He couldn't help it. Nothing in him could ever help it when it came to thinking about Jason's thighs. The first time Damian had ever seen a photo of Jason's Robin outfit had also been the first time he'd gotten an erection in a public situation. Of course, he'd been smart enough to keep it hidden under his cape and he'd also made some disparaging comment about how little it covered as though he hated the idea of it. In truth, the image had been seared into his brain and he had no desire to remove it.
For months, it had featured prominently in his fantasies, both waking and in his dreams.
It had taken him nearly two years to figure out why the image affected him the way it did; unfortunately, it had been Jason stripping off in the cave showers that had informed him. The very instant Jason's thighs were revealed it had been a hopeless endeavor for Damian to take his shower at the same time. He'd have shamed himself into next century if he had, though he also hated himself every night for not following, if only to complete the images he had of Jason in his mind's eye.
Even with as little modesty as any of them had, they still didn't tend to strip off entirely in front of one another. Down to their undergarments, sure, but beyond that was an act reserved for just inside the shared shower, garments tossed to the floor just outside the tiled floor. Even with as much as Damian had seen in his life, he'd still never seen any of them completely nude from the front.
Damian squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable as his erection tented out the front of his jeans. It really wasn't the time for his mind to be wandering. They'd just finished up a light lunch and moved down to the cave to go over some files for their latest shared case. Most of it was Bruce and Jason talking and Damian listening, which – given how he was presently fairing – was probably a good thing. Damian wasn't honestly sure he could function on any significant level at the moment, most of his blood having traveled south for the time being. He shifted again, swallowing down a gasp at how good it felt to get some amount of friction involved.
Jason leaned over the back of Bruce's chair, one hand on the console, one on the headrest, his hips cocked, ass presented just so. The material of his cargo pants bulged around his thighs, the seams appearing to strain under the added pressure and Damian managed enough brain function to wonder just how many pants Jason ripped with muscles like that. His cock twitched and he discretely palmed himself under the table, shivering as he squeezed and then let go.
He tried to focus on the case files, managed snatches of the conversation, but nothing was really sticking except the image Jason was presenting to him. Every shift of Jason's body brought Damian pleasure and every squirm in his seat brought him closer to the edge until he was actually scared he was going to spill right there, right inside his pants in front of his father and Jason.
The idea of it stuck with him, left him wanting to get off just like that if only to know if he could get away with it. On the other hand, it wasn't like he was surrounded by normal people. They'd both inevitably know what he'd done. If not immediately, then when they reviewed the footage.
His fingertip tapped lightly on the table, soundless but rapid, his need growing, his gaze pinned on those magnificent thighs. He abruptly stood, turning away before anyone could glance at him, and wordlessly excused himself. He ducked into the locker rooms, prayed they'd think he had gone to take a piss, and hurriedly wrenched his pants open, shoving the waistband of his underwear beneath his balls. One hand grasped his sac, squeezing, the other starting to frantically jerk over his dick. He was so horned up he could have honestly spilled right then.
His head hit the wall, his hips arching as he closed his eyes and imagined holding Jason's bare hips, caging Jason's thighs with his own and slotting his dick between them. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, his hips jerking in an imitation of what he wanted to be doing to Jason's perfect thick thighs. He wanted to fuck up between them, wanted to shoot his load right up between them, coat them in his affection.
His belly clenched, his hand moving faster, his entire world hazing out into a dull roar as he let go of his balls and shoved his fist against his mouth, desperate, straining.
The single word ripped Damian from his pleasure, yanked him back from the ledge like he'd been leashed and collared and dragged away. His breath gasped in as he scrambled to reach down and cover himself, fear lancing through him at having been caught. He stared up at Jason's shocked face, panting more from terror than from his arousal. His hands worked to get his underwear back in place and stuff his desperately hard cock back into his jeans and zip up.
"Uh..." Jason blinked and then hedged past Damian to the urinal a few feet from him. "I'd wait if I could." The words were apologetic, filled with an empathy that Damian wasn't sure he deserved right then. He felt frozen, glued to the spot, humiliated and teetering on the edge of panic. He heard Jason unzip and then the sound of him relieving himself against the porcelain.
His mind told him he should leave, should bolt to his room and refuse to come out. His body told him to stay, to look while he had the chance. His nerves frayed at the edges and his heart thumped sluggishly in his chest. Resting his head back against the wall, he breathed out a shaky little sigh and lolled his head to the side, watching from under lowered lashes. He could barely see anything, a tiny strip of flesh, mostly he could just hear the sound of Jason pissing for what seemed like forever. At least he hadn't been lying about needing to go.
He swallowed hard against the cotton feeling in his mouth, worked his tongue over the roof of his mouth, and hoped against hope that this didn't change anything for the worse.
Jason stepped back from the urinal and for one blissful second, Damian saw his cock. Cut, unlike his own, the slight variant of skin color where his foreskin would have been, and then Jason's underwear were in the way and Damian squeezed his eyes shut, let his cheeks color with the humiliation he felt, and swore to himself he'd make it up to the universe somehow that he'd just looked at Jason's dick for the sole reason of having more accurate wank material.
He heard Jason's zipper and then his hand heavy on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "I won't say anything to anyone else. Promise. I'm sorry for walking in."
Damian just nodded, his entire body feeling numb. Jason's touch left him and his footsteps retreated.
Damian slid down the wall, crouched there, his head bowed and his fists clenched at his sides. Agony burned in his chest. What if Jason knew? What if he'd just made things horribly awkward for every mission from here on out? What if Jason refused to go on missions with him now?
He pressed one fist to his mouth, pressed until it hurt, and then pushed himself to his feet. He checked to see how obvious his pants were, found he wasn't actually showing anymore, his fear having killed most of his erection. He straightened his shirt and his resolve, squaring his shoulders and putting on his slightly ticked-off face before returning to the main room, standing on the other side of his father, his arms crossed and a glower on his face that would have melted ice.
His father asked him a few questions about the case and Damian gave him clipped answers from what little he'd gleaned, took his orders when they were issued, and turned on his heel to go and change.
By the time he and Jason were in the field, Damian had perfected his mask of indifference, had forced the dull look in his eyes to be how he actually felt, and had neatly compartmentalized everything that had happened earlier into a neat little container to analyze later. Jason wasn't treating him any differently, so he deducted it shouldn't matter at the moment and went with it as well as he could.
Hours of work put them back on a shared rooftop overlooking most of downtown Gotham and placed Jason a bit closer to Damian's side than he would have liked given earlier. A light hand on his shoulder, squeezing, left him gritting his teeth and frantically praying that what he knew was coming wasn't about to happen.
"About earlier –"
"Do not." Damian shook Jason's hand off, narrowed his eyes behind his mask and pulled up the dredges of the venom he'd long ago squashed to use as protection if he had to.
"Just hear me out, please." Jason's voice was quiet, sincere, and Damian felt a twinge at the idea of screaming at him.
His shoulders sagged and he lowered his gaze to the ledge a few inches in front of him. He said nothing, not wanting to consent to it and not wanting to stop him either.
"Look... do you want me to hedge around things or just spit out what I'm thinking?"
Damian crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly looked away. "I'd rather you said nothing at all, but clearly that's not an option."
"It's like you think I'm oblivious." Jason sounded equal parts annoyed and exasperated. "You spend twenty minutes staring at my ass and then end up in there jerking off. Then I walk in and you look like the end of the world has come. I'm not as stupid as you seem to think."
Mortified didn't begin to cover how Damian felt right then. He squeezed his eyes shut behind his mask, fought down the urge to scream or beat Jason senseless, or to stand there and cry like a pathetic child. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his jaw until he held some semblance of control. He fished around in his brain for something to say: anything, really. Silence was as damning as a response and he was caught pathetically in the grips of exactly what he'd been doing. In retrospect, he shouldn't have been staring like that, shouldn't have been an ass about any of this. Using someone's body to get off to – someone who wasn't actively presenting it for such – was probably tantamount to sexual harassment. He was a creep, no better than the perverts on the subway who rubbed their dicks while staring at girls in short skirts.
Disgust swam under his skin as he realized just what brand of horrible he was.
Porn stars and strippers asked to be looked at while they were on shift. That was what made them money. The videos or the dances. Outside of those places they were to be left alone, treated like everyone else. Other people – well, the ones who didn't put porn of themselves on the internet – never ever invited looks like the ones Damian had been giving Jason for years now. It wasn't okay and it wasn't welcome.
Pain flared in his chest and he crossed his arms tighter over his chest. He swallowed thickly, shifting closer to the ledge, choosing to stare out over Gotham instead of anywhere near Jason. "I have been in the wrong, I realize that now. I've done horrible things that cannot be undone nor forgiven. The only thing I can promise you is that I will never do so again." He'd make certain of it. He'd never think of Jason while getting off again – never think of anyone that was real – and he'd find a way to train the dreams out of himself. Perhaps a punishment of some sort that would teach him not to allow such things to feature in his dreams. There were always techniques he'd seen his grandfather use on unfocused members of the League. Not that he wanted to go that far, but he had a feeling his brain wasn't going to pay attention to him while he was asleep and unfortunately, Damian recalled all of his dreams in vivid detail. Perhaps... learning to lucid dream would give him the control he required. He made a mental note to pick up a few books on the subject.
Damian shook his head. "I beg of you not to further this conversation. I cannot see any way for it to resolve anything more than I have already promised. I will implement a suitable repercussion for myself."
"Damian," Jason's voice was louder this time, cut through anything else he would have had to say, "Stop, for the love of fuck, stop!" Jason's hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, steered him back from the ledge a few steps. It almost felt like he was going to shake him for a second, but he didn't. Jason let go and gave Damian an exasperated look. "What the hell are you on about? Repercussions? Are you going to fucking punish yourself for staring at my ass?" He sounded incredulous. Not that Damian could blame him, it seemed like overkill if that was all Jason though he'd done.
He looked away, stared at the ground beside Jason's boot. "Not only for that."
"The hell, man? Why the fuck are you freaking out over this at all? I just thought we needed to talk about it, like sorta clear the air, not like I wanted you to lose your grip on sanity and do something fucking stupid."
Damian winced, clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, and took a deep breath. That resolved it, Jason was going to have to know just how horrible Damian was then. "Not stupid, just deserved. This is not the first time and there are many things you do not know that I have done. Things I will ensure never happen again. If that happens to involve me needing to implement some way to ensure it, then so be it."
"Oh my God, for just one second, can you be less dramatic and maybe talk about this like a normal human being?"
Anger shot through Damian's body, white hot and frantic, and his head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "Fine! Do you want me to admit to your fucking face that I've been jerking off thinking about you since I was a damn kid? Or maybe you want to know that my dreams cause the same thing? Possibly you'd be enraptured – or more accurately enraged – to know that I hold a remarkable fixation on your thighs?!" He nearly shouted the last part at Jason, watching the surprise surge across his features. "You asked for none of that and you are not a porn star I can just use for my own pleasure. I've been sick and wrong and disgusting and I will do whatever I have to in order to stop myself in the future. So fucking bite me if I'm a little on edge!"
Jason blinked at him, his mouth working wordlessly until Damian turned away in a huff. "I swear to God if you leave right now I will hunt you down and tie you up and force you to listen to not only me, but whatever music you hate most."
Damian stopped, his eyes closed, his back rigid. Jason deserved to get out whatever he wanted on Damian for this. He'd listen to it no matter how harshly it struck.
"Christ, kid... just give me a damn second to think, would you?"
Damian wrapped his arms around his middle, held on until Jason started speaking again.
"Look... I think I get where you're coming from. You're under the impression I think you're a creep for looking at me, which... honestly?" He paused, sighed. "Just isn't true. It's not like every person on this damn planet hasn't thought about someone else sexually at least once that wasn't a porn star, like you said. I mean, I can't imagine the last time I actively thought about a porn star while I was getting off. It's usually someone I know or someone from something I read. That's... normal? Or at least I think it is. So, on that count, I think you need to cut yourself some slack. Like, yeah, maybe it's a little jarring to learn abruptly that you've been looking at me like that for years while I've been... what? Treating you like you're just a child even though you're not anymore?"
Damian winced, tightened his arms around himself again, hunched in a bit. It hurt to be legal to drink and still shoved in this ridiculous little box like he was still a damn child.
"I'm not angry over being thought about or even about being looked at. I don't think you need to stop yourself or be angry at yourself over this. I do think you need to have a few conversations with some people about if they've ever thought about other actual people while... you know." Jason took in a deep breath and sighed it back out. "Maybe starting with a friend of yours who probably heard all of this. Hell, he can probably give you dirt on half of us for things we've said while alone, you know? Like, shit, if you want proof I've done it, just ask him or Clark. God knows I'm not exactly quiet about my thoughts when I'm alone."
A thrill shot through Damian at the idea of asking Jon about Jason's masturbation habits. He felt the creep of arousal start to buzz through him and he tried desperately to squash it back down again. "It's not like anyone ever tells you what is and isn't normal..." he let it hang on the air, reached up to drag his hand over his cheek and then let it fall by his side. "I never have any basis as to if I've fucked something up again or not. Only people's reactions to what I've done. I was raised... well, you know where I was raised and by whom." Damian let that hang between them for a moment before shaking his head. "Whenever someone reacts in a non-positive way about something I've been doing that I'm uncertain if I should have, I tend to... overreact. I am aware this is an issue of mine and also aware I do not have the time to accurately deal with it."
"Yet you were going to train it out of yourself to stop thinking about me?" Jason sounded vaguely amused and Damian bristled slightly.
"Does it not make you uncomfortable that I do?"
Damian turned at that, studied Jason's face and wished like hell he could see his eyes. He supposed at least he didn't have his damn helmet on. Sighing, he turned away again. "All the same, I will try not to. It's unfair, particularly when you hold no interest in me." He started for the opposite end of the roof, intent to actually go find a private spot and a minute of Jon's time.
"I never said I didn't."
The words drifted to him and froze Damian in place, left him with his lips parted and his entire body in shock.
"Just... calm the fuck down, have those discussions, and see me when you're more rational." With that, Jason was gone and Damian was left to stand there, confused and beyond shocked.
He gave it a few minutes before breathing out Jon's name and accepting the way Jon pulled him into his arms the instant he was there. He let him tuck him in against his body and held on as they left the rooftop.
Once they were safe in Jon's bedroom, Jon let him go, and Damian flopped onto the chair next to Jon's bed, peeling his mask away and letting it fall to the floor beside his chair. He felt exhausted, run through the wringer, and worse.
Jon sat on his bed, pulled one leg up and turned toward Damian, leaning forward on his hands and tipping his head to study him. "He's not wrong, you know. Most of the populous has whispered someone real's name at some point or other while in the throes of their own pleasure."
Damian tried valiantly to stop the shiver of arousal from growing inside him. He also failed massively, shaking with it, pressing his thighs together and gritting his teeth.
"Do you want to know who Jason's thought about while alone that I've heard?"
Damian's breath hitched, stuck in his throat, arousal swift as it surged through his body, leaving him tingling and hopelessly done in. He gave a breathy, "Yes," before he could stop himself.
"The girl in the apartment a few doors down from him, a guy at the shop he frequents on Tenth Street, Roy, Kori, Dick, and upon one shining occasion that I think he probably hated himself a bit for... Bruce."
Damian winced a little. The idea of someone jerking off thinking about his father was... well, it wasn't entirely displeasing but it wasn't exactly wonderful, either. He chewed his lip a little and finally asked, "Have you?"
"Yes." He glanced up when he sensed Jon's hesitance, watched the minor battle on his features and then saw his acceptance. "Mostly you, honestly. Sometimes a few of the other boys from school and at times actors or whatever."
Damian swallowed, the revelation that someone thought about him while getting off settling within him. He let it exist inside him, turned it over and over, and found it didn't make him feel any differently about Jon. He still liked him, still thought the world of him. If anything it gave him a little extra ribbing material or – given his super hearing – the ability to tease him in a variety of ways. None of them bad, though a few of the ideas verged on naughty. He chewed at his tongue, thought about thinking of Jon while he pleasured himself and felt a white-hot flush of arousal shimmer through him at the idea.
It wasn't as if he were in love with Jason or anything. He just wanted him to some irrational degree. More accurately, wanted those damn thighs. Even seeing his dick hadn't done for him what seeing his thighs had. But thinking of Jon... well, that set off an entirely different array of feelings. He thought of all the times he'd seen him nearly naked in their lives, all the times they'd changed in front of one another, all the moments he could use to think about, and he didn't stop the little hot rush of his breath.
"What are you thinking?"
"That the idea of you thinking about me is actually really hot."
He heard Jon's quiet laugh and the bed springs shifting. He half expected touch but then when he finally opened his eyes, he found Jon laid out on his back, arms pillowed beneath his head, his gaze on the ceiling. "In our old apartment complex, the next door neighbors were married. Some of the first times I got off were because I could hear them fucking and it made me unbearably horny. I'd hear him jerking off, too, after she'd leave for work in the mornings. It was like clockwork. Every morning, six fifty, he'd get in the shower, start washing, and then jerk off. Also like clockwork, he'd moan someone else's name. It wasn't like it was only one other person. He'd go for a week thinking about an Emily and then another two weeks stuck on a Monica. Just an ever rotating array of people who weren't his wife that he jacked off thinking about. Sometimes I'd think about him when I got off back then, about the sound of him stroking his cock or how he was free enough with his sexuality that it never once affected him with his wife. I started realizing everyone did it. Even if it was super rare." Jon made a little face. "I've heard Dad before, too. I will not say who he was thinking about, but it certainly wasn't Mom."
Damian huffed out a laugh at that, relaxing a little. "I have a few guesses."
"I wouldn't tell you if you were right or not. If you want to know, ask him yourself."
"Maybe I will," Damian teased lightly, watching Jon's cheeks heat and his nose scrunch.
"Gross, I'd have to hear you ask."
"Mmm... maybe just to torture you then."
"Like you don't torture me already?"
Damian cocked his head, studied Jon's profile. He shifted in his seat, drawing his feet up to rest on the edge of his own cape so he didn't dirty Jon's chair. "By thinking about Jason?"
Jon gestured vaguely toward Damian. "By never moaning the name I wanted you to." He turned his head, met Damian's gaze and offered a lopsided smile. "Super hearing has its disadvantages, too. Knowing that every person you've ever wanted doesn't feel the same way is one of them. Comes with the territory, you know? I guess you get used to it eventually, but it's hella awkward when you start dating and get to hear everything someone else says about you... or doesn't. Makes it difficult to navigate relationships long term or to even start them at times. You kind of have to get over yourself in a hurry. Learn that sometimes people aren't going to think about you like that, that maybe they never will. Stings a bit, but... life, I suppose."
Jon didn't sound hurt, only matter of fact about all of it, though Damian's heart still went out to him. "You'd really want to hear someone get off thinking about you?"
"Hell yes I would!" Jon grinned, rolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling again. "It'd be fuckin' hot, listening to them, knowing we were both getting off thinking about each other."
"You'd... do it while they did?"
"Even if you didn't really want them to start with?"
"It's kind of difficult to compartmentalize when you get to hear everyone's secrets. I think even hearing my enemy getting off to the idea of me would be hot enough to get me going."
Damian shifted, realizing suddenly that he was rock hard. He rocked a little, flexed his muscles, and sucked his lower lip into his mouth to suck on it. "Has anyone else thought of me?"
Jon grinned at that. "Yes. I'm not telling, but yes."
Damian dug his fingers into his thigh, stopping himself from reaching to grab at himself. He was still so horny from earlier. "Are you horny?"
Jon's hand lifted and gestured down toward his crotch. "I don't know, am I?"
Now that he'd been invited to look, Damian let his gaze rest on Jon's very obviously tented jeans. The shape of his straining cock was outlined in light blue denim, inviting Damian to examine it, to desire it. His own cock throbbed and he slid his feet down off the chair, leaned back until he was sure the strain he was putting on the front of his suit was obvious. He'd foregone the cup tonight, unable to get his cock to behave long enough to get it on in the first damn place. "Me, too."
Jon turned his head to look then, his gaze lingering on Damian's crotch for long enough Damian saw Jon's cock twitch in his jeans, a damp patch start to form at the head of his prick.
Damian's fingers itched to touch himself, to do it right there with Jon, to give them both some satisfaction. He didn't honestly think it'd change anything for them other than maybe bring them closer together. He let his mind wander for a moment, thinking of seeing Jon's dick, of watching him stroke it, of rutting against him frantically, of fucking his thighs. His cock throbbed and Damian felt his precum drip down his shaft, rolling down to drip over his balls. He arched, rolling his hips, breathing out, "Fuck it... I need to cum."
His eyes met Jon's as he removed his gloves and gauntlets, dropping them to the floor beside his mask.
Jon watched him, his eyes bright and his lips parted.
Damian gestured between them, reached for his own pants, hooked his fingers into the waistband, pushed his hips up off the chair and prepared to drag them down. "Want to?"
Instantly, Jon had his hands on his own jeans, unfastening them, freeing his cock before Damian could finish dragging his pants down to mid-thigh. He settled back against the chair; reached down to cup his balls, taking his dick in his other hand, gaze on Jon's prominent erection.
Jon sat up, moved so that he was sitting on the corner of the bed, his legs spread, as close as he could be without closing what little distance there was between bed and chair. His fingertip touched the head of his prick, gathered the precum there and began slowly sliding around in it, playing with it. "You have a nice cock."
Damian let out a little laugh, relaxing fully. "You have a huge cock," he returned, arching an eyebrow at Jon, watching to see what his words did.
"Bullshit. I've seen porn. Don't think me that innocent. I may have only turned eighteen a few months ago, but I binge watched that shit."
Damian couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips. "Porn is... well, it's porn, not reality. Trust me, you've got a big dick for reality."
"Let me guess... statistics?"
"How are you this logical when you're this fucking horny?"
Damian shrugged. "Experience? I've been horny as shit all night."
"Because you didn't cum earlier." Jon shifted, leaned back on one hand, held his other lightly fisted over his cock and began to fuck up into his fist, throwing his head back and gasping, his hips snapping quickly.
Damian's mouth hung open, uselessly gaping as he stared at Jon's little show, watched his closest friend fuck his fist like it was someone's tight hole, and God Damian wanted to be helping him. His brain rapid-fired images at him: taking Jon in his mouth, learning to suck dick with his friend's length shoved down his throat, Jon bending him over his kitchen table and teaching him a lesson on how big dicks felt in his ass, Jon writhing under him as Damian showed him how it felt to be taken. He gave a surprised shout as he nearly came, not having realized he was wanking himself something furious while watching Jon and thinking about wanting to do him.
He let go and reached for the chair arms, grabbing them and arching up hard, panting as he tried desperately to back off. His toes curled in his boots and his thigh muscles shook. His cock gave a feeble spurt of cum, relieving enough pressure that he could shakily settle back on the chair, breathing hard.
"You almost came." Jon sounded reverent and it was only then that Damian realized he'd stopped what he'd been doing and was staring at him.
He looked down, watched the pearly glide of his cum slide down his shaft to nestle in the dusting of hair around the base.
"I think about this a lot." When Damian cocked his head, Jon smiled softly and continued. "About us doing stuff like this together. About getting to see you cum and you watching me. About getting to moan your name and have you know about it."
Damian shivered, whispered, "Then moan it where I can hear it."
"I will," Jon breathed, pushing himself up and taking the two steps necessary to bring him to Damian's chair. He hesitated for long enough that Damian reached up for him, took his hips, and tugged.
Jon settled with his knees on either side of Damian's legs, sat back on his thighs and stared down between them. His cock twitched and Damian's breath hitched.
Damian's fingers tightened on Jon's hips, flexing there until he was shaking with the effort of not yanking them together to helplessly rut. "Want you. Want this."
With a pleased little sound, Jon took hold of him, pulled them together, rearranging them until they were pressed cock-to-cock, hip-to-hip. The chair was awkwardly jabbing at Damian but he couldn’t care less, the pleasure of having another boy's dick pressed against his own too much to give a fuck through. His hips arched, his hands grasping Jon's ass and clinging to it as he began to hump, his muscles working desperately to help him obtain his pleasure.
Jon's breath was hot against his neck, his hands seemingly everywhere, his hips jerking against Damian's, jolting them every few thrusts Damian made. Together they worked, desperation tinging their movements, their need growing between them.
The feeling of Jon's hot dick rubbing frantically against Damian's own was overwhelming, left him trembling and hot and beyond needy. He threw his head back and panted, racing toward his end, needing it like he'd never needed another thing in his life. He needed to cum, needed to do it all over Jon's cock, needed to let him know he wanted this beyond desperately.
Jon's hips snapped forward and it was Jon's startled cry and then the flood of warmth spilling down over Damian's cock that set Damian off. His hips jerked ceaselessly against Jon's, his breath lodged in his throat as he heard Jon's whisper of his name. He shuddered hard and came, his cock throbbing with every forceful spurt. He could say without a shadow of a doubt that this was the best orgasm of his entire life. Right here, with his dick pressed right up against Jon's, both of them shooting off against one another.
Damian trembled, his hand pushing down between them, grabbing them both and rubbing frantically, choked off cries leaving him as he arched and strained for it, shaking by the time his body allowed him to empty it again, his second orgasm even better than the first, leaving him crying out Jon's name over and over as he came all over his fist and Jon's dick.
They lay there together, a lax but uncomfortable pile until Jon huffed out a little shaky laugh against Damian's shoulder, breathing out, "Holy shit," before peeling himself off Damian and flopping back on his bed, staring down at the damage they'd done to his jeans, the crotch utterly smudged in cum. With a shrug, he leaned over and dug up a towel from the floor, wiping at them until they were just damp, fastening them, and tossing the towel to Damian, yanking his shirt down over them. "That was –"
"– really fucking hot?" Damian offered, getting up to get his pants back in order, sinking down on the chair again and dragging one foot up, leaning heavily against the chair, his entire body alight with what they'd just done.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jon asked, "You figure out it's okay to think about Jason if you want to, yet?"
Damian tipped his head from side to side and closed his eyes. "Maybe so... I get the point, at least. We'll see how I feel about it in the future."
"Give it a few weeks and talk to him without the self-depreciating bullshit."
Damian made a face. "I don’t do it on purpose, you know."
"Oh, I'm well aware. I'm also aware of where you get it from. Difficult to be son of the Bat and all that and not end up thinking to blame yourself for everything. But, seriously man, get over it."
"I... will try." Damian rolled his head against the chair and sighed. "Exhausted."
Jon huffed out a laugh, flopped back on the bed and patted it next to him. "C'mon, just lay down. Maybe without the armor."
Damian debated it for a minute, finally got up and ditched the outer pieces of his armor and climbed on the bed, his booted feet hanging over the edge, curled up on his side next to Jon and relaxed into the bed. "S'soft."
It didn’t take long for him to start to drift off, the sound of Jon's even breathing lulling him. His last coherent thoughts were of how he really should forgive himself and of how easy it had been to be with Jon. Both were things he was going to need to think on later and the thought wasn't nearly as daunting as it might have once been.