Chapter Text
Hal hadn’t been sure if Bruce had seen his peep show, but five minutes after he finished, he got a text:
Bruce: Watchtower, tomorrow, 4:00 p.m. EST, my room.
Leave it to Bruce to make a booty call sound like a classified Cold War radio transmission. He’s almost surprised Bruce hadn’t encrypted the message with some sort of cipher.
Anyways, when Hal said, “See you at the Watchtower,” he had meant, like, whenever Bruce was healed and ready to return to the Watchtower as Batman. He had not meant that Bruce should ignore his injuries and meet him at the Watchtower in the next 24 hours. Not that he’s complaining. He just hopes that Bruce has a sprained ankle or broken arm, and not a gunshot wound. It’s probably a gunshot wound, though.
So, Hal spends the rest of his day consumed by a horrifying cocktail of emotions, half nervous and half aroused. He is having a very difficult time getting anything done because every time he thinks about the fact that he had webcam sex with fucking Batman, or how Bruce is probably going to fuck his brains out (or let Hal fuck his brains out) in the Watchtower, where any of their friends and coworkers could overhear, he immediately grabs a toy from his room and jerks off. He doesn’t think he’s ever masturbated this many times in a single day.
He passes out at around midnight, completely nude on top of his blankets. He will never admit it's partly because he wants Bruce to see him naked and fucked out.
He wakes up at seven the next morning to a text from Barry asking to hang out. He, of course, agrees, and they meet up in Central City. They hang out at Barry’s place, per Hal’s request. It’s normal for them to alternate whose place they go to and Barry doesn’t ask any questions, which Hal is glad for, because there is no way he’s explaining that he cannot be in his apartment without thinking about how he fucked himself with a dildo for Bruce Wayne’s entertainment. So he goes to Barry’s place.
They dick around for a couple of hours, playing video games and eating some leftovers Barry had in his fridge. Barry absolutely demolishes Hal in Mortal Kombat, which is humiliating, but Barry always plays as Mileena so Hal gets the pleasure of watching a hot chick with dangerously sharp teeth rip him apart for a full two hours, so he can’t complain.
An hour before he's supposed to meet Bruce, he off-handedly mentions to Barry that he has to be at the Watchtower soon.
“Why? We don’t have a meeting, do we?” Barry isn’t even looking at the screen now, he’s just button-mashing and is still beating Hal.
“Nah, Spooky wants to talk about something,” Hal gets hit with three combo attacks in a row. In his peripheral vision, he can see Barry’s eyebrows furrow. Hal spares a look at his friend before returning his attention to the screen. “What?”
Barry shrugs and looks back at the screen. “Nothing. It’s just… weird that you’re going to the Watchtower just because Batman asked you to. I mean, it’s weird for you to do anything just because Batman asks you to.”
Hal makes a noncommittal noise.
“We’ve been working a case together, involving alien tech and general Gotham insanity, and we wanna wrap it up as soon as possible,” He’s not technically lying, he and Bruce are working a case together that involves alien tech and Gotham being Gotham, but he sees no reason to mention to Barry the exact reason why they’re meeting up today.
==========
Barry, luckily, takes his answer at face value and they proceed to laze around until Hal leaves, getting there about 20 minutes early. Hal heads to the Watchtower locker rooms to shower and make sure he looks decent enough to fuck Bruce Wayne, who’s famous for being extremely rich and having sex with very attractive people. Not that Bruce seems to have any problem with how Hal looks, but it’s the principle of the thing.
Hal must’ve lost track of time because as he’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair, he feels someone watching him. He’d be wigged out if he didn’t know who it was.
Bruce is leaning against the lockers, not making any attempt to hide how he’s leering at Hal, his eyes drifting up and down his body. He’s wearing a plain black sweater and slacks. Hal wants to squirm under the attention, but he’s the goddamn Green Lantern and he’s never let Batman’s intimidation tactics get to him before. He steels himself and shoots a half-smile Bruce’s way.
“Enjoying the view?”
Bruce cocks his head to the side. “Very much so.”
He tries to not let Bruce's honesty knock him off balance.
“You gonna join me or do you just wanna watch?” Hal leers at him, adding, “Although, you do seem to like just watching.”
He half expects Bruce to just walk out at the insult. Except it’s not an insult and they both know it. Hal is just stating a fact. Bruce pushes off the locker and starts the process of removing his clothes.
Bruce eventually extricates himself, leaving himself completely bare.
Bruce is already semi-hard, his cock flushed and starting to drip. Hal immediately wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and get his mouth on Bruce. It would leave him completely without dignity, kneeling in front of Batman just to suck him off, but it would be worth it.
Bruce’s skin is, unsurprisingly, covered in battle scars. Hal knows with the life Bruce leads, it’d be impossible for him to be unmarred, but it still throws him for a loop every time he sees Bruce’s skin because of just how much of his skin is scar tissue. He’s covered in decade-old stab wounds, bullet wounds, a gash across his neck that makes it seem like someone tried to slit it at one point. He also has severe bruising all over his legs and torso.
Hal has yet to see the injury that got him benched by Alfred, which leads him to believe it’s internal - a broken rib or collapsed lung. Something that would be serious to literally any other human on the planet but something that Batman considers a minor inconvenience.
Bruce had once confided in Hal, in an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability for the both of them, that he wasn’t insecure about his scars, but he thought that they made him objectively less desirable. Hal had thought that was complete bullshit and, now that he’s faced with a naked Bruce, he has to stand by his previous statement. Bruce is insanely hot and the beaten-up, weathered look only enhances the effect.
Bruce stalks toward him and Hal turns to face him. Bruce wraps his arms around Hal’s waist as soon as he’s close enough, pulling them both under the stream of lukewarm water. The feeling of Bruce’s rapidly hardening cock against his thigh is definitely doing it for him. Hal brings his hands up to Bruce’s chest, exploring with deft fingers. He circles Bruce’s nipples lightly, cataloging the sharp intake of breath from Bruce, cataloging it for later.
“So, I take it you enjoyed the show?” Hal says, because Bruce isn’t saying anything and he wants to break the silence. Bruce makes a low humming noise in his throat.
“I did. Although, I want it on record that I didn’t know about my voyeuristic inclinations until you brought them out in me.”
Hal snorts. “You - the guy who probably has the fucking Oval Office bugged - didn’t know you had a thing for voyeurism? Thought you were supposed to be the world’s greatest detective.” Hal says the title with an exaggerated Gotham accent, grinning when it gets a small huff of exasperation from Bruce.
Up close, Hal can see Bruce’s age. They’re both on the late side of their forties, Hal being a few years younger, but he always forgets that Bruce is human and ages just like everyone else. It’s obvious now, with the frown lines around his mouth and gray hair scattered through the black. Hal thinks it makes him look distinguished but he’d probably get punched if he said that out loud.
Bruce tips Hal’s head up, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”
Hal nods and Bruce presses their lips together. The effect is immediate, both of them now zeroed in on the task at hand. Bruce bites down on Hal’s lower lip and Hal groans. He seriously hopes Bruce had the foresight to make sure Clark isn’t on the Watchtower right now because if he is, there’s no way he won’t hear everything they’re doing.
Bruce’s hands drift lower, groping Hal’s ass. Hal groans and brings his arms up to wrap around Bruce’s neck.
Bruce is insanely good at kissing, which pisses Hal off to no end. It’s always annoying when people you can’t stand are good at things.
Hal feels himself sway on his feet and Bruce holds him up effortlessly; an impressive feat, considering Hal is not a small man.
Bruce pulls back, ignoring how Hal leans in to try and recapture his lips.
“I think we should head to my quarters.”
Hal nods, knowing there’s a good chance his legs will give out if they try to go any farther in the shower.
They both decide to just wrap towels around their waists, seeing as the only other people in the Watchtower are on monitor duty. They quickly make their way to Bruce’s room, which is just as cold and impersonal as Hal expects it to be.
To Bruce’s credit, none of the rooms on the Watchtower scream “personal”. Nobody but J’onn and maybe Victor actually live out of their rooms for extended periods. Hal would bet that Clark probably has a picture of his parents or something in his room, but that’s about as much decoration as anyone is doing.
Barry always had some files from work spread out on his bed, Diana kept a few changes of clothes in her closet, and Hal had replaced the ugly wool blanket with a knockoff green lantern duvet he had found at a Goodwill. It was hideous and he immediately knew he had to buy it when he saw it but there was no way he was putting it in his apartment, so he decided his room on the Watchtower was the next best thing.
Bruce has absolutely nothing in his room. It doesn’t look like he’s ever used it.
And then Bruce lets his towel drop and Hal completely forgets about the state of his room.
Bruce’s erection had flagged slightly on the way there, and that just wouldn’t do. Hal drops his towel and walks up to Bruce, who’s standing still as a statue. His breathing is slightly faster than usual, but that's the only tell that he’s at all affected. Hal wants to take him apart, wants him to completely lose control. He wonders what sounds Bruce makes when he cums, if he’s quiet and reserved, or if he’s too far gone to control the noises he’s making.
Hal traces a hand down Bruce’s body, stopping right at the base of his cock.
“How do you wanna do this?” Hal asks.
Bruce thrusts gently into Hal’s hand. He leans his forehead against Hal’s. “I want you to do whatever you want.”
Hal can work with that.
Hal leans forward and presses a biting kiss to Bruce’s lips, nipping at the skin there. Bruce doesn’t protest, so Hal doesn’t apologize. He pulls back just far enough that their lips are barely touching.
“Lay down on the bed,” He tells Bruce. He’s testing the waters, seeing how willing Bruce is to blindly obey him in this situation. Normally, Bruce would never do anything just because Hal told him to. He might even avoid doing it out of spite, although he’d never admit that was why he was avoiding it. So Hal is thrilled when Bruce wordlessly gets onto the bed and lays down, gaze never leaving Hal’s face.
Hal climbs onto the bed and settles in between Bruce’s legs, pushing his thighs apart as far as they go. He traces a hand down to Bruce’s hole, massaging it gently with his finger. Bruce gives an almost imperceptible shudder.
“Any chance you have lube in here?” Hal asks, as a joke, but then Bruce reaches over to the nightstand drawer and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of lube and condoms because, of course, those would be the only things he has in his room.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Hal says as he pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He doesn’t have any of his toys to fuck Bruce with, but he does have his ring, which is arguably better. He also plans on making Bruce come as many times as possible and at least one of those times would be just from his fingers.
“Always prepared,” Bruce quips, tilting his head back against the pillow as Hal presses gently at his hole.
Hal starts thrusting his index finger gently in and out, savoring all of the little noises Bruce is making. Hal isn’t even sure that he’s aware that he’s making any noises at all. His eyes are clenched shut and his hands are fisted into the sheets. His legs start to slip down the bed from where Hal had put them, so Hal removes his finger and pushes Bruce’s legs up against his chest.
“Hold them there.”
The look Bruce sends him at the command makes heat pool in Hal’s stomach. Bruce’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Hal with hooded lids. He removes his hands from where they’d been tearing at the sheets and moves them under his knees, holding his legs up and apart. Hal barely represses a shudder at the sight.
Hal returns with two fingers this time, the stretch more noticeable. He starts to scissor Bruce open, listening for any pained noises to let him know if he’s going too fast. After a while, hearing no complaints from Bruce, he works up to three fingers, and then four.
As he adds more fingers, Bruce becomes more and more unwound. His breathing becomes more ragged, his hips canting down in an attempt to fuck himself on Hal’s fingers, pitiful whines spilling out of his mouth seemingly against his will. It's a beautiful sight, and Hal is happy to savor it, but he can tell Bruce’s patience is wearing thin. One of Bruce’s hands drops between his legs in an attempt to jerk himself off. Before he can even get a hand on himself, a glowing green rope wraps around his wrist and yanks his hand away. Bruce grunts in frustration.
Hal removes his fingers, a pulsing heat between his thighs at the whine Bruce lets out. “What did I say?”
Bruce’s face is flushed, whether from arousal or embarrassment, Hal isn’t sure. He turns his head to the side, attempting to hide from Hal’s gaze. Hal grips his chin and forces Bruce to meet his eyes.
“I ask you a question, you answer with your words,” Hal whispers, slow and condescending. “What. Did. I. Say?”
He can tell he’s pushing Bruce out of his comfort zone. Bruce submitting to someone else’s will was almost impossible for him in the best of circumstances, and now he was naked, vulnerable, and fucked out. Hal can see the struggle going on in his mind playing out on his face, so he just waits patiently for Bruce to find his words.
“Hold my legs up,” Bruce murmurs, eyes falling shut again. Hal allows it, knowing Bruce is trying.
“And why didn’t you listen?” Hal leans in close to Bruce’s ear, breath ghosting across his skin. Bruce shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin.
“I - I wanted to cum,” Bruce forces out. Hal hums, hand tracing its way down Bruce’s neck to his chest.
“That’s all? If you wanted to cum, all you had to do was ask,” Hal says, voice falsely saccharine. He pulls away, taking in Bruce’s face. The dazed look on his face, the way he’s looking at Hal like he holds Bruce’s fate in his hands. It makes Hal want to be mean. “You can cum whenever you want, you just can’t touch your cock.”
He revels in the confused, bleary look on Bruce’s face.
“I can’t -,” Bruce starts, but Hal cuts him off.
“You can. You are going to cum on my fingers or not at all,” Hal’s voice is firm, unwavering. Bruce looks mildly terrified. It’s a good look on him. This is going to be fun.
Bruce’s hands find their way behind his knees again, spreading his legs for Hal. Hal’s hand trails down to find its place in between Bruce’s legs. Without warning, he shoves four fingers back into Bruce, who lets out a strangled yell. Hal rubs his free hand up and down Bruce’s thigh.
“If you need me to stop, you tell me,” Hal says, waiting until Bruce nods to move his hand.
He fucks Bruce with his fingers like he would with a strap, fast and brutal. Bruce is falling apart underneath him, sweat dripping down his face and chest, cock hard and leaking precome all over his stomach, gorgeous moans, and whines forcing their way out of his throat seemingly without his permission.
“Please,” Bruce gasps, making Hal falter for just a moment. He didn’t expect Bruce to start begging so soon. Hal thought he’d have to be much deeper into this submissive headspace before he’d start begging. He doesn’t know what Bruce is begging for, and it doesn’t matter, it affects Hal all the same. Hal curses and shoves his free hand between his own legs, needing to touch himself. He keeps his touch on himself light, not wanting to cum yet and wanting to keep his focus on Bruce’s pleasure.
Bruce looks down his body at Hal, and, apparently, the combination of being fingered at a mind-numbing pace and seeing Hal get off to ruining him was enough to push him over the edge. He groans as his cock jerks, cum shooting onto his stomach and chest as he comes untouched. Hal keeps going, fingers working him through his first orgasm, not stopping until Bruce is writhing in overstimulation.
Hal removes his fingers, cursing as Bruce clenches down when he tries to pull them out. He would gladly spend hours fucking Bruce with his fingers, but he has other plans.
Bruce is completely lax against the bed, no longer able to hold the position he’s been in. He’s breathing heavily, eyes not leaving Hal.
“You sound good when you beg, sweetheart,” Hal mutters off-handedly. Bruce makes a low noise at the pet name, hand going to cover his face in embarrassment. It’s adorable, really.
Hal drags his hand through the mess on Bruce's stomach, collecting some of Bruce’s spend on his fingers, bringing them up to Bruce’s lips, and pushing them into his mouth. Bruce doesn’t resist, too deep into that fuzzy headspace. He just licks and sucks at Hal’s fingers, cleaning his spend from Hal’s hand.
“Good boy,” Hal praises, grinning at the way Bruce’s breath hitches. He taps Bruce lightly on the cheek, bringing his awareness back to Hal.
“Hope you didn’t think we were done. You’re not gonna be able to remember your name by the time we’re through,” Hal promises, placing a gentle kiss on Bruce’s lips. Bruce groans, winding his arms around Hal’s neck, keeping him close. Hal pulls away after a moment, Bruce’s arms falling back to the bed.
“You wanna keep going?” Hal asks seriously. Bruce nods fervently, and as much as Hal loves to see him this eager, he needs verbal confirmation. “Use your words.”
Bruce is so far gone that words are hard to form. Hal knows the feeling. Eventually, Bruce is able to force the words out. “Want to keep going.”
His voice is wrecked, cracking on nearly every word. Hal wants him to sound like that all the time.
As soon as he gets verbal consent, he snaps back into his dominant persona. “Good. I was being nice this time. If you want to come again, you have to earn it.”
He climbs up Bruce’s body, adjusting so Bruce is completely flat on the bed, with no pillows under his head. Hal positions himself so he’s straddling Bruce’s face.
“If you need me to move, tap me anywhere twice,” Hal says. Bruce nods and Hal has him do it once to make sure he understands. Bruce grabs onto Hal’s thighs, then, slowly lowers himself onto Bruce’s mouth.
Immediately, Bruce’s tongue is working its way between his folds. Hal was already dripping and Bruce’s mouth on him is just adding to it.
Bruce licks a stripe from his entrance up to his clit and Hal lets his head fall back, eyes sliding shut. Bruce laves over him with his tongue, keeping things gentle as he slowly works up a rhythm that has Hal’s thighs shaking. He eventually moves his focus to Hal’s clit, licking and sucking gently. One of Bruce’s hands leaves his thigh and finds its way in between Hal’s legs. Hal chokes on a moan when he feels Bruce’s fingers rub lightly at his entrance. Two of Bruce’s fingers slip inside of him as he sucks on Hal’s clit. Hal can’t help how he grinds into his face, and, from the sounds he’s making, Bruce doesn’t mind.
It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to build in his gut, slowly building and building until he’s grinding into Bruce’s mouth with a shout, muscles locking up and body shaking slightly. Bruce just groans and keeps up his ministrations until Hal pulls away, moving so he’s straddling Bruce’s hips instead of his face. He notices Bruce’s cock is half-hard already. He’s surprised Bruce can get it up this quickly after already coming once. Hal wonders how many times he’d have to wring an orgasm out of him until he's completely spent.
Bruce’s mouth is slick and shining and Hal wants to lick it off of him. He realizes that nothing is stopping him from doing exactly that, so he leans in and starts licking at Bruce’s lips. Bruce sighs, seemingly content to let Hal do whatever he pleases with him. The thought stokes the fires of arousal in Hal yet again.
He pulls back, admiring how fucked out and ruined Bruce looks. He wants to take a picture but he figures they aren’t there yet regarding levels of trust. That’s fine, the sight will be burned into Hal’s mind until the day he dies.
“Think you have one more in you, big guy?” Hal asks sincerely, ready to call it if Bruce wants to be done. To his delight, Bruce presses a light kiss on his lips and agrees readily.
“Please fuck me.”
And how the hell is Hal supposed to say no to that?
Hal quickly creates a construct with the ring, looking up to see Bruce with a small smile.
“Seems like you’ve done this before.”
Hal chuckles. “Not as often as I’d like. Count yourself lucky, you have no idea how many people all over the universe have this exact fantasy of a Lantern using the ring on them for this.”
Bruce hums, “I believe it.”
Bruce is a bit more lucid now that Hal is giving him a breather, so Hal decides to take advantage of that to do some actual kink negotiation, which they had done none of up to this point. He finds that Bruce doesn’t like to be blindfolded, but he does enjoy pain to an extent. He’s cagey about what he wants and he’s even worse about actually asking for it, but Hal’s going to fix that eventually.
One of the other benefits of using the ring is that it’s fully customizable. Bruce, as it turns out, is a bit of a size queen.
“There is no way this is gonna fit inside you,” Hal says, looking incredulously at the absurdly sized cock Bruce requested. It's roughly the length and girth of Hal’s forearm and it looks especially ridiculous where it's protruding from Hal’s groin. “I might as well just shove my arm into you.”
Bruce shrugs, eyes much clearer now. “I’m not opposed to that.”
Hal ignores him. He may be able to string together sentences now, but Bruce is still thinking with his dick rather than his brain. Hal isn’t opposed to the idea either, but he’ll discuss that with Bruce once he’s fully coaxed the other man out of subspace.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Hal says, bringing the cock down to a meager 7 inches. He continues to ignore Bruce, who gives a disappointed grunt at the action. “I’ll fuck you with something less insane that won’t have you limping around Gotham for a week, and in return, I’ll tell you what I was thinking about during my peepshow last night.”
Bruce’s eyes immediately take on that glazed-over look they’d had when Hal was prepping him.
“Fuck, please,” Bruce breathes, his chest starting to move faster and faster with his rapid breathing. Hal is, yet again, astounded that Bruce didn’t know he had a thing for voyeurism until the night before. Even just remembering how he watched Hal is causing him to sink back into subspace without even realizing he’s doing it.
Hal slicks up the construct, which is strange despite the fact he’s done it before. It’s completely translucent, but it feels just like a real cock would, causing some weird sense of vertigo. He pushes the thought aside because he has more important things to worry about. Namely, the fact that Bruce Wayne is strewn across a bed in front of him with his legs wide open, begging Hal to tell him his private fantasies. Many bad things could be said about Hal, but he has his priorities in order.
He pushes into Bruce quicker than he would normally, knowing Bruce enjoys the burn that comes from his partners bottoming out too quickly. When his hips press against Bruce’s, they both stay there for a moment, panting. Hal can’t feel what the construct feels, but the act of actually fucking Bruce is more than enough to get him going. He can’t help but look down at where they’re connected, Bruce stretched out around him. Hal wishes he could come inside Bruce if just to see how full he could make him, to watch his spend slowly dribble out of Bruce’s abused hole. Maybe he can convince Bruce to let Clark join at some point. He wonders if Bruce could take two cocks at the same time. A thought for another day.
He starts to thrust, deep but slow. It’s an infuriating pace and Bruce is not a patient man when he’s so strung out, Hal quickly learns.
“Faster,” Bruce outright whines after a full minute of Hal slowly rocking into Bruce, brushing against his prostate every time but not giving him what he needs.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Hal purrs into his ear, reveling in how Bruce melts into the mattress at the name. “I gotta make it last, or else you’re not gonna hear about everything I thought about doing to you last night.”
Bruce’s breath catches in his chest at that. Hal grins, knowing Bruce can feel it against his ear.
He picks up his pace slightly, still tortuously slow. “When I was fingering myself, all I could think about was how you were alone, watching me. It made me feel filthy.” Hal let his tongue flick across the shell of Bruce’s ear. “Made me feel like I only existed as entertainment for you.”
Hal moves down to Bruce’s neck and bites down, sucking a mark into his skin. “And I liked it.”
Bruce is writhing beneath him now, sweat coating his skin as Hal starts thrusting faster.
“I imagined dressing you up a bit. Think you’d look real good in a dog collar.”
Bruce let out a small whimper at that. Hal laughed, cold and mean.
“You like that? You’d let me collar you? Would you just keep it on while I’m fucking you or would you wear it where other people could see?” Hal asks. He’s not expecting an answer, so he doesn’t chastise Bruce for not giving him one. He sees a familiar red starting to show around Bruce’s eyes. It makes that part of Hal that wants to be mean glow with pride. He decides right then that he won’t be satisfied until Bruce is crying on his cock.
“I could lead you around on a leash, I bet you’d like that. Bet I could lead you around the Watchtower and no one would be surprised. It’s obvious, the way you look at Clark when he’s being all commanding or Diana when she’s barking orders at you. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve needed this for a while. I’m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry. Gonna teach you just how much of a slut you can be.”
Bruce is making punched-out little ‘ah’ sounds at every thrust now, tears starting to well up in his eyes. Hal doesn’t know if it’s from the cock fucking him or the words, but he’s at his breaking point and Hal can’t wait to push him over the edge.
Hal brings one of his hands up to tweak Bruce’s nipple hard. Bruce’s cock jerks against his stomach, fully hard now. Tears finally start to track down his cheeks, eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Hal starts fucking into him with abandon now, grinding mercilessly into his prostate in a way that has to be painful. Hal bites into where Bruce’s neck meets his shoulder so hard that he almost draws blood. Bruce simply moans and tilts his head to the side to give Hal more room, an unspoken sign of submission that’s making Hal feel drunk.
“ Fuck, you were made for this, weren’t you? You like to pretend that the playboy thing is just an act, but I think you love when people whisper about how you spend more time on your knees than in your office,” Hal moves to the other nipple, giving it the same harsh treatment. Bruce doesn’t seem to know whether he should shy away from the contact or push into it. The tears are flowing freely now, Bruce seemingly uncaring about the fact that he would never cry in front of Hal in any other context.
“That’s what I thought about while I was fucking myself. Imagined you on your knees for some douchebag corporate prick who you’d never associate with in a million years, but as soon as he gives you a command, you can’t help but let him use your mouth as a convenient hole to fuck.”
Bruce lets out an actual sob at that. Hal wants to stop for a moment to make sure he isn’t pushing Bruce too hard, but then Bruce chokes out, “Please, Hal, I need it, please let me come.”
Hal almost comes himself, despite how little stimulation he’s getting out of this, just from Bruce’s words alone.
“Fuck, princess, you ask like that and I’ll give you whatever you want,” Hal gasps. He knows it’s dangerous to call such a volatile and ‘macho’ man something so condescending and feminizing, but he has a gut feeling that he won’t get knocked out for the remark. He’s proven correct when Bruce just clenches around the construct and comes untouched a second time while moaning Hal’s name. There are only a few drops of come beading across his head and onto his stomach. But the rest of him goes completely taut and he finally lets his hands drop from where they’d been holding his knees so he can grab Hal by the back of the neck and bring him into a bruising kiss. Hal gives as good as he gets, fucking into Bruce until he’s being pushed away, Bruce too overstimulated to keep going.
They stay there, leaning into each other, breathing each other’s air for an indeterminable amount of time. Eventually, Hal wills the construct away, laughing at Bruce’s disappointed noise.
“I think you’re stretched out enough as it is, princess,” Hal jokes, wanting to see how Bruce reacts to the name when he’s not in the heat of the moment. He’s treated to Bruce groaning and shoving Hal off of him. Hal just keeps laughing.
They settle beside each other, facing the other on their side. Bruce isn’t completely pulled out of subspace yet and Hal is not leaving his side until he’s sure Bruce is lucid again. He isn’t sure how long that’ll take, and he doesn’t particularly care.
Hal starts running his hand through Bruce’s hair, making a pleased hum when Bruce lets his eyes close and leans into the contact. Hal knows Bruce won’t let him do this unless it’s in the afterglow. That’s fine. Bruce isn’t the only one between the two of them who has a hard time accepting affection. Hal’s going to make sure to coddle him as much as possible while Bruce is allowing it.
After about 10 minutes of silence, Hal assumes Bruce fell asleep and he plans on cleaning Bruce up, getting dressed, and heading back to Coast City. He’s fully prepared to leave the possibility of a second time in Bruce’s hands. If Bruce wants it again, he can let Hal know, if not, then they move on.
Just as he’s getting up, Bruce’s hand grabs his wrist and tugs him back down. Hal makes an inquisitive noise.
Bruce doesn’t open his eyes, just grumbles out, “Stay.”
Hal can’t help but smile. He isn’t sure if this is going to be a regular thing or if Bruce just needs the contact after an intense session, but either way, he’s not about to deny the man his wish. They should also definitely clean themselves up before sleeping, but Hal isn’t even going to try and move Bruce from the bed anytime soon.
“Alright.”
Bruce grunts in affirmation, seemingly sated with that answer. Hal wraps an arm around him, tugging so Bruce is tucked against his chest.
"So, is there a chance that we could do this with Clark at some poi-" Hal's question is cut short by a pillow being shoved over his face. He snorts and moves the pillow away, coaxing Bruce to settle.
He still has questions about what this means, but he can’t find it within himself to care. He just lets himself bask in Bruce’s warmth and slowly drifts into an abnormally peaceful sleep.