Midnighter has seen the blonde twink at the other end of the bar casting glances at him out of the corner of his eye. So he’s not especially surprised when the kid approaches him.
“Not interested,” he says before the kid can open his mouth, not taking his eyes off the drink in his hands.
Blondie doesn’t miss a beat. “Ok. May I ask why?”
“Just not my type, twinkle toes,” M answers, finally glancing up at him.
It’s not strictly true. The kid is a bit bigger up close than he looked leaning against the bar. He got bright eyes and golden hair and a bright aura which is definitely Midnighter’s weakness.
But the pretty little ones are never offering what M wants.
“Not into blondes?”
Midnighter snorts. “I thought I was clear—”
“Ah,” the kid hums, sounding unsurprised and a bit disappointed. “I see. Typical.”
It’s the kid’s turn to snort. “Oh? In my experience, it’s pretty standard. Big guys like you think they have to live up to their image.”
Narrowing his eyes, M turns on his barstool to look at the blonde beauty straight on for that ridiculous comment. “What the hell are you—”
“Have you ever even tried it?”
It’s not often someone manages to shock the Midnighter speechless so M just stares at him, perplexed expression twisting his face.
“Of course I have.” He snaps. Just like some punk baby gay to question his preferences in the bedroom.
The boy is pretty. In the same warm, golden way that Apollo is. Midnighter catches himself reconsidering for a moment. It’s been a long time since he plowed some twerp into the mattress but it’s not like he never has.
If he takes the boy from behind he could almost pretend it was Apollo.
That’d be rude though. And it’s not what he needs tonight.
“You know,” Midnighter says, turning back to his drink, “It’s pretty shitty to keep pestering someone who told you to beat it. Why don’t you run along before I have to teach you some manners.”
“Oh believe me, kitten,” the kid practically purrs low, smirk dangerous, “if you tried it, I’d put you in your place real fast. Guys like you think everyone should bow down but you’re all so much happier on your knees.”
Midnighter practically breaks his neck snapping his gaze back up to the wicked-witch green eyes laughing back at him.
He lets himself look the kid up and down. Maybe he misjudged things.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with, sweetheart.”
“Neither do you, princess.”
They stare at each other for a moment, measuring, gauging.
“I’m Joey,” the kid says, stepping back as if he expects Midnighter to follow. “I’m staying at the hotel around the corner. Penthouse. Up for a little fight? I win, you stay the night. You win you can do whatever you want.”
“You’re pretty confident for a rug-rat who weighs, what? 200 pounds soaking wet?” He stands and lets the full effect of their height difference become apparent. This kid could be a Bat and still not take Midnighter even without his enhancements. He towers over the younger man by half a foot and outclasses him in weight by at least 50 pounds.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he assures him. “What’s your name?”
A nicely shaped eyebrow quirks up. “M? Just the letter?”
“The only letter you’re gonna get.”
“Alright, M. You up for the bet or worried about losing your big bad bear cred when I hand you your ass? Or rather take it.”
It’s Midnighter’s turn to raise his eyebrows. This definitely seems to be going the way he’d like. It’s probably worth a couple minutes to walk to the kid’s place, kick his ass real fast, and see if he’s willing to do what Midnighter has in mind. If not he’s only really wasted… maybe 10 minutes of his life on this.
“Lead the way, Goldilocks.”
Midnighter blinks the black from his vision, instantly aware that he’s missing time.
A minute? Maybe two?
One second he’s squared up to a smug, relaxed looking Joey, teasing him about not having a proper fighting stance. The next the buzzer goes off, the computer in his brain tells him blondie isn’t planning on moving (maybe he wants to lose and isn’t that disappointing).
The next is darkness and then he’s on his knees, shirt off, arms cuffed tightly behind his back.
“What the fuck—” he snarls and tugs on his bindings, preparing to snap them.
This little shit really pissed off the wrong meta.
“Before you slip the cuffs, can you give me a second to explain?”
Joey is sitting in the armchair in front of him. Lounging lazily and unconcerned. He can see that the kid isn’t planning on stopping him if he does leave. Seems to know M can get out of this, doesn’t seem interested in taking advantage of him beyond having removed his shirt.
And boy is that a concept Midnighter had thought long gone from his life. Being at a disadvantage.
“Better talk fast, kid. What the fuck did you do?”
“I took over your body. Jumped out of me. Jumped into you. Though not in the way I’d really like to.”
His smile is bright as the sun and just as dangerous; screaming trouble at max volume.
Midnighter likes it.
“Not many people can get the best of me in a fight, squirt.”
“And I doubt I could have taken you in a fair fight.”
“You’ll never be able to take me in a fight again. Now that the computer in my brain knows your ability, it’ll work out how to beat you.”
The pupils in Joey’s eyes blow wide. “You’re Midnighter?” He asks and when M confirms, follows with, “My pop hates you.”
“Who’s your old man?” Mid asks, positive he’ll have never heard of him.
Huh. He has heard of the mercenary. But he can’t recall why the guy would hate him.
“I’m pretty sure it’s because he doesn’t know if he can take you. He doesn’t like that kind of unknown.”
Then the kid reaches out and takes M by the chin. A little rougher than necessary, but nothing Midnighter can’t handle. Nothing he doesn’t enjoy.
“I’m gonna take you though. The fun way. Unless you leave now.”
This kid is so confident, and not in the usual way attractive, young people are. It may border on arrogance but Joey is clearly experienced and comfortable with taking charge.
He licks his lips as he nods, noting the way those green eyes follow his tongue. “Do your worst, sunshine.”
“Careful,” Joey hums, wasting no time in pulling out a long, thick cock that makes M’s mouth water. It’s mostly hard already as the kid strokes it, putting pressure on the prominent raised vein. “My worst could be pretty bad.”
Oh, Midnighter is certain it is. Absolutely. But the computer is telling him that Joey’s not going to risk scaring him away so soon. Now that the kid knows who he is, he seems interested in fucking more than just tonight. He’ll build up to his ‘worst’.
Not that M expects to get off easy. Especially when Joey pulls him forward with the grip on his chin and shoves his cock down his throat with no preamble.
Joey hits the back of his throat, fists a hand in M’s hair to shift the angle, then slips deeper.
Midnighter takes it all, no problem. The kid is bigger than expected but not as monstrously huge as Apollo.
Everyone else is child’s play.
It might be cheating but Midnighter is pretty good at this. He probably would be, even without the computer in his brain but fuck if that doesn’t make it a lot easier. Every twitch and flinch and nearly inaudible shift in breathing is like reading an instruction manual for how to get Goldilocks off.
So Midnighter finds himself half disappointed, half amused when it’s only a few minutes later a telltale pulse rolls across his tongue.
But he’s thrown off the brat before the younger man can finish.
He sees that wicked smirk hovering over him as he lies on the ground, weight a little heavy and uncomfortable on his cuffed wrists.
Then there’s darkness and somehow he’s bent over the coffee table, air cooling something wet on the fingers of his right hand.
Hands holding his cheeks apart. The blunt, slick head of a cock poking at his hole before popping in.
Groaning as he’s split open, Midnighter manages to grunt out, “You—hmgh—fingered me while you—gah—possessed my body?”
“You already seemed pretty excited,” Joey says, smug grin apparent in his tone. “You’re not allowed to come before me. Didn’t know if I could trust you to do it yourself.”
It’s true. Sucking dick has always made M horny as hell. And he’s still painfully close. Especially as he pictures himself, fingers buried in his ass, with no control over his actions.
Midnighter hasn’t felt out of control since… so long ago he doesn’t even remember.
Joey twists his fingers into M’s hair again, grips Midnighter’s shoulder hard with the other hand, and snaps his hips, rocking M forward and back on each deep, ruthless plunge into his body.
“You like that, big guy?”
Mid just groans and presses back to meet every thrust as each one punches his prostate hard. Christ, a good dicking is exactly what he needed tonight. Not many men who can throw him around. Or at least, make him bend over.
“Yeah you do. I knew you were my type, papa bear. Big, ripped brute who needs a strong hand to put him in his place. Shown that he’s just another cockslut.”
“Shit,” M curses and is just about to tip over the edge when Joey takes his hand from M’s hair, reaches around him, and squeezes around the base of Midnighter’s cock.
Snarling in frustration, M tries to fuck into the hold for friction but it doesn’t budge.
A warm chest layers over Mid’s back so Joey can whisper “I told you. Me first,” into his ear.
The bastard drags it out too.
He switches from cutting off M’s orgasm, to stroking him back to the edge, only to cut him off again. Rinse and repeat.
Even when the kid’s pace stutters and hot, sticky come floods into Midnighter’s well-worn passage, Joey doesn’t stop torturing him.
It’s at least three minutes after blondie finishes when he finally jerks M to completion. Keeps pumping Midnighter’s dick even as it goes soft, getting it slick with his own release.
Then Joey raises his dirty hand to M’s lips and the older man dutifully sucks each finger clean and licks the palm.
“That was fun,” Joey says, dragging his hands over the rounded swell of Midnighter’s ass like he’s wondering what else they can do.
“Yeah. I already know you’re gunning for second date, kid.”
“Mmmm. I am. Not a lot of people who don’t mind me using my powers.”
Midnighter snorts. Still hasn’t bothered to move from where he’s bent over. The gentle movement of the hands against his skin feels nice. “I don’t doubt that.”
Then Joey’s laying over the top of him again, arms wrapped around his waist and holy shit, kids these days, don’t need any rest at all. M doesn’t either of course, but other than the demonic possession, he’s pretty sure blondie is a normal 20-something.
The kid’s fingers are tracing over his abs, move up to tug on one of the piercings in his nipples.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice these,” he says. Then lower, huskier, “You know that leather thing you have going on gave me some fun ideas. If you’re up for it, old man.”
He knows the brat is goading him.
But he’s pretty sure he’s physically incapable of passing on an offer like that.