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Jim knows why and how his configuration with Bruce started.
Bruce sidles up to him on the couch one day when he is staying over at Bruce’s penthouse. “Move over,” Bruce whispers. “And turn the volume up, would you?”
Jim startles, one hand reached under the waistline of his pants and palming his cock while a shitty porno plays on his phone on the other hand. He thought Bruce was asleep, for god’s sake, but he supposes it would be hard to get away with anything when he is a guest in Bruce’s domain. He makes room for Bruce and stays silent as Bruce frees his own cock. The video plays and ends.
So, there is a reason for why this insanity begins. Why Jim continues to let it happen though, he has no idea.
A week later with Bruce by his side again, Jim presses play on a second video, and then a third. He chooses the videos, and other times, Bruce points out ones that catch his eye. It was a video with a male and a female the first time, but now all they do is watch videos with men. Two men, sometimes three.
He is a lonely, old man, Jim tells himself. He welcomes the company, he convinces himself. Who wouldn’t enjoy the sight of Bruce Wayne with his head tilted back and eyes closed in pleasure?
The videos Bruce chooses start to feature more men with silver hair. Sometimes, one man will hold the other’s hands down and fuck him, but it is never rough, always slow and deliberate. It doesn’t escape Jim’s notice how Bruce’s breath hitches whenever the older man calls the younger ‘son’ or a ‘good boy’ in the videos. Or, how Bruce tightens his grip on his cock and squeezes his eyes shut whenever someone gets praised for a job well done, ‘swallowing every last drop’ or ‘taking every inch of cock so beautifully’ and such.
Jesus, the kinds of videos that Bruce selects when he gets the choice. More than once, Jim imagines Bruce holding him down with that iron grip of his, whispering filthy things in his ear. Bruce wouldn’t hurt him, Jim knows that. But imagining the types of marks that Bruce might leave on his skin where no one else can see, like staking a claim on him, Jim has never come so hard in his life.
Once, Bruce hoarsely chokes out Jim’s name in the middle of an upstroke on his cock and stills. The sound is so quiet that had Jim’s hearing not been trained on Bruce, he would have missed it in the midst of the sounds of the video. These days, it seems like all of Jim’s senses are trained on Bruce - sight, sound, smell - like the smell of Bruce’s sweat and cologne mixing when they are half an hour into their sessions.
To hell with the lies to himself, Jim thinks. With Bruce, he certainly isn’t lonely anymore, and hasn’t felt lonely for months. Bruce doesn’t make him feel old either, but they fit each other like two pieces of a puzzle. Perhaps the only thing left to do is put the pieces together.
“Bruce,” Jim moans when he comes into the heat of his fist, soft, but sure enough for Bruce to hear.