Patreon Compilation – Fic#208 – Bruce/Jason – stink kink; fart kink – Batcave (Patreon)

Bruce/Jason – Red Hood wants to grab a bit of intel from the batcave since Bruce for some reason has not denied him access as of yet. He very quickly gets derailed, though.

warning: very intense stink kink; probably skip this one if it isn't your cup of tea/you are unsure.

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Jason doesn’t need much. He just wants to grab a few files and maybe see what Bruce got cooking on that computer of his just so he could grab the case faster and make him mad.

It’s telling that B-man still hasn’t changed his security to exclude Jason. The asshole is a glutton for punishment. He practically begs to be robbed blind by Jason and for him to maybe take a steaming shit on his dining table while he’s at it. Something to the extent.

He sneaks down into the cave and makes a beeline for the computer only to come up short when he notices something hanging on a clothes hanger right next to it: B’s suit.

Jason narrows his eyes and shuffles a little closer, his earlier plan to get in and out in under ten minutes already derailing because he can smell the stink wafting off of the thing even a couple meters away.

If he had to guess, he’d say that Bruce went out hunting villains last night and was too damn lazy to put his suit in the cleaner afterwards. Hung it up as if he’s about to hop into it again. Damn fuck, the thing reeks. If he really intended to put his swampy ass back in there, he’d immobilize the villains on pure stink alone.

Jason pulls a face underneath his hood. He hadn’t thought that Bruce could even sink deeper but it seems depression’s got him good. Which he likes. Hopefully it’ll stay that way for a while.

Jason wants to turn away, but he doesn’t. He gets closer until he can feel the cloying scent of sweat gathering on the back of his tongue. He’s starting to salivate and his palms are sweaty inside his gloves.

He looks around himself but the cave is only lit by the few emergency lights that already make it damn hard to see anything at all.

Maybe just… maybe just a little whiff. He can just indulge his kink for a moment and then get back on track with getting the files and the info that he’s come here for in the first place. That he stumbled upon Bruce’s nasty, sweaty suit has just been a surprising roadblock that he can’t just ignore right now.

Fingers shaking, Jason pulls up his own hood, folding it until his mouth and nose are freed from fabric. He licks his lips. Without even that little bit of barrier there to dull the rank scent, he feels hit in the face with it. God fuck… there’s no way this is just buildup from one night. Bruce absolutely has been working in this suit for a few days straight, there’s no doubt about it.

He has no idea how he managed to do that with Alfred around, but it’s not like he cares. Jason doesn’t care about it. He really doesn’t. Other than stuffing his face against the suit’s armpit and inhaling deeply.

His first instinct is to gag, bile rising quickly up his esophagus. He feels like he’s about to actually puke but can fight it down in favor of opening his pants and getting his dick out at least.

He’s already mostly on his way to a hard-on and in his palm quickly fills out more. It’s been… he doesn’t know how long since he could just indulge. He’s just so full of work and it’s surprisingly difficult to find good discrete guys who like to get a stink on…

Shit, this suit is absolutely rank. His eyes are watering and he has to clench them shut a few times while he loudly sniffs those pits. Part of him likes to pretend that he’s being forced to do it.

When he’s got his fill, he stumbles a small step back, wiping a hand over his face. He feels delirious, his head pounding after all the rank air he’s been inhaling. His cock is swinging from his open fly, desperately hard and drooling. There are droplets of pre-cum on the floor which he’ll definitely have to remember later and wipe away so B wouldn’t get suspicious… though he doubts he’ll ever imagine someone getting off on the nasty stink of his suit.

Fuck, he’s even left his boots there. Jason almost really does puke then just from imagining their stench. He has to talk himself into falling down to his knees and grabbing one of them. His stomach is revolting but his cock is pounding so hard it’s near painful. He can imagine coming just from filling his lungs with the rank scent. Just shooting off while fighting down the urge to puke and choke on it.

He grabs one of the boots and is just about to put his face into the opening when he hears footsteps approaching. Heavy and slow and definitely, absolutely not Alfred’s. Jason’s heart leaps into his throat, fingertips prickling as if he’s about to have a stroke or something. He sets the boot down and is about to bolt when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, fingers digging into him like iron.

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that it is Bruce who caught him.

“Disgusting.” His rough voice sounds unimpressed. Jason wonders how long he’s been watching him get off on sniffing his rank, used uniform. His cock twitches, sticking awkwardly out his pants with no way to discreetly put himself away.

“Get down, punk.” B pulls him back, forcing him to topple onto his back. Jason hits the ground hard and it briefly knocks the wind out of him. Peering up, he can’t exactly start breathing anyway. B is standing over him naked, only wearing a pair of his heavy boots. His dick is drooping under its own weight, foreskin long and a drip of pre-cum dangling from it.

Jason opens his mouth but the only thing that he manages to get out is a weak ‘the fuck?’.

Bruce looks down on him like Jason is the pervert. His cool eyes are boring through him before he steps forward and over Jason’s head, boots left and right of him. This close he can smell that these, too, have been used excessively… but he is too focused on B’s dangling sac above him to say something. He’s shocked into silence by the situation. A drip of Bruce’s pre-cum falls onto his black shirt. He finds himself wanting to pull his shirt up under his armpits but has to remind himself that he is hating what is happening right now. Y-Yeah… fuck this.

He grabs Bruce’s ankles, intent on tripping him so he can get the fuck out of the situation… but B is faster than him. He kneels down without warning, placing those large, hanging nuts directly over Jason’s nose and mouth.

The stench is eye watering. Jason flails, trying to both voice his displeasure but also keep his mouth shut, lest one of Batman’s sweaty nuts slides against his tongue.

“Take a deep whiff,” B growls over him. He sounds deranged; exactly how Jason imagines someone should sound when they got their life spinning out of control this hard and this fast. “You liked it from my suit, didn’t you? Sick bastard… go and have it right from the source, then.”

He moves his ass, dragging his sweaty balls and crack over Jason’s face and pushing his mask up in the process. There’s nothing saving him from having Batman’s ass sweat ingraned in his face or how he is basically shoving it up his nose.

Jason’s eyes roll into his head. He struggles and gags but B is an absolute boulder on top of him, not swaying an inch from his place. His nutsac is draped over Jason’s chin, hot and wet like the rest of the swampy mess between his thighs.

He doesn’t want B to think that he likes what is happening but… fuck… fuck, he hasn’t had a nasty bastard like him in a long, long while and he can’t help it if he opens his mouth after all to tongue the sweaty space between B’s asshole and his nutsac.

Somewhere above he can hear him exhale explosively but as ever, Bruce is a man of little words. He just shifts a little, spreading his legs farther so his asscrack can open up some more.

Jason’s whole head is pounding. He just licks Bruce’s taint until he realizes that the bastard is angling his puckered asshole to be serviced by him as well.

He doesn’t put up much of a fight, just… starts licking. B’s ass is as sweaty as the rest of him. Jason couldn’t tell whether the smell is worse with his nose stuck between those hairy cheeks, everything is just humid and hot and… a lot. His heart is pounding a mile a minute and his dick is out there for B to see. He’s hard as fuck still, twitching every time he swirls his tongue around the pouty pucker of his asshole. He’d never thought about Batman’s rim before but now that he knows that he’s got one of those nasty pouty ones, he knows he’ll never not be able to think about it.

When B unceremoniously farts into his open mouth, Jason starts choking, a quiet tier rolling down from the corner of his eyes, feeling supremely humiliated… but it doesn’t keep him from coming over his pants like the nasty pervert he is while Bruce calls him a disgusting waste of space.