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    Summary

    He'd felt so exposed, sitting here like it was a normal day and that he wasn't splayed out on Jason's lap in front of a mirror. There’s a pressure building up, an overwhelm that Dick didn’t really know how or what to do about. He’d never hated the fact that he was so close to getting relief just to have it stopped every time he went to move even the slightest bit.

    “Jay," Dick gasps, "Jay, c'mon-"

    “Stop talking,” Jason replies and it’s cold—some might even say it was cruel in its tone—but Dick knows better. He feels Jason, he knows Jason want to do more because every time Dick moves ever so slightly Jason throbs; it’s really just a battle of who would break first. Would it be Dick, the certified brat, or Jason, the certified brat tamer? Nobody really knew and, when you're dealing with two of the most competitive people this side of New Jersey, it was like waiting for a bomb to drop.

    or: my piece for the Grayson Gets Hooded Bunnywing Special and a scene in my brain from an office inspired AU that I haven't gotten around to writing but wanted this specific scene out of my brain because why the hell not?

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