It starts off with a show of teeth, two sets of porcelain white rows gleaming between the curl of lips.
The metal zipper catches and Jason makes a show of pulling it down slowly, breath warm and the tip of his nose nudging against the stark black of Bruce’s cotton briefs. The quiet groan that he feels more than hears is ignored for the small opportunity to tease. Whether or not the older man will appreciate the usage of time, well—
“Jason.”
And doesn’t that just answer the question quite nicely? Jason only makes an unimpressed sound by Bruce’s impatience, fingers digging against the black of the man’s suit pants. The expensive fabric only yields so much but it’s all Jason needs. It grounds him in, just as much as the scent of sweat and the hearty musk hardly covered by Bruce’s usual cologne before him does. With the zipper down, it makes it easy to part the slip and press his mouth against Bruce’s groin. He laps at it, tongue sliding in wetly —feeling, no, tasting the energetic twitch underneath cotton— between the zipper to become flat hot pressure.
There’s no sound, no guttural groan for him but the hand that crawls down to rest against the back of his neck, fingers cupping gingerly as if their owner was afraid Jason is going to be fragile at such a time, is just as much praise for him as words. When Jason starts pulling down Bruce’s pants, thumbs catching against the belt loopholes and tugging, with his mouth ready and lips already sucking leisurely against the curve of what he knows is Bruce’s tip, the fingers tightened.
Bruce tangles them against Jason’s hair. As Jason sucks, teeth carefully dragging down saliva soaked briefs, he wonders what the older man was thinking about. Was it how little Jason actually visited? Or how careless he had been recently, his cheek and ear still stitched up from the latest spray of bullets? Or better, how Jason had conveniently stopped dying his hair recently and how the black was bleeding out to reveal the shade of ginger he hadn’t had since he was a teen? Or—
“Jason—”
Or maybe, just maybe, the man wasn’t thinking at all. And while that is a familiar step toward their usual disaster in the making direction, maybe tonight could leave them with a different type of mess.
