Archive of Our Own

It was the night after a drug-bust in Gotham when it happened. Bruised and bloody and chests heaving as the last of the drug traffickers filed into the police wagon. When Damian asked if Jon wanted to stay the night, of course, he said yes. They’d had thousands of sleepovers before they’d started dating, but tonight, Jon could already tell, was different. 

They’d had never explicitly talked about it per say, though it’d been implied.

And Jon was kidding himself if he said he thought about doing literally anything else. He was a red-blooded (half-) man. Well, close enough to being a man. A teenager, seventeen. Fine, close enough. 

He’d at least spent half his days dreaming about what it’d be like. In fact it’d gotten to a point where it really couldn’t be healthy. And the inopportunely timed boners were becoming increasingly awkward. He hated that his own body seemed to be betraying him like this.

He was giddy and stupid, and also a little terrified. Sex was just so confusing, and it didn’t seem like it was meant to be. Other things were simple. Kissing led to making out, led to grinding against one another, led to a wayward hand down boxers, led to an over enthusiastic mouth in its place. Where the dick in ass thing came in, Jon was none the wiser. It led to so many other issues. Did he need a condom? Did Damian need a condom? Did they need a condom at all? Jon couldn’t get sick, was he immune to STD’s too? And lube? That was a whole other bag of worms? What the frick even was lube? Like really? Where was he (or Damian) supposed to put it? And where does one even buy lube? The gay sex store? Do straight people even need lube? He’d probably need lube, right? What with his entire body being the texture and hardness of metal. Also… Ouch.

It wasn’t like his mom hadn’t given him the talk. But he’d been fourteen then, and he’d still just been coming into his powers, and straight (to everyone's best knowledge, including his own). And it’d been a human talk a that. Use a condom because you don’t want to get her pregnant. Ask for consent. Be respectful. Silence isn’t a yes. You’re a teenager and its only natural to have urges, just make sure you’re responsible about it.

He could ask his dad. But he knew that would only lead to further problems. He knew how his dad felt about Damian, and he really didn’t need that in his ear. And even if his dad bit the bullet and decided to give him the Kryptonian talk, Jon couldn’t even be too sure how much of it would apply to him. What him being with a guy and all…

And he couldn’t trust Conner not to run and tell Tim, who’d let it slip to the rest of the batfamily. All of whom Damian wasn’t out to yet. 

But he wanted to. He really gosh darn wanted to. He spent way too much of his time watching amateur gay porn and picturing Damian, to not want it.

They hadn’t talked about it, and maybe that had been his first misstep. 

Maybe the real misstep had been he hadn’t at all considered Damian into his equation. 

Maybe with Damian’s high and mighty demeanour, with his overall apathy to any sort of physical contact—  Maybe Jon just assumed that if he ever got up the courage to ask about it, Damian would just shoot him down— tell him sex wasn’t something he was interested in. And Jon would be okay with that, just one more thing he didn’t have to worry about.

It started the same way most of their make-out sessions started, sitting on Damian’s bed. They’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Damian with his curious, unreadable eyes had looked him up and down and said, with his usual monotone, “would you like to kiss me?”

It started off gentle, slow. The way they often kissed, hesitant and awkward with both their hands firmly planted on the edge of the bed. It was Damian who grabbed the base of Jon’s hair and pulled their mouths closer, opened to lick against his tongue. It was new and strange but it also wasn’t like they hadn’t ever kissed like that before. After the last attempted alien invasion in Star City, leaving the entire justice league bloody with a hard won victory— and Jon had grabbed Damian’s collar behind an ally as the building behind them exploded with a blast of Apopolipcs technology, and kissed him with all the heat and fever he could muster— and the utter fear he might die before ever getting to kiss Damian like that again. 

But there was no need for rush this time. There were no screams of fleeing civilians, not the rapid fire of military grade machine guns. It was just them in Damian’s bedroom, kissing under the open moonlight of the night above peeking out from behind Damian’s curtains. 

He let himself be kissed, it was easier that way. His head was swimming too quickly and he thought of all the things he should be asking Damian. Was this okay? Could can we go further? I love you, I want to do this. 

But in Damian’s usual way, he read everything on Jon’s face without ever even needing to ask, and slipped his free hand down the front of Jon’s boxers. Jon had to break the kiss, maybe in the pure utter awe that Damian— Damian was touching him there. 

His hands were rough and calloused and smaller than Jon’s own and Jon had never thought eveything as smiple as this could feel so good. 

“Careful,” Jon had to say into his neck, because oh god, this was happening so fast and he really didn’t want to mess this up this soon. 

“You like this?” Damian asked, without a hint of strain in his voice. Perfectly calm as ever, slowing his strokes on Jon to just a caress with his fingers. 

Jon bit his throat in reply, sucking hard and nibbling upward to his jaw where the stray strands of stubble had only recently just begun to form, rough against his lips. Absently he wondered if he should touch Damian too, would he want that? Jon wasn’t sure. If Damian had been anyone else, he would have on instinct, but Damian was Damian.

Once, years ago, thrown into the throngs of puberty and sexual confusion, Jon had asked if Damian thought it was weird that Jon also liked watching the guys in porn, and if Damian ever did that too— to which Damian had replied he didn’t watch porn. “So what? You just stare at your walls?” Jon had asked in confusion. But Damian, unbothered, had explained he never did that. “Never?” Jon had pressed. Damian had just shrugged moved on. 

“Damian,” Jon finally let out as Damian squeeze just a little harder at the base. Damian finally sat back, and for the first time, Jon got a good look at him. Those puffy pinken lips, slick with saliva, his blow pupils that eyed him oh so curiously behind a ring of green. He stared and for just a moment something strange flashed in his eyes.

“Damian?” Jon asked, reaching out to take Damian’s wrist, ignoring the awkward slickness of his palm from Jon’s pre-cum. 

Now would be the time to ask, now was the perfect time to say something. Sure his dick was hanging at attention out of his boxers, but he really really needed to ask what Damian was doing, what he wanted. 

But then Damian was sitting in his lap and there was just the single layer Damian’s nylon legging between them, and all responsible thoughts lefts Jon’s mind. The subtle rocking of Damian’s body was a wonderful thing, and Jon wasn’t even going to try thinking about anything else, his cock sliding rhythmically between the crease of Damian’s ass.

He was getting reckless, but he did’t care, kissing down Damian’s throat, his hands finding the buttons of his uniform to haphazardly pluck undone. His hands were on Damian’s warm chest, his tongue tracing the jarggered scar between his pectorials. He wondered if Damian was hard too, he wanted to know, he wanted to touch. There was a strange sort of thumping going on beneath his veins. It was animalistic and strange and utterly exciting. 

He flipped them easily, using his grip on Damian’s lower back to roll them over onto the bed, crowding Damian’s body against the pillows. Damian didn’t make a sound, though his eyes widened just so. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Jon finally admitted, letting his fingers catch on the hem of Damian’s leggings. 

“Good,” Damian replied cooly, with that familiar sense of pride seeping into his expression, “I have lubricant on my nightstand, first draw.”

He reached over and fumbled out the sealed and unopened bottle of lube and set it down awkwardly beside Damian in the sheets. 

He kissed Damian again, slower than before, focussing on sliding Damian’s leggings and underwear down his hips.

Damian made a surprised squeak as Jon reached between them to take Damian’s cock in his hand, warm and hard and thrumming in his grip.

They were rutting against each other, gasping into mouths and nipping at lips. 

He wanted it so badly, he didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more in his life. Damian was so fucking beautiful, so sheltered, so prudent and strict— and still he was going to let Jon have this. And there was that pride again, in knowing Jon would be the first person — the only person— to have this from Damian. That out of everyone in the world, Damian had chosen to share this moment with Jon. 

He could hear Damian’s heartbeat loud and echoing, the sound of his blood rushing through his body, he heard the bottle cap of the lubricant pop open as Damian reached over to grab it, smearing the clear liquid onto his delicate fingures. Jon had just a second to sit back on his heels and watch in utter awe at what Damian was going to do. Reaching down, lower, and lower still— and then inside. There was resistance, but then a figure was inside and then too— and Jon was pretty sure he was drooling. 

Finally, he dared to look up at Damian’s face and almost came right then. He was watching him intently with heavy lashes and a prideful smirk, his chin tilted up just so. For the first time in Damian’s life, he looked actually care-free. His own fingers working inside himself, no shame or pretence of poise. It was wonderful.

“Come here,” Damian muttered, reaching out for Jon, spreading his legs invitingly and Jon wasn’t in control of his own body anymore and he crawled over Damian. 

His hands shook as he tried to line himself up with Damian’s hole, it wasn’t just some fantasy in his mind any more. No more what-ifs or might happens— it was happening. But when the head of his cock slipped inside Damian, nothing mattered anymore— and that white hot fever was boiling his blood again, spuring him on as he slid all the way inside Damian. 

It was like nothing he could describe. Nothing he had ever felt. He shivered and shook and spazzemed as more of Damian’s warm body came in contact with his. His head fell forward burried in Damian’s shoulder. All Jon could do was feel. Damian was utterly perfect, tight and warm and so inviting Jon didn’t think he’d ever be able to pull out. And he wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, his super senses were too much, and this intense pleasure had ruptured the years of focus it had taken to keep his body and mind in check. Every inch of his kryptoinian powers were focusing on this one thing, this one feeling. 

He was moving faster, rocking all the way into Damian. A first rolling his hips, and then snapping them all the way so his balls slapped against Damian’s ass. His grip on Damian’s ribs tight, forcing them both into rhythm. Damian’s nails down his back, his hands clawing at any skin he could find to make purchase, to keep himself grounded onto Jon. 

He found himself grabbing Damian’s thigh, hoisting it up higher until it was hooked over Jon’s shoulder. 

Damians moan were magic in his ears. He could feel Damian’s body react to the change in position. Feel him twitch, feel him writhe. 

Jon was losing himself more and more into it all. Squeezing Damian’s body tight and thrusting harder and harder, and with each thrust, Damian just grew louder and louder. 

His orgasm hit him hard and fast and all too sudden, and he just had that split second of warning to press his face into the pillow and groan, hips giving one harsh final snap up into Damian before emptying inside him with tunnelled vision and curled toes.

Damian’s breaths below him were shallow and strange but Jon’s brain was still having difficulties working itself back together as he pressed the side of his sweaty face into Damian’s. 

“That was amazing,” He gasped, pressing a wet kiss to Damian’s cheek. 

“Um, Jonathan,” Damian voice was tight and clipped and Jon sat up at the strange tone, finally meeting Damian’s eyes. His jaw was grit tightly together, and his brow was set it a strange determined focus.  “Jonathan,” he said again, and suddenly Jon noticed how utterly strange Damian was being, “I need you to get Alfred.”

“Damian? What? What’s wrong?” Said Jon, pulling out to crouching awkwardly between Damian’s still spread legs— he didn’t miss the wince of Damian face as the half broken bed frame  jolted to readjust to the change in weight. 

Jon squinted focusing and preparing to use his x-ray vision to check Damian over for injuries, but Damian was too quick, reaching out, grabbing his neck and pulling him close.

“Don’t look,” he said, a little desperately, “You’ll be upset, don’t look.”

“Damian I’m freaking out right now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Really it’s nothing, beloved. I just need Alfred.”

“Please just let me look.”

Finally Damian let go of Jon’s neck and in a small kind voice said, “I know you didn’t mean to.” 

Really Damian had been right, Damian was always right. He really wished he hadn’t used his X-ray vision. Three of his upper right ribs had been jaggery broken, and one was hanging dangerously close to his lung threatening to puncture. His left feamer was snapped clean in half. The giant tear through his hip tendon. Plus the dramatic hairline fracture running up and down the slide of his pelvis. 

Jon forced himself to stop looking, he didn’t want to see any more.

Damian reached up to press a kiss to Jon’s cheek but Jon flinched away. 

He was pretty sure he was going to throw up. 

“Beloved,” Damian said evenly as though his body didn’t resemble one just his full speed with a cement truck. “Can you do me a favour?”

Jon gave a terrified nodded.

Damian smiled. A genuine smile that made Jon have to grab his mouth to prevent throwing up. “My car keys are on my desk. Taken the Bentley, taken it along the Old Gotham freeway. I’d say drive her a nice 100 miles per hour, there’s a large telephone pole near intersection, crash directly into that.”

“Damian—“

“I know, it is a shame. But I suspect father will buy me a new one anyway. A worthy sacrifice I suppose.”

“No Damian— stop— what are you talking about?”

“Well, beloved,” Damian said causally slowly stroking the back of Jon’s neck, the slightest into a strain in his laboured breath, “I will need Alfred to take me to the hospital, and when I get there, there will be question as to how Bruce Wayne’s wealthy sheltered son ended up in such a state. Reckless driving will do the trick, I suppose.”

Damian eyed him curiously, as though nothing about this situation was odd in any way. As if he’d simply stubbed his toe and required Jon to go fetch him a band-aid. 

“I— um— alright—“ Was all Jon could muster in his utter confusion. 

Damian reached out and squeezed Jon’s hand, “Meet me at Gotham General in an hour, alright?”

“I—I—“ Jon managed, but did his best to try and sit up properly, the shifting in the now broken bed lead to another not so well hidden wince from Damian, and Jon felt his stomach drop. 

Fuck, he was so useless. So panicky. He’d done something horrible to Damian and now he couldn’t manage to do this one thing without hurting him more. Oh god, what was wrong with him. Damian was asking him to do one simple thing and Jon couldn’t even do that right. “Jonathan?” Damian asked gently, “Are you alright? You don’t have to crash it if you don’t want to? I can ask Richard or Todd too instead? I just thought it’d be safer if you did since you’re invulnerable?”

Damian was right, he was invulnerable. He wasn’t even human, not really. He was a fucking alien. Some impossible splice of genetics that shouldn’t be able to exist. 

“Beloved?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jon needed to leave. He need to get away from Damian and his terrible shallow breaths and his lungs that didn’t contract all the way. 

Jon shuffled to pull his jeans back up over his hips, and finally, he chanced a glance back over at Damian who just gave him a curious smile in return. It really made everything all the more horrible.

So he grabbed the car keys and flew. 

Jon was sitting in the burning fiery reminds of Damian’s Bentley Continental GT, and the red hot flames lit up the sides of his hoodie. He lent his head forward on the dash and pressed his face into the steering wheel. There was a dull pop as the engine of the car exploded, but Jon wasn’t paying it any attention. He knew logically he should get out of the car and head over to the hospital before the police arrived, but he didn’t want to move.

Never in his entire life had felt so horrible. 

Careless, reckless, stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He could have killed Damian— he’d put him in the hospital with how stupidly selfish he’d been. 

It was supposed to be a special moment between them. Their first times— something vulnerable and silly and perfect. He’d wanted to share that moment with Damian, this boy that he had fallen so fucking deeply in love with. It was supposed to be special. It was supposed to mean something. 

He wasn’t supposed to send his boyfriend to the hospital for fuck sake. 

He knew he needed to go visit him. Check on him. He’d done this to Damian, hadn’t he? At least he should have the courage to fly over to the hospital and see for himself what he’d done. 

He was such a coward. 

There were voices shouting, a siren whirling. The burning Bently must have been spotted. Fuck, he needed to get out of the car and go find Damian. 

Jon hated the smell of hospitals. They always made him feel queasy, like something terrible was about to happen. Alfred was already there, sitting placidly in the waiting room mulling over a magazine. 

Jon couldn’t help wondering what Damian had told him. Did he know Jon had done this to Damian? That this was all Jon’s fault. That Jon was a horrible disgusting inhuman monster who had hurt the person he was supposed to love and protect all for his own selfish desires— his own careless neglect. 

Alfred who he’d known since he was ten years old. Who trusted him and loved him just as much as the other children he cared for. What would he think of Jon? 

Jon turned on his heels, preparing to run for it when a sturdy hand clapped him on the shoulder. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up! Alf said u were off crashing the Bently— what took you so long?” Said Dick, grinning down at him.

Jon froze. His gut lurching out of his throat. Oh god. Jon couldn’t speak. Dick. Oh god, Dick was going to hate him forever. He’d hurt Damian— Dick was going to murder him.

“You alright kiddo?” Said Dick squeezing his shoulder again. “B's just speaking with the doctors at the moment, but when he’s done why don’t we call go downstairs and get something from the cafeteria, you look really pale.”

“Bruce is here,” Jon finally squeaked out. 

“Yeah, we finished up patrols about half an hour ago and thought we’d pop in to check Dames had everything covered. Seriously? Are you okay?”

“I think I need to sit down,” He whispered, swaying a little. He was sure he was going to throw up. 

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea,” said Dick carefully, using an arm on Jon’s neck to gently direct him over to a seat. 

He couldn’t breathe. The world was spinning. Oh god, oh god. Bruce was here. Dick was here. Alfred was here. They all knew what he’d done. What he’d done to Damian. Damian, who was in fucking hospital right now because of him. He couldn’t stop picturing Damian’s broken body. What he’d done. He could have killed him. He hadn’t even thought about it. He hadn’t even taken a second to consider what he could have done. 

“Is this about Damian?” Dick said softly, his hands running slow circles up and down Jon’s back. “He’s fine kiddo. A bit scratched up but he’ll be out of surgery soon— he’s dealt with worse. These things happen, okay? And Dames can be reckless, and trust me, kid, I know it can be hard when your partner gets hurt on the job— but that just how it is sometimes.”

“W—what?”

“Seriously kiddo, he’s fine.”

Jon was shaking now, he hated how kind Dick was being. How he was caring from Jon like he was another of his little brothers— only because he thought Damian got hurt on patrol. Because he thought some criminal had done this to Damian and not him. 

Dick let out a gentle laugh, “Plus if it makes you feel any better, Damian’s gonna get his comeuppance for being so reckless. He’s now down one bently.”

Oh god. He didn’t want Damian to be punished. This wasn’t Damian’s fault. He’d done this to Damian. Jon was pretty sure he was crying. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. Fuck he hated everything so much right now. Mumbling over and over agin, it’s all my fault.

“It isn’t,” Dick said calmly, “The only person who’s fault it is the criminal who did this to him in the first place alright.”

“I—“ Jon started. 

“Mr. Grayson,” a nurse called. Jon looked up. She wasn’t alone. Two police officers were standing beside her. “We need to discuss something about Damian’s case.”

Dick looked up, confused, just as Bruce stormed out from one other the long hospital hallways. He didn’t spare a glance at anyone as he left, something dangerous wafting off him. Dick stood making to call out for him but the nurse called his attention again. 

“Mr. Grayson. With me please.”

Dick froze and finally, watching Bruce disappear out of the hospital in that strange rage, stood and follow the nurse and the two officers. 

Jon knew he shouldn’t eves drop. But he was helpless to stop it. He needed to know what they were saying. If Damian was going to be okay.

“Mr. Grayson— we have reason to believe the car crash was not the cause of Damian’s injuries,” Said one of the police officers.

“I don’t know what you mean? Did you find his car crashed on route 40?”

“We did, and it quite a state too. But—“

“Damian’s injuries were not cause by the collision,” the nurse said gently. 

“Broken bones sound like pretty common car crash injuries?” Dick said defensively, “Seriously, you know who Damian is, right? You really think he’d the kinda kid who’s going to be getting into fights or anything? How else could he have gotten hurt.”

“Mr Grayson,” she said, and Jon didn’t like what was in her voice, “When I was examining your brother, as well as his broken bones… there were other injuries that suggested violence of a sexual nature… As well as semen found on his body. I know this is hard to hear but the police need to know if you know of anyone who could have done this to Damian.”

Dick didn’t say anything. He didn’t speak for a very long time. Until in a very quiet voice, he asked, “Can I see him?”

“He’s still in surgery at the moment, but once he is out and rested you’ll be able to see him.”

“And you don’t know who did this?” Dick asked, with that same terrible hollow voice. 

“We are currently running a DNA profile on the assailant, but so far no match seems to be on our database.”

“Okay…” Dick said quietly. And Jon heard the door open, and then slam closed. 

Jon was going to throw up. He was actually going to throw up. They thought Damian had been… Oh god. He couldn’t breathe.

“Jon,” Dick said. He was crouching in front of him now, his eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw set. “Jon, I need you to tell me who did this to Damian.” 

“I— I’m sorry.”

“No Jon, this is serious, I need you to tell me right now who did this to Damian. You need to tell me.”

“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know you’re sorry, kid, but I don’t have time for this right now. I need you to tell me.”

He was holding Jon’s face in his hands forcing Jon to look into his terrified unblinking eyes.

“I really didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry— I didn’t think— I didn’t mean to hurt him…“

“…What…” Dick let go of Jon’s face, recoiling. And Jon final let the vomit out, the word vomit.

“We were just kissing at it was fine and I didn’t think it could go so bad. And it sort of just happened, and we hadn’t even talked about it before and I know I should have asked my Dad or Conner but Damian said he didn’t want to come out— and I knew they’d tell people. And I didn’t even know what I was doing. And I thought everything was fine, and I didn’t know I could hurt him— and it seemed like everything was fine— and I just didn’t think I could hurt him like that. I just thought for a moment we could be normal teenagers— I was so stupid— I hurt him— I love him and I hurt him and I didn’t mean to but that doesn’t make it better—“

“Jon,” Dick said quietly, he sounded exhausted. He was sitting on the floor now, his head in his hands. “So you're telling me that you and Damian had sex, and you lost control of your powers.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“Okay kiddo,” Dick said tiredly, slowly standing, he patted Jon’s knee once. “You sit tight for a second, I need to go find Bruce.”

“Are you going to tell him what I did?”

“Yeah. He’s probably on a rampage trying to find out who did this to Damian— if I don’t he might kill someone.”

“Is he gonna kill me?”

“You’ll be fine kiddo,” Dick said with a gentle chuckle, and patted his knee again, “I’ll be back soon alright.” He said before turning and following the path to the exit of the hospital. 

And Jon just collapsed back into his seat and tried not to cry. 

An hour later, Bruce and Dick were back along with Tim and Jason, giggling to each other beside the vending machine. And it seemed they’d come with backup. 

His dad was staring him down from across the hospital, his arms folded, slowly shaking his head.

Jon was so fucking dead. 

“Can’t believe the demon brat really landed himself in hospital trying to get dicked down,” Tim said into his hands, and Jason let out another bellow of laughter.

“If you both are going to be crude about this you can wait back at the manor,” Bruce snapped. 

“No way I’m missing this scolding,” Said Jason with a smirk. 

“This isn’t funny Jason,” said Dick.

“I mean, it’s a little funny.”

“Boys, final warning!” Bruce shouted, “This is not a laughing matter.”

Jason and Tim blinked absently at bruce, and then met each other's eyes— and then very quickly both burst out into laughter. 

Jon tried to focus on them, instead of his father whose's disappointed glower was growing stronger and stronger with each second as he moved closer, before finally sitting beside Jon. Jon didn’t miss how Jason and Tim’s giggle suddenly tapered off the moment his Dad sat down.

And with a deep sigh, he said, “Please tell me you at least wore protection.”

Jon didn’t answer.

Clark groaned into his hands. “Your mother is going to murder you when you get home— actually no, she’s going to murder both of us.”

“Jon…” Clark sighed, “You could have asked me about this stuff.”

Jon let his face fall into his knees. Really all he wanted was to make sure Damian was okay, and then he could fly into the sun and never be seen again. 

“Jon… We’ve talked about your powers before— you know you…” Clark took a breath. 

“Do we have to do this now…”

“Mr Wayne,” Jon looked up as a doctor approached Bruce, “If you’d like to see your son, he is currently awake and stable.”

Tim let out a low ‘oooh.’ And moved to follow after Bruce, but was held back by Dick. Automatically Jon was standing too. 

“Can I see him?” Jon asked, rushing over— probably dipping into his super speed.

Bruce and Dick shared eye contact for a moment before Bruce gave a slight shake of his head. 

“In a moment, I’d like to speak with him in private first.”

“Oh… Alright…”

He watched as Bruce and Dick followed the doctor off to see Damian. 

Tim was laughing into his hand beside him. 

“This might be the best day of my life, I won’t lie.” He said to Jason between chuckles, before reaching for his phone and typing something, “Think about all the ammunition.”

“Little brat is never going to be able to talk shit ever again.”

This was probably why Damian hadn’t wanted his family to know about him and Jon. Fuck, Damian was going to be pissed.

Tim laughed again and typed some more. 

“Who you texting,” Jason asked, leaning over Tim’s shoulder. And then with a muffled grunt as he saw the screen, “oh you little hypocrite.”

Tim snorted and shoved him away. 

“Hey,” Jason said excitedly, turning to Jon, “What’s Bruce saying?”

“I—“ He didn’t really want to overhear what Bruce was saying to Damian, it would be too personal and he already hated himself enough right now. 

“I’m not…” Jon mumbled, fumbling away from them both to the safety of his dad.

His phone pinged, a text from Conner.

Conner

Ur an idiot

U should have asked me about this stuff dude

R u alright?

Jon groaned and slumped back into his chair.

“Are you ready to talk about it yet?” Clark said sternly.

“No,” Said Jon, really desperately wishing this was all a dream he could just wake up from.

Not so long later, Bruce and Dick returned— both of them scowling with a vengeance. Fuck, they were headed straight for Jon. 

“He wants to see you,” said Bruce, his voice eerily close to that he used for batman— like he’d just been shouting it raw.

Fuckkk.

Jon stood and follow Bruce down toward the room Damian was in. He gave Jon a stern, dangerous glower as he opened the door allowing Jon inside. Jon gulped as he step in, and the door shut behind him leaving him alone with Damian.

And then, it was okay.

Damian was sitting up in his hospital bed, lazily flicking through the small television, looking bored and pouty. His eyes flicked over to Jon and he grinned setting down the remote. 

“Beloved,” he said cooly, scooting over in the bed so Jon could come to sit beside him, and Jon could do nothing but follow his command. 

“Are you alright?” He said frantically, holding Damian’s face in his hands. Damian sunk into the touch with a soft smile. 

“Good as new,” he said simply. 

“Jesus, Dami, I’m so sorry. Really— I—“

“Don’t apologise,” Damian said, pressing a kiss to Jon’s wrist, “I was more worried about you, you looked terrified last I saw you, Habibi”

“Of course I was— Dami— I hurt you!”

Damian rolled his eyes and slinked away from Jon’s grip, “Oh don’t flatter yourself. You were only able to because I let you.”

“I really am sorry Damian, seriously.”

“Stop apologising, you idiot. I knew what I saw doing.”

“Dami—“

“Seriously Jonathan. You could pluck the moon out of the sky and send it hurling to earth without even breaking a sweat— and I’m not stupid. I knew our intimacy would likely result in some injury on my behalf.”

“I— You knew? You knew this would happen? That you’d get hurt?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid Jonathan.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, it was just some stupid mistake and I really am sorry.”

Damian’s brow furrowed and his whole expression went strangely soft, “A mistake? Do you regret it?”

“Of course!” Jon said, squeezing Damian’s wrist.

“Did you not enjoy it?”

Enjoy it? How could Jon ever enjoy hurting Damian? 

“Of course not!”

“Oh…” Said Damian after a moment, slowly pulling his hand out of Jon’s grip. “I’m sorry,” said Damian in a hushed voice.

“You’re sorry?”

Damian shrugged and looked away from him. “I wanted to be your first but I’m sorry I wasn’t…” he trailed off, his whole face had gone a bright pink. 

“I’m am not experienced when it comes to… things like that but…” Damian cleared his throat and stopped himself from going on. 

“Damian, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

Damian groaned and finally swirled back to face him, “Alright, I mean I guess it's just… I wanted it to be good for you. I know you’ve been with other people— more experienced people. But… I wanted to have something special, something that was just for us.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me I was hurting you?”

Damian shrugged. 

“Damian, it was your first time too— I wanted it to be special for you too…”

“It was. It was with you,” he seemed to be getting angrier now, “You’re the one complaining about regretting it and hating it!”

“Damian, I hurt you. I’m not okay with that.” 

Damian scoffed, “Then go complain about how terrible I am to someone else!”

“You— You weren't terrible. Jesus, Damian.”

“High praise,” he sneered. 

“I love you, and I— being with you like that— It was… But hurting you— it just isn’t worth it. And— and you didn’t tell me what I was doing… You should have told me I was hurting you.”

“I’m sorry,” Damian whispered, “I promise next time I will.”

“Next time? I don’t— I don’t want to go through this again.”

“Never?”

“Yeah.”

“Because of me?”

“What?”

“If you were with someone else. Someone like you— someone who wouldn’t break. You’d do it again.”

“But I am with you.”

“Yes but say you weren’t. Say in this hypothetical It was someone who was just as invunrable as you. Would you want it then?”

“I…”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. And you can leave.”

“Damian, no! I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian scowled and rolled his eyes. 

“Damian, I love you. I’m not leaving.”

“Yes but now you think I’m this breakable china plate.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You may as well have.”

“Damian, the idea of hurting you is just— I’m not doing that. I love you too much. I could have killed you. I really could have. I’d never be able to live with myself if I did that to you.”

“I enjoyed it,” Damian whispered, moving just a bit closer to Jon. “I want to do it again someday.”

“I— what?”

“I liked it. I liked the feeling of you inside me,” Jon could feel his ears heating up, feel himself flush at the way Damian was looking at him, how his voice was soft around the words he was saying, “I liked how it felt when you first pushed into me, it hurt a little but I could feel you right there. I liked your hands on me. I liked your mouth on my neck. I liked how you said my name, like it was the only thing you could think to say— like it was gospel. I liked how my thighs shook and how they felt around your waist. I liked how u held me still, how you moved with me. I liked the noise you made when you came, how it felt inside me,” he gave Jon a gentle yet saddened smile, “I liked how I thought you liked it too— though I guess I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Oh?” Damian said with faux curiosity, his breath grazed his cheek, “Tell me then?”

“Dami— I— I’m not going to—“

Damian smirked, “Thought you said you didn’t enjoy it though?”

“I didn’t enjoy the part where you got hurt.”

“But apart from that?”

“I— yes… I liked it.” He hated his blush.

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Jon would never say no to that. Dipping forward and pressed a gentle open-mouthed kiss to Damian’s lips. Slow and careful even as Damian opened into it, kissing back. 

Slowly he pulled away.

“And yet you say you never want to do it again?” Damian whispered against his lips.

“I—“

Damian dipped his head back and kissed him again. 

Jon gasped as Damian pulled away far too quickly. 

“I— I’ll need some time…” He finally said, “To be okay with trying again.”

“I’m patient,” Damian said with a pleased smile. 

“I really am just glad you’re okay,” he said stroking the side of Damian’s face with his thumb. 

“I’m perfect,” Damian whispered back, knocking their noses together, “I have you, beloved.”

The following week after losing his virginity, was utter hell for Jon. His mom had been pissed, and his dad too. And he’d had to sit through a three and a half hour lecture on safe sex which involved wayyyy too much detail about himself being conceived. Later Conner came over to both check on him and laugh at him and also attempt to give some big brother words of wisdom which mostly involved, “are you sure that kid's the right one for you? He bites anything that comes in a meter radices of his face— are you sure you want to be putting your dick anywhere near that?”

He wasn’t allowed to say at the manor anymore, and Damian wasn’t allowed to say at Metropolis. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to visit for a few moments without his door being shoved wide open. It was hell, but at least Damian was healing pretty quickly. He was still on crutches and not allowed out on patrol but nothing seemed like long-lasting damage, which was a plus. 

But they weren't in the closet anymore. When Jon saw Damian he could reach out and hold his hand and kiss his cheek even if his brothers were around. Tim and Jason still hadn’t stopped cracking jokes about the incident. 

But it was okay. More time passed and things went back to normal. Once Damian even managed to bypass the manor security to let Jon in to cuddle for a few hours before Dick finally realised and burst in screaming at the top of his lungs, his hands firmly clamped over his eyes even though he and Damian were fast asleep with Netflix still playing softly on Damian’s laptop. 

It was four months by the time either of them brought it up again. They were making out on a rooftop after patrol, laying next to a large stone gargoyle, Jon’s cape sheltering them from the wind. They’d been going at it for a little while, and Jon was quite quickly reaching his limit, the fabric of his uniform catching every so often on Damian’s utility belt as he gently rocked against him— attempting to ease the need for friction. And he really really didn’t want to stain his uniform, that would be an embarrassing one to explain to his mom when she did the laundry. 

Dead puppies, his grandma in a bikini, Lex Luther's shiny bald head. None of it was working.

“Fuck, babe, I need to stop,” Jon cursed finally breaking away from Damian, he pressed his face into the crook of Damian’s neck and gave one final longing rock of his hips before sitting back. 

Damian took a long steady breath, gazing up at the stars above. 

“You don’t have to stop,” Damian whispered, still sounding a little dazed.

“You really want to be fucked on a rooftop where anyone down below could see?” Jon chuckled, but his grin fell when Damian met his eyes, slowly sitting up too and crawling toward him. 

“Maybe.”

Fuckkk. Jon was far too horny for any of this, his dick was so hard that it was actually starting to hurt. 

“Doesn’t have to be here,” Damian whispered, coming closer, “You can fly, can’t you?”

Jon’s dick really liked the implication of that.

“Could take me up, high above to clouds where no one could see.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re only just now learning this?”

Jon reached over and kissed him again, and his dick gave an approving twitch in his pants as the two sank back beside the gargoyle. 

“We so can’t do that,” Jon gasped against Damian’s mouth, grazing his teeth down Damian’s neck slowly.

Damian made an appreciative sound and Jon ground his hips down into him. 

“You should probably stop then,” Damian gasped. 

“Yeah I know,” Jon said, and kissed him again. “I really really should. But I really really don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to either.”

“But we should stop.”

“We should.”

He was sucking a hickey into Damian’s throat, biting softly as his hands roughly grabbed Damian’s ass, using it as leverage to force Damian to rock back against him harder. 

“If you don’t stop I’m going to cum,” Damian gasped.

“Me too,” and he shoved his hands down Damian’s pants— and Damian was coming in his hand, and then so was Jon. 

Damian was still holding him, smiling lazily at him as Jon pulled back a little to wipe his hands on his cape. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to do anything like that?” Damian asked into the cold night air. 

“I’m a liar?” Jon offered with an awkward smile. 

Damian rolled his eyes and smiled back, “Were you alright with it?”

“Yeah,” Jon said quietly.

“But you still don’t want to go any further than this? Right?” Damian asked gently.

“I don’t know…” Jon admitted, “I think maybe… I might be ready…”

“Yeah?” Damian asked, sitting up fully, almost knocking his forehead against Jon’s if it wasn’t for his reflexes jerking him back just in time. 

“I mean just that… I want to… I just… I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“We could go slow you know? And I promise I’ll tell you if I think you're losing it to your powers— or we can wait longer if you want. I don’t mind…”

“No… I think I’m ready… I’m just… nervous about it… I don’t want to fuck everything up again.”

“What did you like about last time?” Damian asked.

“I… I don’t know… All of it I guess— well not all of it— not after… But— But I liked when you took control at the start— and how you’d hold on to me… and ummm… I liked watching you when you…” Jon cleared his throat, “Why?”

Damian smiled, “Thinking about how we can keep the good parts but rid the not-so-good bits. Trial and error I suppose.”

“But Damian… If we do go further… You need to promise me you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you.”

Damian gave a solemn nod, “I promise.”

“Plus I think you’re forgetting the main problem. I’m not allowed over at yours unsupervised."

“Oh, psh, I’ll get us a hotel or something.”

“Yeah? You’ve actually thought about all this?”

“More often than I’d like to admit.”

“I see,” Jon said, smirking, “When were you thinking of getting this hotel?”

“Next weekend? My father is busy with riddler’s Arkham escape. He won't notice if I’m gone for the night.”

“Yeah… Next weekend works for me…”

And so they set the date. The Saturday of next week. It felt a little odd sticking it in his calendar, but Jon was far too nervous and excited to not. 

He arrived a little early to the hotel, strutting around the bougie hotel lobby until Damian finally arrived, neat in a crisp black button-up and a black duffle through over his shoulders. 

“Beloved, he greeted, pressing a kiss to the side of Jon’s face, taking his hand and leading him toward the elevator. 

It was the penthouse suite, Jon noted, stepping out of the elevator and into the lavish hotel room. There was a couch and a fireplace and a huge flatscreen tv, and a kitchenette with a marble counter. There was a huge canopy bed in the middle of the room, right next to the large glass windows, it was decadent and extravagant and so very Wayne-ish. 

Jon was already running for the tv to scan over the different video game consoles beside it. 

“This is epic!”

“Do you like it, Habibi?” Damian asked softly, and Jon turned his head to look at him, and all the nerves sunk back into him instantly. Damian was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, and casually leaning back on one elbow as his free hand snaked up the front of his shirt, slowly pulling the buttons free of his shirt. 

Jon gulped. Damian reached the midway point of his buttons, his tanned chest exposed in the sunlight, meeting Jon’s gaze to smirk. 

“Are you just going to sit there and watch?” He asked cooly, popping the final button of his shirt, and slowly sliding it off his broad shoulders. 

Then he reached out and crooked a single finger toward himself, beckoning Jon over. And Jon follows, caught in Damian’s spell. 

He stood in front of Damian, watching in awe as Damian found the hem of his hoodie and helped lift it over his head— his cool hands running over the ridges of Jon’s abdomen. 

Damian gave a pleased hum and his palm skirted up and down Jon’s torso, and then he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the side of Jon’s hip. 

Jon grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him up into a kiss, shoving them both down into the middle of the bed, crowding him with his weight, his elbows bracketing the side of Damian's face.

Damian’s skin was warm and flushed against Jon’s lips as he slowly kissed down his throat, he liked this version of Damian. The calm and placid version he saw rarely sees. The one that loved him like this, and held him and kissed him back like nothing in the world mattered. 

They kissed for maybe too long, and Jon is aching for more but he wasn't sure where to go. Their kissing was calm and gentle and it didn't seem like they had any direction in their actions. It wasn't like last time when they had been so set on moving from one act to another, intent and determined. 

It sort of just happened when Jon let his hands dip below Damian’s boxers. Gently thumbing the head of his cock with his thumb. Damian gasped into his mouth, and Jon found how he really liked that noise. He broke the kiss and slowly stroked him once more, and Damian got a little louder. 

He found himself staring back at Damian, watching as his face calmed, as his lips opened, as his eyes shifted and met Jons. 

His body was warm and his chest was heaving, and as utterly terrified as Jon felt, seeing Damian look like that made everything just that much easier.

Slowly, he shifted down the bed and pressed a gentle kiss beside Damian's navel, still stroking him, as he worked his boxers down his hips. 

Damian’s was not as big as him, he noticed, wrapping a hand around the base and giving a gentle squeeze. He twitched, and a bead of pre-cum formed at the head. 

And then hesitantly, Jon leant down and licked it. It was salty and weird, but not entirely unpleasant. He did it again, this time along the underside of his cock. Damian twitched again, and moaned properly this time. And that was all the encouragement Jon needed as he took the head into his mouth, his eyes flitting up to Damian. 

Damian was staring back at him in sheer amazement, his hands coming up to grasp at the sides of Jon’s hair, massaging the base of his skull. He liked how Damian tasted, he found. Liked the feeling of his heartbeat on his tongue. Liked how, when he sank down further, could feel him right in the back of his throat. His tongue flickered over the head, and he liked most when Damian made that sound and when his hips arch up and his hair fall over his eyes. How he gasped. How he whispered Jon’s name. How he said things in a language Jon didn't understand but loved anyway. 

He still wasn't quite sure what he was doing. But he was following an instinct, he was following Damian really.

“Jon,” Damian gasped, and pulled at his hair so hard, on anyone other than Jon it would have hurt. He felt Damian’s ankles cross his neck, simultaneously pulling him away and locking him in place. Jon's nose was pressed all the way into the dark hair just above Damian’s cock, but it was Damian who was gasping for air. 

Jon’s name was like a manta on Damian’s lips, and he’d always liked how Damian called him by his full name but right now Damian’s formality was all gone, so all he heard was a string of, Jon. Jon. Jon. Jon.

He was getting louder, slowly meeting a crescendo. 

“Fuck,” he swore, “You need to stop,” he gasped out finally, letting his legs relax on Jon’s shoulders, allowing him to pull off, a string of saliva still connecting them as Jon sat back slowly. 

“Not good?” Jon asked.

“Too good,” Damian said, he was lazy about it. His voice was low and gruff in a way that sounded entirely unfamiliar to Jon. 

“Oh,” Jon said awkwardly, he was starting to feel weird again. Just crouched between Damian’s legs, salvia-soaked cock pointed up at attention beside his face. He tried to move up Damian's body, but he wasn’t quite sure where to go. Could he kiss Damian again? Would Damian be okay with that? Was this okay? Was this what he was supposed to be doing?

They just sort of stared at each other. Unsure of how to proceed. And Jon felt heat creep up the back of his neck and tried desperately not to blush. 

Finally, Damian sat up. His eyes were still fixated on Jon. He was smiling just so, his head tilted curiously to the side. 

“Lie down on the bed.” He instructed as he sat up a little more, moving out of the way for Jon to take his place. 

Damian, slipping his pants all the way off his ankles, he stood and started for the duffle bag he’d left. Jon gulped and tried to focus on the ceiling.

He felt the bed shift as Damian returned to him, a bottle of lube in his hand, and a condom in the other. He was kneeling on either side of Jon’s thighs, completely bare. Jon took a deep breath. It was a lot. 

“Do you want to wear a condom?” Damian asked casually, “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I—I—“ Jon spluttered, “I think I should, right? I think I’m supposed to…”

Damian raised a humorous brow but set the condoms beside Jon on the bed. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything— it’s what you want to do.”

Jon gulped but nodded all the same. 

“You’ve fought horrors most could never even imagine— one of the most powerful beings on this earth…,” Damian said, leading down to kiss him. Soft and slow, nipping at his lower lip. “And you’re scared of me, like this.”

His hand rested on Jon’s chest, warm and firm against Jon’s heartbeat.

“I like it,” He said against Jon’s breath. 

It wasn’t that he was scared of Damian. More so of what he might do to Damian. But Damian liked power, and he seemed to like this a whole lot, so Jon didn’t feel like correcting him. 

He felt Damian shift against him, his cock leaving a smear of pre-cum against his abdomen as he moved to sit higher on Jon’s lap. Oh. That was really nice. 

“You should take these off,” Damian whispered against his lips, reaching behind him to fiddle at the clasp of Jon’s jeans. 

Jon broke the almost kiss, and Damian groaned against him, trying to chase his lips as Jon shifted his jeans and boxers off his thighs.

His cock slid against the crease of Damian’s ass and Jon’s brain short-circuited. Damian laughed against his lips. 

God, he loved that sound. There was more shifting and he felt Damian rock against him once more. His hip jolting up involuntary off the bed and making Damian squeak in shock and the sudden movement. 

“Hold still,” Damian said kissing his cheek before sitting up fully, his palms resting on the tops of Jon’s thighs to keep himself steady. 

And then he let go with one hand, and Jon focused in as he heard the sound of the lube bottle being opened.

Damian was staring down at him, green eyes flashing, a smirk pulling onto his lips as he settled on Jon’s hips, pouring the lube onto two fingers.

“You said you liked this part, right beloved?”

Jon’s throat went dry when Damian’s hand moved behind himself. There was a little gasp, and Damian’s mouth made a perfect silent oh.

Jon swallowed hard as Damian’s thighs tensed around him and shook just so. 

He was hamming it up a little, Jon knew. This was different from last time, rocking back onto his fingers, whimpering against his own touch, and though his eyes stayed closed, ever so often he would peak one open to check Jon was still watching him. 

Jon wasn’t sure how much of it was real and how much Damian was just doing for him. But Jon couldn’t help but love it anyway. Damian's skin caught in the setting sun, turning him gold in the light, and the rivet and curves of his body flexed and coiled with every slight movement. His plush lips, his dark thick brow that furrowed in concentration, the flush working its way to his cheeks, the mole right beneath his eye, the fluttering dark lashes that used to make all the girls at school chase him around with mascara. 

Jon reached around him, and grabbed his wrist, holding it tight and forcing his movements still. 

Damian’s eyes shot open and he levelled him a confused gaze. 

“Let me,” Jon whispered, “I want to.”

Damian stared and follow a strange flash in his green eyes, finally nodded, inching forward on Jon’s chest as Jon uncapped the lube. It was cold on his fingers and had a weird constancy.

Damian just stared down at him silently watching. 

Finally, Jon reached behind Damian and gently trailed his slick fingers around his hole, before finally allowing one to sink inside. Damian leaned forward, arching his back so the finger slipped all the way to the knuckle. 

He was so hot inside, and tight in a way that both terrified and excited Jon. Carefully, he worked the finger out and then back inside. Damian let out a soft breath. Jon tried again, still slow. And Damian arched back to meet him. 

Still curious, this time Jon added a second finger. It was warm and wet and it sucked him inside in a way that made Jon’s brain go fuzzy. 

“Harder,” Damian finally whispered.

And gnawing on his lip, Jon tried to oblige. Thrusting into him and accidentally curling his fingers a little with the force of it. 

Damian’s mouth opened against him, slow and silent in a gasp. 

“Right there,” He muttered, his chest starting to heave with anticipation. 

“Like that?” He asked, trying again.

“Fuck, yeah, like that.”

He found a pace, chasing Damian’s hips as they rolled back against his fingers. Damian’s forehead collapsed onto his chest, letting himself be worked open by Jon’s fingers.

Jon couldn’t really see what he was doing, but he liked the feeling of Damian nonetheless. He really liked the feeling. 

He liked most when Damian would tighten around him, and exhale hard against Jon’s skin. 

“Dami,” Jon breathed, gasping a little at the sensation of Damian around his fingers. 

Damian let out a low breathy huff in reply, letting his temple rest on Jon’s still furiously thumping heartbeat, he could feel the sweat begin to bead at Damian’s hairline, could feel his hot breath against his chest, his open-mouthed gasps as Jon slid inside and then back out. 

It was a tip that Conner had given him during their talk, that slipped into his head. At the time he’d been groaning with embarrassment with his hands firmly planted over his ears, but with superhearing, it wasn’t like any of that would help. 

He sat up a little, focusing on Damian’s body, his x-ray vision honing in past where the human eye could see, to his own fingers, to that tiny little bundle of nerves inside Damian. His fingers found it easily and curled upward to brush against them. 

He didn’t need x-ray vision to tell him he found it. Damian’s reaction was a sign enough. A wrecked low moan shook his entire body, and when Jon did it again, Damian shivered, biting Jon’s pectoral to keep whatever noise quiet. 

Jon was a little worried Damian might chip a tooth on the muscle, and allowed his fingers to gently slip out of Damian. 

Damian wined and dazedly shook his head against Jon’s chest, slowly he tilted his head to the side, and blinked up at Jon with glassy green eyes. 

He was smiling, and still breathing hard, laying flat on his stomach on top of Jon. 

“Not made of glass, Kent.

No, he wasn’t, he was far more fragile than that. To Jon, Damian may as well have been made out of tissue paper.

There was a flicker of spite in Damian’s eyes when Jon didn’t reply, narrowing, lips curling downward in determination, his brow raised and pointed. The face he made when he had something to prove. It terrified Jon a little, but his dick had a very very different reaction. 

Damian’s frown slipped into a daring smirk as he repositioned himself on Jon’s chest, sitting up in a kneel, hovering just above Jon’s cock. 

“Condom?” Damian asked cooly, as though he was asking for Jon’s last words, as though he hadn’t been fucked out to the brink of orgasm seconds prior. 

Jon gave a weak, still terrified nod, and watched in silent awe as Damian reached over to the side of the bed for the condom, he was meticulous about it, with careful focus on tearing apart the packaging and reaching down to roll the cold latex over the head of Jon’s cock. 

Jon grit his teeth at the feeling of Damian’s hand beginning to slide down his cock. 

“You know,” Damian said casually, though his voice still held the subtle hints of desperation from moments prior, “it’s a bit of a shame, I really did enjoy the feeling of your cum inside me last time.”

Jon’s throat went dry, and in a strange garbled flurry of squeaks he let out, “Actually forget the condom— I don’t need it—“

Damian smirked down at him but just gave a simple malicious shake of his head, and with the click of his tongue he said, “Tt, should have said that earlier, shouldn’t you?”

That evil motherfucker. 

Damian may have been Batman’s son, but in that moment of wicked narrowed eyes and the dangerous sly smile, his Al Ghul side was clearly in charge. 

Before Jon had the moment to spit back a reply, Damian was slowly sliding down the length of his cock. 

“Fuck!” Jon shouted, gripping the bed sheets for desperate purchase. 

As much dangerous resolve and sly determination Damian pretended to display on his expression, Damian’s body told a completely different story, his thighs shaking madly as he lowered himself down, and his breaths though as steady as he could manage came out clipped and forced. 

Jon reached out and gripped Damian by the back of his thighs and held him steady, preventing himself from lowering any further, as much as he would have liked to do the exact opposite, slam Damian all the way down and fuck up into him just as his body was begging him to do. 

“You look so hot, Dami,” Jon said in distraction as Damian glowered at Jon’s hands.

“I think I’d look better on your cock,” Damian countered. 

Ah Damian, full of pride and half a cock, Jon didn’t know why he’d expected any different. 

“We’ve got all night.”

“Tt, you think you’ll last that long?”

“You think I won’t?”

“Why don’t you let go of me and we can find out.”

“I’ve got superhuman strength and stamina, Dames, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Have you already forgotten, Hayseed?” Damian asked with a playful tilt to his head, “I like it dangerous.”

Jon, falling for the taunting just as he always did, finally let go of Damian’s thighs and let him slide all the way down, tight and hot and everywhere. 

Damian wasn’t quick enough to hide his gasp and the way his whole body tensed and tightened around Jon. 

I liked how it felt when you first pushed into me, it hurt a little but I could feel you right there, he’d said. It’d didn’t help to calm Jon’s nerves, though the feeling of Damian’s tight body around him was enough of an escape to forget his fears, at least for the moment. 

That was until Damian started to move. 

Slow at first, a gentle rocking like he’d been doing rutting against Jon before. A subtle back and forth that had Jon squeezing his fists white. It was half torturous and half brilliant. It didn’t take long for Damian to begin rolling his hips in long languid strokes, holding onto Jon’s thighs for support as he ever so slowly, lifted himself off and back down again. 

The gentle rocking rhythm of Damian’s hips almost made Jon miss the expression on his face, almost. His mouth opened, push and kissed red, face flush and dampening with sweat, his normally slick gelled hair fallen loose with his exertion, leaving his messy natural curls to flutter down over his eyes, forcing him to flick his head every so often to keep his view of Jon clear. 

“Rao…” Jon whispered, awestricken, reaching upward to pull those strands of loose dark hair out of Damian’s eyes and tuck it safely behind his ear. 

Damian looked like a fucking angel, and Jon soon found himself sitting up and following his hand to kiss Damain’s cheek, gently, and very very carefully, letting his hands rest on the junction of Damian’s hipbones, sliding up slowly to trace his ribs and find his heartbeat that Jon could heart so loudly, reverberating through the room. Jon knew it was just his super-hearing, but part of him couldn’t help but think that he’d be able to hear it anyway, it was just so loud, so recognisable, so very Damian.

He kissed Damian’s cheek again and groaned into his skin when Damian started to move faster, lifting his hands from Jon’s thighs to wrap around his neck to keep his pace. Faster and faster, and Jon was losing himself in the feeling of it, wrapping his arms around his waist, using the grip to help Damian lift himself up and down, all the way this time, Damian clutched the nape of Jon’s neck, his fingers knotting in the long hair there and pulling hard enough to really hurt if Jon were human. 

Their mouths slid against each other, Jon was moving Damian too fast for them to form any sort of proper kiss, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Split second moments, of lips caught in between teeth, a hot tongue gliding against his own, a moan reverberating through them in tandem as their lips met each other. Jon wasn’t sure where his body ended and Damian’s body began, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

It was just Damian and him. Damian everywhere, his touch, his body, even the air Jon was breathing was Damian. 

The one mistake they’d made was doing it at sunset, when the rays of light shone right through the huge glass window of the hotel penthouse, glaring bright amber against Jon’s back, full of heat and power, and as wonderful as it was, Jon could feel himself losing it, reaching the brink of no return, and being too blinded by lust to pull himself back, and it was a terrifying moment of free fall where he felt his body spark and take control over his conscious, his hand’s tighten, his muscles harden. 

“Beloved,” Damian gasped against his mouth, calm and breathless and grounding. 

“Beloved,” Damian said, a little louder, letting go of Jon’s hair to take hold of both sides of his face, his breathing was ragged and dry, and his legs were shaking so violently Jon physically couldn’t let go of Damian or risk them giving in. But Jon stilled, finding Damian’s face mere centimetres from his own. 

“Are you alright?” Jon whispered, in a voice that didn’t sound anything like his own.

Damian gave a dazed fucked-out nod. 

“Do you want to stop?”

Damian, still with that lazy blissful smile shook his head, and then, with no warning, grabbed onto the sides of Jon’s shoulders, and flipped them on the bed with Jon still inside him. 

“Here,” he said, taking hold of one of Jon’s hands, and placing it on the bed frame, doing the same with the other on the other side of his head. 

“You sure?” Jon asked, breathless, and still dizzy from the feeling of still begin inside Damian.

Damian, despite his wanton, fucked-out state, gave a judgmental quirk of his brow, that Jon couldn’t help but lean down and kiss. 

Damian let out a long pleased sigh when Jon carefully rolled his hips into Damian. 

He looked beautiful like this, in the twilight sun, his skin pure gold in the light, the sweat making his glisten and shine, and his lazy lolling mouth parting into soft moans as Jon moved inside him. He was a striking picture of both danger and security. Those vibrant green eyes, pure and bright and promising, like a colourful viper used it's shiny scales to warn its deadly nature. Or that pretty mouth, that could moan Jon’s name just as easily as it could bite out insults that would stay with you until your very last breath. Those hands that gripped at Jon’s back, that racked down his spine, could just as easily be used to wield a blade. It was all so very very Damian. That mix of light and dark, the tittering on the edge of danger but never quite crossing it.

And Jon knew at that moment, that he would love this boy until the end. 

It wasn’t just about sex, it wasn’t about anything other than them. Damian and Jon. 

He knew when Damian came, he saw it in his face before it happened. The slow gentle unravelling of the body beneath him giving into the unfamiliar feeling. Jon could probably count the list of times Damian had ever cum on one hand, and it was utterly strange and so very wonderful to watch him spill apart in his arms like this, without even needing to be touched. 

“Oh fuck,” Jon said, still fucking Damian through his orgasm, determined not to miss even a single second of it, even as he felt his own climax coming close, the sharp tightness of Damian’s body as he came overwhelming him. 

“Beloved,” Damian gasped out, as heat spurted between their bodies, and that was all Jon really needed. 

He could feel that urge, the thrumming of sunlight beneath his skin, but it was that single word that kept him whole, kept him present. 

It came upon him in a wave, rolling up his spine and through his body as the heat in the bottom of his stomach exploded, and that desperate want in his cock almost became too much. 

He lost it, but for just a moment, pulling himself back just enough as his hands lost their careful grip on the headboard, splintering the wood right down the middle splitting it in half, the hardwood canopy above them coming down and splintering apart on Jon’s back, there was a disturbing jolt as the legs of the bed came in too, with only that spilt second of inertia to warn him that the whole bed was coming down. 

Beneath him, Damian gave a little tired huff of a laugh.

“Jonathan Kent, you are a menace.”

“At least I only broke the bed this time,” Jon said, his heaving breaths sliding the canopy top resting on his back precariously, threatening to teeter over and fall to the floor. “Right?” He asked, finally daring to look at Damian. There were down features in his hair, and wood shavings littering his face like freckles. 

“Only the bed,” Damian said with a pleased smile, and then after a pause, “Next time we’ll work on you not demolishing any furniture that my father will get the receipt for.”

“Oh, shit…”