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Jason's in the middle of explaining the plan but Prime got lost somewhere between while you do that I'll go do this and then you come back to me. Not his fault. Lots of jibber jabber in the air that he has to hear constantly, after all.
Jason snaps his fingers and Prime blinks. “What?”
“Did you get any of that?”
“Duh. Of course.”
Jason raises a brow.
Prime swallows.
Big sigh. “Okay. Prime, because I'm so nice, we're going to keep this short and sweet for you.”
“Okay,” he says, not because a pissed off Jason is scary, but a pissed off Jason thinks it’s cool for them to skip dinner. Prime hates skipping dinner, but he hates cooking for himself more.
“I’m going to whisper every order as we do this, to keep it simple. You listen to every last thing, and you follow up. If you do that, if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a treat.” Jason raises a brow. “Understand?”
“Huh? A treat?” he asks incredulously. “What do you mean by a treat?”
Jason smiles one of his weird half-smiles. “Dinner. You pick. Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. Even if it’s expensive.”
Prime’s mind wanders. Steaks, sushi, stir fry, sautees. His mouth waters a bit. He swallows.
Jason’s voice breaks him out of the fantasies, and Prime refocuses on him pulling on the dumb egghead Red Hood mask. “It’s been a while since we’ve had something nice. This job will pay for it. You just gotta be a good boy, or else I’m putting it all in savings.”
Prime squirms a little. “Cut it out with the good boy stuff. It’s gross when you say it.”
Lifting his arms in a shrug, Jason tilts his head. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to say it in a way that even a dog could understand.”
That prickles his skin. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“No, Prime.” Even without using x-ray vision, he can tell Jason’s rolling his eyes. “I can’t be consistent with my metaphors or wordplay? I can’t have fun? We can’t have fun?” He drops his arms, and Prime opens his mouth to answer, but Jason continues without letting him. “Speaking of which, it’s go time. Keep your ears open, yeah?”
“Fine.” Prime decides to figure out what they’re gonna eat after he secures it.
Prime runs up to Jason, who’s pulling off his mask, leaving his face with only the red domino. “I want beef wellington,” he spills before he stops.
Jason smiles, and it barely stretches his face. The thing with Jason is that the smaller the smile, the more real it is. Or, the more real it feels. Prime isn’t too sure. In any case, Jason smiles, and he reaches out and—and touches Prime’s hair, brushing a hand through it. His nails scratch a bit at Prime’s scalp, sending sparks down his back, and he feels himself lose a bit of focus at the feeling.
“Good boy,” Jason says, looking into Prime’s eyes, his voice a bit lower than usual. It’s obviously sarcastic, but this time, Prime feels tingly. Weird. He crosses his arms tight to his chest.
“I’m not a dog,” Prime whines, and he knows how childish he sounds. Ugh. Jason hasn’t moved his hand from where it cups the back of Prime’s head, and he wants to shake out his whole body to get rid of the tingles.
Jason finally pulls his hand away from Prime’s hair, spinning around. “Beef wellington, huh. Okay. I know a place.”
He always knows a place. Prime really does hate Gotham, FYI. At fourteen years old he was claiming to Laurie that he would rather die to aliens in Metropolis over spending a night in Gotham’s seedy streets. Despite that, Jason’s familiarity with the city makes it… not terrible. Just bad.
“Let’s go home first and change,” Jason says, and Prime lands on his feet. Jason helps him shuck off the power armor and pull on a jacket. When he turns around, Prime shakes out his arms and then his legs, and only then does his body stop feeling so weird.
They walk off, Jason in the lead, as per usual.
Prime knows Jason is smart. It takes a real idiot to not tell when someone is so smart it’s scary, and he can be terrifying sometimes.
Which means that Jason notices things.
Fine. ‘Stop beating around the bush.’ He hears you, you know? In short, Jason noticed Prime got weird after he pet him. So what? Big deal. Jason notices tons of things, whether they’re about Prime or not. It’s just another thing that got filed away next to, like, his favorite kind of bread (sourdough) or his shirt size (large) or the kind of popcorn he gets at the movies (salted, buttered, ol classic). Just slot in “Prime likes getting pet” right next to all those.
Right?
No. Of course not. Duh. Prime looks at—well. He looks at you, the reader, with a disappointed look.
“Jason’s abusing his power,” he whines. “And don’t say I’m whining! You already used that earlier. Your vocab sucks!” Prime, er, complains rather hypocritically. “Shut up already. Let me talk.”
Fine.
“Guys, it’s like all Jason does now is treat me like I’m a dog. The narrator sucks at like, exposition, so I’ll do it for them. It’s been a few months since you last saw us, and since our dinner, he keeps… petting me. I swear the last time he did it, he scratched me behind the ears. And he keeps calling me a ‘good boy’ and it’s gross! It’s gross, and every time he pets me it feels weird, and… and… now, when we go out and eat food or he gives me something or anything, he calls it a treat! What do I do?!”
Of course, you are a reader, so even if you are saying something out loud right now, Prime can’t hear you and this entire exchange is ultimately futile.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!”
Prime has been sitting here for three minutes in silence with zero response. The readers don’t even have a setting described for them to imagine him in. As far as they are aware, he’s been sitting in the void for who knows how long.
“That’s on you. Not me.”
Prime is currently sitting on his bed in one of the Red Hood’s sacred safehouses. Specifically, the largest and cleanest one that he owns, as it’s the one that most closely resembles a ‘normal’ living space. It’s also the only safehouse where Prime has his own room (with its own bed and decorations) and doesn’t share it with Jason, which means it’s the safehouse that happens to be Prime’s favorite. His bed is unmade and has simple, white sheets, and has a Superman plushie to go along with it. The rest of the room is quite neat, although much more sparsely decorated than you might have expected. There are boxes of comic issues and action figures placed carefully around the room, with a small section dedicated to the 2nd Robin.
“That wasn’t my idea. That was Jason’s,” Prime pipes up. “He’s so full of himself.”
With that being said, it should be noted that Jason only mentioned a shrine to himself as a joke, and yet Prime took it seriously enough to go out and seek out old comic issues that include Robin II.
“I’m seriously going to punch these walls so hard that I’ll get to you somehow, Narrator.”
Luckily, a knock at the door interrupts whatever foul plans Superboy Prime had prepared, and he jumps out of bed and answers it.
It’s Jason, in full civvies. Duh. (If you really wish to have a clear image of him in your mind, he’s wearing a plain black t-shirt with jeans, and socks. Very simple. They’re also matching, but it’s mainly because neither are the type that cares about what clothes they wear.)
Jason raises a brow. “Talking to yourself?”
“No, the audience. Were you listening?” Prime asks accusingly.
“Why the hell are you talking to them? Talk to me. At least I can respond.” Jason shoves his hands into his pockets and watches as Prime unconsciously preens at his words.
“If you insist.”
Jason Todd is, indeed, scary smart. He knows, intuitively or not, how to keep Prime and his dangerous mood swings at bay. He knows how to keep Prime happy without making him cocky enough to attempt to overthrow Jason’s steady, subtle control over Prime’s actions.
And, perhaps most terrifying of all, he knows to simply accept Prime’s less understandable moments and how to respond to them.
If, dear reader, you are concerned about Prime hearing all this, no need to fear. He’s too busy—actually, let’s just look into his mindscape, shall we?
Heh heh. Jason’s so obsessed with me! Heeheehee!
Yeah. It’s fine.
“What brings you to my humble room?” Prime asks, cheery. He moves aside and allows Jason further entry, who only takes two steps inside before replying.
“What, I can’t just see you whenever I want?” Jason grins.
Prime practically swoons, but he keeps it together enough to simply beam back. “No, I’m busy! I’m so busy. All the time!”
“Doing what?”
“Reading. I’m basically keeping up with the news, Jason, respect that.” Prime wags a finger in his face. “You know, when we’re not doing jobs, I’m reading.”
“Or talking to yourself.”
“The audience!”
“Speaking of jobs, you did good last night.”
Prime glows. “I know.”
Jason reaches out and puts one hand in Prime’s hair and the other on his neck. He brushes his hand through the black, slightly curled locks, ruffling them up and making them even messier than they usually are. He drags his nails against his scalp, and brings his hand through Prime’s hair in long, even strokes.
Prime feels his knees grow weak. He leans, unconsciously, towards Jason, bowing his head so Jason can pet him more thoroughly. “Y-you’re petting me again…” he mumbles.
“Huh? I’m just trying to get my point across. You did so good last night, Prime.” Jason brings his voice lower, softer. “I’m so happy you’re working with me. I don’t deserve you.”
Prime sways. He steps a bit closer to Jason, who shifts one hand to wrap around Prime’s back to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t stop petting for even a moment, not even when he reaches over and flicks the lights off.
“Clark,” Jason whispers into his ear, and Prime sinks further into the hug. “You know how much I need you, right?”
“You need me,” Prime whispers back.
“Yeah. I do,” Jason says, voice so soft Prime is certainly the only one who can hear it. “I was so alone. You saved me.”
“No,” Prime whispers back.
“No?”
“No, you saved me,” Prime mumbles, face growing hot. Wait, how did this even happen? How did he get here? He wasn’t supposed to say that! Not out loud! At least, not yet!
“Prime?”
Prime lifts his head to look at Jason. Only now does he realize he’s been leaning his entire weight on him. He tries to shift back to standing on his own two feet, but Jason grips his hair a bit tight and his legs go lax under him again. “C-call me Clark, again… please.”
Jason smiles, so softly, so small. “Clark.”
“Jason…”
“You’re such a good boy, Clark,” Jason whispers. “I love you.”
“Wh-” Prime—Clark flushes red. His entire body jitters. “I… Laurie…”
Jason pets him a bit harder, and Clark tries to hug him back tighter. “You miss her, right?”
“Of course I do!”
“But,” Jason’s voice goes sharp, “you’re my dog.”
Clark blinks. Suddenly, he’s breathless, like he’s been sucker punched, but he hasn’t. It’s just Jason, holding him close, petting his hair, talking softly. “Y-your… dog?”
Jason’s gaze stays steady on his face. “Aren’t you? I mean, I love you like one. Unconditionally. You’re my best friend.”
“I am?” Clark asks, his heartbeat rising.
“I love you,” Jason says again, and Clark—Prime feels like he’s going to pass out. “I love you even when you're being a bad dog.”
“You do?” Some part at the back of his brain is tugging at him, trying to remind him to stop being so repetitive, or else the readers are going to leave bad reviews. It’s all dampened, though, muted by the hand in his hair, the voice in his ear, the eyes in his gaze.
“I do.” Jason, finally, pulls away his hand from Prime’s hair, and a small whine rings out. It takes a second for Prime to realize it came from him, and he flushes even harder. Luckily, Jason doesn’t mention it, and he carefully guides Prime to his bed with the white sheets and the Superman plushie.
“I-” Prime flushes bright red when he realizes. The bed. His bed. He scooches back a little, awkwardly eyeing the sparkly blue eyes of felt Superman. “We aren’t going to… right?”
Jason sits back on his legs. “We can just take a nap.”
Prime doesn’t want to admit it, but he sighs a bit in relief. He stretches out his legs and lies flat against the bed, and Jason follows suit. They lay there, in silence, next to each other, not touching.
Just for a little while.
After a long silence, Jason asks, “Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” Prime answers automatically. He feels way more normal again. “Why would you? I could kill you at any second, in a second.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“I’ll remind you every time you need it.”
He’s known Jason for long enough to accept that their relationship isn’t totally normal. It’s not like either of them are normal. So not-normal people have not-normal relationships. Prime is pretty sure he remembers a math theory saying something like that.
So Jason pets him and calls him a good boy. So what?! It doesn’t matter. In fact, ever since then, their senses of personal space got completely screwed. They weren’t ever too great at the concept of “alone time”, but it's as if their relationship has boomerang'd back to how it was when they first met.
When they first met, the first thing Jason did was grab Prime off the side of the road (where he was, admittedly, half dead), took him home, and washed him. In the shower. Together. It didn’t seem that weird at the time, honestly. Prime was preoccupied with how it felt to have someone else get rid of the blood on his hands and the gunk in his hair.
Jason didn't own two beds back then, so they shared one. Jason also didn't trust Prime to be left alone at a safehouse all day or all night, so he took him wherever he went. For what it's worth, Prime never once refused to come along.
Eventually, they did buy another bed, and Prime proved himself well behaved enough to not start exploding walls when he got angry at a stray thought. The lack of personal space lingered like stale air, to which Prime attempted (clearly futilely) to replace with… normal male friendship things. A slap on the back is normal, right? A handshake, sure. Being pulled by the arm has to be normal. Sitting pressed up against the bathroom door while he showers is normal too, or else Prime wouldn't do it. It all lined up, so Prime thought it was working.
And then Jason fucked it up by petting him! Petting him! With his hands! Hands that have killed people!
Now Prime has to find ways to make excuses for them to sleep in the same bed. Jason absolutely does not have to know that he needs to shove his face into Jason's pecs and inhale deeply in order to sleep. Or that he really, really likes it when he sleeps on his back and Jason sleeps right on top of him, head nestled in the space between his shoulder and his neck. So he settles for way less embarrassing admissions, like “I had a nightmare about the Flash again” or “I'm cold” or “I keep having visions of the Green Cube” and every time, Jason opens his sheets for him.
(WARNING: Do not mention the Green Cube very frequently! If done so, Jason WILL become enraged and will attempt to convince Prime that they should kill every Green Lantern that has ever existed, which is pretty OOC. Despite agreeing with the overall sentiment, Prime does NOT approve of OOC moments and has to half-heartedly shoot him down by explaining how DC wouldn't let that happen under any circumstance.)
All that to say that they’re back to spending all their time together again. Prime would never admit it, but he prefers it this way.
It’s official. Prime is driving Jason insane.
Not in the normal way, where his insistence on the fictionality of the world drives Jason’s sense of reality down the toilet. No, he’s used to dealing with that by now. He’s been used to it, for the years he’s known the guy.
No, it’s because he’s gotten way too good at sex.
Whatever thought process Jason was in the middle of is swiftly pummeled out of his brain as Prime drives his cock further into him. Jason chokes out a moan and fists the sheets.
“What do you think?” Prime asks, breathless. “Can you even think?”
Jason tries to focus his vision on Prime’s face, but he’s post orgasm three and he’s really out of it, okay? Prime leans in and kisses him sloppily, and grinds deep in his pussy.
“You know,” Prime mumbles between kisses. He really needs to work on that mumbling habit. “I’m trying to go for a record here. How many times can I get you to squirt? I’m hoping for five.”
Jason moans and his pussy tightens around Prime’s cock. Prime grins. “You like that? Five? I like five. I hope we have five kids. A litter. You like calling me your dog, right?”
“Y-you’re not a- fuh-fuck!” Prime gropes at his chest and goes for a particularly aimed thrust. Jason’s thighs flex around Prime’s waist but he doesn’t even react.
“I am, though. You kept calling me that, your dog.” Prime pauses his thrusts as his grip slides down around Jason's waist. “Your waist is actually criminal. I wonder if the artists know that you need to have organs around in there?”
Jason's clit, hard and perked, twitches. Prime reaches down and gently nudges at it with an index finger. Jason groans and shifts a bit lower onto Prime's cock. “You know, Jason, your body likes it when I break the fourth wall. I think it's because of me. You just like everything I do.”
“N-not true,” Jason sputters. He's finally mostly recovered from his last orgasm, but Prime's finger on his clit is distracting him. “You're a fuckin’ bastard sometimes.”
Prime begins rubbing his clit gently, up and down, back and forth, and Jason whimpers, his thighs tightening around Prime's waist. “Like now,” Jason breathes.
“Your refractory period is so short. You think it's the pussy or the Lazarus Pit?” Prime asks suddenly, finger pausing.
Jason glares at him.
He goes back to rubbing. “You're right. Everybody blames everything on the Lazarus Pit. It's really annoying. It's probably me, right? I just awoke some kind of long, deep seated sexual frenzy within you. I get it.” He smiles smugly, self-assured. Jason rolls his eyes. Unconsciously, his hips begin to gyrate, small thrusts against Prime's cock and his finger. “See? You want me so bad. I should just seal the deal, right? I should let you tie me up and do whatever you want to me. I should get you pregnant.”
Jason, unwittingly, scowls so hard that he begins to growl between gritted teeth. “Just move already!”
“Oh, fine, fine,” Prime says, fake-obligingly. He gently, slowly, at the speed of a glacier, eases his dick out of Jason. Inch by inch. It’s torturously slow, and Jason begins to get so pissed Prime has to offer him an arm to bite and tear at. Prime likes it when Jason gets so angry he has to bite at his arms. It’s cute, and it’s not like it hurts.
Eventually, he’s gotten everything but the tip out, and he looks up and makes eye contact with Jason, who drags his teeth against his arm before throwing it back at him. Prime settles his hands on Jason’s hips, then, like zero to a hundred, he slams into his cunt. Jason yelps and his pussy jerks around Prime’s cock, which only fuels him more. Tightening his grip, he pulls Jason up and down his dick over and over again.
If there’s anything about Prime that Jason can’t complain about, it’s his body. He’s cut like a statue, muscles defined and sharp. He’s lean and tall, with hair that curls over his cute face. His ass is fat to the point that he knows about it, and flaunts it when he feels like it. Which is often.
Jason, when he’s not getting fucked to next Saturday, occasionally wonders if it’s his fault. Prime used to be the one covering up his poor self esteem with faux confidence. Jason would simply attend to him with semi-frequent compliments to keep his spirits up, but now Prime acts like he’s the sexiest guy Jason’s ever seen, and, well. Maybe he’s not entirely wrong about that.
Jason starts to feel the dick tugging him upwards until his hips lift off the bed, and he starts whacking Prime’s side with a fist. “Ugh-! Fuh-uck... y-you’re-” Jason beats Prime’s abs, but he keeps pounding at an unsteady pace. “You’re flying!” he chokes out. “M-my hips ar- ungh!”
Prime leans forward, hands shifting to Jason’s thighs, pushing them up toward his chest, allowing him to present his cunt more. His hips are completely lifted off the bed, curving his back as he scrabbles to clutch at the already ruined bedsheets, head pressed deep into the pillows.
Jason’s eyes fly wide open as the shift in position leads Prime’s dick to pound directly against his cervix. “P-prime, th-hah-nuh-” he stammers.
“Shhh.” Prime reaches out and places a cool hand against Jason’s cheek, and only then does he realize he’s been crying, tears forced out of his eyes. “It feels good, right? I thought it would hurt, but you like that, don’t you? I wish I could suck your dick off at the same time as me doing this. I guess I gotta settle for the next best thing.”
Jason blinks as he tries to remember what that entails. Prime always says that before he does some crazy shit.
He lifts his right hand, and Jason watches through blurry vision as Prime slowly brings that hand down, down, dow-
Prime presses gently against his clit, except his hand is vibrating at super speed, and Jason feels the vibration shoot heavy, intense, overwhelming pleasure throughout his body instantly. He screams out a moan as he orgasms, squirting pussy juice all over Prime’s diamond-cut abs. His pussy jerks and clenches relentlessly over Prime’s dick, still leisurely thrusting in and out, tapping against his cervix with every push.
Prime watches Jason cum all over him with heavy gasps and whines and moans, ripping the sheets with his hands, tears pouring out from his eyes. And he just keeps cumming. Every couple seconds, Prime assumes it’s over before Jason’s clit jerks against his fingers and he’s squirting again. He does it once, twice, thrice—it’s so fucking sexy, Prime closes his eyes and lets himself go, slamming his cock in as deep as possible and cumming into Jason’s pussy.
When he opens his eyes again, Jason’s whimpering. His eyes are glassy, and there’s tears streaming down his face. Prime’s hand isn’t vibrating anymore, but it’s still pressed hard against his clit, and Jason’s legs are uselessly twitching, suspended in the air.
There’s slick everywhere. Jason came all over Prime’s stomach, chest, thighs, and over his arms.
“Holy shit.”
Jason burbles.
Then he closes his eyes and passes out.
Prime immediately (gently!) pulls his hand away from Jason’s clit. It’s not that they haven’t fucked so hard Jason goes from one orgasm straight into another before; Prime tries to pull that every night. But clearly, this time he went a bit… overboard.
Prime pulls out of Jason as softly as possible, and they’re so slicked up it’s easy as pie. He settles Jason on the bed, and a bit lustfully, he watches as cum begins to pool out of him. After a moment of watching, he sniffs the air and feels his head spin. The room stinks so heavily of sex, he gets off the bed and opens the window before his body can get any more ideas. A gust of cool wind smacks him in the chest, cooling the slick all over his torso.
“Eugh,” Prime mumbles, post nut clarity hitting him at full force. “Now we both need a bath. And a new bed, probably.”
He really doesn’t want to clean them up. Hell, he doesn’t even want to bring Jason to a different bed. He just wants to curl up next to him and go to sleep too.
Prime closes his eyes and imagines the world where he goes straight to sleep. He sees Jason waking up with cum flaking all over his body and getting angry. He imagines the world where he cleans them up. He sees Jason petting him, calling him a good boy, and sucking him off as a reward.
Prime sighs heavily. He picks up Jason in a bridal carry and takes him to the bathroom.
(The next morning, Jason wakes up to a clean bed, a clean body, sore hips, and an aching clit. The next morning, Prime wakes up to a lot of head pats, a lot of praise, a lot of kissing, and… yup, a blowjob. Worth it.)