32nd Batch Of Fics: 10th Fill
Bruce/Jason – continuation B31F4 – begging; crying; abo; hurt/comfort – Jason is wracked by heat pains after Bruce hadn’t knotted him. He needs it so badly...
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When Bruce gets back into his lavish bedroom after his shower and realises that someone has managed to sneak past his impenetrable security, his blood runs cold.
His body is taut within the blink of an eye, ready to fight, heart drumming against his ribcage before his head picks up on who it is that is rubbing themselves against the silk sheets on his bed.
He had not thought he would see Jason again this soon. His body warms in an instinctive response to seeing the Omega. Two days after their… encounter, the heat is still raging through Jason’s body; Bruce can see the flush easily.
The young man has somehow managed to get himself out of most of his clothes but is still wearing one sock and his underwear. The rest is strewn haphazardly in a more-or-less straight line from the cracked balcony door to the bed.
Bruce takes a step closer before thinking better of it and keeping his distance for now. Jason’s scent is curling through the air and tickling his nose already.
“Jason?” he asks softly, and the Omega on the bed freezes as if he had forgotten where he was. “What are you doing here?”
Jason is breathing so hard, Bruce can see his back moving with it; harsh in-and-outs as if he had run to Bruce’s mansion and just stumbled his way through the elaborate security. He doesn’t know if he should be concerned over a heating Omega being able to get through like this, or if he should be impressed that Jason had managed this level of functionality despite his current status.
“Jason…”
“Just get over here!” Jason’s voice breaks halfway through, slightly hysterical. He sounds like he is on the verge of tears and nothing has even happened. “Just… just get here and do your fucking thing!”
Bruce is spectacularly ill equipped for calming someone. As much as he tries to keep the city clean and the citizens protected, the one-on-one if not forced during a high-society get together is something he neither enjoys nor feels like he does a good job of.
He doesn’t think Jason would take well to him trying out one of his many casual conversation starters.
He lifts his hands placatingly even though Jason isn’t even looking at him and slowly makes his way closer. He is embarrassed over his cock leading the way; the bulge in the front of his towel easy to spot.
“Are you alright?” he asks gently. He can smell the bitter hint of pain threading through the otherwise overpowering heat scent that is coating his tongue and the back of his mouth. “Did something happen?”
“Don’t ask so much!” Jason’s is heaving a huge sob, his fingers digging into the bedding. The thick muscles in his broad back are twitching. His blue underwear is soaked dark with slick already. Bruce’s mouth goes dry, and his head starts to pound.
He has a knee on the mattress before he registers that he has even moved that far. Jason is trembling like a much smaller Omega. He is meaty and big and could demand the space accordingly, but instead he makes himself small, almost curling up into a ball.
Bruce reaches out slowly, but when he curls his fingers around Jason’s ankle, the young Omega cries out hoarse and feral and pulls away. He twists around until he is on his ass and Bruce can finally see his sweaty face.
He is flushed and feverish looking, the front of his little underwear tented by his erection.
“B…” he says it on a soft whine, the hard, stubborn expression on his face melting away, leaving him vulnerable and disoriented like a pup. “It hurts so much…”
Bruce slowly reaches out again. He listens to Jason’s breath hitch as he grips his ankle and pulls him closer by the leg this time.
“I can help you,” he offers, ashamed at how eager he sounds in his own ears, but this eagerness quickly takes a downturn when Jason looks him straight in the eye and whispers: “Please don’t hurt me.”
The ‘again’ hangs unspoken in the air.
Bruce lets go of him like he’s been burned, bile rising at the back of his throat.
He’s hurt him.
“Yes…” he murmurs, fumbling with his towel. “I won’t hurt you this time.”
What else was he supposed to say? Jason has a track record of reacting badly to Bruce’s apologies, so he doesn’t try to, even though it’s right on the tip of his tongue. It horrifies him that he hadn’t even realised he was hurting him.
Jason’s chest is heaving, his eyes big and glassy and younger looking than he really is as he stares up at Bruce who reaches out and drags fingers across the wet bulge of his cock. Across the hip bones it is still somewhat recognizable that the underwear had been sky blue at some point, but his slick and pre-cum have long since darkened it to a wet, needy deepsea blue.
Bruce drags his thumb from the base up to the tip, his whole body on fire when he sees pre-cum bubbling up through the fabric as if he’s massaging the thick juices out of an overripe fruit.
Jason as taken to pressing a palm across his eyes, his mouth open and panting; breaths accentuated by reedy whines.
“Please… please…”
He is whispering it like a mantra as Bruce carefully peels the wet underwear down his thighs. He wants to believe that Jason is begging for it, but eventually he finishes with a hitched little ‘don’t make it hurt’ that has him biting the tip of his tongue hard enough to draw a bit of blood.
Bruce is… devastated to think that he’s hurt an Omega. Hurt anybody in that way. He feels wretched; and when he shuffles between Jason’s muscular, trembling thighs and curls over him, he can’t help but to apologize after all.
“I’m so… damn sorry.”
His eyes feel prickly with tears. Why is it that dealing with Jason always gets him close to bawling?
Jason is whispering something, but he can’t make it out. He has his arms curled around Bruce’s shoulders and is digging his short nails into his skin bruisingly hard.
Bruce carefully nudges his way into him; he is so deep into his heat that there is no preparation needed; no buttering him up. He’s open and ready and so slick that everything engulfs Bruce in a wet, long slide that feels like it is going through his whole body.
Jason is clawing at his back, shuddering, knees clamped so hard around Bruce’s hips that he feels like a stallion that’s forced to push forward.
He keeps chewing on his tongue, hands balled into fists, forcing himself to remain calm and gentle despite the multiple points of hurt all over – and inside – his body.
He rocks and Jason whimpers; he grinds and Jason gasps, wet and broken, his body almost reluctantly relaxing around Bruce. He’s holding on to consciousness by the skin of his teeth, deathly afraid of what’s coming.
Bruce thinks blearily about last time. He’d thought he’d been so gentle. Even let him go without a… knotting…
God… could that be it? Had he made it worse by trying to make it easier on the poor pup? How many more times would he fuck up so spectacularly with Jason?
“Don’t be afraid… I’ll make it better this time… I’m so sorry,” he whispers into his ear, and gently picks up speed.
