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Jason goes down on his knees with nothing more than a firm hand to his shoulder. The cowl shows Dick the way his heart rate spikes from that alone. Around them, Gotham churns in the ever-swelling current of the night. Police sirens in the distance. Stray dogs barking. Rats scuffling through the putrid alley refuse. For the moment, though, they ignore the thrum of urban life.
"Take it off, Jaybird," Dick says, voice low and course. The way his would sound. The nickname, of course, is all Dick. Old habits. Slowly, Jason reaches up and pulls off the red helmet, setting it on the ground at his knees. Red domino underneath. He knew it would be there, but is still disappointed. There are a myriad of reasons why it has to stay on, but Dick would love to see those pretty blue-green eyes blinking up at him from his knees.
Even in the low light, Dick can see the dust of pink over his cheek bones. His pulse jumps even higher when Dick lays a tender hand against his cheek, stroking over the flush with a gauntleted thumb. Another disappointment, not getting to feel the warm, soft/scarred skin under his fingertips.
Holding back a sigh, Dick cards his fingers through Jason's hair, the little white swoosh tumbling over his forehead. "Always so pretty for me on your knees."
"Shut up," Jason grumbles, but there's less heat in it than he might otherwise expect. "Can we just get on with this?" Like it wasn't him always coming to Dick for this.
But Dick is nothing if not agreeable. Leaving his hand as a steady pressure atop Jason's head, he pulls himself out of the suit with the other. No small task with the armored pieces covering the sensitive bits. Cold air bites at the exposed skin.
Jason's tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. One hand braces against Dick's thigh, kneading the muscle through the reinforced fabric. The other wraps around his half-hard shaft and strokes slowly. Warm against the cold. Under practiced fingers, Dick stiffens quickly, swelling to his full length. Idle, he runs his thumb over the cute little crease that forms between his brows, knitted in concentration. Like getting Dick hard and ready is a matter of great importance and delicacy.
Without waiting for Dick to extend and invitation, Jason's head dips forward and he laps at his leaking slit. Head tilts back just the slightest bit, the only indication he will get that Jason is looking up at him. Dick keeps his face neutral. Shows neither pleasure or displeasure. Jason groans.
His tongue runs up the underside of his shaft, firm along the bulging vein that travels up the length. Cold air hits the trail of saliva left behind, and Dick barely holds back a shudder. It wouldn't be a deal-breaker, but he knows it would dull something in Jason, whatever part of him craves this little illusion he's built in his head.
Never one for teasing long, Jason's lips wrap around him and takes him to the base. Fuck. His mouth is hot and wet. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, bobbing his head with slow, measured efficiency. It's all Dick can do not to buck his hips a little, softly feed himself into Jason's pliant mouth. Instead, he stays still as a statue. Hand a steady anchor in Jason's hair. Looks down at him in cool observation.
Playing a part.
He can't imagine — and not for lack of trying — what must truly be going through Jason's head in these little moments between them. Or maybe he just prefers to keep himself willfully ignorant because that's easier, and nothing else about this is easy. He never lets Dick touch him out of the suits (and he's offered). He never lets Dick reciprocate (and he's offered).
Jason's head bobs faster around him, little groans and moans reverberating up his shaft. Dick can feel the tight, white-hot coils in his core tighten. With a groan of his own — the only break in this little game that is acceptable — and a minute tightening of gauntleted fingers in Jason's hair, he spills in the back of Jason's throat and pulls out abruptly.
A thread of saliva connects them. Snaps. Jason's head tips back. Masked eyes meeting. And he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. Dick's eyes track lower down, where he palms himself with one hand. "Do you want to get off, Jaybird?" he says softly.
The smallest nod.
Dick shifts his stance, one leg extending toward Jason. His shin presses between Jason's legs, feeling the hard bulge there. "Go on, then."
His hands wind around Dick's thick calf, head falling to rest his forehead against a muscular thigh… and Jason starts bucking his hips against Dick's leg. Furious little jerks, choked back little groans. It's the only pleasure Jason ever allows Dick to give him. Never with his mouth or his hands. Just humping his leg like a mutt.
Dick cups his jaw, as soft a touch as the gauntlets allow, and tips his head up to look at him while he does it. Jason looks wrecked, a beat of sweat dripping down his temple despite the cold of the night. Dick keeps his face stern and unimpressed. It doesn't take long. Jason's body stiffens, and he gasps, low and broken. Then falls still. Still looking up at Dick's cowled face like he might find answers answers to all the unvoiced questions underneath the mask.
Except the answer to those questions is dead, and the wrong man looks down at Jason wearing his face.
Slowly, Jason lets his heart rate settle and pushes himself to his feet. Dick's hand falls away from his face reluctantly. He tucks himself away again, tries to pretend he doesn't see Jason's legs tremble. It must be uncomfortable, having cum in his suit. He'll probably return home for the night, get cleaned up. Do whatever else Jason does when they do this.
It's none of Dick's business really.
Jason pulls out his grapnel.
He has to try anyway. "Hey, Jaybird…" His voice loses the gravel, now that the moment is over. Jason turns back to him, slotting his red helmet over his head. Hiding the flush of his cheeks and the shame on his face. "You know… you can stop by the manor whenever." Jason doesn't move. Doesn't speak. "If you wanted to… talk."
"Thanks," Jason snorts, aiming his grapnel, "but no thanks." Dick sighs. "See you around, Batman." With a thwish of the line, Jason streaks off into the dark. Leaving Dick with the same answer as always. Expected. Disappointing.