Work Text:
“God yes baby. You feel so good.”
Bruce pressed his forehead against Harvey’s, took in the feeling of the split textures beneath him. The smooth, soft skin contrasting with the harsh, tough scars. The seam laid straight down the center of his own face, splitting him in sensation alone, where they met. His hips were moving slowly, his whole body pressed up against Harvey and grinding down on his cock between them with every thrust. Even though Bruce had him pinned to the mattress, about every other stroke or so Harvey pushed his hips up as much as he could, like even an inch of distance separating them was too much to bear.
When he and Harvey made love, it was like that. Like the air in the room was an unwelcome barrier. An obstacle in their path that they would both give anything to remove. They’d sooner stop breathing, forego the barrier entirely, than be asked to pull apart for even a second. They’d take the skin-to-skin contact first before taking another breath.
“Bruce…” Harvey sighed, whimpered, tilting his head back on the pillow to wordlessly beg for his lips. As soon as he did, Bruce was on them. He would give Harvey anything he asked for and more without hesitation, without pause. He swallowed the next breathy sigh that came from his parted lips and then the moan that followed. He pulled them down like they were his own last breath and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Harvey would give to him and Bruce would give right back.
Bruce kept rocking his hips the whole time, bringing them closer and closer together even when his movements pulled him away. When he was inside Harvey, he didn’t exist anywhere but right there, right here, right now. He didn’t need to think because their bodies knew each other well enough that they didn’t need to. Their bodies did all the thinking for them.
Their kiss settled into the easy rhythm they’d discovered since their relationship resumed after their reconnection long ago.
It was different because they were different. Different in the way Harvey wanted him to focus his attention solely on the right side of their mouth at first, pressing his full lips against the plush side of theirs, avoiding their sharp edges and jagged lines, giving him a taste of the way things were. Them, still melting into each other with sighs that only belonged to the other. Bruce being the one to let his lips hover, linger, touch only what he could touch from their shared past. It was like Harvey wanted the reminder that he was loved and desired as the person he once was—because even though Harvey was still here, still as loving and kind and gentle as Bruce remembered, he was different now the same way Bruce was different now.
But it was the same because they were the same. Because they were still them. Would always be them. Bruce and Harvey.
No matter what changed, kissing Harvey would always bring him back to the late nights in their dorm room trying to fit in a twin bed and keeping their words to hushed confessions they would pretend they hadn’t heard in the morning. To the college parties they tried to convince themselves they attended for any other reason but to get drunk enough that the walls between them dropped and there was no space between them again. To the kisses stolen in every random alcove they could find in the courthouse and at Wayne Enterprises and in their shared apartment on the lazy Sunday mornings Bruce could convince Harvey to stay in bed.
Then, when the tips of their tongues touched and the rest gave way to allow them to slide against each other, Harvey wanted Bruce to lean all in. To show him just how much he craved the person he was today. How he didn’t shy away from any part of him, never had, never would. Letting his tongue map out the expanse of his mouth, every inch another piece of him to discover over and over. Lapping at the warm, pillowy inside of his cheek and the harsh, sinewy muscle where there was none. Their teeth clacking together where those now exposed tugged at Bruce’s lips. Getting tangled together where they connected like always, like now, until they craved oxygen enough to begin the arduous process of detangling even though it was never as much as they craved each other.
Bruce pulled back when the lightheadedness threatened to interrupt his movements and his short breaths ghosted across Harvey’s face as he murmured, “So good for me. You’re so, so perfect, Harvey. I’m so lucky I get to love you. I’m so lucky I get to be with you.” Harvey arched into him at the praise and love in his voice, made the most contented sound Bruce had ever heard that had his heart and cock jump in tandem. When Harvey spasmed around him in response, Bruce breathed, “God, I’m so lucky I get to be inside you. I swear you were made just for me.”
His next determined movement hit the angle that made Harvey cry out and tighten his legs around Bruce’s waist, clench around Bruce and draw him in deeper than they already were. “Oh just like that, baby. Just like that, just like that,” Bruce groaned, tonguing at his own lip and driving his next thrust into the same spot. And the next, and next, feeling the pressure and give inside him. Harvey gave and gave, let Bruce take and take up more space within him. “Yes, Harvey. Give me all of you. Don’t hold back anything, love. I want everything.”
Every thrust had Harvey moaning in that beautifully desperate way he always did when he let down those walls. Every sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper and a keen for more that Bruce would happily provide. “You take me so well,” he moaned in reply to the symphony, picking up his pace. “I want you to come undone for me, love,” he said as Harvey began shaking under him, his legs struggling to keep their hold even as he arched his back and asked for it deeper, deeper, more, please more. “You’re so pretty when you come undone. So pretty and so perfect.”
The only word spilling from Harvey—the only word that ever spilled from Harvey when they made love—was his name. His name around shallow gasps of pleasure, his name only broken up moans that sounded like Bruce was giving him life with every in and every out. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” Over and over like a prayer.
“That’s right Harvey, say my name. I want my name on your lips when you cum for me.” Bruce shifted his position, kept rocking into him with fast-paced thrusts that were soft and hard, gentle and rough, just like the duality of Harvey’s visage. “You’re so pretty when you cum for me. God I love watching you cum.”
Bruce sat up and back on his knees causing Harvey to whimper at the loss even though Bruce’s cock stayed buried within him, even though Bruce couldn’t remove himself entirely if he tried. They’d been apart too long in this lifetime already, it hardly seemed fair to spend any more time apart.
So Bruce stayed inside him and used both hands to pull Harvey onto his thighs, his broad shoulders remaining flat on the bed. “Arch for me just like that, okay?” He waited for the nod of assent, waited for Harvey to tell him just how ready he was in just how fast he conveyed his understanding. Then one of Bruce’s hands settled on Harvey’s hip and the other found its way to Harvey’s right cheek where he let his thumb lightly trace the high cheekbone and brow that earned him the title Apollo.
At this point, Bruce could find that bundle of nerves of his in his sleep. He brushed against it, pressed into it, let the hand on Harvey’s hip make its way to his abdomen and press down so he could trap it between his fingertips and cock. The feeling of his cock moving inside Harvey from the outside made him groan and it made Harvey gasp and give him every last sound he had to offer.
“Oh Bruce,” Harvey practically sobbed when the hand reached his cock with a feather-light touch before Bruce rolled his hand down the length firmly and matched his strokes to the pace. Harvey shut his eyes tight like he wanted to memorize every sensation and file it away for safekeeping. Not that they’d ever be apart long enough to need the memory of it. “God, I love you so much.” Harvey only spoke when he was ready, close enough to the finish line to taste it. “I–I want to cum for you…” he trailed off, breaking into half-coherent pleas. Unraveling, undone.
“You’re going to cum for me, just for me. Come on now, baby. I love you.” The pad of Bruce’s thumb firmly brushed the sensitive underside of his head, dragged up to the tip and back down with the wetness he collected. He was about to start stroking him in earnest, aiming for his goal, getting him right to the brink of no return. “I love you so so much, Harvey, it’s unreal.”
Then—one second he was leaning forward to kiss Harvey until he couldn’t breathe, until he painted the space between them and was shuddering around Bruce and pulling him over the edge with him. The next…
He found himself thrown onto his back in the space Harvey was lying just moments before. His cock ached at being wrenched away from that tight heat when he was so, so close to following Harvey into their bliss. But before he could even mentally process the sudden shift, the hand that had been white knuckling the sheets mere seconds ago shot forward to wrap around his throat. Jagged edges pressed against his ear as that beautiful, gravelly voice said, “Sorry to cut in, doll. Hard to resist those magic fingers of yours.”
Bruce almost always forgot that their frenulum was a trigger point for them both. But even if he remembered it in the heat of the moment, he’d be hard pressed to avoid it because they both just liked it so damn much and god, the noises it inspired… He knew from experience he could get there on those noises alone.
Harv gave a low chuckle that sent a shiver down his spine, made his hips jerk of their own accord. “Hope you don’t mind if I return the favor,” he said as he pulled back and flashed a wicked grin.
Bruce let out as much of a groan as his restricted vocal cords would allow in anticipation of Harv’s next move—with a good idea of what was to come. The fingers tightened around his throat, drawing out the ghost of a gasp, and the other hand grabbed Bruce’s cock in a way that was the furthest thing from soft and feather-light and made his eyes roll back in his head so far he wondered how he didn’t see his skull.
“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce,” Harv tsked, his words biting like the sting of a bandaid being ripped off just before the space was soothed with a kiss. “Such a softie. Someone’s gotta teach you to toughen up, don’t you think?”
At the first rough tug, seconds before his brain was ready to beg for oxygen, Harv released his throat and the same hand returned with a strong, clapping force as it made contact with his cheek. Not full force, not enough to hear the ringing Harv liked to leave him with as if it was a calling card, but hard enough that he gasped shakily, his heart stuttered, he bit down on his bottom lip and drew blood. It made him mewl and thrust into the fist now roughly dragging up and down from base to tip with a grip even tighter than its previous home.
“Atta boy,” Harv praised, but it had a mocking edge to it that only added to the appeal. “You keep taking it like that and I might even let you cum at the end of this.” With a second firm pat on his now-red cheek, Harv shoved three scarred fingers into his mouth. “Suck.” Bruce obeyed immediately, moaning as he hollowed his cheeks around the digits and moved his head on and off them like he was giving the most enthusiastic head of his life because Harv always demanded the best from him.
The first time Bruce and Harv fucked—because he and Harv fucked, and Bruce didn’t doubt he’d take a punch if he ever dared say made love— he remembered the way Harv led with his left. A reminder, as if Bruce needed the reminder, that he was not Harvey.
A kiss that started with sharp teeth biting their way in, forcing his lips apart. Not Harvey. A hand that wrapped both of their cocks together in a chokehold and pressed into him so tight that Bruce’s cock had imprints in the pattern of his scars afterwards. Not Harvey. A pair of fingers that found their way to his entrance and provided a scratch alongside the burn as they slipped in. Not Harvey.
Bruce didn’t need the reminder but god, he loved the reminder. A reminder that what they had, while more recent than what he had with Harvey, had settled into just as familiar a rhythm once they found their footing.
He moaned again, curling his tongue around and in between and along the pads and across each knuckle. He moaned again and again until Harv smiled a satisfied smile that was just as twisted as the previous one. Then his fingers hooked and retreated, pulling at his cheek as they did, taking and taking more than Bruce had to give.
“Look at that,” Harv said as he spread his fingers apart and they remained connected by strings of spit. “You’re a well-trained little thing, aren’t you?” Bruce could only nod dumbly in response, open his legs wider on either side of Harv’s thick thighs and cant his hips.
Another chuckle as Harv tracked the movement, watched the way Bruce offered himself up on a silver platter. “Well-trained and so, so eager. Two of my favorite adjectives for you, doll.” The hand on his cock stilled but remained gripping him just as tight. “I think you can spread yourself wider for me, though. Unless you don’t want it as much as I thought you might.” The grip slowly loosened and Bruce heard his own whine in protest, felt the immediate shake of his head.
“Mm. That’s what I thought.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, didn’t even need to nod his assent when his body did the talking for him. He spread his legs further still and as soon as Harv was happy with him, his fingers disappeared from sight and in a split second were at his entrance. Bruce had bottomed before but no one topped quite like Harv did. It was like fucking was a sport to him and there was a winner and a loser at the end of it. Like fucking Bruce was the same as exchanging fists with Batman and only one of them was walking away from the scene of the crime. Sneaky and underhanded, brazen and unapologetic, certain and strong.
He didn’t offer any warning or indication, just pushed two fingers in at once. Bruce cried out and clenched around his fingers, around that burn, that scratch that was Harv, Harv, Harv. There was no pause for allowance or acceptance, just an immediate and confident pace being set that Bruce could only take. “Go as tight as you like, doll,” Harv said in that low, dark tone of his. “You know I’m just gonna make you keep taking it until you’re right where I want you.”
Bruce shuddered at the words he knew to be true and his mouth dropped open as those fingers twisted inside him, hooked on his inner walls, a third entered the other two, and… and—
Oh god, brushed against that spot inside him that Harv knew exactly where to find. He moaned openly knowing Harv liked to claim his noises, pull them from the depths of him as they were how he and Harv said I love you, an equal exchange where they could meet in the middle. And Bruce was happy to provide him that, happy to give. “Oh god…” Bruce whimpered when Harv didn’t ease from that spot, just continued to hit it over and over and over at a pace so punishing he wondered if it was possible for his prostate to bruise.
“I don’t see any god here right now. Do you, Brucie?”
You, he wanted to say. Maybe not Apollo but a god in his own right all the same. But he didn’t say it because he couldn’t say it because Harv was preventing him from utilizing any muscles other than the walls steadily giving way to him in their own silent plea.
Prep with Harv was never much prep but it was just as symbolic as Harv falling into his life with no warning, no pause, not even two seconds to process or catch his breath, and saying, Take me or leave me, doll. Your choice.
And Bruce always chose to take, take, take.
The fingers were gone only long enough to hint at being missed before they were replaced with the head of his cock. Bruce gazed at the ceiling and rotated through every meditative tactic he knew was most appropriate for taking a knife to the gut. He heard Harv spit, on his hand or on his cock he wasn’t sure, but god it wasn’t going to be enough and god it was going to hurt and that’s the thing—
With Harv, it hurt.
But he wasn’t shy about it. He didn’t pretend otherwise. He was upfront about the sharp edges and jagged lines because he knew, he knew, he would make it just as good as it hurt. He knew he could make you want it, beg for it even without begging, if you only waited, decided you were in it with him.
“Ready or not,” Harv murmured under his breath like a lullaby you’d whisper to the monster under your bed. Then he pushed forward and eased his way in just slow enough that he wasn’t actually tearing his way through, but he didn’t stop at the resistance or pause or retreat, didn’t do anything but push in until he reached the hilt.
Bruce gasped like a dying man, wanted to kick and fight against the intrusion, but he projected every ounce of calm available within him to his core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he let fall from his lips even as he forced every other muscle to relax. He didn’t swear when he was with Harvey but he wasn’t with Harvey. Well—Harvey was most likely enjoying the show, watching him come undone at the seams for a change, but he wasn’t on the receiving end of Bruce’s expletives and that was the important distinction.
“That’s the idea,” Harv groaned, somehow managing to sound sarcastic despite the heavy drags of air he was taking in. “Fuck your pussy is so tight for me. So good. Fits like a glove.” All Bruce could do was moan as his muscles spasmed in protest, arch in search of the angle he knew would give him the pleasure he chased in moments when the pain was blinding, when the distance closed in on him too fast. Then both of Harv’s hands found his hips and he started moving to help him find it.
“Don’t worry, doll, I got you. You don’t need to do any of the thinking now—just keep lying there looking pretty and drooling on my cock. I’ll get us there in no time. All you need to do is enjoy the ride.”
Maybe Bruce would say something if he could think but he couldn’t think. Not when he was stretched impossibly wide on Harv’s girth like this, not when his cock pushed right up against his prostate at the first long thrust. The movement pulled an entirely involuntary sound from his chest but that’s exactly how Harv liked him. Base and raw, the concept of his personhood left far behind in favor of where they found each other, like when they first met in the gutters and alleyways of Gotham. Because as much as Harv wanted him well-trained, he wanted him just as wild and untamed as he was, too.
Harv was a mess of contradictions and oh, he was a beautiful mess.
Every grunt and groan of Harv’s was met with Bruce’s whines and whimpers, their sounds mirroring that beautiful duality perfectly. Every thrust was pulling the sounds out of Bruce faster than they could fill up his mouth but they just kept replenishing as soon as they left like it was all he had to give. He… he was so, so close. So close, like he’d never left.
“I’m not going to touch your cock, Brucie,” Harv panted as if he could read his mind, could read his body just as easily because it spoke to him too. “You’ve already got everything you need. You never need anything but us. Just us. Isn’t that right?”
Us.
God yes.
Fuck yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
“Fuck, Harv. God… Harvey. Yes. Yes, just you two. All I need, yes.”
Harv huffed his approval and his large hands found Bruce’s shoulders, held him down, down, down and pulled him up, up, up. “Then put your money where your fucking mouth is and cum for us,” he growled.
As with everything Harv told him to do, he didn’t need to be told twice.
It was like a flash grenade went off with the way his vision whited out completely. Taking all his senses away from him except the sensation of their cock pressing into him, right up against that spot that had him curling his toes and arching his back. His cock was untouched but it was twitching as if it was still in Harv’s fist or inside Harvey and he was cumming, cumming, cumming, like he was never going to stop, oh god.
Harv was lost to words entirely when he reached the edge and with Bruce clamping down on him, begging for it, he pulled both Harv and Harvey right into the abyss with him and then they were cumming inside him and god, it felt so good. Painting the space within him rather than between them and it was even better that way, even closer. Bruce wished he could always be filled by them, that he could keep them filled too, meet at the seams that way and never part.
Bruce never thought he’d get to experience the same mind-blowing connection twice and he didn’t because they were different but they were also the same because when he pulled back to gaze bleary-eyed and lovestruck at their face, it wasn’t just Harvey post-accident he was seeing and it wasn’t Harv on Harvey’s pre-accident face, either. It was something, someone, wholly different and even better because of it.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed once they were all finally spent, had given all they had to give, taken all they could possibly take, and only had what was left. And what was left, when they were no longer pushing and pulling, giving and taking, was just—
Harv.
Bruce.
Harvey.
Them.
And it was so perfect.
And it was so good.