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noelia_gTitle: Night Lights (chapter eleven)
Pairing: Gordon/Batman, eventually.
Rating: NC-17
previous parts
"You know, I haven't actually written a ticket in seven years, but for you I think I will," Gordon muttered, slowly flexing his fingers, which were stiff and sore after gripping the edge of his seat for the last fifteen minutes.
Bruce laughed. "I'm sure there are better ways to tell me you think I'm special."
"Very special," Jim agreed, getting out of the car. "I can't even begin to describe it."
"If I didn't know better, I would think you were insulting me somehow, commissioner," Bruce said innocently and smiled, waving his hand widely. "Shall we?"
Gordon frowned, taking a moment to assess their location, something he hadn't done before on account of holding on for dear life. "I thought you said lunch."
"I do have a kitchen in my apartment. With a well-stocked fridge, I assume."
He rolled his eyes at the casual tone and the unabashed grin. "If I didn't know better," he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "I would think you had an ulterior motive."
Bruce smiled, his hand brushing Jim's as the made their way to the elevator. "You might be right."
He definitely was, as the very moment the elevator's doors closed, Bruce pulled him closer. This time, however, Gordon wasn't surprised, and he met the kiss halfway, his arms rising, hands running along Bruce's arms. He hadn't realised they were both moving until his back hit the wall. "Fuck," he muttered against Bruce's lips, causing the other man to smile.
"Great idea," Bruce announced cheerfully, and started tugging at Gordon's tie, easing it off. Jim was already working on the most efficient way to get Bruce's jacket off.
The doors slid open almost soundlessly, and a polite cough followed. "Welcome home, Master Bruce. Commissioner. Lunch is ready," Bruce's butler announced evenly, and passed a flustered Gordon and a bemused Bruce on his way to the elevator. "I'll be taking the rest of the day off, if you don't mind, sir."
Bruce laughed, and gently pushed Gordon into the apartment, waving. "Thank you, Alfred." He turned to look at Jim as the elevator closed shut. "Where were we?"
Gordon rolled his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I stopped at mortified. I don't think I can recover," he added dryly.
All he got in return was a smirk, and Bruce moving towards him with smooth determination. "I think we both know this isn't true," he said, his voice dangerously low. He bit his lip when undoing Gordon's belt, and Gordon really shouldn't find that both arousing and endearing, but he did. The endearing part gave way quickly, leaving just the arousal, as Bruce's fingers moved to the zipper, and then, fuck, yes, then his hand was inside Jim's pants, moving slowly and purposefully.
It was exactly like Gordon had imagined it would be, only a thousand times better, with Bruce's breath tickling the skin of his neck, warm and soft, followed by his lips and tongue. Gordon felt the wall against his back again, and threw his head back, granting Bruce a better access to... well, whatever he wanted, Jim didn't care much at this point, as long as he kept on touching him like that.
The hold Bruce had on him grew fainter, and he was almost pulling away when Gordon caught his hips and held on. Maybe Bruce was just going to suggest they moved to a more comfortable location, but Gordon was not taking his chances. He was not thinking it over, not stopping. "Don't you dare stop this time," he said hoarsely, his voice strained.
Bruce tried for a laugh, Gordon could see, but hadn't quite managed; his eyes clouded and dark. "Not this time," he agreed, and helped Gordon ease his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. He returned to the task of palming Jim's cock, his hand sneaking into Jim's boxers, knee spreading Gordon's legs a little wider. It felt like too much, Jim's hips moving almost all on their own, in a perfect synch with the strokes. He moaned, grasping Bruce's shirt to hold on, fingers clenching on the material, pushing it up.
"Fuck, Jim," Bruce groaned into his ear, and Gordon gave in, moaning, his fingers digging into Bruce's skin, right at the edge of the rough texture of the wound he had…
His eyes flew open, and he was coming, leaning into Bruce with his whole body, shaking.
"Jim," Bruce muttered, his voice hoarse and oh so familiar.
Gordon moved, shifting so he could meet his eyes, searching. "Batman," he said softly.
part twelve
Pairing: Gordon/Batman, eventually.
Rating: NC-17
previous parts
"You know, I haven't actually written a ticket in seven years, but for you I think I will," Gordon muttered, slowly flexing his fingers, which were stiff and sore after gripping the edge of his seat for the last fifteen minutes.
Bruce laughed. "I'm sure there are better ways to tell me you think I'm special."
"Very special," Jim agreed, getting out of the car. "I can't even begin to describe it."
"If I didn't know better, I would think you were insulting me somehow, commissioner," Bruce said innocently and smiled, waving his hand widely. "Shall we?"
Gordon frowned, taking a moment to assess their location, something he hadn't done before on account of holding on for dear life. "I thought you said lunch."
"I do have a kitchen in my apartment. With a well-stocked fridge, I assume."
He rolled his eyes at the casual tone and the unabashed grin. "If I didn't know better," he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "I would think you had an ulterior motive."
Bruce smiled, his hand brushing Jim's as the made their way to the elevator. "You might be right."
He definitely was, as the very moment the elevator's doors closed, Bruce pulled him closer. This time, however, Gordon wasn't surprised, and he met the kiss halfway, his arms rising, hands running along Bruce's arms. He hadn't realised they were both moving until his back hit the wall. "Fuck," he muttered against Bruce's lips, causing the other man to smile.
"Great idea," Bruce announced cheerfully, and started tugging at Gordon's tie, easing it off. Jim was already working on the most efficient way to get Bruce's jacket off.
The doors slid open almost soundlessly, and a polite cough followed. "Welcome home, Master Bruce. Commissioner. Lunch is ready," Bruce's butler announced evenly, and passed a flustered Gordon and a bemused Bruce on his way to the elevator. "I'll be taking the rest of the day off, if you don't mind, sir."
Bruce laughed, and gently pushed Gordon into the apartment, waving. "Thank you, Alfred." He turned to look at Jim as the elevator closed shut. "Where were we?"
Gordon rolled his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I stopped at mortified. I don't think I can recover," he added dryly.
All he got in return was a smirk, and Bruce moving towards him with smooth determination. "I think we both know this isn't true," he said, his voice dangerously low. He bit his lip when undoing Gordon's belt, and Gordon really shouldn't find that both arousing and endearing, but he did. The endearing part gave way quickly, leaving just the arousal, as Bruce's fingers moved to the zipper, and then, fuck, yes, then his hand was inside Jim's pants, moving slowly and purposefully.
It was exactly like Gordon had imagined it would be, only a thousand times better, with Bruce's breath tickling the skin of his neck, warm and soft, followed by his lips and tongue. Gordon felt the wall against his back again, and threw his head back, granting Bruce a better access to... well, whatever he wanted, Jim didn't care much at this point, as long as he kept on touching him like that.
The hold Bruce had on him grew fainter, and he was almost pulling away when Gordon caught his hips and held on. Maybe Bruce was just going to suggest they moved to a more comfortable location, but Gordon was not taking his chances. He was not thinking it over, not stopping. "Don't you dare stop this time," he said hoarsely, his voice strained.
Bruce tried for a laugh, Gordon could see, but hadn't quite managed; his eyes clouded and dark. "Not this time," he agreed, and helped Gordon ease his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. He returned to the task of palming Jim's cock, his hand sneaking into Jim's boxers, knee spreading Gordon's legs a little wider. It felt like too much, Jim's hips moving almost all on their own, in a perfect synch with the strokes. He moaned, grasping Bruce's shirt to hold on, fingers clenching on the material, pushing it up.
"Fuck, Jim," Bruce groaned into his ear, and Gordon gave in, moaning, his fingers digging into Bruce's skin, right at the edge of the rough texture of the wound he had…
His eyes flew open, and he was coming, leaning into Bruce with his whole body, shaking.
"Jim," Bruce muttered, his voice hoarse and oh so familiar.
Gordon moved, shifting so he could meet his eyes, searching. "Batman," he said softly.
part twelve
