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Bruce has a reputation to uphold.
Most eligible playboy billionaire bachelor or whatever nonsense string of words that the latest Gotham gossip column still has him listed under.
That version of Bruce clearly doesn't have Jason making the most pornographic noises right in his ears while he is rutting himself back and forth across Bruce's lap, chasing friction and pleasure wherever he can get it. High pitched hiccups and unrestrained whimpers spill out from that kiss-bruised mouth. Bruce would tease but he can't physically get any harder and the hand he has around the base of his own cock is already a death grip.
Jason doesn't hold back on Bruce, he never does. He throws his head back, letting out the most wanton of moans, shaking even the steadiest of men. Bruce guides the head of his cock to Jason's entrance, easing inside where he burns wicked hot. Jason plays it all up to get what he wants. Not spoiled as much as he simply knows that he is Bruce's favourite.
He is also a theatre kid at heart, so why should that be any different even though he has died and came back?
Clenching down all around and he is tight, tight, tight.
Ego and stamina and reputation be damned.
His plush pink insides barely even fucked red or raw, and there are already the little bursts of ah-ah-ahs on each thrust being forced out from between those pretty bitten lips as Jason bounces on Bruce's lap. Rising up on his knees with both hands digging into Bruce's shoulders to brace himself, and then sinking back down until they are flushed to one another.
If anyone is watching the clock, Bruce barely makes five minutes.
It is a handful of thrusts even if each one is deep, is hard, bottoming out and burying inside to the very hilt. Jason is deliberate where he drags his fingernails up the span of Bruce's back, drawing blood where he scratches against skin. It's no worse than any of the superficial injuries they suffer through on the regular but it's enough to get him embarrassingly close.
Like literal blood in the water and Jason bites every time.
He leans in close, panting heavily into Bruce's ears, and it is still those high pitch noises more fittingly heard in high production porn. But Jason is also moaning loudly to say d-dad in that exact same breathy tone.
And Bruce is absolutely gone.
Coming hard enough to see white in his vision or stars in his eyes or whatever else type of stuff people in love would say.
In Bruce's lap, Jason stills himself at the sudden warm wet rush inside of him. He knows that sensation intimately. Has felt it enough times, so deep inside like this, to mistake it for anything else. Both hands move from his shoulders to touch Bruce's face, a curl of his fingers to cup at Bruce's jaw and Jason is tugging his chin up so the man will look at him.
Jason's eyes when Bruce meets his gaze are full of mirth, big and blue and green and wide.
Jason remarks with that same red bitten mouth. "That was fast."
"Jaylad." Bruce says in warning but the little shit is already smirking at him.
Jason doesn't outright laugh at him, a full-bellied thing that rings long and loud to make his shoulders shake, but he also doesn't move from his spot in Bruce's lap. Jason just clenches down tight enough on Bruce's softening cock to get him wincing from the overstimulation, and then he is settling in to warm Bruce's cock because it's only fair.
"I'm holding you to a proper round two when you can get it up again, dad."
They can both feel the way Bruce's cock twitches weakly inside of him. It's really not for a lack of trying when Jason calls him that.