By way of Richard’s inexplicable charm, or, more aptly, his ability to be annoying, they implemented a standard for movie night. One film from each of them, a hoard of snacks, and an agreement that Damian’s willingness to be cuddled was never to be met with commentary.
Ipso facto, he sat on the bed between the man’s legs, practically layered against his chest. Richard insisted he was equally as comfortable, despite how low he had to stoop to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder.
Damian popped one section of an orange into his mouth and held another aloft for Richard to take. With his hand had been the intent, but it wasn’t necessarily a surprise when warm breath fanned over the proffered fingers, instead.
Richard took the slice between his teeth and hummed approvingly. “You’ve really never seen this one?” he asked through his mouthful, punctuating with a playful jab at Damian’s ribs beneath his tank top.
“My answer has not changed since the last time you asked.”
“It’s a classic.”
“So you have informed me. Several times.”
“Probably one of my favorite movies ever.”
He elbowed Richard lightly in an attempt to shush him, only to earn arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. It wasn’t that he minded, at least not as much as he pretended to, but the bloom of sensation beginning at the small of his back was difficult to ignore.
“Do you mind?”
Richard’s apology sounded more amused than sincere, but he lowered his arms anyway. One hand moved to the sheets, the other resting squarely on Damian’s thigh, which was the opposite of an improvement. Although Richard seemed unconcerned, the heat from his palm leeching through the too-thin fabric of Damian’s sleep shorts made the boy tense. Worse, it was enjoyable. Even if the last thing he wanted to do was corrupt these kind, innocent touches—to twist them into the type of affection Damian sometimes pretended he didn’t feel. On the rare occasion he did let himself feel it, it was when he was by himself in his own bed, completely wrapped in darkness with his hand down his pants.
This was different. Even the enclosure of Richard’s bedroom felt alarmingly public, as if someone could peek through the window straight into his head, picking out all the fucked-up fantasies he had embarrassingly brought himself off to before. That was to say little of Richard’s presence, and the horror Damian knew he would feel if he had any idea what his baby brother was thinking.
He began ignoring the film completely with the way he was so wrapped up in thought. Every breath Richard took, Damian felt against his back. Each shift in movement, powerful thighs twitching against him, bare skin against bare skin. The one-sided tension was beginning to get overwhelming.
Damian was at the age where any number of things could send his hormones into hyper-drive, a fact he cursed to high heavens but for which he had yet to find a solution. He only ever shared his concern once with Jason, only because he knew the man wouldn’t tell, and all he earned for his trouble was a wicked smirk and an unhelpful piece of advice to “wait it out.”
Trying to wait it out now felt like drowning. Whenever there was a part of the movie Richard thought was funny, he’d laugh this obnoxiously pretty laugh and squeeze Damian’s thigh, the fingers that pressed to skin instead of shorts coaxing goosebumps from him like some bizarre magic.
Intrusive thoughts battered him. Relentless images of that loud mouth shutting up, moving down his neck, sucking a claiming bruise on it. Richard was the only person in the world Damian would allow close enough to such a vulnerable spot to do anything, and the gravity of such knowledge forced a kind of curiosity on him that he wanted more than anything to satisfy. He wanted to know how it felt.
Idly, he lifted a hand to the side of his neck Richard wasn’t resting on and teased his fingertips behind his ear, feigning an itch. The touch alone sent his pulse skittering, which he hoped wouldn’t be noticed. He trailed lower, to his jaw, introducing a hint of pressure. It was enough for a shudder to build, but he forced it down with great effort and shoved his hand back in his lap before he did any damage to the fragile intimacy they shared.
Even a few minutes later, his skin still buzzed.
The movie hit a quiet scene. Damian schooled his breathing, but immediately almost lost it again when Richard’s lips hit the shell of his ear.
“Do you want a doughnut?”
Damian wanted to hit him so badly. It was only thanks to good self-control that he didn’t jump like a frightened cat, but he still hissed like one. “Hush.”
He could feel the smile curving against him. “Enjoying the movie?”
“Yes,” Damian lied.
“Do you want a doughnut or not?”
Before he could think better of it: “Fine.”
Richard held a pinched-off piece of powdered doughnut to his mouth. Damian had been through battles aplenty and still thought he might have a heart attack right there on the bed.
“Sorry,” Richard whispered, “I took a bite. Is that gross?” Yes, Damian did not say. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to silently accept the treat on his tongue because he didn’t trust his voice.
If he leaned forward just a little to chase Richard’s fingertips after they pulled away, surely it wouldn’t be noticed.
The doughnut tasted repulsively artificial, so he found it in himself to decline another bite. Any more and Superman might come crashing through their roof to find the cause of his rabbiting heartbeat.
He shifted back, pressing between Richard’s legs with the barest amount of friction. It was enough to make him stir with interest, a flutter of warmth beginning at the crooks of his thighs, moving inward.
Not good. His appreciation showed. The panic from before reignited when he noticed the obvious wet spot between his legs, going well from staining his shorts to soaking the sheets where he was sitting.
“Oh,” Richard said, voice quiet but faintly alarmed.
Somehow, the fear in Damian’s system surged even higher. His eyes snapped to the screen, lips parting to defend himself, only to immediately register that Richard’s reaction was due to a raunchy sexual bit in the film, as opposed to noticing Damian’s predicament.
He didn’t think he had ever felt relief so intense that even a sudden hand covering his eyes did not move him. “What are you doing?” he deadpanned.
Richard sounded embarrassed. “I forgot this scene was in here.”
Damian sighed, pulling Richard’s palm from his face to squint at the screen. “I am not six.”
The scene was fleeting, yet, with both of them sitting so rigidly, it felt much longer. Nothing overt, with only mild nudity to boot. Damian would have wondered what Richard was so hung up about if he’d had the chance, but by the time he thought to complain, the man was inching away from his back as if he had been burned.
“Sorry,” he said, and Damian could not for the life of him figure out why he would be. Sorry for letting him see a couple-minutes-long moment of skin-touching? Please. He’d seen worse in real life.
Richard moved far enough away to glance at the sheets, the rest of his apology swallowed, lending Damian the second of clarity he needed to realize he’d been caught for real this time. His entire face flared red so quickly it felt as though it would melt.
Abruptly, he snapped his legs closed, pulling the hem of his shirt down as if that would solve anything. Excuse after excuse leaped to the front of his mind, each of them strangled by his own embarrassment and dying on the tip of his tongue.
He slung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood, pulling harder on the shirt. By now, the poor thing was probably stretched down the middle. He avoided looking Richard in the face. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”
“Damian.” Richard’s tone was strange. Great, he thought he was disgusting. He was mad he ruined his sheets. He was probably thinking of the most polite way to ask never to see him again. “Stay,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”
Sometimes he wondered how the man’s brain operated. Nothing about this was in any part a small deal, that much was certain. He narrowed his eyes, face still burning fever-hot, and peered toward the doorway while he stewed in his humiliation. His knuckles were turning white from how hard he gripped his shirt, not that it changed anything with the evidence left behind.
This time when Richard spoke, his tone held a mite of humor Damian did not appreciate. “Just sit back down and finish the movie with me. Please?”
What did he expect him to do? Sit in his own mess and squirm until the movie was over? Traitorously, the consideration only sent another bolt of heat between his legs. Damn his hormone fluctuations.
“I would rather not be reminded of my—”
Richard interrupted, standing up and offering a gentle touch to Damian’s elbow that made him buzz from head to toe. “Really, it’s a completely natural reaction. I tried to stop you from watching that scene.” Damian picked his gaze up high enough to see Richard smile, comforting even despite the horrific situation. “I’ll just go get a towel and you can sit back down.”
Damian was too stunned to move while Richard fetched the towel. So, he thought it was a ridiculous instance of cinema that riled Damian up. Still embarrassing, but leagues better than the truth. At least that was something he could bounce back from, unlike got wet from a brother’s completely innocuous touches.
Richard returned with a fluffy bath towel, laying it down and then plopping back on the bed, arms outstretched toward Damian. “Come on. We’re missing it.”
He warred with himself, but decided standing there too long would only encourage Richard to pull him down, so he acquiesced.
On one hand, he was relieved his incident didn’t get him tossed out of the room, but on the other, his body still sung with tension when he returned to his position between Richard’s legs. Not as close, certainly not risking proximity to certain areas of him Damian would only dream of in private. He kept his knees together this time, legs drawn toward his chest.
Apparently uninhibited by even an ounce of shame, Richard pressed his thighs against the outsides of Damian’s, boxing him in and making him feel small in a way he’d never imagined could be a positive thing.
The movie played on. Damian hardly remembered any of the characters’ names.
Perhaps five minutes later, he nearly forgot his own when Richard scooted forward, pressing something unmistakable—warm, hard—against the small of Damian’s back. He had to ignore it, to show him the same courtesy he’d been shown, but it was excruciatingly difficult not to rock back. The curiosity burned fiercely under his skin. It was right there, and all he wanted was to touch just a little bit.
Richard’s lips returned to his ear. “Are you okay? I can move.”
“No,” Damian said, too quickly. He closed his eyes, leveled his breathing, exhaled through the nose. “You do not have to move on my account. I am perfectly comfortable like this.”
Richard slid his feet between Damian’s own, and the split-second reaction of disgust toward the touching skin was stamped out when ankles hooked around his own and gently pried his legs open.
“Yeah?” Richard asked. His voice was breathy, far from casual. Oh.
Damian opened his mouth and found that all his carefully-crafted comebacks were snatched directly out of his head. What he had left was a dumbly parroted, “Yeah.”
Richard stilled. Damian tilted his head, watching the last of an undoubtedly mischievous smile tilt into something contemplative. “Damian?” Sounding concerned now. “I didn’t spook you, did I?”
Again, Damian repeated the sentiment, as if he needed to hear it one more time to catch up with the concept. “Spook me? Hardly.”
“Oh?” Richard’s voice pitched back to intrigue. “Still comfortable?” The way he said it, words rolled on his tongue and dripping in innuendo, sent a wave of anticipation through Damian so strong he felt the trickle of it further ruin his already-soaked shorts.
“Of course,” he replied, fighting to keep his voice even. It wasn’t easy, given the way the situation was dawning on him so slowly, like running through a dream.
Richard propped his legs open further, spreading him wide enough that the cool air of the bedroom made itself apparent to the slickness on his inner thighs.
“Enjoying the movie so far, then?” As if he were looking anywhere near the screen, Damian thought. It was obvious how much he was enjoying himself even without Richard staring straight between his legs. Even more obvious when calloused fingers touched his thigh, high enough that they missed the sheen on the skin below, but still pulled a grunt from Damian he couldn’t even begin to control.
“Yes,” he lied again.
Richard had the nerve to laugh. It was soft, not disturbing the air, but it was full of mirth all the same when he ducked his head and mouthed words against the curve of Damian’s jaw. “You haven’t been watching this at all.”
Of course he knew. In hindsight, Damian should have guessed that the detective would see his cards before he ever played them.
He eked out his agreement. “No. I haven’t.”
“So, then, what made you so…comfortable?” The fingers on his thigh trailed lower, gliding through the patch of wetness but stopping at the edge of his shorts where they stuck to the crook between thigh and vulva. “Was it me?”
Damian groaned through clenched teeth, forcing his hips to stay flush to the mattress instead of lifting them toward the teasing touch. “I thought you were above self-flattery,” he snapped, face pink.
Richard hummed against his jaw, moving his lips lower, ghosting over his neck until Damian caved and tilted his head, craving more of the sensation. These were the daydreams that had gotten him in this mess in the first place. The sting of embarrassment was lessened by a swipe of tongue over his pulse, even if he did stutter an uneven breath after the fact.
“I just like to know how good I make you feel.” Pointedly, Richard slid his fingers under the edge of Damian’s briefs, smoothing the pads over the swell of his flesh and then down through his folds, bypassing his clit entirely. Damian’s hips shot up of their own accord. So much for self-preservation.
“You—” he started, only to reign himself in with a shakier breath than before.
One fingertip circled his hole, slow and light, barely dipping in, and it was still enough to drag the most humiliating whine out of him he’d ever heard. His nerves were on fire, and for all his bravado about his sexual knowledge, that was all it was: Knowledge. Not experience, only textual information and scientific accuracy. No one had actually touched him before.
The probing finger dipped into him to the first knuckle and tugged on his rim. Damian flexed involuntarily, trying to draw it in further. “If you don’t touch me properly, I am disregarding all future invitations to movie night.”
Richard laughed once, a loud bark this time, surprised by the comment. Then, lifting his finger back up to swipe messily at his clit, he tilted Damian’s chin with his free hand and swallowed the desperate noise he made in a kiss.
The somewhat awkward angle didn’t stop it from feeling good. He never put much stock in the idea of kissing, since he’d only ever pecked Jon for a moment. This was something entirely new. Richard knew how to kiss and did it well, coaxing sounds out of him with hardly any effort.
As the tip of a deft tongue swiped at the seam of Damian’s lips, fingers circled over his clit, intense. He parted his lips for a gasp that wound up stifled by Richard’s tongue invading.
He swore he had coherent thought a moment ago, but that was before the man’s middle finger dipped down and toyed with his hole again, suggesting penetration but not delivering.
Finally, Damian canted his hips, the loud moan that poured from him smothered once more by Richard kissing it down. At the very least, he didn’t make him outright ask for it. The sound must have been enough encouragement, because he slid two fingers into him to the second knuckle, letting Damian experience the stretch before moving any further.
Damian was small, even for his age, so the circumference of two of Richard’s fingers was enough to make him feel full. When he started to close his knees, the movement was blocked by the larger ones holding him still, a sensation that made him pulse around the intrusion.
“Do you want me to stop?” Richard asked, snatching him back to reality. It was only then that Damian realized how close to the edge he was. How humiliating. He’d barely been touched at all, and yet…
Faintly, he shook his head, bearing down with his hips.
Richard’s free hand touched Damian’s stomach, the muscles there jumping at the contact like he’d been shocked. A large palm flattened over it, smoothing its path down the skin and making him shiver before it was down the front of his shorts. Richard’s thumb glided easily over swollen flesh while the fingers of his other hand continued to toy with Damian from the inside.
Damian arched, his own hands scrambling for purchase on Richard’s thighs. All propriety from before was lost, and he knew if he could see how ridiculous he looked with his face so red and his spine curved at this angle, he’d be be downright ashamed. Decidedly, he shelved the thought for later. Right now, he was so close he could taste it.
All Richard had to do was tease him, pumping two fingers shallowly in and out while he pinched and thumbed at his clit, and Damian came with a strangled cry, shaking so hard it was a wonder he didn’t collapse back into the other’s lap from the strain.
Coming down from the high was an ordeal, owed entirely to Richard whispering and fingering him through the aftershocks. “Good job,” he praised, and smiled against his cheek when Damian tightened again. “You did so well.”
The insult Damian meant to give came out as little more than a wounded growl. Richard didn’t stop moving his fingers, regardless, sliding them all the way in now that Damian’s body was relaxed enough to allow them. He rubbed along his walls, almost curious in fashion with each stroke and twist.
Damian keened, unable to stop the vicious spill of slick from within him, reigniting every nerve in preparation for more. As subtly as he could, he spread his thighs wider, rolling downward to encourage the fingers toward the spot he enjoyed most.
Richard, of course, was more than willing to accommodate, even if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Does that feel good?” Spoken against Damian’s ear again, where his skin still buzzed from the gentle contact.
“It is…fine,” was the best he could come up with without humiliating himself, and it still only halfway worked.
A mistake, because then Richard withdrew. “It wasn’t too much, was it? You can tell me.”
At the loss, Damian smothered his arising whine, but it found its way out when Richard lifted soaked fingers to his mouth and sucked, humming as if the taste pleased him. If he expected an answer after that, he wasn’t getting one. All Damian could do was tilt his head and stare at those fingers disappearing between the man’s lips, at least until he caught his gaze and Richard’s eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.
He took removed the fingers with a pop and managed to darken the fierce blush on Damian’s face even further with the words, “Do you want to try?”
“No!” Scandalized, the answer was startled out of him. “That is crude.”
When Damian inched out of his hold and faced him, Richard laughed at whatever he saw in his expression, so he willfully sobered. He was attempting to figure out how to encourage more kissing without leaping directly into it when his companion got a wicked look on his face. Eyes dark and hooded.
“It’s not crude,” Richard said. “I like the way you taste.” He advanced with all the grace of a cat about to pounce, but Damian wasn’t complaining when his chin was tilted and he was being guided against Richard’s mouth again. He gave his best attempt at mimicking, but it was difficult not to surrender when teeth pressed into the cushion of his lower lip and tugged.
Richard was an unbearably gentle and accommodating kisser. Even once he pulled away, he remained within distance for another, and his breath fanned across Damian’s face when he added, “In fact, I’d like to taste you more.”
Ridiculous though it might have been, it didn’t help how Damian’s briefs were sticking to him.
As if sensing his dilemma, Richard guided his hands down to Damian’s slim hips. Like this, holding with pleasant firmness, they looked absurdly large.
“Would you like it if I did that?” Damian would like anything Richard did to him, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. He nodded, flicking his gaze away simply because he was unable to hold the stare being leveled at him.
Richard wouldn’t let him hide. He grabbed his jaw and leaned even closer, speaking practically against his mouth now. “Come on, Damian.” The way he said his name made him shiver. “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”
Despite his typical proficiency in speaking, his words all seemed to cling to his tongue the second he was asked. He didn’t know which was worse: The hoarse quality to his voice, or that the first thing he’d deigned to say was, “I want your mouth, there.”
Richard’s grin suggested he was having far too good a time with the uncharacteristic bashfulness. “Where’s ‘there’?” He slipped his thumbs underneath Damian’s bottoms and pulled them down his legs, not even waiting before he dove between them with his fingers. With heat to his voice, he asked, “Here?” and meaningfully parted his labia with his fingers in a V.
Damian’s breath came in a hiss. “Yes.”
The mischief on Richard’s face smoothed into something unbearably fond. Looking at it made Damian’s chest ache, so, stubbornly, he curled a hand around the back of the man’s neck and pulled him closer.
Richard went easily with the flow of motion, ducking down to catch another quick kiss, leaving in time to hear the soft, hitched breath Damian gave. He descended agonizingly slowly, laving kisses and little pink marks down the boy’s chest, pausing to mouth at his nipples. He was aware of the abundance of time they had to themselves tonight and was apparently going to drive Damian out of his sane mind indulging in it.
Again, he pressed on the back of Richard’s neck, a frustrated sound spinning right out of him like unspooled thread. That mouth was too hot on his overly-sensitized body, delivering a constant stream of sensation that pooled downward, until he throbbed with desire to be touched.
Richard lowered himself to his stomach on the bed, getting himself into a position where he could see everything. Damian was leaking on the sheets, and even that wasn’t enough to earn Richard’s mouth where he wanted it to be. The bastard.
He instead focused his attention on Damian’s inner thighs, licking, kissing, and then delivering a pointed nip to the junction that made him jump, crying out as both hands twisted in Richard’s hair for leverage.
By the time Richard’s tongue laved over his clit, Damian was curling in on himself, hunching over the man’s head and trying in vain to close his legs on instinct to escape the stimulation.
No matter how much Damian pulled at his hair or squeezed his thighs around his head, Richard kept his mouth on him, teasing his tongue through soft, wet folds, sometimes slipping inside and forcing a breathless moan from Damian’s lungs.
A hand rose, pushing at Damian’s midsection. Obediently, he relinquished his grip, at first thinking it signaled the end of Richard’s tolerance for his tight hold and then coming to find that he was just being encouraged to lie back. It took a second for his brain to catch up, but he leaned back on his elbows, head cocked to the side to admire the fire in Richard’s eyes as he remained at his post, lapping at him with more vigor.
He held his stare for as long as he could stand it, hands twisting in the sheets as moan after moan was dragged out of him. His gaze turned bleary the longer he stared at the flex of Richard’s jaw. In no time at all, his moans became clipped whimpers, abs jolting with every pointed swipe of that talented tongue.
Without warning, a finger slid inside him, and he clenched down hard. Desperately, greedily. It took a long time for his jaw to unlock around the word “Almost—” and by then he was loath to discover that was all he could coherently give, other than a shamefully loud cry.
Richard reached up with his free hand, clamping down on Damian’s hip and dragging him down against his face. The second he got his lips wrapped around the engorged swell of his clit and sucked, working another finger in and striking at just the right spot, Damian collapsed on his back and smacked his own hand against his mouth, pressing just to muffle the scream when he came again. He spasmed hard, knees drawn tight above Richard’s head, ankles crossed and digging into the man’s back with what had to be significant pressure.
Richard didn’t seem to mind at all. Contrarily, he kept nosing at the insides of Damian’s thighs, pressing wet kisses and love bites until Damian released him.
He sat up, lips and chin glistening, the front of his obnoxious, cartoon-patterned boxers tented in the front. Damian felt a surge of affection, no matter how hard he tried to squash it down. Richard was always too pretty for his own good, even after making a mess of them both.
Once he grew calmer, he pushed himself to his knees and all but scrambled to get a hand on the tempting outline of Richard’s cock, earning a rewarding “Ah!” for his efforts.
Damian cupped his palm around it, glancing up through his lashes at the man, who looked like a deer in headlights for the couple of seconds it took him to ease into the touch. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, even though he was already rocking his hips. “There’s no obligation or—”
Damian made a tt sound and traced his thumb along the length trapped beneath the fabric, felt it twitch against his hand and let his mind run with the possibilities. “Insulting that you think I would do this for any other reason than wanting to.”
One corner of Richard’s mouth tilted upward. “Oh, yeah?” When Damian set his jaw and blinked up at him, unamused, Richard held his hands aloft as if in surrender. “Sorry,” he said, albeit disingenuously.
Damian was going to wipe the smug look off the idiot’s face if it killed him. He yanked those hideous boxers down, blinking when Richard’s cock sprung free, full and thick and bobbing heavily in front of his face. He couldn’t prevent the dark flush on his cheeks, or the fact his mouth was watering, but he could at least resist the urge to lick his lips and save the last dredges of his pride.
The tips of his thumb and index finger were barely able to touch when he wrapped his hand around it, starting at the base with a hold that was perhaps too firm, not that Richard seemed to mind. He always was a glutton for punishment.
He stroked slowly, feeling it out and admiring the flex of Richard’s hips when his palm smoothed over the head. Following it through should be simple, since Damian felt he had a good idea of what might feel good. He worked with long strokes, every so often focusing on the tip, where he would earn a jolt and a pleased moan. Whether he had a natural knack for it or Richard was just easy had yet to be seen, but at least it worked in his favor.
The exact moment Richard’s eyes fluttered closed, Damian poked curiously at the slit with his tongue and looked up to see the man’s mouth drop open in a gasp. A long, low oh sound, and then: “Yes-s-s, just like that. Use your mouth.”
Damian’s skin prickled with the spread of his blush. Obediently, he wrapped his lips around the head and gave an experimental suck, flicking his gaze up to track how well he was doing. Richard’s teeth were digging into his lip, so that was a good sign. Focused now, he descended, feeling the weight, getting used to presence and taste and offering an undulation of his tongue against the underside. It won him a flex, which he felt intimately.
He hummed, sliding back and forth, testing the waters. It was easy to get lost in all the sensations: The corners of his mouth stretching the further he went, how he opened wide enough that his jaw popped.
He was stopped by a sharp gasp and a hand in his hair. “Be careful, you don’t want to—to choke.”
With a vindictive spike in his blood, Damian ignored the warning and sank lower, feeling the head touch the back of his throat. The hand in his hair tightened but didn’t pull him away, so he kept trying to swallow, feeling an itch as his gag reflex resisted. How annoying. He didn’t want to be impeded by something so trivial. If he could master training exercises, he could master this, no problem.
It only took a couple of tries. Mentally, it was like a game; block out the survival instinct, replace it with the reward of Richard’s strained moan, louder this time. His fingers combed through Damian’s hair, nails lightly raking over his scalp. He heard him talking. Babbling, really. A myriad of “that’s perfect” and “just a little more” and a slew of other things that became more like white noise to him in his concentration.
Damian barely moved much more, just swallowed once and felt tears leak down his cheeks from the fullness, and that did it. Richard really was just that easy.
He gave a bitten-off cry that satisfied Damian down to his core and then came down his throat without warning, hips jerking roughly twice before he forced himself to hold still, his hand rising to clasp around his mouth.
Damian had no choice but to swallow. Once Richard pulled back, he looked at Damian’s burning red face and fangless glare and immediately launched into an apology. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I normally don’t—I was going to warn you. You shouldn’t have had to…” Exasperated, he ran a hand through his own hair, pushing back damp curls, and said, breathlessly, “Fuck.”
Damian’s mood improved immediately. Something about undoing his brother well enough that all he could do was stammer and curse gave him a sense of power. Subconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he scooted closer, thumbing at the still-hard cock bobbing between Richard’s legs. It leaked at the touch even though he jerked away, oversensitive.
Served him right. Damian got a loose hold on him and stroked, enjoying the shrill sound Richard made before he snatched Damian’s wrist and looked down at him with an expression that was, for all intents and purposes, a pout.
Richard blinked a few times in succession, as if to clear his vision when Damian was the one with drying tear tracks. Then, like a physical transformation, he straightened his spine and let the same cunning grin from before slide across his face. “So, you want to play that game, huh?”
Damian tilted his chin up, daring. “Perhaps if you had lasted longer, I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands.”
Richard’s face flushed red. “Brat,” he said, pushing Damian on his back and swiping a blind thumb down his slit. “I’ll show you who’s taking what into whose hands.”
“Very clever,” Damian shot back, emboldened even with the sharp strikes of pleasure lighting through him. “I’m quaking.”
Richard laughed, ducking his head to claim his mouth. Damian tasted himself there, and undoubtedly the favor was being returned. It was filthy but rewarding, and little blooms of feeling crackled down his spine as he arched into the kiss. He was still clumsy, inexperienced, but Richard had a way of guiding him through everything that made him feel at ease.
The relaxed state lasted until fingers found his nipples and pinched, forcing him to grunt as he backed up and peered down at the offending digits. With his most recent orgasm having washed across his body, the peaks rose to be toyed with annoyingly quickly despite its tenderness. Each roll between the pads of Richard’s fingers and every nip of a nail scraping over the skin felt like a mild shock.
“If that’s your plan—”
“Watch the movie,” Richard demanded pleasantly enough, with a hint of promise beneath the surface that, much to his chagrin, shut Damian up immediately.
He tipped his head back, sighing into the air. Watching the picture upside-down used enough focus that, for about thirty seconds, he was able to ignore his chest being played with. Then Richard’s mouth wrapped around a bud, tempting with a tug of teeth and a flick of his tongue before moving to the other.
The noise Damian made in response was strained. “If you actually expect me to pay attention to this film, you’re not making a fantastic case for your sanity.”
Richard huffed a laugh, pulling away just long enough for Damian to glimpse how both of his nipples were now puffy and cherry-red and abused. It didn’t help that Richard kept sucking marks onto his chest around them, making the whole area so sensitive that another errant swipe of his thumbs had Damian’s spine curving off the mattress.
“Watch,” Richard repeated, with bossy emphasis, “the movie.”
Damian groaned, frustrated when the touches didn’t abate while he writhed, trying to get comfortable in this position. Up and down Richard moved, assembling his watercolor of marks sucked onto inches of available flesh, leaving evidence to fuel all of Damian’s future daydreams.
Already, he was slipping into one, basking in the continued affection by imagining how it might feel to have Richard’s hips clutched between his thighs, cock sliding inside him with more ease than it should because he was so ready. It would still be a stretch, almost too much, but it’s never too much because they just fit together.
His eyes slid closed, and they’d barely been shut a second before a sharp smack landed on his thigh. He jolted to a sitting position with his hands curled around Richard’s shoulders in a grip that was all nails.
“You struck me!” he accused.
“I told you to watch the movie,” Richard said by way of explanation. “You started to doze off.”
“I was not dozing off.”
“So you were fantasizing?”
Damian pursed his lips, flustered. “You are an absolute buffoon.”
“What were you thinking about?”
Damian slammed Richard on his back, sitting on top of him with his forearm braced on the man’s chest. Between his legs, against the stinging skin of his thigh, he felt Richard twitch, rigid and pulsing. So close.
He shifted until Richard’s cock was nestled perfectly against his slit. A jolt seared through him at the contact, as it must have through Richard, because he hissed a breath through his teeth and then dropped his mouth open around a bewildered moan.
For many indulgent seconds, Damian remained there. He knew he was dripping obscenely, but couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed anymore.
“Damian,” Richard said in a vaguely entranced voice. He looked at him, something electric there that Damian knew was reflected back to him. “We can’t do…that.”
Damian, still wrapped in the intimacy of the moment, didn’t get a chance to check his tone before arguing. “I’m protected,” he said, closer to pleading than he would have liked.
“I know. That isn’t the problem, kiddo.”
Indignation speared him right through the chest. “If you think that my maturity is—”
“Damian.” Richard smiled sheepishly, dousing the fire in an instant. “You’re just smaller than anyone I’ve ever… I don’t want to hurt you.”
As if he wouldn’t let the man hurt him. As if he wouldn’t enjoy it. “I have faith in your ability not to screw up.”
“Shucks,” Richard said, grin plain in his voice, “you’re sweet.”
Because it felt good, and because it put the fear of god back on Richard’s smug face, Damian rutted against him, shivering at the touch. As expected, the moment pressure was applied, another moan tumbled from Richard’s mouth. His hands flew up to grasp Damian’s hips, holding him still while he mentally wheeled through his inhibitions.
He was hesitating. Damian didn’t want him to. He was on the verge of outright insisting when Richard held himself by the base and rubbed against Damian, gathering slickness until each movement was frictionless and wet.
Everything between his legs ached with want, hot and overwhelming. The moment Damian was allowed to prop himself on Richard’s cock and sink down, every sensation converged with a blinding light. Satisfaction, pleasure, and the slightest pinch of pain, then fullness as he parted and spread around it.
The instant he crested the widest point of the head, he tensed, muscles locking as his fists balled atop Richard’s chest. Through tightly-pursed lips, he whined, unsure of how to deal with the onslaught of new feelings.
Richard hushed him, urging him to relax with gentle strokes down his thighs. “It’s in,” he said, as if Damian didn’t know. But he couldn’t even open his mouth to speak, let alone inhale, so the following advice he got was helpful in spite of its obviousness: “Breathe, Damian.”
Richard was making it difficult to obey with the way his body kept twitching beneath Damian’s legs, restraint tangible, and how constant the pleasant rubbing of his palms over Damian’s thighs had become in his effort to stave off the hunger he so obviously felt. Something like pride emerged in Damian’s chest at the knowledge he was putting Richard on edge like this, making him wait.
He took a shaky breath and relaxed, gravity carrying him down another inch before he tightened again, overwhelmed with the intensity of being filled. He felt as though he would shake apart if Richard weren’t holding him, and whatever the man was saying to him was getting lost in translation as Damian’s train of thought was reduced to nothing but how badly he wanted to prove himself. It felt good, if too much, but he’d be damned if he didn’t finish the task for which he’d nearly begged.
Stubbornly, he rocked his hips, feeling Richard’s cock spear up into him with brutal force. He choked on a moan, mouth remaining open afterward as he panted through the effort. Already, he felt the prickling heat of his body beginning to break into a sweat. Perhaps he should have heeded Richard’s warnings, after all, but—no, he’d already come this far.
It was hard to relax with the feeling of something so large clutched in his passage. He felt as though he’d break if he kept on, and yet he fought to accept the intrusion.
Richard said his name reverently, hands stroking one last time up Damian’s thighs before grabbing him by the hips and yanking him down the remaining length. The unrestrained wail was punched out of Damian’s body, but immediately Richard’s soothing hands were back in place, thumbs rubbing circles over his hips, then inward, toward the bump in his lower belly Damian realized with a halfway-panted whine was the outline of the cock inside of him.
“You did it,” Richard was saying, praising him on a success he was only partly acknowledging. It felt impossible, and yet, the longer he blinked damp lashes down at the slight protrusion of skin, the more reality began to set in. Somewhere past the haze, he felt the pride from before blossom, carrying pleasant heat from his core to his face, still arranged in an open-mouthed stare of wonder while he regulated his breathing.
He closed his eyes, inhaled softly but audibly, a long, grounding breath. And then he flexed his toes, pressing them into the sheets as he lifted himself up, nearly every inch slipping out of him until he slid down again, easier this time.
Richard moaned, holding him again but this time free of restraint, simply touching him because he wanted to, because he could. “Yes,” he moaned, tilting his head back into the pillows, “just like that, Dami.”
Damian practiced the movement, tentative bobs up and down, focusing on the shift of the bulge in his stomach where it carved into him, creating space to get deeper. He could feel the ache of his walls relenting, everything accommodating to make it fit.
The bobbing became bouncing as his confidence grew, and once he got his hands on Richard’s chest and settled his pace, the man responded with upward thrusts of his own, pulling longing noises from Damian’s mouth by force. They moved wordlessly for so long, until both of them lost the ability to remain quiet.
Damian’s nails bit into the skin of Richard’s chest, slipping here and there, leaving crescent-shaped indentations and raked pink lines in his wake. Richard’s spine bowed as he flexed upward, lips parted for his swelling breaths and praises.
“Yes, yes yes,” he repeated, “so good. Perfect.” A familiar sentiment. And then more, tumbling from the broken dam of inhibition. “So tight and hot for me. You’ll come just like this, won’t you, Dami?”
He’d been so wrapped up in reaction to Richard that the thought hadn’t even occurred to him until it was spoken, and then the impetus crashed on him, hard.
“I don’t—” he started, unable to reconcile the wrecked, raw quality to his voice with the composure he thought he’d been exhibiting, “I don’t think that I…”
Richard swung an arm around Damian’s back and rolled them over, boxing Damian’s significantly smaller frame in with his own body. “Of course you can,” he replied, voice so sweet and earnest that Damian couldn’t help but believe him.
Richard’s mouth found his jaw, fingers twisting at tender nipples again, getting the pleasure zipping up his spine anew. Damian’s breath caught, and Richard’s hand trailed down even as he kept pace with his thrusts. A thumb rubbed insistent circles over his clit, and Damian, whose voice barely sounded familiar to him now, outright begged. At the peak, he shattered with an insurmountable cry of Richard’s name.
Richard groaned sweetly against his jaw, and seconds later he felt the swell of something inside him. The moment after, a faint cramp of over-fullness.
They came back to themselves slowly. When Richard pulled out, cum flowed from Damian’s hole, thoroughly wrecked and simply unable to hold it in. He whimpered at the loss, feeling peculiarly hollow afterward.
Richard’s fingers followed where he’d withdrawn, curbing the emptiness somewhat as he twisted them inside with embarrassing, wet noises. “I can’t believe you took all of it,” he said, still sounding awed.
Damian’s lips tilted into a small smile. “You’re lucky I am not offended by your lack of belief.”
Richard hummed, sliding his fingers free and settling back on his haunches to survey the damage. Once he appeared satisfied, he glanced over his shoulder at the abandoned film, which played credits music merrily behind them. “You know, you’re welcome to sleep in here tonight.”
Pleased by the offer, not that he’d say so, Damian nodded his assent. “After a shower.”
“After a shower,” Richard agreed. “But we still have one more movie to watch.”
While Richard navigated to the next movie, Damian stretched on the bed like a cat, feeling lazy and sated. Not long after, he felt a familiar weight settle in behind him, followed by the sensation of Richard nosing at the nape of his neck. “You’d better pay attention to this one,” he teased.
“I intend to,” Damian fired haughtily back, shortly before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.