Steady On Forward

Chapter 4

It was unfair that he couldn't just let it go. It wasn't like Dick was the most sex-crazed person ⁠— he'd easily gone a month or two before without needing to get off. It was just...Jason.

He banged his head gently on the table. He'd try watching porn, but⁠— oh wait, he'd already been trying that. For the past three goddamn days. With no results.

Shit, he even had live porn if he wanted. He'd tried watching Jason get himself off, and he'd liked it, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to touch himself. Even alone afterwards, it hadn't worked.

It would be one thing if he was repulsed by sex, but he wasn't, and that was worse. Because he was into it in his head, but then the reality of it just completely shut everything down, and ⁠— just ⁠— ugh. He was so wound up he thought he was gonna die. Or at the very least, spontaneously combust.

Dick clenched his hands into fists, and slammed them down, just once, onto the table.

God, it wasn't really Jason's fault, but...Dick would not be having this fucking problem right now if they weren't together.

He was just always around, and being understanding, and nice, and a good boyfriend, and really fucking hot and built, and. Ugh. It sucked. And it wasn't like Dick wanted him to stop, it just...it made things difficult.

And, holy hell, the first couple of days after That Night, when he'd had to listen to Jason get himself off... He hadn't been doing it on purpose, Dick knew that, he had been trying to be discreet, doing it quietly in the shower; but the thing about Jason was, even when he was trying very, very hard to be quiet, he...wasn't.

And so Dick had asked to watch him, thinking maybe that would be the solution to the problem, but no. No, that had made it so much worse.

He hadn't been able to touch himself while it was happening, it felt too vulnerable, but when Jason finished, Dick had gone to the bathroom. And for a minute⁠ — just for a minute — he'd thought he was finally going to get his relief after fucking days of walking around frustrated as hell. And then right before he was about to come, he felt a sort of skip in his stomach, and everything immediately plummeted down to zero.

He had dumped their toothbrushes into the sink, and slammed the cup they had been in so hard onto the ground that shards of glass had gotten in his hair. And then he'd sat down on the edge of the tub and cried until Jason had knocked on the door.

Dick had gotten up, tried to brush off all the bits of glass, wiped away his tears, and pretended everything was fine when he opened the door. It obviously wasn't, as evidenced by his red, puffy eyes, and the flying leap he had to take into the hallway to get over the, you know, shattered glass all over the floor, but Jason hadn't mentioned it. Just offered to clean up the mess and make him some tea.

Yeah...Dick was pretty sure he was just gonna drop dead.

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do at this point? It wasn't like he could exercise it away ⁠— he'd been running around all goddamn night on patrol and that clearly hadn't helped. He'd taken a cold shower, he'd tried jerking off, his cock was practically raw⁠— what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

He allowed himself a few more minutes of wallowing, before getting up and going to bed.

It was only a few minutes before Jason joined him, carefully climbing under the covers without touching.

Dick scooted closer, impatiently.

"Hold me?" he asked quietly, when Jason still made no move to touch him.