Silver

"You have no sense of fun or whimsy!" Jon complained, once again grabbing at Damian's hands to try and place them by the seam between his face mask and bodysuit.

"What if someone sees?"

"I ran around without a mask as a kid, I'm sure seeing my lips won't lead to my identity being leaked,"

"But-"

"Damian, if you don't roll up my mask and kiss me right now, I'll break up with you,"

Damian's glare somehow strengthened, but after a couple of seconds he sighed and reached up to roll down the mask, the black fabric bunching together on the bridge of Jon's nose.

Jon has an intense look of concentration the whole time as he struggles not to use his powers, and when Damian notices he forces him to let go.

"You're holding back," Damian would say, accusingly as he glared at Jon whose brows were furrowed, muscles tight.

"I'm not- Ah- I'm-" Jon is steadily losing control, if not for the fact that he is with the love of his life then because this is Damian the most beautiful person in the world, whose body seems made for his pleasure just as much as it is made for battle.

"You are! I'm not made of glass, Jon," Damian is filled up to his throat and is still ready to stop this whole thing just to argue with Jon. His toes have been curled for the past hour, and his body feels like it has a million supernovas going off inside of him, but the pained look on Jon's face and the thought of him holding back to focus on Damian... he can't have that, this needs to be good, this needs to be good for both of them.

Jon loses focus for a second and suddenly every puff of breath leaves tiny crystallised snowflakes on Damian's skin, and his hands vibrate where they're holding on to Damian's waist at a frequency that is superhuman.

That's when Damian realises what Jon has been holding back. How Jon is high from pleasure and is losing control of the very thing he has had to keep a lid on since childhood.

Because of Damian.

It's a power trip, and before long he is doing everything in his power to make Jon lose control even more: clenching, thrusting back, being more vocal.

All of it drives Jon crazy and it's not long before they're floating off the bed, Jon covering Damian with his whole body so that every time they bump into the ceiling he is safe.

"I love you," Damian whispers into Jon's ear, his mind is blank and they're the only words he seems to be able to grasp onto. This isn't the first time he has said it, probably not even the hundredth time, but it still makes Jon short-circuit. Filling up the condom and slamming his back into the ceiling so dust comes down around them, painting Damian's chest with snowflakes that melt almost immediately, hands sparking with electricity as Damian tumbles over the edge with him.

Pressing, pressing, pressing.

A marble he couldn't move no matter how hard he tried, the surface of it too smooth to get a grip and the weight too heavy to move it with sheer strength.

If he was just a bit stronger, maybe if his hands were rougher with effort, or less slick with blood, he would be able to overcome the weight.

Overcome the gleaming black surface.

Instead, he was just trapped, completely alone, chest puffed up as he tried to make sure it wouldn't crush his lungs and body pulled tight.

His hands were shaking where he had them against the glossy black, smearing them with red.

If only he could just...

Suddenly the weight was gone, and he was instead being wrapped in warmth. Strong arms, blue and red filling up his vision, the Superman S.

Jon always knew when he needed him, but Damian had never been as thankful as he was now.

His arms trembled as he pressed them into Jon’s chest, feeling his heart beat against his palm.

There was no weight anymore, just Jon. Here, Damian was allowed to be weak and small, completely enveloped, invisible to anyone else.

He could cry and no one would know, he could lose all strength in his body and he would not fall.

Because Jon was there.

Jon with his broad shoulders that shadowed Damian's face, Jon with his tall stature that let him perfectly rest his chin on the top of Damian's head, Jon with his big hands that cradled Damian's head so carefully.

In moments like these there was no Damian.

Pressing, pressing, pressing.

A marble he couldn't move no matter how hard he tried, the surface of it too smooth to get a grip and the weight too heavy to move it with sheer strength.

If he was just a bit stronger, maybe if his hands were rougher with effort, or less slick with blood, he would be able to overcome the weight.

Overcome the gleaming black surface.

Instead, he was just trapped, completely alone, chest puffed up as he tried to make sure it wouldn't crush his lungs and body pulled tight.

His hands were shaking where he had them against the glossy black, smearing them with red.

If only he could just...

Suddenly the weight was gone, and he was instead being wrapped in warmth. Strong arms, blue and red filling up his vision, the Superman S.

Jon always knew when he needed him, but Damian had never been as thankful as he was now.

His arms trembled as he pressed them into Jon’s chest, feeling his heart beat against his palm.

There was no weight anymore, just Jon. Here, Damian was allowed to be weak and small, completely enveloped, invisible to anyone else.

He could cry and no one would know, he could lose all strength in his body and he would not fall.

Because Jon was there.

Jon with his broad shoulders that shadowed Damian's face, Jon with his tall stature that let him perfectly rest his chin on the top of Damian's head, Jon with his big hands that cradled Damian's head so carefully.

In moments like these there was no Damian.