Welcome to chapter three! So, first off, I'm not sticking it in the tags because it's not a main pairing (as far as I've written, anyway), but this chapter does have some references to JayRoy, and some brief interaction between them of that sort. If that changes, and Roy becomes a more important part, I'll add him in there too. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings this chapter for : brief JayRoy interactions, and graphic sex (unrelated to the JayRoy).

It's nice to wake up with someone else in my bed. There's no slow rise to consciousness for me, no haze to push through, and that almost makes it better.

I open my eyes, completely aware, and find Jason's back pressed to my chest. My head is ducked down against the back of his neck, my right arm is slung over his waist with my palm splayed out across his stomach, and my legs are tangled with his, one thigh pushed right in between his and nearly up against his crotch.

He's still asleep, chest rising in slow, even breaths, and I take the opportunity to just feel him for a second. It's almost like having Apollo in my arms again, except that Apollo was always a blazing source of heat, and Jason actually runs a couple degrees cooler than average. There's the same muscle though; I don't find — or sleep with — many people that are actually taller than me and as built as he is. It'd be a disservice to compare the two of them like that though, so I throw the thought out of my head almost as soon as it appears.

Apollo and Jason are nothing alike, despite that faint physical similarity. I wouldn't want them to be anyway, no one can substitute for another person like that, and especially not for me. Even if I were somehow fooled with physical similarities, my mind would know the difference in behavior, smell, taste, and a hundred other little things. I know people that I get close to too well afterwards to confuse them with anyone else.

I open my eyes, shifting a bit to look down at the little marks I left across his shoulders and neck. It makes me just a bit proud, and I let myself give a small grin as I close my eyes again and enjoy the memories of last night. Which, of course, results in me pressing my pretty swiftly hardening cock up against Jason's low back. He doesn't even stir, so I lower my lips to his neck and press a couple of small kisses to his skin.

Nothing; the kid's dead to the world and that's no surprise. Not after how I satisfied him, and then helped him through his brief breakdown. That kinda night will knock anybody out.

I think about the idea forming in my head for about two seconds before I decide to do it. I carefully shift away from Jason enough that I can roll over and reach for the bottle of lube that got set aside last night on one of my end tables. Then I press back up against Jason's back, and slowly slide my left arm to burrow underneath his waist. It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, but I manage to slick up the fingers of my right hand without making too big a mess and lower them down between his legs.

His heartbeat jumps a bit when I slide one inside of him, but nothing near sudden enough that it would wake him up. I wrap my other hand around his currently limp cock, keeping my touch gentle and basically just holding him in my hand for now.

He's relaxed, still just a touch loose from last night, and I keep the roll of my finger slow and smooth to not wake him up too harshly. He will, eventually, but I'd like it to be a good, slow wake up, not a rush. That means coaxing him open slowly, making sure that the rise to awareness is gradual and hazy. Not something I'm ever going to get to experience, but god if it isn't one of my favorite things to do to a partner. Almost everyone is more relaxed in the morning, and I kind of can't wait to see how Jason is when he eases into pleasure instead of fighting it. Predictions are one thing, the reality is always better.

I close my eyes, tucking my head in against the back of his neck and listening to him as I coax his body open. I can feel how his body heats as his cock swells in my hand, and I carefully add in a second finger when I think he'll accept it. His breathing catches at that, and he shifts, but he doesn't quite wake.

He's lingering closer to the surface now though, his heartbeat a little stronger and his breath coming a little faster. He's making small sounds too, little sighs and rumbles of noise that travel through his chest and into mine. I keep myself from grinding against his back, or biting down into his shoulders, with a whole lot of willpower and not much else.

When I finally slip a third finger in beside the others he shifts, breath catching more noticeably and his back arching just a touch. I can hear how he pulls in a little gasp, feel the change as he slides into consciousness. One of his hands curls into the sheets, head tilting back as he pushes back into my fingers.

"Morning, kid," I murmur against his neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin in front of my mouth.

His arm rises, groping blindly until it finds my head and then my hair, curling into the bits long enough to actually grip. "Don't make me punch you again," he mumbles, still sounding mostly asleep. "You—" He gasps, lets out a little whine of sound that cuts straight down to my cock. "You wake all your one night stands up like this?"

I scrape my teeth over the back of his neck, and he pushes back into it with a small groan. "I try. I was planning on fucking you, you good with that?"

The laugh that comes out of his chest is breathless, sleepy. "Can't say I'll be all there, but go for it."

I firm up my grip on his cock, giving it an actual stroke. He pushes forward into my hand, breath coming out a sighing moan as he flexes the hand in my hair to pull me closer. I let my head follow his pull, pressing open mouthed kisses down his throat and onto his shoulders before I let go of him. That gets me a small whine, and I smirk, trailing my hand up the center of his chest. I pause at a nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and he gasps and arches, head pressing back against my shoulder as his throat bares.

I hum my approval into his neck, my fingers moving easily inside him as I lightly pinch first one nipple, then the other. "You're so responsive," I whisper into his ear, as his chest pushes forward and into my hand. "Take everything I give you like you just want more and it's goddamn incredible, kid." I catch Jason's earlobe between my teeth, tugging for just a moment — he groans — before sliding my hand back down his chest.

I pull my fingers free, wiping them off on the sheets before reaching back for the bottle of lube. Jason pushes back against me, fingers tugging lightly at my hair, and makes another of those soft little whining noises. I get the lube in my hand, tilting my head down so I can get it on my cock without spilling it everywhere else too. Mostly, I manage it, and then toss the lube back over across the sheets so it's out of the way.

Then I wrap my hand around Jason's upper thigh, pulling his leg back up and over mine and almost swearing at the feeling of my cock nudging up against him. I muffle it by sucking at his throat instead, and then sliding my hand down between us so I can wrap my hand around my cock and guide it.

He moans when I push inside of him, the slide much easier than it was last night since he's a little more loosened up this time. He still feels like fucking heaven though, that hasn't changed even a bit.

I slide my hand back to his thigh, holding his leg up as I rock my hips and push deeper inside. "Still feel fucking amazing," I tell him, remembering his previous reactions to praise and not being at all disappointed when he shudders and clenches around me. "Just relax, kid. Let me do the work."

It's not much like when I fucked him last night.

He's still relaxed from sleep, but freely responsive to every touch. I don't want to jar him out of that, so I keep the roll of my hips slow and sensual, pulling us both towards release in a far more gentle way than the rush for it last night. He's definitely enjoying it, considering the sounds he's making and the way he's moving against me. Those sounds get somewhat louder when I wrap my free hand around his cock again, stroking him in time with the deeper, slow thrusts.

I groan into his shoulder, gritting my teeth together for a moment to hold back. "Meant what I said before; you're stunning when you give in, Jason."

He shivers, but his hand tugs harder at my hair. "Maybe I should make you work harder for it," he teases, and I huff out a laugh into his shoulder.

"Maybe I should stop then," I counter, and he pushes hard back against me with a low snarl.

"Don't you dare."

I grin, closing my eyes against his neck and tightening my grip on his thigh to hold him still as I put just a bit more force behind my thrusts. It's not long before he's arching against me, breath coming out in a long groan as he comes over my hand and into the sheets. The clenching of his muscles pushes me that last bit forward too, and I only last another half a minute before following him over the edge. It's not the intensity of last night, but it's still good, and having the kid relaxed and warm in my arms is pretty great.

I press gentle kisses along his shoulders and neck, as his hand eases out of my hair and just strokes idly along the back and side of my neck instead. Eventually I shift to let myself slip out of him — he twitches in discomfort — and raise my head to speak in his ear.

"Hey, we've got criminals to track down, remember? Still want to come along?"

He laughs, and then twists in my arms so he can flip over, facing me. His left arm slides over my waist as he leans in and pulls me into a kiss, and I gladly meet him. It's fairly gentle, but the kid's still got that edge of passion that drives the graze of teeth over my lips and the swipe of tongue. Until he pulls back and then tucks his head down in underneath my chin, nudging his way in like he belongs there. I'm not positive he doesn't.

"Tempting," he murmurs against my collarbone. "You win though, you were right about tiring me out. I'll pass for now."

I smirk, tightening my grip on him just a little bit. "You got it, kid." It's pretty easy to coax him back up into another kiss, before I raise my hand to trace my fingers over his jaw and cheek. "Relax, sleep, whatever you want to do. Make yourself at home; there's a couple robes in the closet if you don't want to actually get dressed. I shouldn't be gone that long."

He hums in something like satisfaction, and then slides his arm back from around my waist. The smirk that curls his mouth, as his blue eyes open, is lazy, warm, and just a bit wicked. "Have fun, dear."

My smirk turns into a grin, and I pull him into one last kiss before I force myself away. "I'll dedicate a couple snapped bones to you, darling," I tease right back, as I roll off the bed and mentally track down each different piece of my suit.

"What a gentleman," Jason says with a laugh, stretching out in the bed. I can hear the crack of his back from here, and the almost silent sigh of satisfaction. "Bring me back a souvenir or something."

I admire his back for a moment — lingering on the line of my sheets low at his hips — and then finally push myself into dressing. "No problem."

I'm only gone for maybe half an hour, and then I hop a door right back into the middle of my living room. Which smells distinctly like what I think is the mix of an omelet, among other things, and I tilt my head and order the door closed again, looking in the direction of my kitchen.

Jason is standing in front of my stove, turning things in at least two separate pans, and my mouth curls in a smile when I see the dark, silk robe he's got tied on. I trudge that direction, and he tilts his head back a bit when I'm maybe halfway towards him.

"You eat normal portions?" he asks bluntly.

"Yeah," I answer, tugging my mask off with my free hand and lifting the other to set his souvenir—

"Not on the table," comes the sharp order, and I raise my gaze to the center of Jason's back. "I'm at least going to eat there, even if you aren't. Coffee?"

"Just water." I drop his souvenir off to the side instead, letting it clank to the floor. "Lemme rinse off; I'll be right back."

He doesn't stop me from detouring off to my room, where I get in the shower and only then start to strip down. Short mission but a bloody one, and I have learned my lesson about dropping my bloody suit anywhere but in my shower or bathtub. It never ends well, and I think the cleaning service I door in when I do that is getting a little sick of me.

I make sure I'm all clean before dropping the pieces of my suit into the bathtub to let them dry, make sure I'm suitably dry, and then head out for my closet. I grab one of my other robes — silk's one of the few fabrics that doesn't grate on my skin at least a little — and throw it on before I head back out to the kitchen. Jason's portioning things out onto plates, and I don't waste any time coming right up behind and sliding my hands around his waist. He's freshly showered too; his hair's still damp and I can smell my soap on his skin.

"Got you a souvenir," I murmur in his ear, and his head turns.

"Yeah?" I nod towards where I dropped it, and I get to watch his eyes light up. "What is that?"

I grin. "That's a hefty piece of some very advanced alien tech; I hear that redhead teammate of yours is a bit of a genius with machines. I mean, it's just a gun right now, but I bet he could reverse engineer it."

I can almost see how he's itching to get his hands on it, but he only grins and leans back into me, turning and catching my mouth in a kiss. "Thanks," he whispers, and then nudges me with his shoulder. "There's food; omelets and bacon. Would have done something fancier but you're a little lacking on ingredients."

Another little piece of the puzzle that is Jason slots into place, and I look over his shoulder as I confirm, "You cook?"

He hums in confirmation, and then adds, "Since I was a kid. Am I still surprising you?"

"Only in the best of ways," I assure him, and only then let go. "My plate?" He hands me one, and I steal another kiss before I head for the kitchen table. He follows a moment later, balancing a plate, a mug — coffee, I can smell it — and a glass of water. I take the water from him, leaving him free to set those down at his own place and then briefly backtrack for utensils.

When he hands me my fork I catch his wrist, pulling it forward so I can press a kiss to his knuckles. The little flicker of a smile I get is beautiful all on its own, so I do it again before I let go. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, but there's a softness to his gaze that makes it all for show.

"So who were you tracking down?" Jason asks, as he sits down. "Looked like quite a fight."

"Nah," I say with a small grin. "Just a bunch of weapons traffickers with things a little too advanced for them. One of them was stupid enough to try and use a katana on me, so I took it. Bloody, but not really a fight."

"Sounds like I would have been bored even if I went," he says with a smirk, as I take my first bite of the omelet. Which might be one of the better things I've eaten this month, fancy restaurants included.

"Well, I'm definitely not going to complain that you stayed behind and cooked breakfast," I tease, "but I'm still looking forward to getting to see how dangerous you can be. This is great, by the way."

Another smile, this one lingering a little longer. "I learned from a master. His pancakes are awful but everything else he made was absolutely incredible. Can you not cook?"

"I can I suppose, just never tried anything more complicated than the basics. Usually I've got other things to do, and eating's kind of an afterthought."

"Heathen," he jabs, but he's grinning. "Swear the rest of you would live off packaged dinners and snack foods if someone didn't stop you. What do you all find so exhausting about making your own food?"

I push a piece of bacon in my mouth, since it's clear that he's not actually looking for an answer, and study him for a couple moments. "You know," I comment, once I've swallowed, "you're very domestic." One of his eyebrows rises. "It's a compliment. You cook, and I noticed you cleaned up too. Changed the sheets, right? I'm not sure my bed's ever been that nicely made."

He shrugs, gaze falling to the last bits of his food. "It's habit," is his easy answer, and everything I get off of him in that moment says that there's a little more to it, but I probably shouldn't push. It's almost surprising when he raises his head again and expands, "My life's been… Chaos, basically. I'm more comfortable when the things around me are where they should be, and I know where everything is." Then his mouth curls in a little smirk. "And I just happen to like to cook; no secret there."

I meet his smirk. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Clean all you want; place could probably use it, honestly."

"Just a little."

He finishes off his food, leaning back in his chair and reaching for the mug of coffee to curl both hands around it. I let him study me as I finish eating, vaguely wondering what he's looking for but not really invested enough to actually ask. For the most part, Jason seems to speak his mind. Until he feels like sharing whatever he's thinking about, I'll let him watch me as much as he wants to. There's no danger in it, and sometimes people like to be left to puzzle their own thoughts out. I don't have enough information on Jason's thought processes to honestly say he'd prefer if I asked, so I won't.

Once I finish he gets up, wordlessly collecting the empty dishes and ferrying them to the sink. After a moment I follow, pressing myself up against his back and sliding my arms around his waist. He leans back a little bit, and I press my mouth to the side of his neck, over one of the dozen little marks I left there last night. That gets me a faint shiver, and I smirk against his skin but resist lowering my hand to slip under the robe.

"So," Jason breaks the silence with, "we should probably talk."

"Do you want me to let go?" I ask, as he sets the last dish aside to dry. "Or to sit down?"

He turns in my arms, putting his back to the counter and looping his arms around my shoulders. "No; stay here." He holds my gaze for a couple seconds before speaking again. "This… This doesn't feel no-strings-attached. I mean, if that's just me I get it, no offense taken. Hell, maybe I'm rebounding and—"

I kiss him, raising a hand so I can tunnel it through his hair and pull him in against me. He makes a surprised noise, but then his hands are cupping the back of my neck and skull and pulling me in just as hard. I press him back against the counter a little harder, pushing my tongue in between his teeth until he gives a soft, muffled moan and relaxes. Then I pull back, letting the kiss linger for just a moment before opening my eyes to find and meet his gaze.

"It's not just you," I tell him, with a smirk. "I like you, kid, and not just because you give fucking amazing blowjobs."

He snorts, gives a little shrug. "Maybe you're rebounding too."

"So what?" I ask. "We'd both be pretty fucking crazy to commit to anything after one night, so why make it complicated?" I kiss him again, softer, slower. "My door's open, kid, whether you want to fight, or fuck, or just sleep in my bed and make breakfast. Or all of the above; that could be a fun night."

He relaxes a little more, fingers trailing over my scalp as he smirks. "So no expectations? I can be what, your booty call?"

I give a burst of laughter, my mouth curling into a grin. "Kid, I'm pretty sure I just signed up to be yours."

His eyes shut as he laughs, head bowing forward to rest his forehead against mine. "You're unbelievable," he whispers. "Alright, deal. But, maybe next time you've got some job to do, give me a call? I can, you know, stand around and look pretty or something."

"What an honor," I tease, and Jason tugs lightly at my hair as he gives a small growl. I growl back, just to hear that little gasp of breath, and then open my eyes and pull back a touch. "Sounds like a plan. That does mean I'll need your number though."

Jason opens his eyes to look at me, a tiny smile on his face. "Fast moves there. Alright, then I guess I'll need my phone." His smile falls away, and then he exhales almost loudly enough to be a sigh. "And, I should go. I've got cases waiting for me—"

"Or," I interrupt, "you could stay." He blinks, looking a little startled. "I haven't thanked you for breakfast yet," I murmur, pressing close, "and I don't think I've nearly had enough of you yet, Jason. Haven't had the chance to…" I lower my head to his neck, pulling some of the skin right below the corner of his jaw between my teeth for a moment with a low, satisfied hum. The way he inhales is just a little shaky. "Take my time with you."

"Oh yeah?" he breathes. "I think I can get behind that. I mean, those scratches on your back are all gone, right? I should give you some more."

I roll my hips into his, tightening my grip on his waist, and get a small groan in return. "How about I start with a little gratitude?"

I let go of him, sliding down to my knees, and he sucks in a sharp breath. I grin, slide my hands up the inside of his thighs, and lean in.

Midnighter's hands curl in my jacket, pulling me in for a hard kiss against my already kind of bruised lips. I still give a small gasp at the touch, and that's all it takes for one of his thick arms to let go and curl around my waist, dragging me up against him too.

I shudder, grabbing almost uselessly at his sides. "M," I breathe, pulling my mouth away from his and arching my neck back. It just means his mouth drops to my throat instead. "Jesus, M, no. I— I can't. I need to go home. I need—" A laugh bursts out of my throat, and I bend my head down and press it against his shoulder. "I need a break. I could sleep for a fucking week."

"I'd like to get you back before it's been a week," Midnighter says, with that satisfied, teasing edge to his voice. He does pull away though, even though he's smirking. "Alright, Cinderella. Go get home before midnight."

"Jackass," I shoot back, without any real heat. He leans down, hefting the fairly solid hunk of tech that's my 'souvenir,' and I murmur a, "Thanks," when he hands it to me. Heavy, but nothing I can't handle.

"I'll call you when I find a job," he promises. "If you want my help—"

"I'll ask," I finish, and match his smirk. "Thanks for the good time, M."

"My pleasure." His voice is rough and low, and god but it makes me shiver again even though I know there's no way I can go another round without some solid sleep. "Door."

The orange portal springs to life to my right, and he extends a hand with a half bow. I snort, shake my head, and walk through. It turns my gut a bit, makes me suck in a sharp breath, but I have dealt with nastier feelings before and it's only momentary. I swallow away the feeling, taking a look around and making sure that I'm back home where I should be. Or, as close to home as I've got.

The warehouse turned apartment that I'm sharing with Roy, that's half his workshop and half an actual living space.

I take a moment to breathe, hearing the door close behind me about half a second before some kind of warbling alarm goes off. I roll my head back, flicking my eyes towards the ceiling in hopeless prayer as I wait for whatever kind of security system Roy's got active to decide whether or not I'm a threat.

Luckily, it only gets as far as me hearing something electrical start to wind up before there's a shout of, "Shit, no! Command: echo-three! Shut down!"

I raise an eyebrow, watching Roy skid into view from the direction of the bathroom. His jeans are still undone, he's barefoot, there are what look like black soot marks on his tank-top, and his hair is in one of its messy, twisted ponytail loops that I always just want to pull at. He's been working, clearly. Usually when Roy gets into a groove he tends to forget about the world until it's over, including his own personal health. Hopefully, he's actually eaten something today.

His face lights up when he sees me, and he grins wide and happy and hurries over. "Jaybird! You're back!"

"Got you a gift," I start with, holding up the alien gun. "Don't blow anything up we can't replace, hm?"

Roy takes the gun, bare arms tightening at the weight and I definitely waste a second appreciating the curves of his biceps as he spins the tech to look at it. "Oh cool. Thanks, Jaybird; this is awesome."

He immediately detours towards his workshop benches, setting the gun down on a mostly clear spot. He looks like he's itching to dig into it, but he turns right back around and comes back to me instead. I lean forward as he reaches up, hands cupping my cheeks as he pulls me into a brief kiss.

"Welcome home," he says with a smile, and I smile back.

"Your zipper's undone," I point out, and he glances down before breaking out into another grin.

"You like it better that way anyway." He pulls me into a deeper kiss, one arm sliding around my shoulders, and I make a faint protesting noise.

"Roy," I murmur, when he pulls back, "no. I'm so tired; I just want to sleep."

He leans in, kisses me more shallowly. "Totally fair. You want some company?"

"I would love some company." I might be tired, sore, and definitely not ready to have any sex, but I will never turn down having Roy next to me in a bed. Or next to me at all.

I never did bring up the whole idea of exclusivity with Midnighter, but we did agree to no expectations or commitment. Yet. Roy's my best friend and more; he helped me get through everything with Dick, and kept me steady when I honestly probably would have fallen apart on my own. I don't feel like giving that up just because Midnighter is… Well, fucking incredible. And incredible at fucking. Jesus, I don't think I've ever had better sex in my life.

Roy huffs out a soft laugh, and I can feel his fingers comb through my hair, along my scalp. "Jaybird, baby, you're blissed out. Who the hell have you been fucking? Because I think I want a piece or two of that."

I laugh, content to let Roy run his fingers through my hair and feel him close. "You ever met Midnighter?"

"Heard of; haven't met."

"Well, I spent last night and all of today at his apartment."

Roy whistles, and then slowly tugs me forward and starts to steer me across the room. "That good then, huh? You fuck him, or…?"

I shake my head, letting Roy lead me in the direction of our beds; probably mine because it's just a little bigger. "No; he earned it and everything. Several times. You should see my shoulders, man."

"Describe him?"

I hum assent as Roy gets me into the sectioned off piece of warehouse that serves as my room, starting to work my gear off of me with sure, practiced hands. First the jacket, then my gloves, belt, and so on.

"About your height. Built like— like fucking Bruce though. Big, thick, muscled as all hell. Undercut, reddish brown hair, light brown eyes, bit of stubble." I groan at the memory, tilting my head back as Roy pulls the zipper on my armor down. "Voice is all low and dark and gravelly, but that kind of smug and satisfied gravel, not Bruce's grumpiness. Strong; enhanced strength, reflexes, healing, the works. And get this: he likes a fight."

"Sounds like just your kind of guy," Roy says with a grin, as he pushes my armor off my shoulders. "Oh wow, you were not kidding. Boy, did he take his teeth to you. Nails too; nice scratches you got on your back there. You're alright, right?"

I give a small laugh, and reach out to catch Roy's arm and pull him in against me. Just so I can loosely wrap my arms around his waist and tilt my head down against his neck. "Yeah, Roy, I'm so good. I think the words you used were 'blissed out.' I need to crash though; I'm kind of fucking exhausted."

"Jesus," Roy says, pulling me in the direction of the bed. "How many times did you guys go, Jason? I mean, we've fucked all day before but I don't think I've ever seen you quite like this."

He pushes me down, sets to work on getting my boots off. I close my eyes, tilting my head into the sheets and relaxing. "Are we using breaks between or orgasms to count?" I tease, and Roy smacks the inside of my calf.

"Either way I think I'm going to call it a lot. Alright, Jaybird, you just relax and pass out, and I'll get you stripped down and see about counting all those hickeys on your neck. Deal?"

I sigh, satisfaction still humming in my veins. "Deal," I murmur.