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It’s not often that Damian is the one to initiate a hug, there’s only few things that can drive him to do so and one of them is this miserable look Dick gets every once in a while, one Damian learnt to relate to the man’s self destructive doubts and morals. “Grayson” he reaches for the man’s waist and tugs him closer almost violently, wrapping his arms around him and pressing to him, chest against chest. “Shut up.” Damian doesn’t need to look up to see the surprise in Dick’s eyes, the little “Ah” is enough.
“I haven’t said anything y’kno” Dick’s tone is light but it’s a bit too heavy on the edges, a bit too tensed for Damian’s liking. Dick is awkward, hands frozen in air and body almost tense, Damian hates it. “Little D?” he asks, tone unsure.
“Be quiet. ” Damian’s tone is edgy yet his embrace is gentle, it’s caring.“ You’ll ruin it”.
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From the friends to lovers prompt: “Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.” dickdami if you would ^_-
Hey, look! I’m not dead, even if I am behind on life (a.k.a. comics).
~500 words.
[ meme | ask ]
~~~
“Robin!” someone shrieks and Damian turns, ready to fight, surely wondering why so many low-rank villains feel the need to announce their presence before an attack, but he instead finds a woman running toward him breathlessly.
Damian blinks and his stance loosens as he tries not to gape at her. “Is there a problem?”
She reaches his proximity and doubles over a moment, gasping, and Damian does his best not to scold her for wasting his time. He thinks of all the crime Gothamites are constantly facing, looking in himself for enough sympathy to exchange for patience. Flushed, she straightens up quickly and smiles and Damian is taken aback.
“Hi,” she says and Damian does not step away. He just…assesses his current situation.
“Problem?” he asks again.
Her expression changes to a pout. “Oh, yes,” she intones. “I have a horrible problem, Robin, and only you can solve it.”
“Get on with it then.”
“See?” she says, and she spreads her hands before her. “That’s my problem: we’re not getting it on.”
Damian only stares at her, appalled and…oh, that heat he’s feeling is in his cheeks. “What?” he manages. He shakes his head and ignores the way his voice shakes, too. “T— tt.”
The woman winks at him and Damian is frozen.
“Robin?” someone else calls. “Are you coming?”
Nightwing hops down and his gaze swivels between Damian and the woman. He grins his impossibly charming grin at her. “Did you need something?”
She eyes him with uncertain interest and Dick tries not to feel too insulted when she shakes her head, albeit ever-so-slightly. “Nah,” she says to herself after she finishes her appraisal. “Robin’s definitely cuter.”
“And, despite his newfound height, not yet eighteen.”
The woman stares at Damian again, then lets out a disappointed sigh. Suddenly, she smiles and her eyes twinkle. “When’s your birthday? I’ve got the perfect—”
“We have to go,” Dick interrupts and Damian gives him a curt nod.
They hop away and the woman shouts her number into the distance.
With the safety of a rooftop, Dick pulls Damian into his arms. “Her pickup line wasn’t nearly as good as any of mine,” he murmurs, amused, and his finger crooks under Damian’s chin as he leans in. “I’m just saying.”
Damian kisses him hard before shifting away slightly. “‘Not yet eighteen,’” he mimics, in far too eerie an approximation of Dick’s own voice.
Dick shrugs. “You know I hate that.” Then, his cowing turns to false confidence. “Anyway, my job is to stop them from committing crimes, not me.”
“Are you planning on committing a crime, Grayson?” Damian asks, but his smirk belies his earnest tone.
Laughing, Dick nuzzles Damian’s throat. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Are you going to stop me, Robin?”
“Tt,” but then Damian’s breath hitches. “I might be willing to concede defeat. Just this once.”
“I guess I should be happy you’re not sleeping with supervillains—we’d all be dead.”
“Be quiet, Grayson,” Damian says, and he does his best to make it so.
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.”
