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“I’m sorry,” Jon squeaked into his phone as soon as the call connected, “you want me to what?”
It was a lazy, uneventful Sunday afternoon. Jon had been midway through a patrol. And Damian, his best friend of over a decade, had just asked him, in not so many words, if Jon would fuck him in case of an emergency.
Over text.
Jon had nearly flown into a tree.
On the other end of the line, Damian clicked his tongue irritably. “Why are you calling me?”
Jon rolled his eyes, now in the safety of his bedroom. Patrol could wait. “Um, because of the text you sent me five minutes ago? Duh?”
“This doesn’t need to be a phone call. It’s a simple yes or no question, Jon. Would you or wouldn’t you?”
Jon gaped, even though Damian couldn’t see it. “Dames. In what universe is that a simple yes or no question. The kind you could send as a text, even. What the hell, man?”
Damian was quiet for a long moment. “Is that a no?” he said eventually.
Jon groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. He was already feeling exhausted and they’d only been talking about this for less than a minute. “It’s not an anything. I just—why are you even asking? I didn’t think you’d, uh, want…”
He trailed off, turning pink. ‘I didn’t think you’d want me’ was an objectively true and fairly neutral statement, for all that it felt like Jon would be baring his soul to say it aloud. Jon hadn’t thought that Damian would want him. And that was fine – after all, why would he think that, when Damian had barely shown any interest in girls, let alone guys. Let alone Jon.
What Damian didn’t know was how long it had taken Jon to convince himself that he was okay with that.
There was a brief rush of air from the other end of the line. A sigh. Jon could picture Damian’s face with crystal clarity, that sullen mouth thinned with impatience. “It’s not about want. What about the word ‘emergency’ is unclear to you?”
“A sex emergency?” Unable to help himself, he huffed out a laugh. “Dames, I know you’re a teenager, but being horny doesn’t constitute an emergency—”
“Quiet,” Damian snapped. “If you’re just going to be juvenile—”
“Um, yeah, you’re the juvenile—”
“I’m eighteen.”
“A teenager,” Jon repeated, smothering a laugh when Damian made a noise of irritation. He always hated when Jon made fun of his age. Or his height. Or his…well, come to think of it, pretty much anything. “But you’re right, sorry. I’ll behave. Tell me about your hypothetical sex emergency.”
Damian sniffed, mostly mollified. “It’s more theoretical than hypothetical. As you may recall, I recently turned eighteen, so I am now a legal adult.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know. I was there. What does that have to do with—”
“I’m getting there,” Damian said curtly. “A few days after my birthday, Father told me that now I am of age, I must complete some paperwork designating individuals who could…assist me if the need arose.”
Jon blinked. “Assist you. In a sex emergency.”
Damian’s sigh was terribly put upon. “Yes, Jon. In a sex emergency.”
“Right. Okay,” Jon said, even though none of this sounded okay, really. “And, uh, I hate that I keep having to ask this, but – and please for the love of god just answer me this time – what the hell is a sex emergency.”
“Poison Ivy, mainly.”
Jon frowned. “The pretty plant lady?”
“It upsets and disturbs me that this is your impression of her. You do realize that she’s a villain, don’t you?”
“Shut up, D, I’m processing.” Jon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember everything he knew about her. Damian didn’t usually like to give him too many details about Gotham’s rogues, so most of what he knew was through the news or the hero grapevine. “She’s got these, like, mind control pheromones or something, right? They make people fall in love with her and do whatever she says?”
“She can produce a variety of different plant-based chemicals, with varying effects.”
Realization dawned. “Oh. Oh god. And one of them makes you, you know…need sex? As in, medically? That’s the sex emergency?”
“Yes. Well done, I knew you’d get there eventually,” Damian said dryly.
Jon ignored the condescension by rote. “That’s crazy. Like, even for superhero stuff. Hell, even for Gotham that’s crazy. What happens to you if you don’t…you know. Resolve the emergency.”
“The affected individual becomes feverish and insensate and remains in extreme discomfort until the effects wear off. Symptoms can be mitigated with treatment, but not meaningfully alleviated.” He sounded like he was reading from a manual, although Jon knew he was probably reciting what Batman had told him near verbatim. There was a slight pause, before Damian added mildly, “Death is an unlikely outcome.”
Jon nearly snapped his phone in half. “Death?!” he shrieked.
“Calm down! I said it was an unlikely outcome, didn’t I?”
“But not impossible? Dude, that’s still kind of an important detail!”
Damian let out a sigh. “Most things we do carry a risk of death, especially in our line of work.”
“And I can’t believe there’s paperwork for this.”
“There have been enough prior incidents that Batman decided bureaucratizing the process was necessary,” Damian said stiffly – the first sign of open discomfort he’d shown throughout this whole conversation. “I…have elected not to think about that for my own sanity.”
“Understandable,” Jon said with a wince. He could definitely sympathize with Damian’s discomfort. One time he’d accidentally heard Kon going at it – an unfortunate hazard of super-hearing – and he’d been all but scarred. “So…does that mean Batman—”
“Is this really what you want to focus on?” Damian snapped.
“No. Yes.” Jon thought for a moment. “Okay, definitely not, actually. I guess what I really wanna know is, uh… Why me?”
“You’re my best friend,” Damian said simply, which never failed to make Jon feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Also, you’re Superman – Mark 2, at least. You’re trustworthy. It’s an obvious choice.”
“Well, sure,” Jon agreed. “But I’m also, you know. A man.”
“Your gender is not an issue,” Damian said, which— Wait, what.
“Wait, what,” Jon said dumbly, mind still reeling. “What do you mean? Like, not an issue in general? You like men?”
“Yes, Jon,” Damian said flatly. “Do keep up.”
That information probably shouldn’t have shifted Jon’s whole world on its axis, but it did. “So not only are you asking me to help you out in case of a weird sex emergency. This is you coming out to me?”
“I’m not ‘coming out’. It was never a secret. It’s just never come up before.”
“Uh-huh,” Jon said, for lack of anything coherent to say – like maybe pointing out that this very easily could have come up when Jon came out to him, or in any of the years after that.
Like. It would have been nice to know. Is all. Because it was Damian, who was apparently into men and also wanted Jon to hypothetically theoretically have sex with him.
Jon couldn’t stop himself from blurting out: “Who would you ask if I said no?”
He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Why did he think that was a sensible thing to ask? Jon really didn’t want to know the answer to that question. But as Jon’s stomach began to twist itself into knots, he noticed the telltale silence on the other side of the line. Damian hadn’t replied. Which probably meant—
All at once, the knots untwisted. “Oh,” said Jon.
A grunt. “Don’t.”
He grinned. “You don’t have anyone else to ask, do you?”
“I said don’t.”
Jon’s grin widened. “Aw, come on, D. I know you’re not drowning in friends, but you’re not that unpopular. Like, what about the Titans?”
“It would be unprofessional to involve myself casually with people I work with,” Damian said snippily, which was hilarious considering the amount of inter- and intra-team dating that went on within the teenage superhero set. “It might make things awkward in the field, and I can’t have that. Not to mention, the idea of interacting sexually with most of the heroes I know is…horrendous. I would rather suffer in agony.”
Jon’s heart really shouldn’t have fluttered at that not-even-a-compliment. “Aww, you think I’m not horrendous?”
Damian let out a snort. “At the very least, you haven’t previously had ‘relations’ with one of my family members.”
Ah. Good point. “Uh, well what about that one girl? Flatline? Didn’t you guys have a, uh…thing?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. And then, in the ultra-clipped tone Damian used when he was feeling uncomfortable: “Don’t feel obliged to say yes. If the idea of being with me sexually is that repulsive to you—”
“Whoa, hey,” Jon said quickly, softly. “That’s not what this is about, okay?” Damian remained stubbornly silent, so Jon found himself pressing on. “I don’t think you’re repulsive at all. You’re—”
—pretty much the exact opposite of repulsive, Jon didn’t say. Infuriatingly, devastatingly gorgeous. All coiled, deadly grace and hauntingly green eyes, only eighteen and yet already the strongest person Jon knew. But not someone he’d let himself consider an option, not since he was a stupid kid with a burgeoning crush on his cool, older partner. Even though he’d guiltily thought about him in ways he shouldn’t have over the years since he'd become the older one, in quiet moments alone when there was nothing else to distract him from the thought of Damian’s hands, or his hair, or his lean muscles, or his mouth, or—
“You’re my best friend. You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Jon finished. “I’ve got your back. Always.”
“Okay,” Damian said quietly, clearly pleased and trying to hide it. Jon bit back a grin. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Sure thing,” Jon said. “But you should probably figure out someone else to put on there, in case I’m not around to help.”
“Perhaps,” Damian grumbled. “But be warned: I’ll be putting you as my first option.”
Geez, that really shouldn’t have made his heart flutter.
When Jon actually got The Summons a little under a year later, he’d very nearly convinced himself it was never going to happen, and the whole internal mental breakdown he’d had over maybe possibly one day having medically necessary sex with Damian would be for nothing.
But then his world flipped on its axis again when he saw the message from Oracle:
Robin has been hit with Ivy’s toxin and needs assistance. You’re the first contact on his prior consent form. Are you available to help him through this?
Jon was texting back a yes with shaking fingers before he could really think about it. Probably he should have stopped to think about what he was doing, the fact that he was about to have sex with his best friend, who wasn’t even in his right mind. But the words ‘first contact’ made him impulsive.
If Jon said no, then who else would Oracle call? Would someone else be the one helping Damian through this…whatever it was? Jon had spent many years telling himself that when Damian eventually did date someone for real, Jon would be a good friend and support him, even if it killed him. But now that Jon actually had a real choice in front of him…
God. This really was a bad idea, huh?
But then again, when else would Jon get this chance? And Damian had asked for him. He might as well make the most of it, right? Who knew, maybe sleeping with Damian after all this time on-and-off crushing on him would help Jon finally get over it, once and for all.
…Ha. He wasn’t even fooling himself with that one.
He was already halfway through a superspeed shower (even if this was essentially medical treatment, he was about to have sex, so he should make sure he was clean and shaven and smelled nice, right?) and pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans when Oracle sent him the address to the Waynes’ Gotham penthouse, along with a boilerplate list of symptoms to monitor and risks to take into consideration. Jon skimmed over them all on the flight over, heart in his throat, willing his whirling mind to focus on reading.
“Damian?” he called out as soon as he opened the door to the roof terrace. He scanned the room. It was dark, but Jon could still see Damian as if it were bright daylight. He was alone in the apartment, sitting on the couch in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that were probably horrifically expensive, knees hugged tight to his chest. He looked—
Jon pulled up short. “God, D. You look terrible.”
He did look terrible. He was clearly not well, unnaturally flushed and drenched in cooling sweat, breathing forcefully controlled but still ragged. His normally sharp eyes were obviously glassy with fever, even though he had chosen to glare at the floor rather than look at Jon.
Damian curled into himself a little tighter and snorted. “Gee, thanks. Were you always such a charmer?”
Jon allowed himself a tentative smile. At least his best friend was still in there, even if he was affected by Poison Ivy’s weird sex drugs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. How are you feeling?”
Another snort. “Bad. Obviously.”
“I was kinda hoping for a little more detail,” Jon said dryly. When Damian stayed stubbornly silent, he let out a quiet sigh. “Can I turn the light on? Or is there a reason you’re sitting in the dark?”
The curled up ball of Damian just gave a shrug, but only a little one. Jon flitted over to the standing lamp in the corner of the room and flicked it on as a compromise. When dim, yellow light flooded the room, Damian’s eyes finally flickered over to him and lingered for a good few seconds, trailing up and down Jon’s body before he tore his gaze away to stare fixedly at the floor again, legs pulled in a little tighter.
Nothing had even happened, really, but Jon felt hot all over.
“Um,” he said, frantically trying to grab onto his previous train of thought. He sat down on the couch beside Damian, shifting away slightly when Damian flinched suddenly. Jon could hear his heart going a mile a minute. He eyed Damian’s hands warily, clenched like vices around his own elbows. Damian’s grip strength was very impressive for a human; that had to be hurting him, right?
“So. What are your, you know, symptoms?” Jon asked, just like the messages from Oracle told him he should. It suddenly occurred to Jon that Damian’s whole family probably knew what was about to happen between them. Man, this whole situation was really weird.
Damian muffled a frustrated growl into his knees. “Jesus Christ, isn’t it obvious?”
“Oracle said we should debrief first, as long as you’re still lucid! And you seem pretty lucid to me.” Thank god. Jon wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Damian hadn’t been. “C’mon I’m just following protocol. I don’t want your family coming after me with pitchforks when you’re sober again. And I need to know that you’re, you know, okay with this before I do anything. Work with me here, please?”
Another flinch and a tense pause. “Fine,” Damian hissed, voice tight with frustration. He was trembling slightly all over, Jon noticed. “Although ‘bad’ is honestly a very accurate descriptor. I feel unpleasantly warm and out of breath and light-headed. Everything aches. And worst of all, I keep feeling…” He squeezed the last word out through gritted teeth. “Urges.”
“Right,” Jon said weakly. He probably didn’t need to clarify what kind of urges they were, even if he kind of really wanted Damian to say it out loud for reasons he didn’t like to examine. “And what do you need out of this?”
“What do you mean what do I need?” Damian sneered. “Do I have to explain the birds and the bees to you? I thought they’d teach sex ed in the 31st century.”
Oh boy. He was being extra abrasive tonight, which meant he was probably really uncomfortable. Jon tried to smile encouragingly, even though Damian was still pointedly not looking at him. “That’s obviously not what I’m asking. I mean, what specifically would you like to do? Where’s your comfort level at?”
Damian just grunted in response, clearly irritated, his breathing harsh but even. Damian still wasn’t looking at him. Why wasn’t Damian looking at him?
“As in,” Jon soldiered on bravely, “sex is kind of a broad umbrella term, really. We could stick to hand stuff, or I could, uh, use my mouth, if you like—whoa. D-Damian?”
He let himself be pushed back, and before he could process what was happening Damian was crawling into his lap with a growl, straddling him, hands pressing his shoulders into the cushions, snarling, “Shut. Up.”
Jon wasn’t sure he could have said anything even if he wanted to. Damian was—geez, he was so hot, as in physically. His body was a furnace above him, the lean thighs pressed against Jon’s sides a burning heat even through their clothes. It was a clear reminder that Damian wasn’t well. That this situation wasn’t normal.
But god, he was also just. Hot.
Jon generally tried not to think of Damian as hot, he really did. His crush on his older best friend had been hopeless but still kinda cute when Jon was 11. But after finally coming back from Earth 6 years later only to find his own world had barely moved on without him, suddenly he’d been a 17-year-old with a pointless, lingering crush on a probably-straight 14-year-old who’d never shown any signs of being into him, which was just…even more hopeless and – on days when he was feeling down on himself – maybe a little creepy to boot.
But Damian was just so Damian. It was impossible to spend so much time with him and not to be a little bit in love with him. And it got harder to remember how super-duper off-limits he was as Damian grew up and got broader and stronger and sharper-edged and somehow even prettier. All the endearingly awkward parts of him, like his sticky-out ears and slightly-too-prominent nose, fit seamlessly into his more mature face.
And now, braced above Jon with his flushed skin and bitten-red lips and heaving chest, his piercing, hungry eyes dragging across Jon’s body like he couldn’t figure out where to look first, Jon was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone or anything hotter. Ever.
“Fuck,” Damian hissed sharply, hips jerking suddenly. “It doesn’t…hurt when I’m touching you. It feels so…”
He was starting to look almost dazed, the sharpened edge of his gaze gone blunt and glazed over with lust. And then he was rocking his hips in shallow, urgent motions. Jon’s eyes drifted down Damian’s body almost against his will and he almost groaned when he saw that Damian was not just hard but hard, the bulge of him obscene in his thin sweats. Was that why he’d been sitting all curled up like that? Had he been like this the whole time they were talking?
There was already a wet spot on the front of his pants where he’d leaked through. Jon had never wanted to suck on a piece of overpriced cotton so badly in his life.
Calm down, he told himself dizzily. One of them needed to keep a level head throughout this, after all, and it obviously wasn’t going to be Damian. Because Damian was sick, he reminded himself. This wasn’t—shouldn’t be about what Jon wanted. This was about Damian, who was suffering, and who wouldn’t want to have sex with Jon if he weren’t, so—
Damian rolled against him sinuously, eyes fluttering shut on a stuttered whine. “Jon,” he breathed and oh, oh, oh fuck.
“Jesus,” Jon said in what wasn’t meant to be a whisper but came out as one anyway. He was holding onto his self-control by a thread. God, if Damian knew just how into this Jon was, he’d probably be really grossed out. “Can I… Is kissing okay?”
No sooner had he gotten the words out than Damian made a noise low in his throat, more irritation than pleasure, and crushed their lips together. Jon melted into it helplessly. It turned out Damian’s mouth felt as full and soft as it looked, although the effect was slightly tempered by the violent eagerness of its owner. It wasn’t what Jon had ever imagined their theoretical first kiss would be like – even his guiltiest fantasies usually involved a lot more romantic hand-holding and exactly zero mind-altering substances – but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care. Not when Damian’s mouth was on his and his body was sealed all along Jon’s, rutting desperately against his stomach.
He let his hands settle on Damian’s slim, muscled waist and kissed back eagerly, sliding their tongues together. Damian made a breathless, encouraging noise into his mouth and pressed somehow impossibly closer, and Jon couldn’t help the whine in his throat, the way he pressed up eagerly into the contact, grip tightening—
Damian let out a muffled, desperate groan. And then he was shuddering in Jon’s lap, hips jerking almost violently. He wasn’t kissing back anymore. Jon pulled back in dazed confusion to watch those delicate features crease with agonized pleasure, mouth slack, before Damian collapsed onto his chest with a final, long groan.
It took Jon several seconds to realize that had been Damian coming.
“Holy…wow,” he said intelligently, staring blankly at the ceiling, mortifyingly aware that he was probably never going to be able to look Damian in the eye again without some part of him remembering his face in that moment.
“Shut up,” came Damian’s mumbled reply, addressed mostly to Jon’s right collarbone. “That was not what I meant to do.”
“You mean the orgasm?”
“Yes. And the rest.” He pushed himself up on shaky arms with a soft grunt of effort and grimaced down at his ruined pants. “Ugh. This mess is deeply unpleasant.”
When Jon followed his gaze, his eyes widened. “Um. How the heck are you still so hard? Is that the toxin too?”
Damian rolled his eyes – a familiar exasperation. He definitely looked a little more clear-headed now, calmer and sharp-eyed again. “Did you even read the whole protocol?” he asked flatly. When Jon just smiled sheepishly (he’d skimmed it, okay?) Damian narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “The effects of the drug last for several hours, during which arousal is maintained throughout. Orgasm will only…‘take the edge off’, as it were.”
“Huh.” Jon considered this little factoid in maybe too much detail. “So, you’re just gonna. Keep going? For hours?”
“Yes,” Damian said matter-of-factly, which somehow didn’t stop it from being the hottest affirmation Jon had ever heard in his life. Just the thought of that, of Damian staying hard and aching and desperate for him for literal hours, was…
No. Not for him, Jon reminded himself firmly. Damian wouldn’t be doing this with him if he had a choice. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
“Okay,” said Jon faintly, determinedly not thinking about how hard he was himself, because he was trying to be a good friend, damn it. He really needed to stop getting unhelpfully excited when none of this was even real. “So…now that you’ve taken the edge off, can we talk about boundaries?”
Damian huffed. “Ugh. Must we?”
“Yes, it’s pretty important, actually! I need to know how far you want to take things, okay? You’re not gonna be in your right mind when that stuff kicks in again, so we need to talk about this now.” He chewed on his lip. “Look, we’ll start easy: how far have you gone?”
Damian sniffed haughtily and gestured to the mess soaking his sweats. “This far. Obviously.”
“Well yeah, sure, with me,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “But what about with other people?”
“What other people,” Damian said.
“You know, the other people you’ve…” Jon began. He trailed off as the meaning of what Damian had said sunk in. “Wait. Dames, are you saying that you’re a virgin? Like, completely? Not even third base?”
Damian gave him an odd look. “Why are you surprised?”
Damian really needed to stop casually revealing important information like it was nothing. “Because you’ve kissed people!” Jon insisted. “You told me!” And he was ridiculously gorgeous, and super smart and funny and rich to boot, so surely he could have pretty much anyone he wanted? Sure, Damian was sometimes kinda mean to people he didn’t like – and he didn’t like a lot of people, generally speaking – but it wasn’t like Jon was the only person who liked him. Right?
“Why the hell would you assume that I’d gone further than that?” Damian snapped. “I’ve never mentioned having sex to you before!”
“Well, I-I thought we just didn’t talk about that stuff! I didn’t tell you when I had sex with Jay, did I?”
Damian’s odd look morphed into a scowl. Belatedly, Jon realized that maybe he shouldn’t be talking about his ex during his best friend’s first time. Oh god, it was Damian’s first time. Jon felt kind of bad for not trying to make the whole occasion a little more special. But how could Jon have predicted that Damian had never even come close to having sex before when he’d sounded so casual about the whole thing on the phone? How could he do that if he had zero experience?
Then again, Jon thought despondently…it was Damian.
“Okay, that’s it,” Jon announced. He stood abruptly, taking a squawking Damian with him, legs wrapped vice-tight around Jon’s waist. “You are not losing your virginity on a couch. I refuse! You need some goshdarn romance.”
“Stop being ridiculous,” Damian hissed as Jon walked them both over to the bedroom. “I don’t need ‘romance’, Jon. Virginity is a social construct, so there is no real meaning in its loss, I just n-need you to—”
He broke off with a muffled grunt into Jon’s shoulder when Jon accidentally jostled him getting the bedroom door open. The legs wrapped around Jon’s torso were starting to tremble again. Jon rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. “Oh, D. Is it getting bad again?”
“Shut up and put me down, Kent,” he hissed.
Oof. Back to last names, huh?
He laid Damian down on the bed as gently as he could, considering Damian kept trying to squirm out of his arms like an impatient cat. As soon as his back hit the mattress, Damian was tugging him down into another searing kiss, licking into his mouth. For someone who apparently didn’t do this that often, he was irritatingly good at it.
Jon went with it, crawling over him, drinking in the urgent little noises that kept slipping out from Damian’s throat. When he finally pulled back, that glazed-over look was creeping back into Damian’s eyes. Just like before, he seemed to get more and more out of it with time – strikingly so, even though he was usually really good at keeping his cool. He was already gone enough to let out a petulant growl instead of a cutting remark. “Jon, what are you…?”
“Just a sec,” Jon said, trailing his thumb across the waistband of Damian’s ruined pants. “Can I take these off you? I think you’d be more comfortable.”
“Hurry up,” Damian ground out, which was probably the closest thing Jon was going to get to easy agreement. He readily raised his hips to help Jon pull his pants and underwear off in one go, wincing as the sticky fabric peeled away, and stripped off his shirt with shaking fingers to toss haphazardly by the side of the bed.
Jon couldn’t help but stare. There was so much skin, miles and miles of it over lean, gorgeous muscle, smooth but for the scatter of scars old and new, soft bronze and sparsely dusted with dark, coarse hair. Glistening slightly – with fever sweat, so it probably should have been at least a little gross, but it really, really wasn’t. And in the center of it all was his cock, still messy with the remnants of his seed, perfectly proportioned and so hard it looked painful, practically dripping onto his toned stomach.
Jon was the first person to ever see him like this, he realized, and the thought of it was dizzying.
“God, D,” Jon breathed. “I know you probably don’t wanna hear it from me, but. You’re really pretty, you know that?” That was… That was fine to say, right? Even if the circumstances were weird as hell, Damian deserved to hear stuff like that during his first time. Jon wanted this to be a—if not a good, then a decent memory for him.
Damian collapsed back onto the bed with a huff. “What part of ‘hurry up’ is confusing you?” he snapped. While the words were haughty, his voice was strained and breathless, fingers twitching restlessly at his side.
“Sorry,” Jon said with genuine apology. “I’ll hurry up. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t want?”
“You not stopping is the opposite of the problem I’m hav—ngh.”
Damian’s long fingers flexed hard against the sheets as Jon bent down to press a wet kiss to the head of his cock. He tasted unsurprisingly like cum, musk and bitter on Jon’s tongue. Carefully, gently, Jon set about the delicate task of licking him clean, lapping and mouthing at the head of his cock and running his tongue down the shaft.
Damian was pretty guarded, mostly preferring not to let any softer emotions – namely, any emotions that weren’t smugness or irritation – show. Jon wasn’t sure if it was the whole being-drugged thing or whether this was what Damian was just like during sex, but as Jon kept going that guardedness fell away. What at first were short, masculine grunts and restrained twitches of stomach muscles became long, rough groans and luxurious rolls of his hips. When Jon traced his tongue along the slit, those hands that had so politely clenched in the bed sheets fisted themselves in Jon’s hair, trying fruitlessly to press him closer. By the time Jon was done cleaning him, tasting only salt and skin, Damian was a panting, squirming mess beneath him.
Jon kind of hoped this was more a Damian thing than a drug thing. Because the idea that Damian was getting like this because of Jon, because of what he was doing, was…just wow, really hot.
When Jon ignored the insistent tug of those hands and briefly pulled back, Damian let out a high, unhappy noise, dangerously close to a whine. Jon shot him an apologetic smile and quickly settled in properly between Damian’s legs, hands reaching up to hold his twitching hips firmly down on the mattress. He wasted no time in wrapping his lips around Damian’s straining cock and sinking down with probably too much eagerness to entirely play off as efficiency.
“Nn, fuck,” Damian moaned, loud and breathless and obscene. Gorgeous. He wrapped his legs around Jon’s torso, heels pressing into Jon’s lower back. Jon could tell he was close already from the way his balls were drawing up tight between his legs. Sure enough, only a minute or so later Damian was coming with an agonized groan, flooding Jon’s mouth. Jon swallowed it down as best he could, staying in place until the tension fled Damian’s body and he collapsed limply back onto the mattress.
He pulled off Damian’s cock with a wet pop and sat back on his heels. His own cock was an insistent pressure inside his jeans. “How was that?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Damian was splayed out bonelessly, breathing hard with a forearm thrown across his eyes. After a long pause, he muttered, “Do you have to ask.”
“Not really, I guess. But I think the rule is, if I just had your dick in my mouth, I’m allowed to fish for compliments,” Jon pointed out reasonably.
Damian’s breathing was already evening out, although it was still harsh. But he didn’t respond, not even to call Jon an idiot.
Jon frowned. “Damian?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally.
Jon froze. Oh god, had that been too much? Damn it, this is why he’d wanted to talk about these things ahead of time! “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean,” Damian ground out, “you could just fuck me a few times and be done with it.”
“Oh my god,” said Jon, heroically ignoring the flood of heat that went through him hearing those words from Damian’s lips – especially when Damian looked like that, cock still hard and shiny with Jon’s spit, thoroughly debauched. He only mostly succeeded. “I— No, I couldn’t ‘just’ do anything! And no-one needs to, uh, fuck anyone. You don’t have to— I mean, that’s not the only way we could…”
“Penetration is the most efficient treatment,” Damian said, and wow maybe Jon should have done more than just skim Oracle’s notes because seriously?
“Okay,” Jon said, “but you said that this lasts for hours, right? Doesn’t it make more sense to like…work up to that, maybe?” Not to mention it was still Damian’s first time doing any of this. And this was already a lot for a first time.
“Still,” Damian grumbled, “you don’t have to force yourself.”
With a start, Jon realized what was going on here. He’d been focused on not making this about himself, trying not to make Damian feel uncomfortable or like Jon was taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. But did he really think…?
Deciding to take a risk, he picked up Damian’s free hand and gently pressed it to his crotch. “Dames, I’m, uh. Really not forcing myself. Okay?” he mumbled, embarrassed.
The embarrassment was worth it for the way Damian sucked in a breath, small but sharp. He finally lowered the arm flung across his face and looked Jon in the eye. Jon suppressed the urge to fidget and prayed he wasn’t making a really dumb face. “Oh,” Damian said and swallowed thickly. His eyes were growing hazy again, fixed on where his hand was on Jon, but there was something familiarly calculating in his expression. “That’s encouraging.”
“Encouraging,” Jon said dryly, because that was a very bland word to hear from someone whose hand was on his dick. He probably had something else to say after that, but then that hand started rubbing and squeezing and stroking and every coherent thought flew from his head. “Shi— a-ah, you…you don’t need to—”
“Yes I do,” Damian said impatiently. Jon wasn’t about to complain when Damian’s calloused fingers were sliding along the skin of his waist under his shirt. Damian made an irritated noise. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Well, he’d have to take them off before they got messy anyway, if he wanted to be able to fly home in them, Jon reasoned. By the time he’d helped Damian slide his shirt off, Damian was plucking at the button of his fly, then tugging the zipper down with more impatience than finesse.
Jon yelped manfully. “Careful with that, man, that’s a delicate area!”
Damian clicked his tongue. “You’re invulnerable.”
“Still!” Jon insisted, because he hadn’t always been and some things were just ingrained, okay? But Damian had already moved on to tugging his pants down and was palming at him again, so it was kind of hard to stay mad. “W-wait, Dames, let me just—”
He struggled the rest of the way out of his pants and underwear, kicking them off onto the floor. As soon as they were off, Damian was pushing at his shoulder. Jon went with the motion, flopping onto his back – and then he had a lapful of Damian again, but this time it was more, his overheated skin sliding against Jon’s own. He ducked down to nip and suckle at Jon’s neck even as his hands trailed eagerly across Jon’s body.
Jon gasped, hands coming up automatically to press into Damian’s back. “G-god, you…Wait a minu—mmfuck.” One of Damian’s roaming hands had found his cock again and all at once there was a tight pressure sliding over his length; Damian’s own cock was pressed into the crease of Jon’s hip, shifting against his skin in short desperate jerks, and his teeth were scraping against Jon’s pulse, and it was getting harder and harder to remember what Jon was actually supposed to be doing here. “I-if you keep that up, I’ll…”
With truly heroic self-control, he reached down to pull Damian’s hands gently away from him. Damian made a noise of protest – somewhere between a growl and whine, tugging ineffectually at Jon’s grip.
Jon frowned. That was a pretty pathetic attempt to free himself. He hadn’t even tried to headbutt Jon or jab him in the eyes or anything. Concerning.
“Damian?” he asked softly. “You good?”
With his free hand he pressed at Damian’s shoulder, easing him back so he could see his face. And god, if Damian had looked gone before, now he was really gone: mouth slack, eyes lidded and unfocused, barely a sliver of green around blown pupils. “Jon,” he managed between gasps. He was rutting mindlessly against Jon’s skin like he didn’t know what to do with himself, forehead creased with mingled arousal and frustration. “F-fuck. Leggo, hurts. S’not enough, need to—”
Jon’s heart stuttered. “Oh, Dames,” he breathed. It made Jon feel horribly conflicted, seeing him act like this. His eagerness filled Jon with a guilty arousal, because damn if it wasn’t insanely hot to see him like this, but…but it didn’t feel like Damian, somehow, who was normally so poised and self-possessed. Besides, even putting that aside, it felt kind of messed up to have sex with someone who seemed barely lucid.
But…there wasn’t really another option. Was there?
God. So he was just gonna have to do this. He’d hoped to take a slightly more sophisticated approach this time around, but clearly that was no longer an option.
He released Damian’s wrist and reached down to his cock. As soon as he wrapped his hand around him, Damian sagged like a marionette with his strings cut as the agonized desperation on his face melted into pleasure. Jon jerked him off as efficiently as he could, trying to ignore the teasing friction of his cock rubbing against the crease of Damian’s ass and thigh as Damian thrust into his grip. He came with a shout and a violent shudder only a minute later, spurting hot and wet over Jon’s stomach.
Jon rubbed his back in small, soothing circles. “Better?” Damian just grunted, but he wasn’t shaking anymore and he already seemed more lucid. Hopefully that was a yes grunt. It sounded like one, anyway. “I feel like it’s getting worse. Do you think you’re getting worse?”
Another noncommittal grunt, which wasn’t really an answer. “D? Can you hear—”
“Jesus Christ,” Damian groaned. He pulled back just enough to glare blearily at him. “Yes I can hear you. Give me a moment.” More quietly, he grumbled, “Your pillow talk needs work.”
Jon grinned sheepishly. “Oh, right. Sorry. I just feel like I don’t have a lot of time to check in. Like what happened just now, you start getting all weird if you go too long with an orgasm.”
Something flashed across Damian’s face. “Weird,” he repeated, strained. Mortified, Jon realized.
Jon blanched and immediately backpedaled. “Wait, Dames, not weird like—not bad weird—well I guess kind of bad since you’re not feeling great, and that sucks. But you’re not doing anything bad, I promise. It’s just you get all desperate and needy—”
Damian made an odd choking noise.
“—which isn’t a bad thing, right, except for how it’s because of the drug. But if it weren’t such a weird situation it would actually be, you know, pretty hot, so—”
“Jon,” Damian ground out, fixing Jon with a heated glare. There was no part of his head that wasn’t flushed a vibrant red. “Stop talking.”
Belatedly, Jon realized what he’d just said. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird with…uh. You know. Saying I think you’re hot or whatever.”
“Things are already weird,” Damian said, flat but for the odd note in his voice.
Jon had to agree. “Look, anyway, that’s not the point. If the drug’s effects are getting worse, I thought maybe we could try something more intense, if you’re comfortable with it. Do you have lube?”
“I…” Damian blinked heavily, like he had to focus on the words. “Yes. It’s in the drawer. Are you planning on—”
“I thought I could ride you,” Jon said. “If you’re okay with it.”
Jon didn’t miss the way Damian’s still-hard cock twitched against his stomach. But that was less important than what Damian’s face was doing. Namely, staring at Jon with an expression that was heated but otherwise inscrutable – even to Jon, who usually considered himself pretty fluent in Damian.
“You want to what,” he said hoarsely.
Jon felt himself flush, suddenly self-conscious. “I mean. We don’t have to do it like that, if you’re not interested. I just thought it might be the easier option, since you said penetration is the most effective treatment and, you know.” He gestured behind himself in the vague direction of his ass. “Indestructible. And you can just lie there, or alternatively just go ham if you like without hurting me. So…yeah. Easier.”
He bit his lip. It wasn’t exactly the most seductive delivery – he knew that, okay? – but it was a weird situation, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he had until Damian lost lucidity again.
He expected Damian to snort out a laugh or roll his eyes, like he usually did when Jon got flustered. But instead, his gaze stayed heavy and dark. He swallowed thickly. “Okay.”
Jon perked up. “Oh! Cool. Then I’ll just…” He reached over to grab the lube from the drawer. There were a couple awkward moments of rummaging before he found it. Then he hesitated. “Um, do you want to use a condom? I can’t transmit disease or anything, but would you be more comfortable with one on?”
“Whatever you prefer,” Damian replied. So Jon slid the drawer closed and swung one leg over Damian’s hips to straddle his waist. He opened the bottle of lube and squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers, reached between his legs and slid one slick finger into himself. When that no longer felt like a stretch, he pulled out and slid two in together.
His eyelids fluttered shut on a sigh. It had been a while since he’d done this, but he was beyond worked up; even the discomfort was kind of doing it for him. He pushed it down, tried to keep his movements brisk and efficient, focused on stretching himself open as quickly as possible. Tried not to think about Damian’s eyes searing into him, which was a lot harder when Damian started stroking his hands over Jon’s thighs, callused fingers brushing over his skin. But by the time Jon could slip a third finger in, Damian had gotten really bad again: breathing hard, great greedy gulps like he couldn’t get enough air, his hips jerking up towards him. “Jo—ngh…”
He was hurting again, losing control. “Shoot, hold on,” Jon said apologetically. “It won’t take long. I just need to make sure I’m loose enough that I won’t hurt you.”
Damian’s shaking hands were digging into Jon’s thighs, trying fruitlessly to pull him closer. “Jon,” he said again, his tone almost pleading. Jesus, Damian didn’t plead.
“Alright, D. Alright,” Jon said, deciding he felt stretched enough. He had to be. He shuffled back, and gripped Damian’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, cool?”
He might have grimaced at his own unsexy choice of language if Damian had reacted to that beyond a blank, hungry stare and a stream of wordless, desperate noises. His hips strained upwards, disconcertingly mindless.
Damn it, he was just fully gone now, wasn’t he? Jon tried to be as efficient as possible, keeping Damian firmly in place with a hand on his stomach as he lined up and slowly, carefully sank down— Oh god, the stretch was more intense than he’d anticipated, he must have felt so tight—
Before Jon had sunk down even halfway, Damian’s eyes rolled back and he let out a strained shout, and suddenly Jon was flooded with heat where they were joined. He gasped at the unexpected sensation of being filled and filled all at once – and in his surprise, his hand slipped on Damian’s sweat-slick skin and those strong, slim hips jerked up into him in quick, rough thrusts, right to the hilt. “Oh my god,” Jon groaned, breathless and strained, scrabbling for the purchase on the sheets as Damian’s cock twitched inside him, trying to hold still so Damian could use him as he worked through his orgasm. Eventually, Damian collapsed back onto the mattress with a final whimper, exhausted.
Jon held himself very still and tried to remember how to breathe. Just the feeling of having Damian inside him was already so intense. His neglected cock was drooling precum on Damian’s stomach and god, he wanted nothing more than to touch himself, finally, finally, jerk off with that heat filling him—
“Any jokes about stamina and I kill you.”
Jon blinked his eyes open heavily, trying to refocus. Right. Damian wouldn’t be lucid for long; already his words were a little slurred with exhaustion. And that was more important that Jon’s…
Yeah.
Carefully, he settled his weight across Damian’s hips and tried for a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t gonna make any jokes, I promise. If anything, I’m impressed. How many times is that now?”
“Five,” Damian said tiredly. He was staring blankly up at the ceiling. “Once before you got here.”
Wow. Five times in…what, a little over an hour maybe? That was intense. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “I mean, not great in general I guess, but—better, than before? Still getting worse? Is what we’re doing now helping? How much longer do you think it’ll be before the effects start wearing off?”
Damian’s eyes flickered down to give him a flat stare, before shifting down to their joined hips, to his cock still sheathed inside Jon. He shivered and closed his eyes with a grimace. “It’s…absurd that you want to have this conversation…in this position.”
Right. Pillow talk. Jon smiled, abashed. “Sorry, D.”
“You seem practically unaffected.”
Jon was still pretty visibly hard, but yeah, compared to Damian… “I’m not on any crazy sex drugs, which helps.”
“Even so. I wish you would—”
He broke off unhappily, looking away. Jon frowned. “What?”
His jaw was tight. “You’re doing everything,” Damian gritted out, with clear reluctance. I can’t even reciprocate without losing control.”
“You don’t need to! This is about you, D.”
“I don’t want it to just be about me,” he said. There was something accusatory in his voice. “You implied before you were getting something out of this.”
Jon’s throat tightened. “Um, well. Yeah.”
“You think I'm attractive. You said so. Twice.”
It was more a challenge than a question. Damian hadn't really acknowledged it when Jon had called him pretty or hot, but apparently it had made an impression after all. “Well, duh, that's because you are.”
“And your erection isn’t just a physiological response.”
“Um. No?”
“Well then,” Damian said uncomfortably, and then unhelpfully didn’t elaborate.
Jon still felt like he had an idea though. No matter how self-assured Damian came across, anyone would feel insecure about having to go through with something like this, especially since it was his first time. Everyone wanted to feel wanted, and like they were doing a good job. And even if Jon didn’t mind it at all, coming as soon as he entered Jon probably hadn’t helped with that.
Maybe Jon didn’t have to keep as tight a lid on himself as he’d planned. He wanted Damian to come out the other side of this feeling—if not good about it, then at least not insecure and uncomfortable. He’d just have to deal with the awkwardness afterwards when it came.
So:
“You’re totally wrong, you know,” Jon said slowly. “I’m not unaffected at all.”
Damian’s eyes snapped back to his. “Really,” he drawled, wary – but was that an edge of hope to his voice?
Jon nodded. “Mm-hm. You feel really good inside me. I’ve been trying to keep cool because I’m worried about you, but…when you came inside me just now, I nearly lost it.”
The mood was a little more awkward than he’d like, the words coming out more conversational than seductive. Maybe that was inevitable, since he’d never tried to seduce Damian before – and still wasn’t entirely convinced he even could.
But if Damian was unimpressed with his attempt, he didn’t show it. His eyes flickered over Jon’s body, down his chest to his still-hard cock, and lingered there. “Ah,” he said, voice hoarse. “You like that, then.”
“Yeah, it feels good. I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone, but for me it’s really hot, almost burning. And intense. Since I didn’t do a lot of preparation it feels like a stretch, and I’m honestly, um, really into that.” He swallowed. Saying this all out loud, and seeing the way Damian was looking at him, was really getting to him. “Honestly, you could just lie there and look pretty and I’d probably still be into it, so you don’t need to worry about—ngh! Wait—!”
Damian was rolling his hips now, breathing hard, all that amazing, hot pressure moving inside him. Definitely not unimpressed after all, then. “Jon, I…” His hands crept up to Jon’s hips, gripping tight, pulling him closer to grind up into him. “You feel really good too,” he breathed.
Jon’s vision flickered when Damian’s cock scraped just right inside him. “Haah, w-wait. It’s better if I…”
He gently pressed his fingertips onto the hard muscle of Damian’s stomach, bracing himself as he raised his hips and began to roll his hips into it. Damian’s cum inside him made everything soft and slick, the noise of it almost obscenely wet. Damian let out a strangled cry, hands tightening on Jon’s hips. He gazed up at Jon from beneath his long, dark eyelashes, flushed all the way down to his chest, expression twisted up with ecstasy.
He was so beautiful Jon felt dizzy with it. The pause had allowed him to get used to the intrusion; the slow drag of the movement was less intense but still incredible, and it was making it hard to think about anything except Damian and how good this felt and how much Jon wanted it, how long he’d wanted it even when he shouldn’t—
“You should touch yourself,” Damian told him.
Jon made an embarrassing noise at that, half shock and half-arousal. “T-this is for you, I don’t need to—”
“Please,” he gasped. “Want to see you.”
“God,” Jon rasped. Damian barely ever said please. He must be slipping under again, too mindless to really know what he was asking for but…
But Jon was bad at saying no to him at the best times. How could he deny Damian anything when he asked like that?
“Okay, i-if you’re sure," he whispered. He wrapped a hand around himself and began to jerk off in time with the movements of his hips. He’d been so turned on for so long without really touching himself that the sensation was as much relief as it was pleasure. He groaned, head tipping back. “S’this okay?”
“Yes,” Damian breathed in answer. “I need…”
He shifted beneath Jon, feet braced on the mattress, rocking up to meet the roll of Jon’s hips, the angle shifting slightly—
Jon heard himself moan, a startled, punched out thing, lightning rocketing through him as Damian’s cock perfectly hit that spot inside him. He’d have thought it was a fluke if the same thing hadn’t happened on the next thrust, and the next, until Jon was seeing stars with every thrust and Jesus Christ was there nothing Damian wasn’t weirdly good at first try?
“Dames,” he groaned. “Oh god, that’s so— How did you— Keep going, please.”
“Fuck,” Damian moaned, breathless and splintered. Damian was so hard inside him, meeting each roll of his hips so eagerly, letting out breathy little grunts and groans with every thrust. Jon wanted to hear him make those sounds forever, make him feel so good he lost his composure, just like this, so hot and so good. If Jon didn’t cum soon he was pretty sure he was going to go insane.
“Sorry,” he moaned as he sped up the movements of his hand, frantic, “sorry, can’t hold it, feels too good—”
It didn’t take long before he was finally, finally there, pleasure and release blazing through him, crying out as he came in hot spurts all over Damian’s stomach and chest. It seemed to last forever, going through him in shuddering waves until he was spent. But before he could get his bearings again, Damian shifted underneath him and Jon found himself on his back, Damian hovering over him. He blinked up at him dazedly. “Wha…?”
Damian’s eyes were glazed over and desperate again. “Fuck, Jon, I need to— I’m so close—”
He yelped as Damian slid his cock back inside him in a single thrust. Damian didn’t give him time to adjust, fucking him hard and deep. Jon was a little oversensitive after coming but it still felt good, a different kind of pleasure but pleasure all the same. And then Damian was leaning down to kiss him again, filthy and sloppy in a way that should be kinda gross if it wasn’t just really, really hot, all tongue and teeth and gasping breaths into each other’s mouths.
The orgasm had cleared his head enough to remind him what he was here for. He wrapped his legs around Damian’s waist, encouraging. Pulled back from the kiss to whisper into his ear, “It’s okay, D. Just let go.”
Apparently that was enough. Damian let out a strangled noise, half whine half shout, and his hips stuttered, coming inside Jon for the second time. Jon rubbed his back soothingly as the blissed-out tension leaked out of him. They lay there like that for a long minute.
“So,” Jon said when Damian’s breathing hard slowed to something approaching normal, in his best attempt at a conversational tone, “that’s six, huh?”
Damian mumbled something, too garbled for even him to pick out. “What was that?” Jon asked.
Damian lifted his head, although he still didn’t meet Jon’s eyes. “I said, I’m…sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I just…”
“Shh, no, you don’t need to apologize.” He smiled and poked Damian in the forehead, right at the crease between his eyebrows. “You can’t hurt me, remember?”
“I know,” Damian said. He shifted slightly. Shivered at the friction against his no doubt oversensitive cock. “Jon, I can’t— I still need to—”
He was already starting to rock his hips again, aborted, shallow thrusts like he was trying to keep still but couldn’t. The post-orgasmic reprieve from the drug’s effect was getting shorter. Or maybe Damian was just getting too tired to resist.
Jon smiled and let his knees fall apart wider in encouragement. “It’s okay, D,” Jon told him softly. “It’s all okay. Just get it out of your system.”
Damian’s mouth twisted into a frown. For a second, it looked like he was going to argue, and Jon opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. But then Damian let out a groan and his expression collapsed in distracted lust again as his thrusts picked up speed, and all of Jon’s words flew out of his head.
Things got kind of hazy after that.
More than anything they’d done together so far, this was most like what he’d always dreamed about: Damian so beautiful and so close, heated skin against heated skin, so painfully intimate that Jon could hardly breathe with it. He’d never thought he’d actually get to be with him like this. He never wanted it to end. Feverishly, he thought he could probably stay like this forever if Damian would let him.
God. He was probably a horrible person for enjoying Damian’s suffering so much, wasn’t he? But when Damian wrapped a hand around him, jerking him off with rough strokes, even that lingering guilt dissolved into a pleasured haze. Now that he’d decided to let himself enjoy this, he couldn’t make himself stop touching Damian everywhere, running his hands over all the skin he could reach, greedily savoring the way Damian leaned into his touch; trying to catalog the moment so he’d never forget it, even knowing that none of it was really real. It was all too easy to let himself sink into the sensation, thoughtlessly taking whatever Damian gave him: the cock relentlessly spearing him open, those eager, desperate kisses. He thought he came again at some point, but everything felt so good that it all blurred together as Damian just. Kept. Going.
Damian came inside him three more times, shuddering and moaning beautifully above him. The third time, he collapsed onto Jon in a boneless heap. Jon let himself clutch him tight, running his fingers through Damian’s sweaty hair and sucking wet kisses into his neck.
“Better?” Jon whispered once the silence had settled. Damian didn’t reply. Worried, Jon poked him gently in the shoulder. “D? You with me?”
“Don’t poke me,” came the grumpy reply, muffled against Jon’s chest.
“Oh, good! I thought maybe you’d passed out or something.”
“Evidently not.”
“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?” Damian let out a soft, mildly irritated grunt. Jon suppressed a fond smile. “Anyway, how’s the, you know, sex drugs situation?”
Damian sighed, a warm gust of air against Jon’s skin. “Improving. Finally.”
“Right,” Jon said. “So, uh, do you wanna keep going? I’m okay if you wanna keep going.” More than okay, even. He’d been really close to coming again.
Another pause. Damian shifted and—and winced, in what looked alarmingly like pain.
Alarm bells started ringing.
“Damian?” he asked, anxious. “What hurts?”
“I’m fine,” he said irritably.
Jon didn’t believe him for a second. “Pull out, I need to look you over.”
Damian grumbled something probably uncomplimentary in Arabic and forced himself up on shaking arms with what looked like Herculean effort. They both gasped as he carefully slid out. Damian’s eyes flickered down Jon’s body and he—froze.
“Oh,” Damian said roughly, eyes fixed between his legs. “You’re…leaking.”
Jon was. He could feel it. “Yeah, well, you came in me a whole bunch. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” He tugged Damian down beside him on the bed, sat up to inspect him—and sucked in a dismayed gasp. “Oh no, D. That looks…”
God. No wonder he’d winced. Behind the mess of cum and lube, Damian’s cock looked red and irritated, drooping miserably between his quivering thighs. At least he wasn’t fully hard anymore, which probably meant the drug was wearing off. But still…
Jon bit his lip. “I’m sorry. Was I too tight?”
Damian’s dick gave a half-hearted twitch. He looked too exhausted to even scowl. “No,” he said, hoarse. “You were…perfect. It was perfect.”
“Oh,” Jon said. Of all things, that was what made him blush, not the distracting feeling of Damian’s cum dripping down his inner thigh. “Well not exactly perfect, since you’re hurting now. I should have figured that much friction wouldn’t be good for you and gone slower. But…at least you seem less, you know, drugged up now. Are you done, do you think?”
His gaze flickered down to where his cum was pretty noticeably leaking out of Jon, then returned to stare resignedly at the ceiling. “No,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not. But I’m not sure I…” He raised a hand to gesture at himself.
Jon blinked. “Not sure what?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he grumbled.
“Um. Yeah? Please.”
Damian fixed him with a bleary-eyed glare. “Isn’t it obvious?” he hissed. “This stupid drug has been in my system for hours, and I’ve had eight—ugh, nine orgasms, and I’m tired and sore and tender, and—” At this, his glare slid off of Jon again, fixed somewhere over his left shoulder. “And. I’m not sure I can move anymore. So I need you to…”
He trailed off, scowling. Jon wasn’t surprised. Damian hated admitting weakness, even when it was totally reasonable to need help. None of this had been easy for him, but this had to be especially rough.
“Okay, sure thing,” Jon said. He glanced down at Damian’s poor, abused penis and winced in sympathy. “But I don’t think I can— I mean, I don’t want to hurt you worse. Um. I have an idea, and you can totally say no if you want, but. Maybe I could, you know. Finger you—”
“Yes,” Damian said immediately, then snapped his mouth shut. Embarrassed.
“Oh,” Jon said. That was a quick response. He hadn’t actually thought that Damian would want him to…
Wow.
“Okay, then let me just…” He picked up the lube again and coated his fingers liberally. “It’s gonna feel a little weird at first, but just make sure you relax okay?”
“You don’t need to coddle me,” Damian said brusquely, “I’m familiar,” which okay wow so Damian had already—
Unhelpfully, Jon was becoming more and more aware that he was still hard.
Jon lightly warmed up the lube with his heat vision. “I’ll start with one finger. Promise you’ll let me know if it hurts?”
“Get on with it,” Damian snapped, not as harshly as he probably intended – his tone was a touch closer to plea than demand. He watched Jon through still-hazy, half-lidded eyes, clearly impatient. But when Jon slid that first finger inside him, those eyes fluttered closed.
“Jon,” he breathed, hips twitching beautifully, and god, Jon couldn’t breathe.
“Is this alright?” he whispered. He hadn’t meant to whisper, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate, trapped somewhere within the knot of anticipation in his chest. Damian gave a curt nod in response so he kept going, making sure Damian was slick inside before he added a second finger. When he glanced up at Damian’s face, he saw he was breathing hard, an arm flung over his face.
“That okay?” he asked.
“Stop asking me that,” Damian grumbled.
“Sorry, no can do. Like I said, I don’t wanna hurt you.” Jon slowly scissored his fingers, stretching him open. There was still shockingly little resistance, especially considering this was Damian’s first time, which would make anyone a little nervous; and more importantly, it was Damian, who was barely ever relaxed about anything. Maybe Damian’s exhaustion meant he didn’t have the strength to tense up anymore.
Oh man. Jon shouldn’t find that hot. Right? It was probably really gross to think that was hot.
“Okay, I’m gonna try something,” Jon announced, rather than focus on how inappropriately hot this whole thing felt. He curled his fingers upwards, stroking along Damian’s inner walls. “Let me know when I—”
As it turned out, Jon didn’t need to ask. Because as soon as Jon curved his fingers up towards that spot inside him, Damian’s whole body jerked, mouth falling open on a startled groan. “Nngh, Jon—”
“Right there, huh?” Jon stroked that spot again lightly and Damian’s breath caught sharply. He wasn’t fully hard, like his cock didn’t have the strength to stay erect anymore; but it was oozing a small puddle of precum onto Damian’s abs, so it definitely seemed like he was enjoying himself. “Should I keep going? I can add another finger.”
“Yes,” Damian told him, half a whine and half a growl. So Jon did, slipped a third finger in alongside the other two. Once that felt comfortable, he rubbed that spot again and Damian’s cock twitched hard against his stomach. His stomach and hips tensed, like he wanted to arch into the sensation but couldn’t. Too limp and exhausted from his ordeal but still so strong, so willing, so perfect for him—
“God, Dames,” Jon said, low and embarrassingly reverent. “You’re so beautiful. You know that?”
Damian made another desperate noise, thighs limply falling apart. He was still covering his face. Jon wished he could see his eyes, even though he knew they might not reveal what he wanted: Damian looking at him with genuine desire, wanting him. Not just because of some drug, not because he was out of his mind and Jon was conveniently placed to help him.
“Jon,” Damian said breathlessly. “You don’t have to just—you can. Fuck me.”
God. God.
“R-really? You really want…”
“Yes. Now.”
“You’re so bossy,” Jon said. It should have come out fondly exasperated like usual, but even to his own ears he just sounded kind of breathless and horny. So sue him, he already had three fingers inside Damian, who was loose and wet and gorgeous, and the thought that he’d get to be inside him was all he could think about.
He slipped his fingers out and lined up his cock. “Like this?”
Damian shifted his arms to glare up at him. “Really, Jon, what part of now do you not understa—ahhh…”
The scowl melted away as Jon slowly slid inside, twisted into something surprised and—god, and relieved. Jon knew it was only the drug making Damian feel like he needed this, but it still made Jon’s stomach lurch with heat. He watched Damian carefully for any signs of discomfort as he pushed in deeper, felt that tight, wet heat envelop him. Wow, wow, it felt—just, really, really good. He could feel his muscles shaking with the effort to keep it slow and so, so careful, to not just sink in in one go.
“Is this okay?” Jon asked when he was finally fully seated inside him.
Damian was panting through gritted teeth. “I thought I told you to stop asking.”
“And I told you I won’t! Like I keep saying, I don’t want to hurt you. I want—” Jon bit his lip, to keep from saying too much, from being too much – but it was a lost cause. The words were spilling out anyway. “I know this isn’t about what I want but. I really, really want you to enjoy this. I mean, you were a virgin before tonight and maybe you don’t care about that but I do, and if something I did made this a horrible memory for you then that’d really suck. So I don’t care if you think it’s lame that I’m asking you for reassurance or whatever, because I’d rather be lame than hurt you.” He looked Damian in the eyes, willing him to understand. “I wanna make you feel good, Damian. Okay?”
Damian’s eyes widened briefly, just a fraction, when Jon finished his spiel. Then he swallowed, eyes flickering away.
“I understand,” he said, hoarse. “I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt. So just move. I want you to move.”
“Okay,” Jon whispered. He pulled out slowly until only the head was inside, then sank back into that beautiful, tight heat. Damian gasped like it felt really good, so he did it again, and again, and again until—until he was actually fucking him in long, deep strokes.
“Oh my god,” Jon moaned, “you feel incredible. Tell me what you need. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Damian squirmed beneath him, flushed red and panting. “A-ah, haah, just—just keep doing that. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Jon didn’t stop. “This is good? You l-like it?”
“Yes. Yes, Jon, it’s so good,” he gasped. “You’re doing everything I want. It’s even better than I imagined, fuck—”
He broke off on a fractured moan. Jon’s heartbeat stuttered. Did he just say…?
“You’ve…thought about this?” Jon asked, breathless. Hopeful.
“I—shit.” Damian eyes were wild, desperate – but there was none of the haze that was there before, the mindlessness. “Yes, I have. You’re the only one. The only one I want to do this with.”
The words were a fire burning bright in Jon’s chest, an incandescent joy. Damian was clear-headed and—and surely he wouldn’t lie, not about something like this. So maybe that meant that…he really—
“Oh my god,” Jon breathed. “You really want me.” Damian bit his lip, broke Jon’s gaze. “No, no, Damian, don’t look away, please. Me too, it’s the same for me, I—oh god—”
He cupped Damian’s jaw as he continued to move inside him, coaxed him into a kiss because after that he just couldn’t not be kissing him anymore. Damian moaned, half a sob, and wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, urging him closer. Jon wanted to press against him, hot skin to hot skin, but he didn’t want to chafe against his sore dick; and maybe it should have made everything feel awkward, but it was just—
It was perfect. Damian was perfect. Damian wanted this, wanted him, and it felt amazing and nothing else mattered.
The kiss got messier and messier as Jon kept sliding into him, until eventually Damian was just panting against his mouth, groaning on every thrust. “Do you think you can cum like this, without me touching you?” Jon asked—
And just like that Damian was shuddering beneath him, voice breaking on a strangled cry. His abused cock jerked against his stomach, but nothing came out except a small trickle of almost clear fluid. “Jon,” he gasped, blunt nails digging into Jon’s skin as it went through him in waves.
“Oh my god,” Jon whined and pulled out, as carefully as he could when he felt like it felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He didn’t want to hurt Damian any more than necessary. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me, D. I can’t believe you— sorry, I’ve gotta—I can’t—”
He only needed to stroke himself a few times before he was coming all over Damian’s heaving stomach. When he finally sagged, spent, Damian tugged him down into a ferocious kiss. “W-wait,” he mumbled, “mmph, let me—”
He collapsed onto the bed beside him and happily let Damian devour him as the last of the aftershocks went through him. And then they were making out lazily, hazy and satisfied, lying side by side on the bed.
After a while, Damian finally pulled back for air. He swallowed audibly. “Jon, he rasped. “That was…”
“Amazing,” Jon breathed. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” He pressed one last kiss to Damian’s lips and smiled hopefully. “So, uh…when you said you’d thought about having sex with me before…that was true?” God, he hoped it was. Jon didn’t know what he’d do with himself if that turned out to just be something he’d said in the heat of the moment.
Damian hesitated briefly then nodded. If it were anyone else, Jon would say he looked nervous. “Yes. For a while now, my feelings for you have been…not entirely platonic.”
Jon grinned, giddy. Thank god. “You mean you like me. You know you can just say that, right?”
Damian wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather not. It sounds so juvenile.”
“Well,” Jon teased, “in some ways, technically you are—”
“Don’t,” Damian snapped with surprising vehemence. “In a few months I’ll be 19 and you’ll still be 21. Two fucking years difference! I’m already an adult, not a damn child—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Jon said quickly, flinching. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing you. I didn’t know it bothered you that much. I’ll—I’ll stop joking about it, okay?”
Damian deflated with a sigh, still scowling. “It doesn’t, not really. Except when it comes to…” He waved a hand to indicate the two of them, lying naked and tangled together in sex-mussed sheets.
Ah, thought Jon. “So that’s why you never said anything?”
“Obviously,” Damian said with an imperious sniff. “To you I’d just be some…some pathetic child with a crush. I didn’t know how else I could…” He broke off, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “I mean. I didn’t think you’d ever want to. Unless…”
“Unless you were out of your mind on sex drugs and your life maybe depended on it?” Jon sighed. “Oh, D, that’s just…so completely not true. First off, I’d never think you were pathetic. Never. And also, I, uh. Definitely didn’t mind having sex with you, for the record. Like, at all.”
“Yes, well,” he grumbled, “I know that now.”
Jon hummed. “But you didn’t think you could say anything. Is that why you put me first on your weird sex consent form thingy?”
“Not first,” Damian said, which—
Jon blinked, stomach sinking. “Oh. I. Okay. Um, who else was—”
“Not like that,” Damian cut him off with a growl. “I mean there was no-one else. I meant what I said before. You’re the only one I want to do this with.”
“Oh,” Jon said again, this time breathless with wonder. “I. I wasn’t sure you meant it.”
“You should know by now I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He looked up at Jon from under his eyelashes, almost shy. “And. What about you…?”
Jon beamed. “Isn’t it obvious?” Damian’s answering glare told him it wasn’t, and he laughed. “Okay, then let me be super clear. I’m totally crazy about you, D. And I definitely don’t think you’re a child, or pathetic, or anything like that. It doesn’t matter which of us is older or younger: to me you’ve always just been Damian, my best friend, my favorite person in the world.” He felt himself flush. “My, uh, super cool, super hot best friend, who I’ve definitely thought about having sex with before this all happened. So definitely don’t think you’re the only one who felt like that, okay? I like you too. A lot.”
“Okay,” Damian said, quiet and a little grumpy, which meant he really was feeling shy. Holy crap, Damian was never shy. But he was now, because Jon had told him he liked him.
He was adorable. Jon could never ever tell him that, or Damian would probably kill him.
Instead he took Damian’s hand and kissed him, slow and sweet, until all that tension melted out of him, and smiled. “I should’ve asked before, but how are you feeling now? The drug’s gone now, right?”
Damian blinked at him slowly, a little dazed. He cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes, I think it’s cleared my system. I feel fine, if tired. And sore.” He made a face, glanced down at his stomach. “And sticky.”
Jon grinned, sheepish. “Ah, yeah. Sorry about that. Although you did fill me up pretty good with cum too, so. Call it even?”
Damian’s jaw clenched. “You are…surprisingly vulgar, for someone with such an innocent face.”
“Uh,” Jon said. “Sorry?”
“It wasn’t a complaint,” Damian told him lowly. “Although if you keep talking like that…”
There was a look in his eyes that made Jon shiver, edged with liquid heat. But also: “No, nope, no more sex for you, mister.”
“‘Mister’,” Damian echoed flatly. “Jon, please. This isn’t the 1950s.”
Jon ignored him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna get up and run a bath in that stupid huge tub in the main bathroom, and then I’m gonna put bubbles in it, and you’re gonna soak in it until your fingers go all pruney. And while you’re doing that, I’m gonna order us both takeout, and you’re gonna consume all the calories you just burned and then some, and drink about seventeen gallons of water. And when you’re clean and well-fed and well-hydrated and—and we’ve put some ointment or something on your dick, probably—”
“Sexy,” Damian muttered.
“After all of that,” Jon continued pointedly, “you’re gonna get at least a solid eight hours of rest. And when you wake up, I’ll take you out on a proper date, like we should have done before all this.” Oh, wait. Was that too forceful? Jon quickly backpedalled. “Um, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it and, like, want to and stuff—”
“Jon,” Damian said, squeezing his hand. “Don’t you dare take a word of it back. That sounds perfect. Just one thing. Will you…stay here, with me tonight? Even if it’s not for sex, I think I would still like to…to be near you.”
Jon’s heart clenched. “Of course, D,” he said softly. “Anything for you. I’ve got your back, always.”
“I know,” said Damian. “Now run me my bath, Kent.”
“So bossy,” Jon said back, but he was smiling too hard to pretend he was actually upset; and Damian was smiling back, one of his rare smiles that wasn’t anything but happy, warm and open and beautiful.
If Jon had to spend another couple minutes kissing that smile before he went to run that bath? Well, neither of them seemed to mind much.