

"*Come*, Jason."

And he has just enough time to think, "dude, why'd you
have to say *that*?" and to *start* thinking about how to
express the utter unfair --

And then he hears something small and painful and utterly
satisfying pop in his back because he's arching so hard,
then he opens his mouth and screams *air*, because
apparently all the noise is coming out of his dick with the
come.

Still, there's something to be said for having a double-
armful of Bruce's thighs, if only because he can either
fall backwards and crack his skull or stay exactly where
he is, held up and bruised and cradled by the hottest
woman since ever.

"Uh," he says, fervently.

"How long."

"Uh?"

"Jason. Open your eyes."

Right, right. Yeah. He opens his eyes --

And *flexes*, and thrusts even though it totally hurts,
because Bruce is... he's not even doing anything. He's just
looking up at Jason through those naked Bat eyes and he's
got his hands folded under the curves of his breasts and
he's all calm and amused, and then he *grunts* --

"Aw, *Jesus*, Bruce, I was *this* close to having my brain
back --"

"Pull out."

"I..."

"Jason."

Jason squeezes his eyes shut, and then cracks open the
left. "Is that one of those orders I'm allowed to pretend
wasn't in English?"

Bruce laughs, shifting and -- Bruce *moans* --

"Seriously, that can't be -- I mean, I only need a
*minute* --"

"I want you... to take advantage of my breasts while
they're... extant."

"-- okay. I need. To marry you. Uh. Fuck. Uh --"

"Pull *out* --"

"*Fuck* yeah," he says, doing it as steady and easy as he
can since he *can't* manage slow, and Bruce makes this
hot little dirty *sound*, and his pussy makes this hot little
dirty sound that's *bigger*, and -- "Wait."

"Yes, Jason?"

"Um. Uh. Can I...?" He nods toward Bruce's pussy, and licks
his lips, and -- no. It's Bruce. "May I please perform
cunnilingus on you now, boss? Because I think that's an
important thing. To uh. Consider."

And Bruce gets up on his right elbow and *reaches* for
Jason with his left hand, his big woman *hand*, and he
wants it on his dick and up his ass -- *later*, because now
it's in his hair and *yanking*, and see, the thing about
going down on a chick *after* you fuck her is that you
gotta spend some time cleaning up a little -- assuming she
was on the pill instead of you using a --

Fuck, *condom* -- "Bruce --"

"Jason, don't tease. *Please*."

Later, fine, Batman knows best, box in his face, *box*, and
he's never felt better about eating his own come in his
entire life, because every lick makes Bruce tug on his hair,
fingertips scraping Jason's scalp, lighting him up like a
match on sandpaper, and Jason uses the flat of his tongue
*hard* on Bruce's big soft hard perfect clit, over and over,
and Bruce bucks so hard he knocks Jason *back* --

"I'm sorry -- don't --"

"Did you want --"

"*Again*, Jason," he says, and that was totally through his
*teeth*, and Bruce tastes like his come, and he tastes like
his come, and he tastes for just a *second* like the smell
on the inside of his armor after a long hard night, and then
he tastes like some woman, except he doesn't, because it's
Bruce, and so he tastes like some woman who is also
Batman.

Some woman who's gonna break his face in the best way
possible, because Bruce is fucking *rude*, or maybe just
too far gone to care about trying to be a little careful with
his pubic bone, and if he's too far gone for that, then
maybe --

He has no *idea*, because Bruce is pulling hairs *out* of
Jason's scalp now, and his hips are shaking like a
scarred-up, muscular earthquake, and when Jason
decides to give teasing Bruce's tiny little piss slit a tease,
and a lot of tease --

"*Jay* --"

-- Bruce comes on his *face*.

And it's not like he's never had that fantasy, wet dream,
nightmare, fantasy -- whatever, but god *damn*. Still.

If he's gotta be blinking stupidly on his knees, at least he
can be blinking stupidly on his knees between Bruce's
giant fucking thighs.

"J -- Jason..."

"Yeah."

"Jay..."

"Really, yeah. Bruce you just -- you just *came* --"

The chuckle is low and kind of... kind of *rolling*, and it
reminds and *informs* Jason that he's really fucking hard
again.

"I mean you. You just."

"Yes, Jason. I've become accustomed to the event --
recently."

And Jason snorts and chokes, and -- gets it. "No, wait, I
mean -- you just came on my *face*."

"I -- ejaculated?"

"Really -- here, let go of my hair for a sec." Bruce does, and
Jason crawls up over Bruce's body, and totally wins at life
for not losing it entirely when the head of his dick is
dragging over abs and navel and -- yeah. He wins. "See?"

Bruce decides to see with his fingers, or maybe just feel up
his face --

"Uh -- there's none. Over there."

"You're going to bruise. Did I --"

"Your knee, yeah. *Worth it*. But. Yeah. Can I -- I mean,
do you think you can do that again? I *heard* some chi --
some women could *do* that, but I never --"

"Jason --"

"Yeah, I *know*, Bruce, but this is -- important scientific
research," he says, and does his best to look like *Robin*
with come all over his face, as opposed to Jason.

"That -- expression. I --"

And, okay, so laughter isn't the best possible reaction to
Jason trying to look responsible, but it also is, because it's
Bruce.

And because it makes Bruce's breasts -- *breasts*.

"Shit, never *mind*," Jason says, and crawls up a little
further, groaning at the feel of his dick in his own hand,
at the *possibility* -- "Was that offer still... uh. Breasts,"
Jason says, and looks hopeful.

And for just a second that's like a hammer to the shattered
glass of Jason's mind, Bruce stares at him, his face and his
throat and his chest -- it's like he's telling the blush where
to *go* -- and then down to his dick, and --

"Or anything. Anything, Jesus, just let me jerk off right
*here* --"

And if someone ever asks what cuts him off, what cuts his
*brain* off, Jason wouldn't be able to say. It's just that
the look on Bruce's face becomes the look in his *eyes*,
or that it gets louder, bigger --

"Batman," he says, and he can't *care* how helpless he
sounds, and he can't keep himself from stroking. Just once,
no more than three times, and Bruce is -- Bruce is
*watching* this, and Jason feels himself blushing even
harder and he hears himself *whimper*, because Bruce
takes his hand.

Bruce *moves* his hand, and Jason's dick takes the
opportunity to reach for the fucking *sky*, daring to
*dream*, and then there are breasts, and Bruce's hand,
and Jason's dick *between* breasts, and Jason wonders
if you can sprain your eyes from bugging them out too
hard, and then he wonders if Bruce had always had *that*
smile, if he'd maybe just been saving it for dirty sex on the
floor, and he fucking loves dirty sex on the floor, and he
always has, but since it's dirty *massive titty* sex on the
floor, it's even better.

And -- *soft* fucking --

*Scars* fucking --

*On* him fucking, nipples and *breasts*, and Bruce's
*eyes*, and he wants to watch -- feeling it isn't
*enough* -- but he can't stop staring into Bruce's eyes even
though it would *maybe* let him concentrate for long
enough to turn the pump of his hips into something other
than shuddery little *jerks*, just --

Fucking *tits* --!

But then Bruce *closes* his eyes, like maybe he's getting
into it, and Jason fucking sucks, because he only cares
because it's the perfect opportunity to slap Bruce's hands
away from his breasts, replace them with his own, and he's
not an *idiot* -- the *only* way this is usually any good for
the woman is if the nipples get kind of pointed in, and that
was wonderful for his dick --

But Bruce's nipples are even better under his *thumbs*.

And Bruce grunts and *bucks* under him, but Jason's got
his knees planted this time, and he fucking well knows how
to *use* the calluses on his thumbs. Fuck, Bruce has gotten
sliced and shot up and *fucked* up so many times he
barely has *feeling* anywhere in his chest, there's just no
*point* in aiming there during a spar but --

"Jason -- oh, J--Jason --"

All the scars are in slightly different places now, and it
*looks* like all those places are just different enough, and
he's going to marry Zatanna, and Jesus, and maybe also
Buddha, too.

"You like -- you *like* this --"

And Bruce's eyes fly open like --

Bruce looks fucking *pissed*, or he would if his pissed-off
face was anything but that blank line of *death*. He
looks --

He looks like he's gonna eat Jason *alive*, like Jason might
have the upper hand *now*, but just -- just fucking
*wait* --

"God *damn*, Bruce, can I get you off this way?"

"I don't -- I don't *know*," he says, and it's loud and
desperate and Jason hopes Alfred has gone deaf, because
when Bruce flips him *again* and climbs on him *again*,
and fucking devours Jason's dick with his pussy *again*,
Jason's even louder.

Hands on his shoulders -- fingers on his throat, his face --

"So *tight* --"

"Don't come yet --"

"I won't -- I -- Bruce, don't ever fucking --"

"You don't -- you don't know how *long* --"

And it's better that he can barely move, because then it's
all about what Bruce is getting, what Bruce is *taking* --

"I *need* you, Jason --"

It's better that he can't do anything but *sob*, one breath
after another, because the lights are hitting the slick shine
of their juices all over the inside curves of Bruce's breasts
just right --

"*Any* way --"

"Oh fuck oh *fuck* --"

"*Yes*," Bruce says, and there's a big fucking *thumb* in
Jason's mouth and his body isn't sure *who's* getting
fucked anymore, and that's the best, that's always --

Never --

And Bruce shoves *in* and squeezes and *snarls*, and
then his pussy is working Jason's dick *ruthlessly* and
Jason feels his eyes roll back in his head and screams.

And screams again when Bruce just keeps going.

The third isn't a scream so much as a cracked little
whimper, but Bruce is grunting and moving --

Bruce's *breasts* --

Bruce's *eyes* --

Not even blinking, not even --

And Jason is too busy staring to figure out that Bruce has
*stopped* until he feels his dick start slipping out and
realizes that he's not actually capable of stopping it.

"Uh -- God, sorry, I -- I'll just --"

He'll just get kissed, is what he'll do, and his dick slides out
the last inch or so *right* when Bruce's tongue *slides*
under his own, when Jason's tongue slips into Bruce's lush
sweet hot dirty --

No, Bruce's mouth isn't dirty. Bruce's mouth is hard and
soft and *hot*, Bruce's mouth has all the air he'll ever
need, even though Jason's head is starting to pound.
Bruce's mouth is on him, and *Bruce* is on him, and then
he's on Bruce -- rolling again, and Jason's so fucking
blown that the momentum nearly tosses him *off*, but
Bruce catches him with his knees and holds on.

*Good* fucking deal.

"Oh -- gosh. I could come back?"

On the plus side, it's kind of an obscure little relief to
something weird and anal inside Jason that now he knows
that they'd wound up *right* by the JLA teleporter.

On the minus side, he's bareass naked on top of Bruce and
Zatanna's a fucking *gossip*, according to Donna.

"Oh fuck," he says, brilliantly, but Bruce just sort of does
an impressive-for-anyone-who-isn't-Batman sit-up, pushing
them both upright at once and then moving to stand, naked
and massive and woman --

And Bruce catches him before his knees buckle too badly.

"It's fine, Zatanna. Are you able to...?"

Zatanna pokes Bruce in the -- right in the *tit*, damn. "Yep.
All set. That is, if you're sure you --"

"*Zatanna*."

"Okay, okay, and did I mention I was sorry? I mean, a lot of
the past few days is a little hazy, still --"

"Yes. Now, please."

Jason eases his bareass naked self behind Bruce's -- holy
*crap* that ass is sweet.

Just. Damn. It's not like he's gonna actually protest Bruce
getting his -- everything -- back, or anything, but Bruce's
ass --

There's actual -- it's all *round*. And -- it's not like Zatanna
has a *good* view of him back here, being as how Bruce is
all Bruce and huge, and maybe if he could just *cup* it a
little, just *once* --

"niaga nam a emoceB!"

-- damn. Now Jason has all *new* reasons to kind of hate
the way Zatanna can make those fucking stupid spells of
hers sound coherent, beyond the whole magic brain
twisting thing.

It's not that Bruce's real ass isn't nice and all, but that thing
was *round* --

"All set? Nothing funny inside or anything?"

Bruce grunts. "I thought you were confident about having
your abilities back?"

"I *am*. It's just. Well.... uh. You got."

"A fair amount of semen running down my thighs. Yes, I'm
aware."

Jason winces, and, for a minute the Cave's so quiet that
he's pretty sure they could both *hear* him do it.

But then Zatanna kind of coughs, and it's all --

"Well. I. So long as you. I'm gonna go. Now. Bye!"

-- normal. Again. Kind of.

Definitely once Zatanna poofs back up to the Tower or
whatever. Jason takes a breath, and another, and --

"Jason..."

"Man, is there any way to *lock* those things from the
outside?"

"Not without risking turning members of the League into
something not unlike pudding, no."

"Right, uh... right. So... showers?"

"Hmm. Yes, I believe that would be wise --"

"Yeah, I'll just --"

"-- given the semen issue."

Jason winces again. "Yeah, about that. I. Uh. Sorry...? Kind
of?"

Bruce turns, looking back over a shoulder that totally *is*
bigger now, again, whichever. It's the normal kind of huge,
though.

Jason waves. And then there's a grin in Bruce's eyes that
makes Jason's dick whimper a little, and --

"But you're not about the pre-ejaculate currently making my
chest hair somewhat disreputable? 'Kind of' sorry, I mean."

Jason bites his lip. "Can I..." He waves a hand in a circle.
"I mean. I just gotta --"

'See,' he was gonna say, and while a good bit of him is
screaming *why*, the rest of him just wants him to know
that Bruce is turning around and... damn. Just, *damn*,
really.

Nothing but a lot of damn. "I didn't think I... that much."

Bruce hums and runs two fingers kind of *briskly* down the
center of his own chest. His fingers come away *shiny*. "To
be fair, I seem to have helped a fair amount," he says,
rubbing his fingers together, and --

Yes, that is absolutely a happy, wonderful mix of Bat-woman
and Robin come, right there. "Man. I kinda want to *save*
some of that. For-- uh."

"Posterity, Jason...?"

Posterity sounds *so* much like posterior. Damn. Jason
swallows, nods, and then does it again when he can look
at Bruce's face as opposed to all the sticky on his fingers.

And Bruce is doing that thing with his eyes that means
Jason was incredibly brilliant and clever some time when
he wasn't paying attention, again, and -- shit. "Bruce, are
you... I mean, you're okay and everything, right?"

He doesn't say anything. He *looks* like he will, and it
*feels* like he will, but all he does is nod after several
seconds, and Jason isn't really sure that counts.

"Seriously, Bruce, that was -- that *had* to be at least a
little fucked up for *you*."

"But not for you...?"

"Uh, really *not*," Jason says, pointing at Bruce's thigh. He
looks, and -- really, he could've pointed at his knees.
*Damn*.

"Jason."

"No, *seriously*. I think we're in best birthday ever land,
here."

It makes Bruce blink, but it's one of those blinks that feel
like 'I'm glad you're Robin,' so that's... that's really.
Hunh.

Just -- "Bruce, it's not like I'm trying to get us to hang out
naked until all that jizz turns to cement or anything --"

"Of course not," he says, sounding a little strangled.

"-- but. Uh. You said..."

"Jason, it was -- you don't. Have to bring it up."

And *that*, right there, is what he'd meant with the 'okay'
thing, and so it feels a little fucked-up to just -- barrel *on*,
but it also feels necessary. "Look, Bruce, I'm just saying --"

"Jason, *please*."

"*No*, Bruce, I mean, I'm totally fine with boning you any
time you come back here with a vagina, but it's not like we
have to *wait*."

And --

And he doesn't know what he was expecting, but it totally
wasn't Bruce looking like *he* was the one who'd been
getting his dick tenderized. "*Jesus*, Batman --"

"That was -- it's good that you're... unfazed, but Jason, that
was wholly inappropriate on my part, on *both* our
parts --"

"You gotta be kidding me. You -- gotta be *kidding* me,"
he says, and when he thumps Bruce on his big flat hairy
*plain*, like fucking *meadows* -- when he thumps Bruce's
chest, he gets sticky, but, as far as Jason's concerned,
that's the whole *point*. "I mean, it's not like Zatanna is
gonna keep her mouth *shut*, she told *everybody* about
that time when GL passed out and had naked green light
construct chicks running around the Tower --"

"That's not the point --"

Jason rolls his eyes. "Oh come the fuck *on* --"

"Language --"

"*Fucking*," Jason says, and glares.

Bruce glares back.

And, okay, he knows full well that the only times Bruce
*doesn't* win the glare-offs are when it's a draw because
Jason bails, but there's --

Okay, so it's probably not principle, or anything remotely
like principle. Or --

It's not what *Bruce* would call principle, even though you
can totally tell he *wants* to, sometimes, and sometimes
it's a little freakish that he knows things like that about the
guy, but not when they're naked and covered in come.

It can't be like that. It *can't* be. "Bruce, it's --"

It's Bruce's *mouth* on him again, only this time it's *just*
hard, and it still tastes like Jason's come, and there's still
that tongue, and Bruce is *kissing* him, and Jason's
surprised enough that he punches Bruce in the side of the
head reflexively.

And he will totally apologize for that just as soon as they
stop kissing.

Any minute now.

Any -- there. "Sorry 'bout that, man," Jason says, and drops
to his knees.

"You're -- *Jay* --"

Yeah. Like *that*.

And maybe Bruce'll *bruise*.

end.