Work Text:
Sex tends to feel clinical, unfortunately.
It lacks excitement and passion. I do what I’m expected to, go through the motions, and hope for once I can get an orgasm out of the experience. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.
I get bored easily, and that is a crime when you’re living in Gotham. It’s a big city and there’s plenty of things to do. So when Jason is away with Rose, I mindlessly swipe through a selection of men on dating apps. I like the validation it gives me, having men desperate for the little bit of attention I’m willing to give them.
When I’m especially reckless, I like to go on spontaneous dates with them. Ending up in bed with them is when I’m feeling self-destructive. The self-loathing comes when all I do is think of Jason during the act.
In the end, I just feel empty.
I seek out a pack of cigarettes at my local bodega, something that can numb me.
I’m on my second cigarette as I turn around the corner to my street. I have one earbud in with “Real Men” by Mitski playing at a low enough volume for me to hear the night traffic. No one has their porch lights on, and I navigate with the help of the lights coming from the cars driving by. I keep my head down, my eyes watching my feet as I take the stairs to my door.
“Hey,” Jason’s voice comes out from the darkness.
I’m sucked in my own world that being pulled out of it so suddenly is like being thrown into icy cold water.
Quickly lifting my head, I pull the earpiece out as Jason steps out of the dark corner and walks toward me.
I narrow my eyes. “Can I help you?”
He chuckles. “Ok, so we’re going straight to acting like a bitch?”
It’s insulting how funny he thinks my feelings are. I have to take a second to breathe before responding.
“What did you tell Rose you’re doing?”
Jason’s mouth shuts close, and I can see him gnawing on the inside of his cheek.
“Running an errand for Bruce.”
I can’t help but laugh, a real big belly-aching laugh. It bursts out of me, and with the trickle of tears pooling at the edges of my eyes, I can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying. Probably both.
“So why did Bruce send you here?”
He just stares at me, his face solemn and sad. His shoulders hung low, as though he had just unloaded a huge weight that took so much out of him, but didn’t give him any relief.
Here Jason was, completely unguarded and desperate, seeking comfort somewhere he knew he would receive it.
Jason comes closer, and any resistance I had just melts away. It’s like my body has a kind of its own, or like my brain just doesn’t work when he’s around. His hands are warm as they settle on my waist, and my body is too busy shivering from thirty-degree weather to protest.
Kissing Jason has always been a bad habit of mine, and it’s one I easily fall back into.
He’s not gentle like all the other men. His fingers dig into my hips, he pulls me in hard and leaves bruises. He knows what I like and how I like it.
We struggled getting inside my apartment, but the rest is easy.