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Damian realized it a second after it had happened.
Not when the shot had gone off. Not when the wall had cracked under the shockwave. Not when Jon had let out that strangled cry.
But when he heard it behind him — that dull sound, unreal and final — a thud that split the air.
The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat.
Smoke drifted slowly through the wreckage, dust hanging like dirty snow. A body lay motionless a few steps away, bent at a wrong angle. The legs were almost completely severed from the body, and the neck nearly torn from the shoulders.
Only then Damian saw it.
And understood.
His heart leapt into his throat. His cape weighed on him like lead. He had seen death before. He had caused it before. He had been trained for it. He had grown up surrounded by it.
But this — this wasn’t him.
It hadn’t been him.
It was Jon.
And if it hadn’t been for Jon, he would probably be dead right now, or at the very least have a sword driven straight through his back, “…Jon,” he whispered.
On the other side of the devastated field, Jon Kent stood frozen. His hands were still outstretched, as if he could rewind the motion, as if he could take back the force he had just unleashed.
His chest rose in uneven breaths.
His eyes — a blue far too clear for that moment — were wide, fixed on what he had done.
Damian knew what was coming. He knew Jon better than anything else, even better than he knew himself. When he shook like that, when his lower lip began to tremble, when he pressed his hands against his stomach — Damian knew Jon needed him.
“No,” Jon murmured. “No, no, no…” His voice was broke; His knees gave out, and he fell forward into the dust. His hands began to shake.
The Teen Titans froze. Raven was holding her breath. Beast Boy couldn’t transform. Conner watched with a mix of shock and painful understanding. They had never seen Jon kill before, and this was by far the most violent death any of them had witnessed. They were scared, maybe even disgusted by what they were seeing, by what Jon was capable of.
But Damian felt none of that. He wasn’t afraid of him. He wasn’t disgusted. He saw Jon. His Jon, breaking apart, realizing what he had done, slowly shattering. He had to do something, and he knew it. But the Titans—none of them—had any idea what existed between him and Jon. They had no clue. Damian had worked so hard to keep it hidden. Hidden, like the flowers Jon tucked into his favorite books.
Jon wasn’t trembling, but each breath came more ragged than the last, each word a whispered, failed prayer. His gaze flicked quickly from the body he had torn apart to his friends, stepping back slowly while he frantically muttered broken whispers: “I didn’t mean— I didn’t— I was— I just—” Panic was swallowing him whole.
Damian moved. He crossed the rubble in a few long strides, ignoring shards of debris, ignoring the blood on the ground, ignoring the other people watching.
Jon was starting to breathe too quickly. His fingers clawed at his nearly fine hair as if to tear it out. His body—invulnerable to almost everything—shook like glass. Damian knew he was about to lose control, to lose himself completely.
“Jon.” He called.
No response.
Damian knelt in front of him, cupping his face in his hands, “Jon, look at me.”.
The blue eyes lifted to him, but didn’t really see. They were lost, drowning in guilt. Damian knew Jon didn’t kill. He wasn’t like him—he had killed more people than he could remember—but Jon was good. He was like his father.
“I killed him,” Jon whispered. “Damian, I—he’s dead. I—” His voice broke into a sound that wasn’t even a word anymore.
Something inside Damian’s chest snapped. He couldn’t watch him like this.
He didn’t hesitate.
He pulled him close.
It was instinctive, fierce, protective.
He hugged him tightly, guided Jon’s head to his chest, and stroked his back.
It was the first time he had done this in public.
In front of the Titans.
The cape wrapped around them both as Damian held him close, one hand behind Jon’s head, the other pressed to his back. He didn’t know how to feel about being seen, thinking he might never manage it—but now it felt natural, as if the others didn’t exist, as if it was just the two of them. Maybe this was what love did: it made everything else fade when the other was in danger or hurting.
Jon stayed stiff for a second, as if he didn’t understand, maybe because he really didn’t.
Then he collapsed.
He clung to Damian desperately, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit. His body shook with silent sobs he tried to stifle. He couldn’t stop thinking about that body, what he had done. He hadn’t meant to kill—he just wanted to stop him. He really just wanted to stop him. Jon couldt stop asking himself what was happening, He didn't understand what was going through his mind; he'd never wanted to kill, never. But when he'd seen that man aiming at Damian, he hadn't been able to. He'd reacted instinctively. And now it was as if he'd awakened from a trans state where he'd had no control over his body.
“Don’t look,” Damian murmured into his hair. “Close your eyes.”
Jon obeyed. He buried his face in Damian’s neck, smelling the skin, the same scent that had comforted him every night.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay… just… don’t look,” Damian repeated, softer. “I’m here.”
The silence around them was heavy, but no one spoke.
Raven lowered her gaze awkwardly, feeling out of place and a little guilty for even glancing at Jon, even for a second. Beast Boy turned toward a distant corner, everything calm now but somehow still searching for another monster to destroy. Conner stepped back, giving them space, but kept a careful eye on the situation. It was strange for him, but what Jon had done… was strange. Jon had been acting out of character and had a bad feeling about that.
Damian felt Jon’s heart beating too fast against his own chest; “Breathe,” he told him. “Try—just try to breathe.” He took Jon’s hand and pressed it to his chest. “My love… please, you’re scaring me,” he whispered into his ear. Damian felt the sting in his eyes; Jon was everything to him, and seeing him like this… it was unbearable.
Jon tried. He failed. His breaths grew more erratic. He wanted to do what Damian asked, to calm himself, but the image of that man breaking apart, the guttural sound he had made when struck, echoed in his mind. He felt pain, he didn't understand what he had done, what had happened, what had possessed his mind and why now the fear had returned.
Damian brought a hand to Jon’s hair, stroking it slowly, with a gentleness no Titan had ever seen from him.
“Breathe with me,” he whispered. “One… two…”
Jon tried to follow the rhythm, feeling the worst of Damian rising slowly beneath his hand. It was the most reassuring thing he had ever felt.
“I didn’t mean to,” he sobbed. “I thought I could control it— I thought— he was about to hit you, I—”
“I know.” Damian held him tighter. “I know, Jonny… it’s okay.” It was the first time he had done this without holding back, without worrying about who was watching. Strange, but natural.
Jon was still trembling.
Damian lifted his face slightly. “Look at me.”
Blue eyes, red-rimmed and wet cheeks.
He hated everything that had happened, but more than anything, he hated how it made Jon feel.
Damian pressed his forehead to his, “You’re not this,” he said firmly. “You’re not a killer.”
“But I—”
“It was a mistake.”
Jon shook his head, desperate. “No—no— I— I did it,” he stammered. “I— killed him— it was me.”
“No, you didn’t. It’s okay.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt— he was— he was so close to you,” Jon said, trembling harder with every word.
Damian didn’t let him sink back into panic. He kissed his forehead gently. Jon curled into him. Damian’s scent was the only thing keeping him there, keeping him from running away. Then Jon lifted his head slowly, looking at Damian’s face. Serious, at first glance, but Jon knew him too well: he saw the tiny tremor in his pupils, the little nervous tick in his eyelids. Jon leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
Damian felt his blood freeze in his veins, but he didn’t pull away. He thought of the team still watching, felt their eyes like daggers at the back of his neck, but by now, he almost didn’t care. Their cover was gone—none of that mattered.
He returned the kiss slowly. Sweet. Slow. Damian’s lips pressed gently against Jon’s.
Jon froze for a second. Damian would usually push him away, but now he let him. Jon clung tighter, as if this contact was the only thing he wanted right now.
When they parted, Jon was still trembling.
“Don't go,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” Damian replied.
He pulled him close again, stroking the back of his neck, leaving small kisses in his hair, on his temple, on his forehead. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care about the secret.
In this moment, only Jon mattered.
“I want to leave.” Jon’s voice was barely a breath, pressed against Damian’s chest, the words fading into the fabric of his cape.
The tremor that accompanied them hurt.
Not a physical pain—Damian was used to that—but something deeper, heavier. His heart clenched in a vise. He couldn’t bear it.
“Please… Damian…” The plea was the drop that made everything overflow.
Damian didn’t hesitate, “Yes,” he said firmly. “Let’s go now.”
He ran a hand through Jon’s hair slowly, placing a light, protective kiss there. His lips lingered a moment longer, as if they could absorb some of the pain.
“Can you walk?”
Jon swallowed. His body still shook, but less violently. His breaths were uneven, but no longer broken by pure panic.
He nodded.
A small, almost imperceptible gesture.
He didn’t speak. Maybe he didn’t trust his voice. Maybe he was afraid that opening it again would make him collapse. He was calming slowly, but in his eyes, the desperate urgency remained. The need for distance. Silence. A place far from that still body, far from that thud that echoed in his head.
He just wanted to leave.
As far away as possible.
Damian understood without another word.
Gently, he helped loosen Jon’s grip just enough for him to stand. But he didn’t let go—an arm stayed firmly around his back, a hand pressed between his shoulder blades like an anchor.
Only then did Damian turn to the team.
The Teen Titans’ eyes were on them.
There was no overt judgment, but there was confusion. Concern. Questions hanging in the air. Beast Boy bit his lip. Raven kept her arms crossed, the dark aura around her barely perceptible. Even Bart, usually incapable of staying still, was frozen.
Then Conner took a step forward.
His eyes landed on Jon, he knew something was wrong searching for something in the ground, pausing for a long moment before finally meeting Damian’s gaze.
For a heartbeat, they stayed like that, silent, until Conner gave a small nod. “Go.”
At that, Damian rose slowly. A moment later, supporting Jon with one arm, he helped him to his feet. Damian could have sworn he saw Jon pick something off the ground and tuck it around his neck, but he said nothing. He turned back to Conner, offering a brief nod in return. Not the type to voice thanks, but the message came across.
He rose carefully, making sure not to unbalance Jon. He felt Jon’s weight against his side—not because it was too much, but because Jon wasn’t really walking on his own.
He slid an arm around Jon’s shoulders, drawing him closer. The other hand stayed steady at his waist, ready to support him if his legs gave out again.
“Don’t look back,” he murmured softly, just for him.
Jon tilted his head slightly against his shoulder.
Together, they took the first step.
Then another.
Damian could still feel the trembling under his fingers, but also Jon’s desperate determination to move away.
They stopped only when the sounds of the team had faded, swallowed by the wind through the trees. The forest was dense, pierced by thin beams of moonlight slicing through the tall branches. The scent of damp earth and crushed leaves overpowered the acrid tang of battle. Damian guided Jon wordlessly, choosing an almost invisible path, until they found a small hidden clearing among the trees.
It was tiny, sheltered by wild white rose bushes. The arching branches formed a natural barrier, dense and intertwined. The pale petals stood out against the dark green, delicate and silent, as if they belonged to a different world than the one they had just left behind.
Jon stopped. “Here’s fine,” he said softly. His hands still trembled, though less than before. He let Damian guide him to a patch of softer grass, away from the thorns.
Damian shrugged off his cape and spread it on the ground without thinking, then helped Jon sit. He knelt before him, studying him closely. Blue eyes were glossy, red-rimmed; his face paler than usual, but his lips were beginning to regain color.
“Breathe,” he murmured again.
Jon inhaled, but his breath broke halfway. He brought his hands to his face, as if trying to erase an image that kept replaying behind his eyelids.
“I keep hearing it,” he whispered. “That sound.” he looked mad now "It should have stopped now, I should not be afraid anymore... it stopped working" He said in a whisper under his breath, Damian you don't hear it but you feel a little shiver
Damian leaned closer until their knees nearly touched. He took Jon’s wrists gently and lowered his hands from his face.
“Look at me.”
Jon obeyed, though it seemed painful.
The forest was quiet around them. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the sweet scent of white roses mingled with the cool night air.
“Nothing happened,” Damian said slowly, enunciating every word. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.”
Jon shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I know.”
This time Damian sat beside him, not in front. He draped an arm around Jon’s shoulders, drawing him against his side. Jon didn’t resist. He let himself be held, resting his forehead against Damian’s collarbone.
The trembling returned, lighter but still present.
Damian began stroking his hair in slow, repetitive motions. Fingers moving with a gentleness few would have imagined in him, but Jon was used to it by now.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “But it’s not true… accidents happen, and you’re not a bad person.”
Jon drew a deep breath, completing it this time. His hands clutched the fabric of Damian’s suit.
“Closer, please,” he whispered, pressing himself further into him. He needed that familiar scent, Damian’s body near his own. It was the only thing that could push everything else away.
Damian tilted his head, brushing his lips against Jon’s temple.
“As close as you need, my love—” he murmured, shifting slightly, letting Jon slide even closer. Jon curled against him, chest pressed to his, arms wrapped around him in a desperate embrace. The cape beneath them crumpled with every movement.
Damian rested his chin on Jon’s head, feeling his trembling hands explore him gently.
Jon sighed into Damian’s chest, letting go, his body slowly relaxing against him. Then, almost without realizing it, he began to press his face even closer, brushing his lips against Damian’s neck. They weren’t kisses, just light touches, like tiny caresses.
Damian felt the warmth of Jon’s body against his own, and instead of pulling away, he held him gently, hands sliding along his back and shoulders.
Jon let himself go completely, pressing even closer to Damian, fingers tangled in the fabric of his suit, breath mingling with his.
Damian, heart racing, responded wordlessly, moving his hands through Jon’s hair and along his back.
Jon moved slowly, still pressing against Damian, and began to trail his lips along the boy’s neck, leaving small, light but insistently warm kisses. Damian felt his heart accelerate, his cheeks flush, and he felt a shock run through his stomac, but immediately a thought struck him, “Jon… the team could come,” he murmured, trying to divert the contact, but without pulling away completely. He knew no one would actually come, not after what Jon had done, but he didn’t fully understand what Jon wanted now. Until a few seconds ago he had been distraught, and even though Jon had explained many times that when he felt strong emotions he needed to release them… this didn’t seem like the right moment, not after everything that had happened.
Jon gave a small smile, his blue eyes glossy, and straightened slightly, taking control of the contact, taller and protective.
“They know it now, Damian. They know it now.i.” He whispered, “You've been so brave… so sweet to me… You deserve this, let me take care of you now.”
Damian looked at him, hands still in Jon’s hair, breath growing heavier at the insistence of the Kryptonian, “They might still come… they might see too much if you keep this up… and I don't need that, I just wanted to help you.”
Jon tilted his head closer, whispering confidently, “They won't come.” And without waiting for an answer, He placed his lips on hers, slowly opening her mouth and delicately inserting his tongue, exploring carefully, as if every movement was a gesture to calm himself more than anything else.
Damian shivered, hands trembling slightly, but for a moment he let himself go, biting his lips lightly to stifle a moan. After a few seconds, damian pulled back "We shouldn't do this... not here" Damian said, he sounded more nervous. Jon looks him up and down breathing half-way and with an intense look, “This… will help me calm down… didn't you want to help me?.”
Damian glanced quickly around, checking the quiet of the forest, then decided to let him continue, telling himself it was just to calm him. Jon wrapped an arm around his waist and positioning Damian on top of his lap, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against his own. Damian’s hands moved through Jon’s hair and along his back, while Jon continued seeking contact, chest pressed against him, breathing still uneven but calmer.
Their lips met again, sweet and slow, and for a moment everything else disappeared. Jon ground his hips against him, and every now and then he reached up to Damian's crotch to check if he was getting hard. And he was, Damian could feel his cock pressing against the rigid suit.
They went on for a while, then something caught Damian’s eye: a thin necklace, hidden beneath Jon’s suit, with a red stone that glimmered faintly in the moonlight filtering through the trees. Damian moved to touch it, curious, but felt Jon’s hand stop his.
Jon lowered his gaze to his hand, and to move it away, he began to kiss her back and wrist, slowly, as if physical contact could replace any word. Damian’s heart raced, not just from the closeness, but from a thought beginning to form: that red stone didn’t seem of this world; maybe what had happened… hadn’t been entirely an accident.
Before he could dwell on it, Jon lifted him gently, pushing him back, and laid him on the cape Damian had spread earlier. Damian felt the warmth of Jon over him, hands light but firm on his shoulders, and for a moment his whole body stiffened at the surprise and intensity of the moment.
Jon leaned on top of him, face close, warm breath brushing his skin, and Damian sensed his determination. The red necklace continued to glimmer on Jon’s chest, a detail he couldn’t ignore, but for a moment it faded into the background as Jon resumed to kiss his lips delicately, slowly and insistently.
Jon remained over Damian, chest against his, legs tight around his hips, breathing still ragged but more steady. Their lips sought each other, slow, insistently sweet. Then, in a trembling whisper, Jon spoke, blue eyes locked on Damian’s green ones,
“I'd do anything to protect you, Damian... really. I need... a little courage, you know..”
Damian looked at him, heart racing from the words and the contact. There was something unsettling in Jon’s determination, something suggesting he was feeding that little voice in his head. But he couldn’t think about that now.
Jon's hands began to slowly groping over Damian's abdomen, under his shirt, delicate but firm. Damian felt the warmth of his skin, his heartbeat quicken, and for a moment everything else disappeared: the forest, the team, the faintly glowing red necklace.
Jon tilted his head, hair brushing Damian’s skin, whispering again,
“I wanted it. Because… you're important, Damian. I can't leave you alone.” He slowly lifted Damian’s shirt, and Damian’s breath hitched, unsure what to do while Jon tossed his own shirt aside.
But whenThe Kryptonian lowered his lips to his chest and began kissing him again. Damian inhaled deeply, letting his hands slide through Jon’s hair, feeling his body move against his, and for a moment accepted the complexity of the situation; Jon had said it would make him feel better, so he wouldn’t resist.
Jon raised his head slowly, moving over Damian, hands brushing his abdomen, gaze fixed on his face. Damian was fully aroused, but his hands were busy caressing Jon.
Then Jon, in a low voice, a whisper Damian felt more like a shiver than a clear word, “I would never have let… something happen to you… but… maybe it had to happen. Because… I had to see how much you could trust me.”
Damian shivered, but didn’t move.
“Jon…” he said cautiously, trying to gauge the tone, “what are you talking about?”
“I didn’t want to… really… but… I felt something inside me… something that… was pushing me.” Jon’s hands tightened on the edge of Damian’s pants, biting his lower lip.
Damian shivered, hands stretched to hold back the tremor, “Jon… what do you mean? Something that was pushing you?”
Jon gave a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, which now held a faint red glow, “Just… a little test, Damian. Because I… I need to know… how long you would have stayed… even if everything had changed… even if I had changed..”
Damian felt his heart pounding, a mix of desire and unease running through his body, “Jon… I don’t understand… you mean that everything… that happened…”
Jon nodded slightly, lowering his face to Damian’s neck, lips brushing the skin, while his hands gripped Damian’s hips to keep them close to his own lap. “I felt… like I couldn't stop… like… if I didn't, you'd die. I had to… because it was the stone… not me… not really.” Jon whispers as he begins to suck the skin of Damian's neck.
Damian stifled a moan as he felt Jon’s lips nibbling and sucking, “do not leav marks kent” he ground out, “I don't want my father to ask me questions.”
But Jon ignored him, leaving a small purple mark right under his jaw. “It wasn't my fault,” Jon said, but the tone was strange, almost obsessive. “It was necessary… to protect you… to see if you would stay. You stayed with me… even when…”
Damian clenched his teeth slightly, the suspicion that had struck him earlier with the red necklace now growing stronger, “Jon… this wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Jon tilted his head slightly, hands stopping again on Damian’s pants and starting to pull them off slowly. “Maybe not… Maybe… everything I do… I do it for you. Even if it seems… wrong..”
Damian felt a shiver run down his spine, a mix of fear and desire, as Jon’s hands continued undressing him. He knew now he should probably stop him.
“I… would do anything to protect you, Damian. I had to do it… for you..”
Damian felt his heart clench, sensing the line between Jon’s need to protect and the terror of what that stone could do if they weren’t careful. But the physical contact continued, irresistible and intense… and he certainly couldn't get Jon off his back, he wasn't strong enough to do it and he didn't have any kryptonite with him because he didn't think he would need it.
“You have to trust me… completely,” Jon whispered. “Even when… you feel like I'm losing control.”
Damian shivered again, a different shiver from desire. He knew Jon wasn’t bad… but those words, the way he said them, with that mix of vulnerability and control, were unsettling, yet incredibly potent in what was happening to him. Jon pulled Damian's pants down completely, revealing his erection pressing through his boxers.
Jon smiled with satisfaction,the erection was already dripping and had wet his boxers a little, "good...," he said, tone no less unsettling than before, “you're already far enough ”
Damian swallowed, face completely burning. They had been together for a while but had never gone this far—always more cuddles and petting… this was definitely outside their usual.
Jon leaned forward, He placed his left hand near Damian's head, while using his right to rub Damian's erection through his boxers. He did it without hesitation, as if he'd done it a thousand times before, but he hadn't. This was the first time they'd touched each other like that, and Damian, as much as he felt it was out of place, liked it. His breath caught in the back of his throat every time he tried to inhale, and his spine arched as far as it could without him even wanting it to.
Jon’s eyes, still lit with the red glow, remained on Damian’s face as he worked on his trobbing erection, “it'sokay, I know how you like it"
Damian raised an eyebrow. “How do you knoe?”
Jon gave a wicked smile but didn’t answer, leaning in to kiss his lips again while touching him.
“J-Jon,” Damian moaned against his lips, but the Kryptonian didn’t give him time to speak, pressing again, He placed his lips on his again and pushed his tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth.
Damian felt the heat rise in his lower parts Jon’s grip tightening, rubbing with rough gestures.
Damian tried to stay quiet to avoid attention, but whenJon's hand took his cock in its full length and started to jerk it off, he had to cover his mouth.
“If you don't make any noises, I won't be able to tell if you really like it or not.,” Jon informed him, “I want to hear you,” he said, tightening his grip.
“it feel really g-good, so good Jonny, but-” Damian gasped. His hips started to move back, unable to stop the soft moans escaping. “I- I need-” Damian whimpered, blushing deeply, “I'm about to—… Jon you have to stop.” He bit his lower lip before releasing it a second later. “I'll cum, all over you,” he stammered, feeling his face heat up again.
Small droplets of pre-cum leaked from Damian's cock. Jon stopped touching him, leaned over, and licked the drops that had fallen into his hands. Damian watched the scene, a little frustrated by the sudden lack of friction on his cock, but Jon sucking his fingers smeared with his pre-cum almost made him come on the spot. He probably would have actually come if Jon hadn't stopped him by pressing the tip of his orifice with his thumb. Damian twitched at the pressure.
“Wait for me,” Jon said, fingers still in his mouth, “we should do this together.” He slowly moved his hand down from Damian’s mouth to his pants. He started rubbing and grinding his cock, damain couldn't take his eyes off him.
Jon lowered a nearly transparent zipper and pulled out his cock, gave it a few strokes then placed a hand on Damian's head, running it through his hair.
Damian bit the inside of his cheek, Jon’s… was bigger than he expected, and he knew that maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do, but pulling back now made no sense.
Jon ran a hand over Damian’s face, thumb lowering Damian’s bottom lip. “Such a cute thing,” he murmured.
Damian licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, then slowly parted them, letting Jon slide his thumb inside and gently press against his tongue. “May I?” he asked, stopping for a moment and pointing himself close enough to Damian’s face to brush his lips.
Damian nodded, leaning forward. When Jon’s hard dick was so close to his face it almost touched hid lips, Damian dragged his tongue along the underside, from base to tip.
Jon’s hands clenched in Damian’s black hair; he had never felt anything better. The wet sensation of Damian’s soft tongue teasing him made sparks shoot through his body. He let out a low moan, legs tightening around Damian’s hips in fear he might pull away.
Damian smiled involuntarily at the sound Jon made and repeated the motion, starting at the base and moving up slowly, this time covering the tip fully with his mouth, licking it slowly.
Jon's fingers slid through Damian's hair and then regained a firm grip on the strands. "Fuck, Dami," he groaned deeply, hips tensing a little, seeking the depth of Damian’s mouth. He pressed his brown head against his cock, but Damian resisted a little and shook his head a little before pulling back slightly, “I don’t know if I can do this, Jon,” Damian said, warm breath pressing against the tip of Jon’s saliva-wet member.
“I know you can,” Jon whispered, “just a little bit, can't you do it for me?.”
Damian nodded, he was still a littel esitant but he placed his lips on the tip and slowly let it slide inside his mouth, making the alien’s legs shake.
Jon’s eyes widened, locking on Damian, sliding his softer hand through the short hair as he pushed forward gently, testing Damian’s gag reflex.
Damiana opened for him willingly, relaxing her throat and tilting his head back for a better angle and to allow Jon to reach the back of his throat.
Jon held the back of Damian’s head before setting a rhythm. “You’re doing so well,” he started saying, getting rougher with every move. His length slid further down Damian’s throat, head tilting as moans slipped from his lips.
Damian twisted his tongue against the underside of Jon’s cock, unable to do much else since Jon had full control of his head and mouth.
Jon pulled out as soon as he felt wet enough to fucking Damian, giving one last stroke to spread saliva and pre over his length. He looked at the pettirosso, face red, saliva running down his chin. He leaned in to kiss his forehead, then lifted Damian’s legs onto his shoulders.
In that moment, Damian realized he was giving up control—that he would be the bottom in this relationship, and that was even stranger to his brain because he had never imagined that he would find himself in that position, having to take the entire length without even a shred of preparation. A flicker of fear sparked in his chest because he’d never let anyone touch him like this before, and Jon was bigger than he’d expected, much bigger. He knew the first time hurt for everyone, but with Jon’s strength… it could hurt even more.
Fuck it, he had to start hoping that his saliva would be enough to make things easier down there.
“You don’t have to be scared,” Jon murmured, lowering two fingers to brush along Damian’s jawline. “Not with me.” He tilted Damian’s gaze back up to his.
The red stone glowed faintly against his chest.
Damian swallowed. He didn’t recognize that red stone, but he was sure it had some kind of influence over his Jon. He knew he should stop things now, but saying no to Jon had always been difficult for Damian. “I’m not scared.” he said.
It was only half true. As turned on as he was, there was still the awareness that Jon wasn’t entirely lucid—and that he had just killed a man… a man who had tried to kill him.
Jon lifted his head slightly, blue eyes too intense in the dim clearing. “Yeah, you are. You’ve never let go like this before.” He slowly stroked down Damian’s legs, then with a sharp motion pushed him closer to his hips. Damian slid easily over the cape and felt their erections brush together.
“Let me be the one to protect you,” Jon whispered, grinding slowly against him "i wanna make you feel good dami, Please let me make you feel good".
A shiver ran down Damian’s spine. Jon’s touch was pushing him right to the edge. “I don’t need you to protect me,” he shot back, but his voice wasn’t steady anymore—it trembled, a breathy, a needy whine trying to swallow the moans clawing up his throat.
Jon smiled softly. “Everyone needs to be protected,” he said quietly. “Even you. Especially you.” The contact grew tighter. More possessive. Jon pressed himself against Damian’s entrance and began to push inside.
Damian cried out in pain, his cock was so big and hard against his hole that he was already shivering with pain. “Please—” the robin’s voice shook as his body trembled against Jon’s.
Jon smiled, dragging the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscle. He didn’t slide in easily with just precum and spit as lube, but he pushed inside with a low groan. “Fuck,” Jon hissed as he thrust deeper, feeling Damian’s inner walls tighten around him as he bottomed out, every inch buried inside. He didn’t pay much attention to Damian’s whimper sounds or the way he twisted, clutching the cape between his fingers. The stone’s influence made him too needy, too desperate to notice how is lover was feeling. In his mind there was only the desire to dominate, to have every part of his beloved's body and to give himself pleasure by exploiting everything he could take from the body beneath him.
Damian arched his back, eyes squeezing shut. Jon’s body stretched him open with all that thickness, pushing into him like he was trying claiming space. His fingers clenched hard enough to hurt. He cried out through gritted teeth, back arching higher, breath catching in his throat as he tried to adjust to Jon’s size. Difficult was an understatement. Jon was taller than him, bigger in every way—and his cock was no exception. When Jon reached his deepest point, Damian could’ve sworn he felt something tear inside him. It burned for a moment… then blurred into something faintly, confusingly good.
“Oh—Dami—oh, oh—” Jon murmured, lowering himself over Damian’s body. He kissed his neck, sucked hard at his skin, bit down to mark him whit littel hickeys. It had been hard getting inside him, but now he was so tight and warm it was worth it. Damian felt incredible wrapped around his cock—better than Jon thought possible, , The pleasure he felt in feeling his tightness around his member stirred a desire within him that he had never thought he had. Possessing him had become more than a fantasy but a real necessity.
He started moving, planting his hands on Damian’s hips and guiding him to match each thrust, fucking him at a steady rhythm.
Damian clenched his jaw, brows furrowing, lips curling inward to muffle the sounds of pain threatening to spill out. He knew he could say something—could tell Jon to get off him—but he didn’t. Instead, he tried reaching up to yank off the necklace. But every time his fingers brushed the glowing gem, Jon grew rougher—biting his neck, grinding him down against his hips, forcing him to take every inch with more hardness and roughness each time.
“You like it,” Jon whispered. “You like me on top. Like me holding you down.” His fingers tightened on Damian’s hips, bruising. “You like knowing I could destroy anyone who looks at you the wrong way.” The red stone pulsed "fuck you like it so much, don't you?".
“Jon,” Damian said, more strained now. “You’re losing control.”
“I’m not losing it,” Jon shot back. “I’m taking it.”
Damian moaned, letting go of the cape and wrapping his arms around Jon’s back, nails digging into the suit as he kept getting fucked whitout mercy.
“So tight,” Jon groaned. “So good. Dami, you feel so good around me.” He sank his teeth into Damian’s neck again, harder this time, enough to taste the warm blood on his lips. “You taste so good…” he whispered against amber skin.
Damian moaned again. The pain was starting to twist into pleasure, and the sounds spilling from him made his cheeks burn—they were high and breathless, nothing like he ever thought he’d let out. He lifted his hips, chasing friction.
Jon sped up, groaning louder. He chased Damian’s lips again and when he found them, he shoved his tongue into Damian’s mouth without any softness.
“Shit, I’m gonna— I’m gonna—” Damian gasped, breaking the kiss, trembling.
“Don’t hold back. I want to hear how much you want me,” Jon whispered.
And Damian did—moaning and whining louder now, voice shaking, panting hard.
Jon quickened his thrusts, knowing the robin was close. He slid in and out faster, harder, each snap of his hips bordering on too much—he was almost scared he’d hurt him, but he couldn’t stop.
“That’s it,” Jon whispered. “You can come.”
Damian wasn’t sure why he was waiting for Jon’s permission—he hadn’t even realized he was—but especially not why Jon was giving it. He was certain he didn’t need it, he would’ve come anyway. But in his defense, he was too overwhelmed to really process the words being said to him, so he accepted the permission granted.
“Look at me when you do,” Jon told him.