#nightwingstarfire

Nightwing blinked blearily at his bedside table and ran a hand through his tousled hair. 3 am. Wonderful. Fucking perfect. Another night of insomnia. He wrinkled his nose, rolled onto his back and heaved in a sigh.

Well, he decided. No point lying around in bed if his body refused to sleep. May as well get up and have a drink. Warm milk, perhaps. A cookie. Yeah, a late night snack, that might be a good idea. Grabbing his book from his bedside table, he thought he might have half a chance to get some chapters done while he was waiting for the milk to work.

Wandering down the darkened hallways toward the common room, he was surprised to see the sliver of light darting out from beneath the door. He expected to be the only one in the common room at such a late hour.

As the door slid open, his cheeks went pink at the sight of orange toned legs belonging to his girlfriend draped over the back of the chair. “Starfire?”

She squealed, threw herself from the couch and pegged her book at him in surprise. He caught the book one handed, holding up both of them in supplication. The room briefly flash green as she summoned her starbolts. “Oh!” she squeaked when she saw him. “Nightwing. My apologies.”

“Startled you, huh? Sorry. What are you doing up?”

“I could not sleep,” she replied.

“Me either.”

“Perhaps you would like to partake in the traditional-”

“Milk and cookies,” Nightwing said, interrupting her. The last thing he wanted was to burn his stomach sampling Starfire's traditional remedies. “I'd prefer milk and cookies.”

She gave him an endearing smile and reached down to the couch, bringing up a plate laden with chocolate chip cookies. “I believe the Earthen remedy to be much better than the Tamaranian one.”

He laughed.

“Will you join me?” she asked.

“Sounds like fun,” he replied and tossed her book back at her. Fetching himself a warm milk, he sat down on the couch beside her and stole a cookie.

Starfire giggled and raised her book up to her face to hide the blush.

Nightwing slid down on the seat so his head was resting on the back and his butt was nearly to the edge and plonked his feet up on the table in front of them. He watched Starfire out of the corner of his eye. “Good book?”

Her eyes focused ever so briefly on the words, before she was shooting him glances again. “Yes.”

“Good to hear it,” Nightwing said and patted his stomach in invitation. “C'mon, lie down.”

She blinked at him.

“May as well be comfortable,” Nightwing said, “And you prefer to be upside down.”

With a nod, Starfire twisted on the couch, placing her head on Nightwing's lap and threw her legs over the back of the curved section of the couch.

“That's better,” Nightwing said and lifted his book up so he could see it.

Not that he read it at all, preferring to run his fingers through Starfire's hair and watch her blushy reactions, but when he finally focused on the words, he recoiled in surprise.

It wasn't anything like what he remembered his book to be about. Since when did Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's book have sex in it?

Detailed sex. Written in the Tamaranian language. Far more vividly than he could ever imagine.

He flipped the book closed so he could look at the cover.

“Oh...”

“What is wrong?” Starfire asked, peering up at him curiously. She'd been half asleep and certainly not reading.

“Nothing,” he said, nonchalantly returning to the page he was at to read on. “So. You like having your snecklette lightly femspakled, huh?”

Starfire eeped. “What?”

“Or perhaps I can bungalore your dysilk'r.”

“What?”

“How about I blow softly on your destle?”

“Dick!” she admonished, her face flaming. She sat up, completely flustered. She kept casting his sideways glances, her hand patting her chest lightly. “You have never spoken like this before.”

He took pity on her. Grinning, he showed her the cover of the book. “I think this is yours.”

She gaped at him.

Still grinning, he stood, picked up the plate of cookies and took his book back from her. “Really Starfire. I never would have guessed.”

“Umm...”

Strolling toward the door, he called over his shoulder. “If you find any particular passage intriguing, perhaps you could mark it and-”