Batman Begins, Batman/Gordon, water under the bridge
Full fic with build up can be found here. Profuse apologies that I couldn't even get the porn bit to fit in one comment. I fail. I hope it still makes some sorta sense anyway.
Jim felt the change in the air just a hairs-breadth before the rasping voice sounded a few feet away from him, his back stiffening instantly, shoulders tensing.
"I'm not going to keep saving your life just for you to kill yourself slowly with cigarettes." A hint of warmth laced the low, gravelly tone.
Gordon's eyebrow quirked sardonically as he stood at his back door, his lips curving into a genuine smile but he didn't turn around. "Nice to know you care," he replied, an equal warmth colouring his words.
"We're fighting the same battles... you and I."
The tension knotting Jim's shoulders seeped away and finally dissolved. "Yes. Yes, we are," he nodded. Still he didn't turn around. A distant memory of one of his grandmother's favourite sayings uttered to him many times as a child flitted at the edges of his mind, just out of his reach. He opened his mouth to say something but the quick fluttering of a cape stopped him. Standing alone, the elusive saying flitted and twirled maddeningly at the far corners of his mouth, his brain and lips working in tandem in an effort to grasp them once and for all. The longed for words danced precariously on the very tip of his tongue when suddenly a gloved hand rested firmly and decisively on the nape of his neck, short-circuiting all conscious thoughts and words completely and utterly.
Jim expressed an inarticulate, keening sound he was positive he'd never made in his life before. All his senses narrowed in on that hand; smelling the undeniable scent of soft leather; hearing the faintest creak as it moved with his laboured breathing; feeling his skin tingling under the warm weight; seeing in his mind's eye the dark black material contrasting with the pale skin of his neck sheened with sweat. What would it taste like?
A thumb slowly caressed up and down the side of his throat and Jim uttered that inarticulate noise again for the second time in his life, only longer and more drawn out. The slow caress continued, soft panting breaths turning harsher as his heart jack-hammered against his ribcage, his erection aching for release. And then he was being pulled around and pushed back against the porch railings, a hot urgent tongue clashing with his own as his mouth yielded willingly to a fierce, almost brutal kiss.
A wall of solid muscle, kevlar and leather pressed against him, into him, his fevered flesh under the thin cotton of his clothes moulding itself to the curves and contours of the body hugging armour, trail-fires of lust sparking straight to his groin as his nipples rubbed over and over against the ridges of the suit.