Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/974265.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon)
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Dark, Angst, Anal_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-21 Words: 1959
****** Jailbait ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     A prompt from the YJ_anon_meme, asking for Bruce/Dick with a side of
     angst. Inappropriate as hell.
This is the sort of crime a man can go to jail for.
Delicate legs straddling his hips, a tired smile on that face with heavy eyes
as he slides his body forward, with a small whine as he presses his groin
against him; pressure against pressure, heat against heat. Bruce feels the
unique sensation, a hard cock bursting at the seams behind those tight pants,
teasing as he feels it prod and move from between his legs up to his lower
stomach as that body slides, leans in with an anxious breath, “Please.”
The boy doesn’t wait for an answer; he’s slowly rocking his hips, that
delicious friction.
This is the kind of crime a man could go to jail for.
But he wouldn’t; he knows that. Because of who he is, he can hide behind his
identity. He can hide behind a mask. He can do whatever he wants, whatever
illicit and horrible thing that springs to mind, because he is the goddamn
Batman and no one on Earth would think to question him or his ethics.
But that doesn’t make it right. That doesn’t make it noble.
Gentle kisses on his face, small kissing noises, soft and wet lips meeting his
rough skin. Hands digging into his shoulders, delicate fingers scrambling to
slide beneath his collar. They dance across his neck, and he flinches away
instinctively; it’s a sensitive spot. But even when he flinches his body
responds, responding and shifting and he’s getting hard.
Bruce never knew someone so small could feel so warm; so inviting, relaxed and
comforting like a lover, as the boy winds his arms around him, clasping his
hands together behind his back. A kiss to the corner of his lips as his legs
buckle, just slightly, just enough to nudge himself even closer; erection
against erection, hard cocks prodding into each other with only fabric as a
barrier. And the boy’s breathing heavy, his eyes are closing, his body’s
shaking with a slow tremble.
Bruce raises a hand to his face; lightly at first, then with more certainty, as
he remembers how smooth his skin is, how beautiful. Those eyes look up at him
with a sudden shock, eyelashes fluttering as the boy’s lips curl into an
impulsive grin, a hopeful grin that becomes a smile as he rests his fingers
there for a moment. The boy remains still; perfectly still for a suspended
moment in time, as Bruce finally makes the decision to move in.
He leans in for a kiss, a gentle one as the boy meets him half-way, closing his
eyes as he relaxes against him, establishing contact from his lower chest to
his legs, tightly settled around his body, feet sprawled to either side of his
thighs.
Bruce slides a hand down his back, feeling his small frame tremble beneath his
touch. The kiss deepens when the boy’s mouth opens, eager lips darting out an
anxious tongue that’s sweet and smooth and warm. His opposite hand, coming to
rest at the boy’s waist; he gasps into his mouth, panting as he pushes himself
forward again, pressing their cocks together so hard that Bruce feels a
noticeable twitch of his own. He’s hardening, he’s hardening up; his hands
roaming as he pushes his tongue into the boy’s mouth, mouths crushing together,
tongues colliding, exchanging breaths and hot air.
The boy’s rocking in his lap, rocking his body as he grinds himself down as
hard as he can, moaning and whimpering as he closes his eyes, rocking, moaning,
whining, as he pants into their kiss, wanting to drown in the way Bruce tastes,
his cock so hard down there, his body so warm, his hands so strong, his touch
so firm-
This isn’t noble. This isn’t right.
This is the kind of sin a man could go to Hell for.
The boy is almost crying; he’s almost crying. The kind of pleasure that flirts
with pain, the deep ache of needing release, needing to come so badly and not
knowing how to achieve it. It’s blissfully erotic, his frustration. It’s
blissfully naughty, his face flushed, his eyes slowly opening to stare deeply
into his own, his tongue slowing down, his lips shining and coated with his own
spit when he pulls back to breathe.
Another whine, “Please.”
“Please what, Dick.”
“Please… help,” a half-spoken sigh, he buckles his legs down again; Bruce
frowns to himself when he feels the sudden spark of arousal, like his cock has
finally realized the magnitude of what’s going on.
It’s not noble; it’s not right.
But he’d never turn him down.
Pants being discarded, tugged all the way down to reveal smooth, slender legs
that soon straddle his waist. A smooth chest, a body that’s fragile and
beautiful, slender arms that drape around his neck; a beautiful face now
obscured from view as he leans against Bruce's shoulder, panting desperately in
shallow and hot breaths.
That sound of frantic breathing, interrupted with the occasional whimper of
pain as Bruce pushes himself inside him; inside a body that can barely
accommodate his size. It’s a tight fit, but the boy can handle it. He’s done it
before.
Bruce purchased this ticket to Hell a few months ago. This time around is just
a birthday gift.
“Alright,” his voice quiet and patient, “Move for me.”
He feels the boy nod, with a small sound of acknowledgement as he starts to
lift his hips, hips that are so delicate he can see the edge of his bones
protruding from them, resting his fingers against the curve of his waist; those
legs buckle and roll down, buckle and roll down, buckle and roll down, and the
boy is whimpering again, a slow and steady, “Mm,” that becomes an “Ah,” as he
increases the frequency.
Bruce knows how to time his thrusts right; every time the boy moves down, Bruce
thrusts to give him the full length of his cock, and Dick starts to moan every
time it makes contact with his prostate. Even if he doesn’t know what exactly
that is yet, or why that spot feels so good, it’s enough to make him whine and
start to moan, voicing a faint suggestion of the man’s name before Bruce
murmurs a quiet “Shh,” and hushes him with another kiss.
He doesn’t mind the sex; he’s learned to accept it. This is what he does. He is
a horrible, vile person and this is what he does. He has sex with a boy that’s
around half his age. He has sex with a boy that once considered him his father.
But he doesn’t like to hear his own name; not from that mouth. Somehow, hearing
his name said like that, voiced in between a half-pant and a trembling whine,
feels like a personal invitation into the heart of darkness. Moral corruption.
Desire that he wouldn’t be able to control.
The kind of desire that wouldn’t ever let go. The kind of desire that meant
he’d never be able to stop…
There’s something sweet and generous about a kiss with Dick. His hips are
rocking as Bruce feels his stiff cock nudging against his stomach every time he
buckles down. But his lips are soft and his mouth is warm and his face is
incredibly serene; his eyes are closing, eyelashes heavy and beautiful. The
texture of his skin, when Bruce trails a hand along the base of his jaw; smooth
and soft, soft and delicate like the rest of him.
When that hand relocates to the boy’s cock, grasping and tugging against it as
the boy bounces in his lap, Dick’s crying out against his lips, voice breaking
with a startled protest that’s more startled than genuine. He always says an
instinctive “No” at first; and his No becomes a Yes by the time the sound
escapes. Bruce asks him for reassurance, “Are you alright,” and he receives a
reassuring nod, those eyes still closed, as those arms wind tighter around his
shoulders, and the boy leans in again, face pressing against his neck. He feels
him breathing unevenly, the pace of their sex slowing down as his hand fondles
the boy’s cock, caressing the head as it starts to drip with pre-cum. He
thrusts a little slower; but pushes in deeper, as deep as he can manage as the
boy starts to sigh with each one, sighing and exhaling wistfully as his lips
part and a fragile series of sounds start to escape. Sounds of pleasure, a
delicate whisper of, “Yes,” over and over. Yes, over and over. Yes…
His hand buried in Bruce’s hair, he tenses up as he starts to shiver, his legs
locking in place. He murmurs another Yes that becomes a moan; the man finally
lets him say his name. “Bruce,” he trembles and spills ejaculate over the man’s
hand. He continues to rock himself gently in Bruce’s lap as he rides out his
orgasm, trailing his parted lips across the man’s jaw in a desperate attempt at
a kiss that doesn’t make contact properly.
Bruce turns in towards him, meeting him with a quick lick between his lips,
It’s okay, as their mouths merge again, It’s okay, exchanging hot breaths and
swallowing each other’s spit and caressing each other’s tongues like a pair of
lovers, It’s okay, Bruce continues to thrust into him, continues to thrust into
this delicate boy who understands, understands, understands; It’s okay.
“I don’t mind,” Dick had said before, the first time they did this. “I don’t
mind when you do that to me.”
It’s okay, his body is so hot, so hot, so hot; it’s so hot here inside him.
“I… like it, so,” he’d even smiled. “It’s okay.”
Bruce’s fingers tracing the contours of Dick’s face, up to the soft curves
beneath his eyes. The warmth near his ears, a rough trace of a scar just below
his chin. His beautiful boy, scarred and cut up, it’s all his fault; it’s all
his fault.
It’s okay, he frowns to himself as he nears the edge. He’s nearing the edge;
the boy is exhausted, but he’s still feeling the persistent ache of pleasure,
as an occasional and pleasant sigh escapes. Obedient as always, he lets him
fuck him until he’s satisfied. He lets the man fuck him until he comes, comes
inside him irresponsibly because he forgot to wear a condom, because this boy
fucks with his brain and all his common sense.
When their kiss is broken, Dick leans back with a slight wince on his face; he
doesn’t like how that feels. He doesn’t like the feel of cum inside him; he
says it’s awkward and thick and it’s hard to wash out. But he’s not angry, or
annoyed. He’s nothing but calm and tired. He gives Bruce a gentle smile and
leans forward to give him a short and sweet kiss on the lips.
The small and delicate sound of a small and delicate kiss.
It’s okay.
When he kisses Dick back, kisses him right back, he can’t say even a fraction
of what he feels.
He’s not a good man, and he commits the kind of crime a man could go to jail
for. He commits a sin a man could go to Hell for. But he’s not a monster.
He’s not a monster.
He may go to Hell, but he would die for him. He would kill for him. He will
sacrifice his soul if that’s what it takes. If that’s what’s necessary.
Because he loves him. He loves his boy.
And when he murmurs a quiet, “Happy birthday,” he means it.
Because Dick’s small, exhausted laugh is the greatest sound in the entire
world.
It fills his soul with joy.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!