Dream A Little Dream.
Pairing: Bruce/Jason [Batman]
Date Written: January 7, 2006
Bruce is sitting on the sofa and Jason is naked, warm, and pliant in his lap. His mouth is wet and hungry at Bruce’s neck, sharp little teeth digging into Bruce’s flesh and making his pulse pound harder. Bruce’s hands cup Jason’s ass and pull him closer. He can never get him close enough. One of his hands moves up to grasp Jason’s chin, tilting his head up so Bruce can kiss him. Softly at first, but then his tongue flicks out to touch Jason’s lips and it all becomes so hungry and desperate. Jason tastes like bubble gum and sunshine, clean and pure, until Bruce bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed, then he tastes like salt and iron, like the earth. Bruce can’t get enough. He sucks hard at the wound he’s made until Jason’s lips are swollen and coated in blood. Bruce pulls back to admire his handiwork before leaning in to lick the blood away. Jason squirms in his lap, pressing hard against Bruce’s groin and Bruce groans against Jason’s lips. He guides Jason’s hand to his zipper, not that he has to, Jason’s other hand is already undoing the button on his pants. Jason sits up a little and Bruce lifts his hips to allow Jason to slide his pants and boxers down, revealing his cock. Slowly, Jason licks his lips, making them look even more red and swollen than they already are. Bruce grabs Jason’s hip with one hand and guides his cock inside Jason with the other. Jason moans and it’s a low sound, almost a growl, as he pushes himself down on Bruce’s cock. His movements on Bruce are fluid and full of grace and he holds Bruce’s eyes the entire time.
“Jason,” Bruce repeats it like a mantra.
Jason moves harder and faster on his cock, using his shoulders for leverage, his whole body shaking and shivering with each movement, his cock rubbing up against Bruce’s stomach. And then Jason is moaning louder and louder until he’s screaming. He’s screaming Bruce’s name as he comes hard against Bruce’s chest. His sharp little teeth draw blood where Bruce’s neck and shoulder meet as he more or less squirms in Bruce’s lap and Bruce comes just as hard, his scream muted against Jason’s shoulder.
“Jay…”
It’s barely a murmur and then Jason is melting against him with a purr. But the melting doesn’t stop. Jason keeps melting like candle wax while Bruce screams and screams until finally Jason is nothing but a taffy-colored puddle in his lap.
Bruce’s own screams wake him up out of the dream. He sits up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest. It’s been years since Jason’s funeral. Years since he’s had that nightmare, but now that Jason is back, he has it every night.
Slowly, Bruce slides out of bed and pads to the bathroom where he splashes water on his face. He takes deep breaths as he wipes the sweat off his chest and cleans himself up. He’s in the middle of changing boxer shorts when he catches a shadow in the mirror. Bruce turns and lightning flashes outside the window, revealing the shadow’s owner. Jason. Red Hood. Bruce blinks in disbelief, not quite sure if this is a remainder from his dream or not. But no, Jason is still standing there in jeans and a T-shirt, domino mask on.
“Jason?” Bruce says softly and slowly.
“Bruce,” Jason answers with a smirk. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No,” Bruce answers automatically. Strangely, he feels a blush creeping up his neck.
“Really? Looks like it.”
“What are you doing here?” Bruce changes the subject as he finishes putting on the boxer shorts. “How did you get in?”
“I was watching you sleep.” Jason pauses and his face twists up. “You were saying my name.”
“I was?” Bruce feigns surprise.
Jason steps closer. “Not just saying it. Screaming it. First in ecstasy, then in pain. Why?”
“It was just a dream.”
“No shit, Bruce. What was the dream about?”
“It’s not important.”
“It was about me. I think I have a right to know.”
“Dreams belong to no one but the dreamer.”
Jason snorts in irritation. “Bullshit.” He steps even closer. “Tell me.”
“Get out.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. That doesn’t work now.”
Jason closes the gap between them. Bruce stands stock still while Jason stares him down.
“I watched you, Bruce. I know what kind of dream that was. Not just a nightmare.” Jason glances down at Bruce’s groin pointedly. “And it was about me.”
The flush at the back of Bruce’s neck starts to creep up toward his cheeks. “I…”
Jason touches the edge of Bruce’s blush. “So, how old was I in this little fantasy of yours? Fifteen? Fourteen? Thirteen?” Bruce’s eyes cut away from Jason’s. “Thirteen, huh? That’s a riot. Never knew you had it in you, Bruce, so to speak.”
“It was just a nightmare.”
“You got off on it. It wasn’t just a nightmare,” Jason puts mocking emphasis on the last of the sentence.
Bruce looks back to Jason and growls slightly. “I didn’t want you like that at that age. I don’t know why…” Bruce trails off with a frown.
“At what age did you want me then, eh, Bruce?”
Bruce shakes his head. “I didn’t mean…” He sighs. “You’re my son.”
Jason leans in and brushes his lips against Bruce’s ear. “You want me. Admit it. You wanted me then and you want me now.”
“No.”
Bruce shoves at Jason’s shoulders half-heartedly. Jason doesn’t move. He just flicks his tongue out just below Bruce’s ear. Bruce shivers involuntarily.
“Stop.”
“Admit it.”
Jason kisses Bruce’s neck. Sharp little kisses. Just like in his dream. Bruce groans. His hands come up to rest on Jason’s shoulders. They’re so much more filled out now. Bruce has to span out his hands to touch all of them. More sharp little kisses and then Jason’s teeth are digging into his shoulder.
“C’mon, Bruce.”
The words are muffled. Bruce groans again.
“I…” Jason sucks at the wound he’s made. “I wanted you then and I want you now.”
Jason’s head lifts. “You sick motherfucker.” But he says it with a grin.
Bruce isn’t sure what to say. Or do, for that matter. He stands there and watches Jason warily.
“I would’ve let you. Have me then.”
Before Bruce can reply, Jason’s mouth is descending on his. His kisses are incendiary and Bruce can’t help but open his mouth to Jason’s, to find that he tastes just like he did in the dream. Bubble gum and sunshine and then salt and iron and earth as Bruce bites down on Jason’s lower lip, drawing blood. Jason pulls back after a second and licks the blood away.
“How did you have me in the dream?”
Bruce is panting and he barely hears the question. “You… you were in my lap, riding me.”
Jason shoves Bruce toward the bed. Bruce ends up sprawled half on it and half off it. Stepping forward, Jason rips Bruce’s boxer shorts off. Bruce gasps in surprise and then sits up on his elbows and watches with hunger in his eyes as Jason strips out of his clothes, leaving the mask on. Jason climbs into Bruce’s lap and pushes down against his cock.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
Bruce pushes his hips up slightly and Jason squirms in his lap. For a second, Bruce closes his eyes and imagines a smaller, warmer Jason, but then he opens them again as Jason starts to guide his cock inside of him. Once Bruce is fully inside of him, Jason begins to move on him, his sharp teeth descending on Bruce’s neck. Bruce moans and pushes up to meet Jason’s movements. He doesn’t notice Jason reaching for something until it’s too late. Until the knife is pressed up against his throat. Bruce’s hips still.
“Don’t stop.” Jason’s voice is almost flat. Bruce swallows hard and starts moving again. After a few seconds, Jason speaks again, his voice low and full of venom. “I hate you. You let me die. You let me die and you dream of this? You sick, sick fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
He means it too, but Jason just laughs in his face as he moves faster on Bruce’s cock. Bruce can’t stop himself from coming. The guilt when he does is overwhelming. He tries to hold Jason against him, to keep him from moving away, but Jason easily breaks out of his grasp and slides out of his lap, but keeps the knife at his throat.
“I could kill you. I could kill you and you’d deserve it.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.” It’s barely a whisper this time.
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have let me die.”
“I love you,” Bruce repeats with a fierceness that seems to surprise Jason.
Jason backs away and drops the knife. Bruce makes no move to retrieve it. Jason shakes his head and then starts putting his clothes back on while Bruce stares away from him, ashamed. He doesn’t turn his head until he hears the latch on the window click. Only then does he dare to look where Jason had been standing. All that’s left is the knife. Bruce slides to his knees to pick it up and carries it back to bed with him. When he wakes up, it’s gone.
Date Written: January 7, 2006
Bruce is sitting on the sofa and Jason is naked, warm, and pliant in his lap. His mouth is wet and hungry at Bruce’s neck, sharp little teeth digging into Bruce’s flesh and making his pulse pound harder. Bruce’s hands cup Jason’s ass and pull him closer. He can never get him close enough. One of his hands moves up to grasp Jason’s chin, tilting his head up so Bruce can kiss him. Softly at first, but then his tongue flicks out to touch Jason’s lips and it all becomes so hungry and desperate. Jason tastes like bubble gum and sunshine, clean and pure, until Bruce bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed, then he tastes like salt and iron, like the earth. Bruce can’t get enough. He sucks hard at the wound he’s made until Jason’s lips are swollen and coated in blood. Bruce pulls back to admire his handiwork before leaning in to lick the blood away. Jason squirms in his lap, pressing hard against Bruce’s groin and Bruce groans against Jason’s lips. He guides Jason’s hand to his zipper, not that he has to, Jason’s other hand is already undoing the button on his pants. Jason sits up a little and Bruce lifts his hips to allow Jason to slide his pants and boxers down, revealing his cock. Slowly, Jason licks his lips, making them look even more red and swollen than they already are. Bruce grabs Jason’s hip with one hand and guides his cock inside Jason with the other. Jason moans and it’s a low sound, almost a growl, as he pushes himself down on Bruce’s cock. His movements on Bruce are fluid and full of grace and he holds Bruce’s eyes the entire time.
“Jason,” Bruce repeats it like a mantra.
Jason moves harder and faster on his cock, using his shoulders for leverage, his whole body shaking and shivering with each movement, his cock rubbing up against Bruce’s stomach. And then Jason is moaning louder and louder until he’s screaming. He’s screaming Bruce’s name as he comes hard against Bruce’s chest. His sharp little teeth draw blood where Bruce’s neck and shoulder meet as he more or less squirms in Bruce’s lap and Bruce comes just as hard, his scream muted against Jason’s shoulder.
“Jay…”
It’s barely a murmur and then Jason is melting against him with a purr. But the melting doesn’t stop. Jason keeps melting like candle wax while Bruce screams and screams until finally Jason is nothing but a taffy-colored puddle in his lap.
Bruce’s own screams wake him up out of the dream. He sits up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest. It’s been years since Jason’s funeral. Years since he’s had that nightmare, but now that Jason is back, he has it every night.
Slowly, Bruce slides out of bed and pads to the bathroom where he splashes water on his face. He takes deep breaths as he wipes the sweat off his chest and cleans himself up. He’s in the middle of changing boxer shorts when he catches a shadow in the mirror. Bruce turns and lightning flashes outside the window, revealing the shadow’s owner. Jason. Red Hood. Bruce blinks in disbelief, not quite sure if this is a remainder from his dream or not. But no, Jason is still standing there in jeans and a T-shirt, domino mask on.
“Jason?” Bruce says softly and slowly.
“Bruce,” Jason answers with a smirk. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No,” Bruce answers automatically. Strangely, he feels a blush creeping up his neck.
“Really? Looks like it.”
“What are you doing here?” Bruce changes the subject as he finishes putting on the boxer shorts. “How did you get in?”
“I was watching you sleep.” Jason pauses and his face twists up. “You were saying my name.”
“I was?” Bruce feigns surprise.
Jason steps closer. “Not just saying it. Screaming it. First in ecstasy, then in pain. Why?”
“It was just a dream.”
“No shit, Bruce. What was the dream about?”
“It’s not important.”
“It was about me. I think I have a right to know.”
“Dreams belong to no one but the dreamer.”
Jason snorts in irritation. “Bullshit.” He steps even closer. “Tell me.”
“Get out.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. That doesn’t work now.”
Jason closes the gap between them. Bruce stands stock still while Jason stares him down.
“I watched you, Bruce. I know what kind of dream that was. Not just a nightmare.” Jason glances down at Bruce’s groin pointedly. “And it was about me.”
The flush at the back of Bruce’s neck starts to creep up toward his cheeks. “I…”
Jason touches the edge of Bruce’s blush. “So, how old was I in this little fantasy of yours? Fifteen? Fourteen? Thirteen?” Bruce’s eyes cut away from Jason’s. “Thirteen, huh? That’s a riot. Never knew you had it in you, Bruce, so to speak.”
“It was just a nightmare.”
“You got off on it. It wasn’t just a nightmare,” Jason puts mocking emphasis on the last of the sentence.
Bruce looks back to Jason and growls slightly. “I didn’t want you like that at that age. I don’t know why…” Bruce trails off with a frown.
“At what age did you want me then, eh, Bruce?”
Bruce shakes his head. “I didn’t mean…” He sighs. “You’re my son.”
Jason leans in and brushes his lips against Bruce’s ear. “You want me. Admit it. You wanted me then and you want me now.”
“No.”
Bruce shoves at Jason’s shoulders half-heartedly. Jason doesn’t move. He just flicks his tongue out just below Bruce’s ear. Bruce shivers involuntarily.
“Stop.”
“Admit it.”
Jason kisses Bruce’s neck. Sharp little kisses. Just like in his dream. Bruce groans. His hands come up to rest on Jason’s shoulders. They’re so much more filled out now. Bruce has to span out his hands to touch all of them. More sharp little kisses and then Jason’s teeth are digging into his shoulder.
“C’mon, Bruce.”
The words are muffled. Bruce groans again.
“I…” Jason sucks at the wound he’s made. “I wanted you then and I want you now.”
Jason’s head lifts. “You sick motherfucker.” But he says it with a grin.
Bruce isn’t sure what to say. Or do, for that matter. He stands there and watches Jason warily.
“I would’ve let you. Have me then.”
Before Bruce can reply, Jason’s mouth is descending on his. His kisses are incendiary and Bruce can’t help but open his mouth to Jason’s, to find that he tastes just like he did in the dream. Bubble gum and sunshine and then salt and iron and earth as Bruce bites down on Jason’s lower lip, drawing blood. Jason pulls back after a second and licks the blood away.
“How did you have me in the dream?”
Bruce is panting and he barely hears the question. “You… you were in my lap, riding me.”
Jason shoves Bruce toward the bed. Bruce ends up sprawled half on it and half off it. Stepping forward, Jason rips Bruce’s boxer shorts off. Bruce gasps in surprise and then sits up on his elbows and watches with hunger in his eyes as Jason strips out of his clothes, leaving the mask on. Jason climbs into Bruce’s lap and pushes down against his cock.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
Bruce pushes his hips up slightly and Jason squirms in his lap. For a second, Bruce closes his eyes and imagines a smaller, warmer Jason, but then he opens them again as Jason starts to guide his cock inside of him. Once Bruce is fully inside of him, Jason begins to move on him, his sharp teeth descending on Bruce’s neck. Bruce moans and pushes up to meet Jason’s movements. He doesn’t notice Jason reaching for something until it’s too late. Until the knife is pressed up against his throat. Bruce’s hips still.
“Don’t stop.” Jason’s voice is almost flat. Bruce swallows hard and starts moving again. After a few seconds, Jason speaks again, his voice low and full of venom. “I hate you. You let me die. You let me die and you dream of this? You sick, sick fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
He means it too, but Jason just laughs in his face as he moves faster on Bruce’s cock. Bruce can’t stop himself from coming. The guilt when he does is overwhelming. He tries to hold Jason against him, to keep him from moving away, but Jason easily breaks out of his grasp and slides out of his lap, but keeps the knife at his throat.
“I could kill you. I could kill you and you’d deserve it.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.” It’s barely a whisper this time.
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have let me die.”
“I love you,” Bruce repeats with a fierceness that seems to surprise Jason.
Jason backs away and drops the knife. Bruce makes no move to retrieve it. Jason shakes his head and then starts putting his clothes back on while Bruce stares away from him, ashamed. He doesn’t turn his head until he hears the latch on the window click. Only then does he dare to look where Jason had been standing. All that’s left is the knife. Bruce slides to his knees to pick it up and carries it back to bed with him. When he wakes up, it’s gone.