#nightwing reader

“The pleasure is mine, to be accepted by such a fascinating town,” (Y/n) says, looking around. “They told me you would show me around, Winter.”

Daffodil had slid down Winter’s shoulder and down his front leg, scurrying to also greet the new dragon.

“I’m Human-Daffodil!” she (roughly) declares. “I will eat you.”

(Y/n) snorts a sooty cloud in amusement.

“That’s new! Talking scavengers,” he observed, holding out his talon for her to investigate. The dark-haired human surveyed the limb before deciding to take his claw and gave it a small shake.

Another rumbling chuckle came from the NightWing. Winter almost cringed in embarrassment but stayed cool. She’s only learning, he has to remind himself.

“Why don’t we take a look around before we get you settled?” Winter suggest, pointy tail twitching.

(Y/n) stood beside him, almost an inch taller, enthusiastically. “That would be great,” he tells him.

The Icewing offers him a small smile back, aiding Daffodil onto his shoulder before starting his tour of Sanctuary. They observed the different variety of tribe homes, ranging from the mud huts to the amphibious dwellings in the lake. They traveled up along the river as the dragons and human discuss the recent Pyrrhia news before coming upon some young dragonets playing in a fort next to the cold stream.

It was at the foot of a great pine tree at its shore, constructed of needled branches and logs, a couple branches of the pine tree were low enough for the elder dragonets to perch on.

“Hi Winter!” one of them greets, getting the others attention, joining in a cacophony of eager greetings.

“Woah! A NightWing?!” they awed, gaping at (Y/n).

“Is he staying here?!” another squealed.

The IceWing went to answer but (Y/n) beat him, “Yes I am,” showing off his star-speckled wings. The dragonets cheer at the spectacular display and Winter gazed in his own amazement, following the tiny constellations in his wings. He caught (Y/n) staring back at him, a blue flush making his ears azure as he looked away with a grumpy frown.

“Well that’s good to hear,” he grumbled. Daffodil snickers at his feet, so he accidentally knocked her over with his talon.

They said goodbye to the dragonets and went back towards the homes, a pine scented breeze at their backs. A shiver went up (Y/n)’s spine, evident by the way his spines bristled at the lick of another breeze.

“A bit colder than you expected?” Winter asked him, glancing away from him. Daffodil had decided to be carried by (Y/n), but paid the price by being bucked by his scales as they twitched, squeaking irritably but decided to (stubbornly) ride them out. The IceWing snorts at this.

(Y/n) chortled with a breathe of flame. “Compared to the two previous places I’ve lived, yes!”

Winter smiled at this but realized how many times the NightWing had to move homes: first the NightWing’s ancient kingdom, and then the volcanic island after, the lush Rainforest Kingdom and now the chilly mountainous Sanctuary. How many times until you’re home? It made Winter feel homesick for the Ice Kingdom but quickly remembered that Sanctuary was just as much his home.

“I assume you will also show me where I live now, right?” (Y/n) question snapped him from his thoughts.

“Of course!” Winter says with another jolt of embarrassment.

They returned to the swatch of homes and to a newly constructed log building at the end of them, closet to the pine forest. Winter swung the door open and (Y/n) steps inside with another flick of flame to light up the darkening room.

“Dark!” Daffodil proclaims, her small voice louder in the vast space. (Y/n) deftly found the candle on the nearby table and lit it for their squinting eyes. Several other Talons of Peace had constructed the home, as Winter wasn’t really involved with the construction, so he got to nose around (Y/n) quarters for the first time too.

It was very empty; only having the aforementioned table, simple and round and large enough for two or three adult dragons, and a cozy bed of moss and furs lay in a corner of the home with two pine-scented pillows, and a stone fireplace set into the back wall, being made up of varying shaped and colored river rocks, no doubt taken from the nearby stream. A welcome basket was revealed also on the table with different foods and other small supplies, even a couple of scrolls.

“This is very quaint,” the NightWing comments to the room. “I will decorate this place with the finest of NightWing decor.”

Winter quirked a brow, wondering if he’d stolen anything from the lost NightWing kingdom, which is territory still up for debate. Though, it was argued to be a sacred historical site and must remain undisturbed but several NightWings want to go back to their original home and thus Queen Glory is figuring out if she should establish a small far away village.

“Are you telling me you’re a secret carpenter?” Winter asked pointedly.

“No, I’m a metal worker actually. I used to make weapons during the war and for the invasion,” (Y/n) explained, rolling his shoulders, making the human still on his back to stumble and squeak some more. “I’m sure most of it got melted into a spiky, metal puddle when the volcano exploded anyway. But I hope to lend my blacksmithing talon in construction or art or something.”

“At least none of them were actually used against anyone,” Winter assured.

“Maybe,” the NightWing replies ruefully. He looked guilty, making Winter continue to wonder if (Y/n) hesitance is because of the RainWing kidnappings, maybe his weapons were used to threaten the placid dragons.

The ice dragon offers him a comforting talon on his shoulder, being a light touch as his serrated claws slightly scraped against the scales. They give each other small, assuring smiles to one another.

Daffodil decided to add her own tiny hand to the pile, wanting to be involved, and made the dragons burst into laughter.

“I live a couple houses down if you need anything,” Winter tells him once he’s caught his icy breath. “Just let us know when you’re settled and we’ll give you your first assignment.”

(Y/n) nods. “Thank you, Winter. I’ll be sure to see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, night (Y/n),” Daffodil bids him, being settled back onto the floor to return to Winter. He rolled his eyes as he picked her up. They really need to work on her Dragon, maybe have (Y/n) threaten to eat her if she doesn’t study with Axolotl.

“If I needed to have sex with you to not die, would you have sex with me?” he clarifies, with a tilt of a smile that does worrying things to your heartbeat, not a skip in the rhythm but more of a stumble. You ignore it in favour of stirring the ice in your drink, listening to the soothing click clack of ice cubes against glass.

“Well yea, but… Blue balls isn’t real Dick, you can’t listen to what Jason tells you.” You lean your head back against the back of the settee and turn to Dick with a smirk on your face.

“One hundred percent you would?” He asks, like he’s needing to catalogue this somewhere in his mind and you frown.

“Well yea, you die or we have sex? We have sex,” you say simply like it’s a formula. “You’d do the same for me, right?” It only feels fair to ask the question back and he nods with an earnest expression.

“Of course.”  His nod is firm and it feels like something like a contract has been signed verbally, though you’re still a little unsure what actually just happened.

And that’s the last you think on it: Not the sex with Dick bit, you think on that a lot and its increasing frequency is getting worrying since he’s a friend, a very good close friend, and you don’t want to ruin that with something so messy as friends with benefits or, even messier, Love.

Yes, capital L, Love

It’s a late August afternoon when there’s a fist pounding at your door and you startle enough that you fumble your phone, juggling it for a moment in the air one handed before it falls to the floor. The hammer-fisted person at your door bangs again and you stride to the door ready to rip them a new one when you open the door and stop stock still.

Red Robin is at your door, but the most surprising part of this is that he’s supporting Dick, who is wincing and sweating like he’s in agony, clothes dishevelled like he’s been roughed up. They step into your apartment together, or more Dick stumbles while Red Robin guides him in.

“Dick, oh my god, are you ok,” you follow them to the settee Red Robin places him on, and your hand smooths over Dick’s bicep. There’s a low moan and a shudder that passes his lips and you pull back worrying you’ve hurt him. “Is he ok?” You look to Red Robin, his white eyes giving you nothing to work from, though the thin set of his mouth makes you worry.

“He’s been exposed to Poison Ivy’s latest pheromone, and if he doesn’t have penetrative sexual intercourse ending in fulfilling ejaculation he will die. He said you would help him through this.”

He almost sounds like he’s reciting something from a book, verbatim, impersonal as he speaks, except for the last bit, he sounds like he’s asking and apologising at the same time. For a moment your brain flatlines, only coming back to life when Dick shudders and groans.

“Gotham is so fucking weird- Alright, thanks for bringing him here, uh…you can go now?” If he finds your dismissal rude, he doesn’t say anything, and judging by the speed he leaves he seems glad to be gone. You crouch down in front of Dick, who looks like he’s in agony, knuckles white where he grips the fabric of his jeans. Reaching out you feel heat radiating from his skin and hesitate for a moment before cupping his cheek.

He leans into it with a sigh that wheedles off into a whine, and his eyes are lidded and heated in a way you’ve never seen before.

“You’re gonna be okay Dick, I’ll look after you.” The words sound like a filthy promise to his mind and he shudders in delight at the thought of all that that entails. It gives him renewed energy and he surges forward, hand sliding around the back of your neck bringing you close enough that he can kiss you messily, hungrily, while moaning into your mouth.

It’s startling but fuck it goes straight to your cunt, like lightning, and you gasp.

He deepens the kiss, tongue sliding deliciously over your lip and your eyes flutter shut as you groan, pushing further into him until his free arm manoeuvres you onto the couch with him, straddling him.

“Please,” he whines against your mouth, his hips jutting up searching for relief between your legs. His hands settle on your hips pushing you down against the solid erection you can feel through both of your clothes. His head falls backward, throat exposed and Adams apple bobbing up and then down as he swallows thickly, gasping at the sensation. It’s as though some sanity or sense comes back to him, his eyes finding yours, “Is this- Is this okay?” He asks, and you see the worry in his eyes and know that if you said ‘no’ he’d not let this go further.

But you don’t say no.

Instead you lean forward, hand sliding under his collar to touch the heated skin of his neck and feel the rumble of his moan along his throat, “Of course it is,” you murmur against his lips, capturing his full bottom lip between yours in a kiss that makes Dick thrust against you as breath catches in his throat.

It’s like your words are the starting gun, and you realise how much Dick has been holding back. His strong arms wrap around you, hands splayed open on your back and pulling you close like he can’t stand the air between your bodies. One hand cradles your head as his hips cant, and you’re moving and turning in one smooth motion and he’s above you now on the couch, his hips between your legs pressed against you.

It's like he doesn’t know what to do with himself: With you. One hand roams your side, clumsily sliding underneath your top so his hot hand can press against your hip and squeeze as he grinds slowly against you. His other hand finds your nipple through your t-shirt, when he realises you’re without a bra the softness of your breast and the hardness of your nipple through thin cotton has him growling against your neck where he bites and licks and sucks in frenzy.

But the noises you’re making in his ear, they are what’s driving him mad. The gasps stopped short by moans and hitching of breath as he does something that makes you writhe underneath him are making his cock weep precum messily, he can feel it. He feels greedy and drinks all of you in, the feel and sound of you underneath him is going to be seared into his memory forever, he thinks through the haze of the need to fuck you until you can only sob his name while you come undone on his cock.

“I knew you’d sound pretty,” he groans against your neck, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

He pulls back and you’re treated to the sight of Dick, sweating and panting as he takes off his black t-shirt. The vision of him, body rippling with heavy breaths, between your legs, stupefies you. You take too long to move for Dick and he’s pulling your top over your head, arms wrapping around you again to bring you against his heated skin. The feel of your bare skin against his has him panting hot breaths across your chest as he leans down to take a hard nipple in his mouth, flicking along it expertly with his tongue before capturing it between his teeth gently.

Your nails scrape along his scalp as your fingers thread through his hair and it makes him whine, “Oh god,” you breathe out, almost overwhelmed by the way he feels on you, it’s all encompassing and you’ve never been so present in your body before. All you can think of is the brush of his calloused hand against your side, the sharp bite of teeth, and the hot tongue that dances over your skin.

And his eyes.

He looks up at you, mouth still on your skin, his eyes are almost black with the way his pupils are blown, but they’re heated as they watch you: And they have been watching you, watching the way you gasp, mouth in a pretty little o shape as you writhe under him. He watches your face as his hand slips under the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear and through the wetness he finds there, fingers pressing into your wet pussy with ease. He could come just by the feel and the sight of you alone as he watches your face when his fingers slip past your lips, almost shocked at how good it feels.

Dick can’t help himself, he moves up your body, fingers still dancing up and down your folds, learning what makes you keen so deliciously. He wants those noises in his ear, like a secret just for him. He presses open mouthed kisses along your jawline as he pushes a finger into you, holding you close when your whole body bucks and the moan you breathe against his ear has him replying with his own.

It’s almost as good as the noise you make when, after a few stoking strokes of his one finger, he slides a second one in, coaxing expertly along your walls to find your g spot and press against it just right. The heel of his hand presses against your clit as he flexes his wrist and crooks his fingers inside of you, stealing your breath away as your arousal coats his fingers generously.

“Dick, let me- please-“ your hand slides down his front, nails grazing his skin in a light drag as your hands land clumsy on his waistband. Reaching underneath you find the hot head of his cock, already smeared with precum, “oh fuck,” you breathe and Dick swallows down the moan. When your fingers swirl through the sticky precum his hips push up, and your hand curls to sheathe him, to squeeze him. His eyes nearly roll back at the sensation, and his head falls to the crook of your neck when you roll your wrist and slide along the thick tip of him.

His skin is hot, almost feverish, and you run a hand through his hair, soothing his groans as you shift to remove your shorts. His hand grips your waist as he sits up to remove his bottoms, like he’s loathe to break contact with you.

When you’re both bare and naked in the midday sun on your couch it’s like time is caught, suspended, like a dust mote in a sunbeam. You both breathe heavy, taking the other in. Dick’s cock is hard and upright, precum glistening where it still beads freshly at the head, the perfect length for you and a thickness that has you biting your lip. Looking down at you from where he kneels between your legs he licks his lips, thirsty for the taste of your skin on his lips again.

It’s not frantic, or desperate when you reach out to him and he lays down above you pressing a kiss between your breasts as you wrap your leg around his waist. The sigh he breathes shudders as he enters you, resting his forehead against the place he’d set a kiss, almost reverent while your fingers tug at his hair and his breath heats the skin of your sternum.

When his arms tremble you know he’s restraining himself.

“Dick,” his name is soft and wanting on your lips and he stills, looking up to see your heated gaze, feels your hips move underneath him, urging him onward, “It’s okay.”

You don’t know what he’s going through, you don’t know how tomorrow will be, but you know you need him to know that now is okay, and you’re here for him.

It’s permission to let go completely.

He sits back then, on his knees still inside of you but not fully, not really. The first thrust goes so deep it’s almost painful, a sharp sudden stab deep within you. But that drag back out makes it all worth it. His hips roll, the sound of wetness against his groin rends the air and it makes everything feel like more. Dick’s eyes raise and he looks intoxicated, you think, eyes unfocused as he thrusts into you at a punishing pace but he looks good and he feels good and his hand is on your cheek, thumb caressing your wet lips before sliding into your mouth where you swirl your tongue and caress it as he digs his fingers into your hip. His thrusts shake you, the sensation of your tits bouncing while you suck on his thumb and god he’s looking at you so fucked out.

When he pulls his thumb out of your mouth there’s a string of spit that glistens for a moment, before breaking and the lewdness compared to your eyes looking up at him lidded and heated for him, because of him, sends him over.

The thrusts go longer, deeper, as he pushes into you as far as he can while he chokes out moans of your name, almost sobbing in relief and ecstasy.

You anchor him, as he comes down from the pheromones. His body collapses next to yours, exhausted and spent: You shift so he can have more space but he just reaches out to hold you close as he pants into your hair.

The hand on his side is soothing, and your body is soft against him, and he decides he just wants to be in this moment for a good long while, happy and content, if a little exhausted. He doesn’t want to think about what tomorrow might bring, hell he doesn’t want to think about what the next hour will bring.

Just now is good.

Dick had drifted off to sleep, nose still pressed against your hair as his breaths turned even and his skin cooled. The combination of good sex and the comfort of strong arms holding you in place had sent you to sleep as well, because it just felt so good and right to be in his arms in the midday sunlight that spilled through your apartment windows painting the both of you in warm yellows.

But when you woke up he was gone, the room a dim blue and cold, despite the blanket he’d pulled over you, presumably before leaving.

It’s kind of heartbreaking if you think about it too much; you hadn’t thought Dick would be like that but you knew well he had… Emotional Issues, sometimes. So, you let him be to figure it out, even if it doesn’t feel good for you. Even if when you think on it, it feels like someone’s put their hand into your chest and is squeezing at your lungs and heart: It’s whatever.

You tell yourself you won’t dwell on it while you’re looking at the text you’d sent him that he hadn’t opened for days now, asking if he wants to talk.

He obviously didn’t.

You grab your bag and push your phone into it, resolving not to look at it for the next half hour, deciding to take a walk for your health.

Sunset hovers for a long time over Gotham at this time of year, twilight sitting on the edge of safe and dangerous just enough to still be comfortable to walk through.

Maybe night time is mad enough these days that the craziness has spilled over into daylight hours.

It’s a rumble first, it makes you stop in your steps and when thick green vines shoot through the walls around you with the force and speed of moving cars you thank your lucky stars you stopped. The world turns green, hell it smells green, and it doesn’t take a genius to know Poison Ivy is about.

There’s no way for you to get around the landscaping that’s turned your space into a little green bubble. The plants writhe around you, only small gaps showing the skies above. You give it a few minutes, listening to chaos and shouts outside before you decide to touch the vines, try to move them.

They do, and you make enough space to squeeze up and out into fresh air, except the vines underneath your palms stiffen, squeeze, and you’re trapped by the ankle, unable to pull your foot out of the tangle.

Looking around you sigh. There’s no one to be seen, even poison Ivy has moved further on down the street, where you catch sight of a black cape swooping down towards her as she commands the vines once more. The one that has captured your ankle squeezes and you hiss, pulling at your foot again hoping it doesn’t tighten any more.

The scent of green is taken over by something sweet as your nails drag through the vines and you pull and twist, before looking around frantically.

In front of you it twists as it grows, a flower bud that gives a little pop when it opens into a beautiful and massive red lily. The sweetness is thick on the air like syrup and you cough and breathe deep on reflex and cough again. The vines relax, or maybe you do, but your foot slips out completely and you tumble down the car sized vine, landing clumsily on the floor but on your feet all the same.

It’s when you get home it catches up with you.

Your throat feels dry and your skin too hot, clothes claustrophobic as you grab a bottle of water and nearly drain it greedily. Water running over the sides of your mouth and down your neck and chest makes you shudder, it feels intimate, like a lover trailing kisses along your skin.

Your mind takes you to Dick, the way his body was above you and you hum, before remembering you didn’t want to think about him.

There’s the sound of your phone ringing and you pull it out: It says it’s Dick and you consider for a moment before leaving it face down on the counter so you don’t have to see his name or his smiling face.

You don’t want to deal with him right now, you feel… Wrong? Good? It’s a weird amalgamation of the two. There are parts of your body that burn pleasantly, your fingertips tingle and the air around you  feels good on your arms and legs. Your centre starts to hurt, like a cramp, it has you folding over while you groan.

Your phone rings again, you didn’t realise it had stopped.

It’s disrupting your focus on not folding up on the kitchen floor where you stand so you jab the lock button to hang up, and stumble into your bedroom.

The sheets are cool but not cool enough, they heat so quickly and rub against your body until it feels like a cheese grater against your skin. You pant and there’s a pounding on your door, making you open your eyes you hadn’t realised were closed and stopping the hand that’s rubbing pleasantly along your sternum, tracing the ghost of a kiss pressed there.

You hear Dick calling your name through the door and it pulls you out of your reverie, hand somehow already having slipped unbidden under the waistband of your jeans. Shuddering there’s the sensation of pain that no longer licks along the edge of pleasure and you sit up, walking towards the door when another wave of pain has you sliding down a nearby wall, pressing your palms to the cold tile and finding it pleasant enough to lay down and press your flushed cheek against.

Dick finds you like that after picking the lock on your door; panting and breathing too fast, skin too hot as you tremble on the kitchen floor, eyes half lidded and near delirious, and he curses himself for not spotting you trapped by the vines earlier.

Again, he calls your name, and you flinch as you open eyes that are darker and more heated than he wants to see, it looks like you’ve been got bad. He reaches out to you hesitantly and you pull back, pushing yourself up with great effort. He looks hurt by this, and you feel a sense of satisfaction at that.

“What d’you want?” you breathe out, feeling far too hot and uncomfortable in your own skin. That lick of pleasure from earlier has faded, leaving only pain that fuels your hurt; you turn that painful heat into a tool for focus. Dick watches you, body taut as if ready to move in a moment but he gives you space as he kneels a foot away, like you’re a wounded animal ready to lash out… You feel like one.

“You’ve- You were exposed to Poison Ivy’s plant.” He can see the pain across your features, the way your arms shake and you curl in on yourself. There’s a pain in his own voice and he knows he’s fucked up, he fucked up so, so bad and now you’re paying the price. “You need… You need help.”

Help. You think of what that would entail and feel the wetness between your legs saturate your underwear as you groan and curl in more on yourself. “You ghosted me,” the pain you’re feeling is pushed into the words and through grit teeth as you try not to focus on how nice it would feel to have Dick tease through that same wetness with his clever fingers. He hurt you, just as this is hurting you now, a matching pain that you’re only acknowledging at possibly the worst time to do so.

“Please,” Dick can see the danger turning into something more lethal, can see the way your body is overheating, heart beat climbing far too fast to be safe for very long, “We can talk after, I’ve been an idiot, but you need help now.”

He can see you fighting it, it’s impressive and scares him all at once, but you choke out a moan that ends in a pained cry that you cover with a shaking hand, squeezing your eyes shut. It hurts so bad: like the worst cramping you’ve ever had mixed with the worst flu, your whole body aches and feels like it doesn’t fit any more.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, sincere and pained like it’s been pulled from him, “you- I didn’t want to lose you but I want more. I’ve wanted more for a while and it scared me. I didn’t know how to tell you after, didn’t even understand it until after.”

All you can do is shake your head in disbelief as tears gather in your eyes, blurring the sight of him to a wash of colours, or it could be the light-headedness you’re feeling.

“It’s true. I promise.” He moves closer, reaching out tentatively to cup your cheek, fingers skimming the sensitive skin of your throat, as you breathe a sigh of relief that’s half a sob, leaning into his touch with heated skin, “Please let me help you.” He enters your space, his breath across your skin like a caress that causes a shiver of delight and you can feel your body respond, you can’t help but respond.

You don’t see surprise in his eyes when you push forward, fingers slipping through his hair as you kiss him in a way that steals his breath away from his lungs, and he gladly lets you have it if you need it.

You see relief.

You see the tenderness you’ve seen countless times when you’ve caught him watching you on late nights spent watching TV shows that slowly deteriorate through the episodes but still you continue watching because you’re not really watching TV, you’re just enjoying each other’s company.

You see the truth that he wants you, he has wanted you, and he keeps wanting you.

The way his hands barely graze your arms as you lean into him before, with a sucking in of breath and the flutter of his eyes closing, he pulls you against him like you weren’t close enough in the first place, tells you he wants you.

There’s nothing going through your mind after that except the realisation that every nerve in your body is firing where you connect with Dick. His lips taste like electricity and you can feel it soothing everything inside of you that yearns for this, every burning part of you finally quieting down in the wake of his touch.

You gain sanity and you speak between kisses that trail along Dick’s jawline, hear his breath hitch as you suck and nip the sensitive skin. “Don’t leave,” your hand presses against his chest, against his thudding heart, “not after this.”

There’s a desperation in your voice that rivals the one he knows must be consuming you and his arms tighten around you, “Not that stupid, to make the same mistake twice.” There’s resolution in his voice and he stands, pulling you up with him.

“Are you-“ you gasp when he picks you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist and you can feel the length of him pressing against you through your clothes. “-sure about that?” You finish weakly, more moan than words.

“With this: Absolutely.” His hands feel like fire on your thighs, holding you up and burning all at once; close but not close enough to where you crave touch, any touch at all.

It’s not enough and he knows it.

He takes you through your apartment to your bedroom where he lowers you both onto your bedsheets. The weight of his body covering yours is soothing while the press of him where you need him is maddening. You pull at your clothes impatiently, pulling them away until your top half is bare and you tug at his clothes. He sees the flush of your skin and feels the heat of you against him, knows this can’t be the soft and sweet moment he’d like to give you.

There’ll be time for that later.

You watch as Dick pulls back, reaching for him with a pathetic little sound that doesn’t register in your mind as being one you made, and he places a placating hand on your stomach, soothing and promising, as he pulls your pants and underwear down your legs. His knuckles brushing against your thigh and the drag of your clothes has you writhing, the air on your finally-exposed skin feels like a sheet of ice, your nipples perk near painfully as you arch into Dick’s touch.

“Shhh,” he soothes, “I’m going to look after you,” he slips his clothes off and you barely have enough sense in you to wait until he’s bare before you sit up, hands settling on his chest and shoulder as you bend upward towards him, lips parted and heated eyes catching his before your mouth is just above his collarbone.

You can feel his hard and heavy cock resting against your thigh, and wriggle underneath him, impatient for the feel of him splitting you open and pushing deep, “I need it, please,” you murmur almost responding to your own thoughts, he knows what you mean and slides his hand between your bodies, feeling the heat emanating from you as his hand cups your sex, fingers slipping between your puffy soft lips, slick and welcoming. He can’t help but groan at the feeling, especially as he feels you growing wetter and wetter as you writhe, almost lost to the pollen madness because he’s so close to giving you what you need, what you want. “Please,” you whimper, eyes tearing, unseeing through the haze of heat and desire.

“Just a little longer, I promise,” he soothes as he slips one finger inside of you easily, so he adds a second to help the stretch not be so painful, thinking of how you’ll feel come tomorrow. He kisses you, just as hungry for more as you are, but he’s patient, and he knows what you need right now.

His fingers curl and caress inside of you and you gasp into his mouth, eyes locking on his in shock as he does something indescribable with his fingers that has your toes curling and your cunt gushing over his hand as your hips undulate as much as they can below him. When you come back to your body you swallow, mouth dry from the silent scream that had taken your breath away, “again,” you pant, “do that again.”

Dick can barely think, not after watching you fall apart below him as you did; eyes blown and lips reddening as they parted in such a pretty O. When your body relaxes once more he only feels satisfaction and absolute need for you when he hears the wet squelch of his fingers inside of you. When you ask him to do it again he can only comply, and take all of you in as he pushes you to soaking his hand once more, your walls flexing soft then hard around his skilful fingers. Your head falls back, the column of your neck exposed and he presses a kiss to it as you gasp out a sob.

He pulls his fingers out and soothes them over your hole, over your clit and lips, hand wet and slipping deliciously through the folds. Dick tries not to imagine the feel of your thighs around his head as you writhe underneath him and his clever tongue as he tastes you to his satisfaction. His wet hand settles on your inner thigh, gently prying your shaking legs to open for him, and you watch him panting.

His cock, much longer and thicker than his fingers, slides in with the help of your juices, and Dick bottoms out easily, snugly, the wet sound him slipping through your folds has you tightening around his length.

You feel like a live wire, humming with energy, only waiting for the circuit to be closed before you light up. And you do light up.

The tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you swallow a keen as he angles his hips on the drag out to pull across the most sensitive nerves inside of you.

You babble as he starts to piston his hips, the push through you feeling endless, you wonder how you can feel so spent but still need more, still want it: You feel starved for it. Dick looks down at you, your lips moving, trying to find words that you can’t grasp right now, and he sooths a hand across your cheek, giving you sensation to ground yourself in, and you turn your head to take his thumb into your mouth; you shine with sweat and your eyes are lidded and smouldering as you watch him, his thumb in your mouth as your tongue swirls a sinful promise around it. It’s all he can do to grit his teeth and not come right there.

His thrusts become deeper, lingering with each push as you gush around him with each meeting of your hips and you gasp around his thumb, and he pulls it out of your mouth, smearing spit on your lower lip in a filthy caress, “’m gonna- Dick, I’m…”

“Let go, baby, come,” his body angles over you, hair falling over his eyes as he watches you choke out a stilted breath, “that’s it,” he swallows thickly as your hips quake and your cunt tightens around his cock. When your back arches and you cry out he lets himself go, you can vaguely feel the heat of his cum spilling out of you as he continues thrusting through both of your orgasms.

Your body trembles in the aftershocks, but you feel cooler, less tightly wound, like your heart is finally beating in your chest as it should.

Above you, Dick huffs out a breath against your chest, pressing a kiss against the sweat flushed skin.

His body is warm underneath your hands that rest on his waist as you sag into your bed, spent in all the right ways you feel sticky and fulfilled. For a moment you worry that he is moving to leave, to get dressed and walk away while you’re floating away like he did last time but instead he shifts to lay beside you and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead: Somehow it’s just as intimate as the culmination of all you’ve just done together.

“You wont leave?” you ask, tired but holding on as your eyes threaten to start drooping.

Dick presses his lips to your forehead again as he pulls you close, nose brushing against your hair, “No, I promise,” he murmurs, “if you’re happy for me to stay…”

“Stay,” you breathe, fingers lazily tracing the column of his neck down to his collarbones. He hums, pulling you tighter to him, tucking you close. You fall into sleep, knowing when you wake up he’ll be there this time, and you’ll talk and it will be emotional and deep, and you’ll have sex again and something wonderful will blossom, but for now you sleep.