#"s.

Can you give me... A reason to live?

18+, mdni (just like my whole blog!).

Trigger warnings for PTSD.

~

Give, for sure. Jason was deprived of so many senses when he was kidnapped, and going down on you is sensory overload in the best of ways: the feeling of your thighs on either side of Jason's head, the sound of your moans in his ears, your taste on his tongue. It's wonderful to him. He can't get enough of it.

Receiving, on the other hand... I'm probably in the minority with this, but in all honesty, I think Jason would really struggle with getting head. It's something you'd have to work up to doing regularly, because I think Jason would, in a way, view the act as violent. There's so much healing he has to do after his ordeal with Joker, and that's at its most apparent in both sexual and non-sexual intimacy.

To be clear, Jason doesn't have reservations in the beginning; he already loves your mouth. It's one of the softest parts of you, and while it isn't easy for him to accept affection, it helps when you offer. Jason knows, deep down, you wouldn't give him something unless you wanted to.

And so, when you do bring it up, Jason says yes. Of course he does. He's nervous but excited as you guide him to the old couch in your apartment, help him shuck his sweats off. He's hard just by the idea of what you're about to do, bucking into your palm. You're gentle with him, rubbing circles into the meat of his thigh with your thumb and pressing kisses up his shaft, a small smile on your lips when his breath catches. Feather light, you give the head the ghost of a kiss before catching Jason's eye one more time, and then you swallow him.

Jason does fine until he decides to watch you and sees how hard your jaw has to work to take him. Where other men might let it go to their head - your effort proof of their size - or maybe revere you because you're working so hard to please them, Jason perceives the heaviness of his cock on your tongue as trying to put something where it doesn't fit. And that's a feeling he remembers all too well: rope tied too tight in the indents of his wrists, a crowbar between his ribs. The gag you make when his tip touches the back of your throat, the little cough when you come up for air - he doesn't like those sounds. They're indicative of something invasive. Jason doesn't want to be the cause of that.

He'll pull away from you, vision blurring as he tries to figure out what's wrong, why he's reacting like this. He locks himself in your room, the one you've been kind enough to share with him, and he shakes, bile on his tongue as he thinks the image of your throat bulging with him. Jason cries like that, alone and confused, nursing his still-hard cock. It's miserable. He can't comprehend how something that feels so good can seem so wrong.

Jason doesn't know what to say when you come knocking. He has no excuse, and he's wondering if he should leave, bite the bullet and give you the chance to find someone who doesn't carry something awful on their shoulders. You deserve better than him. Leaving is the best thing he can do for you, and he assumes you're angry anyway, who wouldn't be, who hasn't been with him?

But when you open your mouth, nothing ugly comes out. You just say you're sorry, and that Jason doesn't have to do it again. You ask if you can touch him, try to give him some comfort - you and those offers, freely giving Jason so, so much. He doesn't know what to do with your kindness. But then, there's only two options: accept it, or don't.

Jason will follow you to bed, hold you and whisper apologies in your ear that you didn't ask for. He says he's sorry for what he did and how he reacted. Sorry for being the way he is, and not being able to stop it.

You aren't interested in any of it, but Jason needs to get it out of his system, so you let him talk before telling him he didn't do anything wrong. You repeat it until he's asleep.