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Dick can think of several mistakes he’s made throughout his life leading up to this moment. The first--the most damning--was agreeing to become the King’s ward. The second through sixth was daring to care for his kingdom and his father. The seventh and most recent was stopping to help a lost maiden through the woods.
“Why is it always witches?” he grumbles as he makes his way through the bustling streets of Robinsville. He remembers it being far less crowded when he’d passed through the city on Bruce’s yearly tour of the kingdom. Or perhaps the guards' presence had been enough to maintain order. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that he is helplessly lost.
Sidestepping a child pickpocket, he pauses in front of a guard station maintained by a lovely female knight. The swirling taint of magic in his gut tugs slightly, an ache in his lower pelvis where the witch had grazed him as he’d run from her cottage after rejecting her advances.
Loneliness of the flesh, he sighs, waiting to catch the pretty knight’s eye. Why is it always a death spell?
“Excuse me, miss,” Dick smiles, valiantly ignoring the flush of his cheeks. “Where can I find the theatre?”
She sizes him up and raises an eyebrow in smug disbelief. He knows he looks poor. Weeks of travel have left him worn and his non-descript clothing had been carefully chosen to avoid giving away his station. Still, he doesn’t know what he’s done to gain her mistrust.
“If you’re lookin’ for the ‘theatre,’ I’d be heading west towards the high tower.” She points to a large clock tower that can be seen above the rows of shops and houses to his left. “Can’t go wrong.”
He has a feeling they’ve misunderstood each other somehow, but it’s sufficient for now. Zatanna has never been one to hide her presence. She’ll know how to fix this and, if the witch’s words are to be believed, might even be willing to help him out with this little problem he’s stumbled into.
Heading west towards the clocktower, he can feel the swirl of magic twisting and turning, tugging him forward. He’ll take it as a good sign. He’s on the right track. A few more hours and he’ll finally be rid of this taint and he will be able to continue his quest.
Jason… the thought is abrupt and sobering. He thinks of Bruce, hidden away in their castle, curtains drawn shut to keep out the sun. The family wing, so empty to begin with, now echoing with the memory of his lost little brother. There are too many stories about the journey to the underworld, too many failures. But Dick has one chance and a goal to reach the Edge of Night by the winter solstice. He will bring his brother home.
He has time. This little obstacle shouldn’t derail him too much. There are months until the winter solstice. I won’t fail Jason again.
So lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice where his feet have carried him until he smells the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. Blinking slowly he takes in the change of scenery. Beautiful men and women in thin garments line the front of various shops. Someone calls to him with a gesture of her fan, inviting him in. The crowd has thinned and is now made up mostly of men who seem eager to enter the various storefronts with a woman or two on his arm.
The Pleasure District.
He has a sinking feeling the guard really misunderstood him.
Okay… I’ll just ask someone else. Zatanna is nearby. He’ll be fine. Letting his feet carry him forward, he turns his head this way and that, looking for another guard station or a friendly (but not too friendly) Madames hawking their “wares.” It's probably the only reason he notices him .
The sudden tug in his gut is enough to make him trip over his own two feet as he comes to a sudden stop. The man is beautiful like most of the people standing as living advertisements for their establishment. But there is something unique about him… familiar?
He can’t be more than twenty summers old, with a young boyish face with just enough leanness to imply the sharp features he is still growing into. His long black hair is pleated neatly and draped over his shoulder. A deep crimson tunic, cinched at the waist with a leather belt studded in bronze, hangs just past his hips, its sleeves rolled to the elbow to reveal lean, muscular forearms. His lack of adornments stand in sharp contrast to the other men and women lining the street. In his hands a bowl filled with something fragrant and floral. The heavy scent of perfume and pipe smoke drifts lazily past him in the warm evening air, leading wandering eyes to the heavy stone archway leading into the brothel behind him.
Dick takes a deep breath when icy blue eyes meet his own. The tug turns into a pull and he finds himself moving forward. Zatanna is nearby. She must be. The answer to his issue lies, perhaps, just a few streets over. But he could no more rip his eyes from this beautiful man than he could capture the sun.
When Dick is standing just a few inches too close to be polite, the man smiles, demure. He looks up at Dick through long eyelashes, play acting at coy, as his eyes read sharp and inquisitive. “Can I interest you in a night at The Nightingale’s Nest?”
Dick should ask for directions. He should be smarter than this. “Can I spend that night with you?” he asks instead.
The man’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, a soft flush on his cheeks. A whore rarely blushes and Dick is struck by the oddity. Is he playing a virgin? There is no need. Just looking at him, Dick can only assume he is very, very popular.
“If that would be your preference, I am more than happy to oblige.” His voice is soothing, a distinct accent to the curl of his r’s that Dick doesn’t have the state of mind to deduce.
Instead he lets the beautiful stranger lead him inside. There is an older woman at the front desk. They exchange words and Dick pays with money he doesn’t have to spare. But he has committed himself to making foolish mistakes the minute he followed the man inside.
“What is your name?” Dick asks, leaning forward to catch a wisp of lavender and rosemary on his neck.
The flush grows as he opens the door. “Timothy. I prefer to be called Tim.”
“Tim,” Dick echoes, pushing him into the room. It is small. Just enough room for a full bed, an arm chair and space for a bathing tub to be brought up. Tastefully decorated in muted browns and greens. The star is the bed, covered in plush pillows and two layers of embroidered blankets. It has been a long time since Dick has laid in a proper bed and he thinks, briefly, of his rooms in the castle before the thought slips from his mind like water through cupped fingers as the lust spreads through his body.
“Would you like help undressing?” Tim offers, slipping his belt from his waist. The crimson tunic hangs decadently over his shoulders.
“Please,” Dick accepts. Anything to get this stranger’s hands on his person as soon as possible.
Part of Dick expects it to be mechanical. This is a whore. He doubts he is the first customer of the night nor the last. He has only paid for a few hours of Tim’s time. But Tim takes his time disrobing Dick, taking care to remove his belts and layers, folding each item on the low table on the side of the door. His hands linger as they uncover flesh, nails dragging lightly along Dick’s skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. Dick finds himself entranced by those hands. Calloused and, yet, soft. Not the hands of a laborer.
He catches Tim’s hand in his own as he goes to unbutton his pants, finds himself gazing questioningly at the constellation of scars on his palm before letting it go.
Tim sinks to his knees as he removes Dick’s pants, his breath hot through the thin layer of his undergarments. Dick wants to join him on his knees and capture those plush looking lips against his own, to push him to the floor and bite bruises into his neck. He presses his nails into his palm and sighs, deep and slow, fighting for control as his cock hardens.
The pleased smile on Tim’s lips is too tempting. He leans forward and nuzzles the base of Dick’s cock with his nose. His breath. His scent. Dick screws his eyes shut and breaths through his mouth. The magic swirls just under his skin and he wonders, briefly, if Tim is truly this beautiful or if he is losing his mind.
“Any requests?” Tim asks as he licks teasingly at the fabric separating them.
“N-no,” Dick hisses. He feels like a teenager catching his first glances of bare skin: off footed and hopelessly aroused. “What do you enjoy?”
It’s a stupid question to ask a whore. But Dick feels stupid. He feels like his brain has leaked down his spine and settled into his cock so he can only think with one head. And that head desires nothing more than to see Tim moaning in bliss between those plush looking pillows.
As gentle as he can, he places a hand against Tim’s head and presses those lips firmly against his cock, heart pounding. The lace of his under garments is pulled aside and finally, finally, he can feel Tim against his skin. The cloth pools awkwardly around his ankles. He should let go, take a step back. He should take a moment to orient, to calm his beating heart.
But Tim’s touch feels so soothing against his skin. How had he not realized how hot it was until he finally gained relief?
Tim licks sweet kitten licks at the base of his cock, nose nuzzling against his pubs. His tongue is warm and wet and Dick gasps. His jaw clenches, swallowing hard. His hands grasp tightly in Tim’s hair before he breathes, forcing his fingers loose. He wants but he wants Tim to be comfortable. He forces himself to step back and gain some much needed space even as his skin buzzes with the need to be touched.
The spell is so much more powerful now. The witch hadn’t mentioned a timeline. He had been fine on the three day journey here. But from the moment he’d spotted Tim standing in that doorway…
“You didn’t answer my question,” Dick murmurs as he pulls the last piece of fabric off him. It feels a little odd to be the only one bare. He reaches a hand out, drawing Tim up and close so he can wrap his fingers around those forearms. “Is there anything you’d like to do?”
Tim’s pupils are wide. His cheeks are flushed a cute cherry red. His lips are so pink. Some kind of makeup, just something subtle to not pull away from the masculine beauty of his jaw, the strong slope of his shoulders. Dick wants to see more.
He pushes Tim just far enough away to slip his fingers under his crimson tunic. The skin beneath his hands is soft, smooth. He draws the fabric up and off, revealing acres of soft pale skin, the dips and valleys of his muscles. So pale… A farm boy should be sun damaged, should show off a sparkling of freckles on the shoulder or patches of tanned skin. Tim is a milky white as if he’d enjoyed the luxury of time indoors.
It would register as odd if Dick had the presence of mind to worry.
“I want to make your dreams come true,” Tim smiles up at him from long lashes, eyes sparkling with some hidden mirth. It should read as corny, a well used line for foolish clients. But there is something endearing about Tim, something cute and achingly authentic. As if Dick were with a lover for the first time instead of paying for intimacy.
He wants to take his time with Tim, to draw the sweetest noises from gasping lips as they make love. He wants to throw Tim on the bed, force him still and close as he rips screaming from bruised lips, as he fucks into him like an animal.
Dick can feel the steady grasp on his conscious start to waver.
He licks his lips and unbuttons Tim’s pants.
He isn’t wearing underwear.
He feels something snap. With barely controlled strength, Dick shoves Tim onto the bed beneath him. The other man doesn’t fight. Instead, he stretches, fingers twisting into the sheets as his legs fall open invitingly.
“Dick.” he whispers as Dick climbs over him, bracketing him against the pillows to tug Tim into a searing kiss.
When did he tell Tim his name?
It's not a sweet kiss. It’s not a kiss you give someone you’re making love to for the first time. It’s a kiss defined by need, by desire. Dick licks his way into Tim’s mouth, forcing his jaw open so he can suck on his tongue, slides his hands down his chest to grasp too hard at the dip below his hips. He pulls Tim close, drags their cocks against each other just to feel Tim shudder beneath him, a soft gasp drawing up from his throat.
Responsive.
Cute.
He feels fingers sink into thick dark hair, tugging lightly and then firmer as Dick hums his appreciation. Pulling away to bite lightly at Tim’s lips before leaving a trail of kisses along the edge of his jaw and down to the hollow of his throat. He feels the way Tim’s pulse harmers against his lips and sucks an appreciative bruise into the skin.
Tim’s fingers slip lower, tightening against his neck to press Dick firmer into his skin as the other drags nails along his back, stretching to grasp at his ass.
He feels hot, too hot. The only relief is the press of Tim’s skin against his own, the sound of his breathy gasps in his ear, the sting of fingernails against his skin. He needs more. He wants more.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Dick promises with a kiss to the third bruise he’s worked into Tim’s neck. Certainly there must be a rule about marks but he doesn’t have the space to care and Tim seems eager to oblige from the way his voice rises with each bite. He draws back to admire his handiwork, the way warm mave stands in sharp contrast to the pearl of Tim’s skin. “Gods above, I need to fuck you.”
Tim moans in agreement as their cocks rut helplessly against each other.
There is a fire beneath his skin, a churning of magic that he is helpless to resist. He doesn’t know what face he’s making but Tim flushes, throwing an arm across his face to hide the cool blue of his eyes. Unacceptable . He grabs Tim’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. “You’re beautiful,” Dick breathes.
Dick has the overwhelming urge to kiss him. So he does. By the time Tim breaks their kiss, he’s gasping for air like he’d forgotten he needed to breathe.
“I want to suck your cock,” Tim blurts out. It’s jarring, out of place with the suave yet naive character Tim has played so far. But all the more adorable for its raw desire. The flush that darkens Tim’s cheeks doesn’t hurt either.
Smirking, Dick tips to the side, letting himself fall against the pillows just to drag Tim on top of him. “Well if you insist…”
Tim’s giggles, shifting to center himself more firmly on Dick’s thighs. He leans down to press a few chaste kisses on his lips before dragging his tongue down Dick’s neck, taking a moment to pepper soft kisses along his collarbone.
For Dick’s part he is content to languish against the pillows, to bask in the single-minded attention of a heart-stoppingly gorgeous man. He isn’t a saint. He’s enjoyed the touch of others more than once in life. But there is something about Tim… something familiar… The fire under his skin licks at his self-control and he moans, weak and helpless, as Tim’s mouth trails lines of ice down his skin, painful and pleasurable and soothing as the fire grows hotter.
Well… No one can fault him for his indulgences.
He jerks when Tim’s lips finally wrap around the tip of his cock, that wet warmth searing into his skin as clever fingers grasp his balls delicately and a hand wraps around his base to keep the rest of him warm. He forces his eyes open to take in the sight of Tim on his knees before him, his ass wiggling cutely in the air as he slips kiss-bruised lips down the length of his cock.
Fuck… he’s close. He wants to blame the magic, the forced celibacy. But maybe it’s just Tim and his wonderful fingers and his beautiful mouth.
He tosses his head back and moans, reaching down to slip fingers into raven black locks. He forces Tim closer, shivers as the muffled moan reverberates down his cock. He waits for Tim to protest, to tap out or force his hand off. When nothing comes, he grins, wicked and self-satisfied, and grips harder to force Tim still as he fucks up into that welcome warm mouth.
He loses time. He loses sense. There is only his pleasure and the wet grunts and muffled moans that slip through Tim’s stretched lips as he uses his whore. There is a small part of him that demands he be gentle, to give Tim time to breath. But it is buried away under the sight of Tim’s hand slipping down to grasp at his own cock, fucking himself to the sensation of being used.
He cums with a gasp, air forced out of his lungs as his muscles lock up, and he thrusts up, keeping Tim in place, forcing him to swallow so he can feel that sweet throat work expertly around his length. God what lips… made for fucking, made for kissing.
When he feels like he can see past the spots in his eyes, he drags Tim up for a hurried kissing, licking in to taste himself on Tim’s tongue. Going cross-eyed to take in the flush of Tim’s cheeks, the bruised pink of his lips. Tim moans, fingers scrambling to find purchase on his chest as he manhandles him onto his back.
“Oil,” Dick hisses, already feeling his cock hardening. Usually impossible but he supposes he has magic to thank in this instant.
Tim gestures weakly to the side table in the corner. A bottle of oil is placed on the side beside a bowl of condoms. Dick knows he should wrap himself up. Tim is a whore and a skilled one at that. But this is not the nicest establishment.
(He has a wild thought that Tim ought to apply for a higher position before that thought gives way to the ache in his balls.)
He reaches for the oil and wets his fingers. It smells of rosemary.
“I’ve prepared myself,” Tim calls out, twisting as if to clamber to his knees before Dick stops him with a hard shove from his clean hand.
“I want to see your face,” Dick explains, wrapping his oiled hand around his cock, slicking himself up. In a better state of mind, he would check to ensure Tim is prepped enough. Now he is just grateful that he does not have to wait too long to bury himself inside.
Slipping Tim’s legs--long, pale with a pink scar wrapping up from his left knee to the mid of his thigh, distinct--around his waist, he grasps himself and pauses just long enough to meet Tim’s eyes.
Tim smiles and nods.
It is delectable. It is heavenly. It is a cool glass of water on a hot day. It is the feeling of clean sheets at the end of a hard day's work. He groans as he bullies his way in, feeling the give of Tim’s soft flesh, the way his muscles contract before, with a deep breath, falling loose enough for Dick slip inside until his balls are flush with Tim’s ass.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
Tim answers with a mewl, hands reaching up to pull Dick close.
Dick goes easily, enjoying the feeling of Tim’s legs locking around his back, the sensation of closeness as their chests touch.
“Big,” Tim mumbles into his shoulder, wiggling to get more comfortable as he grips Dick closer. His nails dig welcome indents in his back. It doesn’t sound like empty praise--too real, too honest. And Dick is forced to reconsider how experienced Tim is for just a second before his lust gets the better of him.
Dick snaps his hips forward, pushing in with a hard thrust just to feel Tim curl in his arms, sweat-slick hands grasping tight at his back.
“Dick!” Tim gasps. But Dick is no longer capable of reason. The pace he sets is cruel, maniacal. He had never truly considered the difference between fucking and loving. But now he knows. Now he fucks into Tim with a wild abandon, licking at Tim’s kneck as Tim throws his head back in pleasure. Treasuring the screams and sobs he wrenches from those pretty pink lips.
At some point Tim starts to twitch in his arms, body clenching and unclenching as his orgasm draws nearer. Dick shifts, slipping a hand between them to wrap around Tim’s neglected cock, squeezing in time with his thrusts. He knows he’s won when Tim squeezes his eyes shut, mouth opening in a perfect ‘o’. Pretty. So pretty. Everything about Tim is too pretty.
He feels the cum splatter between their bodies and lifts his fingers to suck them clean, relishing in the pleasure he’s brought Tim. The taste… Oh, the taste… He moans. The fire of magic and lust breaks and he falls forward to smash his mouth against Tim’s, cuming into that sweet, hot passage.
His heart is beating too fast. His legs shake. He wants to lie down and sleep. He wants to pull Tim into his arms and kiss him stupid. But his cock jerks, hardening again. He curses, filthy and punch-drunk.
“Again?” Dick asks, licking an apology along Tim’s lips. “Can I go again?”
Tim flexes his legs, opening so beautifully around him. “Of course.”
He presses a wet kiss on Tim’s shoulder in thanks and starts again.
He sets a steady rhythm, exhaustion pulling at his limbs as his cock and the magic urge him forward. His hips slapping against Tim’s firm ass, a steady rocking of the bed so the headboard thuds weakly against the wall. It is wetter than before, smoother, as dribbles of cum and oil seep out between them, making a mess of the sheets.
Tim whimpers, weakly beneath him. His eyes are half-lidded slits of icy blue, peering up at him through dark eyelashes.
Dick kisses his forehead, then two on each eye before he lure Tim into a slow kiss, nibbling gently on his bottom lip. He luxuriates in the feeling of their breath mingling, the sound of wet skin against wet skin as sweat drips down his back.
The spell breaks as his hips stutter to a stop, cock pumping thick strips of cum inside.
He collapses under his own exhaustion, just barely twisting to avoid crushing Tim beneath him. His cock slips out with a wet pop and Tim pants, legs twitching weakly from the sensation. He should get up and call for a bath. He does not know how much time he has left. He doubts it is much.
Instead he gathers Tim in his arms, uncaring for the wet spot beneath them, the cum crusted on his skin. He presses another kiss on Tim’s lips and enjoys the smell of sex and lavender and rosemary.
“Wake me when I need to go,” he asks, pulling Tim close against his chest, nuzzling into sweat-damp hair. He will rest and then leave. Certainly there is enough time for that.
He feels Tim hum against his skin, wrapping long limbs around his chest.
Together they rest.
.
The sun pulls him from his sleep.
The curtains are open just enough to let a slit of sunshine spill into the room, bathing it in a warm dim glow. It takes him a second to recognize where he is, another to place the sensation of weight against his shoulders.
Tim, curled against his side with his back turned. His ass cozily nestled against his cock.
Dick feels a spark of lust and realizes in awe there is no magic at play this time. It is just Tim. Beautiful, lovely, handsome Tim.
The covers are drawn over them. Tim most likely had pulled them up as he slept. It leaves them wrapped in a warm cocoon, cut off from the real world. The dim sunlight only adds to the sensation of timelessness as Dick trails sleep-warm hands along Tim’s side.
Tim shivers lightly in his sleep, ass pressing firmer against his hardening cock.
Gently, he begins to rut against Tim’s ass, pressing a firm hand against Tim’s chest to push him nearer so he can press a kiss against his shoulder.
“Mmm…” Tim mumbles, hand curling over his own. His braid is undone, the tie having loosened at some point in the night. It spills between them, raven black locks tousled artfully by sex and sleep. A picture of pleasure. “Ah… D-Dick?”
“Good morning,” Dick whispers, pressing another kiss against sleep-warm skin. He feels… content. For the first time in a long time, since his brother’s death, since he set out on his quest… He feels safe.
He pulls back as Tim turns in his arms. Still so pretty. His lips are no longer as pink, the makeup having rubbed away. But all the more pretty for it as they curl into a pleased smile. “Good morning,” Tim whispers back.
He kisses Tim because he can, because he wants to. There is no magic driving him now. Just the knowledge of a handsome pretty man in his arms. He tightens his hold as he pulls back. Eyes opening to find Tim already looking at him in amusement.
“You know,” he starts, tangling their legs together. “I never told you my name.”
He should have expected the way Tim stiffens in his arms, the flash of fear as he tries to pull away. But Dick has no intention of letting him go now that he knows, now that he has enough presence of mind to put the pieces together. “Shhh,” he smiles, petting Tim’s side as if trying to soothe a startled foal. “I don’t mind. I’m grateful in fact.”
Tim eyes him warily, settling uneasily in his arms. His hands turn into fists against his chest, pushing slightly as if he was still trying to get leverage to flee.
“I was under a lust spell when we met.” Dick explains, leaning forward to kiss Tim’s cheek. He savors the feeling of Tim twitch in his arms before drawing back to look into his eyes once again. “A witch cursed me to die of loneliness of the flesh."
“Are you…” Tim starts.
“No,” Dick reassures. “Not anymore. You see there are only two cures to this spell. The first is to find a magic user to lift it. I was on my way to meet Zatanna when I stumbled upon your establishment. The second…”
He lets the silence linger here, enjoying the way Tim’s nose wrinkles in confusion. He can almost see the cogs turning behind those beautiful blue eyes.
“The second?” Tim prompts when his patience fails him.
“To find someone who loves me,” Dick smirks, savoring the flush of embarrassment on Tim’s cheeks. “Ah yes… now you see.”
Tim is no longer looking at him, staring valiantly to the side, even as his muscles relax against him.
“So now you know why I am here,” Dick teases. “And I only have one more question for you. What is the Duke of Drake doing this far north?”
There is another moment of silence. One Dick is willing to patiently wait out as he slips his hand to the small of Tim’s back, drawing patterns against the swell of his ass before dipping lower. Tim gasps lightly as his fingers press softly against his hole.
“Dick, I--” Tim cuts off with a moan. He is still so open, so sensitive. Dick slips just a bit of a finger inside to tease before pulling out. He can feel Tim’s cock swelling against his thigh. “I can’t..”
“If I reach for the oil will you run away?”
Tim shakes his head, eyes screwed shut.
The oil is just as fragrant as he remembers and he takes the time to coat his fingers liberty before slipping back into place. He presses another soft kiss on Tim’s lips before toying at his rim. “I can wait, Sweetheart. But I won’t fuck you until I have an answer.”
Tim whines against his lips, back arching as if he could force Dick’s fingers inside as his hands paw at his chest. “That’s cheating…”
“Maybe,” Dick admits with a smirk, slipping a finger, enjoying the way Tim clenches around him. “But it’s honest. Why are you here, Sweetheart?”
“I can’t…” Tim bites his lips, looking up at Dick. “I can’t, please. No one can-”
“You love me,” Dick bites his ear before licking the shell with the flat of his tongue. Tim shakes in his arms, leaning forward to hide against his chest. His body is so sensitive, so sweet, under his hands. “Let me help you, Tim. Trust me.”
Dick twists his wrists just so as he slips a second finger inside. The angle is awkward. There isn’t enough space for all the ways he’d like to take Tim apart. But he feels the way Tim ruts helplessly against his thigh and thinks he can’t be doing too poorly.
“Please,” Tim whimpers. “I… My father…”
“Your father,” Dick prompts.
“A cure for his sleeping sickness,” Tim gasps against him, pressing closer. “I’m traveling to the--ah! The underwor- Dick, please!”
“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. You’re being so good,” Dick says as he searches for that spot that will make Tim sing. “Just a little more.”
“I’m traveling to the underworld for a cure,” Tim rushes to finish, body going taught as Dick slips a third finger inside, “And I needed the money.”
Dick slips his fingers out, trying not to smirk as Tim whines.
“Good boy,” he praises as he pushes Tim onto his knees, slipping behind him so he can admire his ass. He presses a kiss or five to each cheek, relishing the way Tim shakes under his lips. “You did so good for me. Now I want to reward you.”
His cock is hard and heavy against his stomach. He slips three fingers back inside and curls his fingers, smirking as Tim jerks under his hands, mouth falling open in a low moan.
“It’s all a bit of luck isn’t it?” Dick says conversationally, as if he were merely greeting an acquaintance on the road instead of fingering the most beautiful man he’s ever met in his life. “I’m traveling to the underworld too.”
He spreads his fingers, pushing in deeper. Tim starts to sob, thighs shaking. Poor thing. He must be so oversensitive from last night. How sweet he is to give himself so completely to Dick.
“Dick!”
“We should go together,” Dick suggests, even though he has no intention of taking a no for an answer. Tim might try to fight him but Dick has plans, filthy lovely plans. He pulls his fingers out and pets Tim’s ass.
“I-”
“No worries, Sweetheart.” Dick slips inside once again, savoring the sensation of Tim around him. Oh yes… he has no plans of ever letting this man go. “I look forward to falling in love with you.”