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“Lest you get critical of me, you and I both know he deserved my blade.” Jason wipes the kris off on Grant’s thigh, biting his lip to keep from giggling as it slices the thick selvedge denim. “Really I’m doing him a favor. Blood letting is an old wives’ treatment for a leech.”
Grant doesn’t react to the knife’s edges. Sharp as a fine-gauge needle and cut into the flesh of his muscular thigh razor thin, it won’t so much as take a full two seconds before the wounds stitch themselves together. He allows Jason to continue rhythmically dragging it against his jeans, much more in motion to a large key scratching a particularly grating itch than an enactment of violence. He still feels the pain, of course, but the rush of oxygen squeezing into the wounds like the sting of a paper cut is not so provoking as Jason’s conduct now.
Grant merely continues to dab silver sulfide onto Jason’s lip corner with the blunt end of a q-tip. He dragged Jason into the bathroom immediately after entering his lofty penthouse and hasn’t said a word since asking Jason if he was hungry on the way here. Jason wasn’t hungry, still riding the high of watching the low lights shift on Grant’s bloodied knuckles white-gripping the steering wheel. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick his tongue over the popped veins of the mercenary’s palm. Belatedly, he ought to have said yes and made a quaint show out of demanding several different late-night spots, just to promote Grant’s chagrin further.
“You know, there’s this Thai place I’ve been wanting to check out,” Jason begins laxly, dragging the tip of the blade from the outer circumference of Grant’s thigh to where his leg stood open to accommodate Jason’s swinging knees. “A spicy Pad. Kha. Pow,” he emphasizes each syllable by tapping the kris tip against the firm front seam of the man’s jeans. Grant says nothing, but leans into it with a soft sigh, as if daring Jason to push the knife in. Jason would never be so cruel, especially not when he wants what's under those jeans.
He drags the tip up further, catching the edge of the flap. “Minced duck, freshly stir fried veggies…” he shimmies the tip underneath the heavy metal fly button. “And a nice basil chili sauce. Hot, thick and sticky.” With a flick of his wrist, the button goes flying into the tiled wall behind him. It clanks against the pristine slate grey porcelain and falls with a pitched thud to the floor, rolling near the toe of Grant’s crusted tactical boot.
Grant lobs the q-tip against the lid of the nearby trashbin and watches it slide down the slit into the can. The lid for the sulfide raises up off the bathtub ledge and plops over the lip of the jar, twisting closed.
Jason snickers. “Sometimes I forget you’re psychokinetic,” he raises his hand, twirling his pointer around his left temple. “I’m like that too you know, the way you’re trying to ignore this erection.” Jason places the knife down behind him and bumps his knee into Grant’s hard crotch. The man exhales. Jason wants to nip at the flare of those nostrils. “You’re left handed like me—” he taps his pointer onto the refined tip of Grant’s nose, dragging it lightly down to the seam of the older man’s plush, wide lips. “So you tuck right.”
Grant blows air onto the pad of his finger, wrapping his large, wide palm around Jason’s slimmer wrist. “My latest assignment and two-hundred fifty dollar jeans aside, there anything else you stand to ruin tonight?”
His voice is so one-note and smooth, Jason would almost believe he was reading a grocery list aloud instead. He yanks his wrist back towards himself. It doesn’t budge. Grant loosens his hold. Jason keeps his wrist in the man’s roughened grasp.
“Two-hundred fifty is quite the steal for some custom jeans,” Jason harkens, gesturing to the button with the toe of his blood-caked Brake-Light. “Don’t have the budget for some stronger hardware?”
“My withheld check would’ve paid for a nice upgrade,” Grant releases his wrist, meeting his eyes flatly. Jason resists the urge to shiver. The stare in those silvery eyes is nothing short of stygian. The mercenary usually wears some form of opaque eyewear to avoid information overload from his years of ocular enhancements through metagenic experimentation, but he never wears them when alone with Jason.
He was not wearing them at the seedy club they left in sullen disarray, despite the flashing lights and garish mix of loud colors. Jason does not know if anyone tried to stop him from marching his way into the backrooms and finds it hard to believe anyone would have even tried. His target had cowered back from Jason at the mercenary’s approaching silhouette alone. The guards surely chose to side-step away. Jason’s eyes briefly dart back down to their dirty boots and jeans. Regardless, there would be no witnesses.
He cocks his head, tracing the wide horizontal line of Grant’s eyes from beneath his thick lashes. Eyes that are a warning of itself, but here, in the spacious bathroom, they are the promise of something burning just beneath the surface.
“I didn’t stab anything vital. Don’t tell me your client wanted a pristine corpse so you could fetch your money.” Jason waves his hand with a tut. “Send them some cute photos of the mince meat and a collection bag.”
Grant leans his upper body forward, grabbing a small bar of lifebuoy soap. He places his hands underneath the tub faucet. The cold water twists on. As the soap lathers up, Jason recalls the scent as something Alfred also used for perfunctory washing. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. Military men.
“Have a duffel I can borrow?” Grant asks, utterly monotonous.
Jason whistles. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re upset. They must’ve wanted a taxidermy.”
Grant scrubs his arms up to the elbow. “They wanted a live asset, kiddo.”
Jason frowns, caught up in raking his eyes over the vascularity of the older man’s thickly corded forearms. “You could’ve knocked him out.” His stomach butterflies up his abdomen, mind finally catching onto kiddo. He refuses to squeeze his legs together and settles for tensing and untensing his thighs, though he knows it doesn’t matter. He could move beyond the limits of physical space and still, like Zeno, Grant would splice each movement into frames per second and have every end memorized and mentally filed away before Jason could decide his following action.
The faucet twists counterclockwise, seizing at once. “It wouldn’t’ve changed the outcome.” Grant stands, looming over Jason for a bare, splendid second before he turns towards a rack of towels. Jason watches his wide back, internalizing the way the compression shirt strains over the expanse of thick muscle, fibers stretching taut.
Jason hops off the bathtub ledge, approaching Grant languidly, timing the swivel of his hips to the sway and snap of a slinky. He knows the mercenary catalogues the finest of nerve movement, regardless of what his sight is focused on.“I had no intention of killing him.”
The towel smacks harshly into the metal rack. Grant’s muscles relax, too snappish to present ease. “Neither did I.”
“And yet, you did.”
“And yet, I did.”
Jason knocks his forehead against the nape of Grant’s neck, inhaling his citrusy, musky scent. “Seems like you didn’t really want some new jean—.”
“What I didn’t want,” Grant interjects, measuredly as a coiled spring, “was you anywhere near my case.”
Jason’s stomach clenches. He wills himself to relax, for his voice to come off smoothly beyond the sudden lump in his throat. “We happened to be in the same area,” he reasons. “Thought you wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”
“Getting touched up by some wannabe Black Mask—is that your version of help?”
Jason gasps, heat exploding through his cheeks and ears. He raises his hands but they only hover over Grant’s forearms. Angry, Jason realizes baffledly. His heart thumps, beating into his guts. Grant’s mad at me.
His tongue lulls heavily behind his teeth. Surely, with the right pattern of redirections, he can avoid a total argument. Grant won’t yell. Jason has never heard him yell, not as Robin watching Ravager assist and assuage the Titans and certainly not as the cold, aloof and merciless Revenant. He worries his bottom lip, biting back a wince as the sting reignites in his bruised commissure.
Grant glances idly over his shoulder as he turns. Jason lowers his head, flipping through his mental files in search of a more appropriate response then please don’t tell me to leave. He has no real safehouses in New York anymore, not since his tried and true fallout with his brother.
Grant sighs, one hand finding the pocket of his ruined jeans, the other running through his thick bronzey blond hair. “You’ll rest here. Shower, eat. Get some sleep.” He tilts his head. “I’m not mad about some predatory low-life, Jason. Not great for my reputation, but I don’t care.”
“Then why are you mad at me?” Jason blurts, hating the way his voice wobbles. He breathes in slowly through his nose, fighting off the constriction in his vocal cords. “You’ve not spoken to me in weeks.” Then, quietly, “I only want to spend time together.”
Grant sighs again. Jason’s ears beat at the corrective tone. “I visit you personally, no need to bring work into it.”
“You never offer to go somewhere nicer.” Jason showed him photos from a nice café sometime ago, reading off the menu to see if Grant would be interested in anything despite his distaste for sweets. Rather than take the day to visit, the older man ordered delivery for every food and drink Jason wanted and refused to eat any of the confectionaries himself.
Grant shrugs one shoulder. “What’s wrong with being a homebody?”
“You’re embarrassed of me,” Jason concludes, feeling his own shoulders drop. “That why you kill your low-life asset?” he hisses. “Figures. A perfect coverup, and you don’t even have to enthrall the tabloids with some convoluted story for it.”
Grant rises to his full height. Jason’s heart sinks, anticipating the fight to come, but not knowing where the older man might strike. The scar along his throat itches. He can’t remember if the corner of his lips were bruised when he fought Nightwing or if they split open when Batman smashed his head around the concrete walls.
“Don’t compare me to him,” Grant’s voice is flat all but for the last word, which vibrates through Jason’s sternum. “He wouldn’t have the guts to kill that thing.”
“You’re making no sense,” Jason throws his hands up. “First it’s, ‘I needed him alive’. Next it’s, ‘I would have still killed him anyway’. What’s your deal?”
“My deal,” Grant clips, glare flaying Jason, “is you.”
“Yeah,” Jason agrees, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “I got that.” He lifts his left arm, wiping his face with his inner sleeve. By God, when will he learn? “I’m going to go. Goodbye, Grant.” He steps around the man, hand already reaching for the door knob when Grant encircles his wrist again, yanking him backwards.
“Don’t you dare walk away from this,” Grant grounds out. He’s straining to keep himself calm. Jason feels somewhat grateful, but knows now he shouldn’t look too far into it. It’s not for him, he just doesn’t understand what Grant’s real motives are. He never has. “You wedge your way into my assignment, when I’ve already told you to keep out and now you want to up and leave—”
“Oh, I’m the one walking away?” Jason pulls his arm, twisting and turning to wrench his wrist free. Grant’s grip tightens, completely immobilizing his efforts. He smacks his free hand into Grant’s broad chest. “You can come and go from my life as you fancy, popping up in my safehouses to pass time in this charade of a-a—” Jason curls his palm into a fist, pounding it against the man’s torso. “Must be nice for you, huh? Worldly, self-annointed mercenary who is bound to no one and moraled by nothing. It’s just another leisurely measure to mess with the stain of the hero community—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the ‘hero community’ thinks—”
Jason batters his shoulder. “Hey, at least they can be upfront about how irredeemable and unworthy I’ve always been. Why do you have to string me along? What do you even gain from this? I knew you didn’t want him dead. I deliberately went along with his gross advances so you could still make your mark!”
“Do you even realize how crazy that sounds? You let him put hands on you so I could do a job I would have easily done without your involvement?”
Jason rests his fist against Grant’s heart. “You made a choice,” he says hotly. “You made the choice to kill him.”
Grant scoffs, “Sure, I made the choice. And I don’t regret it.”
Jason snarls, frustrated. “Fuck you,” he bites out. “How dare you blame me and confuse me?”
“Damn it, I already told you I don’t care.” Grant lets go of Jason’s wrist. He stumbles, not expecting the sudden release. “Jason, please. Let’s just let this go. For the last time, I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t care,” Jason whispers, snappily. “It’s just another lost asset. Just another meaningless job to burn away the morals you don’t have and the life you don’t want to live. You’ll forget about this, and about me, in a matter of days.”
Jason lets out an involuntary grunt of pain as his bottom makes contact with the bathtub ledge again and—wait. When had he sat back down? Grant’s palms are burning, Jason can feel them radiating from where his fingers clutch the ledge. His figure brackets Jason’s body entirely. Jason wants to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the simmering, oozing heat in Grant’s glare.
Grant’s breaths come out laboriously. He’s flushing and tense as a livewire. Jason is no different, pressing his thighs together, resisting the urge to curl up and shy away.
“Forget you?” Grant sneers in his face, sweeping hot air onto his cheeks. “If only I could forget you.” He draws his face nearer, nosetip dragging along the lower socket of Jason’s eye. Grant laughs, sardonic and harsh. “If every assignment lasted a century and not as much as a month, then you wouldn’t be able to leech back into my thoughts. Club music plays, I hear you humming in my ear. I walk into a café and taste your favorite desserts no matter what I eat. A few contracts ago, I stalked a target into an orchid field and could only smell you. He stabbed me you know—right in the thigh. I was too damn distracted and didn’t even care. I wished it was you—”
Grant’s fingers brush Jason’s bangs from his forehead. They are so close, they breathe each other’s air. Jason’s breath stutters in timing with his heart. Grant breathes, heavily near his cheekbone.
“I wished it was you. You’re invading every part of my life. Can’t keep affording sleepless nights cause I imagine your face next to me and ruining, completely ruining my life. If I could forget about you, I might finally do a job in peace and spend the rest of my time in a random city, in a random bed, reaffirming how meaningless living really is.”
Grant cups his face in both hands. They both exhale raggedly, lips opening. Jason’s lids droop, lashes fluttering blearily.
“I keep trying to walk away from you. I hope that if I spend longer days away, they’ll start to all blend together again. I’m burning. I can’t see no one if I don’t imagine it's you, but no one is you and so I see no one at all. You make wandering hard, because I can’t roam anywhere without you coming to haunt me. You are the bane of my second life.”
His lips ghost over the corner of Jason’s bruised mouth. “You have no idea how hot my blood runs around you. You waltz into that stupid fucking club looking like this and think I’ll let that waste of space live? He made a choice. He signed away his death when he decided putting his hands on you was worth more than his life.”
Jason whimpers. “Kiss me, Grant.” Grant tilts his own face, pressing his hot lips firmly onto Jason’s forehead, once, twice, again and again.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes, low register eliciting goosebumps across Jason’s skin.“So young and with no one else to go to. God the things I can do to you…the things I can teach you.”
Jason lets his hands roam Grant's warming flesh, one finding the base of Grant’s pulsating neck, the other threading into his hair to pull him even closer. Jason opens his legs slowly, pussy throbbing as Grant’s lower abs press in.
Jason nips at the notch of Grant’s stubbly jaw. The older man shudders. Jason’s hands tighten around his neck and hair. He presses a kiss behind his ear, tugging at the stud in Grant’s pierced lobe, rolling it over the tip of his tongue.
“I should tell you no,” Jason whispers, kissing his tragus. “Leave you with your rough hands and my soaked panties. I should go back into town and find a man not half as competent as you. Let him lay me down and call me kiddo.” Jason’s breath stutters as Grant’s right palm shoves between their bodies and flattens against his clothed navel, pressuring his pelvic floor. “And when it’s all over and I’m still dissatisfied, maybe then I’ll come around and let you lick up the aftertaste.”
Grant swallows. Jason squeezes his throat, reveling in the man’s cut off gasp. “You deserve to starve a little longer, Grant.” Jason scoots forward with his knees, lifting his legs just enough to wrap his calves around the older man’s tightly braced core. He rolls his hips forward, whimpering with the sharp quiver in his clit. “You’ve kept me so hungry.”
“You terrible little thing,” Grant croons. It’s gentle, like the footsteps of a shepherd before he leads the lamb to slaughter. “Tell me, kiddo. Tell me to stop now. I won’t later.”
Grant’s right arm drags away from his lower abs, curling over the curve of Jason’s ilium and squeezing firmly. He rubs his left thumb over Jason’s cheek in soft, soothing circles, tilting Jason’s lips closer. “Oh babydoll,” he groans. “I’m doing this all wrong. I should be taking you to dinner, watching you eat those cakes you like.” Grant squeezes his hip tighter, making Jason’s pussy tingle delightfully. He can already envision himself in the mirror later, pressing his own fingers into the bruises. “You don’t mind, do you sweetheart?” Grant chuckles. “Gonna kiss you up, real good. Promise you’ll still get your sweets. Bet you taste better than any cake could.”
“Please Grant,” Jason whimpers breathily between the scant space of their wet mouths. “Wreck me, ravage me.”
The first kiss Grant presses to his lips is chaste. It’s sweet, all the romance of a fairytale prince. Still, it’s like an electric shock to all his nerves. It’s too hot and wet with saliva to be modest, even if Grant takes his time opening his mouth to gently worry Jason’s full bottom lip between his teeth. His tongue traces over it gently, coaxing Jason to open his own mouth. Jason licks kittenishly at Grant’s lips, pulling the corner between his incisors to bite. He giggles, lightly kissing at the beads of blood that drip out of the small wound before it closes up again. He lulls out his tongue, flicking it left and right to show off the little splatter, spreading the tangy, irony taste over his flushed lips.
Grant pulls away briefly, kissing the tip of Jason’s nose, chuckling as it scrunches up. “Cute,” he kisses Jason again, licking his own blood off the younger’s lips. He draws his left hand to Jason’s cheeks, dimpling the flesh with his thumb and forefinger, forcing Jason’s mouth open. Jason blinks up at him owlishly, brows pulling in like the flattening of a cat’s ears.
“Ah, fuck,” Grant mutters. “Why do you have to be so damn adorable?” This time, when he kisses Jason it’s open mouthed. Thick beads of saliva trickle down Jason’s mouth corners that the older man simply licks back in, pressing his tongue to the flat of Jason’s palette to spread it. Jason’s jaw drops into Grant’s palm, allowing the man to move between Jason’s top and bottom lip. They suck on each other’s tongues, closing their lips over each other in a tight suction. Grant is slurping all the saliva out of Jason’s mouth; Jason’s sucking all the air out of his lungs.
Jason shudders, squeezing Grant’s waist tightly between his thighs. “Grant, please. Grant, please, please, please,” he repeats between short breaths. His head is starting to rise out of his skull, a cloudy, heedy quality overtaking him. “Grant—” he whimpers, cut off with a small moan as the older man begins to kiss at his neck, just beneath his jaw. “Ah-” Jason squirms, realizing his throat must be terribly sensitive with how it prickles and heats at the kisses, sending pleasing waves up and down his spine. The base where it meets his hips feel firesome, like tendrils of pure heat were lapping at his entire groin, curling his toes in his boots and making his guts wring and unwind in tandem with his rising pulse.
“Daddy,” he whispers, intentional and yielding. How long did Grant think he could tease him? Two could play. “Is my attention too much for you?” Grant moans as he lifts Jason off the tub, holding him up unassisted, all the while continuing to lick open mouth kisses to Jason’s neck at the notch of his jaw, giving Jason perfect access to whisper some more into his ear. “Is it too suffocating? Do you like to run away?” Jason giggles again, blowing hot air onto Grant’s reddening ear. “That’s not nice,” he pouts. “If you don’t make me cum on your cock soon, I might run away and find a new Daddy.”
“Ha,” Grant groans. “You’re dreadful, just dreadful. You horrible little thing. You think now that I have you I’ll ever let you go? You can roam around, irritating whoever you like into fucking you. They’ll still end up bloody under my boot just for having the gall. Run—it doesn’t matter where you go.”
The door flies open with a flick of Grant’s finger. He carries Jason down the dark hallway quickly into a large bedroom. He lays Jason down onto the soft comforter gently, pressing Jason’s stomach in when he tries to keep his legs closed to try and prevent Grant from standing away and looking down at him. Grant undoes each of their boots quickly, the pairs rising up on their own, sequestering themselves against the farthest wall in a neat line.
Those stark silver eyes pierce him with a consummate, brooding fervor. Jason smooths his clothes over his body with a long stroke of his palms, meeting down into the ‘V’ of his inner hips. Grant’s tongue darts out. “You’ll always come home to me in the end, gorgeous,” he rumbles, kneeling between Jason’s knees where they hang over the edge of the bed. “No one’s going to fuck this pussy better than me. I won’t give them the chance.”
Grant reaches up his left hand, flinging Jason’s jeans buttons open so hard they go flying off to the side and thwacking into the far wall. Grant shoots him a quick wink. Jason snorts, a pleasant rush buzzing up his abdomen from the release of pressure. He moves his own fingers to undo the zipper, but Grant firmly grasps his wrist, pulling it away to lean over his hips. His eyes never leave Jason’s as his teeth close over the zipper, dragging it down in one clean line. Jason bites his swelling lip and whimpers, fluttering his half-lidded lashes.
“Lift your hips for me babydoll,” Grant orders gruffly, tugging at Jason’s beltloops.
“No,” Jason pouts, a smirk pulling into his cheek. “You’ve been so mean to me, why should I do any of the work?”
“Oh,” Grant chuckles. “I’m sorry princess, here, let me help you.” His left hand curls underneath the open flap, the right one joining under the other side. He lifts Jason’s hips off the bed with no effort and Jason’s just about to concede and sit up when Grant rips the seam of his jeans in half, the threads snapping off like the crack of a whip. Jason’s jaw drops open, his hands fisting into Grant’s compression shirt.
“I-you—” Jason splutters, suddenly very aware of the cool room air rushing over his damp boyshorts. Grant ignores him, shucking off the two split halves of his jeans and tossing them off behind him. Jason grumbles, tightening his fingers into Grant’s shirt. “I liked those jeans!”
“Don’t worry kiddo, Daddy will buy you new ones.” Jason huffs, tearing the collar of Grant’s shirt, letting go when it only stretches beyond the ruined hem instead of ripping off completely.
Grant snorts. “I’ll buy a new shirt too.” His forefinger lightly moves up and down the damp middle of Jason’s shorts. Jason gasps, his thighs attempting to close on instinct. Grant’s right palm grips into the flesh of his thigh, keeping it open. “Be good,” he commands. His fingers find the waistband of the shorts and he rips those open too, holding up the wet white fabric to the dim light. “Gonna get you some pretty panties to wear, just for me.” He brings it to his nose and inhales deeply. “Ah, these smell even better fresh off you.”
Jason squirms, his hand barely closing over Grant’s thick forearm. “So you have been stealing my panties!” He shimmies his hips, planting his feet onto the bed to spread his legs. “Did you like those orange ones? Just like your old suit.”
Grant drops the torn shorts onto the bed with a groan, eyes raking over Jason with open hunger. “You terrible, teasing little thing,” he breathes, lowering his face to Jason’s pelvis. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Grant’s lips are hot and slippery when they close over Jason’s engorged clit. The pressure of his tongue is light, only firming up a little to tug at the hood. He sucks on it gently but it's already the most nerve sensation Jason’s ever felt anywhere near his pussy. His hand jerks into Grant’s hair, yanking it. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to yank him closer or pull him away but it doesn’t matter. Grant flattens his tongue, licking a long, hot, rough stripe up his labia. Jason boxes Grant’s ears with his knees, “Ah—fuck!”.
Grant pays it no mind, pushing his thighs open again with two strong fingers. Jason can hardly hear the loud, wet noises over his own laboring breaths and choppy moans. “More, more, more!” he demands, spreading his thighs further.
Grant switches between licking into his hole and sucking on his clit, occasionally pressing feather-like kisses just underneath it.
He pulls away, breathing hard. Even the air coming off of him spreads more nerve-like pulses through Jason’s whole body. “Shit, you got me so damn worked up already.” One of Grant’s hands leaves his thighs.
Jason blinks blearily at him, vision blurring with tears beginning to collect in his ducts. He can’t see Grant’s lower body from where he’s laying, but tracks the press and tense strain of the older man’s muscles. His entire lower face is covered in liquid, up to the tip of his nose. It’s clear where it's spread on the taut skin of his jaw and chin but an almost transparent white where it accumulates on and around his lips.
“Ah…haa,” Grant groans, biting his lip and tucking his chin. “So good, baby. You taste so good.” His fingers find Jason’s labia, stroking it at each side up and down. “Shhh…hey, no baby. Keep your legs open. I know, I know it's all so new to you.”
Jason doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clenching and uncleaning them into the sheets. Grant gathers both of his wrists into one broad palm, placing his hands on his abs and holding them there. “You should see what you look like. Flushed all over, pink pussy all wet and dripping and tasting so fucking good.” His fingers stop stroking, one digit circling his hole. It pushes in with barely any resistance—Jason’s so wet, he feels it pooling into his thighs and trailing down his perineum. The finger feels nice, thicker and longer than Jason’s own. Grant wastes no time in circling his finger, pulling it out to push two in at the same time. He doesn’t scissor them like Jason expects but presses them into the front wall of his pussy, towards his belly button.
The rough pads of his fingers offer great friction to Jason’s soft walls, but as his fingers go deeper they lightly graze against something bumpier that immediately jolts Jason’s entire spine. He gasps—”Daddy!”—hands jerking in Grant’s hold which only tightens.
The man affixes Jason with a gaze that's predatory, pupils dilated. He smirks, ghosting his lips over Jason’s clit once again. “Come for me, baby.” He sucks at Jason’s clit, much firmer than before and with more pressure, curling his fingers inside of Jason like he was trying to gesture him closer. Jason certainly felt close, the cloudiness in his head returning. His inner walls constrict tight over Grant’s fingers and he screams, his entire body jolting at the sudden, forceful relief. A steady stream of wetness pushes out over Grant’s fingers thrusting in and out of him, still lightly curled.
He sobs, hands fisting into Grant’s hair as the man lets go of his wrists, lapping up at his pussy with his tongue and fingers. His legs twitch and jolt, tears roll down the sides of his face. Jason whimpers, shaking Grant’s head with his hands as the man continues to lick and prod at his sensitive nerves. He comes again, spurting all over Grant’s face. “Hmmm…ah! Please, wait–wait! S’too much!”
Grant pulls back, uncurling Jason’s hands from his hair as he gets up from his kneel. “Too much?” Grant snarls, wet mouth spreading into a wide, wild grin. His eyes glint with a mirthfulness Jason thinks may be adoring. He takes in the steady yet ticked rise and fall of Grant’s chest as the man breathes through his nose and exhales through his mouth. Still so disciplined, even while giving Jason his first squirting orgasm.
Jason feels his own face break out into a wide smile. Grant snarls again, sounding all too much like an untamely beast rather than a man but Jason loves it, sitting up with the help of his shaky arms. Grant climbs onto the bed resting on his knees, looming over Jason. Jason finally notices the wet patch that has spread over the front seam of Grant’s already ruined jeans. His mouth opens, taking in the thick splotches of cum seeping through Grant’s boxers.
“Baby, one night with you and I’ve already come untouched.” Grant barks a laugh, running a hand through his mused hair. “I should be embarrassed—this has never happened to me, I should be so fucking embarrassed. Fuck. I don’t care, you’ve got such irresistible pussy, who would blame me?”
Jason preens at the praise, shuffling closer and resting his chin against Grant’s sternum, blinking up at him from underneath his lashes. “I made you cum,” he giggles breathily. “Please, can I clean you up?” He opens his mouth, flicking his tongue. “I’m such a good boy, right Daddy? I deserve your cock.”
“Jesus,” Grant groans, squeezing his eyes shut. Jason watches in awe as his cock hardens up again, stretching the fabric of his boxers taut. His erection is almost comically large. Jason sighs happily. He’s never had anything this big in his cunt before, but knows his throat can take the punishment. He doesn’t wait for Grant’s okay, rubbing his cheek all over the sticky shorts, tugging the jeans down as he does.
“Ugh,” Grant moans gruffily. “Shit, that should not feel as good as it does.”
Jason giggles, pressing two kisses to the clothed tip. “How long’s your cock been pierced?”
Grant smiles, blinking down at him. “I was actually around your age. So it’s been about ten or so years.” He pushes Jason back by the forehead, shoving his jeans and boxers down with one hand, kicking them off quickly. Jason gasps, eyes widening like saucers. Somehow, it’s much more intimidating now that he can see it in all its perfect, naked glory.
Grant’s cock is big like the rest of him, evenly thick from base to tip, veiny and slightly curved. It’s sweaty, twitching from not enough stimulation and painfully hard. Jason takes in the hot red head, adorned with its barbell cross and covered in opaque release, dripping down the length and onto Jason’s shirt. He whimpers, shoving away the image of jerking Grant off with just his tits only so he can massage them with all that cum. No, next time Grant cums it's gonna be in his pussy. Still, he can’t help but press a few little licks at the head, eyes rolling back as the salty, musky flavor hits his tastebuds. Grant curses, long and low under his breath, fingers entwining in Jason’s curls.
“Holy fuck,” Grant’s own tongue runs over his lips and teeth. His face has gone red. He smiles wide, breathing hard. “Look at you, gorgeous.” He pushes Jason’s head away again, ignoring the younger’s whining. With his other hand, he wraps it around his cock, slapping it once against Jason’s cheek and then against his open mouth a few times. “Clean me, tongue only. Don’t suck me off, okay? Be a good boy. Use your hands.”
Jason pouts. “I can take it,” he insists, licking Grant’s tip clean, curling his tongue around the barbells to collect the cum stuck between them. “Mmm…” he wraps one hand around the base, blinking in awe when his finger tips don’t close. “Wow,” he breathes, shaking it back and forth. “You’re thicker than my wrist.” He licks up from the underside, moaning as the vein twitches against his tongue. “You’re gonna split me open,” he giggles.
“I’m…ahh…being incredibly irresponsible about this,” Grant lowers his head. “Can’t help it,” he mutters, caressing Jason’s cheek. “Mmm…think about this pussy all the time.”
“Yeah?” Jason asks, moving to Grant’s tight balls, wanting so badly to suck them into his mouth. He rolls them over his tongue, whimpering. He wants to disobey but he has to be a good boy. “What do you do?”
Grant pushes him off completely, eyes burning him. “Jerk off with your panties in my hand. You wouldn’t believe the friction burns I’ve given myself.”
“No good replacement pussy?” Jason asks, though he knows the answer by now. He wants to hear Grant say it. He’s so wet his thighs are sticking together with his slick and cum. He lays back down while slowly lifting up the hem of his shirt, stopping just beneath his tits. He spreads his legs further apart, rolling his hips. “Do you fuck their tits instead?”
Grant rips the hem of the shirt from his fingertips, yanking it off completely. He shudders a stuttering moan, roaming his eyes over Jason’s bare chest.
“No,” he grounds out, looking all that much more annoyed with himself. “No one’s got pussy like you and they don’t got your perfect, creamy tits either.”
His own shirt goes up and over his head. Jason sighs dreamily. The thin sheen of sweat makes Grant’s warm, light bronze skin glisten along his muscles. Super soldiers may be huge cheats when it comes to endurance and stamina but Grant’s body was crafted out of a lifetime of systematically minded labor. Thick pecs from years of cardiovascular endurance, economically crafted musculature to aid in lifting and moving things across vast distances. The body of a soldier, born and bred for intensive melee combat. Like Jason, he has a healthy layer of fat coating his trunk and legs—and Jason has no doubts that he can work those hips and thighs just as hard.
“Mm…” Jason strokes his fingers over his pierced nipples, rolling them gently. He circles his tits, smile widening as Grant tracks the movement, breath picking up. The older man shuffles forward, planting his large hands at either side of Jason’s hips, he leans down to press a soft kiss to Jason’s lips and pulls away again. One hand curls over the thick, firm mass of Jason’s bare, bruising hip, the other wraps around his cock. Jason draws his knees up. Grant slaps the head of his cock against Jason’s clit, sending jolts of pleasure through him once more. He rubs the head up and down Jason’s labia, coating it in wetness.
“Oh,” Jason groans. “It feels so warm already.”
“Yeah…” Grant breathes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s really paying attention to Jason’s observations, eyes glued to the movement of his cock between Jason’s pussy lips. “Your pussy is so fat and rubbery,” he murmurs, continuing his motions. Jason whimpers, reaching down to spread his pussy open further.
“Daddy,” he whispers. “Please fuck me.”
“Hm?” Grant blinks, eyes darting up. His gaze rakes over Jason’s red face, his puffy bruised lips, the tear tracks drying down his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, moving his hand from Jason’s hip to lift his foot up to his shoulder, holding it there. “Relax for me babydoll.”
Jason exhales just as Grant slowly pushes the head of his cock against Jason’s hole. There’s resistance and though it's momentary it still stings. Jason’s eyes pool with tears again and he whimpers, suddenly worried it might hurt more than feel good. Then, his pussy sucks the head in and it's like it stretches Jason beyond anything he’s ever had in his pussy.
It’s completely unlike the one time he used a toy that took him half an hour to work into himself. That was silicone, smooth and bendable. Grant’s cock is so warm, it feels like it's heating Jason from the inside out. The veiny girth of it is cushioned by his soft inner walls and the stretch still burns but it's so good. Grant pulls out, Jason cries out, trying to force himself downwards.
Grant bends his knee backwards fully, slowly pressing the head back in. This time, he pushes in further. Jason sniffles, already feeling like he’s taken so much when he knows Grant’s hardly inside him.
“That’s it sweetheart…” Grant rumbles quietly. “Relax into it.”
“I want more now!” Jason’s being petulant, he knows, but how can he be patient when his pussy is throbbing and desperate for more?
“Hush,” Grant reprimands, pulling out again and pushing in further. “Don’t tell me what to do baby boy, just tell me when it hurts.” Jason moans, his inner walls sucking Grant in further. He can feel the barbells tingling gently near that wonderful bumpy area towards his belly button.
“Ahh…” Grant moans, throwing his head back briefly. “Shit, you’re just gripping me.”
“Oh Daddy…” Jason whimpers breathily, wriggling his hips. “It feels so good right there.”
“Yeah,” Grant agrees. “You feel so good, don’t you?” He snaps his hips forward. The head of his cock presses directly against that spot inside of Jason. Jason lurches up, shouting at the glorious friction cascading through him. Wetness spurts out around Grant’s cock, sounding like liquid being forced through a pressure hose. He shakes, hips jerking into the bed as Grant suddenly grabs his other leg, forcing both his knees into a full press. He rolls his hips forward, forcing more of his cock inside. Jason squeals, hands flying up to clutch at Grant’s thick shoulders.
Grant lowers his head, licking Jason’s tears up to his ear lobe. He chuckles roughly. The deep bass of it pinpricks Jason’s eardrum making his head shake side to side. Grant encircles the back of Jason’s knee with his elbow, reaching around his stretched leg to grab fingers full of Jason’s damp inky curls firmly yanking his hair to steady Jason’s head.
Grant snaps his hips forward again, sheathing himself inside fully. They both moan. Like this, Grant’s navel rests heavy against Jason’s pussy. Jason jerks his hips up, moaning long and loud as his hard, wet clit ruts against Grant’s taut, sweaty skin. They move together, grunting and moaning while Grant thrusts in and out of him.
Grant pulls back, letting go of his hair and squeezing his knees. He slows his thrusts, seating himself fully at the base and staring down at Jason. “Well, would you look at that.”
“Hm?” Jason blinks away his tears, peering down at himself. His stomach bulges unnaturally. He moves his hand down to the bulge, pressing it down.
Grant lowers his head. “Fuck!” He blinks rapidly, hips jerking. It makes the bulge inside Jason move with him.
Jason gasps, inner walls constricting tighter. He doesn’t know whether to laugh in delight or cry in scared confusion. Was this Grant’s cock? He sniffles, pouting his lips at Grant who moans, letting go of his left knee to grip his cheeks between his thumb and fingers, dragging Jason up as he lowers his own head down, smashing their open mouths together.
“Daddy…” Jason mumbles deliriously. “Oh–ah! Baby,” he tries, mimicking Grant’s tone. Grant does a full body shiver, sucking Jason’s swollen lip. “Baby,” Jason whimpers again. “You’re so big you make my tummy all round. You make my pussy feel so good.”
The sound of his pussy being pounded is obscene. Jason’s so wet, if Grant wasn’t so damn thick he might slip out entirely. Grant lets go of Jason’s knee. Jason links his ankles together, clinging onto Grant like a child as the man presses his palms into the mattress and fucks into him hard and fast.
Jason’s pretty sure he’s gone incoherent, babbling nonsense into Grant’s neck. He cries out as Grant lifts him, pulling out and flipping Jason over. Jason gasps, sobbing at the sudden emptiness. His knees feel too weak to support him, folding underneath his wet, sticky stomach.
“Nooo,” he cries, struggling to sit up. “I want–Ah!”
Grant’s hand lifts his hips, palm coming underneath him to support his pelvis. One strong, large thigh forces Jason’s knees open. Grant’s other hand shoves the side of Jason’s face against a pillow on the bed. The coolness of it shocks Jason’s sensitive nerves, but it quickly warms up with Jason’s haggard breathing. The hand leaves his hair. Grant guides his cock back into Jason, making his eyes roll back. This position has changed something inside of Jason, making Grant feel even thicker and deeper.
“Oh my God,” Jason cries. “Oh you’re so big. I love it so much, it feels so good.”
Grant laughs roughly above him. His hot palm wraps around Jason’s wrist, pulling his arm backwards towards himself. He ruts forward, slamming his hips into Jason’s ass. “Fuck babydoll, if you could see what you look like.” He thrusts forward, alternating between slow, deep thrusts and fast, hard ones. “Fat fucking ass, bouncy tits. Tight little pussy. Shit, you suck me in like you wanna keep me there and jack me off from the inside. It’s like you were made for me. You’re all mine, aren’t you sweetie?”
Jason nods, again and again into the dampening pillow. “‘m yours,” he slurs, vision dancing with white spots. “Tell me–” he squeals again, slamming his hips backwards to meet Grant’s thrusts. Shit, his ass is gonna feel bruised to hell in the morning. He doesn’t care, he loves how it stings. “Tell me…tell me I’m a good boy, Daddy.”
Grant slams his hips forward, stopping once he’s fully seated again. “You’re a good boy, Jason.” His voice is so rough and gravelly, it scratches Jason’s ears, reverberates through his chest. “You’re my good little boy.” The next orgasm feels like it was ripped from Jason, making him scream incoherently. He can’t believe how much he can squirt. He used to think it wasn’t even possible for him and here was Grant, making him squirt in succession.
He pulls out roughly, flipping Jason onto his back again. Jason has no time to whine and complain, Grant slipping in again without a second to waste. Jason wraps his legs around him weakly, trying his best to keep them around the man’s strong back.
Grant lifts them off the bed, standing at the foot of it. Jason has no idea how his legs can even manage to stand, let alone carry him. Jason’s own legs feel like jello, but he links his ankles again, moaning softly. Grant’s hands hold him steady just underneath his ass, blunt fingertips digging into the thick mass of muscle and fat. Grant fucks him just like that, using his own strength to hold Jason up and thrust his hips in and out of his pussy.
Jason’s throat is hoarse. He rests his hot cheek into the junction of Grant’s neck and shoulder, softly licking the salty beads of sweat that have accumulated there. He loves how it tastes, loves the smell of Grant growing heavy and cloying as they make love. His vision is whiting out, but he doesn’t care, knowing Grant will still take care of him. How many men could last this long? Jason’s gonna have to try harder next time. He’s the only person who ever made his man come untouched. He can definitely get Grant to cum sooner again.
“Oh baby, you’re drooling and dripping everywhere.”
Grant lowers them onto the bed again gently, slowing his thrusts so that they go even deeper. “Ha, didn’t even notice me opening up your cervix, huh?” He presses a hot, firm kiss to Jason’s eyelids. “That’s okay baby, can barely feel the string.”
Jason strokes Grant’s face, running his fingers through the older man’s damp locks. He’s not certain he even understands what Grant means right now, but it's okay because Grant doesn’t sound worried and so Jason isn’t worried either. He sighs happily, legs falling open, losing the strength to keep them around his man. And that’s what Grant is, isn’t he? He’s Jason’s. Jason smiles, feeling sleepier and oh so satisfied.
“Grant…” he whispers, holding Grant’s face as the man blinks down at him, slightly surprised by the use of his name. Jason’s heart blossoms. He kisses him softly. “I love you.”
Grant slams into him, sending them both further up the bed. He comes, sudden and hard. Jason’s eyes roll back, his mouth falls open. His vision completely whites out. He can’t hear his own breathing, let alone whatever noises Grant makes. His brain short circuits. He processes nothing, other than Grant cumming inside. It splashes into him, making Jason feel even fuller than he thought Grant could make him feel. It's warm and thick, making the squelch of their connection even messier. It’s probably the nastiest thing Grant could do to him and yet, it's somehow still loving.
When he comes back to himself, Grant’s head is bowed into his chest. One arm is gripped tightly above Jason’s head, bending the metal headboard railing. He’s trembling all over, still completely inside Jason. He breaths heavily into Jason’s tits in choppy, cut off seconds that seem to stretch on and on. Jason simply continues to stroke his hair, trying to hum something soothing even though his throat feels just as sore as the rest of him.
Grant lifts his head slowly, His face is red and wet and his eyes are damp, dark blond lashes clumping together. His lips are fully saturated. He licks over them. He’s looking at Jason like he’s unsure if Jason is real. Jason understands, he’s pretty sure he has the same look on his face.
“You…” Grant starts, cutting himself off. He laughs, uncertain. “Jason, baby, I don’t think I’ve orgasmed that hard ever. I think I saw God for a second there.” He lifts himself up, slow and steady as though not to make himself tremble further. His smile is blinding. Jason’s heart sores. He’s never seen such a happy look on Grant’s face.
Jason smiles back, trying to take it all in despite how heavy his lids are starting to feel. Grant laughs softly, brushing back the curly bangs that have plastered themselves to Jason’s forehead. He strokes Jason’s brows softly with his thumb. “I…” Grant begins, clearing his throat. “You mean everything to me, Jason. I can only hope I never do anything to make you doubt how much I love you.”
He pulls out slowly. Jason whines at the loss, but he’s eager to get cleaned up, even as he revels in the warmth of Grant’s cum coating his pussy. Jason thinks he would start sobbing if Grant didn’t drain half the fluids from his body. His body still convulses, his toes and fingers jerking involuntarily.
“Deep breaths sweetheart,” Grant orders gently. “You just relax. I’ll take care of everything else.” He brushes back Jason’s damp curls with his fingertips. “Sleep, baby. You’re okay.”
Jason hums. “I’m okay,” he agrees, blinks slowing into a heavy lull. Hopefully he won’t get this sleepy every time they have sex. “Take good care of me,” he murmurs, letting his eyes shut.
Revenant answers the call with practiced ease, at no haste but with prompt timing. “Talk to me.”
“I should ask you for a raise,” the cleaner mutters with a scoff. “Can you please go back to offing targets like pathology was your career calling? These gore film sets are starting to get to me.”
Revenant rolls his eyes, biting back a sigh. He wants this call to be quick, so he can get back to his lovely little fawn sleeping in his bed. “Admittedly it wasn’t meant to get that messy.”
“Thought you said you wanted this one live–but I still got his oculars and his other biomods. Weren’t you in the Tier 1’s with this dude? The fuck he do to piss you off.”
Revenant drums his fingers against the burner phone. “It’s never my intention to kill off old comrades when I can help it, but you can take my word for it…he only has himself to blame. Leave his things at the drop off. I’m feeling pretty generous today, so I’ll throw in a little bonus.”
“Oh boy,” the cleaner snorts. “He really pissed you off. Enjoy the night, Rev. Don’t stay up too late.” The cleaner cuts the call.
Revenant kills the burner’s signal. “I won’t,” he says softly to himself. “Can afford it now.”