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"Fuck," Jason mutters when he burns himself for the fifth time this morning on the waffle iron. This is the third batch of waffles he's tried making because the first ones looked wrong and the second ones just didn't smell right. He thinks these ones might be okay though, if he just -
"Something smells good," Bruce says. Jason turns around and Bruce is standing in the doorway, scratching idly at his beard, wearing nothing but his boxers.
"Hey," Jason says. "You're not supposed to be up yet."
Bruce grins, comes into the kitchen and kisses the back of Jason's neck. He smells like sleep and sex, and when Jason leans back against him Bruce gives his ass a little squeeze. "I've been up for ages listening to you patter around the kitchen." He takes Jason's hand, looks at the angry red mark on the pad of his thumb. "Did you burn yourself?"
"Just a little," Jason says. "Kinda got in a fight with the waffle iron."
"Poor thing," Bruce says. He brings Jason's hand up to his mouth and kisses his thumb. Jason feels his legs go weak, the way they always do when Bruce touches him. It's been six months since Jason moved in here, four since Bruce stopped telling him no, and still -
"Can I help at all?" Bruce asks.
"No," Jason says. "These are for your birthday."
Bruce groans, brushes his chin against the top of Jason's head. "Don't remind me," Bruce says. "I'm ancient."
"Forty's not ancient," Jason says. He turns around and pushes against Bruce's chest, and he might as well be pushing a brick wall. "Go," he says. "Sit. Read the paper, or whatever old men do."
"Brat," Bruce says, but he tips his head down to kiss Jason before he pours a cup of coffee, then moves over to the counter and sits down.
Jason gets back to work. He has blueberries, cut strawberries, whipped cream, maple syrup - he doesn't actually know what Bruce likes on his Belgian waffles, just that he mentioned liking them once. He can feel Bruce watching him, but this time when the iron beeps, Jason doesn't burn himself. He fixes a plate for Bruce, figures to hell with it and throws on the fruit with some whipped cream on the side, and sets it in front of him.
"These look wonderful, Jay," Bruce says. He folds up his paper and picks up his fork. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Jason says. "You haven't tried them yet. And I might have added too much vanilla with this last batch, so -"
Bruce reaches out and puts his fingers over Jason's mouth. "Come sit with me," he says.
"I should -"
"Jay," Bruce says, and Jason nods and goes to fix himself a plate. When he comes back, Bruce cuts up a small piece of waffle and takes a slow bite. Jason's seen him do this at the restaurant when he's trying new recipes, when he's trying to experience all the flavors or whatever he calls it. Jason's kind of still getting used to having regular meals.
"These," Bruce says when he swallows. "Are delicious."
"Oh," Jason says. Bruce cuts another piece and holds it up to Jason's mouth, and Jason opens up for him while Bruce watches, stares at him hard enough to make him blush.
Bruce is right, though.
"You're getting very good at this," Bruce says.
"Thanks," Jason says. He starts in on his own food. "I like it, you know? Everything coming together and making sense. I mean sometimes you fuck up, but…"
"Sometimes you don't," Bruce says.
Jason nods. "Sorry I couldn't get you like, something real. Hate to tell you this, but dishwashers don't make much."
Bruce laughs, then kisses the top of Jason's head. His breath is warm and his hand on Jason's back feels like it belongs there. "What you give me is real enough."
They finish their breakfast, chattering all the while about the restaurant and what books they've been reading. When Jason gets up to start cleaning up, though, Bruce stops him with his hand on his wrist. "Don't you dare," Bruce says.
"Huh?" Jason asks, and Bruce doesn't say anything, just scoops him up by his hips and sets him down in his lap.
"Don't think I'm not grateful," Bruce says against his jaw. He smells like coffee and sugar. "But there's just something else I want."
Jason grins, squirms in Bruce's lap. He can feel Bruce's dick through his sweatpants, and it just gets him harder. "Oh yeah?" Jason asks.
"Mm," Bruce says.
"Like," Jason stammers as Bruce sucks a bruise into his neck, too far up for any sort of collar to cover. It's not like everyone at the restaurant doesn't know, didn't know that first time they had a fight in Bruce's office and Jason told him he was quitting the restaurant, moving out, all of the above.
"Like what?" Jason finishes.
"I was thinking," Bruce says. He pushes his hands under Jason's shirt, and Jason helps him get it off. "About eating you out for hours and then maybe, if you ask nicely, giving you my cock."
"Bruce," Jason whines. Bruce's breath ghosts over Jason's chest, and his teeth latch onto Jason's nipple.
"Was that a yes?" Bruce asks, looking up at him.
"Anything," Jason says. "Touch me."
Bruce grins. He lifts Jason off his lap long enough to stand and then picks him back up, knocking over one of their plates as he does. "It'll keep," Bruce says, and Jason laughs, giggles against Bruce's neck until they reach the bedroom.
Bruce throws him down on the bed, but for a minute he just leaves Jason lying there, just looks at him.
"What?" Jason asks. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Bruce says. He tugs Jason's sweatpants down, runs his hands over Jason's ass and thighs. "You're beautiful," he says, and it's not the first time Jason's heard it, not even the first time Bruce has said it, but Jason still feels that all the way down his neck.
"Truly," Bruce says. He kisses Jason's chest, his stomach, laps at the precome on the tip of Jason's cock. Jason parts his thighs automatically and Bruce licks down to his balls, sucks them into his mouth and Jason already feels himself shaking. No one's ever done this to him before, ever made him feel like -
"God," Jason moans. "God, please, B."
Bruce hums around his balls, lets them go and then pushes Jason's legs up far enough that he can get to his hole. The first time Bruce did this for him Jason could barely stand it, still felt his thighs shaking from it for hours afterward because it was just too much. But now -
Now, Bruce holds him open and licks and sucks at him, gets him wet until there's spit dribbling down his chin, fucks him with his tongue until Jason can't do anything but say please please please even though he's not sure please what.
It's February and Bruce never keeps the house all that warm, but by the time Bruce eases his index finger in him they're both dripping sweat onto the sheets, and Jason's voice is hoarse from shouting. He's already come once without Bruce touching him, come splattered all over his belly, and when Bruce starts fingering him he moves to lick up the mess.
"Bruce," Jason says. "Bruce, fuck me, fuck me -"
"Hm," Bruce says. He smiles up at Jason, adds a second finger and twists. "I thought I was."
"Not - god," Jason pants. "Not enough. Not - need you in me."
Bruce hums and nods, but he doesn't stop, doesn't stop teasing until Jason says, "Please," again, tugging hard on Bruce's hair when he does. Then Bruce nods, takes his fingers out and sets Jason back on the bed. He leans over him to grab the lube from the nightstand and Jason watches him like he's starved.
Finally, finally, Bruce lifts Jason's legs over his shoulders, grabs his ass and pushes in and they both cry out. Jason reaches up, digs his nails into Bruce's shoulders. He tries to take a breath, but he feels so full.
"Come on," Jason says. Bruce stares down at him, gorgeous blue-grey eyes and his mouth wide open, and then he nods, groans, and starts to move both of them, taking it slow at first until neither of them can take it any way but hard and fast.
The sheets slip under them; the headboard bangs against the wall; the neighbors pound on the ceiling, and neither of them care, neither of them hears anything but the sound of skin against skin, of the two of them saying each others' names. Jason squeezes Bruce with his thighs and Bruce's hands grip his ass hard enough to bruise and when Jason comes this time, he clenches so hard around Bruce that it's less than a minute before Bruce follows.
Bruce pulls out carefully and collapses on top of him. Jason knows he should feel crushed, should tell him to move his gigantic ass, but he kind of doesn't mind at all. He runs his fingers through Bruce's sweaty hair, and Bruce tips his head to look up at him and smile.
It's more that, than anything, that makes the panic set in sometimes, but Jason ignores it.
"Uh," Jason says, because it's the first thing he can think to say. "You didn't wear a condom."
"No," Bruce agrees. He raises an eyebrow as if to say that's what's on your mind?
"I just," Jason says. "I mean, you know, with my past and all, are you sure that's safe?"
Bruce looks at him for a long time. Outside, it's snowing for the third time this week, and tomorrow they'll have to scrape off the car again before work. Bruce always grumbles about it, but Jason kind of enjoys it, in a way.
"I'm safe with you," Bruce says, and Jason shivers, wants to tell him he's being an idiot, but there's a part of him that isn't sure of that at all.
"Hey, old man," Jason says instead. "Happy birthday."
Bruce groans, rolls off him and puts a pillow over his head.