Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/50712.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DC_Comics
  Relationship:
      Batman/Robin_I, Bruce_Wayne/Dick_Grayson
  Character:
      Bruce_Wayne, Dick_Grayson
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-14 Words: 2622
****** Past the Morning Star ******
by Rubynye
Summary
     "Your birthday, Robin."
Title: Past the Morning Star
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17. Slightly kinky.
Written For: The Lord_King_Bad_Fanfic_Challenge.
Pairing: Batman/Robin I (Bruce/Dick)
Summary: "Your birthday, Robin."
Based On:
[[info]]
maelithil's photoessay,specifically this_picture. Despite that, this isn't pre-
[last]Crisis.
Warnings: I left Dick's age unspecified. Decide how old he has to be for you to
read this.
All Thanks To: [[info]]maelithil for audiencing, [[info]]petronelle for looking
the story over and [[info]]sageness for beta-reading.
Disclaimer: They're DC Comics' , not mine.
 
It was an unseasonably cold winter. Gotham was frozen over beneath a layer of
grimy slush, and the wind howled down the concrete corridors like the legendary
banshee. It howled through Dick's winter suit, and he would've thought it must
be freezing the criminals, too, if they hadn't still been out there. So were
the hookers, and Dick was really, really disenchanted with pulling girls
younger than him out of snowdrifts. Although it was always kind of cute when
they grogglily tried to kiss him.
It had been an extra-long, extra-dreary, extra-everything week, and last night
Bruce made Dick take the evening off and Dick was too tired to protest, much.
"You'll need to be well rested tomorrow," Bruce said mysteriously, with that
little wrinkle at the side of his mouth that was a teasing sort of smile, and
Dick couldn't get anything else out of him. Finally Dick mumbled, "Don't slip
and fall off any roofs," as he gave up, flopping down into the bed.
"I'll be careful," Bruce replied, and Dick was nearly asleep before he realized
Bruce had actually promised him something. He almost sat up, but the bed was so
warm and he really was tired.
Much, much later, later than they usually got home, Dick feels the bed shift as
Bruce climbs in, slowly and haltingly. He slides closer, tucking himself
against Bruce's side, and Bruce drapes an arm heavily around him and lies
still. Dick's in the middle of trying to decide what to say, whether it should
be from Dick or Robin, when he falls asleep again.
It's morning, late enough to be bright, when Dick dimly notices Alfred saying
something to Bruce; he's about to turn over and sleep as much longer as he can
when Bruce's hand on his wrist wakes him up to full alert.
"Are you going to sleep all day?" Bruce murmurs. He knows Dick is awake. He'd
know even without having his thumb on Dick's pulse. Which means that the
question is really something else.
"What day is it?" Dick asks, or starts to ask. He opens his eyes halfway, and
Bruce is-- smiling at him. Actually smiling at him. On the way to rub his eyes
Dick pinches his own cheek to make sure he isn't dreaming.
"Your birthday, Robin," Bruce says, in a voice that's Batman enough to make
Dick pay special attention and warm enough to make him shiver, a little ripple
of heat running down his spine.
"It was difficult," Bruce goes on, thumb stroking up and down Dick's wrist, "to
decide what to get for your birthday. So I indulged myself as well, and your
gift just arrived this morning." Bruce reaches behind himself. "I'm sure you'll
forgive me for unwrapping it for you."
Dick nods. He'd forgive Bruce anything. And really, right now, he's not up to
much more than blinking in surprise. Then his mouth falls open, because what
Bruce lifts into view is a shiny little assortment of silvery wires and
thumbtip-sized pads. Dick knows what those pads are, and that the control box
is securely tucked into Bruce's palm.
"Oh, God," Dick gasps, before he can think. Bruce smiles a little wider, but
his eyes narrow.
"Oh. Uh. Thank you," he finally manages, and after a moment, "Bruce?"
Bruce just smiles at the question, a wide tight-lipped line. "You've changed
this past year, Robin." Dick's skin is prickling inside the pajamas he's
beginning to want to take off. "I've noticed how you've grown. Your maturity,
your fortitude, are quite exceptional."
Bruce is -- Batman is -- praising Dick. That has to be the birthday present.
Even more than the, um, toy in Bruce's hand.
Bruce tugs his wrist, the tiniest bit, and Dick manages to not throw himself on
him and instead just slides closer. This brings his legs up against Bruce's,
hot under the blankets. Dick doesn't wrap his legs around Bruce's thighs,
because Bruce obviously has a plan. But he wants to. He really really wants to.
He concentrates on the pattern of his breathing, and the look on Bruce's face.
"I found," Bruce continues, slowly, letting the toy dangle from his hand, "that
I was curious about the extent to which your endurance has developed." He's
looking at Dick so intensely that meeting his gaze is like staring at a bright
light. "Tell me what this is."
That was in complete, breathtaking Batman voice. Dick can almost feel the
armor, the cape. He can almost see the cowl dark over Bruce's sunlit face.
"It's, a, um--" He would. He so would. Bruce's smile widens as Dick's blush
spreads, and Dick hates him and loves him and clutches the blanket to keep from
punching him. "A vibrator." Bruce's eyebrows come down. "A set of them."
Bruce just looks at him, so Dick adds, "um, I don't know the brand name," and
that gets him a smile with glints of teeth.
"That was correct." Bruce lets go of Dick's wrist, which feels cold without
Bruce's hand around it. But then he cups Dick's face in his hand, pressing just
enough so Dick can feel the strength in it.
Dick would gasp, if he had any air to gasp with. He doesn't, because he might
have forgotten to breathe, but he's too busy to think about it. Too busy
feeling every square millimeter of Bruce's hand on his face, curving to his
cheek, thumb stroking his chin and then over his bottom lip as Bruce tells him,
"I was watching you speak."
Dick shakes from head to toe. He can't help it. Bruce presses his lip, and he
purses them both around Bruce's thumb. When he starts to suck Bruce shifts
himself over Dick, casting a deep warm shadow in the morning sunlight. He lifts
the softly jangling vibrator assembly past Dick's head, and Dick would look,
but Bruce is looking at his eyes. So Dick can't look away.
Bruce unbuttons his pajama top, and pushes it off his chest with one slow
stroke across Dick's nipples, and Dick tries hard to swallow that whimper. He
peels Dick's pajamas off, top and bottom, smiling into Dick's eyes the whole
time. Dick... the part of him that tries to keep thinking all the time wonders
faintly if Bruce learned how to hypnotize with his stare, thinks vaguely of
birds charmed by predators, but that comparison falls down because Bruce would
never hurt Dick. Everything he asks of Dick makes him better.
Dick twitches a little when something cool and smooth snaps around his cock;
it's not really as tight as Dick would've expected, just enough to hold the
main vibrator against his skin. He hadn't even seen Bruce pick it back up.
Bruce pulls his thumb out of Dick's mouth, trailing it wet across his cheek as
he curls his fingers behind Dick's head and lifts.
Dick figures that means he can jump.
Bruce kisses him hard and hot and deep, and Dick winds his arms around Bruce's
neck and kisses back and doesn't shake as Bruce's unerring fingers attach
clingy pads either side of his sac and beneath it. But he can't not shake,
can't not yelp against Bruce's tongue, when Bruce switches it on. The buzz
shivers through him, and he's never been so hard in his life and he's going to
want to come in about five seconds. He's twisting before he even realizes it.
Bruce folds a hand around his shoulder and pushes him out of the kiss, pushes
him down to the bed. "Easy."
Bruce is still and solid and smiling, and Dick's got a buzzing set of vibrators
all over his cock and balls. This might be the best way to die ever.
"Easy," Bruce says again, stroking Dick's forehead, and Dick bites his llip and
tries really, really hard to lie still, till Bruce's eyes glint approval.
"If I asked you," Bruce says, slowly again, and God, Dick wants to move, to
come, his cock feels like it'll break off, "if I asked you not to come for five
minutes, could you do it?"
Bruce wants him to. So Dick nods jerkily.
And Bruce grins. He actually grins. It's better than a kiss. He kisses Dick
like a reward, pulling him against his broad, broad chest with an arm beneath
his back. He slides the other hand down Dick's arm, pressing his clutching fist
out flat, and the vibrator buzzes mercilessly. Dick's cock brushes across the
hard planes of Bruce's belly and the effort of not coming makes him sob.
Dick wants to beg, to squirm, to shout. He puts it all into the kiss, and Bruce
presses him against the bed and kisses him hard and twines their fingers
together, tongue pushing in Dick's mouth in a complicated pulse. Dick presses
his fingers into the short hair at Bruce's nape and tries to kiss Bruce back,
tries to breathe through his nose, tries to think. He tries to be more than the
orgasm he's desperately holding back and the toy vibrating him into jelly from
his aching cock and balls outward.
Just when Dick is maybe, maybe getting his breathing under control, getting his
tongue to move in some kind of rhythm, getting his brain to work again, he
feels Bruce's knuckles move against his back and the vibrators speed up. Dick
doesn't even mean to bite Bruce's lip, though he deserves it. It's just that
his jaw clenches because he goes rigid because if he doesn't he's going to
writhe. God. It's like torture, but it feels good, but it's too much to even
feel good.
Bruce chuckles against his mouth, and Dick can feel the laugh rumbling in
Bruce's chest, and he just--- he can't--- he---
He actually passed out. Bruce is leaning on his elbow, holding Dick against his
chest, and Dick feels like he's been tasered, but in a good way, like every
cell in his body is faintly glowing.
It takes him several tries to say "oh," and other words are still just not
happening. Bruce slides a hand up his cheek into his hair, kisses his forehead,
and tilts his head back to look into his face. "You lost track of time, Dick,"
Bruce says, smiling. "At five and a half minutes I changed the setting."
"I-- I made it?"
Halfway through being kissed Dick finally starts laughing. He pounds on Bruce's
shoulders till Bruce lets him up. "You--- oh, Bruce. You are a jerk." Bruce
looks almost delighted. "I shouldn't want you to fuck me."
Bruce kisses Dick's ear, his jaw, down along the big blood vessel in his neck.
"It's your birthday. You can have anything you want." His lips brush Dick's
collarbone as he hitches Dick's leg up over his hip. Dick laughs, already
gasping, pounding his heel on Bruce's back and yanking lightly on his hair.
"I want-- I want--" Dick can't choose between "you to know how hard that was"
and "you to know how incredible that was" and "you to know how much I love
you", but it's not like he can say anything when Bruce bites his nipple just
perfectly hard, and sucks a hickey just beneath his ribs, and trails kisses the
rest of the way down.
He really can't say anything when Bruce licks his bellybutton, and his lower
belly, in big wide hot stripes. He can't even breathe when Bruce licks the head
of his dick and sucks on it and sucks him all the way down, and when he can
breathe it's because he's already screaming. Bruce sucks him, hard and
implacable, and Dick hangs onto his hair and thrusts into his mouth because
Bruce wants everything from him and he doesn't have to hold back.
He might be cursing when Bruce turns the vibrator on again, or screaming, or
sobbing. The part of his brain that's always on is shorting out, and he can't
stop writhing in pleasure long enough to hear himself, can't do anything but
come like an explosion of antigravity.
And Bruce is over him, blocking out the sunlight, and Bruce is pushing into
him, feeling like the whole world; Dick clings with his thighs and his arms
around Bruce's scar-ridged ribs and forces himself to breathe, pushing his
chest against Bruce's. Breathe, and relax, and think, and---
Bruce licks the side of Dick's face, the corner of his eye, and Dick's breath
whooshes out in a surprised gasp. "Beautiful." Bruce's lips brush his cheek,
and Dick blindly turns his face towards Bruce's mouth, but Bruce pulls out of
reach and pushes into him harder and that was a really loud yelp, but Dick
can't think to be embarrassed. He can't do anything but feel, Bruce and the
vibrator and Bruce who's fucking him faster, now, and harder, pushing Dick down
against the floatiness, pushing airless huffs of noise out of him.
Bruce is murmuring, thrust and gasp and murmur and thrust, and Dick can't hear
what he's saying but it's the same warm tone as that "beautiful" was in, and
it's all so intense it hurts a little and it's too much to even make him come
again. Dick could never be still for this, rolling his hips to meet Bruce,
pushing to make him come. He wants Bruce to feel as wonderful and weightless
and buzzed as he does. He wants this to go on forever, Bruce inside him and
breathing muffled warmth into his ear, but it's building and rising and Dick
couldn't push it back if he wanted to. He'd never want to.
"Dick," Bruce gasps, teeth clicking shut on his groan as he slams into Dick and
comes in long shudders like earthquakes through stone. Dick wants to say
"Bruce," he probably should at least say, "yes," but all he can do is shake and
press his face to Bruce's neck, grounding himself in Bruce's solidity. He can
feel Bruce's pulse beating against his forehead, Bruce's arms locked to either
side of him, each deep fast breath shifting him.
Eventually Dick realizes his back's only barely brushing the sheets. Bruce is
holding both of them up. He takes a deep breath and peels off Bruce enough to
sink into the bed; just in time, too, because he's suddenly exhausted. His
eyelids and his arms are really heavy, he's thrumming and sore and all he wants
to do is curl up against Bruce's chest.
Bruce lies down carefully beside Dick, a hand light on his cheek, and Dick
turns his heavy head enough to kiss the ball of Bruce's thumb. He wants to tell
Bruce how wonderful his birthday present was, but he feels too melted and warm
to talk. And when Bruce pulls up the blankets and starts stroking Dick's hair,
it's not like he needs to say anything. Bruce knows. He always knows.
So he lets his eyes stay closed, lets himself doze as Bruce peels the vibrator
pads off him; his skin's so damp they just about slide off. As he falls asleep,
listening to Bruce's warm quiet breathing and the whisper of strong fingers
through his hair, Dick dimly wonders if when they finally get up for breakfast
there'll be pancakes.
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