horrendousness

[onapalehorse]

From this.

"You will find strength, and peace."

He promises, with belief.

Comments

[onapalehorse]

"If you keep touching me like that, my mind will supply reasons to never harm you again, and then all of this work will be lost."

He complains, mildly, eyes shutting against the pleasure, undone with a simple stroke of fingertips against his skin.

"Or worse, I will know the strength to continue, and will mourn never feeling it again. Abstinence is most cruel once broken."

[lasiurus]

"I had a friend who would have wanted me to tell you abstinence is for the dead."

His hands are cool, soothing.

"Besides, you're already planning on having me sometime in the future."

[onapalehorse]

"True enough."

This is all the vulnerability he can stomach, so lets the tip of one slick finger breach him. A very immediate distraction.

[lasiurus]

It works like predictable, comical magic. Bruce's hand drops (it was work to reach up that high) and he is surprised to find that the first finger doesn't hurt at all. He doesn't see the appeal in it, either, but at least it's not painful.

[onapalehorse]

"What do you know about this? Ever touched the idea?"

He takes the slide inside of him slow and easy, fingertip working gently.

[lasiurus]

"Sometimes. That friend I told you about- he couldn't get enough of this."

He doesn't want to think about friends or his history right now, though. Especially Tony and Bruce, who are at best dead right now.

"Not bad."

[onapalehorse]

"More colourful than I would have expected from you."

He murmurs, searching slowly for the small place inside of him that takes it from 'not bad' to 'more right now.'

[lasiurus]

"If you'd known him, you wouldn't be surprised."

He searches for a change of topic, but instead Bane finds it, and every thought in his head is shut right out in favor of stuttered gasps.

[onapalehorse]

"Begging."

He promises, working it over slowly, the rough pad of his finger searching for the best angle, the amount of pressure to get him pumping his hips.

"And pleading, and possible contrite tears."

[lasiurus]

He's determined not to beg, or plead, and he hasn't shed a tear in over twenty years. But little by little, oh, he can see why this is something people want.

"You have to- be held down for this? Maybe they weren't doing it right."

[onapalehorse]

"That was different."

He tells him, building up a slow rhythm. Pressure, then easing back. In, out.

"In every way imaginable. I won't do anything to you you need to flee."

[lasiurus]

"Mmm."

Every so often the brush of Bane's finger will get Bruce's leg to twitch.

"You should let someone do this to you. Show you how different it is."

[onapalehorse]

"I will. You're going to."

He answers, already having decided that. He tries something new, a furl so direct the stimulation borders on painful intensity.

[lasiurus]

Bruce cries out loud, back lifting off the blanket. His hips rock hard against Bane's hand with a new sort of desperation.

"Yes- oh, God-"

[onapalehorse]

Bane doesn't torment him today, just moves his hand faster, setting up a rhythm like that, reaching down to pin his shoulder to the blanket.

"To see both the grounds of, and groundlessness of your fear."

[lasiurus]

He grips Bane's hand like he had last night when Bane touched his throat. But this time he clings, like a climber to a rope, and keens helplessly.

[onapalehorse]

"Spread your legs. I know it feels like it will never be enough, but it is all you are getting, and you are closer to the edge than you think."

He tells him, though that may not be true. Bruce has just finished.

He wants to keep him like this for some time, though, so it's perfect.

[lasiurus]

He obeys blindly, hips working obscenely all the while. It will be an agonizingly long while before he can come again, but Bruce doesn't know that yet.

[onapalehorse]

"Look at you, rational thought slipping away, tension in every pale line- I will have you out here in the sun until you are golden and open, perhaps all day."

A warm breeze picks up, slides over them, Bane keeps him just like that, watching for cramps or spasms, ready to flip him when he can't sustain the writhing.

[lasiurus]

Bruce crawls mindlessly into Bane's lap, head nuzzling just so between his legs. He might feign ignorance later about this, but right now he wants to feel Bane writhe with him. At least until, as Bane suspected, his muscles begin to cramp from overuse.

[onapalehorse]

He presses him down, then, mercifully forceful, giving him something to push again but no real space to move, finger thrusting faster.

[lasiurus]

He comes again, a half hour after the last, but just a few drops and a strangled whine this time.

Wow.

[onapalehorse]

This time, it's just two fingers against his throat, as though taking his pulse. Bane loves how it jackhammers for him. The touch is there-again, gone-again.

[lasiurus]

He murmurs in such small protest it's clear he doesn't mean it. Two fingers, he can abide.

"Twelve years since you did that for someone? ...if this is you rusty..."

[onapalehorse]

Bane's fingers withdraws, a little rough, a little dry by this point, and he lies down next to him in the shade of the tree, head pillowing on his arm.

"This part, I have done. The unselfish pleasures."