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The knock at the door did not bode well. It wasn't that there was anything particularly wrong with doors being knocked on, but Jason wasn't expecting company, and he was busy enough without having to deal with someone selling Girl Scout cookies door-to-door. He was hoping that ignoring it would be the end of it, and he'd be able to move on with his life, and...
And of course not. Constantine was sitting on the floor of his living room, and Constantine seemed to guarantee the worst case scenario.
"Don't bother getting it," Jason snapped, noting that Constantine hadn't even sat upright, let alone offered to help. He grabbed his cane, heading for the front door as the knocking came again.
Jason was strongly considering hitting whoever was on the other side with his cane just for interrupting him, but then he was feeling particularly irritable that night.
The sight of Batman on his doorstep, however, was enough to bring that entire train of thought to a halt.
It wasn't quite dark, more afternoon than evening, and Batman was in his full costume, all black carbon fiber that made him look significantly larger than Jason knew him to actually be. He looked ridiculously out of place on the front stoop, and that was enough of a reason to throw the door wide, stepping out of the way to let him in.
The fewer of his neighbors who caught a glimpse of him, the better. He didn't want anyone asking questions, after all. He had enough negative attention without adding one of Batman's many enemies to that pile.
"Jason," Batman said with a curt nod, which struck Jason as odd until he realized that any attempts to be on a last name basis would have meant calling him Blood.
Jason opted to return the favor.
"Bruce."
Bruce—Wayne, really, because Bruce felt far too intimate—scrunched up his face in irritation. They'd worked together before, but not nearly so intimately that he'd revealed his identity. Probably, he was irritated that someone had told.
Jason didn't bother to dissuade him of the notion. No need to point out that it wasn't that hard to figure out once you were seeing Batman up close regularly.
Well, that and the fact that Diana had said the name Bruce offhand once at a meeting. Jason suspected most of the magic half of the League knew, but he certainly wasn't going to put any of the blame on her.
Batman didn't comment, just stared down at him, taking full advantage of the half-foot difference to their height. He was, in a word, looming, and Jason didn't appreciate it.
"Need I remind you that you are a guest in my home, Mr. Wayne?" Jason said, tone curt. "I assume you're here for a reason, as you're not the type to make house calls without reason."
Wayne's eyes narrowed in response.
"Something is going on in the city," Wayne started, "something magical in nature."
Batman's distaste for magic was well known. If something magic was going on, he hated it. That was just how it went.
"And you decided to stop by my house."
"I stopped a cult last night that were doing something," Wayne continued, not stopping long enough for Jason to get a word in edgewise. "I'm not familiar enough to recognize exactly what, but I know it was magic, and I know it was real. There was an... energy in the air. Zatanna's out of town, which makes you Gotham's magical expert for the moment."
"Actually," Jason countered, "it makes John Constantine Gotham's designated magical expert, as I declined to be included in any such rotation."
Wayne stared at him with what could only possibly be described as a glower.
If there was one thing that Batman hated more than magic, it was John Constantine.
"Who is here," Jason said, half taking pity on the man and half wanting to rub it in, "because yes, we're both aware something is happening. We're working on it."
Wayne grunted, striding into the house in search of Constantine.
When they arrived in the study—the largest room in the house by a mile—Constantine was doing an excellent job making himself useless. He was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by books (most of which were various states of partially read), staring up at the ceiling. He didn't even look up when Jason arrived at the doorway, and it took Jason tapping his cane against the floor to draw the younger man's attention.
"Bats!" Constantine exclaimed at the sight of Batman, which was certainly going to set the tone for the next few hours. "Nice of you to join us. I'm sure you're here to help."
Wayne's eyes narrowed.
"You can get rid of the cowl," Jason pointed out, not particularly caring either way. "If you're going to help, you'll be here a while."
Jason seriously doubted they'd be able to fix it before the following morning, so he bustled around the room, making sure it was going to be comfortable. He relocated a number of books from in front of the fireplace, opened the chimney damper, and made sure a fire was burning properly before he allowed himself to turn his attention to more serious matters. It wasn't the sort of thing he needed to do, but it was the sort of thing he enjoyed doing, and he found comfort in the old routines.
Comfort that would hopefully carry him through the night.
"So what exactly did they do?" Wayne asked, still wearing his full costume, cowl up. Did he take comfort in it, Jason wondered to himself as he took a seat on the couch, shoving a few books to the side.
"They were trying to catch Gotham," Constantine said from the floor. He still hadn't even sat upright, a fact which irritated Jason to no end.
"Elaborate."
"They were attempting to... incarnate Gotham as an entity," Jason elaborated, refusing to let Constantine give one of his botched half-explanations. "Controlling the entity would have allowed them some level of power over both the physical city and the residents within. They were doing this by summoning a demon, binding the demon to Gotham, and then forcing the demon to manifest in a host of their choosing."
"Fiddly stuff," Constantine added, earning another grunt from Batman.
"I presume that you interrupted them after summoning the demon and midway through binding the demon to Gotham," Jason continued, ignoring Constantine completely. "There is absolutely a demon, and Gotham has been... tampered with. Any magic I do feels... tainted by the magic of the demon, simply by virtue of being done within Gotham's city limits."
"Long term effects?"
"Bad," Constantine cut in. "Very bad. We don't know what kind of demon they got. Probably they didn't either. If they summoned something tied to a plague, for example, you'd start seeing sickness popping up all over the place, mucking up things without any actual cause."
It was a good enough explanation, so Jason didn't correct it.
"The problem is in fixing it. The spell's half done, the magic still out there. The easy way isn't an option—"
"Explain the easy way."
Jason fixed Wayne with his most serious stare.
"The easy way is not an option."
"Then explain it."
Jason sighed, leaning forward, his hands propped up on his cane.
"We finish the spell. Finish binding the demon to Gotham, incarnate the demon into a human host, and finish the ritual. Then, when it's done, we free the demon, returning it to the hell from whence it came."
"That's what we should be doing," Constantine said flatly. "Only Jason thinks that it's too risky, and wants to do things the hard way, which could take weeks if we get lucky."
"I'm not putting a demon in you, John," Jason snapped. The idea was absurd. Jason obviously wasn't an option—very much occupied already—and Constantine was...
Well, Constantine was not an option.
"Oh please," Constantine snorted. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"Use my body," Wayne said, and both Jason and Constantine made choked noises, although Jason suspected it was for very different reasons.
"You have no idea what you're agreeing to," Jason pointed out, because he was absolutely certain it was true.
"I'm not going to let this damage Gotham."
"Consider your language in the future before making offers like that," Constantine said with a laugh, finally pushing himself to a sitting position before turning to Jason. "I think we should try it."
"Absolutely not."
"He's human," Constantine pointed out, "so he poses no more risk than any other non-magical human. Plus, he's tough as nails—whatever a demon is going to throw at him, he'll be able to stand up to it. We'll be done in record time."
"We're not going to be—"
Jason cut himself off, turning away. The entire situation was impossibly frustrating. Explaining the risks to Wayne seemed like a useless endeavor, considering both he and Constantine were set on it, but Jason couldn't help but feel wary of the whole idea. Intellectually, he recognized it was probably the best case scenario—a strong host body was the least likely to suffer damage, and Wayne had no magic of his own to lead the magic awry—but it still didn't feel right.
"...With all the proper precautions," Jason finally said. "We aren't going to rush this."
"Alright!" Constantine said, sprawling right back onto the floor. "Let me know when you're done."
Jason rolled his eyes and got to work.
He knew better than to argue with Constantine, after all.
Three hours later, John felt like he was going insane. Jason still wasn't done, and any time Constantine made even the vaguest attempt to help he ended up getting pushed away by the (very) sharp end of Jason's walking stick.
"It's as done as it's going to get, mate," John observed from the floor. Bruce was pressed up against a wall, watching the preparation with obvious and barely hidden disdain. John had never quite figure out what had gotten a bee in his bonnet over the very concept of magic, but it was just as well: the less interest Bruce had in magic, the less time he had to bother John about it.
"It doesn't need to be done," Jason argued, "it needs to be perfect. If we do this wrong, the host could end up dead."
That doesn't seem to bother Bruce, who doesn't even offer his usual grunt.
"It's done," John said pointedly. "You think I haven't been checking your work, mate?"
Jason's glare could curdle milk, and he held it for far too long before finally turning back to the intricately inscribed circle that now took up the majority of the study.
"Good enough," Constantine muttered under his breath.
"...I think it's ready," Jason said, as if John hadn't said a thing. "If you'd carefully step over the outer circle, Mr. Wayne..."
It was only at that point that Bruce decided the cowl was going to be too stuffy. He pulled it off, setting it to the side, and after a moment's thought removed his cape as well, folding it and setting it on the couch (shoved hastily against the wall hours earlier) before following Jason's instructions, careful not to disturb the outer ring.
The inner ring—without markings or any adornment at all—was large enough for Wayne to lie down completely in, but instead he sat, crossing his legs beneath him.
He looked ready to meditate, which John found quite funny. Leave it to Batman to stare death in the face while acting like he was about to do some yoga.
"You're ready?" Jason prompted as John paced the circle, inspecting every line, every word, every symbol. It had to be perfect. It would be easier to continue the spell then finish the previous one, but they still couldn't fuck it up, either.
"I know what I'm getting into, and I'm ready," Bruce said flatly, and Jason let out a sigh of his own, pacing towards the northern end of the circle.
Almost automatically, John headed to the south, taking up position across from Jason. Even before he reached out, he could feel the magic in the air, the entire city laced with the half-finished spell. It felt so easy to finish, but John wasn't stupid enough to try. That kind of magic—tantalizing as it was—would easily lead just about anyone astray.
"Together," Jason said, apparently having the same kind of thoughts.
"Together."
Their magic was of a different sort, but that didn't stop it from working together flawlessly. They had worked together plenty of times, and it was easy to find the right rhythm. Jason might have acted irritated by him, but John knew the score. When his back was to the wall, there weren't many other people Jason would trust to be at his side.
John felt the same way. Jason was a good ally, maybe even a friend, and even if John got on his nerves more than a few times....
Well, when the chips were down, they'd stand together, just like they were now.
They didn't speak as the spell began to wind together, wrapping itself around the man sitting in the center of the circle. Could Bruce feel it? Did he know what was happening? He had to feel something, and yet the man was perfectly still, as stoic as ever.
The magic wound tight, trapping Bruce inside, and then it wasn't around him any longer, it was inside him, and the demon was suddenly there.
It wasn't like it was with Etrigan. With Etrigan, it was either Jason or the demon himself, with no real in between. The two rarely cooperated, and even more rarely shared space. They did not share—they exchanged places.
What Bruce was doing was sharing, although not willingly. The demon wore Bruce's skin like a suit, but there was nothing of Bruce in the demon's demeanor. He still looked human—no glowing red eyes or talon-like claws to give the game away—but every magical sense that John had made it painfully clear what he was looking at.
Already Jason was working to banish it, to send it back to Hell. John knew he should have been joining in, but something about it...
It felt familiar, and he didn't like that at all.
"Oh Johnnnn," the Not-Bruce voice called, and John felt a chill run down his spine. Too familiar by half. "I'll leave a gift for you, John. I haven't forgotten what happened last time..."
"Constantine," Jason snapped, and John reached out, pulling all his magic together before throwing it at Jason. Let him guide it. Let him be the expert.
And he was. Jason knew exactly what he was doing, taking the magic in like the seasoned, practiced mage he was. Jason Blood probably had stuff in his freezer older than John, and he'd been practicing magic the whole while. He could, if he wanted to, blow the magical pants off John, and it was only the fact that John was deeply underhanded that gave John even the slightest bit of a chance.
Not that John was ever going to admit that. He'd rather die.
The language Jason chanted in was old—not Latin, because John knew Latin—but almost halfway intelligible. Almost words. But John could feel it just the same, could let his eyes drift half closed and know just what Jason was doing.
So he could feel the exact moment Jason blew the bloody doors off, and the demon that had taken up residence in Bruce Wayne was very suddenly not there, knocked back to Hell with a particularly impressive thwack.
They weren't going to be coming back from that.
Bruce could feel the exact moment the demon—if that was what it really was—left him. Up until that moment, he'd been adrift, watching his own body the way people tended to watch daytime TV; his mind half awake, fuzzy and unfocused, unable to even recall what had happened a moment before.
The moment the demon was gone, everything was suddenly very, very real. He was in his body, still inside the circle, and something was fundamentally wrong. He knew it, even before he could understand the nature of that wrongness.
It was just wrong.
"Wayne," Jason said, his voice sounding slightly strangled. "I should have warned you, but with a demon that... intense, you might experience certain after affects."
Bruce swayed where he sat, struggling just to keep himself upright. Should have warned him his ass. He should have led with that, and he hadn't.
"Depending on the nature of the demon, those effects could come in a variety—"
"It's lust," Bruce choked out. He didn't need the whole song and dance about what wrath meant. He knew it was lust. No question.
"How—"
"I'd imagine he's got quite the erection, mate," John said, sounding deeply amused by the whole situation. "Judging by what she said, that was probably Ryrana, although it might have been Jilelin."
Bruce did his best to glower at John, but even he knew it wasn't coming across right. He was too out of it, too... too distracted by his own body. He felt hot, a step beyond overheated, and the urge to strip down was damn near overpowering.
Jason looked deeply bothered, although Bruce was having a hard time working out why. Jason was... Well, Jason was attractive, and he'd been around long enough he'd probably experimented, and....
Was he really thinking that? Bruce at least had enough thought left in him to recognize that he usually wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts in his suit. He was supposed to be a professional.
"Wayne," Jason said, voice clipped. "You aren't yourself, and you're going to do something you'll regret later."
"Been here, done this," John said, reaching out, and then....
Suddenly, clarity. The moment John touched him, Bruce's head was clear, and his hand reached out, automatically grabbing John's wrist to keep him from pulling back. If John was giving him clarity, Bruce wasn't going to let him go.
Even if he did still have an erection.
"When I let go, it's going to come back," John said, his voice even. Practiced. Like he'd given this exact speech before and had the whole thing memorized. "I can get you home, if you'd like, but the demon that was in you was a succubus, and she left you with a nasty little surprise. You're going to need to work it out, and you're going to want to be working it out with someone, because if not your cock's going to be raw and bloody by the time you're even halfway done."
An unpleasant thought. The whole thing was unpleasant, and home...
Well, there wasn't anyone waiting back at home.
He had to make a decision, and he had to make one quickly.
"The two of you."
John looked insufferably smug, but Jason's response was surprising: he choked, trying to cover it up with a cough, face going red.
"Us?"
"Both of you. If one is good, two is better."
"You're taking all the romance out of it!" John protested, his hand flipping around to hold Bruce's wrist the same way Bruce was holding his own. "You should be seducing me. I'm not sure you're up to my standards, love."
Bruce took the opportunity to drag John in, jerking his wrist forward as he hauled him into a very unstable kiss.
He hadn't thought about Jason before—he saw the man relatively little—but John? He'd thought about John. He'd thought about how good it would feel to see if the man's bite was as bad as his bark, to see if he could really stack up.
And he turned out to not be too bad of a kisser. John took a few moments to catch on—he never was the brightest bulb—but after a moment his arm wound its way around Bruce's back, kissing him back, all teeth and tongue and force. Fighting for it. Trying to win as much as he was trying to make it good.
Bruce was alright with that.
"Magic ain't going to last, love," John said, voice unusually quiet. "If you've got anything to say before you stop being able to think, now would be the time."
His mind went to Jason, and he pulled back, keeping his hold on John.
"The offer was for three," Bruce said, reaching out his free hand. "That means you, if you're comfortable with it."
The way Jason's eyes ran up and down him was... something. Bruce wanted to say it lit a fire in him, but the fire was already good and lit, threatening to burn him down to nothing and held off only by whatever magic John was pushing into him. It was almost clinical, like Jason had never thought to consider whether or not Bruce was attractive or not.
"I'll participate," Jason finally said after what felt to Bruce like a lifetime, "but in a limited capacity. I don't want to take advantage, just because one of John's exes decided to make you a pawn."
"In two minutes, I won't be able to agree to anything, but right now I'm saying yes. Right now I'm awake."
He pulled away from John, and the fire in his mind pressed in almost instantly. By the time he'd reached Jason, the fire was all there was, every thought, every emotion, every action consumed by it.
He was the fire, and he couldn't wait to see how they all burned together.
Jason's kiss was not like John's. It was hesitant, even wary, uncertain about just what sort of mess John was dragging him into. Bruce pressed his hand to the small of Jason's back, pulling him in closer as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue drag across Jason's lips, getting a good taste of him despite the other man's reluctance.
"Deep breath," John said, very suddenly at their side, and then it was just the three of them on the floor of Jason's study, the fire burning low and casting the whole room in a muted orange glow.
Bruce could think of better places to have a threesome, but he wasn't in those other places.
A rug appeared like magic, and it took Bruce a lazy second to realize that it probably was magic, although he couldn't remember if either John or Jason had spoken. Probably they had. It didn't really matter, not when John had decided to help himself, his hands finding their way to Bruce's ass, slim fingers digging into the meat of it in a way that Bruce was sure he should find irritating, and instead found unbelievably arousing.
"You should try his mouth," Jason said in his ear, and Bruce shivered automatically, earning himself further interest from the older man. As hesitant as he was, Jason ghosted his breath across Bruce's ear, and that was enough to make Bruce's entire body shudder against him.
"He's mouthy enough," Bruce grumbled, twisting in place as he found himself caught between them. He was propped up against Jason, his back to the man's chest, and John was making himself at home between Bruce's legs, leaning up to catch Bruce in another kiss.
"So best make good use of it," Jason chided, reaching forward to tangle his fingers into John's hair and guiding his head down.
John was, it turned out, a bit of an expert at the whole thing. Slim fingers worked Bruce's pants open and off before he had time to really think about things, overwhelmed and deeply distracted by the entire chain of events. One minute they were kissing, and the very next it seemed like John had managed to get Bruce's pants down around his knees and was making sure they reached the floor in record time.
"Not bad," John commented when he'd managed to pull Bruce's underwear fully clear, and Bruce supposed that it was a sure sign of how impossibly turned on he was that he didn't even feel embarrassed by the obvious goad. How could he be, when John's mouth was maybe six inches away and just begging to have something in it?
Something Bruce was happy to oblige. He reached up, dug his fingers into John's hair, and pulled his head right down. He didn't quite land right, his face burying itself in Bruce's crotch, but it was still enough. John's warm breath against his cock was enough to drive him wild, his mouth hanging slightly open as his hips rocked upwards.
The fire—the burn—was pressing back in. Whatever John had done to keep it at bay was no longer helping. At best, it was blunting the edges, making it livable but little more.
He was going to have to deal with livable. He was going to have to accept it, because the only other alternative was that it would burn him down to nothing.
John said something between his legs—probably something filthy, but Bruce wasn't in a state to really listen—and then cool skin pressed against his cock. Not even lips, but the side of John's face, the faintest hint of stubble before he withdrew, slipping back down against to finally, finally take the head of Bruce's cock into his mouth.
Bruce could have cried. He very nearly did, overwhelmed and overstimulated before they'd even really started. Jason was his rock, the only thing keeping him upright, and it felt impossibly satisfying when Jason's arms wrapped around his torso, keeping him still and stopping him from choking John to death with enthusiastic thrusts Bruce was barely aware he was making.
"You've got time," Jason reminded him. "We've got all night, if we need."
John's mouth was everything Bruce had heard and more. Perfectly soft, without a hint of teeth, wet and hot, and most importantly all encompassing. They'd barely even started and he'd already swallowed Bruce all the way down to the base, the head of Bruce's cock nudging against what had to be the back of Constantine's throat.
"No gag reflex," Jason observed.
Bruce didn't care. He wasn't sure he cared about anything right then, not when John's mouth was the only thing in the whole world he wanted. He wanted more, and he was already at his limit, already buried so deep. When John pulled back, Bruce choked, writhing in Jason's grip as the older man quieted him, keeping him from screaming with a few distracting touches.
He was going to cum. He knew he was going to cum, but knowing didn't change a thing. He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but shudder in place, eyes squeezing tightly shut as he tried to warn John, tried to say something, anything...
Nothing.
Instead, he came down John's throat with a shout that was almost a scream and absolutely no warning at all.
It was bliss. Bruce wasn't sure he'd ever felt so absolutely lost in his own head, floating on air even as John pulled back, coughing to clear his airway. He sagged against Jason, and Jason kept him upright, ever so gently running his fingers through Bruce's hair as he came down from what had to be the fastest orgasm of his life.
He was still hard. Why was he still hard?
Why was the fire still there, burning through him, like he was never going to have enough?
"Not the most pleasant experience I've had," John said, straightening up between Bruce's legs.
"It's not enough," Bruce said. Or tried to say, the whole thing coming out a lot more prolonged than he intended. A lot more like a moan or a whimper or a gasp, or something he'd never be caught dead saying otherwise.
"Didn't think it would be, love," John replied immediately. "The kind of magic a succubus is dealing in isn't hedge magic. It's powerful stuff."
"And you'll have to bottom," Jason said behind him.
Bruce stared into space, trying to process what he'd just heard. He was having a hard time connecting the dots between the two points.
"Why?" He made himself ask, but it was pointless. Just hearing it stirred something in him, and he felt an instinctive desire to just lean even harder on Jason and let John work his magic.
He could probably do amazing things with those fingers of his.
"Succubus is from succubare, Latin," Jason explained, far more patient than any teacher Bruce had ever met. "To lie under. A succubus is one because they bottom. An incubus is on top. They aren't named for their gender."
Oh.
"Don't you worry your head," John cut in, his fingers dragging across the meat of Bruce's thigh before finally pulling his underwear completely off. "I'll make it good for you, sweetheart."
His wink was equal parts exaggerated and unappreciated, but a finger pressing right in was most certainly not.
Bruce forced himself still, his breathing heavy, and then abruptly decided that he wasn't going to be the only one involved, leaning up as much as he could to try and kiss Jason.
Jason allowed the gesture, but only hesitantly, his hand running lightly down Bruce's side.
"You aren't interested," Bruce said, the last word little more than a gasp as John pressed a second finger in, starting to open him up. It wasn't his first time, not by a long shot, but having John doing it was one thing, and the feeling of fire running through his veins was something else entirely.
"You misunderstand," Jason corrected, "I don't want to lead you on. My interest in sex is... minimal."
"No interest in birds or blokes," John added, as if Bruce was too out of his mind to understand.
"Oh," Bruce said, and then bit at his tongue, stopping himself from saying anything further. He was going to put his foot in his mouth if he did, because Jason was attractive, and Bruce was absolutely not in his right mind right then. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to compose his answer, the length drawn out significantly by John's ministrations.
"I didn't mean to drag you into this," Bruce said, but he knew even that wasn't coming out properly. For one thing, he was blushing and hard as a rock, and for another his arms had wound up despite himself, draping themselves loosely across Jason's shoulders.
"You couldn't have dragged me in if I hadn't been alright with it," Jason said, his hands resting against Bruce's bare skin. He was still fully clothed, Bruce realized, unlike John who seemed to be tossing clothes to the side every time Bruce so much as glanced at him. "I'm perfectly happy to assist."
"Oh, you'll be assisting alright," John cut in, the insinuation impossible to miss. "Hold him still while I get him ready. If not, he's going to end up hurt, and none of us wants that."
Jason's grip was surprisingly strong as he reached out, grabbing Bruce's wrists and holding him still. Or maybe Bruce was just weak, every bit of strength gone as John withdrew his fingers, pressing in something cold and wet.
Lube, probably, but all Bruce could feel as the cold. It felt like it was dragging him down, like John had just filled him to the brim with ice, and he caught himself shaking in Jason's grip, shuddering from the cold.
"You couldn't have warmed that?" Jason asked, giving words to what Bruce was thinking.
"I couldn't have, actually," John countered. "It's magic, and the magic sputters if it gets too warm before application."
"Do I want to know what it does?" Bruce said, unsure if he was even audible over the sound of his teeth chattering.
"You do," John countered, "but you'll find out later."
And then he pushed in, and everything went white.
For a moment, there was nothing other than the three of them, their bodies pressed together. Sometimes, there wasn't even that, just John's cock and nothing more. Even more; there's nothing but the pleasure.
There was nothing, and as he comes back to himself—as he became aware of John fucking into him as Jason whispered quiet reassurances in his ear—he felt a moment of fear.
How could he ever reach that again? It felt like nothing he would ever do was ever going to be as good as that just was, that one perfect, blissful moment as John Constantine had shoved into him, giving him what he'd so desperately needed. Was he going to spend the rest of his life chasing that, searching desperately for something even half as good?
"Don't get lost in your own head," Jason said, his voice cutting through the haze. "Stay in the moment, Wayne."
Bruce tried to cling to the details. To the way John felt as he rocked into him, to the way his legs had gone numb, spread wide by John's hands. To the beads of sweat on the other man's forehead, the desperation in his eyes.
Bruce wanted him. He wanted everything, but he wanted him enough to reach up, grabbing John's arm and pulling him down so that John was hovering over him, his face only an inch away as he hunched, still for the first time since he'd pushed in.
Bruce kissed him, or maybe John kissed him first, but it didn't matter because it was good and right and...
And Jason. He was ignoring him.
Bruce twisted, pulling Jason into a kiss, and the other man accepted it, resting his hand against Bruce's chest as he deepened the kiss of his own free will.
Involved. Participating.
It was good, but not as good as when John abruptly remembered where his dick was, snapping his hips forward just once, almost tentative, before finally getting back to it properly, jackhammering his hips in with every bit of energy he had left.
Not that he had much. Bruce arched into it, pressing against John for added friction, but it wasn't enough. It was good, but it wasn't satisfying, and he didn't feel himself getting any closer to orgasm, even as it became more and more obvious that John was.
"Wayne," John choked out. "Bruce." He made the name sound like a dirty word, like something unbelievably sexy, and the way his hips were stuttering would have driven Bruce mad if he wasn't already there.
"Don't stop," Bruce begged, but it was a foregone conclusion as John shoved in hard, his body pressed skin to skin as he leaned over Bruce fully, pressing them together as he came deeper inside Bruce than anyone had ever been before.
Bruce let out a groan of frustration, leaning back against Jason as he squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't John's fault. John had done just fine. The problem was him, and the fact that he was hard, and the fact that he felt like he was going to be hard until the day he died at the rate he was going.
"Not exactly a stroke to my ego to see how hard you still are," John mumbled, looking embarrassed for what was probably the first time in his life. He reached forward, slim fingers wrapping around Bruce's cock, and Bruce hissed in response, eyes scrunching together.
"That isn't going to do it," Jason said, giving voice to Bruce's thoughts. "He's going to need to be properly satisfied, not given a sloppy handjob, John."
John scowled at him. On any other day, Bruce would have thought the whole thing was amusing, but the growing sense of frustration wasn't going away. It was only getting worse.
"You think you can do better?" John snapped.
"No," Jason said flatly, "but it was never going to be me."
He leaned over, his face hovering over Bruce's. His expression was pinched, almost worried. It seemed wrong, in light of what was happening, and Bruce reached up instinctively, fingers tracing across Jason's cheek.
"Etrigan?"
"I'm not interested in this sort of thing, Bruce, but the same doesn't extend to him. He'd like the time out, and I don't mind helping you through this."
"You'll be in Hell."
Bruce hated the idea of it, of Jason going to Hell so that he could enjoy himself.
He expected Jason to be just as upset, but instead Jason just laughed.
"He's a prince, Bruce. He wants to incentivize me to stay in Hell as long as I might want. I have a room. There are books. I'll be just fine for however long you take."
Oh. Bruce had never really understood how Jason's curse worked, but then it was magic, and he tried to stay away from it as much as possible. Sometimes, it felt like just knowing how it all worked invited more of it into his life, and the last thing he wanted was more magic.
"Are you alright with that?" Jason asked, his face serious once more. "He is a demon, and it was a demon who put you into this situation."
If he'd make the burning stop, Bruce didn't care what he was, so he nodded, making it as obvious as possible. "Go ahead."
"Then you'll want to pull back," John said, seemingly having recovered at least partially as he reached down, helping Bruce—cock still painfully hard—move away. "Hellfire isn't pleasant against your skin."
Jason looked the two of them over, obviously preparing himself, and then offered a small smirk.
"Oh, and he won't have any real context for what's happening," he announced, moments before starting his rhyme. "Gone! Gone O' form of man! Rise the demon Etrigan!"
Bruce flinched back from the fire, and then it was over, and Etrigan was standing in the study, staring down at the two of them.
It was an absurd situation, the two of them naked on the floor, sprawled out on a rug like they were out of some sort of low-budget porn. Etrigan only served to make the situation more riddiculous, his usual outfit being far from anything Bruce would ever describe as sexy.
Bruce expected confusion, but he didn't get it.
Only a few seconds after being summoned, Etrigan's face split into a wide grin, his eyes shifting down to where Bruce was sprawled, his cock still very visible and very hard.
"I see at last my time has come," Etrigan announced, "so now it's time to make you cum."
"That was terrible," John groaned. "It shouldn't even count as a rhyme."
It didn't matter. Etrigan had already crossed the short distance between them, bending down to grab at Bruce. His hand was large enough to cover most of Bruce's neck and a decent chunk of his shoulder, and he simply pulled Bruce where he wanted him, getting him sitting upright before pressing in for something that Bruce didn't even want to call a kiss.
Kisses generally involved a lot less teeth and didn't leave him feeling like he was going to bruise.
Not that he wanted it to stop. No, the fact that Etrigan was being insufferably rough was only making him harder, and Bruce squirmed, rubbing his legs together for some desperate friction.
John was doing what he could, helping to provide some much needed support as Bruce threatened to topple over under Etrigan's attention, but Etrigan was so rough that Bruce had almost no say in what was happening at all.
Etrigan clearly knew what he was there for, because he was wasting no time in getting just what he wanted. He dragged Bruce down, pressing Bruce's ass against his thighs, and then reaching down to undo his own belt.
He wasn't wearing underpants, but Bruce didn't have time to consider the implications before Etrigan simply pulled his cock out, resting it against Bruce's own.
It was terrifying, as thick of Bruce's wrist at least, and it wasn't even properly hard.
His mouth watered.
"I need it," Bruce said. He didn't even remember deciding to say it, just suddenly he was, his desperation reaching a fever peak. "Please. Please please please." He was babbling, damn near incoherent, and he didn't even have the sense to worry about the fact that John was watching.
Not that it mattered.
"Bloody hell," John hissed under his breath, eyes fixed to the monster in front of them.
"Everyone who looks likes what they see," Etrigan said, "never fear, I've heard your pleas."
He pulled his hips back, lining the head of his still hardening cock against Bruce's hole, and then started to shove in.
He should have torn in half, Bruce knew. It was too big to fit, too huge.
And yet it was fitting. It hurt, but his body was opening just the same, slowly accommodating Etrigan's massive girth. He was spreading and spreading and spreading, and Bruce's eyes couldn't help but water as a noise was fucked out of him.
He felt like there was no air in his lungs. He felt like he was going to die.
He wouldn't change it for the world. He felt so full, like every part of him had been filled up to the brim. He was so close, just from Etrigan pushing in, and—
Etrigan pulled out.
Bruce made a noise. It wasn't even a word, just an incoherent beg, a desperate sound. He needed it. He needed Etrigan inside of him or he was going to go insane. He needed—
Etrigan flipped him over, dropping Bruce face-first in John's lap before grabbing Bruce's ankles, dragging him backwards to shift his position. It wasn't even doggy style, because Bruce didn't have the benefit of getting his arms to support him. His knees took the brunt of it as Etrigan moved him as he wanted, getting onto his own knees behind Bruce.
And then he was pushing inside again, and everything was right.
"You're quite the pretty picture right now," John said, voice quiet, almost gentle. His fingers trailed across Bruce's face, through the trails his tears had left.
Bruce didn't even remember crying.
"Are you alright? I need a nod from you."
Bruce wasn't sure why John was asking. What was he going to do, ask Etrigan politely to stop? But it didn't matter, because Bruce wanted it. He was as alright as he was going to be, and he wanted it, wanted to be fucked into the floor by someone so much bigger than him that it barely felt real.
And he got his wish. He'd barely nodded when Etrigan got impatient, slamming his hips forward so hard that it punched the air right out of Bruce, his entire body arching as his eyes rolled back in his head. He felt like Etrigan's cock was nudging against his lungs, buried so deep that he'd never know peace again.
He would never forget what it felt like. He would spend the rest of his life chasing this high.
"You're doing so well," John said, voice gentle. He was the only support Bruce was going to get as Etrigan pulled back out, fucking right back in without a moment's hesitation. The pace the demon set was brutal, the force of each thrust shoving Bruce harder against John, but John didn't seem to mind, fingers gentle as they combed through Bruce's hair. "You're taking it like a champ."
Bruce mumbled something incoherent, unsure of what he was even trying to say. To thank him? To tell John that the sex had been good, that it was what the demon had done to him making him like this? He didn't know. He wasn't sure he cared. His entire existence seemed to narrow down to the massive cock that was splitting him in half.
Etrigan didn't even have to try and make it good. Even if Bruce hadn't been drowning in the succubus's curse he'd have loved it, because Etrigan's cockhead was flared in just such a way to grind against Bruce's prostate on each and every thrust. It was simply too large—it wasn't even possible to miss it.
Bruce whited out as he came, entire body shuddering. He didn't even get any warning, the pleasure relentless and unceasing. One minute he was there, and the next there was nothing, just a wave of pleasure that consumed every part of him.
Etrigan didn't stop. He didn't even pause, fucking in and out relentlessly, and as Bruce's high started to recede, he shuddered under the pressure of it.
He was half-hard and near the end—he could tell that much—but Etrigan clearly had no intention of letting him stop, grinding against his prostate relentlessly.
"Oh, did you think we were done?" Etrigan asked, his smile cruel. "Not until I've had my fun."
Bruce's body was starting to ache under the absolutely relentless demon above him, but Etrigan showed no sign of stopping. He was a single-minded creature of lust, to the point where even John—who had without a doubt been described similarly in the past—seemed in awe.
"You're almost through," John said, trying to sound reassuring. "Bet you're happy for the lube I gave you, aren't you?"
Bruce was beyond words. He couldn't have answered if he wanted to, and right then he didn't even really want to. All he wanted was for the moment he was in to last forever, for the feeling of being taken apart by the demon above him to just keep on lasting.
He was nothing but a hole, and he loved it.
A scaled finger dragged down his spine, and Bruce let out a sob. He was hard again, hard as a rock, and the head of his cock was rubbing against his own mess on the floor, his hips getting lower and lower as his legs failed, no longer able to support him. Etrigan seemed to recognize as much, because he reached down, grabbing Bruce's hip and hauling him back into position, supporting his weight like he weighed nothing at all.
"There you go," John said, helping support his head so it didn't rub against the floor. He was being gentle, treating Bruce like he was made out of glass, but it was hard to miss that he was half-hard himself, his erection close to Bruce's face. He wanted to suck it, and he made an attempt that didn't go anywhere as John carefully nudged him to the side, away from his cock. "No offense, love, but I want that intact, and I can't trust you're not going to use some teeth when the demon over there finishes you off."
Bruce wouldn't trust himself either. It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything, impossible to do anything other than squirm in place and moan incoherently every time Etrigan slammed back in. His cock, if it was possible, seemed to be getting bigger, and Bruce's eyes started to water at the overload.
Too much. But he didn't want it to stop.
He wanted it to be done. But he didn't want it to ever end.
He didn't know what he wanted, but it didn't matter, because he wasn't in control right then.
Etrigan slammed all the way in, and then suddenly Bruce was warm. Etrigan's cum wasn't just thick, it was hot, not quite burning but impossible to miss as he came. Even more alarming, it just kept going, and Bruce let out a choked noise as the feeling of being more full than he'd ever been in his life and filled with something deliciously comfortable pushed him over the edge. He came on the floor, his cock entirely untouched, and Etrigan held him firmly in place with two clawed hands.
He didn't stop. It should have been over, but instead Etrigan was still cumming, filling Bruce until he could feel the demon's cum leaking out his ass onto the floor.
"Oh," John said, something off about his voice. When Bruce managed to turn his head, he found the mage's eyes blown wide as he stared. "You're glowing."
He was.
The cum apparently gave off enough light that Bruce could see it faintly through his own skin, his stomach bloated from how much had been—and still was, although it was tapering off—pumped into him. Etrigan seemed proud of himself, the fins of his ears seeming to flare, and one clawed nail trailed down the curve of Bruce's ass, getting dangerously close to his hole.
"Careful," John said before Bruce could muster up the energy to say the same thing.
"The man before me is quite young," Etrigan said, eyes fixed on John, "so I'd remind him to hold his tongue."
He seemed to consider himself done, because he began to pull out, the wet noise seeming to fill the room as Bruce cringed. It sounded like—
Well, like it was all going to leak out, which it did. The rug under them was ruined, and Bruce was ruined, his asshole twitching as it tried to clamp down on something that wasn't there. He wasn't proud of the whimper he made, either.
Etrigan rested a hand on the flesh of Bruce's back, and Bruce shivered for a very different reason. It felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant either.
"It's been fun having you under my thrall, so should you need help you need only call."
And then, like the absolute bastard he was, Etrigan vanished in a burst of too-hot flame, leaving Jason behind. Bruce yelped, jerking forward, but there wasn't any real pain, just the heat.
"Oh dear," Jason said, standing over the pair of them and observing the absolute mess that his other half had left behind. "Etrigan seems to have enjoyed himself."
"The curse has worked its way out of his system," John added. His arms were draped loosely around Bruce's shoulders, almost protective, and Bruce felt his face burning from embarrassment at the whole situation. What had he done?
Well, he'd had the best fuck of his life, for one, even if he seriously doubted he'd be able to take Etrigan's cock again without some magical help.
Not that he wasn't strongly considering trying.
"Why don't we get you cleaned up," Jason said, gesturing to the doorway. "There's a large tub upstairs that I think you'd appreciate." His eyes drifted low, resting on Bruce's ass, and then he shook his head. "And I'd appreciate if you didn't leak the whole way up the stairs."
Bruce wasn't going to make any promises.