#tim and babs are going to be delighted if they meet this kid

[sun-spice]

The Batman is standing in shadows of Tucker's living room, the fucking Batman is in his living room.

"So, as I've described, while the materials, the safeguards, the slightly magical components, and the design of the computing hardware and interface all pose a challenge, the biggest problem that I've noticed is in people not understanding what the box even does. Yes, it's portal tech, but not like the other stuff the department studies."

"I've been seeing that people tend to assume that you've got point A, some kind of in-between state, and then point B. When in reality it's more like point A, B, C and with liminal states between each plane."

Tucker is lecturing the Batman in his living room at three in the morning. What is his life?

Tucker gestures to the hastily drawn diagram on his whiteboard, the caped crusader observing stoically.

"Here, you've got Apokolips." He points to the square on the right with the angry parademon-esque creature doodled with all the artistic skill of an average six-year-old child. "Here, you've got our dimension." For this square he had wisely given up and just labelled it 'us'. "And see this bit in between? That's the Realms. They make up the space between pretty much all other dimensions."

These sad squiggles probably aren't the best attempt at conveying multidimensional theory he could come up with, but Tucker is currently running on the Devil's Combo: sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and an invitation to infodump.

The posturing and thinly veiled threats were probably intended as coercion, but he was still riding on the high of figuring out alien tech. If he was a little too enthusiastic who was there to rib him about it? The Bat himself, who's been indulging him for going on an hour now? Pff.

"Now, the motherbox functions by punching across the realms to get to the target dimension. This why it has a function to generate a long protective tunnel to act as a bridge, a feature which is pretty unique to the box, and pretty ingenious actually. It's coded to follow the seams of the Realms and not enter them proper. Carving a path of the least environmental resistance."

If the Apokoliptions had tried to punch through the occupied spaces themselves they would've been blocked by more than just the environment, but he had decided to be purposefully vague about the Realms' denizens.

"Other existing portal tech tends to be more like windows or doorways. It's like jumping over a stream as opposed to trying to cross a river. You need much more than just a wooden plank for the latter."

Batman is silent for a long few moments, seemingly content to let Tucker stew in his own awkwardness. Rude.

"You are already familiar with other portal tech." Batman muses.

Well, it's not like the Justice League knew nothing about Amity Park's situation with all the communications they had tried at the beginning the the ghost attacks, right? And the Fenton portal hadn't been operational in years. Though, at this point the veil was thin and the town itself liminal enough that Amity was still very much haunted. Just much more subtly.

Tucker shrugs. "Not massively, but in the town I grew up there were these engineers, and don't get me they were freaking brilliant, but also absolutely batshit... Uh, no offense. Anyway, they managed to make a portal to the Realms, it was a whole mess for years."

"Elaborate."

On second thought, seeing the look on the Batman's face, perhaps Tucker Foley had fucked up.

Short DPXDC Prompts #557

Bruce is doing his damndest to figure out how a motherbox works. It’s simply too complex and far beyond current human technology for it to be understood. Wait- did someone just say that a new engineering hire just reverse engineered a motherbox?!

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: I - Injuries

Summary: When an offhand comment gets made about who receives the most injuries a big debate takes place to discuss this. Unable to agree on anything, the Bats decide to keep score of who gets the most injuries over the next 12 months. The results may surprise you. 

Enjoy! :D

The blissful silence within his apartment is rudely interrupted by the shrill of his phone suddenly ringing inside his pocket. Jason groans. Five minutes. Why couldn’t he just get five minutes of peace? Was that so much to ask for?

Cursing every god imaginable, Jason digs through his pocket until he finds and receives the device before scowling upon seeing the caller ID. Answering the call, he brings it up to his ear and doesn’t hesitate to snap a greeting, making it clear he isn’t pleased about being disturbed. “What do you want?”

“So there’s been a situation…” a hesitant voice speaks up on the other side of the phone.

Jason reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. That sentence alone is enough to start giving him a headache.

“How the fuck is there a situation? I left you guys not even fifteen minutes ago! I thought you were heading back to the cave?”

“Yeah, we were, but on the way back we heard gun shots and we found a gang fight happening. We intervened but while fighting Nightwing unfortunately got stabbed.”

Being told his brother has been stabbed makes Jason pause. There’s a remark on the end of his tongue that desperately wants to slip out but he doesn’t know if this is the right time for it. The tone of voice on the other side of the line makes it difficult to determine how serious the situation is.

“How bad is it?”

“Oh not that bad!” Tim chirps, Jason could now hear the amusement lacing his tone. “It’s just a stab wound on the thigh, more of a scratch than anything. Won’t need stitches or nothing. I figured I’d ring you to let you know because this now changes the board.”

Jason breathes out a long sigh and feels the tension leave his body. At least it’s not life threatening. This fucking family, he swears to God, if he hadn’t already been sent to an early grave he certainly would be now.

“So it’s enough to warrant a mark on the board?” Jason questions eagerly, already knowing what impact the answer will have. Now he knows it’s not serious he can think about other things.

“Oh yeah definitely.” Tim claims and Jason could easily hear the smile in his voice. “Even when it happened he muttered a curse and mentioned how it’s unfair because that now puts you ahead of him.”

At that Jason cackles. He bids his brother a goodbye before hanging up. Still laughing Jason moves through his apartment to his kitchen, digging through one of the draws he pulls out a large whiteboard and makes the needed changes to it.

This is something they all came up with at the start of the year from an offhand comment about who gets the most/least injuries out of their family. The comment triggered off a big debate and the result of it was to keep score of who gets the most injuries in the next 12 months.

They do not count life threatening injuries, because believe it or not they are not assholes and it wouldn’t be fair or even funny. Any minor injury can count (or at least minor for them). Any injuries done outside of the costume also count.

There are only a couple months left of the year but it’s currently pretty tight between most of them. Surprisingly Steph is winning with the least number of injuries so far. Following her, again surprisingly, is Damian. After him is Harper, Duke, Tim and then Jason. With his new injury today that puts Dick in last place, officially making Jason second to last. They hadn’t included Cass because firstly she didn’t want to be involved and secondly anytime she does get injured, which is extremely rare, it’s usually serious, so they collectively decided to not have Cass participate. Babs wasn’t interested and made it very clear on what her opinions of the competition was.

Before the new injury, Jason and Dick were in joint last place. His older brother now sustaining a new non-life-threatening injury changes the board. Jason couldn’t be happier, now he just has to make sure to not get injured at all in the next couple of months.

That in itself will be a challenge, but one not to be beaten easily Jason is up for it. He doesn’t care where he comes on the board, just as long as he beats Dick that’s all that matters.

---------

Like most of the year, the last few months fly by and before Jason knows it, it’s New Year’s Eve and he’s attending a party with all of his friends and family.

While the party is being hosted at Wayne Manor, so somewhere familiar, there’s tension in the air which can be felt no matter where you go. To most it’s probably the anticipation of midnight approaching, that excitement that comes along with the clock striking twelve and the supposedly start of something new.

To Jason, however, it’s a count down until the results are revealed.

Jason has a vague idea of what the final results are going to be, after all he kept track of everything himself. Then again, it’s vague because he’s been away on a mission for the last three weeks only having gotten back two days ago. He hasn’t yet had a chance to catch up with everything that may have happened in those weeks he had been gone. For all he knows the board may have changed significantly and he wouldn’t have a clue.

Not long before midnight, Jason soon finds himself in the library with his siblings and friends. They’re scattered around the room sitting on the sofas and the floor with the news on in the background.

Cass stands front and center with a white board in hand ready to announce the results of who has sustained the least and the greatest number of injuries in the past year. They asked Cass to announce it as she hadn’t taken part, that way it’s fair and not biased.

Looking around the room Jason could see a variety of facial expression on his siblings faces. Some wearing smirks, like they know exactly what the results are, while other’s wear an expression of anticipation, clearly unsure on where they’ve come on the board.

Cass announces the names in ascending order, starting with last place first. To Jason’s absolute delight, Dick is in last place. He’s so happy to hear that he had beaten his brother in getting less injuries than him in a year. Dick simply sends Cass a tight smile and nod, obviously knowing he had lost before anything was declared.

After Dick is Jason. If he’s being honest, Jason is actually happier about that than the principle of being second to last, he beat Dick and that’s all that mattered. He certainly made sure Dick was aware of his delight.

After Jason is Duke, followed by Steph which was a surprise considering she had been in first for a really long time. Apparently she had a bad couple of months, reckless behaviour and stupid mistakes eventually added to her total therefore dropping her down the leader board.

Taking third place is Damian. Jason looks over at where he’s sat and he finds the kid fuming, clearly unhappy with his final position. In second place is Tim, which seems to surprise almost everyone, including Tim himself. The teenager sits on the sofa looking completely baffled but thrilled at the news. That finally leaves Harper taking first place as the person to have the least number of injuries in the past year. She jumps up to her feet yelling with joy and dancing around the room excitedly.

After the scores are announced Cass gives out little awards just as something extra which makes it all the more entertaining.

The most out-of-costume injuries award goes to Tim, who instantly claims that most of his injuries are because his best friends are meta’s and because he skateboards. No one believes the excuses however they don’t call him out on it.

The most ridiculous injury goes to Dick, who then explains how he got said injury. Apparently he miscalculated a jump when chasing someone and ended up scraping his side on a metal bin. Everyone stares at him after that story, wondering how such an experienced vigilante and acrobat even does that.

The most badass injury goes to Steph. She had gotten into a fist fight in the middle of the mall after some guys started shouting out vulgar language. Not taking any of their shit Steph beat them all to a pulp but not without taking some collateral damage herself. That award felt well deserved though it could have gone to someone else.

After wrapping up their competition they all decide to stay in the library and chill. They cheer for the new year when the clock strikes twelve and all exchange “happy new year’s.” They don’t go adventuring out to the party again which inevitably leads to Bruce hunting for them, out of worry or suspicion Jason’s not sure but when his adoptive father eventually walks into the library he’s met with a loud chorus of greetings

Bruce studies the group with narrowed eyes in suspicion. He meets each of their gazes before straightening up and leveling them all a glare.

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen any of you in a few hours only to find you all gathered in here, not fighting may I add. What have you done?”

Dick’s the first to respond. Being the oldest of the group he probably feels inclined to, especially when no one else offers up an explanation. “Wow Bruce, give us a benefit of the doubt would you, we’re simply enjoying being with one another for a change. New year and all that. Who knows, this may the start of something new.”

Bruce’s disbelieving expression conveys perfectly what he thinks of that explanation.

The room falls silent as they all stare at one another. Gestures and nods are shared between them as they try to get someone else to speak up but everyone stays silent, no one saying a peep. They never told Bruce about the competition; they really don’t know how the man would take the news but they’re all certain it wouldn’t be taken well. He definitely wouldn’t see the funny side of the whole thing, even if they explain the rules to it and how they’re not actually assholes and wouldn’t include life threatening wounds to the count.

In the end it doesn’t matter because eventually Bruce puts his hands up and shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Whatever it is just keep it to yourselves and if you make a mess, clean it up. The less I know the better.”

With no more words Bruce turns around and leaves the room. For several moments after the man’s sudden departure they each exchange baffled looks, silently questioning what just happened. It stays like that for a while until several members of the family simultaneously shrug. The action causes an eruption of laughter and all of them end up cackling until they couldn’t breathe and had tears running down their faces.

[msephy]

Upbringing chap 8/?

And here is chapter 8 :)

There should be 13 or 14 chapters in total.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

Speeding through Gotham alongside Bruce was all kinds of wrong. First of all because if felt right. Of course. Damnit, and damn him, and damn the original him, and… Fuck.

Now wasn’t the time to think about how fucked up Jason’s life was. Now was the time to find a lost Robin. Or Damian. Or whatever name he used.

“Nothing on the North side, either,” Dick (Robin) (this was going to be confusing) said in his ear.

He’d received his own earpiece right after jumping into his gear, Dick slipping it to him as he accompanied them to the Batmobile, explaining he’d use the cameras to help them out.

His gear had been washed. Not the armor, but the clothes. Nobody had touched the weapons. His guns were still there.

This whole thing was confusing.

“Thank you, Robin,” Bruce answered, his voice tight, without even slowing down. Of course he wouldn’t.

“What his codename?” Jason asked, mostly to distract himself from the worry churning at his belly. Probably for nothing, too. Damian was though, his own remarks notwithstanding.

“Who? Robin?”

“Obviously not, I heard that one. I meant the kid. Younger kid. Whatever.”

“Ah. Shadow.”

“Of fucking course,” Jason grumbled. “At least it’s not a bird.”

“I tried to make him chose Crow, but it’s already taken,” Dick babbled in his ear, his good humor hiding badly is own worry. “Or Blackbird. Or Nightbird.” Jason snorted. “Or Starling. He threw a fit at that one. Or…”

The enumeration stopped abruptly. Jason and Bruce froze in a same movement. “Robin?” Bruce called, ordered. Jason felt his spine straightened.

“Not Damian,” Dick said. “I mean Shadow. But I spotted something.”

“Elaborate.”

“Please,” Jason mocked. Bruce glared at him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Dick was saying. “But I think it was Talia.”

Jason swore. Then swore again when he saw Bruce relax. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s bad news.”

“She wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said with the assurance of the unaware.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’ll obey Ra’s, whatever the cost.” Jason argued. Then he frowned. “What she can do is find a loophole and make sure things go the way she wants them to anyway. She’ll obey the letter of his words, not the meaning.”

“You think she showed herself on purpose.”

“I think that no camera would have caught her if she hadn’t meant it to.”

“But what could Ra’s possibly want from Damian?” Bruce exclaimed. He’d never sounded so much younger than his counterpart.

Jason shrugged. “The same he’s wanted from the start. I mean. Why else would he have allowed Talia to keep him? If he didn’t order her to have him to start with.”

Bruce winced visibly despite the cowl. Looked like it was a sore point.

“Anyway, we’d better find out if Ra’s is around before he possesses Damian or something.”

“Ra’s wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said pointedly.

Jason stared. But he seemed to mean it. “Are you a moron?” Jason asked, unbelieving. “Ra’s is a criminal. Him not behaving as destructively as the Joker doesn’t give him a pass. You of all people should know that!”

And Jason couldn’t believe he was the one who had to say it. God knew how often he’d secretly hoped Bruce would give him a pass. But no, no, that was reserved for beautiful, dangerous women.

Jason inspired, trying to calm down. “Besides,” he managed. “I wasn’t pulling that out of my ass, that’s what Ra’s actually tried to pull off, in our world. I don’t have the details, only as much as Drake told me.”

“More birds?” Dick whispered, Jason assumed, in his ear only, because Bruce didn’t snap back at him. It really wasn’t a good time. Yet the joke loosened something inside Jason; something bad, that had been growing since the morning and which retreated suddenly in the depths of his feelings.

Jason relaxed. Bruce, on the other hand, was so wired you could have broken stone on him.

“Where did you see her?” he finally asked Dick.

“The Bowery, next to the flower shop.”

Bruce fired his line and Jason followed. It was too early for the Demon Head to want Damian’s body. No?

Please let it be too early.

###

Earth 1 – Jason Wayne

Jason got out of the shower feeling invigorated. They hadn’t made a full patrol, just half, allegedly to discharge Bruce a bit. The only thing Jason didn’t know was if Dick had taken the patrol as excuse to observe him, or if he’d observed him as excuse to actually discharge Bruce a bit.

Either way, they’d had fun without tiring themselves so much.

Jason sat down at the computer and started updating the files, checking on the latest updates from GCPD and some information sent by Oracle.

“Who is this Oracle? They’re amazing,” Jason said absentmindedly when he heard Dick get out of his own shower.

“Bruce allows you to use the batcomputer? I wouldn’t have expected him to.”

“I didn’t really give him the choice. Checking what I do will take him less time than doing it himself. I log all the details, to make sure of it.”

Dick snorted, sitting on the table. Jason raised his eyebrows. Dick made a face. “You’re not Alfred.”

“He’s old and cleaning after you boys all the time.”

“I’m not getting anything dirty! Also, you are barely older than me.”

“Still older.”

“Jackass.”

“Love you too.” Jason blinked. “I mean,” he laughed. “We barely know each other. But clearly, we both have siblings.”

“Clearly,” Dick echoed. Then he sighed.

“He’ll be back,” Jason assured him. “I don’t intend to stay here and I’m pretty sure your Bruce wouldn’t leave one of his sons in another world, even the prodigal one.”

“How is your world? Is he going to be alright?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s pretty much similar to this one. Very nice way to guilt me into giving you intel, by the way.” Dick grinned. Jason smiled. “In any case,” he continued. “I think my Gotham is a bit better off than yours, but there are still dangerous people out there. Bruce – my brother I mean – won’t let your Jason get hurt, though.”

Dick darkened. It looked like his Bruce had let his Jason get hurt. It happened, in this kind of life. Jason would rather not know the details.

“So, Oracle?” Jason asked to distract him. “Who are they?”

“Oh.” Dick blinked. “It’s Barbara. She doesn’t help, in your world?”

“In my world, she’s busy studying law and determined to become a cop. Can’t say that Jim is delighted, but I think he’s secretly proud.”

“A cop? Babs?” Dick seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “I guess I always thought she had too much of a tendency to find trouble to follow that path.”

“Oh, she still does. She kicked Luthor in the balls once.”

“And she survived?” Dick marveled.

Jason grinned dreamily at the memory. “She was pretending to be drunk at the time. He had to let it slide.”

“Oh god, I wished I’d been there.”

“It was very satisfying,” Jason confirmed, smiling broadly. “Especially since, you know, we had an informal meeting right after. I plucked some of Lex’s feathers. He was very offended. And had a hard time sitting.”

“You do business with Luthor?”

Jason shrugged. “We’re mainly competitors but his R&D department does have some significant advancements that we can’t ignore. Mostly it’s not with LexCorp directly but one of his subsidiaries. He does own a lot of them. Isn’t it the same here?”

“I guess so. Clark is the one who handles him, mostly.”

“But in regard to WayneEnt?”

“You’ll have to ask Tim,” Dick shrugged. “He’s the brain of the operation. I merely show up on galas or support one specific project from time to time but handling the day to day of a business that huge? That’s not for me.”

“No, I guess it’s not,” Jason said, thinking about how the younger Dick from his world struggled to even learn to sit down for classes for more than an hour.

“You’re thinking of who to throw to the wolves in your own world?” Nightwing laughed.

“I doubt it will be you. Damian, maybe, if he settles when growing up.”

“Is Bruce the one with all the kids?”

“I didn’t think accepting Talia’s offer would be a good idea,” Jason smiled, before realizing it was a mistake. Nightwing’s head titled slightly. Ah, well. It didn’t really matter, if someone from another world knew about his bitterness.

“She seduced you both?”

“We seduced her back. We went to train to the League together, Bruce and I, or rather,” Jason laughed, “I refused to let Bruce leave by himself. To be honest, I loved it.”

“And Talia, too.”

“It doesn’t matter much. She wasn’t going to leave her life for either of us, and neither would we. It was a moot point.”

“Mhm. Sounds like I’m not the only one who should take more care of myself.”

Jason sighed. “I guess you aren’t.”

[zahri-melitor]

Figured I might pop some of folks' propaganda in on the reblog, given everyone's excited comments.

Batman: #however i had to go with batman because of tim following both batman and robin so closely #that being said my metric for tim's childhood is tim before he became robin/actually knew these people#and tim did have a very rosy view of bruce/batman before he actually got to know the man lol#and once he got to know him i feel like blue beetle went from third place to second#and batman went from second to almost last from scintillyyy

Bruce is a straight forward pick. Tim saw him at the circus. Tim followed him around and declared Batman needed a Robin. Obvious.

Blue Beetle: #ted kord is compelling because i'm pretty sure tim said he had a lunchbox or something from scintillyyy

Tim's canonically enough of a Ted Kord fanboy that on the prospect of getting to meet him he shoved Dick Grayson in the back room of the Clock Tower. Tell me how many other heroes meet that level of devotion from Tim (aside from the one he just shoved out of the room).

Tony Hawk: the "I love Tim as a skateboarder" pick. The Obvious Skateboarder option for a 90s kid.

Green Day: #green day sweep#listen he was a teenager in the 90s who later came out as bisexual. green day is the right choice from broke-bruce-wayne

Green Day is one of the bands Tim's most associated with in terms of wearing band shirts and having posters up. Plus all those delightful parallels up above. (Also ask Scintillyyy about Tim's cherry red Gibson Les Paul guitar)

The DMV for giving Tim a licence at 14: #Compelling arguments all around but I had to go with the dmv because he is a car enthusiast from havendance

Tim Drake, gearhead. I would like to remind everyone that Tim got his licence in 'Tec #668, a moment when Bruce's back was broken, Jack Drake had been kidnapped, JPV had strangled Tim and locked him out of the Cave, Dick had turned up only to complain that JPV was Batman instead of him, and still Tim's first reaction to his new licence was heart eyes and taking the Redbird out for its first drive. Also after naming his car the Redbird Tim proceeded to use that as his pseudonym and email address on the internal Bat servers. It is impossible to overstate how much Tim loves his car.

The Grey Ghost: look maybe you're into DCAU parallels with Bruce over fictional detectives. You've all actually convinced me I should have put Crocky here instead. I apologise.

Other: Mostly people voting this seem to be supporting Crocky, so here's some Crocky the Crocodile propaganda - he's a parody of Barney. Tim watched him religiously as a kid. He has an exclusive signed Crocky doll from a mission.

heroesriseandfall also offered Roy Raymond Jr, which is another interesting pick, though I tend to think of him more as Cass' favourite tv detective, not Tim's. (Has anyone written them bonding over Roy Jrs' terrible tv show?) #how about Roy Raymond Jr while we’re at it (nice contrast to Bruce & Babs being Roy Raymond Sr fans as kids)#(I say contrast because Roy Jr was considered the TRASHY terrible successor to Roy Sr lmao. perfect)

Jason technically also fits this category but he's sir not appearing in this poll sorry

Ok so we all know Dick is Tim’s favourite hero, so we should run a second place vote:

[goddamnbatsignal]

Hotline Bling

Pairing: Dd

Words: ~6000

A/N: Um. I haven’t written anything in a very long time. This is rough and I have some issues with the movement but if I don’t post it I don’t know if I ever will so have it (and if anyone sees any serious issues pls tell me!)

Warnings: general rough sex

Summary: In which Damian texts like a teenager, consent is super sexy and there’s some really chatty, rough sex to be had post-patrol

*

Waking is a slow process. The air is cold but the blankets are warm, and he’s ready to let the heaviness in his head overwhelm him, dropping back into unconsciousness. But the phone buzzes again, louder this time, insistent vibrations against the bedside table. He groans, burying his face in the pillows and groping blindly for the cell.

              He doesn’t bother looking at the time. It’s late, or maybe it’s early – some hideous hour where dawn is only a distant promise, with cold air bitter enough to bite through tights and Kevlar. An hour where phone calls are inappropriate between civilized people, but he’s long since made peace with the sort of company he keeps. It could be something urgent, some deadly disaster or new flavour of villain. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it something far more pleasurable than a call to arms on Gotham’s frozen rooftops.

              Dick knows the message is from Damian, knows the start-stop vibration pattern belongs to him. It was Babs’ doing, months ago when Dick’s cell had stuttered and died. She’d gone with him to find a new one, had plucked it from his hands and programmed his top contacts with personal rings, personal tones, personal vibrations – personal everything. Useful, she’d promised, citing an impressive list of practicalities that Dick had been sceptical of at the time. Now, though, head still dull with sleep, he can ready himself for Damian’s particular brand of messaging even before he manages to pluck the phone from the charger.

              The screen is too bright in the darkness, illuminating half the room and making Dick’s eyes ache. He grunts, rubbing a tired hand across his face and squinting blurrily as he clicks into the message. It takes him a moment to focus, blinking at the single word text with wary disbelief.

              Usually, Damian sent texts with a syntax that was terrifyingly teenaged – complex arrangements of letters, numbers and shorthand that Dick had given up trying to decipher weeks ago. The language of the future, Damian had told him once, head pillowed on Dick’s chest and eyes drooping closed. Communication is evolving, Grayson. Try to keep up.

              (Dick actually had tried, briefly. He even managed to convince Tim to translate, which worked well right up to the point they simultaneously realized that Damian’s chatspeak prose was far more graphic than either of them had anticipated. They’d hastily agreed to never mention it again.)

              This message, though, is simple. Too simple, even, and Dick drops his face back into the pillow with a groan. He checks the screen again, cautiously, but nothing changes. One word.

                Awake?

              Dick smothers a yawn with the back of one hand, fumbling the phone into a better grip as he does.  It’s a succinct message, and he thumbs out a response before curling back into the pillows.

              Y?

                Short. Sweet. It’s perfect, Dick thinks, tucking his nose beneath the covers. Could mean ‘yes’, could mean ‘why’. A Damian sort of response, and he’s proud of it even as his eyes drift closed again. He shifts beneath the blankets, finding a more comfortable position even as the phone vibrates again.

                Bbs. If ur nt hrd im fckin u

                            Dick laughs, quick and quiet in the darkness of the room. Missing letters he can understand – a more efficient but still comprehensible message - so he sends a smiley face back before tossing the cell back towards the bedside table and rolling onto his stomach.

              He doesn’t end up on the receiving end very often anymore, not when Damian takes such obvious delight in the act. Dick’s happy regardless, loves the way Damian opens up for him, loves the tight heat of his partner’s body and the hitch in Damian’s throat when he comes all over his perfect stomach. It’s a particular sort of high, he knows, making the Robin shatter to pieces with his touch, and sometimes Dick thinks he’ll never be able to get enough of it.

              Still, even with Damian in his bed (and on his couch, in his shower, in Bruce’s car) every other night, it’s been months since he’s been fucked, months since he’s felt the slow burn of Damian’s cock deep inside him. Dick loves that, too, loves Damian’s hands bruising his hips and his teeth pricking at his skin, loves getting pushed onto the bed and made to forget his name. It’s a different kind of perfect, but it’s perfect none the less.

              Dick smiles against the pillows, carefully extracting himself from the memories. When they first started dating, the promise of pre-dawn post patrol sex would have been enough to have Dick hard and aching in anticipation. It had been a secret, back then, a series of clandestine meetings and longing looks. Even after, when everyone knew, Dick had considered it poor form to be sporting a hard on for his mentor’s kid whenever Damian threw him that shy, sly little smile. It had been a game to Damian, a game of tight pants and yoga stretches, of sinfully intense sparring sessions and touches and greedy, stolen kisses – all under the eyes of Alfred and Bruce, all carried out with the ever-present threat of disembowelment.

Now, though, more than a year into the affair, it’s a slower warmth, a beginning sort of arousal that carries with it the promise of good things to come. And, if he keeps himself from getting carried away, there’s space to breathe through it rather than a desperate need for more immediate completion. He shifts slightly, curling onto his side and bringing the covers up to his chin, protection against the cool night air.

              He doesn’t sleep, although it’s a near thing. He wavers in semi-consciousness, lulled by a distant rumble of thunder and the warm promise of Damian’s presence, a gentle radiating pleasure that has Dick sinking, loose-limbed and pliant, into the mattress.  

              When the window creaks open, he shifts lazily to watch Damian drop onto his floor. It’s a well-rehearsed entrance, and Dick smiles slowly as the Robin stretches back up to latch the shutter into place. When Damian turns to him, he flutters his fingers in greeting.

              “…did you actually fall asleep?” Damian asks softly, taking an uncertain step towards the bed. Dick grins, making a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. There’s a long moment of hesitation, then Damian sighs and shrugs his cape off. “Glad to see my message was so rousing.”

              “You’re awake enough for the both of us,” Dick mumbles back, voice thick and rough with sleep. He shifts, languid and easy, moving to pillow his head on one arm as Damian peels off his uniform. Beneath the black leggings, Damian is already hard and he sheds the last of his clothes with brisk efficiency. Dick huffs out a breath of laugher. “You’re really awake for the both of us.”

              “That much was a given,” Damian says, making a small show of folding his uniform. “You should be more concerned with whether or not you’ll be getting fucked.”

              “Mm, come over here and find out,” Dick offers, flicking the bed covers open and settling back into the pillows. He watches as Damian sighs, pausing to fish his phone from the folds of his costume and tossing it towards the nightstand. “Planning to text in bed?”

              “Perhaps I’ll record your orgasm and set it as my ringtone,” Damian shoots back, soft and sincere, and Dick laughs, reaching out to grab Damian’s wrist and drag him down into a kiss.

              It’s a surprisingly dirty kiss, going from a quick touch of chapped lips to open mouths with teeth and tongue, Damian’s thigh hard between his legs and Dick’s hands twisting in the Robin’s hair. Damian works his hands up and under Dick’s shirt, sliding freezing palms down along his side.

              “Oh my god, that’s cold!” Dick manages, laughing in between short, sharp kisses, squirming as Damian’s fingers track up his ribs. It’s an unexpected attack, the freezing thumbs pressing into soft skin, and Dick arches away from it. “You’re killing me here, babybat!”

              “It’s cold outside,” Damian says, an explanation even as he rubs his palms across Dick’s stomach, grasping for the hem of Dick’s shirt and pulling it up over his head. “Which you would know, if you were out on patrol rather than sleeping.”

              “If I was out on patrol, I wouldn’t be here to help warm you up,” Dick counters. He catches Damian’s hands in his own, trying to rub some heat back into them. Damian huffs, collapsing down onto Dick’s chest. “See, this is much better than both of us freezing.”

              The next kiss is a little slower, and Damian bumps their foreheads together with a soft, loose smile. Dick kisses his nose and the side of his mouth, letting his hands tangle into the Robin’s hair as Damian reaches down into his sweatpants.

              “Glad to see you find me somewhat entertaining,” Damian mumbles, words pressed against his mouth, and Dick clutches at him as firm finger curl around his cock. “I thought perhaps I was losing touch.”

“What, you?” Dick laughs, pressing warm kisses along Damian’s jaw. The grip around him tightens and he moans, hips pressing up into the contact.  “Lube’s in the drawer.”

              “In a hurry?” Damian asks, hot and low against Dick’s neck, fingers dragging along Dick’s length. He whines, choking on Damian’s name when the Robin gives him a sharp twist.  “Maybe I want to take my time.” It’s a hollow threat, and Dick grins up at him.

              “Dami, if you wanted nice and slow,” he starts, breaking off as teeth catch against his throat, pressing enough to make him twitch. “…if you wanted nice and slow, you wouldn’t have messaged me first.” Damian’s eyebrows lift, mouth curving up into a quick smile against his skin.

              “You’re right, I want it rough.” The words are harsh, pressed into the side of Dick’s throat and accompanied by a hard, fast pump of his cock. He groans, tilting his head to let Damian’s teeth catch against him bottom lip. “I want you unprepared. I want you tight and resisting, I want to feel you trying to take it. I want…”

              “Well, shit,” Dick mumbles, sound lost against Damian lips. The Robin pauses, breathes in against his skin, and Dick rubs a thumb over one of his cheekbones before he can pull away. “It’s good, Dami. It’s been a while, yeah? But it’s good, I’m in.”

              “Yeah?” Dick nods, dropping his hands away from Damian’s wide-eyed expression to hook his fingers into the waist of his pants instead. He lifts his hips and pushes them down, whining when Damian lets him go and rolls away. “Hush, Grayson, just getting the lube. Like you said, it’s been a while, and I’m not doing you dry. Not tonight, anyway.” The Robin pauses, leaning in to steal a careful, grateful kiss before turning to dig into the bedside drawer.

              “Promises, promises,” Dick teases as he sits up, kicking his pants off and tossing them away. His cock is hot and heavy, standing up away from his body. He reaches down for himself, runs a thumb along the slit before giving himself a generous stroke. He hums in the back of his throat, reclining back against the pillows and repeating the process as Damian turns back to face him. With a wink, Dick lets his legs fall open and Damian snorts.

              “Show off,” the Robin accuses, and Dick nods, arching his back and quirking an eyebrow when Damian ignores him. “It’s a good thing you’re so pretty, Grayson, otherwise I wouldn’t put up with you.”

              “I dunno, babybat,” Dick gasps, hand working up and down his length properly now. He takes a moment, savours the way Damian’s eyes flick down to his cock, the way his jaw goes a little bit slacker. “There are other qualities of mine I think you rather enjoy.”

              “Enough,” Damian growls, tossing the lube towards the pillow and surging forward. Dick twists to meet him, opens his legs enough for the Robin to settle between high thighs. Damian’s hands fist in his hair, teeth catching at his lips and dragging hard, dirty kisses from his mouth. He hooks a calf around Damian’s waist, pressing them together as he wraps his hands around their combined lengths.

              Damian groans into his mouth, shifting focus and drifting down the curve of his throat. It’s an onslaught of quick, sharp points of contact, marks that will be a hot red in the morning. Visible, too, the first one pressed at the point of his jaw, hard enough to make him jump. He lets his head fall back, hand between them stroking with each pass of the Robin’s teeth.

              They’re both leaking now, a slickness between them that covers Dick’s hand. He jerks up into it, a quick thrust that Damian mimics, hips beginning to roll down into the contact, grinding them together. Dick drops his hand away, grabbing instead at Damian’s hair and pulling the teen back up to his lips.

The kiss is bruising, Damian meeting him half way and driving his hips forward. Dick cries out, sound muffled by the Robin’s tongue, trying to spread his thighs wider when Damian thrusts down again. Desperate, he kicks up into it, legs hooking around Damian’s waist as they grind together. Then, Damian’s hand is down between them, wrapping around Dick’s length and pumping. It’s hard and fast, quick rough strokes that have Dick groaning, hips stuttering and sliding until Damian’s hand shifts, abandoning his length to press against his pelvis, fingernails digging in and holding him still against the mattress. Dick squirms, silently protesting the sudden denial of friction, and Damian huffs against his mouth.

“Grayson, we’re not going to rub off against one another like a pair of teenagers in the back seat of a car,” the Robin growls, leaning in for another kiss. Dick breaks the contact with a snort.

              “You are a teenager!” he laughs, reaching up to rap his knuckles softly against Damian’s forehead. “As for the car, well, we could go see a drive in movie.”

              “Stop talking,” Damian advises, leaning forward to mouth at the underside of Dick’s jaw. Dick sighs, tilting his head back and stroking a thumb over the nape of the Robin’s neck.

              “We could go for a drive in the woods,” he continues quietly, closing his eyes and focusing on the softness of Damian’s lips against his skin, counter point to the harsh grip of his fingers digging into Dick’s hips and the burning heat of his arousal. “Maybe after one of those old horror movies, something that will make you want to cuddle up nice and close.” Damian reaches up to try and cover his mouth, fingertips poking at his lips even as Dick laughs and turns away. “Aw Dami, don’t be like that!”

              “You’re incorrigible,” the Robin huffs out, low and soft against Dick’s skin. His teeth prick against the lines of his collar bone, sharp and insistent, and Dick swallows a groan. “Horror movies don’t frighten me, Grayson. You might need a better plan.”

              “Mm, how about I promise to have you back before your curfew, babybat,” he offers, carding fingers through Damian’s hair, pressing up into the sharp kisses being trailed along his shoulder. “No one would know I’d gotten into your tights - got to keep that sparkling reputation intact.” Damian bites down on his shoulder, a hard nip that has Dick cursing and tugging at the Robin’s hair. “Damian!”

              “Would you just shut up?” the Robin demands, leaning forward to steal a rough kiss. He takes another moment to rub his palm across the bite mark on Dick’s shoulder. “Although,” he adds, rubbing a thumb along Dick’s bottom lip with a slow, careful smile. “We actually should go for a drive sometime.”

              Dick nods, opens his mouth to agree, but Damian moves in and kisses him again, hard and insistent. Dick goes with it, wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck and trying to push their hips together again. Damian’s hands dart out to his hipbones, gripping and pressing him down hard enough to bruise, and Dick melts back into the mattress as the Robin’s attention drifts lower, mouth tracking down the side of his neck and lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

“Mm, that’s good,” he mumbles, sliding his fingers into Damian’s hair and holding, tugging carefully whenever the Robin’s teeth prick a little too sharp against his skin.

              Damian maps out across clavicle, teeth and tongue warm against Dick’s skin, and he presses up into the touch. He tries to push his hips up too, tries to find friction against the hard plains of Damian’s stomach rubbing against him, but the Robin’s hands tighten on his hip, a warning. He ignores it, jerks up again, and Damian bites down on his shoulder.

              “Ouch, Dami!” Damian kisses the spot, reaching over to give Dick’s cock an apologetic tug, rough fingers teasing across the head before wrapping around him and pumping. Dick groans, shifting as Damian trails careful bites across his chest, each one timed with a rough twist of the hand wrapped around him. Dick guides him lower, tugging roughly at the Robin’s hair, and Damian looks up to meet his eyes.

              “Something you want, Grayson?” he asks softly, thumb reaching the tip of Dick’s cock and rubbing circles, sliding sharply across the slit. Dick inhales, swallowing against the sensation even as his hips jump up to the contact, and Damian laughs. “You know, I forget sometimes how easy it is to get you off.”

              “And I always forget how mean you are when you top,” Dick counters, earning himself a sharp nipping kiss as a reward. “Blow me?”

              “Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?” the Robin murmurs, settling himself between Dick’s legs and leaving two chaste kisses against his hip bones. “You do have a pretty cock, Grayson,” he adds, giving him a careful squeeze. Dick grins, reaching down to ruffle Damian’s hair.

              When the teen leans in, Dick drops back to the mattress with a contented sigh. Damian’s mouth is wet and warm, teeth carefully girded as he sucks the head into his mouth. Dick grunts, forces himself to lie still and not thrust up into the warmth.

              Damian inches down slowly, one hand shifting to curl around the base of Dick’s shaft. His fingers squeeze tight before relaxing again, tongue sliding across the slit even as Damian pulls back again. He runs his mouth down one side, pinching at the head with his fingers, and Dick winces.

              “D, you’re so cruel,” he complains, giving a soft grunt of appreciation when Damian drops a kiss to his navel. “C’mon.”

              “Patience is a virtue,” Damian offers, succinct and sly, moving to wrap his mouth back around Dick’s length. There’s a moment of tight pressure, Damian’s checks hollowed around his head, then Dick’s hips stutter up and Damian swallows him down.

              It’s not an easy rhythm. Damian presses down on his hips, regulating each of Dick’s thrusts as his throat works around Dick’s length. Dick whines, tries to push up further into the friction, murmuring absent sounds of appreciation as Damian breathes him in. He closes his eyes, head dropping back down to the pillow as he focuses on the warm lips on his cock, counterpoint to the soft scrape of teeth against his shaft.

              It doesn’t take long for the prickle of pleasure to work it’s away alone his spine, blooming out from the way Damian’s free hand circles the base of his cock, squeezing and releasing in time with each delicate movement of his jaw. Dick groans softly, reaching down to grip haphazardly at the Robin’s hair. Damian makes a sound in the back of his throat, a combination of pleased and surprised, relaxing to let Dick thrust further into his throat.

              “…holy shit, you’re the best,” Dick manages, a quick gasp as Damian’s fingers tighten again around him, firm against his skin.

              He’s preoccupied with Damian’s mouth, preoccupied with the fingers hard around him, and he almost doesn’t notice the cool wetness of lube against him. He squirms, shifts away from the sensation, then there’s the unmistakable feeling of fingertips soothing over his hole. They press in slightly, pushing against resistance before easing back, rubbing carefully over his sensitive skin.

              Dick tenses when they slide in again, deeper this time. He winces, breathes out through his nose, and Damian swallows in more of his cock. Dick gasps, appreciating the distraction, and Damian works the finger in deeper, pulsing it in and out until Dick pushes back onto it.

              The second finger is easier, the stinging stretch more familiar this time. Dick collapses back against the pillows, gasping for air as Damian’s tongue swirls around his head and fingers press up deeper within him.

              The need to come is painful, and he grabs for the back of Damian’s head, tries to press up deeper into his mouth. Damian swallows around him, fingers jabbing up harder inside his body, and Dick’s hips jerk until he’s buried in deep in the teen’s mouth, Damian’s throat tight and wet around him. Damian hums, swallowing sharply even as he scissors his fingers deep in Dick’s body. There’s a shock of discomfort, of being opened too quickly, then Dick’s coming straight down the back of his protégé’s throat. He grabs blindly for the back of Damian’s head, fingers curling and pulling at soft hair even as the Robin’s hand shift to bracket his hips, holding him steady as Damian swallows around him. He half stutters the beginning of an apology, but Damian fixes him with a look that makes him whimper instead, body twitching through the aftershocks.

               Dick drops back against the pillows, boneless and pliant as Damian carefully moves back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth even as Dick huffs out a small laugh.

              “I’m going to write sonnets about your mouth,” Dick manages, gasping for air. Damian collapses down beside him, leans over to kiss his forehead, and Dick opens his eyes with a smile. “No, seriously, Dami. I’ll write you sonnets about the way you suck cock, sonnets and ballads and poetry.” Damian laughs, kisses him once on the mouth, and Dick drags him down for a proper kiss, tasting himself on the Robin’s tongue. His hands search lower, fingers curling around Damian’s leaking erection. “Haiku, songs. Anything you want, Dami.”

              “Anything I want?” Damian mumbles, hips canting up as Dick rubs a thumb over his head. Dick nods, kisses haphazardly at Damian’s jaw. “Let me fuck you. Now, like this.”

              “…not a lot of lube in me, Dami. This where you want to make it hurt?” Dick asks softly, fingers tightening as Damian’s cock jumps in his hand. The Robin nods once, and Dick grins. “Yeah, let’s do it.” Damian kisses him again, long and deep, before pulling out of Dick’s grip and reaching for the lube discarded on the other side of the bed.

              “On your stomach, Grayson,” he instructs over his shoulder, and Dick rolls over, pillowing his head on his arms. “I want to see myself vanishing into that ass of yours.”

              “…I don’t think I can get hard again,” Dick murmurs, stretching to watch as Damian settles in behind him.  Damian pauses, quirking an eyebrow up, and Dick shrugs. “I’m not a teenager anymore, babybat.”

              “We don’t have to,” Damian says, smoothing a hand along the curve of Dick’s ass. “If you would rather, we can wait?”

              “Nah, I want to. Just, don’t take it personally if I can’t get off again.”

              “You will tell me if this is too much,” Damian orders, reaching up to grab a handful of Dick’s hair and shake him. Dick groans, spreading his legs and Damian sighs. “Grayson. Dick. You’ll tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

              “…yeah, D, I’ll let you know if I’m not into it.”

              “Good,” Damian says, soft and smug as he pulls harder on Dick’s hair before pressing his face back down into the pillows. Dick grins, twisting as Damian’s weight presses down on top of him, the Robin’s arm curling around beneath his shoulders and teeth catching against his shoulder. “Deep breaths, Grayson.”

              Dick obeys, swallows against a suddenly dry throat and breathes in. Damian’s thumb slides carefully along his crease, and he breathes out in a rush. He grabs for the arm around him, twining their fingers together and kissing Damian’s palm. Damian hums, giving his hand a tight squeeze, and presses in.

              For a moment, the stretch is gentle. Dick relaxes into it, shuffles back towards the pressure and let’s Damian press his thighs further apart. Then, Damian pushes in a little deeper and Dick flinches away from the sudden burn of pain.

              “…Grayson, it’s really, you’re really…” Damian’s voice is low and breathless, chest pressing against Dick’s back and arm tight around his shoulder. Dick reaches his free hand up to grab at Damian’s hair, and the Robin’s hips jerk forward. It’s a little too deep, and Dick groans, forehead hitting the pillows. “Steady, Dick,” Damian cautions, easing back until he’s barely inside.

              “Mm, less steady, D,” Dick manages, laughing as Damian huffs against his ear. “Let me have it.”

              “Safeword?” Damian demands. Dick groans again. “Say it please.”

              “Oh my god, Damian Wayne, I love you and I love that you want to make sure I’m okay, but my safeword is flapjacks and I swear if you ask me to consent one more time I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

              “Like you could manage that,” Damian returns, and Dick can feel the smile against his shoulder. He starts to say something, a flirty retort, but Damian shushes him softly. “Grayson, keep your tongue inside your mouth. I don’t want you to bite it off.” And with that, he thrusts back in.

              Dick cries out, the force of the movement shoving him roughly against the sheets. There’s a sharp, sliding burn between his legs, and he grabs desperately at Damian’s forearm still wrapped tight around him. There’s a brief respite as Damian pulls back again, and Dick takes a gasping breath before the teen pushes back in, stretch greater than before and the burn pressing deeper into Dick’s stomach.

              “S-shit, D, you always this big?” he manages, laughing breathlessly even as Damian thrusts again.    

“Half way in, Grayson.” Dick swears, arching up as Damian pushes a little deeper. He flinches away from the thrust, trying to press his hips back to the mattress with a soft curse. “Relax. Deep breaths. You’re not a virgin, Grayson, we both know you can take this.”

              “You’re gonna cut me in half,” Dick grits out.

              “And you’re going to lie here and let me,” Damian purrs, hand squeezing around Dick’s throat as his hips push forward with a particularly rough thrust. Dick whines, and Damian drops down into him.

              “Wait, wait!” Dick manages, voice wet. Damian’s fingers tighten around his throat and he whimpers. “G’me a sec, D, just a sec?” He gasps for air, letting himself collapse against the mattress and feeling himself spasm around the length inside him. Damian inches back, and Dick whimpers his relief into the pillow.

              “No.” Dick panics for a moment, tightens his grip on the arm wrapped around him, then Damian’s plunging back into him.

              Dick yells, sound punching out of his chest and bubbling from his throat. Fingers shift to tighten against his mouth and he screams against them, scrabbling to grasp at Damian’s wrist as the teen breathes encouragement against his ear. There’s a long, careful moment of stillness, then Damian pulls out again and Dick collapses back to the mattress with a wet groan. He can feel Damian’s cock nudge against him, blunt head pressing back between his cheeks, and tenses against the intrusion.

              “Grayson, we good?” Damian asks, fingers gentle against his lips. Dick kisses them on instinct, nodding into the pillow. Damian smiles against his neck. “Words, please.”

              “y-yeah, fuck, you’re a bastard,” Dick manages.

              “Only to you,” Damian responds, hips rocking forward. His cock drags along Dick’s ass, catching briefly before sliding away. Dick flinches, breathing through his nose as he tries to relax again. “Okay?”

              “…shit, yeah okay, do it.”

              “Hey,” Damian murmurs, low against his ear. “I love you.” Dick blinks at him, turning his head to try and catch the Robin’s expression, but Damian’s hand plasters back across his mouth and his hips slam forwards. There’s an intense pressure and then a terrible, perfect agony that has Dick thrashing against the sheets, toes curling and tears pouring down his cheeks.

              “Oh, I hate you, I fucking hate you,” Dick chokes, voice muffled by Damian’s fingers and the tears caught in his throat. Damian hums in his ear, a surprisingly ragged sound, then the Robin is thrusting properly into him.

              It’s not comfortable. There’s a steady burn with each movement, a drawn out slide that has Dick sobbing softly into his arms. Damian fists a hand into his hair, pressing him down into the mattress as he finds his rhythm, cock ploughing into Dick’s ass.

              He can feel himself shuddering against the intrusion, each bite of discomfort making his shoulders flinch and twist, pushing wounded noises from his mouth. He knows Damian likes them, can feel the intensity of his thrusts rise to match each sound. He can feel himself sinking into it, each hard push pooling painful heat in his abdomen.

              There’s the sound of wet, overwrought keening in the room, and it takes Dick a long moment to recognize his own wrecked voice, to connect the sound of muffled agony with to the thickness in his throat. He’s rutting into the blankets, trying to put more space between his ass and Damian’s cock, trying to find friction against the fabric instead.

                “Scream for me,” Damian orders, low and dangerous. Dick flinches, sob choking in his throat, and then Damian rams his cock back inside, down to the hilt in one cruel motion. Dick makes a noise, body convulsing with the searing, unexpected hurt even as fingers tighten around his throat. He gasps, tries to make a sound, body coiled tight and vibrating on Damian’s cock. Then, all at once the tension comes apart, the agonizing warmth in his belly making him spasm and cry out, hands grasping for anything to hold onto. He screams, too, a wail that tumbles out of him and catches on Damian’s hand tight across his mouth.

It’s a terrible orgasm, making him writhe beneath Damian’s ministrations. It’s wrung out of him, forced from him, and when it’s done he slumps back to the sheets with a soft sound.

              It takes him a while to come back to himself. Vaguely he’s aware of Damian’s warm weight about him, the arms wrapped around him and the softening cock still inside him. There’s a wetness there, too, a familiar sensation that lets him know Damian came inside him at some point. And still the dull, throbbing agony, his hurting flesh making him shudder and shake.

              Damian murmurs gentle things to him, soft and careful. It’s mostly nonsense, and Dick closes his eyes as the familiar voice washes over him. He shifts a little, wincing, and turns his face back into the linen.

              “…hey, D?” he mumbles into the pillow. Damian’s arm tightens around him, and he gently slides out. Dick hisses, hips flinching away, and Damian’s hand cups around the back of his neck. “Dami?”

              “You okay?” Damian asks softly. “That was...more than I expected…” Dick gives a small hiccupping laugh, sound just on the wrong side of a sob, and Damian’s hand tightens. “Dick, did I…”

              “I’m gonna have to write a sonnet about your cock, too,” Dick manages after a long moment, turning to flash Damian a tired smile. The teen’s hand smooths up over his cheek, thumb pausing briefly over his mouth.

              “You are far too verbose for a man who just got fucked that hard,” Damian complains, dropping down beside him. “I really am losing my edge.”

              “How about we give it half an hour, then you can try to render me silent again?” Dick offers, eyes closed as he cuddles in closer to the Robin.

              “I could wake you up by burying myself back inside you,” Damian counters, and Dick hums softly in amusement.

              “That’s sweet,” He says, letting Damian curl their fingers together. “I’m game if you are.” He presses a sloppy kiss to Damian’s cheek, reaching over to pull the blanket back towards them. “…although, gotta say, if you try to tell me you love me as a distraction again, I might have to hurt you.”

              “Hey, you relaxed when I said it,” Damian defends, smoothing a hand through Dick’s hair. “…you’re good, right?” Dick scoffs, eyes already closed, but Damian jostles him gently. “Dick. I deliberately hurt you. I know you didn’t safeword out, but just…you’re good?”

              “Yeah, D, I’m good,” Dick says softly, pressing a chase kiss to Damian’s mouth. “You’re going to come up with a brilliant excuse for me limping around for the next week, but I’m good.”

              “I’ll do your patrol,” the Robin promises, letting Dick settle back against him.

              “And let me fuck you on the trapeze?” Dick adds. Damian manages to bite off his startled laugh. There’s a long stretch of silence, then Damian shifts beneath him, and Dick grumbles as he buries his head further into the Robin’s shoulder. There’s a long moment of silence, then the soft click of a phone camera. “That better not be of my ass, D.”      

              “Not this time,” Damian murmurs, stroking a hand through Dick’s hair. There’s another click and Dick sighs. “Shh, I want a selfie with you looking fucked out.”

              “…a selfie?” Damian shrugs, and Dick opens his eyes to blink at the Robin. “Do I need to learn how to selfie as well?” Damian laughs, loud in the silence of the room. “What?”

              “Go to sleep, Dick,” the teen advises, tossing the phone away and curling in close. Dick resists for a moment, then sighs and relaxes into the embrace. “I’ll teach you all about it tomorrow.”

*