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Dick hates how big his room is at the manor. It’d been different when he was a kid, when he’d done handsprings off every conceivable surface, but now he just wants to sleep. His bed is smaller at his apartment, and somehow it hurts more to be alone in all this empty space. Or maybe it’s just the knowledge that Bruce is just out of reach. A city away is easier than a few rooms, because at least then there’s excuses.
His legs are still pleasantly shaky from what he and Jay did earlier that night, though the heat of the shower had washed away the stickiness and the worst of the aches. He smiles to himself as he pulls the blankets just a bit tighter, but the memory isn’t enough to make the cold side of the bed feel any less lonely.
He hears the distant click of a lightswitch, hears a door squeak open down the hall. Bruce is home, and he’ll be making his rounds to see which of his kids are sleeping in the manor tonight. He must know what Dick has done by now. A door opens down the hall. He’ll be looking in on Tim, and then Damian. Just to assure himself that everyone is home, is safe, is whole. Then it’ll be Dick’s turn, and he’ll linger. Bruce will stand in the doorway, hands shaking with impotent longing, and finally turn away and deny himself once again.
If Bruce is silent in boots and a cape, he’s even more deadly in bare feet and silk pajama pants. Dick doesn’t know he’s outside the door until it creaks open, throwing a sliver of light over his face. Bruce looms in the doorframe, somehow still imposing even shirtless and wet haired.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” He growls the words, his voice more Bat than Bruce.
Dick swallows hard, trying to deny the jolt of arousal that shoots through his frame. He thought he’d gotten rid of that response years ago, but the voice and the bed and the lack of clothing are all too much. He takes a breath, steadying himself before replying.
“So you liked it?” Dick knows Bruce can see right through his cavalier grin, but makes the effort anyway.
“There are better places for that kind of thing.”
Now the grin is real. “You liked it.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Bruce repeats, but now his voice is more natural.
“But then you wouldn’t be standing here.” He’s been toeing a line for months, years maybe. Flirting, but not too much. Seducing, but not obviously enough. Not enough to cause a rift between them. He knows he’s crossing that line now, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Bruce says. He steps inside the room and closes the door. Dick flicks on the bedside lamp. Bruce is beautiful in the half-light, and Dick can just see the outline of his cock inside his pajama pants.
“I think I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Bruce’s shoulders lower, and he looks more vulnerable standing there than Dick’s seen him in months. Years, maybe. “Don’t you dare toy with me. Do anything you like, but stop playing these games.”
Dick closes his eyes, sighs. He hates seeing Bruce like this. “What makes you think it’s a game?”
“It has to be.”
Dick stands. And if he crossed the line before, now he’s doing handsprings over it, but all the same it feels like flying. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of Batman boxers as he walks towards Bruce. He leans up, inches away from his mouth, and whispers.
“But what if it’s not?”
Bruce’s hands are still shaking. Even if Bruce kicks him out now, never speaks to him again, it’ll still be a thrill to know he got even that much of a reaction out of the Batman.
Dick leans against his chest, feeling Bruce’s erection against his abdomen. “Please, Bruce. Just touch me.”
Bruce closes his eyes, leans forward until there’s only a hairsbreadth between their faces.
“Okay.”
Dick closes his eyes, lips parted. He never actually believed he’d get this far. Part of him had always thought he’d go to his grave wanting, but now that Bruce was in front of him he didn’t know what to do.
And then Bruce’s lips are against his, big and chapped and gentle, and it’s everything Dick’s ever needed but been too afraid to ask for. Dick wants to cling to him and never let go, but Bruce has to be gentled. He’ll have to be convinced to take what he wants.
Dick swipes his tongue against Bruce’s lower lip, pleading for more, and Bruce groans. He pulls Dick closer, his hands warm on Dick’s bare back. His hands are bigger than Jason’s. Dick moans as Bruce’s thumb sweeps a gentle semicircle on his shoulder blade, and Bruce takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in the younger man’s mouth.
Dick finally remembers that he needs to breathe and pulls away, grinning. “You’re so good, B. Everything I ever wanted.” Maybe he’s maudlin. He doesn’t care.
Bruce smiles. Dick’s been hoarding his smiles for most of his life, but this one is his favorite. He can’t help but kiss it. And if Dick had known all it took to make the goddamn Batman smile like that was one beautiful, stupid kiss, he’d have kissed him years ago. He nips at Bruce’s lip, and Bruce growls, fucking growls, and pushes him back on the bed.
Bruce is heavy over him, his cock hard against Dick’s stomach, and Dick’s never felt this safe and whole.
“Gorgeous,” Bruce says, hand coming up to cup Dick’s face, fingers tracing his cheekbone. He hums his appreciation as he kisses his way down Dick’s neck. He pauses when he comes to the hickey Jason had left earlier, and for the first time Dick begins to regret one of his actions tonight. Bruce raises his head, looking Dick in the eyes. And smirks.
“Is that what you like? To be marked?”
“God, yes.” Dick can’t think of anything better than a “property of Bruce Wayne” sign anywhere Bruce wants to put it. He’d tattoo it on his ass if Bruce asked nicely enough, preferably while doing that thing he’s doing. Bruce sucks another mark next to the one Jay left, this one larger and darker. And if anything in Dick’s life is going to turn into a pissing contest between Bruce and Jason, it being who fucks him better is at least great motivation.
Bruce raises his head again. Dick is used to squirming beneath his gaze, but this is for an entirely different reason. All that focus, that passion, that drive, it’s all his for the night.
“What do you like? What do you want?” Bruce’s eyes sweep down his body, and perhaps a lesser man would be self-conscious, but so long as his boxers are on, Dick’s confidence is untouchable.
Dick’s thankful. There are a million ways Bruce could’ve asked him about his genitals, and this one doesn’t hurt at all. Even good intentions have gone awry, and there’s nothing that kills the mood like feeling like some fetish or science experiment.
“I’m pretty flexible.” He winks, and if this were any other moment Bruce would have half-seriously glared, but instead Dick’s rewarded with a deep groan. “My collarbones are really sensitive. Drives me crazy when they’re bitten. Can’t feel as much from my nipples anymore, so you’ve got to be a little rough. Feels so good though.” Bruce nods, and Dick can practically hear him setting up a new file in his brain on how to drive Dick wild. It’s almost humbling.
Dick gestures to the twin scars on either side of his chest. “Don’t like attention to the scars, though. Like having my clit played with—you can call it my clit. Clinical terms are generally good. Slang, not so much.” Dick might be smiling. He bares his teeth in a gesture that’s either a smile or an offer to eat Bruce alive. Maybe both. “Want you to fuck me. Need you inside me.” He rolls his hips up against Bruce’s. “I like it when you touch me. God, Bruce. Anything you want from me.”
Bruce kisses him, and he doesn’t do anything awkward like thank him for being honest, because honestly that’s best saved for times when Dick’s not wet enough to smell himself.
“I want anything you want,” Bruce says, and if that’s not the best sound Dick’s ever heard then the title goes to the noise Bruce makes when Dick palms his erection through the front of his pants. It’s not a whimper, because Batman doesn’t whimper, but it’s the closest equivalent.
Bruce kisses his way down Dick’s chest, stopping to bite at a nipple as Dick arches his back and shoves his chest in Bruce’s face. He keeps going lower, pausing when he gets to the Batman boxers.
“Wear these often?” He hooks his fingers in the waistband and gently pulls them downward.
“For something special,” Dick says. His brain isn’t at full capacity, and it almost stops working completely as Bruce pulls them off. His hands are on Dick’s ass, lifting it for easy access. Bruce blows cold air over Dick’s clit, and his hips would buck into the air if Bruce’s hands weren’t holding him so firmly. “I wear ‘em to pretend I belong to you.”
“You do.” Dick didn’t know Bruce’s voice could even get that deep. Bruce reaches up to the head of the bed for a pillow, shoving it under Dick’s hips and gripping them hard enough to leave bruises.
Dick whines. “Please, B. Need you.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to suck me off. Want your fingers in me.”
Bruce obliges with a long, slow lick from vagina to clit.
“SHIT.” Dick’s already babbling as Bruce begins to lap at him, slipping one finger inside him. Bruce curls his finger at different angles until Dick’s attempts at language turn to wordless keening, then adds a second. As he begins to thrust his fingers, he begins to lap at Dick’s clit.
“Fucking hell.”
Bruce lifts his head to smile at Dick, his fingers still fucking the younger man. The bottom half of his face is wet and glistening in the lamplight. “You taste so good.” Dick whines at his words. “Do you want to come?”
Dick’s whine turns into a moan, his head falling back on the pillow. “Please.”
“What do you need?”
Dick was right. Bruce is the most considerate lover he’s ever had. If Jason is fire, Bruce is water, and Dick is drowning.
“More. Another finger.” Words are hard. His entire world has narrowed down to Bruce. His lips, tongue, fingers. Dick reaches down to tangle his hands in Bruce’s hair. It’s just long enough to get a good grip and still a little damp from his shower.
Bruce obliges, adding a third finger and curling them at just the right angle. Dick chokes on a strangled sob as Bruce sucks hard on his clit, flicking his tongue against the tip.
“Holy fucking shit. Please. So fucking close.” Bruce moans around his clit, and suddenly it’s too much. His hands tighten in Bruce’s hair and he screams as he comes. He’s still babbling as he comes down from the high. “Fuck. So good. Best I’ve ever had. You’re so goddamn good.”
Bruce surges up his body to kiss him. Dick can taste himself on his lips, and it’s probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.
“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” Bruce says as he pulls away.
Dick laughs. “Says the man who’s got me all over his face.” He punctuates the statement by licking Bruce’s face clean. “Your turn.” He kisses his way down Bruce’s neck. “Can I leave a mark?”
“Please. It’s not like the press will be surprised.”
“Let’s leave out the part where you’re fucking your ex-ward.” Dick flipped Bruce on his back, a move that’s apparently much easier in the bedroom than during training. He grinned down at him, grinding against Bruce’s hard cock before setting to work biting and sucking a mark onto Bruce’s collarbone.
He stops when he feels Bruce’s shoulders tense, shifting his hips forward to somewhere more innocuous.
“What’d I do?” Dick’s eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and his voice is concerned. His question is met with silence. “Talk to me, B.”
“This is wrong,” Bruce says. “I gave in. I’m supposed to be better than this.”
Dick freezes. “Better than…me?” His face looks like he’s been shot. And they both know exactly what face Dick makes when he’s shot.
“No. Never.” Bruce pauses to collect his words. He looks older somehow when he’s like this. All the life drains out of him. Dick climbs off him to sit next to him on the bed. “Better than giving in. Than taking advantage. Better than hurting you.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. You obviously know that. I’m a consenting adult, and I made the first move. We’re always gonna hurt each other, B. That’s just who we are. But this? This is nothing like hurting me.” Dick pauses, gauging Bruce’s mood. The tension seems to be leaving him, so he decides to go for it. “Unless you’re into that. Because I’d totally be into that.”
“I never want to hurt you. Not for real.”
“I know. You’re not.” Dick half-smiles, something wistful in his face and voice. “There’s something stupid and self-destructive inside both of us. Difference is, you take to regret like I take to breathing. Don’t regret this, Bruce. Don’t you fucking dare.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t.”
“I’ll try.” Bruce pulls Dick back on top of him, crashing their lips together. It’s desperate and sloppy and wonderful. He clings to Dick, arms wrapped tightly around him, one hand caressing the back of his neck. Dick sighs happily into the kiss.
“Wanna touch you,” Dick says. “That ok?”
“Whatever you want.” Bruce smiles as Dick’s face lights up. Dick bites Bruce’s neck, fingers coming up to rub at his nipples. “Shit. Especially that.” Dick latches his mouth onto Bruce’s right nipple while his fingers continue playing with his left. Bruce groans, fingers digging into Dick’s back. Dick switches sides, not letting up until both nipples are red and far too sensitive.
“Gonna blow you,” Dick says, sliding down to pull off Bruce’s pants. Bruce isn’t wearing underwear, and he’s not that surprised. What does surprise him is Bruce’s cock. He’d spent a lot of time extrapolating what it’d look like hard, but he didn’t expect it to be so pretty. He’s cut, and the head is flushed purple and dripping. Bruce is more than proportional, and Dick wants nothing more than to get his mouth around him, so he does. He tastes good, like salt and skin and musk, and the weight in Dick’s mouth and the stretch of his lips feel almost too good to be true. He moans, swirling his tongue around the head, and Bruce makes a noise like he got all the air punched out of him. Then without warning, he swallows Bruce’s cock to the base.
“FUCK.” Hearing Bruce lose control is almost as much of a turn on as the hard cock in his throat. Bruce’s hands fly to his head, then hover around his hair.
Dick slides his mouth off with a pop, grinning wickedly. “Pull my hair, Bruce. Fuck my mouth.” And stoicism be damned, that was definitely a whimper.
“You sure it’s okay?”
“The only way it wouldn’t be is if you didn’t do it.”
Bruce groans, takes two fistfuls of Dick’s hair, and guides him down on his cock. His hands guide Dick’s head up and down as Bruce’s hips thrust into his mouth.
“God fucking damnit. So fucking pretty. So fucking good. Wanted you so long.” Bruce’s words go straight to Dick’s clit. He considers rubbing himself, but decides that he has bigger plans for his next orgasm. Bruce continues his litany of phrases before pulling Dick off his cock.
“You ok?” Dick says. His lips are red and slick, and his voice is huskier than usual.
“Better than. But I don’t want to come yet.” His smile is absolutely filthy. “I want to fuck you.”
Dick fumbles in his nightstand drawer for a condom. His hands are clumsy with excitement and sensory overload. He rips the wrapper open and rolls it down Bruce’s cock with his mouth. Jason taught him that trick, and he learned from god-knows-who (but probably Roy). None of that is information Bruce particularly needs to know, though he could probably guess. It’s not like he didn’t watch his own personal high-definition porn of Dick and Jason immediately before coming up here.
But Dick would rather think of Bruce now. Bruce grabs Dick’s shoulders and flips them over so he’s on top. Dick moans. Being manhandled is always a turn-on, but it’s even better to have Bruce around him and over him and, soon, inside him. It’s easy to forget how big Bruce is when Dick’s spending half his time in midair.
“Feel good?” Bruce asks once he’s fully inside him. Dick responds with a bruising kiss. Dick’s always been a big of a size king, and he’s never felt so full.
“Fuck me,” Dick says, and Bruce chuckles.
“I think I can handle that.” Bruce begins thrusting at a punishing pace, pounding into Dick. Neither of them expect this to last long; they’ve had years of slow, subtle foreplay. Ever since Dick donned the Nightwing suit and Bruce realized he was a man now, and what a man. Every moment had been leading up to this one. “Going to fuck you so hard you forget how to use your legs. Going to make you forget your own name.”
Dick responds to each thrust with an upward moment of his hips, a silent plea for deeper, faster, more. He’s beyond words now, whimpering with each stroke.
“Nothing’s ever felt this good. You’re amazing, Dickie. So perfect. So good for me.” Bruce keeps whispering endearments as he fucks Dick harder. As he feels his orgasm approaching, he reaches a hand to rub fast, tiny circles into Dick’s clit. Dick screams Bruce’s name, shaking underneath him. Dick’s vision whites out as his body convulses, clenching tighter around Bruce’s cock.
“So good. So beautiful. Love you so much.” Bruce thrusts once more and comes, biting down on Dick’s collarbone. Dick’s still shaking, and he whines as he feels Bruce’s cock pulsing inside him.
Once they’re both back in the land of the living, Bruce rolls off Dick, ties off the condom, and tosses it neatly into the trash can across the room. When he turns back to Dick, he’s looking at him with wide eyes.
“Did you mean it?” Dick says. His lips are parted slightly, and Bruce wants nothing more than to kiss him, but he knows it would seem like stalling.
“Every word.”
“Even the…loving?”
“Especially that.” Then Bruce does kiss him, and he feels Dick smiling against his lips.
Dick’s still smiling when he pulls back. “Think I’ve loved you since forever.”
“Good. Then I can love you till then.”
Dick’s face splits into a smile that could rival the sun. “Stay the night?”
“Of course.” Bruce rolls onto his back, and Dick cuddles into him, head on his shoulder. Bruce wraps an arm around him, and they both close their eyes.
“Love you, Batman.”
“Love you, Nightwing.”
And if this was all Dick ever got, he’d be content for the rest of his life. But when he woke up, Bruce was still holding him.