The change is apparent, even when he can't see Bruce's expression. He's seen it enough that he can still picture it though, the slight flicker in his eyes as he finally falls out from the distance that he seems to hold like a shield between himself and the world and grounds himself in the now.
'course, it helps that the change also means Bruce loses the carefully controlling actions of before. Hard to miss it when the man starts fucking him almost animalistically, like he's trying to punch the breath out of John with his cock alone. It's never quite enough to completely silence him, but he does fall to sharp curses, fragments of sentences and complaints cut off as Bruce draws back and slams into him again. Even the periods where he pauses only serve to drag more protests from John, too aware of the hot pressure of Bruce's cock at his entrance, deliberately kept back only to pound into him again when he's off-guard.
And he bloody loves all of it, the feeling of Bruce giving in to his own desires and desperation in turn. The only pity is that he'd already been half out of his mind with pleasure (well, maybe more than half) by this point and there's only so long a man can keep it together like this, with the sound of Bruce breathing heavily behind and above him and those hands gripping his hips roughly, keeping him still as he's fucked hard enough he knows he'll be a mess of bruises later.
It's like a jolt of power right up his spine, almost as powerful a rush as magic gives him, and John strains against he leather and Bruce's hands, every muscle feeling taut with effort.
He fucks him to get himself where he needs to be, sinking into that feeling of nothing else existing in his brain. Just for a little while. It's about as long as he can ever manage, only ever letting go when he's having sex.
(Anymore. He slipped too far, into prescriptions and alcohol and downing whole bottles of mood stabilizing medications with other whole bottles of wine. Just to stop thinking. Nothing will ever stop the dark claws dug deep into his mind, and these moments become—
worth something.)
Bruce wants to come, the tension building in him rushing too quickly now towards breaking. He pulls John up, haphazard despite his strength, enough to impale him further on his cock and get one hand beneath his jackknifed form. He wraps a hand around his dick and strokes, catching the other man between the force of his hips and the calloused circle of his fingers.
"Shh," he says, a rough rasp against the back of his shoulder.
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'course, it helps that the change also means Bruce loses the carefully controlling actions of before. Hard to miss it when the man starts fucking him almost animalistically, like he's trying to punch the breath out of John with his cock alone. It's never quite enough to completely silence him, but he does fall to sharp curses, fragments of sentences and complaints cut off as Bruce draws back and slams into him again. Even the periods where he pauses only serve to drag more protests from John, too aware of the hot pressure of Bruce's cock at his entrance, deliberately kept back only to pound into him again when he's off-guard.
And he bloody loves all of it, the feeling of Bruce giving in to his own desires and desperation in turn. The only pity is that he'd already been half out of his mind with pleasure (well, maybe more than half) by this point and there's only so long a man can keep it together like this, with the sound of Bruce breathing heavily behind and above him and those hands gripping his hips roughly, keeping him still as he's fucked hard enough he knows he'll be a mess of bruises later.
It's like a jolt of power right up his spine, almost as powerful a rush as magic gives him, and John strains against he leather and Bruce's hands, every muscle feeling taut with effort.
no subject
(Anymore. He slipped too far, into prescriptions and alcohol and downing whole bottles of mood stabilizing medications with other whole bottles of wine. Just to stop thinking. Nothing will ever stop the dark claws dug deep into his mind, and these moments become—
worth something.)
Bruce wants to come, the tension building in him rushing too quickly now towards breaking. He pulls John up, haphazard despite his strength, enough to impale him further on his cock and get one hand beneath his jackknifed form. He wraps a hand around his dick and strokes, catching the other man between the force of his hips and the calloused circle of his fingers.
"Shh," he says, a rough rasp against the back of his shoulder.