#dickcest

Nightwing doesn’t stop grinning. “Promises, promises.”

Deathstroke snorts and tosses him aside. Nightwing arranges himself in a graceful sprawl on the bed as Deathstroke takes his place on top of Grayson.

“Give me trouble,” Deathstroke says, “and I’ll take it out on him. You got that?”

Grayson wets his lips, eyes darting from Deathstroke to Nightwing, lying beside him and watching them with a smile. “Something tells me he’d like that.”

“Oh, he can like it,” Deathstroke says in a low voice. “But I can still make it feel like torture.”

Summary: Dick is so so tired of shit happening. A nonstop whirlwind of emotional breakdowns and to top it all off? A heat at the ripe age of 10. Luckily, the Robin AI that snatched him away from Bruce has some compassion in him. - Omega Dick Week: Drugged Heat - (I offer context for Justice Buster stuff in the notes don't worry.)

“Wait a second, why me?” he demanded, pushing himself off the younger boy—maybe it’s because you were straddling him a second ago—to put his hands on his hips and glare viciously at the man nonchalantly stripping out of his shirt.

“Because you’re the one with the biggest stick up your ass,” the—Teen Titans’?—leader remarked, pulling him back onto his lap and sticking his hand down Dick’s pants without further ado. Nightwing gripped his wrist, removing the intrusion and standing up again, frowning down at Di—Robin.

“No, I think that’s you, actually.”

“Nah,” the eldest of them finally spoke up, suddenly directly behind Dick, strong arms—larger than his—encircling his waist as a hot mouth attached itself to his neck. Nightwing barely managed to stop himself from tossing the man over his shoulder, but Dick (other-Dick)—okay this is confusing—felt the muscles coil under his arms anyway. “See what I mean? Can’t even enjoy simple necking without trying to kill someone.” He felt his cheeks burn. “Not that I’m saying he’s not high-strung or clearly in need of a good lay—”

“Hey!” came from Robin, lounging on the mattress as he watched his older counterparts.

“—but we’re not the ones with the weight of the world on our shoulders,” Dick—other Dick—barreled right over him, and then there were fingers on his shoulders, slowly kneading away at the more or less permanent knots that Dick—me—could feel shifting against his spine whenever he tried to lean back in his seat. A constant reminder that he didn’t have time to relax.

You have Gotham, and Bludhaven, he tried to say. A Robin to train.

You have the weight of the cowl on your head.

Robin folded his legs under him, the movement catching Nightwing’s attention.

“We need names for each other.” The older… versions—God this is weird—looked at the youngest in confusion, and Robin shrugged, voice clipped and professional in a way Dick hadn’t heard from himself until only a year ago. This one had been leading a team much longer than him, and better, too, from what he’d heard. “We can’t keep calling each other ‘Dick’. How would you know which one of you I was talking to?”

Nightwing leaned back against other-Dick. Maybe because he was older. Maybe because he was Batman. Maybe because they were the same person. But for whatever reason, Nightwing had a feeling that this counterpart of his could support him and the fate of the world better than a chair.

“You’re right.” Other-Dick rested his chin on Nightwing’s shoulder, and Dick could almost feel him grin. Whether at Nightwing’s compliance or at his own thoughts, Dick would never know. “We know nine languages, boys. Each has at least three words that mean ‘penis’. Pick your language and pick your translation.”

Nightwing and Robin stared at each other, before Dick rolled his eyes and elbowed other-Dick, hard, in the stomach.

“You’re Robin. I’m Nightwing.” He ignored other-Dick’s ‘oof’. “And this one’s Dick, ‘cause he’s a dick.”

Other-Dick could have been Richard, but Nightwing really couldn’t see the classy gentleman he was used to turning into whenever one of Brucie’s galas called for it in him. He seemed more like… Dick, really.

Like he was done letting his identities rule his life, even if he was wearing the suit Nightwing strived to avoid.

“I could be Batman,” other-Dick—no he’s Dick now—proposed.

Nightwing and Robin didn’t even have to exchange glances before chorusing:

“No.”

Dick—no longer other-Dick—pouted.

“Why not?”

“Dude,” Nightwing started.

“Bats is a major boner-kill,” Robin finished.

“Keep him out of our bedroom,” Nightwing raked a hand through his hair. “Especially when we’re about to do…” He gestured vaguely. “This.”

Dick gave both his counterparts an amused smile. “You’re gonna have to get over it sometime. Accept that our daddy dearest is hot—”

“Shut up.” Robin’s words were an order.

“Please shut up.” Nightwing’s were not.

“—and that if you let the Batsuit itself become a turn off for you,” Dick continued jovially. “Then you’re just gonna miss out on some excellent opportunities.”

Robin directed himself to Nightwing now. “Make him shut up.”

“Think about it, if Wally let his uncle’s uniform keep him from getting horny, and I let my dad’s, then how would Batman and Flash ever get a chance to do it in the Batmobile?”

Jesus Christ Nightwing had not needed that image in his mind.

“That’s it,” Robin shot up from the bed, trying to re-spike his back to the weird shape it had been in before Nightwing put his hands to it, walking past the older two. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

Robin froze instantly. Even Nightwing found himself reacting to that voice, shoulders squaring to attention, because as much as he hated it, at the end of the day they were all trained soldiers.

“Robin, please come back here.”

It wasn’t exactly the same, of course (Bruce never said ‘please’). If Nightwing thought about it, which he did instantly, differentiating between Bruce and his older counterpart and realizing that Dick’s voice had yet to grow another ten or twenty years before it could reach Bruce’s low growl, but while Dick had not mastered imitation, he’d mastered tone.

It wasn’t Bruce’s voice, but it was Batman talking to his Robin.

There was a long beat of silence during which Robin hovered by the door, fists quivering at his sides, possibly facing the same terrible realization that Nightwing had encountered when he first learned of Dick’s working alias in his dimension. That no matter how hard they tried to rise from Batman’s shadow, they would never be able to.

Robin finally turned, wry smirk playing at his lips. “Maybe we should call him Batman.”

“Boner kill~” Nightwing declared loudly, and suddenly all three of them were laughing helplessly, Dick grabbing Nightwing for support and Robin doubling over where he stood, clutching his stomach.

Everything was simpler when he was laughing, Nightwing decided a moment later as Dick’s lips found his and warm tongues twisted together, and it wasn’t weird but it wasn’t familiar either, because oh wow now he knew exactly what it was that made people tell him he was a good kisser and, huh, he should probably stop doing that—it tickled more than it was ho-o-oooooh…

“What do I do, just stand here?” Robin piped up from somewhere behind him, and Nightwing and Dick separated with a pop, Dick grinning at him and bending him backwards so he was at Robin’s level, and then it was Dick and Robin kissing above Nightwing as he watched, tongue flicking out to wet all-too dry lips.

Without warning, Robin broke the kiss and leaned in to suck that tongue into his mouth, and Nightwing groaned, slightly disoriented as his brain raced to search for a different taste in Robin’s mouth and finding nothing but what had been in Dick’s.

“All yours,” was the only warning either of them got before Dick dropped Nightwing’s entire weight into Robin’s arms. It was pure luck that the bed was still close enough for them to topple into it instead of landing in a jumble of limps on the ground. Robin gasped, releasing a breath of hot air into Nightwing’s mouth, and the latter instantly took that opportunity to roll over him and attack his neck.

It really helped when he knew exactly what to do to make himself feel good.

Robin whined high in his throat as Nightwing sucked at his Adam’s apple, Dick taking a seat next to them, palm stroking down Nightwing’s back and dipping past the hem of his oversized jeans, one finger digging into the cleft of his ass.

“Undress him.”

A shiver ran down his spine, and aw man, his pants were becoming way too restrictive.

Robin’s shirt went first, and the younger teen lifted his hips easily to let Nightwing tug off the pair of sweatpants that had been pooling at his feet. At least they didn’t have the hassle of underwear. None of them had been particularly inclined to borrow either Bruce or Alfred’s.

Dick laughed openly at the size of Robin’s half-hard cock.

“Shut up,” the youngest of them grumbled. “I’m still growing, okay?”

And with that, he wrapped both legs tight around Nightwing’s waist, slamming him into the bed and using the same momentum to swing up and straddle the already bare chest as he attempted to devour Dick’s mouth.

Robin kissed like Nightwing did, like the world would end tomorrow.

Dick kissed back slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

Nightwing crawled up to them to leave a splatter of hickeys over the back of Dick’s neck, but Robin clearly had other plans. He pounced, shoving Nightwing back to the mattress before he’d finished putting down a second mark. His hands weren’t as experienced as Dick’s when they fumbled open his belt, but he certainly made up for it by tugging them off so hard that Nightwing nearly slid off the bed.

“Whoa, take it ea—ohmygod Dick!”

“It’s Robin, actually,” Dick corrected with a smile, watching Robin’s head bob over Nightwing’s hips with an expression that suggested he’d seen odder things than a younger version of himself receiving a blowjob from an even younger version of himself.

There would probably be additional thoughts on how strange all this was, but Robin was fucking deep-throating him right now so—holy shit.

Robin hummed around Nightwing’s length, holding himself down and moaning as his own ass received a thorough molesting from Dick.

Fuck.

The gentle tremors of his throat that accompanied the sounds were driving Nightwing insane.

“I think it’s time to get the lube and condoms,” Dick smacked Robin’s butt and moved off the bed.

Robin pulled off with an obscene slurp. “…I refuse to break into Bruce’s room for lube.”

Nightwing was sure he could have made a witty remark about the condoms, but he was still trying to piece his thoughts together. There was always something absurdly brain-scattering about a throat vibrating around your cock.

“Why would we use Bruce’s stuff?” Dick asked, wandering over to the far side of the room.

“Wh—” Nightwing coughed to clear his hoarse voice. “Where do you expect to find it, then? Personally, I’d be pretty disturbed if there was protection in that bedside drawer.”

It took a moment, but then Dick and Robin were both diving to rummage through the aforementioned drawer.

“Nada.”

“Negative.”

“No shit,” Nightwing rolled his eyes. “As open as I am to underage sex…” he gestured towards Robin.

“I’m past the age of consent.”

“Not in Florida you’re not,” he narrowed his eyes at the other, who just wrapped a set of long fingers around him and squeezed. “Ack!”

“You were saying?”

“As—ha-a—as open as I am to underage sex and—ohhh—and masturbation—I think eleven is a little—little…” Robin’s lips were around him again. “Littletooyoung dammit Rob!”

“Our suits are also in this room.”

Robin sat up again, and Nightwing joined him in staring blankly at Dick.

“…You carry protection in your utility belt,” Nightwing stated what Robin seemed too afraid to ask.

“Yeah,” Dick gave them an equally blank look. “Don’t you?”

Robin’s head hit Nightwing’s stomach.

“We don’t usually expect to have sex on the job,” he muffled into the skin. Nightwing petted his hair soothingly, matting down the spikes. “Since we’re, you know, on the job.”

By this time, Dick had dug out his utility belt from the closet and was—yup—retrieving a half-empty tube of lube and—one, two, three, four, five, six—packets of condoms.

“The amount of lubricant is fairly disproportionate to the number of condoms,” Nightwing felt the need to point out. Dick threw the condoms at his face.

“Always be prepared,” he strolled back to them, twisting open the cap of the tube. “Forewarned is forearmed. Have you two learned nothing?”

Robin flailed. “He wasn’t talking about sex!”

“Of course not.” Dick coated his fingers carefully. “I’m pretty sure Bruce wants to know as much about my sex life as I do about his. Which, by the way, is zilch.” He leaned down to peck Robin’s lips. “But do you really think he’s not carrying protection himself when he’s having rooftop sex with Catwoman?”

Nightwing could have sworn that he heard whatever little bit was left of his erection deflate like a hot air balloon.

“Boner kill!” Robin exclaimed furiously, pointing to Nightwing’s crotch. “I spent time on that!”

Nightwing offered the younger one of several pillows on the bed, in case he wanted to suffocate himself too.

“Was I always this much of a prude?” Dick backflipped onto the mattress. Nightwing bounced alongside Robin and marveled at the aged wood’s ability to handle approximately 170 pounds of pure muscle and bone crashing onto it with little more than a creak. “And that, Robin, won’t take very long to fix.”

Surprise blowjobs were clearly a thing for him, Nightwing figured, because neither of his counterparts seemed inclined on giving him any warning before popping his dick—heh, namesake—into their mouths.

Only it really was difficult to think about that when Robin was squirming on top of him, licking at his teeth for entrance. Nightwing’s fingers clawed at the sheets, cock slowly hardening in Dick’s mouth, before his hands found better purchase on Robin’s ass. The younger boy automatically bucked his hips into the touch.

Dick Grayson had always loved hands on his ass.

He dragged Robin further up his chest, lifting his head, hoping he could take a hint. Robin didn’t disappoint, pushing himself past Nightwing’s lips with little hesitation, palms braced against the headboard and releasing a long sigh that quickly turned into a moan as Nightwing hollowed out his cheeks in a hard suck.

Dick, on the other end, had apparently managed to slip a whole finger into his ass without him even noticing.

Nightwing did groan at the second intrusion, but long fingers started pumping in and out of him quickly anyway, not giving him much time to adjust before there was a third, and a fourth, and—

“If you keep that up I’ll finish right now.”

Robin released a breathy chuckle, saliva-slick cock nudging at Nightwing’s cheek. “Stick to the plan, Dick.”

“You and your plans,” Dick sighed, removing his fingers—Nightwing whimpered at the loss—and there was a swish of clothes as the final pair of pants fell to the floor. There was the sound of a package tearing, and another few seconds during which Nightwing’s view was obstructed by Robin’s abs—he pulled the boy down for a kiss instead—until Dick’s coated cock, cold and smooth with lube, aligned with his hole. “We should get rid of those plans, don’t you think, Wing?”

“Mh,” Nightwing giggled into Robin’s mouth, erection wilting slightly in discomfort when he felt Dick pushing in. “Hey, Rob, help me finish off?”

“Sure thing,” Robin grinned back. “But then it’s my turn.”

And the moment he turned around, thigh on either side of his shoulders, Nightwing grabbed his ass and heaved him up, ignoring the other’s startled cry to press his tongue firmly between his ass cheeks.

“G-God Dick,” Robin’s voice was barely an octave higher than his, almost the same. There was something addictive about hearing his own voice call his name like that.

Nightwing could totally get used to this.

“Ha!” Dick barked a laugh, though it was strained, only the head of his cock inside Nightwing, blue eyes clouded with arousal. “I knew you were me!”

“Shut up,” Nightwing muffled against the soft muscle, and promptly rolled his hips down to meet Dick’s, hearing his breath stutter for the first time since the three of them had discovered their… interest in each other. “And fuck me already.”

“Jesus, Wing.” Dick’s eyes closed, cock buried to the hilt in… himself. Nightwing could feel his thighs tremble. He thrust once, carefully, and again. “I—you’re—fuck.”

But Nightwing was done letting the other two control the show. One of his legs wrapped around Dick’s back, forcing him to bend over so his other leg could sling over a shoulder that was broader than his, hips bucking hard and hands spreading Robin simultaneously, pushing a thumb in to let his tongue wriggle through.

The twin cries of pleasure were filed away in his mind to celebrate later.

Dick’s thrusts picked up speed, and Nightwing couldn’t see it over Robin’s ass, but the wet sounds of kissing told him enough. He tried to set up a pace himself that wasn’t interrupted by the way his body jerked up each time Dick slammed back into him or how his mind fogged with increasing pleasure.

“Night… wing.”

He smirked. Not ‘Dick’ this time, huh?

Both his thumbs were opening Robin up for him now, and Dick pressed his face against the other, pushed his tongue as deep as it would go. Robin broke away from Dick, head falling to Nightwing’s lower stomach and mouthing frantically at the base of his cock.

“Keep doing that.”

Nightwing had no intention of stopping anytime soon. His right hand released a cheek, feeling it spring back against his face, and moved to jerk Robin off, enthusiasm replacing control, because Dick was being a complete dick again, fully inside him and simply rotating his hips instead of thrusting, aware that Nightwing couldn’t do anything to stop him while his attention was focused on Robin.

“I could stay here all night.” He heard the eldest say.

Some part of his brain was still coherent enough to debate if it was better to become the Batman or this jerk.

Move goddammit!

Robin was clearly past any semblance of coherence at this point, nails scrabbling at Nightwing’s thighs, his poor attempt at a blowjob turning into a string of Russian curses and pants against Nightwing’s cock, the direct hot breath easing it back into a half-erect state.

Dick’s fingers drew patterns into his inner thighs; Nightwing’s hand followed the rhythm over Robin, loose on the downstroke and tight on the up, twisting his fist at the head the way he preferred, and judging by the whimpers, he was doing it right. When the curses cut off at the same time as those fingers disappeared, Nightwing knew Dick had eased them into Robin’s mouth.

He couldn’t see it, but he knew it with a certainty that could only come from knowing himself.

Dick wore the cowl, but he was still—

“Dick!”

His hand couldn’t catch it all, and he felt drops of the warm release drip onto his collarbone, beginning to slide down his chest before Robin collapsed on him, body heaving and trembling in a way Nightwing was all-too familiar with.

He gave the twitching hole another few licks, enjoying how Robin jolted helplessly as though he’d meant to thrust back, but his muscles had failed him.

The cock still thrusting in and out of him at a leisurely pace twitched in return, and when Nightwing lifted his head, Dick’s eyes were open, watching them both, pupils blown so wide that the blue was almost black.

Robin rolled off Nightwing.

“Carry on,” he waved weakly. “I’ll just… be here.”

Nightwing couldn’t help but laugh, only it cut off into a high squeak (that he’d deny he ever uttered) because Dick’s hands had shifted from his hips to his ass, gripping hard enough to leave bruises and the thrusts were turning harder, faster, and he pushed back just as hard, as eager to please as he was to be pleased, pulling one leg up to his ear and locking it there with an arm.

“Yessss,” he hissed, head tossing back. Dick leaned closer, nipping at his throat, sucking a hickey into his pulse point where everyone would see it. “Faster.”

“Few more years before I have that kind of stamina, huh?” Robin remarked casually, the words nearly drowning the sound of the lube cap popping again.

Dick and Nightwing blinked at each other, then looked over.

Holy mother of—

Robin had yet to recover from his orgasm, but he didn’t seem to care, because he was spread over the length of the mattress, ankles crossed behind his head in Nightwing’s favorite position, a slick finger diligently working in and out of himself.

“I’m starting to get,” Dick rasped, slowing down, and this time Nightwing didn’t really mind. “Why Wally likes watching me so much. Kory’s got nothing on that.”

Robin added another finger, previous nonchalance betrayed by the red flush traveling down his neck. Nightwing remembered hating how he blushed through his ears—awful—but now that same quality in Robin seemed almost too cute to handle.

“Are you going to just—” his mouth was dry. He swallowed, reaching to push Dick back. “Just stay over there?”

With a cackle that sounded far too much like his own, Dick’s fingers curved around Nightwing’s cock, pumping him to full hardness.

“Yeah, D—Rob.” The stutter could have come from Nightwing rolling his hips or from the fact that Robin was now scissoring himself in full view of his older selves. “Don’t tell me you’re preparing yourself like that only to jack yourself off on your own.”

“You two need to learn to stop talking.” Robin’s voice was carefully controlled. Unraveling his legs, he grabbed one of the packets next to Nightwing’s head, tearing it open with his teeth. Nightwing’s breath hitched as Robin straddled his waist and rolled down the condom with practiced ease, dripping a generous amount of lube over it. He felt Dick angle him, movements slowed almost to a halt.

“Wait, I—ah!”

All complaints went flying out of his head, though, when Robin threw caution to the wind and impaled his ass in one fluid motion and Dick slammed into him at the same instant.

His body lurched, trying to buck upwards and back at the same time and getting nowhere, spine arching off the bed because Robin was already moving, bouncing above him as Dick mimicked the pace horizontally, and Nightwing tried to reciprocate but all he was capable of doing at this point was sliding up and down the sheets with each wet slap of flesh against flesh.

Dick was strong, and Robin was fast, and Nightwing fisted the sheets, toes curling, desperate for release but trying to hold out anyway.

The fingers that had been holding his cock moved to pump Robin now, and Dick’s other hand turned Robin’s face towards him. The kiss was sloppy and loud, a flash of pink appearing between the two pairs of lips before they disappeared into Dick’s mouth. Robin leaned back against his oldest counterpart, arms rising to awkwardly wind around his neck, bounces slowing as his thighs tired, growing more forceful instead. His abs contracted with each push, glistening with sweat, flushed all the way to his chest. Dick returned the kiss just as fiercely, bicep flexing as it tightened around Robin’s waist.

How narcissistic would it be for him to call them beautiful?

At some point they’d broken the kiss, he realized only once his nipple was between Robin’s teeth, and with a vehement squeeze to his balls—Dick—Nightwing was coming with an ancient Romani prayer on his lips, jumbled with what could have been some version of his own name.

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a few seconds, because he had no clue when Robin slid him out or when Dick stuck two fingers into Robin’s loose hole, curling them and pumping him with quick, efficient strokes so within only moments he was painting Nightwing’s chest white all over again, moans turning to a keening, “God.”

It took a few more thrusts, but Dick could only last so much longer with Nightwing’s ass clenching and spasming around him, and his shuddering gasp trailed into a German curse and a “Fucking Wing,” that Nightwing would remember for a long time.

Even as he lay panting on the sheets, tangled in three sets of limbs, something in Nightwing that he’d thought he’d left behind with his old Robin costume compelled him to quip.

“Rob. Hey, Rob.”

“Mmfgn,” Robin mumbled hazily into his neck.

“You got it right the first time.”

“…Mmfgn?”

“Wasn’t god; it was Dick.”

Dick somehow mustered the energy to snort, sprawled next to them, sweaty chest heaving against Nightwing’s arm. Robin pinched his nipple in return, making him squawk, and suddenly the room exploded with tired laughter.

“I think I can stand not to move for the rest of my life.” Managing to find a cozy spot between the older two seemed to have mellowed Robin out considerably. Or maybe it was the two orgasms. Nightwing wasn’t sure, but any doubt that Robin was actually a version of himself that he might have had disappeared as he happily snuggled into the warmth.

“Best. Sex. Ever,” Dick crowed quietly. “So who’s gonna take care of the sheets? I call not it.” Leaning over Robin, he pressed his lips to Nightwing’s.

“Not it!” Robin immediately took the opening.

Nightwing pulled away indignantly, “Hey! Quit ganging up on me!”

“You seemed to enjoy it a few minutes ago.” Dick began trailing kisses down his jaw, pausing to suck at a particularly sensitive scar on his neck. How was it that they were from different universes with different circumstances, but they all had the same scars? “Don’t tell me you teenagers tire faster than this old man.”

Robin frowned, the expression most prominent on his face, it seemed. “You’re what, twenty-something?”

“Six.” Talking kept him from moaning, because Dick was leaving what felt like a giant hickey at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitched with half-hearted interest, needing five more minutes but definitely wanting more now. “Mmh.” His fingers found the cleft of Dick’s ass.

The youngest of them rolled his eyes, but just as his mouth opened to probably inform Dick that twenty-six was not old, someone rapped three times in quick succession on the door.

There was only one person who knocked like that.

If Nightwing didn’t know better, he’d have thought Dick had superspeed, considering he was already halfway across the room, pulling a pack of wet wipes from his belt and tossing them over to the bed, not a sign of the fact that his ass had been bucking into Nightwing’s hands a moment ago in either face or cock.

Ha. For all his talk, clearly Bruce was a boner kill even for Dick.

But the voice that accompanied the knock was not the one they expected.

Do I really knock like Bruce?

“What are you guys doing in there?” An eleven year-old called from outside, and frankly, this was even worse than if it had been Bruce. “Can I come in?”

“No!” Nightwing panicked.

“In a moment!” Robin went for diplomatic.

“It’s my room.” They could hear the pout all the way through the thick wood.

“I’ll be right out.” Dick, already done wiping himself down thoroughly and—were these tissues scented?—was pulling on his pants now. He buckled up and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head as he walked to the door, dropping a wink as he passed Robin and Nightwing. “I’ll distract the kid, but you two owe me.”

The others were too busy diving under the duvet to reply as Dick pulled the door open just enough for him to slip out, and there was a loud squeal from the other end that signaled that he had, in fact, distracted the kid, probably by tossing him into the air, and muffled pieces of conversation drifted to their ears as Dick walked off with… the Dick Grayson whose universe they were currently residing in.

“You smell like strawberries.”

“Do I now?”

“Yup! It’s my favorite!”

“Really? It’s my favorite too!”

“Of course it is. We’re the same person.”

“Could you please stop climbing all over me.”

“You’re like Bruce! A human jungle gym!”

“People are jungle gyms; clearly you’re growing up right.”

The youngest Dick giggled loudly.

“You have pretty eyes. Do I have pretty eyes too?”

And that was all Nightwing could handle before he burst into laughter, biting the comforter to keep it from reaching the baby Robin, just in case he wanted to come running back to see what was so funny. The older Robin stared at him.

“Were we born that narcissistic?”

“I think it’s more of an acquired taste,” Nightwing choked, hands clasped over his mouth.

“What I find funny is that he calls himself old, but he’s the one who just walked out of here as if that wasn’t the greatest sex in history—”

“Most unique one, too,” Nightwing cut in to point out, realizing with a start that, whoa, baby Dick was right. Robin did have ridiculously pretty eyes. “Didn’t he say… he dated Babs? Our very own ballerina Batgirl?”

His counterpart blinked back. “And Koriand’r, an alien princess with enough power to crush half of Earth in one fist.”

“And now he’s with Wally, a speedster who can vibrate.”

He could practically see the metaphorical bulb light up in both their heads.

“Well that explains a lot.” Robin’s voice dipped lower. His eyes travelled along Nightwing’s body with an intensity that would have made him flush if it weren’t for the fact that, hey, he could check himself out as much as he wanted. “The stamina, for instance.”

“And the safe sex belt pouch, actually.” Okay, so maybe his ears were burning. A little. At least now he knew the effect he had on other people. “I should invest in that.”

“We talk way too much.” Robin’s smirk widened as Nightwing hovered over him.

“So maybe you should shut up,” Nightwing suggested, and kissed him.

They really owed Dick.

The circumstances which led up to this were probably important, Dick mused as his younger counterpart whimpered in his arms, but all he could remember was a blushing fourteen year-old version of himself stuttering out a demand for assistance—because Robins never asked for help—and Dick being absolutely floored by the request.

And then they were here, Robin arching to reach his lips and Dick laughing into his mouth as he complied.

His younger counterpart whined as their tongues twisted together, demanding his full attention, so Dick broke the kiss to nibble on his neck and lightly walk long fingers up his bare thigh.

“Shh, Dick,” he breathed into a sensitive ear, delighting in how Robin shivered against him. “We’ll get there.”

Robin bucked his hips in response, giving him a weak glare, and Dick smirked as blue met identical blue.

His fingers danced around Robin as he moved his lips to soothe the tingles they left behind, down his thigh and up his lower stomach, but not where Robin was aching to be touched. Dick slid his other hand between the bedsheets and his younger self’s ass, working the firm flesh as Robin rolled back against his palm.

“Oh God,” Robin moaned. Dick was amused to see that it wasn’t from what he was doing to the boy. “Am I really this cruel to Wally?”

“Nah,” Dick assured him, kissing the tip of his weeping cock and making him jerk. Robin’s blue eyes darkened as they watched him lick precum off his lips. Dick’s thumb circled his entrance. “You’re way worse. He’s a speedster, remember?”

Without any warning, Dick took the other fully into his mouth, going down until his nose brushed against the base, simultaneously slipping a finger inside and confusing Robin’s hips as to which sensation they should buck towards. Dick sucked hard once, hollowing out his cheeks and reveling in the helpless moan he received as a reward, then he was back up and smiling down at Robin, before leaning forward and kissing him harshly, letting him taste himself like Dick had.

This should probably be more weird than hot, but it really, really wasn’t.

“As I keep saying,” Dick told his counterpart. “I was good even back then.”

Robin tried to kick him and Dick dodged with a cackle.

“Would you… fucking… move!”

Dick’s finger was moving before Robin could finish his gasping sentence, thrusting in hard and fast and pulling out slowly, the other’s hips meeting him halfway, Robin’s face flushed a pretty pink, legs spread, knees bent and feet planted firmly on the bed.

He writhed in the sheets, falling apart in front of his eyes.

Dick slipped in a second finger and kept up the pace, using his other hand to sling Robin’s knees over his shoulders. He bent over the boy and kissed him again, his knees touching ears that were still a bit too large.

“Put your feet behind your head,” Dick mouthed the words against Robin’s lips, warm breaths mingling. “Cross your ankles to lock them in place.”

Robin immediately did as he was told and Dick’s fingers slid deeper, and the older teen wondered if he was always this good at following instructions. The perfect little soldier.

He watched Robin in fascination, pants tight enough to be painful, because frankly, he looked amazing with his fingers in his ass.

Dick bit down lightly on a pert nipple and Robin failed to suppress a groan that made his whole body shudder.

“F-faster, Dick, please.”

Take out an octave and that could be his own voice calling his name.

“Having a little trouble with coherence there, Rob?” he teased, sucking more precum off Robin’s dick. Chuckling lowly at the unintended pun, his mouth found the pulse point at the other’s neck as his fingers curled on their way in, and then Robin was throwing his head back with a stifled scream, arching his body up in an entirely impossible manner, weight balanced on the crown of his head and his ass. Dick sat back on his toes to appreciate the sight. It wasn’t often that he got to see his own flexibility in action.

Dick’s fingers finally curved around Robin’s length and he could feel the younger wait with baited breath, but Dick just gave him a cheerful smile and waited. Robin simply keened in response, and Dick took another moment to take pride in making Robin lose control.

“Well? Thrust into my hand,” Dick rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna do allthe work here.”

His counterpart stared at him incredulously, so Dick paused his fingers as well. Robin whined in protest.

“If you’re missing your control, this is how you get it back.” Thumb running over a moist slit. “Trust me.”

Long legs started to unwind from under Robin, but Dick stopped him with a hand pressed to the back of his thighs.

“You don’t need support.”

Robin gave him yet another disbelieving look, trying to roll his hips down over the fingers himself if Dick wouldn’t move.

“I’ll take them out and leave you here,” Dick threatened. Robin looked skeptical. “I swear. You wanted to learn, now let me teach.”

Another second, and Dick took out one finger, bringing the other out till the first knuckle. It was then that Robin decided not to take the risk, and propelled up into Dick’s hand, using his head and ass to provide the pressure for each thrust.

“Oh,” he whispered, and Dick managed to not look immensely pleased with himself even as his fingers resumed their work, aware that Robin’s mind was clearing further with every thrust.

“See?” Dick kissed his stomach, tongue dipping into his naval and making him squirm. “We have a lot of stamina too. How else do you think you survive Wally’s vibrations?”

“You’re a dick,” Robin was kind enough to let him know. “What was wrong with just telling me?”

Dick giggled against the warm skin, “You wanted me to show you.”

“Still,” Robin grumbled. “You don’t have to stop every time I’m confused. And who the hell talks so much during sex?”

“I’m chatty,” Dick shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”

Robin smirked at him, reaching up to tangle equally long fingers in slightly longer hair. “I know.”

They were both laughing into the kiss now, even as Robin’s other hand clenched against the sheets and his body rose and fell with each thrust, and when Robin finally came, whimpering Dick’s name as the older added a vehement squeeze to his cock and curled three slim fingers inside, he bit down on Dick’s shoulder and tangled both hands into the older’s hair the same way Dick did, and it was surreal.

Dick pulled his fingers out slowly as Robin brought his legs down, reaching out to lift Dick’s other hand to his mouth, hesitantly licking it clean with what Dick considered the most adorable blush ever.

…And of all the things that had happened today, referring to himself as ‘adorable’ was what felt weird.

“You should put on a show for him someday,” Dick muttered, studying the pink tongue darting between his knuckles.

“We should put on a show for them someday,” Robin corrected, then seemed to realize what he’d just said and blushed furiously. Dick cackled.

“Maybe we should.”

Robin smiled up at him, relaxed in a way Dick couldn’t recall seeing before. He kissed the younger boy, tasting Robin on his tongue, tasting himself, and deciding that this whole experience? Definitely repeatable.

“Hey, Dick?” Robin slid a hand down his chest, sending shockwaves through his body and alerting him to his own straining erection. Dick hummed distractedly in response.

Suddenly his world went topsy-turvy and he was the one on his back, deft fingers that most definitely didn’t belong to him unbuttoning his pants, his counterpart grinning above him, flushed and shy but proud in a way that Dick was sure could only come from gaining a one-up over a Robin.