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If he hadn’t been running surveillance through that particular club at that particular time, his interest would never have got out of hand, would never have escalated to the point of obsession and led to him fleeing the planet without doing the proper planning.
Bruce was in the cave, reviewing the footage, tracking the delivery man of an up and coming mob boss. It turned out that this guy was mad for cock, and so Bruce had strategically placed cameras all over Heaven. He was sipping coffee, scanning for the arrival of his target when someone else caught his eye - Hal Jordan was dancing, t shirt and jeans so tight they might as well be sprayed on, and receiving many admiring glances. He watched as a handsome blond struck lucky and he and Hal danced closer, until they were grinding on each other, Hal unbuttoning the stranger’s shirt and caressing his chest. Bruce set his coffee cup down and lent closer to the screen. They were kissing now, jaws virtually unhinged as they were seemingly ramming their tongues down each others throats. Bruce swallowed.
He continued watching as the blond stranger said something in Hal’s ear. Hal nodded and led him by the hand across the dance floor. Bruce’s heart sped up. He hoped he knew what was going to happen next. His purpose forgotten, Bruce switched the feed to the men’s room, and yes, there they were - Hal and the blond fell through the door, laughing and frantically kissing while they grappled their way into a cubicle. Hal pushed the shirt from the man’s shoulders, and Bruce admired his lean frame, slighter than Jordan, though that was not surprising - he himself was a rare example of someone with more muscle and broader shoulders than the Lantern.
Bruce kept his gaze steady as the two men looked at each other. Evidently his companion’s face telegraphed a question, Hal nodded his response and the stranger slid to his knees, keeping his eyes on Hal’s. He unbuckled Hal’s belt, making quick work of his jeans, and yes, thank you Jesus, Jordan did not wear underwear. He zoomed in when the man took Hal’s cock out (and yes, it was as long and beautiful as Bruce had ever suspected), and watched the restraint showing in every muscle of Hal’s body not to unleash himself and just fuck the stranger’s face. Bruce wished it were him on his knees, he’d take everything Hal wanted to give and more, he would take him so deep in his throat and just suck and suck. He was certain Jordan would be delicious. He was riveted by every twitch on Hal’s face, watched his eyes go heavy and slide shut, his head tip back and his mouth part with pleasure. Saw him mouth a word, presumably the man’s name, a warning which the man didn’t seem troubled by and he came down the man’s throat, hands clutching the man’s shoulders.
Bruce wished he had audio as he desperately wanted to know what delicious noises Hal made when he came. Hal dragged him up and kissed him - apparently Hal didn’t mind someone who tasted of his cum and Bruce filed that fact away. They kissed messily for a few more moments before Hal swapped places, and ah, yes, there it was, the image that would drive him crazy. More than watching Hal’s pleasure, seeing that infuriating mouth stretched around a cock, was his go to fantasy. He could imagine it was him being touched and worshipped by Hal Jordan, imagine what being taken into the wet velvet heat of Hal’s mouth would feel like. Hal sucked him to completion, and Bruce saw him smirk as he wiped away a trickle of cum that had escaped. Bruce was uncomfortably hard in his jeans now. He cut the feed, he needed to fuck something. Now.
If John Constantine was surprised to find Bruce Wayne at his door, he didn’t show it. Bruce’s hardness had eased a little on the drive over but there was still a substantial bulge, which John did not miss has his gaze swept over him.
“Need some help with that?”
Bruce nodded, pushing past him into the apartment and then lent to John, kissing him firmly but gently, more gentle than he felt.
Bruce was insistent, driving them to his goals of being:
In bed
Naked
Ready to fuck
John matched his hunger, frantically going through his bedside drawer and throwing out everything that was not condoms and lube until he found what he was looking for. His task was not made easier by Bruce trailing open mouthed kisses along his torso and sucking his cock to full hardness. John gave himself over to Bruce’s attentions for a few minutes before he threw the lube at his head and told him to get busy. Bruce was almost too cranked to prep John properly, working him open quickly. John was stretched out face down on the mattress, which helped Bruce pretend it wasn’t him he was fucking, but John was talkative and his singsong Liverpool accent was so far removed from Hal’s Californian drawl he briefly contemplated gagging him, before rejecting the idea as somewhat rude. Bruce rolled the condom on himself and then sank into John. He gave him a moment to adjust and then set a brutal rhythm, yanking John up by the hips and slamming in and out. He would probably leave bruises. He couldn’t bring himself to care and John could certainly stop him if he wanted to.
Afterwards John watched him get dressed as he smoked a cigarette. A “fag” John had called it the first time he’d offered Bruce one, the British slang term causing momentary confusion. Bruce would often stay and smoke with John after sex, but tonight he needed to get away.
John blew out a long stream of smoke, “What’s got into you this evening?”
“Nothing.” Bruce’s voice was rough, sounding much more like Batman. John barked out a laugh at that, “Yeah, it’s like we’ve never fucking met. Whatever Bruce, I’m not signing up to be your fucking therapist. Feel free to come over whenever - it’s not like I object to you taking it out on my arse.” Bruce shrugged on a jacket and let himself out letting the cold night air wash over him.
Bruce stood under the shower and let the jets pummel him into submission, washing away the deficiency and despair of the evening. He had failed to identify his actual target on the surveillance footage, failed to restrain himself from invading Jordan’s privacy, failed to control his unreciprocated desires and come away reeking of failure and the wrong man.
———
In the following weeks, Bruce found himself more and more distracted by thoughts of Hal Jordan when he wasn’t with him, and found it difficult to focus in his presence. Fucking his way across the East coast made no difference. It was a distraction he couldn’t afford, and he decided that cold turkey was the way to go - some time off world would allow him to regain his equilibrium. He had been meaning to get out to Delphi Five to follow up on some arms dealing the League had detected there, well this was the perfect time. Telling Clark and Alfred he’d be gone for 5 days, or a week at absolute most he set off, pleased with his plan. Yes, it was true that he would normally check in with Hal before he went to an alien planet, just to see if there was any Corps intel he needed to be aware of, but the Delphi quadrant was generally a peaceful area, and since the whole purpose of this mission was to get away from Hal, he took the executive decision that he could skip that process.
Hal was in the Watchtower canteen thoughtfully chewing on a pop tart Clark had obligingly toasted for him with his laser vision.
“So where was Captain Darkness today?”
“Bruce?”
“Who else? He doesn’t normally miss an opportunity to torture us with boring League briefings, speaking of which, you keeping it short today was much appreciated by the way, Big Blue.”
“He’s away for a few days.”
“Oh yeah? Yatch in the Caribbean?”
Clark snorted. “Hardly, some urgent mission in the Delphi quadrant.”
Hal dropped his pop tart.
“What did you say?”
“He’s off in the Delphi quadrant. Some reconnaissance or something.” Clark considered Hal’s concerned face and sudden pallor.
“Is that a problem?”
“When did he go? Like is there a chance he’s not got there yet?”
“No, he’s been gone a few days, Hal, what’s wrong?”
“Fucking Transexandemic flu is what’s wrong. The whole quadrant is locked down. If he’s managed to make it in, he won’t make it out. And it’s contagious as fuck.”
Clark frowned, “How serious is it?”
“Clark, we don’t know the impact on humans because it’s not made it to Earth, but in other life forms…..it’s serious, right. It’s… bad.”
Clark’s voice was firm.
“How bad Hal?”
Hal looked at the floor “About a 20% survival rate.”
“Shit.” He thought for a moment. “What can be done?”
“I don’t know. Let me think. Why the fuck didn’t he speak to me before he took off? He normally checks in if he’s going off world.”
“I don’t know, Hal. He seemed pretty anxious to be gone. I didn’t ask why,”
“Fucking fascist cock nob. Why does he always think he knows best, even on fucking inter planetary issues, which he knows Jack shit about!”
“Hal, what can we do?”
Hal scrubbed at his face. “If I beg, the Lantern corps might grant me permission to bring him back here for medical treatment. If he’s not already dead.”
The cloaking system on the Javelin had managed to get him onto Delphi Five and yes, he had been right - with so much distance between him and Hal he felt he could breathe a little easier. There were no reminders of Hal anywhere, no chance of an unexpected meeting, not having to compose himself to get through League meetings and avoiding all the communal areas where Hal hung out. He had taken to wearing his cowl the whole time he was on the Watchtower as he was grateful for his face being covered and eyes obscured by lenses - he was sure he was gazing at Hal like a puppy dog when he forgot himself.
After he had been on Delphi Five for two days his joints were aching and his eyes were burning. He put it down to long days and exhaustion of travel. At the end of day 3 he acknowledged he might have a cold. He told himself he would travel back earlier than planned, before he felt too ill to fly. When he woke up on day four he realised he had made a grave error of judgement - this was no cold. He could barely move, his eyes were streaming, it was hard to take a breath and he was running a fever. He crawled across the javelin the gather up water supplies and then huddled back in his bunk, wrapped in his cape because he could not get warm. He idly wondered which of the Robins he had caught flu from.
It took nearly a week of serious negotiations with the Lantern corps for Hal to get permission for his plan. He finally convinced them that permitting Batman of Earth to die while forbidding any rescue event would result in poor relations with the League. Their conditions were simple - only Hal, who as a Green Lantern had been vaccinated (or whatever the fuck the Oan equivalent was) was allowed to enter and leave the Delphi quadrant and he was allowed to bring Bruce to the Watchtower under strict quarantine. No other living creature was allowed any contact with Bruce until 2 weeks after he was completely asymptomatic.
“If the human survives” added Ganthanet, with indifference.
“Fuck you” thought Hal.
Hal headed off from Oa, blasting through space he made it to the Delphi quadrant in hours. Now he was closer he could use League tech to locate the Javelin. Of course there was no guarantee that’s where Bruce was, but it was a start. Finding it on a deserted cliff top, Hal climbed in and looked around. He called out for Bruce with no response. He headed to the bunks and found him where he’d collapsed days before.
“Bruce. Fuck.” The man looked like hell. His breathing was shallow, his skin was grey and his lips were blue and cracked.
“Bruce.” The man didn’t rouse. Hal called him name again and jostled him slightly. Bruce moaned softly. Hal got his arm under him and propped him up slightly, bringing a water bottle to his lips. He managed to get a little water into him and then decided the priority was getting out of there. He grabbed some of the emergency oxygen and settled a mask on Bruce, explaining the plan as he did it even though he was not at all sure Bruce could hear him. When he’d finished, Hal went to the cockpit and flew like a bat out of hell.
Leslie had set up everything she could think of on the med bay. She had argued furiously with Hal that she would provide Bruce’s care and had never really experienced being blocked by a Lantern’s force of will before.
“Do you understand the only basis on which I am being permitted to attempt this is that I am the only living thing that has contact with Bruce? Do you understand that the Corps will hold me personally responsible if this virus gets out? And do you understand that if you are exposed to this you will almost certainly fucking DIE?!”
On landing at the Watchtower, Hal carried Bruce to the med bay (using a stretcher construct because being near death for a week had not stopped the man being built like a brick shit house, thank you very much) and examined everything that had been prepared. He got Bruce’s vitals hooked up so Leslie could monitor remotely and then got an oxygen mask on him as a priority. Leslie directed him how to insert cannulas and drips and Hal was desperately inexpert. Finally Bruce had every intervention that human medicine could give him and all they could do was wait.
Over the next few days Bruce’s life hung in the balance and Hal wiped his brow and replaced drips, exercised his legs, and did whatever he could to feel like he was doing something. He talked to Bruce the whole time, and imagined him replying in a growl, “Lantern, the sound of your incessant chatter is hardly likely to make me cling to life.”
Hal smiled at the thought of it, “Bruce come on, get strong enough to argue with me. Tell me to fuck off. Come on.” The only response was the slow beep of Bruce’s heart monitor. Hal wanted to cry, and wasn’t his timing just perfect. For so many years they had fought and he had railed against Bruce’s direction. He hadn’t realised what he had come to mean to him, what the spark between them really was. Of course he had always known that Bruce was handsome, from the first moment Batman had removed his cowl and growled some order at him and he’d thought “oh wow, Spooky is smoking hot!”, he’d always been pragmatic about the fact Bruce was gorgeous and if he’d shown a flicker of interest, Hal would have been all over that. He had realised how much he’d come to care for Bruce though, as a person, not just a potential bang. The thought now, the idea of a world without Bruce was….unthinkable. The idea of Clark delivering every briefing instead. His stomach turned at the very concept. No, he would not, could not, let it happen. Why the fuck hadn’t Bruce spoken to him before he took off? Bruce rarely did interplanetary missions on his own and never, ever without checking in for any Lantern intel before he left. Why hadn’t he this time? Hal fiddled with a drip and brought a fresh cloth to wipe Bruce’s face, his hands, anything that might make him slightly more comfortable, slightly more able to fight this disease.
Bruce was under the careful hands-on care of Hal for over a week, with Leslie keeping a close eye via monitors. Bruce slipped in and out of consciousness. The Batfamily assembled on the Watchtower and spoke to him over the monitors. On the rare occasions he was awake he was barely lucid, he cried out for Jason and tugged at his oxygen mask and IVs. Hal moved his hands away and soothed him until he settled down, slipping back into darkness and Hal hoped it was less distressing for him and that he was better able to rest and fight for his life.
Finally, finally Bruce turned a corner. Hal was asleep on a cot nearby in the medbay when he heard the movement and leapt up. Bruce’s eyes were more focused than he’d seen them, and of course he was pulling at his oxygen mask and IVs a-fucking-gain.
“Bruce, you need to leave those alone, Ok? Bruce, I’ll explain what’s going on, but you need to leave those alone, Ok?” Bruce stopped fighting him which he took as consent.
“You’ve been really sick. You caught Transexandemic flu when you were doing something in the Delphi quadrant. Actually, that reminds me we need to have a chat about you taking off to parts of the galaxy without checking what’s going on because do you have any idea how many favors I had to call in to be allowed to rescue you and not to leave you to die?”
Bruce raised his eyebrows slightly at that. “Anyway, I brought you back here and you’ve been here about 10 days. Leslie has been supervising me digitally because both of us are under strict quarantine until 2 weeks after you are symptom free so I am going to have plenty of time to answer all of your questions. And a really long game of ‘Risk’.”
“How come you can be here?” Bruce rasped.
“Oh, the Corps were all vaccinated against it. Which, may I point out again has worked out pretty well for you.”
Bruce was silent at that. At least 2 weeks quarantined with the object of his obsession, who he’d caught this flu trying to run away from. Really, you could choke on the irony.
———
Of course, hours after properly regaining consciousness, Bruce decided he wanted to try a few tentative steps, but staggered immediately. Hal rushed to his side to prop him up. He could feel Hal’s breath on his cheek and was suddenly very aware that he was almost certainly not very fragrant. Hal gripped him strongly around his waist, holding him close and helping him to the bathroom. He refused Hal’s assistance in there, and compromised on not locking the door. He brushed his teeth several times, splashed his face and then realised he was exhausted. Staggering back through the door, Hal helped him back into bed. Alfred had prepared broth and Hal helped him to eat a little. The next day he felt well enough to sit on a stool in the shower and get washed, with Hal calling out to him every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t collapsed. Day three he was walking steadier and eating small amounts of solid food. Eating seemed to please Hal so he applied himself to it.
“C’mon, you need to eat something, you are not a small guy and you need to get your strength up.” Hal had coaxed that morning.
In the first few days, there was so much physical contact - it was sweet torture. Hal was close by his side whenever he was on the move in case his legs gave way as they had the first time. Initially he had to help feed Bruce who was too weak to co ordinate himself. Bruce was grateful he was too weak to react to Hal’s touch as he would under normal circumstances. Pornographic images of the surveillance footage of Hal at the club kept running through his head. Hal would smile at him, and he’d suddenly remember what that beautiful mouth looked like moaning his pleasure, or wrapped around a cock. After a few more days, he didn’t need physical assistance any more. He didn’t know whether to feel relief or loss.
———
Bruce was speaking to Damian over his laptop. Damian was loudly complaining about his math and physics tutor, who Bruce was doing his best to defend.
“Mrs Sinclair has an excellent reputation Damian, and James’s father said she worked wonders with him..”
“James is an ignoramus.”
“Damian, that’s not how we..”
“And besides,” Damian interrupted with his clear, imperious tone, “I have been making excellent progress with the Green Lantern - he explains things much more clearly and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind spending some time on Astro physics with me, i have questions about nebulas and he has actually flown through them so I think..”
“Damian, the Green Lantern is quite busy enough. You will use the tutor I have engaged and apply yourself to your studies!”
Damian logged off scowling. Bruce was well aware that Hal was lurking, pretending not to have heard that exchange. Hal stepped tentatively into the room and Bruce looked up at him and there was something about the fall of that chestnut hair and Hal sweeping it out of his face that hit Bruce with a rush - he was not just attracted to Hal Jordan, he was in love with him. Possibly had been for some time. The sudden realisation made his chest collapse for a moment, and when he spoke his voice sounded tight.
“So you’ve been teaching my son physics?”
Hal looked sheepish, “I know it’s not really my place, but he kept pinging the monitors to check in on you and said he needed you to wake up because he needed to discuss this, and I remember hating math and physics at his age and I thought I might be able to help him, and y’know, help take his mind off things for a while. So yeah. Sorry. I guess I really overstepped there?”
Bruce massaged his temples while he took in Hal’s confession, clearly mistaking the tightness in his voice for anger and not a life changing moment of self awareness.
“So, as well as doing a rescue mission to the Delphi quadrant in order to save my life and then taking weeks out of your job which I suspect was already hanging by a thread given how often you have to be off world, to nurse me and be in quarantine with me, you decide to pass the time by helping my son?”
Hal looked slightly confused - like he wasn’t sure where this was going.
“Hal, how can I ever repay you for what you’ve done?”
“Bruce, are you kidding me? There’s no League without you. You created it, you designed the Watchtower, you fund everything, you lead us. And you’ve got kids and other responsibilities and shit. This is nothing. The least I could do.”
Bruce found he didn’t know what to say to that. He was hatching a plan though, he figured Carol wouldn’t be planning to pay Hal for this time, but also wouldn’t mind being made to look generous. At least he could make sure Hal wasn’t out of pocket for saving his life.
Bruce found the remaining days of quarantine sweet agony. He relished being around Hal, having his undivided attention. The two of them talked more in those few days than they ever had in the years before. Previously he’d been irritated by Hal’s blatantly exaggerated stories of fighting space monsters and alien armies, but now he found himself entertained. And Bruce discovered he enjoyed making Hal laugh, which was a new experience for both of them. So yes, he relished the forced intimacy of the situation, the ability to pretend that this was real, that ‘Bruce and Hal’ was a thing. But he was also desperately conscious of the time ticking down and the reality that when this little bubble in time was over, they would go back to their old pattern of avoidance and bickering, only now with the unbearably sweet knowledge of what Hal looked like when he slept (10 years younger) or how he was indeed insufferably cheerful first thing in the morning (“it’s Air Force training man, it never leaves you”).
———
Bruce and Dick were chatting, Dick filling him in on the news he was missing.
“So there’s speculation about why Bruce Wayne has disappeared from the social scene. The smart money is on rehab.”
Bruce rumbled a laugh at that.
“They’re not far wrong. Alfred and Leslie seem to be conspiring to keep our supplies free of scotch and coffee. I’ll be a paragon of virtue when I’m out of quarantine.”
It was Dick’s turn to smile at that. “Wow, no coffee for what, nearly 3 weeks now? Y’know, perhaps you didn’t have trans….whatever flu. Perhaps after a few days without caffeine on Delphi Five, Hal mistook your withdrawal symptoms for a deadly illness.”
“Plausible.”
Dick took an obnoxious swig from a coffee cup about the size of a third grader. Bruce was about to say something when he noticed the smudges under Dick’s eyes.
“You look tired.”
“Oh just been putting some extra hours in on patrol.” Dick’s casual tone made Bruce want to know more. So he just sat in silence and waited.
“I felt given Brucie’s high profile absence, that Batman ought to make a few appearances.”
Bruce nodded at the justice of that, though secretly he was aggrieved at anyone but him driving the Batmobile.
“Thank you.”
———
“So, two weeks is up. We are out of quarantine.”
Bruce looked up, his stomach turning over at the thought they were done, but he kept his face a polite mask. “Thank you again Hal.”
“Bruce, seriously, it’s not a big deal.”
“It very much is.”
“OK then, it was my pleasure. Also self preservation - I don’t want to know what Damian would have done to me if I’d let you die. That kid of yours is seriously scary.”
“Oh absolutely, but it’s Dick you really have to watch out for.”
“Really? Nightwing always seems like such a cool guy.”
“Exactly why he’s the most dangerous- you’d expect it least coming from him. I promise you he could break your arm before you could even lift your ring.”
“Noted. And with that warning I won’t keep you from your army of lethal ninjas any longer - they’ve all zeta’d here to bring you home, so don’t keep them waiting.”
Bruce extended his hand. “Thank you. Sincerely. If there is anything I can do to return the favor, let me know.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed on patrol tonight, Spooky.”
Hal watched him go with a wry smile.
———
Bruce was in the cave. The computer was crunching some data and he was staring into space and thinking about his quarantine with Hal. He turned soft memories round his head - of Hal smiling at some story he’d told about the family, or squeezing his shoulder casually when he went to get a drink and Bruce feeling the warmth of that hand for much longer than was possible. Hal had messaged a few times to see how he was doing but gave no other signs of missing Bruce. Of course he had a busy life that he was probably catching up with having missed weeks being Bruce’s nursemaid. He probably didn’t want to see or hear from Bruce again for months. Bruce would happily spend another couple of weeks with him - after all he’d been unconscious for a large chunk of it and then too weak to enjoy much of the rest of it. He wondered what Hal had been like as a carer when he’d been out of it.
It was an idle thought, but once it had taken root, he couldn’t dislodge it. Really, it was him in the med bay, and he couldn’t invade his own privacy could he? So once again he found himself pulling up surveillance footage of Hal.
“Lockdown cave.”
He started watching from the beginning, saw Hal using the ring to lift him into bed, hooking him up to IVs and making him comfortable. He watched Hal wipe his face and give him bed baths and turn him and exercise his legs and carefully brush the fall of hair from his face . He wanted to weep at the gentleness of it. Watched him curled up on the cot in Bruce’s room, snatching sleep when he could, those ridiculously long eye lashes fanned out across his cheeks. Some nights, when Bruce was particularly restless, he slept in a chair next to Bruce’s bed so he could sooth him and stop him tugging out his IVs straight away. As the footage went on he saw Hal get more frustrated- watched him kick a trash can across the room at one point, shouting in frustration at Bruce’s mute passive form. When his rage had burnt out, Hal sank to the floor and sobbed. Bruce felt a twinge of guilt being a voyeur to this private grief, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away - perhaps Hal Jordan cared about him much more deeply than he’d ever let himself hope. And once, just once, Hal placed a tender kiss on Bruce’s forehead and brushed his cheek before moving on to his next task. Something nobody would ever know, unless they had every inch of the Watchtower under surveillance. Bruce’s stomach flipped. He rewound the footage and watched it three or four times. Then stood up soundlessly and drove to the hall of justice, and then zeta’d to California.
Hal was eating take out and watching the game when there was a knock on the door. When he opened it he could not have been more surprised to see Bruce, and Bruce was looking mouth watering in a tight t shirt that showed off his arms. His casual look probably cost more than this apartment, but Hal sure appreciated the view. He realised he’d been stood there in silence and probably with his tongue hanging out when Bruce said “Can I come in?”
“Sure”. Hal stood aside and gestured him in. He wished he was wearing something better than his old sweats and t shirt. Bruce looked around his apartment and then sat down on the couch.
“Want a drink?”
Bruce accepted a beer and Hal sat down next to him. Bruce was still looking at him oddly.
“So, to what do I owe the honour?”
“I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me.”
“Pretty sure I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done. And you’ve already thanked me, Spooky.”
Bruce smiled at the nickname.
“I’ve been thinking about what you must have done when I was unconscious - how you must have taken care of me, real physical care, and I’m grateful.”
“Ok, well, you’re welcome. Want to finish watching the game with me?”
“Not really.”
Hal was startled by this, which was frank, even for Bruce.
“Oh, what did you come for then?”
“This.”
Bruce leaned slowly toward Hal, telegraphing his intent. He saw Hal’s eyes widen and then he seemed to be holding his breath. He slid his hand to the back of Hal’s neck and watched his eyes drift closed at the contact. He closed the final distance between them and brushed his lips against Hal’s - that’s all it was, the most featherlight of kisses. And then he pulled back, to look at Hal again. Could he permit himself to study him now, to truly acknowledge how beautiful the man was?
“Bruce.” Hal’s voice was a whisper. “Bruce, this is not something you have to do to thank me, I mean, I had no idea you were interested in men at all, or me or...”. Hal was aware he was babbling and Bruce was just looking at him with an amused expression.
“Let me show you how interested I am.”
Bruce dove back to Hal’s mouth and kissed him less gently this time. Hal’s mouth opened with a moan and then they were both kissing with intent, trying to crawl inside each other, hands sliding under clothes and pressing against each other until it was hard to breathe. Hal pulled off panting, and Bruce started kissing his long neck, and took the opportunity to pull Hal’s t shirt off. He knocked him backwards on to the couch and was then mouthing across his collar bone and down his chest, pausing to explore his nipples, which got a bit of a reaction but was clearly not the key for Hal. A few moments later he discovered that Hal went crazy when the soft skin of his hips was kissed, and wasn’t that a thing to know? He was tugging at Hal’s sweat pants now, following the trail of golden brown hair from Hal’s abdomen and Hal was squirming and laughing underneath him.
“Hey, hey, you’re still fully dressed.” Hal protested. Laying his palms on Bruce’s chest he held him still for a moment, and then pulled Bruce’s t shirt off. He sucked in a breath at the sight of Bruce.
“You know you are fucking magnificent, right?”
Bruce cast his glance away at that, as Hal was perfectly proportioned in a way he was not. Hal was tall and packed with lean muscle, whereas he had a stocky, serviceable body. Some of that must have shown in his face because Hal cupped his cheek and murmured “Magnificent.” before kissing him thoroughly. Hal slid his hand to Bruce’s crotch and felt the considerable bulge there. He rubbed a bit and Bruce groaned, thrusting into that warm, inviting hand.
“Oh yeah, you’re cranked.”
“Hal.” Bruce’s voice was thin and needy and sounded alien to him.
“Right here babe.” Bruce’s stomach gave a little flip of pleasure at hearing that endearment directed at him.
Hal rubbed Bruce harder, then yanked his jeans and underwear down at the same time. Bruce’s cock sprang free and Hal started fisting it, just jerking him off, right there in the living room with his take out still perched on the coffee table. He was panting in Bruce’s ear, and Bruce was arching up and making these noises which didn’t even sound human, and then, so much more quickly than normal, he was cumming, arching like a bow and soaking Hal’s hand. They were both panting. Bruce’s brain was taking a moment to come back online when he saw Hal shoving his sweat pants down and then falling on Bruce to rut against his soft cock and balls, wet from his orgasm just moments ago. Bruce wrapped his arms around Hal, felt the warmth radiating from that broad back, and heard the noises Hal was babbling in his ear “You feel so good, does this feel good to you babe, oh god oh god…” and then Hal was climaxing. He was painting Bruce’s cock and stomach with his cum because apparently he wanted Bruce so much he couldn’t last. Bruce gave a shudder at it and his spent cock twitched up against Hal’s body. Hal collapsed on top of him, smearing them both with their combined fluids and Bruce could not have been happier about the whole situation.