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The Devil in his arms
He hated magic.
He sat back, straddling his partner's legs, enjoying the view. No scholar of the occult should have a body such as the one lying in front of him. Scholars were supposed to be old scrawny men with bad grooming and questionable wardrobes or impossibly beautiful women that smelled wrong and gave him the magical creeps. This, however, was a powerful man, his body sculpted centuries ago, unchanged by time and needless of maintenance. Always in its prime, ripe and ready, taut muscle and smooth skin. This man, his man this night as he would be in many other nights, remained perfectly unchanged and unscarred, the immortal vessel for a horrible thing just lurking behind the scarlet eyes that were begging him for his touch.
Those eyes beckoned him, saying all the things that Jason couldn't vocalize. He smirked, knowing perfectly well the effect he had on the other man. The body beneath him stirred, the primal urgency for contact more bold than any of Jason's looks. This was a night for silence and reverence. It was a sacred offering he was making: his body and soul for the demon, a promise for peace and oblivion for the man. He leaned slightly, his fingers tracing lightly the velvet binds that kept Jason from interfering with his willing offer. His touch ghosted over the restrained arms and the straps around the rapidly rising chest, deep purple against the palest pink. Another set of binds went around the waist and down the legs, the velvet strip making smaller turns each time, until skin couldn't be glimpsed in the purple wrapping of the ankles.
Bruce leaned down, his chest barely touching the plains of skin beneath him, his hands supporting him at the sides of Jason's head. Tilting his head for the best angle, he ghosted a kiss right where his lover's lips were under the velvet gag. A trembling sigh escaped the magician, his eyes never closing and set intensely on the dark knight's hooded ones.
Magic ran through Jason's body at all times, and Bruce wondered if the magician knew. It was the faintest tingle that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up, a shimmer that made him look slightly more real, vibrant. The detective recognized that extra reality easily enough, but no matter how familiar, it still made him uneasy. He wanted to ask Jason to stop it if he could, because he didn't trust magic.
He didn't ask, though. He didn't trust magic, yet there he was, offering, giving himself away. He didn't kill, yet here he was, offering Jason death.
He sat back, and reached for the last velvet piece. He was offering death, yes, but he was also offering life and freedom. It was up to the bound man to make the choice, and Bruce could only hope (such a dangerous thing, hope) that Jason would find peace in life.
Running the purple fabric between his fingers, the dark knight took on the view a last time before starting his game: thick red hair against white pillows, framing the face of the man who held in the beast. Scarlet eyes, full of desire, and the vibrant feel of magic rolling over him. He placed the velvet blindfold over his own eyes, and the room fell into complete darkness. He felt the breathing of the magician speed up as he went down, his hands mapping every rise and crease of the body beneath him, touch lingering slightly over unseen scars and unnoticed imperfections, while his mouth tasted every inch of skin available, licking and kissing and biting. The silent appraisal and the density of the need drummed in his ears, the soothing sound of winter rain and the night a pleasant background for the shifts and shivers of Jason's body.
He hated magic, but he loved this.
There was no use in denying love here. He tried to be honest at least with himself, so he knew he had the stupidest heart in the world. Anyone who managed to get close to him, he loved. He loved too much, he was possessive and intense; when they were hurt his chest burned and his blood boiled. He needed to protect them, to save them, to bring them justice and peace.
He knew that loving someone was a dangerous thing.
He was nobody's tool and he had lost more than enough to know that not loving was the logical solution, the safest thing to do. Yet here he was, dwelling on another unnecessary risk.
A muffled gasp as he lavished hardened nipples, a restrained grind of bodies as he kissed his way up the collarbone and suckled at a pulse point.
Fooling himself was a costly activity that could easily end up in disaster, so he acknowledged his stupid heart that couldn't keep from loving people, even if it was never the kind of love people wanted or understood.
But hiding that love, that was another thing entirely. He was not fooling himself but deceiving others, and he was a master of deceit.
Following the newly traced map of skin, he lowered himself reaching blindly for the hardened flesh between the bound legs. His touch had no shame, but it was soft and teasing, callused tips raking pulsing veins. He pulled the foreskin back, and testily licked the exposed head. The man underneath him tried to hold him down and the binds held, making a shifting noise. He wondered if Jason had closed his eyes.
Jason could think whatever he wanted of his motives, as long as he allowed him to help. It wasn't like him to allow others this close to himself, but it wasn't like him either to offer his body as a vessel for a prince of hell. This was only the ritual offering, it would take many sessions of partaking his power before the magician could cast the trade. This only opened the door, the possibility. Sometimes having options was all it took to make the burden lighter.
He sucked eagerly, his cheeks hollowing and his lip smacking, one hand cupping heavy balls, the other tracing and pushing down the abs for leverage. Jason's hips bucked, his breathing fast and loud, and Bruce pushed down again. It wouldn't be long before he stopped caring about magic and love and deceit.
He reached for a small tube, slicking his left palm as he kept sucking. He fisted the shaft and retreated upwards as he applied the lube, scraping the exposed head slightly with his teeth and causing another strained trust. His tongue swirled one last time over the tip, and he finished applying the slick gel.
He sat up, left hand still fisting the base of the shaft, and with a deep breath, he lowered himself slowly. In the darkness of the blindfold, color sparks danced in his eyes as pain gave way to pressure. His own weight forced him to take Jason deeper, a low grunt echoing in his throat. His body clenched and unclenched, trying to get used to the invasion, and his legs trembled, begging for a third point of contact to relieve the strain.
He met Jason's body, and remained still for long minutes, his own body aching with desire, wanting to move but wanting to stay in this filled darkness as well. Jason's patience wore off before Bruce's did, and he trusted, half testing, half urging, and the dark knight's vision filled with white. Just as the white faded to gray, he pushed himself to meet another trust, a timeless dance following the sound of skin meeting skin, of white receding to black, pleasure flowing like the oldest magic in the world.
Bruce gasped for breath, taken back by the intensity of feeling, not knowing if it was Jason's waves of power or the sense deprival. He didn't care either way; his lips were twitching for a contact that was restricted by the velvet soft strap. His head fell back, and he lost himself in the fastening trusts. He reached to touch himself and bit down his lower lip, not wanting to break the primal cacophony that filled the room.
Jason grew forceful and the bindings strained, he mutedly growled deep in his throat, first in frustration and then with surprised pleasure as Bruce's silent climax swept him and dragged him to his own. The magician closed his eyes against the bright light that exploded inside his head. It took him a couple of moments to open them again, riding the last waves of pleasure. When he did, he gasped, surprised.
He knew it would happen, but he didn't expect it to be so damn... beautiful.
Jason lifted his now unbound arms to hold his lover's body in place as he sat up, Bruce still straddling his lap. Wisps of magic curled around the purple velvet restrains, Bruce's arms tied together on his back, his legs bound apart, the circles of fabric so close to each other at his ankles that no skin was visible. His back arched with pleasure, muscles stretching and pulling the binds. His eyes covered by the blindfold -the only piece that had been there in the first place-, his voice silenced by the velvet gag.
Aching to touch after being restrained, Jason removed the gag and blindfold, locking his gaze with the faraway look of timber wolf blues. Slowly, Bruce returned his attention to Jason, a slow and lazy smile blooming on his lips just as the magician's mouth covered his own.
It was the first time, but Bruce would be damned if it was the last. He was going to save Jason, no matter what it took.
Love was a dangerous force, and it demanded sacrifices. It was better if he made them willingly than having them forced upon him again.
He had lost enough.