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Roy is very acutely aware that he’s not the best fish in the sea, okay? He knows he’s got his fair share of trauma and that most of the screws in his head are fairly fucking loose. But at least he’s aware, right?
This? This is new.
Because Jesus fucking Christ, he’s getting a semi watching his best friend clean a gun.
It’s not like Roy hasn’t seen Jason do this hundreds of times before; making sure he has enough rounds and the safeties are on before holstering them into his back, chest, arms and ankle. But he’s never really paid attention, too busy with his own equipment and too uninterested to actually watch what Jason’s doing.
He’s watching now, though.
The handguns—his prized possessions, he calls them—are gleaming in his lap with care and precision as he slowly wipes the gun residue and flecks of blood off with a rag.
His fingers follow the path, up and back down the length of the gun once, twice, and then clicking off the safety just once before flicking it back up. Like a dare.
He feels for every ridge softly, pressing down on the small, almost imperceptible nick at the very end of the barrel, tongue just barely sticking out in concentration. Jason knows guns. He knows how they work, how to make them work for him. They’re extensions of himself, clear and unflinching in their execution. Unfortunately, Roy realizes a minute too late that he’s been standing there staring a beat too long at his hands.
And the thing is, Jason’s perceptive. Very perceptive. An (un)fortunate side effect of being involved with the Bat family. He knows when someone is watching him, even from miles away. He’s always had the instinct of a detective—like father like son, Oliver would say.
And Roy isn’t stupid. He notices the way Jason smirks at him after a particularly long training session that ends with Roy on top of him, panting a little harder than he should be.
He’s looking at him like that right now, a grin as he’s watching Roy mouth go slack at the scene he’s creating. He only has half his armor on—having just come back from patrol—arms bare and bulging out from the armored vest.
Have his arms always been so big? Jesus, he wants to lick them.
His eyes trail back down towards the desert eagle balanced on his thigh, playing with the bullets in his hand.
“See something you like?”
Roy shivers at the low tone in his voice. His eyes trail up from the gun to see Jason staring up at him from his chair, looking downright sinful. His hair is still messy and untamed from the helmet, eyes glinting a grey-green and a stupidly smug look on his face that Roy always wants to kiss off.
He moves closer, standing between Jason’s spread legs, and leans down to grip the arms of the chair the younger man is sitting on. He can play this game.
“Will you let me do something about it if I said yes?”
He feels the edge of the gun on his knee, and fuck if that isn’t doing something to him. Jason’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity, eyes darting around his face in the initial shock to settle on his lips. They've been dancing around this one for months, if he's being honest.
His eyes soften as he looks back up to meet Roy's, nodding slowly as he parts his lips ever so slightly and tilts up to meet the archer looming over him. His hands come around to tangle themselves in Roy’s hair, and he pulls, hard. His groan is only swallowed up as Jason keeps pressing him down into him.
Despite the uncomfortable position, he only comes up for breath when he absolutely has to, entranced by Jason's mouth. He thinks of all the times he's thought about this; all the training sessions that ended with him in the shower jerking off, or each time Jason would grab him by his waist instead of letting him pounce on the guy they had for questioning.
He pants a little as he looks down and fuck, he’s totally fucked in the head. The gun remains perfectly balanced in Jason’s lap, right alongside the tent in his pants.
And Roy wants to suck it.
Roy really, really, wants to suck it.
Jason goes to move the gun from his lap, and before he can even think, Roy grabs his wrist to still his hand before he can move it anywhere. The younger man looks up at him, eyes questioning. He shakes his head.
“Leave it.” He croaks, a few octaves lower than he expected it to be.
A beat passes, Jason groaning at the implication and nods frantically.
Roy gets on his knees slowly, still in between Jason’s thighs. Fuck, those thighs drive him absolutely insane.
“You tell me to stop and I stop, okay?” He slowly runs his hands up on the inside of Jason’s thighs.
“Okay?” He stops midway, pressing and looking up expectantly.
Jason's hazy stare drops at the words when he nods, eagerly.
“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” He squeezes his thighs, hard. He feels the twitch of his leg and smirks.
“Yeah,” he breathes, heavy. “Yes.”
“Good job.” Roy smirks internally at the aborted buck of the younger man’s hips at his words. Noted.
His hands are dangerously close to Jason’s crotch, but he hasn’t touched him yet. Slowly, he reaches for Jason’s hand, guides him to the gun still on his lap.
“I-“ he licks his lips, looking back up at Jason hesitantly.
“I wanna suck it.”
Jason’s eyes widen in shock for a split second, and then he’s gripping Roy’s hair and pulling him up to kiss him all over again, tongue licking into the heat of his mouth and moaning. He breaks the kiss after a period and nods.
“Yeah, yes. Okay.”
He makes quick work of the gun; unlatching and disposing of any bullets, taking the mag out and keeping the safety on. Roy watches him do this in approximately two and a half seconds, hands deft and trained and oh god, Roy is mesmerized.
And then it’s right back in his lap, positioned exactly the way it was before, and Roy lurches down to press a kiss on the inside of Jason’s thigh, right next to where the gun is sitting. He feels the cold metal against his cheek, and looks up to see Jason captivated by the archer on his knees in front of him. The chair he’s sitting on creaks as his hands tighten on the handles, clearly trying to preserve some semblance of control as he watches Roy get ever so close to his hardening length.
“God, Roy. You-” he stutters as Roy presses another kiss on his thigh, higher up.
“You’re beautiful.”
The compliment makes him blush despite himself as he makes his way back to where the gun is placed. He lets out a quiet moan as he watches the archer licks his way up from the base of the gun slowly, maintaining eye contact with the younger man as he swirls his tongue across the tip of the barrel.
Jason still has his cargos on, which is a damn shame. So in return, he lets himself get a little sloppy with it, saliva dripping out from his mouth and wetting the fabric underneath. He smirks when he feels the almost impercepitble twitch of the muscle under him.
He tastes the burnt edges of gun oil and metal as he takes the barrel fully into his mouth, moaning as the scent of Jason surrounds him. He noses at his thigh to give him permission, which Jason takes happily. He releases his hands from the handles and grips the handle of the gun, stabilising as Roy gets more enthusiastic with sucking. He lets it drip down the length of the gun as Jason just barely pushes it in, watching with awe as Roy takes it down with pleasure.
There's a certain rush that comes with it, too. The power a gun wields, of that weight; warm and insistent when it's pressed to your head by some madman. Having a weapon like that in your mouth. There's a danger there that sends a shiver down Roy's spine as Jason gets more confident, finger next to the trigger despite the magazine being on the table beside them. It makes Roy roll his eyes to the back of his head as Jason's other hand comes down to grab at his hair, gentle but pushing him even further down. His head is spinning, eyes barely focusing as Jason watches Roy become pliable in his hands.
"Fuck. You like that?"
He whispers into the empty room. Roy nods in response, moaning as the grip on his head gets minutely tighter. The tent in both their pants do not go unnoticed, and Roy has half a mind to just get himself off by humping Jason's leg.
Instead, Jason's pulling him off the gun and dragging him by his hair to devour him all over again, lips tangling in a heated mess. He can feel the desperation in the kiss, his hands all over his face, neck, arms, pulling Roy as close as he possibly can.
He has to pull back to get air again, gasping a little as Jason's whines.
"Shh, shh, baby." He presses his lips against his cheek, his nose. Slowly memorizing every features. Pressing small kitten licks onto the edges of his lips, chuckling as the younger man chases after it.
"What do you want, baby? You gotta tell me how you want me." He's giving Jason control here. He knows Jason, knows he doesn't like not knowing what comes next.
"Please, Ro-." He groans as the archer goes back to attacking Jason's neck. "I want-"
"Yeah?" He tilts his head, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"I want your mouth on me." It takes him a second to get the sentence out, closing his eyes as he whispers it, a prayer from his lips.
"Oh, baby." He coos.
Roy presses a kiss on his eyelids, slow and gentle and feels a shiver run through his body. It occurs to him them that Jason hasn't had someone touch him like this in a long, long time. His eyes briefly flick to the scar on his neck, skin tight and risen in its last stretch of healing, it brings a wave of heartbreak over him. He leans back down to kiss him once on the lips; a soft, sweet touch.
"Yeah, we can do that."
He's back down on the haunches of his legs, eye level with Jason's crotch as he slowly undoes the belt. Jason watches, eyes flicking between the archer's face and his hands. He's reverent as he makes his way through the fabric, slowly pressing his palm into the heat of his length and listening to the moan that leaves the younger man's lips in response.
This is not at all how he thought it would go, but by god he is so fucking glad it did. Roy is well aware that he's a little bit of a slut—if anything, the way he ended up in this situation only further proves his point—but he's so entranced by the man in front of him that he thinks he would do just about anything to watch him come.
And yeah, they've been dancing around this for a long, long time, The small touches around his waist when he walks by him, or his soft gaze when Roy talks about Lian, or even the stupid flirting they do with each other that doesn't go anywhere. But Jason is too important to him. So, he'll take only what he gives to him and he'll hold on it.
He looks back up as he finally gets his hand on his cock, lifting it out of his boxers and already violently red and leaking. He uses the slick to make the slide better, pumping his hand up and down the—frankly, massive (Jesus, what didn't the Lazarus Pit give him?)—length and watching as the expression on his face contort in pleasure.
Roy has always had more fun giving than he ever did receiving, but this? God, he thinks he could come untouched just by watching Jason alone.
He can see every quiver of his thighs, the moans he keeps trying to muffle as Roy finally, finally gets his mouth on him. He can feel the way Jason's thighs, gripped beneath his fingers tense as Roy presses his tongue into the head of his cock.
He groans, the sound reverberating throughout his entire body and making Roy moan into his cock in response. Only when Roy prompts him does he get his hands on the archer's hair, not pulling or pushing but gripping tight at the base of his skull, making Roy moan around his cock.
"That's g-good. Yeah." The younger man breathes out.
Roy smirks a little as he quickens his pace, moving up and down the shaft, hands gripping his thighs for purchase as he takes him in all in one go.
God, he's big. He presses into a vein protruding on the underside of his cock that has Jason whimpering into the otherwise empty room,
"Please, please, Roy. Please."
"Ah-ah, fuck." He bucks his hips up erratically, and Roy lets him take control as he keeps his mouth swallowing around him.
"Roy, I'm close."
It occurs to him then that he's asking for permission which sends a shot of pleasure right down to his own neglected cock. He pulls off for a second to ask,
"You want me to make you come like this, baby?"
He prompts, squeezing his thighs with his hands. He desperately wants to make Jason feel good, wants to watch and feel the younger break underneath as he makes him come. But Jason has rarely ever asked for anything—refuses to even tell Roy what he likes to eat. Instead he'll take what's been given, and never complain for anything. And Roy is going to rectify that.
So he'll sit and wait for an answer, and take whatever Jason is willing to give him.
He lowers one of his hands from his thigh to trace the inside with his fingers, teasing. His cock is painfully hard, and he's not above rutting into Jason's leg anymore. But his head is heavy with wanting to see Jason come. And he's going to see his mission through.
"Yes, please." He whines as he feels his fingertips trace lines up his cock, rutting into nothing as Roy continues to tease the younger man.
And well, how could he resist? He looks up at the man, eyes piercing.
"Good boy."
Roy dives back in to take all of him in his mouth, swallowing as he reaches the hilt and feels the coarse hair tickle his nose. He almost shouts at the sensation, hips bucking up and grabbing at his hair, pulling at the strands painfully. Roy just moans into him in response.
"R-Roy! Fuck. God, you-"
Roy takes that as his cue and presses into that vein again with the flat of his tongue, and then Jason's coming, thick ropes of white coating the inside of his throat.
He looks up to watch the scene, cock still in his mouth. The man he's on his knees for is flushed, red skin peeking out from the collar of his shirt as he pants, coming down from his orgasm. His eyes are glazed over, muscles relaxed against the chair he's sitting in.
Despite Roy revelling in the scene, he's painfully aware of his own erection now. His shorts are uncomfortably straining against them, and he twitches a little as he feels Jason's come in his mouth.
Jason focuses at the sudden movement, eyes back down to where Roy is squirming in between his lap
"C'mere." He makes for Roy to pull him up into his lap—which proves hard to do and Roy just ends up on one of Jason's thighs instead—and kisses him deeply as he urges him on, hands firmly planted on his ass. Roy takes the invitation and starts grinding against Jason's thigh (which frankly, is one of his favourite wet dreams come to life).
He can feel the way Jason's thigh tenses underneath him, and it makes him groan out as it hits him in just the right spot. He's so close when Jason moves one of his hands to press his finger against his hole, and then he's coming too, moaning into Jason's mouth as he makes a mess on both of their laps.
It takes them both a while to come back to it; both covered in dried sweat and come. Roy's mouth still has the metallic taste of gun oil, which tastes a little too close to blood for his comfort. He groans softly as he feels the uncomfortable mess in his shorts.
"We didn't even take off our clothes," Roy huffs. The younger man just chuckles in response, kissing the top of his head.
"There's always next time."
Feeling too dirty for his liking, he makes to get up off Jason's lap, kissing him softly.
"Well, I'm going to take a really nice, hot shower." He says against his lips.
"Would you like to join me?"
Jason's eyes widen in response as he nods and follows him inside.