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Damian was not sure at first what to think of the new kid. He was.. a little odd.
He always has a thermos in his backpack, but never eats anything out of it at lunch. He's a geek by all standards; nerdy as they come, and one of the smartest in their class. He has a special touch with mechanics and software, and it would be impressive, if Damian cared about any of that. Most importantly, however, is that for some reason, he saw Damian on his first day at Gotham Academy, and decided to sit by him, despite the glare sent his way.
He has black hair, much like Damian's own, but the similarities stop there. He has icy blue eyes, and sickly pale skin, and a Lichtenberg figure scar running from his hand all the way up his arm, neck, and face into his hairline. He has white streaks in his hair stemming from where the scar disturbs it, almost like Damian's older brother Jason, and more white underneath, like a reverse undercut.
Normally, Damian would be upset by this unknown, uncontrolled variable, uprooting the one part of his life that he can count on to be consistently boring every day, but then Danny bustles through the classroom door and finds Damian with the empty desk at his side and beams, and he finds he's fine with it.
They, coincidentally, share the majority of their classes together. At first, Damian found it irrtating. Now he's secretly relieved.
Their history teacher had everyone pair up for a project on the civil war that's due in a couple weeks, and Damian, having no other friends in the class, and Danny, who seems to like him for some reason, paired up together.
They're on their way to Wayne Manor, because Danny clammed up when Damian asked if he would rather work at his house, and he decided that was not an option. So, he'd called Alfred and told him to expect Danny, (Daniel, he always calls him aloud, much to Danny's amusement) and Danny texted his older sister that he would be home late.
Alfred pulls into the manor, and opens the doors to the car for the boys. Damian nods to him graciously, but Danny thanks him enthusiastically, with a wide grin, that Damian has to look away from for fear of breaking his composure.
They make their way up to Damian's room, chatting about ideas for the project—nothing fun, just a poster of some sort—but then Danny stops short at a wall of family portraits, a sly smile on his face. Damian sighs through his nose.
"That's you, right?" Danny asks, pointing to a photo of Damian, at ten years old, right after he had come to live with Father, scowling at the camera.
"Yes," he replies. "I was ten."
Danny laughs a little. "You were so cute, Dames," he coos. Damian crosses his arms over his chest, scrunching up his face in mock distaste. He hates the way his stomach swoops at the sound of the nickname that usually only his family dares to use for him on Danny's lips. He will allow it. Danny's eyes scour the rest of the photos for any more of him, and light up as soon as he sees one, but it's high up.
It's a family portrait, with everyone in it for once, and Damian watches with wide eyes as Danny's feet lift off the ground, floating upwards in the air.
"Danny..?" Damian breathes, and Danny glances down.
"Oh- shit-" Danny plops back down to the ground, landing firmly on his feet. He grimaces. "Sorry. I, uh.."
Damian squints at him. "You're a meta."
Danny tilts his head. He is tense. "Of a sort." He examines Damian's face for any sort of rejection, and Damian offers none. He will find no judgement there.
"My brother is a meta," Damian finds himself blurting. He looks away from Danny's blue eyes, and towards the photos, finding one of Duke to points towards. "And I have a friend. His name is Jon." He doesn't expand that Jon is half alien.
Danny smiles softly in Damian's peripheral vision. He's looking towards the photo of Duke, and searching for more. There's less of him, as he's the newest of their family, but Father was careful to include at least a handful.
"Man.. why is everyone in your family hot?" Danny asks, sounding dismayed. His eyes skate around from picture to picture. They linger longer on ones of Dick and Jason, and Damian feels a little like covering his eyes. "I mean– not Alfred. But like.. everyone else." Damian grimaces.
"Shall we get started?" Damian asks after a few moments, drawing Danny's attention back to himself. It soothes the rising irritation (jealousy, he knows, distantly, but would rather die than admit it) in his chest, though he's not sure why.
"Yeah, of course, sorry." Danny grins. They continue towards Damian's room. "It's nice you have family photos. Jazz, my sister, was always the one doing stuff like that."
Damian examines his side profile, the hidden grief in his eyes. "Yes, well, Father is very particular about it all. He likes documenting things carefully. I believe it is because his late parents missed his own growing up, and thus he doesn't have many photos of himself until he was an adult so he wants to grant the rest of us this."
Danny smiles. "That's sweet." He grasps Damian's wrist gently, and Damian looks down at it, swallowing the frog in his throat that it creates, and trying to think past the swish of panic rising in his chest. Danny's looking through any open doors they pass, and not at all towards Damian, so he allows himself a glance towards his face. It only serves him a raise in his heart rate.
Damian guides him, finally, into his bedroom, and closes the door gently behind them with a click. Danny's hand slips away from him, eyes combing the walls, expression full of wonder as he examines the collection of weapons that Damian has amassed since coming to live in Gotham.
"There's so many!" Damny exclaims. His feet lift off the ground again, and he floats over to a rack of swords, katanas specifically, that Father had gifted him only last year for his birthday. They were a beautiful set, and Damian usually refused to allow anyone to touch them, but even as his heart leaps as Danny's fingers ghost over them, he does not object. "Where'd they come from?"
"That set is imported from Japan. They were crafted sometime in the 1600s, and preserved by the original owner's descendants until they put it up for auction last year, and Father bought it," Damian replies.
"Y'know, it's so cool that you just know that kind of stuff," Danny says, looking at him over his shoulder, eyes alight.
Damian rolls his eyes. "Tt. I.. prefer to know the origins of the weapons I collect."
Danny flies over to a sharp pair of blades, and touches the sharp end of it with a finger. He jerks away as soon as he does, cradling his fingertip. "Ow, sharp!" A drop of blood falls to the carpet. He sticks his finger in his mouth, and floats back down to the ground.
Damian walks over to him, concerned. "Let me see."
"It's fine," Danny replies, but places his hand in Damian's anyway. Damian pulls his finger towards him, but sees no evidence of a cut, except for a silvery sliver of a scar. He looks up, perturbed, and Danny smiles sheepishly. "I heal pretty fast. Sorry about your carpet, though. You might have a harder time getting that out."
"Tt. Pay that no mind." Damian traces his thumb along the tiny scar, realizing even that is nearly gone now. "Incredible." He glances up at Danny's face, only to find him looking already, an unreadable expression on his face. "I have a lot of questions, but I doubt you'd answer them."
Danny smiles, and shrugs. "You can go ahead. I don't mind."
Damian's gaze flicks down again briefly before staying firmly attached to Danny's face. "Were you born with your powers?"
Danny shakes his head. "Nope. Got them when I was fourteen, in a lab accident." He looks down at his arm, the one with the intense scarring, before looking back to Damian. He understands; that was when he gained that as well. His fingers slide Danny's sleeve up his arm, and he can hear Danny's breath hitch when he strokes across the ragged, raised lines spiderwebbing up his forearm. "O-oh. I could sense something around you, but.. Damian, you've.. died before, haven't you?"
Damian looks up at him sharply. "How?" He demands. He's sure his eyes are sharp, calculating, defensive, mean, against Danny, but he needs to know how this total stranger (his friend, they're friends, his mind reminds him, unhelpfully) deduced that off of a simple touch.
Danny smiles gently. "You know how I said 'of a sort' earlier?" Damian nods sharply, his hand tightening on Danny's wrist, making him glance down. "Well.. I'm a ghost. Er- half a ghost, I guess. Not a normal superpowered human."
Damian squints. He's heard this explanation, nearly verbatim before. "You're Phantom, aren't you?"
Danny scrunches his face up. "How the fu- no wait, duh-" he smacks his forehead. "You're fucking Robin. The swords."
Damian smirks. "Indeed. That does explain the coincidence of you showing up, and then your secret identity soon after."
"I really didn't wanna be Phantom here, but I had to help someone, and fucking Red Robin saw me so.." He grimaces. He searches Damian's face again for something, and Damian offers only easy acceptance. It would be hypocritical if he didn't, of course. "Right, well, that's officially two out of three of my big three secrets, I think. I have powers, I'm Phantom.."
Damian frowns. "I realize asking for the third defeats the purpose of it being a secret, but.." He looks down at the hand he still has on Danny's wrist, and gently strokes the soft skin of Danny's inner arm, making him suck in a sharp breath as he passes over the raised scar. "May I hear it anyways?"
Danny flushes a warm pink, and ducks his head a little, nearly knocking Damian's forehead with his own, with how close they're standing. "I- I guess." He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. "The third one is.. I have a huge fucking crush on you."
Damian is quiet for a moment. Danny.. has a crush. On him? (Of all the nice, pretty people he talks to at school, he chooses Damian? Any of them would want him back, surely. How could they not? He's kind, and funny, and thoughtful, and a little mysterious, and so, so pretty.) Danny peeks at him from one eye, then opens the other, and looks at him a little expectantly. Damian blinks, then furrows his brows. He is not good with words, not like Danny always seems to be, but he can show him how he feels.
"Can I kiss you?" Damian asks.
"..What?"
"Can I kiss you?" Damian repeats, a little more impatiently.
"I-- yeah, sure."
Damian takes a quick deep breath, then leans in, pressing their lips together. Danny's free hand comes up to cradle his cheek, but then it moves to the back of his head as they deepen their kiss.
Danny pulls away first, and Damian, with a blush, trails after him, then pulls away too. "Fuck," Danny mutters. "I don't think that project is gonna get done today."
Damian shakes his head. "No, I do not think so either." He cracks a small smile, looking down at their hands again, letting his own finally slip into Danny's open palm. He looks up at Danny through his lashes, and finds him staring adoringly back, a soft smile on his face. "You are very attractive," Damian admits, flushing.
Danny lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Have you seen yourself?" He shakes his head. "Had the worst bisexual panic of my life the first time I saw you."
Damian huffs. "I have been panicking every time I see you. Therefore I win." He looks down at Danny's still-exposed scar. "You kept reacting when I touched it. Is it hurting you?"
Danny's eyes widen a little. "No, no, its just, ah, sensitive to ectoplasmic signatures. Like.." His eyes bounce around as he tries to come up with an explanation. "It.. feels things kind of more intensely. I could already feel your signature, but when you touch me there, it's.. louder?"
"I see.." Damian's eyes land, embarrassingly, on the part of the scar that stretches up Danny's neck and jaw. He wants to put his mouth on it.
"You're a terror, you know that?" Danny asks teasingly. He gently tilts Damian's head back before they're kissing again, more fervently than last time. His eyes slide closed. Danny's lips are soft, albeit a little chapped. Danny parts his lips, opening Damian's mouth too, and slipping in his tongue. Damian isn't quite sure what to think of it; he's never kissed anyone before, never even wanted to. He breaks away to gasp for breath, and Danny smiles sheepishly when he opens his eyes.
Damian can't resist anymore, and goes for Danny's neck, earning a hitched breath and a strangled groan. He presses light kisses against the soft skin at first, but then he accidentally scrapes with his teeth and Danny whimpers, the hands still on the back of his head twitching in his hair. Damian does it again, more intentionally, and Danny's mouth falls open as he bites him. He leaves only a small indent of his canines, then moves up to just under Danny's jaw, where he bites again, finding there even more sensitive as he outwardly groans, and this time, he leaves a small bruise behind.
"You having fun there?" Danny breathes, and Damian smirks at how debauched he already looks just from that; his lips are glossy and bitten, his pupils blown and eyes half-lidded. Are they more blue than they were a few minutes ago? Damian isn't sure. He probably looks just as much of a mess as Danny does.
He can see his bed in his peripheral vision, and begins pushing Danny gently towards it, ensuring he does not trip over his own feet. Danny looks highly amused as he understands what Damian's trying to say, but Damian can see it in his eyes—and pants—that he wants this too.
Damian knows he is not the best at communicating. He can do it as Robin, sure, but that's work- it's technical, no feelings involved. But.. this is different. This is something he's never done before, something he's always turned his nose up at, something he's always tried to avoid talking about with his family because he was convinced he would never need to know.
He understands, now, why he so easily let Danny in, and all of those annoying smiles Dick would get on his face every time he talked about Danny when he talked about how school was going suddenly click in his brain. He wished Dick had said something, maybe he would've figured it out sooner, been able to figure out what to do with these romantic feelings for Danny before he was in his room, in his bed, underneath him as he sat in his lap, and had to do it on the fly. He was not prepared, and that.. is terrifying.
"You look worried, and that never happens, should I be worried?" Danny asks, already looking extremely worried. Damian takes a sharp breath in, and refocuses on what's happening. He's straddling Danny's lap, in his bed, and Danny has his hands on his hips now, and Damian feels a rush of affection wash through him. He's so attentive, even when Damian is usually unreadable to most people. It's incredibly attractive, apparently.
"Do not be worried," Damian assures, quietly, hands settling on Danny's shoulders, and Danny nods, looking up at him with his wide blue eyes, so full of trust, and determination, and a certain uncanniness that Damian realizes now that he associates with Phantom. "I am merely.. unused to.. being.. close to anybody, in this regard. I am trying to adjust to.. being unable to control the situation due to my lack of knowledge."
Danny smiles mischievously, like they're about to do something they're not supposed to. "I think I can help a little with that one. Let's start with what you do know. Have you ever gotten the talk?"
Damian wrinkles his nose. "Yes. But that.. was always in the case I ended up with a girl."
Danny shrugs. "It's pretty similar, honestly, just slightly different parts." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Have you ever fingered yourself before?"
Damian flushes, and shakes his head. He'd.. he'd wanted to, but hadn't found the courage. He so rarely masturbated in the first place.. and lately, it always seemed to be the thought of Danny to get him off, which ashamed him so thoroughly, he always shut any self-pleasuring down as soon as he possibly could.
"Okay, that's fine. I've done it," Danny admits easily, like they're talking about something at school. Danny bites his lip a little, looking down. "Fuck, I-- I've done imagining it was you, Dami."
Damian's heart stutters a little, and he gets a perfect little vision in his head of Danny, fucking himself on his fingers, and decides he needs to see it in real life. He grabs Danny's chin to make up look up enough he could kiss him again. Danny's hands pull him close, close enough that when he arches just right, he can grind their cocks together. It makes them moan into each others' mouths, and Damian happily does it again, just to hear that sound.
Danny's fingers move to untuck Damian's shirt, then slide up to meet the smooth skin hiding underneath. He sucks in a breath at Danny's cold fingers, giving him goosebumps, but they make him feel electric, and suddenly he understands why people are so eager to touch one another. He starts to unbutton Danny's shirt—who knows where his tie is, Damian hasn't seen it since third period this morning—and then he's pushing it down over his shoulders, exposing his pale chest.
"It's— I.." Danny looks away. Damian doesn't blink at his scars, especially not his very obvious autopsy one.
"Dead brother," Damian breathes out. Danny looks at him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
Danny huffs out a small incredulous laugh. "Right. In that case.." He sets his eyes on Damian's chest, then his gaze playfully flicks upwards. "I believe it's your turn then."
Damian's hands move of their own accord, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt out of habit, just because Danny asked, because Danny wants to see him, and normally he hates when he has to change in front of others, because it comes with stares, with questions, with uncertainty— but Danny has scars too. There's so much genuinity in those eyes, so Damian takes a breath, and lets his shoulders lose their tension.
Danny smiles softly up at him, and helps him out of it. Damian stares, irked, as both of the garments get tossed on the floor carelessly, but then Danny's hands are back on his waist, thumbing at the top of his pants, making his breath catch in his throat. He looks back at his friend. Is he still that? Could they be more?
"Much more important to you than your shirt being on the floor, hm?" Danny asks quietly.
Damian nods. "Yours is on the floor too," he whispers. Danny snorts out a laugh, and Damian smiles, just a little. "But.. yes. This is far more important. You are more important." He grapples for the words. His tongue feels twisted in knots. If he could do this without talking, he would. He has always thought actions speak louder than words. But he knows words are important to Danny, who talks about the things he loves so passionately, who asks about his swords and his family pictures, so he will try. "I.. do not have very many people, outside of my family, who I would so willingly be so open with. You.. are something special, Fenton."
Danny smiles, cheeks full of a pink blush. "Technically not a Fenton anymore. I got disowned, I think." He waves a hand. "Not relevant, sorry. Um, go on."
Damian frowns. "No, I think we should address that. You've been disowned?"
"Well.." Danny tilts his head, looking away from Damian as he thought. "I'll give you three guesses as to where my scar came from," he says, running his fingers down the y-shaped scar with disdain in his eyes. Damian's fingers follow closely behind. "Anyways, I live with my sisters here now, no biggie. Jazz and I moved out, and brought Ellie along, and when our uncle—Ellie's dad, technically, it's complicated—found out what happened, he was happy to help. So we're not completely alone. He's just mayor of Amity, so he can't leave."
Damian hums. "And.. what did happen, exactly?" He asks, softly.
"Oh, y'know, the usual. Dissected by my parents." Danny shrugs. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore, c'mere."
He pulls Damian into an open-mouthed kiss, and in a pause for breath, Damian manages to ask, "How did I never know you live with your sisters?"
Danny smirks up at him, like it's part of a conspiracy. "Because I hid it. Goin' to a rich kid school and they find out the new kid's parents are wack jobs that tried to kill him? Not the best look. So I tried to be normal." He kisses him again, hands wandering. "But I trust you. I guess that's another secret, sorry. I'm not so good at counting, apparently."
Damian smiles against his lips. "That's alright. I've seen your algebra grades, I believe in you." Danny hums. Damian drops his lips to the underside of Danny's jaw, making his breath hitch. "You really are exemplary. You won the science fair. And the robotics competition. You don't even take robotics."
Danny smiles ruefully. "Only because the class was full." His hand lands in the back of Damian's hair. Damian nips gently at his neck, dragging his teeth slowly. Danny groans at the feeling, tilting his head back to let Damian have full access. He takes advantage of it, kissing up the branches of the scar that he could reach, and, in a spot that makes Danny hum low in his throat, he leaves behind a small purpley-red bruise. It's amusing to watch it heal itself.
"What is that look for?" Danny asks.
Damian smirks at him. "I can give you as many of these as I like. They won't last until school tomorrow. Maybe not even until you leave." He thumbs over the mark, already starting to turn a gross yellowish-green at the edges.
Danny licks his lips, looking up at Damian through his long lashes. "Give me as many as you want, then." He looks entirely desperate. Damian presses another kiss against his neck, grazing him with teeth, and Danny shudders.
"So needy," he purrs, copying the tone he's heard Selina use to talk to his father. He doesn't know how to act in this situation, but he can pretend that he does. He's seen enough movies with unexpected sex scenes. All of his siblings have partners, most of which tend to disregard social boundaries and flirt with each other in front of him. Sure, he'll never get the image of his best friend's older brother and his own older brother out of his head, but at least he has some idea of what to do here.
Danny blushes, all the way down to his chest, and up to his ears. He looks beautiful. Damian takes a moment to admire him before pulling him back into a needy, hungry kiss. Fuck. How did he go this long without kissing him? He feels like he's out of oxygen every time they part. He's obsessed. More than obsessed. Addicted.
Danny laughs quietly as Damian pulls away again, only just to lean down to bite his neck. "You're like a fuckin' vampire," he teases. Damian pulls off, tilts his head as he assesses the boy under him.
"You'd still like me if I was," he accuses.
Danny smiles, like he's been caught. "Probably. Come back here. I think you missed a spot."
Damian obeys, pressing his lips against Danny's skin once again, biting another mark into the pale real estate. He uses his canines to trace down the slope of Danny's jugular vein, teasing him as he follows it down to his collar bone, then further, leaving behind more bites as he works his way down his chest.
Damian latches onto Danny's nipple, making him gasp, and arch into his mouth. He whirls his tongue around, nibbling gently. Danny's breath comes out in little huffs, and when Damian pulls away, he falls back against the bed with a half-strangled noise.
Damian places his hands on Danny's waist, feeling as his stomach rises with his off-kilter breathing. Danny watches him watch him, and Damian takes a sick sort of satisfaction from having control over someone knows has supernatural strength. It must show in his face somehow, because Danny smirks, and reaches for him again.
Damian goes, of course, and Danny's hands find the button on Damian's school pants as they kiss.
Damian needs air, unfortunately, and Danny takes the moment and inch of room between their panting mouths to tell him, "I'm still in charge. You just think you are because you're topping."
Damian licks his lips. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't know what you're doing, and I do, so I'm in charge even though you're on top, pretty boy," Danny says. He tugs the back and then the front of Damian's pants and underwear down far enough that they stay underneath his ass, exposing him to the cool bedroom air with a surprised hiss from Damian. Danny raises a brow. "So don't get all cocky with me."
Damian's lips twitch in amusement. A hand slides down Danny's stomach, to the front of his pants, close but not quite to his obvious buldge. "Mm-hm. Awfully confident for a boy who was falling apart just a minute ago from me biting him."
"You took advantage of a weak spot," Danny accuses teasingly. "But I can do that too." He spits into his hand and wraps it around Damian, making him let out a breathy groan. Danny carefully strokes him, using the precum his tip leaks to further lubricate it for now. Damian's breath hitches in his throat as his thumb swipes over the tip, and Danny smiles. "You like that, Dames?"
Damian whimpers out something affirmative. His eyes are half-lidded and arms shaking. "Danny," he breathes, "need you."
"I know, I know," Danny murmurs back. Damian whines pathetically when Danny's hand leaves him. He feels so out of sorts as Danny takes him apart like this, and he barely even has to try. Danny's teasing smile has him blushing and ducking his head, trying to hide his face. "No, look at me, Damian," Danny tells him. Damian looks. "I need to prep. Do you wanna help, or do you wanna watch?"
Damian tries to think through the horny sludge in his brain. "Help. Please."
"Okay. Do you have any lube? It's gonna make this a lot easier."
Damian nods, pointing to his nightstand. "Drawer. False bottom."
Danny raises his eyebrows. "..Huh." Danny sits up to reach over, pulling the drawer out. He fiddles with the bottom until he can pull it up, the contents of the normal drawer sliding to the back as he does so. "Hm. Handy." He pulls out the flat bottle, the shape of it strategically chosen for the hiding spot.
"My family is made of the worlds greatest detectives, which means they love to snoop," Damian snorts, lucidity returning in the pause of their activities. Danny places the drawer bottom back, and closes it. "So I deduced that merely putting it in the drawer would allow it to be found, which was what I wanted to avoid. Any findings past that point of things that should not be found is entirely on them."
Danny laughs a little. "Your family is so strange. I love it." He shakes his head. "Okay. Are you ready for this?"
Damian nods, and settles between Danny's legs, helping him out of the bottom half of his clothes. Damian's eyes rove over the new expanse of skin, hands landing on his thighs. Danny's breath hitches as his fingers drag up his thighs, and he exhales as they slide back down again.
Danny's thighs are so soft under Damian's fingers, not at all the firm muscle or tone one would expect from a vigilante. He loves it. His mouth waters with the urge to claim the pale canvases set out for him, and he's just about to do it when Danny thrusts the bottle of lube at him, diverting his attention.
"Be good," Danny says. Damian blinks. "Stay focused."
Damian nods, and takes the bottle. His eyes drag themselves down to where Danny's erection stands at half-mast, then lower, to his goal, where the pucker of a tight hole is waiting for him.
Damian gets some lube onto his fingers, spreading it between three of them for now, and sets the bottle aside.
"Ready?" Damian asks gently, looking up at Danny's face. He looks for any sign of hesitation. Danny smiles, and there is none.
"Go ahead."
Damian, with the most careful of a touch he's ever had, begins to press his finger into Danny, at first watching himself to ensure it went in, and then watching Danny. His face screws up with ectasy as Damian pushes along, and his fingers twist in Damian's soon to be ruined bedsheets.
"You feel so good, Dami," Danny whispers, and Damian bottoms out his index finger. He sounds almost pained, but he looks pleased, so Damian takes it in stride.
He begins to slowly pump in and out with that one finger, trying to relax Danny's muscles enough to get his second finger inside of him. Danny's demanding more before Damian thinks he's ready for it, but Danny knows his body, so Damian presses in another finger and relishes in the whine that he lets out because of it.
Damian rubs a soothing thumb across Danny's thigh as his two fingers work their way in and out of Danny, spreading out just enough to stretch him, but hopefully not hurt. He looks so beautiful, all flushed and overwhelmed. Damian curls his fingers just right, and Danny cries out, clenching around him and arching his back off the bed.
"Damian," Danny pants, "please, I need more."
Damian obeys, adding a third finger carefully. It goes in with little struggle, but Danny scrunches his face in a new way, and Damian stills.
"Are you alright?" Damian asks, concerned.
"I'm okay," Danny assures him. Damian purses his lips, but doesn't argue. "Just.. gimme a minute." Danny reaches to grasp Damian's hand on his thigh like he's drowning.
When Danny can relax again, and gives Damian the go-ahead, he begins his careful thrusting routine again. He's methodical about it, careful to prepare Danny as well as he possibly can. He wants no roadblocks as soon as he takes the next step.
"You're so cute, Damian," Danny says, thumb swiping over his knuckles. Damian glances up at him, confused. "You're so caring, and-" he gasps as Damian curls his fingers again. "-fuck, Dames. I need you in me already."
Damian smiles a little. "That's not what you were going to say."
Danny swats at his arm. "And you need to fuck me before I make you, you brat." Danny groans a little as Damian scissors his fingers back and forth, eyes falling closed. "Damian."
Damian pulls his fingers out, feeling strangely chastized. He takes a moment to shimmy out of his pants and they join the rest of their clothes on the floor with little fanfare, only an appreciative ogle from Danny.
Damian hesitates before he does anything else, and looks to Danny for guidance.
"C'mon, baby, stroke it for me, I wanna see," Danny encourages.
Damian takes himself into his hand, using the lube he'd collected from prepping Danny to stroke himself, putting on a show as much as he could as he kneels between Danny's legs. He mostly feels desperate to touch Danny again, either bite his neck or his thighs, gods, his thighs— or to sink into what he knows will likely be the best first sexual experience a boy could ever ask for.
Danny seems entirely content, however, to watch him jerk off, even as he gets increasingly more desperate, and he looks pleadingly up to Danny.
Danny smirks a little. "Beg for me, Dami."
Damian's mouth is ahead of his brain, and it pours out words before he realizes, "please, can I? Please, Danny, I need you."
"Can you what, baby?" Danny prompts.
Damian's lips tremble. "Please, can I fuck you," he mumbles, flushing.
"Yes, you may," Danny replies, like Damian's being a petulant child, begging for an extra piece of candy. He feels humiliated, he feels demeaned, he feels so aroused that his cheeks may burn off from embarrassment.
Damian lines himself up against Danny's hole, gaping and waiting just for him. Damian looks up to Danny for permission one more time, and waits for a little nod before slowly sinking in, groaning at the feeling of Danny around him.
"Feel so good, so good," Damian mumbles, feeling ridiculous for losing his composure, but Danny looks just as blissful as he feels. He bottoms out, hips flush against Danny's.
Danny clenches around Damian, making him suck in a sharp breath. He stays there patiently, waiting for more instructions.
When Danny's ready, he squeezes Damian's hand. "Okay, Dames, move please," he requests.
Damian pulls out slowly, making Danny's eyelashes flutter as he pants. He pushes back in, and draws out a pretty groan. In and out, and in and out he goes, over and over, until he's worked himself up to a faster pace, and Danny's got his hand over his mouth to try to smother the noises he's making.
It's heavenly— Damian can't think of any other word to describe Danny as their bodies fit together so perfectly. They're messy and sweaty and sticky, and Damian hates everything about that, but he's so overwhelmed by the rush of feeling Danny around him, under him, clutching onto him, talking into his ear, that he can push it off to the side for now.
Danny's always been on the cooler side, body temperature-wise, and Damian feels it in the hands that scratch down his back now that usually only brush against his palms when they hand each other things at school, and he's observed it from the way he's always wearing a jacket or hoodie of some sort, even as the weather's starting to get warm.
But being inside him, pounding, thrusting, pistoning into him like it's the last thing he'll do– he's so hot. The walls that squeeze around him in response to the nips at Danny's neck are hot and wet, and slick, and Damian has never, ever understood the appeal of sex until right now. He pants into Danny's flushed skin, and regrets not being brave enough to kiss him sooner.
Heat pools low in Damian's stomach as he edges closer and closer to an orgasm, until he's spilling out inside of Danny. It's embarrassing, at least to him, that he came first— somewhere in his mind, a switch had flipped, and all he wanted was Danny to feel good, and he couldn't feel good if Damian was done too soon.
Even still, Danny's voice coaches him through it gently, "Good, baby, you're doing so good, come on, cum for me, Dami," and Damian's seeing stars the entire time.
He's soft and overstimulated and too sensitive when he feels like he can focus on Danny again, and he feels bad that Danny's still hard in front of him.
Something must show on his face because Danny frowns, and asks, "Are you okay, baby, what's wrong?"
Damian whines, feeling too overwhelmed suddenly by the stickiness and sweat and heat to form any real words, and starts to pull out. It grates on his senses, and he's relieved when he's fully out, even if Danny hums in disappointment. His cum leaks out of Danny's hole, and Damian uses his fingers to stuff it back inside, making him suck in a breath and let out a little moan.
Damian scoots back so he can lay his head on Danny's thigh, pushing it down flat, and Danny props the other up to give him some more room. Damian pumps his fingers in and out as best as he could, trying to find the sweet spot.
Damian's mouth falls open slightly as he relaxes, and he takes the chance to nip at the inside of Danny's thigh.
Danny's hand finds Damian's hair as he groans a little, gripping his head tightly. "You're a menace," he breathes.
"You don't seem to be complaining," Damian teases, raising his brows. Danny pulls on his hair, tilting his head back forcefully. Damian's breath catches in his throat, nearly quivering with how much more of that side of Danny he wants to see.
"Behave," Danny reminds him. Damian swallows. "Come on, be a good boy and use your mouth for me, since you're so eager."
Damian lets Danny guide his head right where it belongs, to the tip of his erection. Damian opens his lips obediently, and meets Danny's gaze with a kind of submissiveness he didn't know he had in him. All of his orders on the field are less submissive, and more chain-of-command. If his Father is not there, he defers to his siblings. If his siblings are not there, he defers to any allies, if any. Then to himself. But he is not in the field. He is in bed, and there is only Danny, who is in charge, and Damian willingly lets him move him as he pleases, because his body belongs to Danny in this moment just as much as it belongs to himself now.
He takes Danny easily into his mouth, and years of practice at pushing back a gag reflex because of well-aimed hits to the stomach is what is able to get him down his throat. He's prideful of this discovered transferrable ability, especially as Danny's hand tightens in his hair, and his hips threaten to push off the bed of their own accord.
At the same time as all of this, Damian's fingers inside of Danny do not stop their persistent pistoning. Danny's arching off the bed, groaning into the back of his bent wrist and likely pushing the edge of overstimulation, and Damian feels proud that he can service him so well after finishing too early himself.
Damian swirls his tongue around Danny's tip when he pauses with it mostly out of his mouth to take a breath, and every time, he can feel it make Danny clench around him. He could do this forever. He never wants to stop. But by now, Danny's babbling to him;
"So close, Dames, so close, keep going, hng—"
And Damian relishes in the satisfaction he gets when Danny cums in his mouth, even if it tastes a little gross and the texture makes him gag finally. He swallows it despite himself just for the delicious look that crosses Danny's face.
Damian pulls his mouth off of him, and then slowly pulls his fingers out. Danny looks entirely fucked out, forehead shiny with sweat and eyes drooping.
"Fuck, Dami, so good for me," he mumbles, and he reaches for him. "C'mere."
Damian looks at the mess between them. "I.. should clean us up first."
Danny pouts. "Party-pooper."
Damian raises a brow. "You're dripping on my sheets, Danny."
Danny grins. "You're cute." Damian rolls his eyes fondly and starts to climb off the bed, stretching as he goes. Is it silly to be shy now about his lack of clothes? He's never just.. existed naked in the same room as someone before. Danny catches his wrist before he gets too far. "Hey."
"Hm?"
"Get that look off your face, dummy," he chides gently. Damian schools his features into something neutral. He doesn't even know what it was before. "No- that's— Nevermind. I just meant that it's just you and me here. You don't have to get nervous again. Just get somethin' wet we can use to clean up real quick and come back to bed. How long 'til your dad's home?"
"Um.." Damian blinks. He glances at his alarm clock. "A few hours still."
Danny smiles softly. "Perfect." He lets go of Damian's wrist, and he feels completely untethered. "So hurry and come back."
Damian nods. He finds a washcloth to dampen, and washes off his hand in the sink while he's there. He returns to Danny and helps wipe him down, not missing the hisses he gets when he gets too close to his used hole, but he's still dripping enough that he simply is quick and whispers apologies.
"Maybe we should just shower," Damian suggests quietly, when the washcloth isn't as efficient as he would like, and now they're both sticky again. It's doing more harm than good, and mostly just spreading the lube around at this point.
Danny grins. "Are you trying to make a move on me, Wayne?"
Damian snorts, incredulously. "Yes, actually. Move you to the shower."
"Okay, fine. But if Alfred asks why the hell you were showering when you had someome over, that's your own fault."
Damian shrugs. "Then I'll tell him the truth." He helps Danny get unsteadily to his feet. "He is.. less a butler, and more of a grandfather to us. It is an unspoken thing. He will not care. I'm sure he'll care more that he has another pair of sheets to wash than anything."
Danny snorts as they enter the bathroom. He opens the toilet lid to sit there while Damian fiddles with the shower. Once they get in, Danny happily finds the shampoo to scrub into Damian's hair. Damian copies him, gently massaging the suds into Danny's scalp. Damian hands him the conditioner when they have the shampoo all rinsed out, and then they wash their bodies.
Damian shuts off the water and starts to reach for the towels, but Danny takes his hand.
"I've got a cool trick," he says, and then turns them both intangible for just a moment. The water falls to the shower floor around them, and Damian stares at him in awe. Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, and pushes him out of the shower.
"Would you like to borrow clothes?" Damian asks hesitantly as they leave the steam-warmed bathroom.
"Sure," Danny replies, and Damian gives him a t-shirt of a band he sort of knows that Jason had given him (read: he'd stolen) and a pair of soft black pants that he usually wears on weekends he spends lounging around the manor. "You don't seem the type to like midwest emo."
Damian looks up, halfway into his own pair of pants. "What is 'midwest emo?' And- no. That was my older brother's." He gets his other leg through.
Danny nods. "It's a genre of music," he replies, nudging him as they headed back towards the bed. "I'm from the midwest. I like midwest emo. Funny coincidence."
Damian shakes his head. "You will have to come back when my siblings are here. They will like you."
Danny raises his brows as they clamber onto the mattress, trying to avoid being in the wet spot from their previous activity. Damian hesitates to get close at first, but Danny has no such qualms, and so he just accepts the way Danny tucks himself into Damian's side. "So does that mean you're keeping me, then?"
"What?" Damian asks. "That was always the plan. Regardless of.." He gestures to the bed. "I.. always intended to keep you, I promise." He presses a kiss to Danny's forehead. Danny smiles against his shoulder.
"Good." Danny tilts his face upwards, and Damian presses another kiss to his lips. "My sisters will wanna meet you too. They know I've been crushing on you for.. ever. So."
Damian nods. "I expected that. The- ah- meeting your sisters." He blushes at the thought of Danny telling them about him.
Danny smiles softly, raising a hand to cup Damian's cheek. His thumb strokes his cheekbone, and he pulls him back in.