#superlords

Like for example, especially in public, Damian often treats Jon as a pet or below him, someone at his command (which Jon gladly is). Jon is his tool, his possession and his lover.

Meanwhile back in private the dynamic switches and Jon has the upper hand, allowing Damian to be vulnerable and making the prince kneel for a change, taking control away from him so he can relax and stop thinking for a moment.

The Little King of the White Room

Justice Lords AU

Back at it again with some Supersons! I've always wanted to draw an evil Jon and while their pose above may seem quite forward, in my head, they're just a hero and a villain with no history and no future. Doomed enemies if you will. It's funny how much more tension they have here because of it than when I actually try to draw them as a ship. I blame it on my asexual ass confusing intimacy. To think I actually finished drawing this just now too! The power of delulu has returned stronger than ever, bae-bee! XD -Bubbly💙

Jon-El leaned back against the table, the wood digging into his back, though he couldn't feel the pain. The handcuffs he was wearing were only for show, but he didn’t break free. It'd just make Damian more upset.

They were in the Batcaves kitchen; Jon leaning against the table, watching Damian silently wash dishes. He'd taken off his gloves and mask, though Jon couldn't see his expression with his back turned. But he could hear the pitter patter of his heartbeat, see the way he'd roughly dunk spoons and plates into the water, scrubbing them like they'd disintegrate.

"...Are you mad at me?" Jon asked softly, feeling like a little kid who'd just upset his parents. Damian didn't stop washing dishes, but the spoon he was cleaning did get thrown into the drying rack rather aggressively. "No." Was his short reply. Definitely mad, and Jon couldn't blame him.

They'd been fighting, the whole family had. Tim was going against Kon, Jason, Dick and Cass against Kara, and the rest struggling with his dad while he dealt with Damian. Jon never tried hard in their fights, he just couldn't bring himself to hurt the man he was so deeply in love with. And he knew Damian didn't take their fights too seriously either, just swinging the kryptonite blade for appearances.

Jon fantasized that if no one was around Damian wouldn't pull out his weapons at all. They just laugh and talk and Damian would lean into his chest right where he belonged. But there were people, so they fought. Jon had been flirting like he always did. Calling him pretty, commenting on his legs in the leather suit, whispering about the way his mouth would taste. Damian had flushed but kept fighting, used to his comments.

Now Jon can't remember what made him say it. He'd been saying something about how he was willing to promise his body to Damian, and Damian had snorted. "What, till death departs us?" It had made Jons brain short circuit, and he stopped moving, looking Damian right in the eyes. "We should elope." Damians blade stopped less than an inch away from his neck, his eyes wide. "What?" For a moment, it felt like the whole world had paused, going silent just for them.

Then a large rumbling, dirt and stone moving, a shout, Damians eyes widening, and without thinking he pulled Damian into his chest just as the piece building slammed into him. Jon held Damian tight as dust and concrete exploded around them, and Jon raised his arm up to shield Damians face when a large chunk fell next to them. His ears were ringing, and the shouts of everyone else didn't help. He tried to focus on the rapid beats of Damians heart.

Damian burried his facs into Jons chest, his hands balled up into fists near his cheeks, trying to fit himself into the shape of Jon. Jon had heard screams of Damians name, of his, before Kon picked up the building that now had a Jon sized hole in the center. He pulled up slowly, for a reason Jon didn't know. If he'd thought it was Jon, why not break it apart? Did he know that he was holding Damian?

Thats probably what Damian was mad about. Everyone had stared at them, holding each other protectivly. He saw the way his siblings looked at each other, the way Bruces face fell. Damian had quickly pushed away from him, and the fighting continued. Jon was 'taken captive', though he really just wanted to talk to Damian and it seemed everyone knew that. Leading to now.

Damian didn't slam the cutting board, but he did place it in the drying rack hard enough to shake the other dishes. Jon winced. "Are you ok?" "I'm fine." Was Damians short reply. He picked up a butter knife and cleaned it before almost tossing it into the drying rack. "Are you sure? You don't seem fine."

"My family thinks I'm colluding with you. But I'm fine." Oh. Yeah, he got that. "Sorry." He said softly, and Damian turned on the water, just letting it run. "Don't be. I'd be dead if you'd done otherwise." For a moment he sounded soft, grateful, then he turned off the water and kept cleaning. Not as aggressively as before, but Jon would take the win.

"...I meant what I said," He started, shifting his feet. "About getting eloped." Damian stopped cleaning. He was still for a fraction of a second before he began washing the larger dishes. Where was Alfred? "We can't." "I've thought about it before," Jon continued anyways, "A lot, actually. Of us just running. Simple rings, maybe some sweet words engraved, but they'd be ours."

"We can't." Damian said again, voice tighter and movements slower. The dish was clean, but he continued to wipe it as Jon kept talking. "We can pack small stuff and just wander. See the sights. Sleep on the grass and look up at the stars. Together." "We. can't." "Why not?" Jon shot back, standing straighter. "I'm Kryptonian, your Robin. What can't we do?"

How long had they been doing this dance? Years? Almost two decades? Jon wanting to make things official but knowing they couldn't, Damian keeping him at arms length even when they cuddled after sex. "We can't," Damian said, finally rinsing off the dish and putting it to dry. "We would get caught." "We could run!"

Suddenly Damian slammed down the bowl he was holding, metal banging against the sink as he turned with wild eyes. "Where would we go, Jon?!" Jon raised up, moving forward. "Where ever we want!" Damian scoffed, shaking his head. "There is not a place on this earth, in this galaxy, that we could go. My family would track us down, your family would hunt us, we'd never be safe!"

Jon came closer, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated it when Damian made sense. "Then we keep going!" "Keep going??" "YES!" Jon exploded, reaching out and grabbing Damians face in his hands. "We leave the planet, the solar system, the galaxy, the supercluster, the cosmic web! We keeping going and going until they stop chasing, until they can't keep chasing."

"We run to a place where we don’t have to hide, Damian." Jon said desperately, watching Damians face fall. "A place we can kiss in public, a place where we can live together, sleep together and wake up together every day and night. A place where we don’t have to rush to separate; a place where we don't need to separate. Don’t you want that? Don't you want to marry me?"

Damian was silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. His heart was beating fast, and Jon could hear the blood rushing to his ears. Then, a single tear trickled down his cheek. "Yes," Damian sniffled, whispering with more emotion than Jons heard in months. "Yes, yes I will marry you. But how would we leave? We'd need something fit for long distance space travel—"

"Which I have," Jon said softly, thinking about the hundreds of ships in the Fortress of Solitude. "We'd need an impossible amount of supplies—" "Which you have." Damian smiled softly. "We'd be leaving everything and everyone behind. The foods we love, the places, the people." Jon felt himself frown. "I won't miss my family. My dad..."

Jon sighed. "It used to be about justice. Proper justice, criminals getting what they deserve and proper trails; an end to corruption in the court rooms. But now its about control. Its about competition. Its about being better than your dad at stopping criminals, its about making sure everyone pisses themselves when they hear his name. Kon likes the attention, Kara likes the fear. I won't miss any of them."

"Even your mother?" Damian asked softly, hands coming up to rub at his palms. "My mom thinks I'm a monster. And she's kind of right. She'll probably pray we crash and burn. Will you miss your siblings?" Damian looked away, his eyes sad and shoulders slumped. "Yes. A little. But after this..." Damian sighed and Jon pulled him closer, against his chest.

Damian fit in his arms perfectly. It was like he was made specifically for Jon to hold, the top of his head slightly under his chin, arms wrapping around his neck, and Jon broke free of the hand cuffs to rub Damians back. "No one really trusts Timothy anymore," Damian admitted. "Everyone knows him and Kon have a thing going on. Everyone walks on eggshells around him, wondering if what they say will be said to the enemy. They wonder what already had been said, even though I don't think Timothys said anything." Damian was, as usual, right. If Tim had said something, Kon hadn't told them.

"If I stay, everyone will look at me like that. They already do. My father..." Damian sniffled, and Jon kissed his hair. "He looked so betrayed. So disappointed. So—heartbroken." It was silent for a second, and Jon tried to hear anything around them. But like most of the Bats safe houses, everything was lead lined. "How would we find time to leave?" Damian whispered, his breath warm on his neck. "They'll all be watching us closely, and we need time to gather supplies."

"We let things settle, and work silently." Jon replied, rubbing his sides with his thumb. "I move the ship to a discrete location, tell you during a fight, and you drop off supplies whenever you can. We should make sure that we have alibis at all times, and we shouldn't meet on purpose. It'll probably take us a few years, but I know we can do it."

Damian hummed against his chest, fingers drawing circles around his pecks. "You’ve thought this through." Jon chuckled, feeling Damian leaning more and more into him. "I'm just talking as the thoughts come. But do you like that plan?" Damian nodded, and Jon panicked when his legs gave out. If Jon hadn't been holding him, Damian would've collapsed.

"Hey hey hey, are you alright? Damian? Darlin'?" Jon asked, getting down with him and leaning up against the wooden cabinets. Damian always did like his southern accent. "What do you want to get engraved?" Damian said instead, shuffling closer to him. "On the rings?" Jon blinked, thinking. "Uh, I don't know. Do you want a simple quote, or something more deep?"

"What we have is deeper than a quote," Damian said softly, and Jon moved him so he was sitting on his lap. Damian began playing with the ends of his hair, Jon leaning into the touch. "We have something incredible, to have weathered a war and still burn bright." Jon thought hard, trying to come up with something poetic and romantic.

"How about 'War did not break out hearts?'" "I don't want to think about this war every time I read it. What about...'Love connects us like the sky and the earth?'" Jon shook his head. "No, it's too long. What about something simple, like 'Love is stronger than hate' or 'Love stays forever?'" Damian hummed, leaning up slightly.

"'Love forever remains'," He said with a soft smile. "I like that." Jon smiled, kissing his head again. "I do too. Love forever remains. What kind of ring, gold or silver?" Damian smiled softly, and Jon heard his heartbeat settle into a flustered pace. It was his favorite sound, and the thought of hearing it by his side everyday made his own heart race.

"Gold. Some people call it the 'forever metal.' When we leave, will we look for a planet with intelligent life or something uninhabited?" Jon thought, rubbing Damians back, imagining them wearing matching rings. "Honestly, we'll need a civilization. Our supplies won't last forever, and we'll need to do upkeep on our ship. The more advanced the better." Damian adjusted himself, his legs wrapping around his waist, his face in the crook of his neck.

"The Vegan system, maybe?" God, when was the last time Jon had thought about Starfire? When had she left Earth? Ten years ago? Fifteen? "Would Koriand'r accept our stay?" "If she knew what we were doing. She'd approve, maybe even help us, point us in the direction of some planets." What had made Kori leave? Was it Roy Harpers death, or her and Jasons relationship imploding? He couldn't remember. How many other things could he not remember, how many memories had this war taken from him?

"I love you," He said softly, letting Damian lean up and look at him. "I love you more than I know how to explain. I'm...I'm sorry that this happened. I'm sorry, darling." Damian smiled softly, his green eyes swimming with tears. He leaned up and kissed him, and Jon felt like fireworks were exploding around them. Damians lips were chapped, his breath tasted like spearmint gum, and his hands were still wet and smelled like soap. Jon kissed back like a man starved of affection. And he kind of was.

He wrapped his hand around his waist, kissing him slowly, carefully, as if he'd break him. I've scared Damian away before, he thought as he pulled him closer, I won't do it again. Damian sighed against his lips, leaning impossibly closer, and Jon grinned as his hips gently rocked against him. "Will you marry me?" He asked softly, lavender eyes gazing at green. Complementary colors, Damian once told him. Damian laughed, breathless and sweet, and kissed him again. "Yes. I will marry you. I...I love you too, Jon."