“You should just let me fuck you,” Conner proposes finally, their bodies stilling for only a moment as he takes in the male’s sweat-slicked frame. Trapping the male’s arms overhead, Conner moves down his body, away from swollen lips and harsh breathes to a place where he can once more leave his mark. Although his hands do leave, the binding does not. See, within his cache of abilities exists a tactile telekinesis, one that currently had it’s tendrils winding up the man’s body. The brunt of it snakes around thick wrists, tying them together, and his focus maintains on the man’s strain. Tongue running over a bicep, saltiness pooling on his tongue, those crystal-blue Kryptonian orbs observe the male’s struggle, smirking when he opts to take a lighter taste, his touch more akin to a feather than the bullish presence it had mirrored prior.
Hand firm against Jason’s swollen length, Conner keeps his contact firm and omnipresent, digits splayed flat against his groin. He’s made his way to the former Robin’s chest, pert nipples each enjoying a hastened tease. It’s when he’s finished mirroring his attention to one side of the body to the other. Conner pulls back up, hand tugging firm on his jaw, wrenching his mouth open to kiss him quite violently. Although he doesn’t split a lip, their teeth clash, and it’s ten varieties of desperation rolled into once. “Just let me fuck you,” he practically wines, hips slotting together and resuming that grind against him once more.
It was easy to forget when he’s not at all up in arms and on his full guard—Conner was special beyond his strength. Jason was just meant to take it. No. He wasn’t in the water. He’s not under the rubble either. He’s done this before. And Conner was making it easier to forget. In sparks. In marks. In the way his lips grazed against the heft of his form. That where teeth tugged at a nub, Jason just let his head fall back in a firm tug, mouth slack in some silent moan as his thrill rode through his own struggle to just breathe. No. Conner tasted him more. Jason sighed. And all that there was are the sensations that rushed in with the stale blanket of the night air. A tug against his throb and his gasps came louder. Rougher. His fists clenched right down to his biceps, and where his sure smirk once was, it was just all pleasure in paints of fluster --------- and all at once, it was just all Conner; in its warm cloy. Soft lips. Hard demand. Harder below.
How a chuckle managed to forced itself through swell and the drowning inhale as Jason tried to take the kiss was almost a blur in his mind. But Conner was making things too clear at least. Conner’s squeeze, Jason’s rut. Though with how Conner was practically prying his cheeks apart with every knead, he growled on as his warm breath came ragged against the other’s kiss. Jason gripped their cock’s then—tried to. But at least it was enough of a press to make Conner feel how hard he is against his own—especially with how their lengths slid on with another rut. “—aw, too hard and too frustrated? Want a tight squeeze?” Jason taunted—words closing with a grunt as he felt the knot inside him tighten with how their bodies just pressed close and flush. Sweaty. Warm.
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