John blinks his eyes open, waking from his nap. He yawns and tries to stretch only to be restricted by Bane’s arms. The man is still sound asleep. John hums to himself and somehow manages to wedge himself out of Bane’s grip without stirring him. He stretches his arms, cramped after being pressed to Bane for so long.
He looks at the man, strewn about and dead asleep, and figures-
it may be time to wake him.
It was the wet heat that finally woke him up. Movement and weight had not been enough to shift Bane from a dreamless sleep into reality, exhaustion making him hard to wake,
but the steady attention between his legs and the wet heat that enclosed around him had a strangled moan struggling up and out through his vocal cords, tangling it self out of his mask as his eyes finally drifted open. The first thing he realized was that the bed sheet covered him from the chest down, hiding John, for who else would have the audacity to wake Bane this way, from his view. No, that was a down right lie. It was difficult not to notice that he was hard. Blessedly, straining and seeking further attention hard. “John,” his tone a warning, his hand shifting from his side to where the sheet laid over John’s head. With every intention of pulling the sheet away, Bane stopped at John’s warning. Not because of John’s words, but the obscene sound that fell from John’s lips just before he spoke. A groan tumbled itself from deep within Bane’s chest, clashing it’s way through his mask. His hand fell down on John’s head, but instead of slipping the sheet off, Bane kept it there as if to encourage him on.