Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5090567.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_vs._Robin_(2015), Batman_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Damian_Wayne
  Character:
      Damian_Wayne, Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Pseudo-Incest, Finding_Oneself, Theft, Masturbation, Scent_Kink, Armpit
      Kink, Confessions, Love_Confessions, First_Time, Mutual_Masturbation,
      Romance, Anal_Sex, Angst, Monks, Religion
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-27 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 19866
****** Scattered Voices ******
by cadkitten
Summary
     Damian has to take time to find his own voice amongst the others
     rattling around in his mind. Taking all the time needed to sort
     himself out, he comes back to a world he finally fits into, a place
     he belongs far more than he ever did before.
Notes
     Imagine the sound of a train on railroad tracks... That's my train.
     Beta_Readers: sakura_ame
     Song[s]: "砂の色" by アネモネ & "Unsteady" by X Ambassadors
***** Chapter 1 *****
Exhaustion framed the lines of Dick's face, furthering the pull of the frown
lines around his mouth, deepening the bags under his eyes. They'd been going
hard for three days trying to mop up the hell of a mess that had nearly been
all of their downfalls. But that was usual, wasn't it? It seemed every corner
they turned, there was always a newer and stronger villain; someone else to try
to destroy them all, from within or without. It just always hurt worse when it
was from within, especially when it was like this... when it nearly cost them
family, friend, and future.
Damian settled back against the damp wall of the cave, his arms loosely clasped
over his chest. His eyes were on every single move Dick and Bruce made. He knew
he should leave... knew it was in his best interest to go where Bruce had told
him to. Off to see the monks... off to find himself inside of his oh so messed
up head. Yeah... he knew it was a damn mess up in there, everyone did. But he
supposed that happened when you were raised in a world where killing was second
nature and then shoved into a world where you had to hold back those urges
you'd had since you were able to walk on your own two feet, able to hold a
weapon in your hands... able to fight.
Pushing the turmoil from his mind, he wet his lips and went back to watching
Dick. Bruce - his father, he really needed to start thinking of him that way -
was logging reports. Always reports with that man. He understood the need for
information, but sometimes he had to think Bruce took it a step or two too far.
Especially when he probably needed to be laid up in a bed somewhere from being
nearly killed hours ago. But no, the stubborn ass was tapping away at his
computer.
Damian spared Bruce one last glance and then focused on Dick. He supposed he
was sort of like a brother. After all, he had been Bruce's ward. Had, perhaps,
being the operative word. Now that he was Nightwing, he was out on his own,
usually not even within Gotham, honestly. Damian had taken a few short trips
out to see Dick's territory, to assess his style when he was alone versus when
he was out with Bruce, something he'd seen plenty of clips of. He and Bruce
worked together like one solid unit, two pieces of the exact same machine,
whereas Damian and Bruce were more functional when not engaged on the same side
of a battle. They did their own things, tread their own ways. Maybe that wasn't
surprising either. After all, from what he'd been able to tell, Talia and Bruce
had been lovers in much the sense of how oil and fire complimented one another.
Dangerous, but effective. Not even remotely the same thing, but compatible.
He took in a faint breath and watched Dick pack the rest of his shredded up
suit into the side pouch of his bike. Oh how Damian adored that bike... all
sleek black and blue, the black sliding between matte and glossy and the lights
on the undercarriage the same blue as Nightwing's suit. The handlebars were the
same color, as were the tailpipes, twin beauties that made the bike softer
instead of louder. It was a feat of mechanics just to exist with the pure power
and lack of fuel consumption and Damian adored it. He'd thought about using it
sometimes, whenever Nightwing set off on his line and Damian was crouched
somewhere nearby. He could just ride it away and get it returned before Dick
realized it was gone. Surely the former boy wonder wouldn't notice a few extra
miles... but the problem wasn't that. It was that he knew once he was on it,
he'd never want to give it up. The feeling of power between his thighs, the
intensity of the whole thing. It could prove to be an extraordinary addiction,
he was certain.
Dick was talking... Damian forced himself to tune into the conversation rather
than simply the thoughts in his mind.
"-uld stay the night? I know I should go back, but..." Dick trailed off and
Bruce's response was the exact one Damian could have told Dick it would be. He
reached and hit the com button, asking Alfred to make up another room for the
night. Damian almost wanted to wince. Had Dick known his old room hadn't
remained as he'd left it? He snapped his gaze to Dick's face, studying his
eyes, the muscles in his jaw... then his respiration. Okay, no... he was
alright with that. Maybe he even expected it.
Dick headed up the stairs and Damian pushed himself away from the wall, a tiny
flap of his cape and then he was standing behind Bruce's chair. His eyes
studied the screen, the input his father was making into the databanks. From
inside the little sewn in pocket on his cape, he extracted a single ID card and
tossed it on the console. "One of the ones who escaped... a member." When Bruce
turned to look at him, he shrugged. "She... dropped it."
Bruce's face said 'sure she did' while his mouth said absolutely nothing at
all. He wasn't going to torment him anymore tonight, Damian knew that. Maybe it
was why he was giving up his information so easily. "I'm leaving." He didn't
say where, didn't tell Bruce he'd go to the monks as he'd suggested. He would,
of course. Anything that would teach him blessed silence from the myriad of
people inside his head was a good bet for him at the moment. But he need not
tell Bruce how right he was. Maybe that was the petulant child in him
speaking... and yes, he could admit he wasn't past that stage in his life just
yet. Not in the least. Maybe he never would be, but he had more of a prayer of
finding out who he was without being here, in the midst of this mess.
Bruce's hand on his arm, the light squeeze before he let go was more
significant than any words he could have conjured up right then. Damian gave
the hand on his arm a considering look before placing one of his own on his
father's shoulder. A small squeeze as he started to walk away, letting it ghost
off his shoulder as he made his way upstairs, toward his bedroom. Rest and then
he'd leave in the morning. Maybe Alfred would even give him a pack to get him
going.
---
Three hours found Damian still staring at the ceiling of his room. Sleep simply
wouldn't come to him, something left nagging in the back of his mind that he
couldn't quite put to rest. Thoughts of how condescending he'd been to Dick
swam in his mind, how he'd insulted him at every turn since he'd gotten here.
And yet, the older pseudo-Wayne had done nothing but continue to try to help
him in the only ways he knew how. He'd taught him moves Bruce had seemed to
purposely keep from him, showed him how to even best Bruce in a few things.
Granted, he'd done his share of accidentally training Dick on a few things as
well. It was hard not to learn things from someone you were simply sparring
with, he supposed, and he was never one to hold back something just because
someone else didn't know how to do it. Best it or don't bother.
He gave the clock on his nightstand another glance and then rolled out of his
bed. Maybe he'd... not apologize... but try to leave on better terms. He'd sort
of made up with Bruce, so maybe it was best to leave on better terms with Dick
as well.
Slipping into the hallway, he waited, listening for where sounds were coming
from inside the house. Bruce's room was silent, meaning he was still in the
cave and he could hear the faint rustle of newspaper from down below, which
would be Alfred. He crept along the hallway, pausing by each door and
listening. Finding the only one he could fathom was the correct one, he
unlatched the door and slipped into the darkened room, sliding the door shut
behind him.
Dick, true to his word of having been exhausted, was sprawled out on the bed,
covers only half over his body, completely dead to the world. Damian crept over
to the plush chair beside his bed and slid onto it, pulling his feet up and
resting his chin on his knees as he watched Dick sleep. There was something
much more peaceful about the other when he was passed out cold like this. No
threat, no determination... just existence. He was almost fragile in his sleep
rather than being the presence he was when he was awake. Damian held enough
understanding of Dick's past that he knew he could have easily been the one of
the two of them who had become a murderer at a young age. But Bruce had saved
him... saved him where he hadn't even known to try to save Damian.
He rested his cheek on his knees and let his eyelids hood just the slightest,
watching Dick through his eyelashes. The rise and fall of his chest, the way
his right hand twitched every once in a while. He was dreaming, though Damian
wasn't sure what about, not enough information provided in the little twitches.
His eyes slid over Dick's features, the clench of his jaw, even when he was
asleep, the flick of his eyes behind his eyelids... even the press of his lips
into a thin little line every once in a while. A low groan bubbled up from Dick
and his left hand lashed out, fist punching air and then falling back against
the bed. His body went mostly lax and his jaw relaxed. So... a fight then, or
bad dreams. He could only assume after losing his parents, Dick might have
nightmares about such things. After all, no one was immune to such things. Not
even Bruce... not even Talia.
Dick shifted, curling up on his side, his arms wrapping around his body like he
was cold. When Dick made no move for the covers, Damian took pity on him
getting up and reaching to hook the blanket up and pull it up over his
shoulders and then down over his feet. He stood there for a moment, just gazing
at his sleeping form before he breathed out, "You taught me what you could and
I listened. I may have been a jerk about it... but I listened." It was as close
to an apology as he could get for now. Reaching out, he laid his hand on Dick's
bicep and gave it a little squeeze, turning to pull away, fingertips gliding
over his arm.
Dick's hand encircled his wrist, thumb lightly stroking over the inside of his
wrist. "Find yourself... and when you do, we'll still be here." His voice was
sleep-laden and deeper than usual. It held a disused quality to it that made
his words seem more expressive than maybe they really were. All the same,
Damian applied a light pressure to Dick's arm again and murmured, "I know,"
before pulling away entirely, padding out of the room. He knew Dick wouldn't
ask why he'd been in there or how long. For all Damian knew, Dick had known
from the moment he stepped in and just enabled himself to sleep through it. He
closed the door, leaning back against it for a moment before giving the hallway
a sad look.
This was it... the end of the road for him here. Sleep wasn't going to come
tonight and staying only wasted time.
Even as he packed his own bag, filled with non-spoiling rations and warmer
clothing for his journey, he knew he'd not look back until he was done. He
wrote a note and slid it under Dick's door and then headed downstairs just
after Bruce headed up toward his bedroom for the night. Pulling the keys from
the side-pouch, he swung his leg over Dick's bike and settled onto the seat.
Mark this as the second vehicle he'd spirited away in the span of under a week.
At least Bruce wouldn't be the one on him about this one. The engine purred to
life he eased the bike around before speeding off down the exit tunnel,
fearlessly leaving this life behind for another one... at least for now.
Dick,
I've borrowed her - do you call it a her? - for a little while. I promise
she'll come back in one piece. I had to get out of here, get my head straight.
Bruce knew a place... maybe it's where I'll go. Maybe it's not. We'll see what
the road tells me. If I leave her this side of the water, I'll tell you where.
Damian
***** Chapter 2 *****
Damian sat alone in his room at the monastery, his bare feet pressed to the
cold stone floor, only a thin robe between him and the elements that invaded
the room. No fire burned in the small central pit and the shutters on the
windows were open, a small scattering of snow swirling across the floor on the
room's far side. Yet Damian looked utterly relaxed, perfectly okay with the
temperature of the room. His breathing was slow, his heart rate slower... his
body did not move except to allow himself to blink every once in a while. He'd
been told time and again that he excelled at this sort of thing beyond all
expectation. His body, used to far different temperatures had fought with him
for the first year, driving him nearly mad with how much he shook at night, how
hard it was to hold a single thing even during training exercises. But once
he'd been taught control over his body - a talent meant to be used in cases of
near-starvation or in an attempt to fake someone into thinking you were dead -
he had found it useful for far different means.
Now, he could spend nearly all day like this, sitting in temperatures even the
monks themselves had a hard time with. It was a human thing... to be cold, to
have your body warn you of the low temperatures and the issues that could come
with them. And once they'd found him sitting outside in the middle of a
blizzard in precious more than his robe and slippers, they'd taken to calling
him the Demon Son. At first, it had irritated him, made him fight them a little
harder each time he met them across the training mats. But that, too, had
eventually settled. His ire dissipated and in its place, he found the name
somehow fitting. Maybe he had come from a past that was rather like Hell
itself... and yes, he was Bruce's son. Maybe he was not deserving of the
nickname now, but once upon a time... once when he'd been called his mother's
prince, a precious cherub... he'd deserved this name then and had not gotten
it. It only suited that it be the reverse; a name indicative of his inner Hell
now that he was ruling over it.
His eyes closed and he slowly began to move his body back into touch with
itself. Rising temperature, faster heartbeat, quicker respiration... everything
else following the same course. It would take him near an hour to do it from
how deeply he'd been in it, but he was getting faster every day, ruling a
little more over himself with each passing minute. His mind kicked into a
higher gear, allowing him to think of more broadened topics, a few more at a
time than before. As he did, he allowed himself to feel for the voices he'd
warred with for so long.
Three whole years and he'd chosen to stay here, tucked away from the rest of
humanity, settling his own battles and gaining respect - but not fear - of the
monks around him. He'd learned patience and virtue... how to hold his tongue
and how to use his words with a sharper point than before. Now his words stung
in a different way, no longer the barbs of a scared child lashing out at anyone
who seemed to get too close. No more blunt force trauma from his words.
Instead, he had learned to use them as a honed weapon, razor sharp and
effective beyond any hope he'd ever had for them.
The wind picked up and Damian shifted just enough to tuck his face down against
his arm, which rested over his knees, bent before him. He could still faintly
hear each of the voices he'd wanted out of his head, but they no longer ruled
him in some perverse tug-o-war inside his head. Talia no longer screamed for
blood and Bruce no longer lashed out at him for wanting it. The voices were
quiet... within reasonable bounds now. The soft murmur of what someone might
deserve. The quiet plea to reason it out rather than react. No more demands,
only information. Dick's voice was there, too. Something Damian hadn't expected
in the least, but had found after only a few months here. His was the voice of
encouragement, the one telling him he didn't just have to make something of
himself... but that he already was something. The one that made quiet remarks
like 'impressive' when he took down an opponent without permanent damage, the
one that just let him feel the quiet smile he could imagine on Dick's lips when
he used a little too much pressure. Dick's was the voice Damian allowed to
remain a little stronger than the others. Because Dick understood. Not just the
one in his head, the one in reality understood him far more than Damian had
ever let himself realize before.
He let a smile slide over his lips as he drew in his first deep breath, tasting
the chill on the air, the frigid temperatures of the room and the numbness of
his body. He pushed his body then, forcing the temperature higher, just a few
degrees, an act that took nearly ten minutes before he accomplished it.
Swallowing, he winced at the soreness of his throat from the lack of saliva. He
eased himself up from the floor, carefully navigating the room to shut the
window and then kneeling to start the fire in his pit. Watching the flame grow,
he stood and watched the orange and yellow flicker and stick, white flames
licking up through the center after a few seconds. Reaching for his robes, he
untied them and let the garment fall to the floor at his feet, allowing the
heat of the fire to touch his bare skin as he stood, palms out, toward the
ceiling, his mouth forming the silent words he'd spoken each day since he'd
arrived here. A vow to himself, a vow to his mother, a vow to his father, a vow
to Dick, and a vow to the world. Nothing more and nothing less would be
accepted. He weighed each word as he spoke them, careful to find the lies and
the actuality of them all. He'd promised himself he'd only leave once he could
find no lies in his own promises.
His lips stilled and his hands turned, palms downward over the fire, a slow
brightening of his features taking place as he stood there. Today, for the
first time in three years... there were no lies within his words. Kneeling, he
peered into the flames, memorizing this moment, this feeling of elation and yet
sadness. It was the second time in his life he'd felt like this. It was time...
time for another chapter, another piece of his life. It was time to return to
Gotham.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Damian stood just outside the gates of Wayne Manor. Part of him wondered if
anyone there would even recognize him. Three years had turned him from a soft
adolescent into the beginnings of a man. His features were less rounded, more
stark, his muscles well defined instead of lean, his stature far larger than it
had been. So many things had changed about him, even just physically... and
that wasn't to mention the nature of his mental transformation. Casting a
glance around, he took in the variety of things he could pinpoint about the
security around the premises. He debated trying out how good it was, but
decided against it. It would only set Bruce on edge and that wasn't really the
welcome he was looking for today.
In truth, he'd debated going straight to Blüdhaven instead of coming here. But
here... here was home. This was the place he was supposed to be, no matter how
much he felt like the reception would have been greater somewhere else. Taking
the last step forward, he pressed the buzzer on the gate, raising his head to
look into the camera. Wind brushed over his skin, throwing too-long bangs into
his face, obscuring his vision for a fraction of a second. Maybe it had taken
him longer to get home than he'd anticipated. Maybe the month long journey had
turned into a way to find another piece of himself on the way back home. And
maybe... he didn't mind that at all. He gazed into the camera with a certain
amount of peace, a quiet anticipation, until Alfred's voice quietly questioned,
"Master Damian?"
He let a smile curve his lips for a fraction of a second, giving a single nod,
his eyes squinting slightly as he did. The gates unlatched and he stepped
through, closing them securely behind him, hearing the locks engage and the
telltale sound of the electric grid turning back on. Quietly, he made his way
up the drive, under no hurry at all to get where he was going. Another
contrast, just one more thing that had changed. Stepping up to the door, he
didn't even have time to reach for the handle before it was opened. His
expectation was Alfred on the other side, but instead he found his breath taken
away.
Dick stood there, the door in one hand, the other slightly behind his thigh.
Always prepared, this one. Prepared for Damian to not be Damian... or for him
to attack first and ask questions later. He just gave Dick a small smile and
stepped into the foyer, pushing his hood back and swiping his bangs out of his
face. They stood, regarding one another for nearly a full minute before Damian
broke the silence. "Did you get her back, like I promised?"
Dick's shoulders relaxed and he pushed the door closed. "I did... but, you
know, I had a thought about it once I got her back. Just... didn't feel like I
was her driver anymore." Damian could feel his face showing Dick a certain
amount of concern, feel the way his body finally reacted to situations as
normal people did. It put him at ease that he knew how to react outwardly
without violence, even in the face of people he'd once held volatile reactions
to. Monks were one thing... people... people had been another. That was why
he'd spent so long coming back here. Just one more step on the road to refining
himself.
Damian cleared his throat and offered the requisite, "Oh?" to keep Dick talking
to him.
"Yeah, so..." Dick pulled a set of keys from his pocket, easily selecting one
and sliding it off the clasp. He held it out to Damian, a genuinely pleased
smile curving his lips. "She wants you. I've kept her in use, kept up her
maintenance... figured if you ever came back, she'd be yours."
He could feel his face transform into a mask of confusion. He'd left... he'd
all but stolen Dick's bike... and - ah, yes. The voice of encouragement and
delicate concern - now softer than the reality standing in front of him -
supplied him helpfully with the idea that Dick had missed him, that he'd held
onto something in hopes he'd not lose someone he cared about for good. And this
gift... it was Dick's plea for him to stick around. He let understanding cloud
his features as he reached to take the key, tucking it carefully into his
pocket and then stepping forward, opening his arms. He'd come halfway... let
Dick choose from there.
Dick stepped in, pulling Damian into his arms and Damian could feel it when he
breathed out the breath he'd seemingly been holding onto. Damian let his hands
slide flat against Dick's back, feeling his muscles shift under the thin t-
shirt he was wearing, feeling the give and take of breath in the other's body.
His own breath hitched as he took in Dick's scent; cleanly washed, still the
same soap he'd used since Damian had known him. It was something he'd come to
associate with his training sessions, with his sense of actually being taught
the things Bruce had held back from him. Memories poured in, leaving him
unwittingly at the mercy of the world until it passed. It was only a few
seconds, but it changed everything.
When Damian stepped back from the embrace, he knew something about himself he
hadn't figured out, even in his whole time away from here. There was just one
little messed up piece of him left, it seemed. One he couldn't have even
thought to purge himself of... and one he now held no desire to do away with.
He let his hand slide down Dick's arm, their fingertips ghosting over one
another before parting. "Thank you. I'll keep her safe." He wouldn't play coy,
tell Dick he didn't have to... none of that nonsense. He knew how to play that
game, but he disliked it, even now.
Another presence joined them and Damian murmured, "Father," before he ever
turned around. When he did, he discovered he'd expected to find more age on
Bruce's face, more weary lines, more reflection of the beatings he'd taken in
the repressed pain in his eyes. But instead he was confronted with nearly the
same portrait he'd kept in his mind from before he'd left. Strength,
regality... a sense of mystery. He smiled then, taking the few steps necessary
to bring him before his father. He let Bruce initiate the intimacy, let Bruce
gather him into his arms in a way that clearly spoke 'my son' as if he'd
bellowed the words throughout the manor. They embraced for a moment, the
contact containing emotion, but nothing like when he'd held Dick in his arms a
few moments before. The understanding became clearer, the separation between
the emotions he felt more defined.
"Welcome home." The words almost felt like Bruce had been grappling for
something to say and ended up with the most mundane of them all. So... typical.
Damian let his lips quirk up in a little smirk as he shook his head a little,
the action more amusement than negation of the welcome. "Yeah... it's... been a
while." He let the seemingly awkward words work their magic on Bruce, his
father relaxing faintly, just enough Damian could see it. His gaze found the
clock behind Bruce, watching the second hand for a moment and then finding the
time. "I think... it's my bedtime." A joke, one that told of when he should
have gone to bed before he'd left, the little sparkle of amusement in his eyes
giving him away as much as the little tilt of his head did.
Dick huffed out a laugh, clasping him on the shoulder as he headed past him,
the touch very directed, intentional. "I don't think we'll be sending you to
bed at that time anymore." There was a hesitation there at the end, the desire
to tack on something... perhaps... a nickname. Damian assessed it in the span
of the next second, pushing the slight tingle his body received from the touch
to the back of his mind with less ease than he'd have liked. "I'd hope not." He
slid one arm out of his backpack and flicked his eyes toward the stairs. "Is
there a room I could use?" He didn't expect it not to have changed. Like Dick,
he was ready for that little piece of Bruce's idiosyncrasy.
Dick was already halfway up the stairs, but he paused to speak, his words -
though quiet - drifting back down to Damian. "I think I've got that one solved
for you. Come on."
Damian could sense Alfred hovering somewhere behind Bruce, though he hadn't
engaged him just yet. He knew he wouldn't until he'd gotten a feel for why
Damian was here or until given a reason to need to. In the morning, he was sure
he'd have his reunion with him and that was fine with him. He stepped past
Bruce, gave Alfred a little nod and a small smile before he mounted the
staircase, taking them two at a time to the top. A little bit of hurry-up and
he fell in step with Dick, wondering how he was going to solve this particular
problem without asking Alfred to make up another room.
They stopped by Damian's old room and Dick paused, his hand on the knob, his
gaze locking with Damian's for a moment. "It's changed." Damian nodded. "Of
course. Almost four years... I would expect it has." He admitted the little
shot of pain at the idea that Bruce had pushed him away in that period of time,
but he knew on another level it was what Bruce had had to do for himself. Maybe
not the best way of dealing, but one of the healthier ways Bruce knew. It was
that or terrorize Gotham over someone's death, wasn't it? Picture of sanity,
that one. Not that he could talk.
Dick opened the door and Damian followed him in. The room had definitely
changed, though not how Damian had thought it would. His old small bed had been
traded out for a grand King size spread, an intricate headboard and frame. The
carpet had changed to a deep royal blue and the walls were lacking the
impersonal art that had once been there and instead held things Damian was sure
were Dick's doing. A few posters of what he'd found to be semi-current movies
when he'd left the monastery, a drawing he'd been forced into doing before he'd
left for a project - an embarrassingly bad sketch of a motorcycle, not unlike
the one he'd just been gifted. A few high-priced antique weapons hung around
the area, and in the corner there was a whole rack of practice implements, all
brand new. Wooden versions of the items they'd actually taught him to use...
and a few they hadn't. He dropped his bag on the chest at the foot of the bed
and moved to run his fingers over a pair of sticks that could only be the
closest wooden replica of Dick's escrima sticks without giving them away
completely. He picked them up, felt the weight in his hands, and realized
they'd been hollowed and weight added to the insides. Only wooden in appearance
now; lethal if used correctly, innocent looking enough to pass inspection to be
allowed out of the cave. He twirled them in his fingers and sank into the
stance he'd learned as second nature by now when handling a weapon for the
first time. He met Dick's eyes, watching the pride swell behind them. He
watched as Dick's gaze slid over his body, taking in everything that he was now
and he watched - for an instant - that gaze change before it was gone, like a
book slammed closed.
Damian's body slipped into a slow burn as he eased himself back into a normal
position, carefully placing the escrima sticks down. "Teach me tomorrow? I have
the idea, but never did really get the method before I left."
Dick regarded him for a moment and then nodded. "Sure." He pushed his hands
into his pockets and then, quietly, "We don't have any clothes that are yours,
figured they'd not fit anymore, you know? But... you'd probably fit in some of
mine if you want to borrow what I've got stashed away here."
So he was here enough now to leave things again. Damian wondered if he'd come
back in part to keep Bruce's sanity this side of that grey line he constantly
toed... or if he'd just wanted to come back. But he didn't ask, just shed his
hooded jacket and slid his shoes off, leaving them at the foot of the bed.
"Sweats or something to sleep in?" His voice was, perhaps, a little hopeful.
He'd taken the robe with him when he'd left, but somehow it didn't feel right
when within these walls to use it. Not for curling up in the first soft bed
he'd seen this side of his teens, not for coming home.
"I'm sure we can find something." Dick opened the door and took off down the
hall. Three doors down and he pushed the door open, Damian following a bit
behind. Dick's room was much less personal, the same sort of bland art as most
of the rest of the house contained. The carpet was the same brown Damian
remembered from before he left and the bedspread clearly Bruce's doing, ugly in
its own right. But the mound of clothing on the chair next to the dresser,
haphazardly piled there screamed Dick, though it was the only thing in the room
that did. The bed was mussed from use and Damian wondered how Dick kept Alfred
out of the room.
"Have a seat." Dick began to dig through the pile, discarding things onto the
top of the dresser and onto the floor as he sorted through it.
Damian eased himself onto the only place he could sit in the whole room, right
onto Dick's bed. His hand slid over the sheets, his gaze curiously examining
the indent in the pillow before his attention was redirected back to Dick as
the other straightened up. "One pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt." Dick gave
the shirt a cursory sniff and then shrugged. "I think it's clean." He tossed it
to Damian, the pants following a second later.
Both items were snatched out of the air with ease, Damian giving Dick's back an
amused look as he turned around to start piling his clothing back onto the
chair. "It'll do." He slid off the bed. "I think... I'm still going to hit the
sack though. Not exactly my bedtime, but I'm beat." Well, at least somewhat. He
could go for longer... much longer. But he didn't really want to.
"If you leave your clothes out for Alfred to clean, I'll let him know to have
something purchased for you."
Damian paused, his head cocked slightly. "I have one more clean shirt. I think
I'd rather do the shopping myself, actually." He resumed his exit from the
room, leaving their conversation there as he headed to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes found him cleaner than he'd been in months and smelling faintly
of the least scented things he could find in the bathroom. He'd trimmed his
bangs just to get them out of the way, but the rest of his hair remained
brushing past his ears, touching the nape of his neck. He pulled on the sleep
pants and picked up the shirt and his towel, continuing to dry his hair as he
walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Once inside, he ditched the towel in the laundry basket, turned out the lights
and paused to pull the shirt over his head, one step from the bed. He had it
halfway on before the most intense wave of arousal struck him. Every light
inhale of Dick's scent from the shirt sent his pulse skittering and set his
nerves on fire. With a little groan, he pulled the shirt back off, staring at
the offending item for a moment before slowly bringing it up to his face. A few
sniffs and then... right there, right against the armpit of the shirt. He
pushed his nose against the fabric and inhaled deeply, another rumbling groan
leaving him as he pushed the breath back out. Dear sweet sin... he let his
eyelids fall closed and breathed in the scent again as he climbed onto the bed,
pushing the sheets and comforter out of the way.
Falling back onto the soft mattress, he rolled over onto his back and brought
his legs up, feet flat on the bed as he clutched the shirt in both hands. He
stared at it, a few inches from his face, the faint light from outside his
window illuminating it just enough for him to see anything in the room. Wetting
his lips, he resigned himself to what he'd been realizing for a while now.
Somehow... some way... Dick had become more to him than a brother while he'd
been away. Maybe even before. Hell, he'd been too young to even think of such
things back then. He'd spent the past eight months making peace with his
sexuality, coming to terms with who he was and what he wanted in his own ways.
And now... now he made peace with this just as easily. Dick wasn't his flesh
and blood and he was only a pseudo-Wayne anyway.
Sliding one hand down his bare abdomen, Damian pushed his fingers beneath the
waistband of the sleep pants, grasping his already engorged length. His hips
arched a little as he pushed the fabric of Dick's shirt back against his nose
and mouth. He breathed it in, open-mouthed, letting his eyelids close and his
imagination paint the scene differently for him. Dick beside him... his hand in
his pants, helping him... encouraging him. He moved his hand quicker, his
tongue slipping out to taste the fabric, a little disappointed when it only
tasted of cotton. This was just lingering scent; perhaps Dick had worn it
briefly... or it had been washed after he'd sweated profusely in it. Either
way, this was only a remnant of the truth. Damian imagined Dick would be
overwhelming in reality. To press his face against his armpit would result in
the nearly immediate release of his pent up desires, he was sure. Well... that
would make sparring interesting, wouldn't it?
A little smirk quirked his lips and he nuzzled the fabric again, his arm
straining as he stroked his cock faster still. He wanted to make more sounds,
to spill the moans as freely from his lips as he had when he'd allowed himself
to explore this aspect of his sexuality on his way back home. But he knew too
well of prying ears within these walls. He'd already given himself away, he was
sure. No point in torturing someone with the sounds they didn't want to know
about to start with. The idea of what he would have done before passed behind
his mind's eye and he huffed out a breathy laugh.
Rolling onto his side, he abandoned his cock for a moment to yank a pillow down
and settle the shirt over it. One arm slipped under the pillow, holding it, as
he eased himself onto his knees, sinking down as far as the pants would allow.
His hand slipped back under the material, grasping his length and picking up
where he'd left off. Pushing his face against the pillow, he let out a soft
moan, his hips working as he stroked himself. Faster... just a little more... a
little cry left his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste the shirt again,
imagining he could taste more than he could. Another bitten-back whimper and
then he was cumming hard. His hips strained and his hand moved jerkily over his
cock as he grunted against the shirt-covered pillow. Warmth spilled over his
hand and all over the pants. He let out a little huff of a laugh again as he
eased himself down onto his stomach, carefully arranging himself and extracting
his hand. He sucked the remnants off his fingers with no more regard than he
would have given barbeque sauce from a good meal of ribs, simply a means to an
end, a way to get his hand clean.
Rubbing his cheek against the shirt, he let himself start to drift off toward
sleep. He'd worry about the cum-stained pants tomorrow. Maybe... he'd just keep
the shirt though.
----
Damian hit the mat hard, a wheeze of breath leaving him. He rolled up into a
crouch, both practice escrima in front of him, at the ready as he'd been
instructed. Dick stood a few feet from him, his stance wide, his eyes fierce.
He was barely breathing hard and they'd been going for near on an hour already.
Damian had slept well and he was full of energy, but he could feel himself
growing slower after the numerous hits he hadn't learned to block just yet. His
eyes met Dick's and he canted his head, lowering his sticks to the ground and
bowing his head. It was something he'd never have done before, allowing Dick
the win in this situation. But now, he felt it was wiser to give this one over
and maybe show Dick a thing or two in another way.
He heard the quiet sound of Dick sheathing his sticks and he stood, gathering
his own into one hand, glancing toward the other. Placing the escrima sticks
next to his towel, Damian cleared his throat. "No weapons this round, whadda ya
say?"
Dick turned to study him, a little quirk of his head and a shrug of his
shoulders giving his acquiescence to the idea. His own sticks were unsheathed,
placed aside and Dick strode back out onto the mats, waiting, his stance ready,
but not predatory. Damian took his time, easing off his gloves and padding back
out onto the mat. He kept his steps casual, his body language disarming until
he eased himself into position in front of Dick. He gave him a bow and then a
little wave of his hand, a come-hither motion, as a definite glint took his
eye. "My turn," he breathed, catching Dick's raised eyebrow as he bowed back to
him and then started their dance around the mat.
A quarter circle later, Dick finally came after him, a rush, a tumble, and a
half-landed blow where he'd been looking for the victory in one strike. Always
play to your strengths... he had to give him that. Dick knew he wasn't nearly
as good of a martial artist as Damian even had been all those years ago and he
was wary, with good reason. Go for the kill strike right out of the gates... it
only made sense. Damian, of course, anticipated it and blocked most of it. Dick
was fast... faster than he remembered... and he had to re-calibrate himself for
that, compensate as they moved along the mats, ducking, dodging, landing the
solid blows when he could but never striking out without reason. A blocked hit
was a wasted motion and it was something he'd screwed up for years. But he'd
learned finesse... learned to hone his skills and learned to make even the most
difficult moves look easy and fluid. It was his turn to keep his breathing
schooled, to look in calm control of everything while Dick flitted around, only
landing about half of his strikes.
Damian waited him out, giving him a few hits to think about in the interim.
Yeah, he was showing off. But it wasn't like Dick hadn't been for the past hour
or so. Let him see that his baby brother wasn't so little... or so fire-headed
anymore. Dick made to charge him and Damian waited it out, pretending easily
like he didn't notice it was coming. He sidestepped it at the last moment and
brought a hard side of his hand down across his neck, an elbow just right
between his ribs, and finally a sweep of his feet out from under him. Dick
hurtled toward the mat and already, Damian was down, waiting on him, caching
him hard across the throat before he eased himself over Dick, his hand pressing
his chin back, one knee on Dick's elbow and the other hand twisting his arm
back to near-pain. He met Dick's gaze, excitement in his eyes as he watched him
assess the situation. He waited, seeing if he'd find any weakness, knowing
there was at least one he couldn't cover if Dick could still move like he used
to be able to. But instead, he felt the older yield under him and he canted his
head slightly, curiosity painting his face. "Giving up so easily?"
"You've come so far." It wasn't the words Damian had expected and while it
wasn't a response, it answered a few questions all by itself. He eased back,
letting Dick go and simply crouching next to him. "It has been a long time, you
know."
Dick's laugh lightened the room as he picked himself up off the floor, setting
to examining the places that hurt the most. "That it has. You've gotten even
better at this than you used to be... and you used to be damn good already. I'm
impressed."
Damian didn't stop his pride from swelling for an instant, letting the feeling
of Dick's approval slip over him. "You're faster than I remember." He watched
the smile tug at Dick's mouth, pleased he could be the cause of such a thing.
These emotions, the ones he had to pry out and put on for anyone else... they
just sort of existed when he was around Dick. He didn't assess the situation
and then put up the proper mask, instead he felt like he genuinely experienced
the things he displayed. Then again, after last night, he supposed he'd have to
accept that Dick just did things to him. Unwittingly as it was, he did. It was
dangerous and the part of him that stubbornly clung to his prior teachings told
him as much, a touch louder than usual, his mother's voice warning him away
from anything even remotely resembling attachment. Bruce's voice was quiet,
unable to provide him any information in this regard, something Damian found
he'd expected. Bruce had closed himself off from feeling with a partner a long
time ago. He could guess nearly the exact length of time ago, too, if he was
assessing Bruce and Talia's relationship correctly. But one voice did offer him
advice... his own. The one he'd been searching for the whole time he'd been
away and had found at long last; the one that mattered the very most out of all
of them.
This voice encouraged him, told him to tread carefully, but not to forego this
particular path. It told him the logic of why he'd done what he had last night;
the hormonal opposition that implied an immunity response in the favorable sort
of manner. Granted, it had been developed as a sense for opposite sex couples,
a clue as to who to breed with. But that didn't change that it could happen
with anyone. His body had smelled something it liked and his mind had agreed
fully with the idea, providing him with the appropriate response physically and
then he'd filled in the gaps with fantasy and... oh how good that fantasy had
been. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it down on the bench and
picking up his towel to start to dry himself off with. He heard the rustle of
material behind him, telling him Dick was changing.
He gave Dick a respect to his space, to his ability to change without Damian
starting at him, covertly or not. He changed back into his jeans and balled up
his workout clothing, something that hadn't been quite clean to start with. He
turned then, coming to Dick's side and holding out his arms. "Laundry
service..." he bit back a grin at Dick's snort as he piled his clothing on top
of Damian's own. "We have Alfred, you know... who you still haven't said a
single word to if I'm not mistaken."
"Why do you think I'm taking the laundry up?" Damian turned toward the stairs,
heading up toward the Manor with the pile of clothing. Once out of the cave and
halfway toward the laundry room, he paused, allowing himself a second to take
in the scent from Dick's clothing, seeing for certain if it was Dick or if he'd
by chance gotten someone else's shirt. The wave of arousal hit him so hard he
took in a shuddering breath. Yeah... it was Dick alright. He shook his head a
little and finished his walk to the laundry room.
Two minutes wait found Alfred coming in with the clothing from their rooms in a
basket. Damian had already tossed their clothing into the washer and now just
leaned against the wall next to the machine, his arms easily crossed over his
chest. "Hey," he offered quietly. "Still doing good then?" He could see Alfred
relax as he gave a short nod. "I am. And yourself, Master Damian?"
"Never better." He hesitated there, uncertain how much to say, how much the
older man cared. Finally, "Figured out a lot of stuff about myself that I
needed to."
"Quieted the voices then?" Alfred began moving the laundry from the basket into
the washer, his gaze carefully on what he was doing rather than on Damian.
"They're... quiet-er." He stressed the last part of the word. "I've found peace
with them... and found my own among them." Damian shifted his gaze to the far
wall and the strange toothbrush and vase panting there. "That's what I needed
to do." It didn't surprise him Bruce had told Alfred about why he'd been gone.
Alfred was one of the few pieces of Bruce's past that he still allowed to keep
up with him, a piece he couldn't refute that he needed. And somehow, it didn't
bother him that his private details had been shared either.
"Then I'm pleased for you." Alfred added detergent and selected the correct
cycle, putting the clothing to wash. "You and Master Dick getting on well
enough, then?"
Damian actually managed a smile. "We are."
"And you and Master Bruce?"
"As well as I expected." Damian pushed away from the wall, reaching to lightly
touch Alfred's shoulder as he passed him. "These things take time."
"Couldn't have said it better myself."
----
Damian watched from the doorway as Dick packed up his single bag. The pile of
clothing from the chair was gone, though Damian noted that one of the drawers
was slightly ajar, clothing obviously in the dresser. He shifted his stance,
letting his shoulder press against the wooden frame as he crossed his ankles,
one toe tapping lightly on the floor as the other foot supported him. Dick
pushed one last item into his bag and zipped it up, slinging it over his
shoulder and looking up at Damian, his gaze - for once - unreadable.
Damian let himself regard Dick for longer than he usually would have, trying to
see past that firmly placed mask he'd been putting up over the past few days.
But if there was one thing Dick was good at, it was hiding his true emotions
when he wanted to. Sure, it was obvious he was hiding behind a mask, but there
wasn't even an allusion of what he was really feeling when he did it.
"You're welcome any time you want..." Dick came toward him and Damian stepped
back into the hallway to let him out of the room. The door clicked shut behind
Dick and Damian fell in step beside him as they made their way down toward the
cave. "Have you taken the bike out yet?"
Damian ducked his head a little, hiding the smile and the light in his eyes
from the other's caring in this case. He gave a one-shouldered shrug.
"Actually, I haven't. Don't want to wreck it or something and it's been a hell
of a long time since I've ridden one."
Dick paused, partway down the staircase into the cave, his hand tightening on
the railing for a moment, and then loosening. "We could go together a few
times. Maybe... next week." And just like that, he was heading down the stairs
again, leaving Damian still upon the step, his gaze curious as he watched Dick
descend into the cave below. Odd behavior, even for Dick. He'd analyze it
later, but for now... he had to see him off.
Coming down the stairs, he moved to stand by the computer terminal, his arms
crossed and his face carefully passive as he watched Dick load up the saddle
bags on his nearly-twin bike to the one he'd gifted Damian. There were little
differences, slight improvements he could see in the design, but overall it was
the same bike, a fact that gave him a tiny little thrill when he thought on it.
Dick slid onto the bike, plucking the helmet up and lifting it to put it on.
Damian could feel the prickle of his gaze in those few seconds before the
helmet slid on and he fastened the strap. The bike purred to life and Dick slid
his gloves on, leaned over the bike and gripped the handlebars tight. A little
rev of the engine and he was off down the tunnel, leaving only the memory of
his presence within a few seconds.
Damian pushed himself away from the terminal, taking two steps before Bruce's
voice stopped him. "You're allowed to do what you want, you know." The words
weren’t something Damian had ever thought he'd hear Bruce say. But they were
nothing if not fact at this point. Such a long time away... Bruce knew he held
no sway over what Damian wanted to do now. And yet, he spoke permission. There
had to be a reason for it. He let the little sound he knew his father was so
used to hearing slip from his lips, a smile forming around it, "-tt-." One hand
lifted to push his still unruly hair back from his face. "I know."
Bruce's fingers paused over the keys and Damian got the impression he was being
watched from the reflection in the screens. His mind sorted through the reasons
why Bruce would tell him what he already knew. Or maybe... what he needed to
hear. That one. Permission to do as he needed in regards to Dick. Perhaps. What
would Bruce say if he knew the direction of Damian's thoughts. A faint tingle
set up in his limbs as he realized... Bruce probably did know. He'd never been
one for missing facts and this was a cold, hard fact of Damian's life at
present. He was turned on by the mere idea of Dick and recklessly attached to
the reality of him. The near month since he'd been back had done nothing but
further his reactions.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, turning to look back at
Bruce, catching his gaze in the monitors. He looked for any hint of ill-ease,
for any indication that his father was angry with him. But all he found was
sincerity. Even the usual hardened mask of Batman wasn't in place for the naked
look Bruce was supplying him with right then. "I'd wreck the bike, I'm pretty
sure..."
Bruce's gaze held fast, never wavering. "Then have Alfred take you."
Unspoken... don't steal the Batmobile again. Damian could have laughed; the
desire to let the noise free swam inside of him, but he didn't. Bruce was
stubbornly clinging to the past, just like a good Bat. So typical. "Maybe."
Damian turned away, pushing his hands into the pockets of his new jeans and
headed for the stairs. He wouldn't go now... maybe not even soon. But he knew
he would go. And when he did, there would be no turning back from it.
***** Chapter 4 *****
The night had been a long one, his and Batman's rounds of the city taking
longer than usual. More low-life scum, more opportunities for him to have
slipped up and done something Batman wouldn't approve of. But he hadn't. He'd
been a perfect little Robin and he could even sense the swell of pride from
Bruce once they had returned to the cave for the night. But he hadn't stuck
around to revel in it. Instead, he'd headed right up the stairs and straight to
the shower. He'd gotten tossed into a dumpster early in the evening and he
hadn't really been game to keep smelling like rotting fish and garbage juice.
He stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing out the door behind him, his
hands still scrubbing the towel through his hair. He still hadn't gotten it
cut, though he couldn't really decide what was stopping him from it. But every
time he thought about doing so, he just dismissed it like it was nothing
important to be addressed. Perhaps it was so long going without hair of any
sort. Perhaps it was the fact that he still looked utterly stupid with facial
hair, something he got rid of any time it tried to patch itself in, sparse as
it was. But he'd been letting everything else grow as well and it just did...
something for him when he took in the full-length view of himself in the
bathroom mirror. Maybe that was it... he was trying to be somehow attractive,
trying to look older than he was.
Damian paused by the door to the room Dick had been using, lightly chewing his
lower lip as he regarded the door. Anticipation skittered through him and he
swallowed thickly. Right beyond that door, tucked into the dresser, lay at
least something of Dick's that would have to still smell like him. He didn't
know what, but anything would do. He hadn't seen him for a week, hadn't even
talked to him since he'd left. Part of him knew he was avoiding, though,
honestly, he wasn't certain why. He wasn't afraid of the responses he could get
or of the repercussions of his actions. He was man enough - no, adult enough -
to deal with whatever happened if he went forward with all of this. But still,
something held him back.
He took one more cautious step toward the door, his hand twitching at his side,
his breath hitching. Already, he was growing so excited by the prospect of
this. He wasn't sure he'd even make it back out of Dick's room if he went in to
fetch whatever item would win his affections. The idea of doing whatever dirty
deed he was about to in the confines of Dick's room sent hot arrows of lust
straight through him, his breath shuddering in and a shiver working up his
spine. Oh, he had it bad, didn't he? He almost laughed.
One quick glance down the hallway and he turned the knob, slipping into the
room and closing the door behind himself. He flicked the lock and crossed the
darkened room, kneeling down next to the dresser and opening the middle drawer.
Carefully, he extracted a stack of clothing, bringing each piece up to his nose
and sniffing it, putting it back when it didn't pass the test. The whole drawer
later, he determined he hated Alfred's chosen detergent. The top drawer was
barren, all the clothing Dick had taken with him clearly from this drawer. The
bottom one held socks and various undergarments. Damian could almost feel his
pupils dilate in pure, unadulterated lust as he stared at the contents. Even if
it didn't smell like him... the idea alone was intoxicating. He reached in,
carefully plucking up the oldest looking pair of boxers.
His eyelids fluttered closed as he brought the material up to his face, taking
in a deep breath once his mouth was pressed against the fabric. A shiver worked
its way through him and his cock flexed hard in his sleep pants. No... Dick's
sleep pants. He'd still never given them back; hadn't dared to after he'd
painted them in his cum the first time. He took in another blessed breath,
Dick's scent enveloping him as he let his towel slide off his shoulders and
onto the floor. His free hand pushed into his pants, fingers encircling his
arousal. He started a quick rhythm, short little strokes and a strong grip.
Soon enough, he had his forehead pressed to the dresser, his hand moving
vigorously in his pants, and his face nearly buried in the depths of Dick's
boxers. The fact that he knew he looked entirely stupid right then didn't stop
him in the least. Not when he was getting off so hard from this... not when he
was so deliciously close. His tongue flicked out, sliding over the fabric, a
small moan leaving his lips as he bit at it softly. Drawing some of the
material into his mouth, he sucked on it, pushing two fingers behind the fabric
and shoving it into his mouth further. He let his fantasy take hold, allowing
him to imagine his fingers were Dick's cock. His fingers thrust into his mouth
and he groaned around them, his hips jerking hard a few times before he tensed
and whined. One more intense flick of his wrist and he was cumming hard,
spurting into Dick's sleep pants.
Panting, Damian extracted his fingers from his mouth and let the boxers fall
back into the dresser drawer. He pushed the drawer shut and just rested there,
catching his breath, one hand pressed over the front of the dresser, the other
still around his softening length. Cum dripped down his fingers as he sat
there, slowly running over them in the path gravity directed. Finally, he
pushed back from the dresser, settling on his heels and pulling at the elastic
of his pants with his clean hand, extracting the one that was a complete mess.
He wiped his hand on the towel and then tucked the edge of it into his pants,
mopping up what he could, at least ensuring he was clean if nothing else. The
pants were still damp, but not uncomfortably so.
Standing up, he folded the towel to hide away most of the evidence and tucked
it under his arm, padding to the door and listening for a few moments. Once he
was sure no one was outside, he slipped out into the hallway and quietly made
his way to his own room. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he leaned
back against it, a tiny laugh freeing itself from his lips. God this was messed
up. But the truth was, he didn't really care.
Making his way to his desk, he picked up the phone Bruce had left for him one
evening and selected Dick's number from it. There were only four numbers in the
whole address book and he counted himself lucky Bruce had bothered to program
in the ones he knew Damian might want or he'd have none at all. He composed the
text and shot it off before settling the phone back on the desk and tossing his
towel into his hamper. Standing by the window, he gazed out over the yard and
then toward the city beyond the gates of Wayne Manor. Nothing was going to
stand in his way...not even himself. Not anymore.
We ride tomorrow.
----
Damian woke up hours later to the feeling of being watched. He kept his eyes
stubbornly closed, his breath even as he evaluated the idea of the presence. It
wasn't imagined, he could almost sense whoever it was, just outside his grasp
for the time being, his senses just fogged enough from sleep that he couldn't
pinpoint them. He waited a minute, certain it was only one person... and then
honed in on where they were in relation to himself. The right of his bed,
against the wall... there was a chair there, he knew. Whoever it was... was
sitting in his room? His back was to them, so he let himself open his eyes,
scanning the area in front of his face and letting his eyes adjust so he could
see at least the dim outlines of the things in his room.
Damian's fingers crept to the edge of the sheet he'd cast over himself, the
movement itself taking near on a full minute. He counted to himself, judging
the person's breaths as he finally focused on it. In one fluid motion, he cast
the sheet aside and rolled out of the bed, grasping one of the escrima practice
sticks from his dresser where he'd left them. Tumbling across the floor, he
ended up kneeling to the side of the person. His hand shot out, the stick
coming up against their throat as he flicked on the light on his desk in the
same instant.
Dick sat in the chair, looking mildly amused, but not particularly shocked. He
raised one hand and gently pushed Damian's stick away from his throat. "At
least you ask questions now... I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."
His lips quirked up in a fond smile. "I thought we'd ride tonight after your
message. But you didn't reply, so I dropped in."
Damian eased himself back from Dick, standing up and moving to put the escrima
down on the dresser. Crossing his arms, he sank back on his heels. "So you
decide to be a creep and watch me sleep?" Like he had any room to talk... a
little tendril of guilt slid through him and he stomped it down immediately.
There would be no guilt over his pleasure.
"You looked like you were in the middle of your sleep cycle and I wanted to
wait until you weren't. No point in having a foggy brain while trying to
remember what you're doing with a bike, right?"
Sighing, Damian let his arms drop to his sides. Okay, so he had a point.
"Fine." Wetting his lips, he took the few steps to his dresser, pulling it open
and extracting a pair of boxer briefs. "You're not in your suit."
"Nope... it's just us being... us, tonight."
Damian's gaze slid over Dick's outfit. Tight jeans - God were they ever so
tight - and a fitted t-shirt with some character from a show Damian vaguely
remembered from when he had just come to live with Bruce. The thing clung to
Dick like a second skin and it honestly took his breath away. He forced his
gaze down to Dick's shoes, seeing just standard sneakers. Okay, fine. He forced
his body into control and turned back to the dresser, digging through it until
he found a pair of black jeans he knew fit him well enough. His hands sifted
through clothing, finding the t-shirt he'd borrowed from Dick, the material
soft in his fingers. A shiver of arousal slid through him as he shoved it under
another shirt, continuing to dig around.
He became aware of Dick's gaze on him as he finally pulled out a red tank top,
tossing it toward the bed. Even as he picked up a pair of socks and covered the
distance back to the bed, he could feel the prickle of being steadily watched.
He pulled his sleep shirt off, tossing it aside and yanking on the tank top.
Next came the pants... but even as he slipped his hands under the waistband he
couldn't stop thinking of how very naked he was under here... and what,
exactly, he'd done inside of these pants. He swallowed hard and shoved them
down, tamping down hard on his thoughts to prevent them from going toward
dangerous places.
Stepping out of the pajama bottoms, he left them to pool on the floor and
yanked on his boxer briefs in near-record time. Within seconds, he had the
jeans on as well, sliding them up and quickly fastening them.
"And the world record for changing clothing goes to... Damian Wayne," Dick
breathed out, a soft chuckle coming just after it. "He'd like to thank his
father and his mentor for the quick training that enables him to do such
things."
Damian snorted despite himself, shaking his head as he pushed his pockets into
place, grabbed the phone off his dresser, and then turned back to Dick. "We're
supposed to have leather jackets or something, right?" Without the suits, it
was important to figure out what was going to protect them now if they wrecked.
Dick pushed himself up, clasping Damian on the shoulder. "Got ya covered." His
fingers trailed away and Damian suppressed a shiver at the contact. It was
going to be a long night at this rate.
The pair made their way from Damian's room down into the cave wordlessly...
nearly silently. Dick stepped over to the main computer, turning the chair
around and picking up a black jacket with vibrant yellow accents, the exact
same color as parts of Damian's cape. He held it open for him, the look on his
face ultimately proud. "Try it?"
Damian stepped up to Dick, turning and pushing one arm into a sleeve, shifting
to push his other arm into the other sleeve, though Dick helped him carefully
with it. The leather was buttery soft, the scent of it obviously new, but not
overly so, as if it had been taken home a long time before. As Dick placed it
on his shoulders, smoothing it down, Damian's brow furrowed. Quietly,
"You've... had this for a while." His voice was gentle, questioning, not at all
accusatory.
"Yeah... I admit, when you left with the bike, I thought maybe when you got
back, we could... do this sort of thing. I knew you'd be a while, just not how
long, you know? But I took a guess as to the size and looks like I was at least
mostly right."
The sleeves were a tiny bit short, but nothing overly bad or obvious and the
fit was tight enough to be snug, but not enough to be constricting. He zipped
it up and pulled the flap across, buttoning it, finding his name very
delicately embroidered along the edge of the flap, done in gold thread. From a
few steps back, it just looked decorative, but up close it clearly read Damian.
Dick shrugged on his black and blue jacket, extracting a pair of gloves from
the pocket and starting to pull them on. For the first time, Damian noticed
only his own bike was down here, Dick's nowhere to be seen. He tilted his head
a little, pushing his hands into his pockets. When he came out with bright
green gloves, he almost laughed. A little smirk quirked his lips and he huffed
a soft -tt-. "Went with the theme, I see." He pulled them on, finding them a
perfect fit... too perfect to have been a guess. Dick had been waiting on this.
All of it was so calculated, so perfect... there was no way it was an impulse.
And he'd been so ready that he hadn't wanted to wait until tomorrow when Damian
had texted him.
Their eyes met and for an instant Damian could see a flicker of intensity he
hadn't expected behind them. A moment later, it was gone. "Best way to re-learn
is to get used to the lean of the bike again first. We'll take her out and I'll
drive for the first go. You... just feel." Three quick strides and Dick was
sinking down onto the bike's seat, sliding forward to leave the room for Damian
in the back. He gestured to the chair. "Your helmet." He pulled one from the
handlebars, his own Damian knew. So his bike was somewhere... just not anywhere
obvious.
Sliding himself onto the motorcycle, Damian pulled on his helmet, strapped it
on, and then eased himself forward, pressing himself up against Dick's back.
His pulse pounded through his veins and his senses kicked up into overdrive.
The bike came to life under Dick's hands and Damian slid his legs up, pushing
his feet to the little rests to keep them up and out of the way. Dick eased the
bike around and then revved the engine, starting them off down the tunnel. He
let himself move with Dick, forcing himself to ease into being a basic
extension of the other's body as they made the arching turns and twists of the
tunnels.
Once out into Gotham's night, the wind whipped past them and Damian closed his
eyes, letting himself simply feel Dick's body against his own. After a while,
he was anticipating Dick's movements, the way he'd shift just-so on left turns,
the way he'd hunch forward a little more just before he throttled it up. His
arms held onto Dick's torso, though it was far gentler than most people would
have been when riding pillion. He felt no need to clutch onto him, close enough
to him in enough ways that it was just second nature to go with the flow of the
whole ride.
They wound through the streets, Damian never once bothering to open his eyes,
letting the movements lull him, the shift of Dick's body pulling him.
Almost an hour later, they came to a stop. He didn't pull away immediately,
uncertain if they were stopping for sure or just pausing. Dick's gloved hand
came to press over Damian's own as the engine cut. He could feel the way Dick
squeezed lightly on his fingers and then released. Sliding off the bike, Damian
flipped up the visor on his helmet, casting Dick - and then the parking garage
they were in - a curious look. "Where are we?"
"Blüdhaven." Dick had removed his helmet in the short period of time since
Damian had dismounted. The way he said it spoke toward his underlying
anxiousness as to how Damian would react, something Damian easily picked up on.
"Oh?" Damian pulled off his own helmet, snapping the visor back down and then
reaching to place it in the compartment under the seat, latching it back down
and listening as it beeped, informing him it was locked up tight. Dick cradled
his own under his arm.
"At my complex."
Damian had to turn away to hide a smile, his steps carrying him toward the
stairs, already certain they were staying around for a while. "Kidnapping me
then?"
Dick mumbled something Damian didn't quite catch, his footfalls hurrying to
catch up with Damian. Once they were side-by-side again, he slowed, Damian
casting a glance toward him, that little tiny grin still in place on his face.
"Not complaining."
Three flights of stairs later, they stepped through a door and into the lobby
of the apartment complex. One more flight of stairs and halfway down the dimly
lit hallway Dick paused, fishing out his keys and unlocking the door.
Once they were inside, Dick made to turn off the alarm, murmuring the code to
Damian, flicking a glance at him as if to tell him to remember it. Not that he
could have forgotten it. It was his birthday, backwards. His brows knit as he
turned slightly away from Dick to unfasten his jacket and then lock the door,
his stance intentional to hide his confusion. The alarm was re-armed in the
stay status and Damian ditched his shoes and socks, taking a few steps into the
apartment, his bare feet sinking into the plush cream carpeting. It really
wasn't the wisest color for Dick, given his penchant for coming home bloodied
up, but perhaps he'd not had a choice in it.
The living room bore no resemblance to anything Damian recalled from before
he'd left, on the nights he'd snuck over to Dick's apartment to see what
Nightwing was up to. He'd had nearly nothing before, scraps of furniture and a
sincere refusal to use Bruce's money. This... still looked like Dick was
refusing to use Bruce's money, but like he'd tried really hard to at least save
up to do something more with his place. No longer a place of milk crate chairs
and cardboard box tables. Now it was twenty dollar chair sets and forty dollar
tables. And maybe a couple hundred on the couch, given it looked comfortable
enough. Not that Damian would have minded milk crates and cardboard, after all
he'd stopped valuing the material possessions of life the same way when he'd
been at the monastery. But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the
surroundings.
He paused at the edge of the little hallway, peering down it into what looked
like a tiny bathroom if the sink was any indication. Another door was closed,
but Damian dismissed it as the bedroom since he could see the edge of Dick's
mattress peeking out from behind the little privacy screen in the corner of the
living room.
"Washer and dryer. Yeah, I know... strange setup. Bed in the living room,
washer and dryer still in the apartment. But better than sharing one with
people who put god knows what in there." Dick's hand slid over his back as he
walked past him and this time Damian barely contained his shiver long enough
for Dick's hand to depart his skin. That man was going to be the death of him
until he finally just spit out what he wanted and saw if it sank or swam.
Dick slid onto the couch, pulling one leg up under him and picking up the
remote, turning on the television and choosing the news, turning it down low.
Damian carefully seated himself beside Dick, but stiffly enough to
intentionally seem usual about it while still being closer than he'd usually
have chosen to sit to anyone. Perhaps it would be written off as a change from
his time away.
After a few tense minutes of watching the news - which Damian held no interest
in at all - he finally looked down at his hands, clasping them between his
knees. "Can we talk about something I need to get off my chest?"
The TV was off in an instant, the remote on the coffee table. "Of course."
Vaguely he wondered how he was supposed to breach this topic without making a
wreck of it. After a few aborted ideas on how to open his mouth, he finally
just spit out the next words he could think of. "I want to sleep with you."
Okay, so that wasn't eloquent in any way, was it? But it was probably somehow
expected.
He could hear Dick's little intake of breath, not really a gasp, but not
exactly normal breathing either. Just as he was about to lunge headfirst into a
better explanation, Dick's voice cut him off. "I... sort of expected that."
Damian closed his eyes for a brief moment, opening them again and studying the
far wall, shaking his head just the slightest. "How?"
"You've been giving me that look ever since you got back."
Damian's lips pursed, the crease between his brows deepening as he regarded
what exactly that look was. Determining Dick was talking about his features
displaying his unrepentant desire to have at Dick in every way known to man...
he took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out in a
steady stream. The following breath was deceptively normal. "Fine."
He reached for the remote, only getting about halfway to it before Dick's hand
clamped over his shoulder, squeezing slightly, holding him in place. "Oh no...
we're not done talking yet." The tone of Dick's voice left no room for
argument, though for a split second, Damian considered it anyway.
Falling back against the couch, he cut his eyes to the side, his head turning
only slightly to take in Dick's profile. He didn't look angry... didn't really
look any particular emotion. But that... was Dick. "Could you drop the damn
mask for a minute?"
Dick let out a single, "Ha," the sound of it clearly somewhere between put-out
and amused. His hand retreated from Damian's shoulder and he turned himself on
the couch, crossing both of his legs and leaning forward, elbows braced on his
thighs. "Done. Now face me and we're even on that front."
Conceding that this was probably something he needed to do, Damian turned to
face Dick, drawing one leg up on the couch, foot still dangling off and the
other solidly on the floor. He raised his eyes to Dick's, holding them steady
and then letting himself just examine the other's features. There was a weight
to him that wasn't anything Damian had expected to see, like the gravity of the
situation was pulling him down when the Earth's own forces hadn't yet. But his
eyes were alight with something Damian could only call hope... or maybe that
was his own mind playing tricks on him, planting the seeds of something he
wanted to see within them instead.
"How long?"
Damian shot Dick a confused look. "You should know if you could see it..."
"Doesn't mean I caught it immediately... or that it wasn't there before I could
physically see you."
"The burning desire?" Damian shrugged. "Hell if I know... about the time
puberty hit me like a brick. Or do you mean the parts I'm not really equipped
to deal with? Because those came along after I got back."
Dick was watching him, his gaze feeling weighted to Damian's senses. It was
like being stared at in an interrogation room, but... gentler. If that even
made any sense, because it only half did in his own head. "So it's not just
wanting to sleep with me then..."
"That's the part I care to address."
"Of course it is." Dick sat back, his arms easily crossing over his chest, his
head cocking to the side. "But that's not the part you need to."
"You always seem to think you know what's best for me." There was no malice in
the words despite how cold they could have been.
"Sometimes I do." Dick's arms fell to his lap again and he slid one hand
forward, grasping Damian's knee. "One of us has been through this a few
times..."
"Few dozen," Damian cut in.
"Point... but the other one hasn't."
"I could have been in tons, you don't know that."
"Oh... I'd know." Dick's eyes were piercing, his gaze rock-steady. "You'd not
be like a wire about to snap right now if you had."
Damian visibly winced at the metaphor, knowing well enough that Dick would have
avoided it if he could have found a better one. "Maybe I've been really pent
up."
"And maybe you can just give it to me straight and we'll not sit here all night
going in circles."
Their eyes met and held. "No, I haven't been with anyone. Not sexually or
elsewise."
"Stop avoiding saying it."
Damian gave Dick a hard look and then spat out, "Not romantically."
"It's not a dirty word... hell, Damian. You don't have to spit it out like you
just said fuck."
Damian's eyes sparkled and he huffed out a laugh. "No, but you just did because
of it." He ducked his head, giving it the smallest of shakes. "Got you figured
out, Grayson." An instant later Dick's hand was fisted in his shirt, the other
in the short hairs along the back of his neck, their lips a hair's breadth
apart, Dick's gaze intense as it held his own. "Do you now?" Damian shivered,
unable to hold back the reaction to Dick's nearness, to the intensity... and
oh, God, to his scent. He drew in a lengthy breath and nearly moaned for it.
Tossing every thought he had to the wind, Damian seized Dick by the shoulders
and hauled him forward the rest of the way, their lips meeting harshly. It was
anything but delicate as far as kisses went, Damian's mouth taking rather than
caressing, his tongue demanding entrance instead of applying finesse to try to
gain access. Dick yielded to him and arousal slammed into Damian like a whip,
taking his breath away and wrenching his arousal up another few notches. He
devoured Dick until he found he needed far more and required their contact
broken in order to obtain it.
Pulling back from the kiss, he shoved himself up onto one knee, the other leg
coming to straddle Dick's legs. He hitched himself forward, ducking up and
under Dick's neck, drawing in another deep breath and then licking up the
column of his neck, sinking his teeth in at the juncture of neck and jaw; not
enough to break skin, but enough to hurt the slightest. His tongue swiped over
the area as his hands moved to shove Dick's shirt up, eager to explore him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Damian thought Dick was being suspiciously
compliant, that he was just allowing Damian full reign of their actions even
with not really having finished their conversation. But he ignored the voice of
reason for now, telling it to shut the hell up and let him have his moment,
even if it would be only one moment for his entire life. It was better that
than none, after all.
He pulled back, easily pulling Dick's shirt over his head, tossing it aside,
seeing it drape over the coffee table in his peripheral vision. His hands slid
over Dick's chest, easing over tightly budded nipples and then down over well-
defined muscles. Damian's eyes traveled the expanse several times, all the way
down to the dip of Dick's hips and that stretch of skin just above his jeans...
the stretch he could imagine pushing his cock against until he came. A groan
wrenched free of his throat at that particular image and he forced his gaze
upward. Up over his pecks again and then to his shoulders, over powerful
biceps... and then to the little bit of hair he could see peeking out from
under Dick's arm. He knew Dick's scent would be powerful there, so masculine
and so desperately needed. His mind lewdly supplied him with the image of his
face pushed against his armpit, gasping in lungful after lungful of Dick-
scented air. His cock gave a harsh throb and he let out a keening sound before
he could stop it.
A second later, he had Dick's arms over his head, hands exploring his triceps
and then running down over slightly damp pits. He brought one hand away,
sniffing it without a single care as to how it looked. He darted his tongue out
and tasted his own hand, his eyelids fluttering closed.
"Jesus, Dami..." Dick's voice was soft, clearly in awe. "That's why you took my
clothing."
Damian's eyes fluttered open. He knew how arousal fundamentally affected
someone and he was certain his pupils were blown, his gaze half-drugged in
appearance, and his face felt flushed, so he could only assume it would show.
He let his hand rub down over his own shirt and then lower, to his aching
length, squeezing through his pants and giving it a few good grabs to ease some
of the urgency. "It's biological, you know..." He couldn't believe how easily
his voice still sounded like he wasn't nearly masturbating himself right then.
His hips tilted against his hand and he formed his hand around himself as best
he could through his jeans, rubbing quicker. Fire started up along his thighs
and groin, his actions bringing him quickly closer to no return, even as he
held Dick's gaze steadily. "The smell of you... of your sweat and self... it
drives me crazy. I noticed when I got back, when you gave me your shirt to
sleep in." He made quick work of popping the button and lowering the zipper on
his jeans, hand sliding inside and grasping his cock again.
He gave a little grunt as he started to actually stroke off, his eyelids
fluttering for a moment, hips pushing forward. He pushed the other hand - the
one he hadn't wiped over himself yet - against his face and inhaled deeply.
Another pleased sound escaped him, his arm moving quicker, orgasm building up
faster with that heavenly scent in his face. "Need... this." His eyelids closed
and his movements started to grow jerky, his cock feeling like it was straining
against the inside of his boxer briefs, ready to unload at any second. Little
needy sounds began to leave him, his legs trembling as he neared his peak.
Damian gave a gasp as Dick's hands hauled him into his lap, fingertips
venturing up under his shirt, pushing it up to his underarms and then gliding
back down, across his nipples and then down to his quickly moving hand. Dick's
fingers closed over his wrist, squeezing. "Let me see this."
The whimper that left Damian's lips was completely uncalled for and irritation
immediately filled his gaze. Somehow, he managed to get his hand to stop
moving, despite being so close he could taste it. His hips gave a few jerks of
their own, trying to seek the last needed contact as he fumbled and then shoved
his pants down over his hips, resting them mid-thigh, his cock on full display
within a second. Another sound of need left him and he wasn't even remotely
gentle when he grabbed his cock again, starting to jerk off in clear
desperation.
His hips pumped a couple times and then canted forward, his muscles straining.
A series of whined grunts left him before he actually cried out in an
alarmingly needy fashion. He panted for breath he didn't really need and
finally, he moved to push the hand he'd still not used otherwise against his
nose, inhaling Dick's scent again. Almost... so close. More gasping, whimpering
sounds left him and he didn't even try to resist when Dick pulled his hand away
from his face, cupping him behind the neck and pulling him down against his
neck. He took in a shuddering breath and turned his head, moving the few inches
he needed to in order to get a far more heady scent. His cock throbbed with the
actual source right there and he thrust against his fist a few more times,
crying out and then letting out a relieved moan as he started to cum.
Pulse after pulse of his orgasm washed over him, his hand still giving little
jerky strokes through it all. He rested his face against Dick's chest, his face
so close to where he wanted to bury it, even now, even as he was more sated
than he'd ever been in his life. He wiped his hand on the inside of his boxer
briefs, not bothering to tuck himself back in, and just rested there, catching
his breath.
Dick's fingers threaded through his hair, soothing in a way. "You should know
how you affect me." Dick's voice was a low rumble, deeper than Damian was used
to hearing it.
Damian nuzzled the area and then drew himself back, looking down to see Dick's
pants were strained obscenely, his cock a prominent outline against the fabric.
It left little to the imagination and instantly Damian was ready again, arousal
swarming through him like it'd never been sated at all. "I want to taste you."
Dick's hand moved to the back of his neck again, squeezing lightly. "Not yet...
I don't... I don't think we should move so quickly."
Disbelief flooded Damian's gaze as he pulled up to meet Dick's eyes. "You're
joking. King of the one night stands says it's too quick?"
"King of the one night stands doesn't want this to be like that."
Damian sank back onto his knees, his hand sliding over Dick's abdomen to the
top of his pants, just resting there. "Do for me what I just did for you then."
"If I do, I won't stop..." Dick's voice sounded clearly regretful. "I want this
too much to hold back once I get something. I'll convince myself it won't be a
problem if I do..."
Damian shifted, wetting his lips, and then pushed himself to his feet, slipping
his boxer briefs up over himself. "Then I'm going to go shower... and you're
going to do whatever you want - or don't want - to do while I'm in there. I'll
give you fifteen, nearly exactly." Turning on his heel, Damian made his way
down the short hallway, stepping into the small room and closing the door. He
turned on the shower and pulled the curtain, ditching his clothing, and then
getting into the stall. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and
imagined what Dick was probably doing. His hand so quick to open his pants and
ease his aching flesh from it. His fingers so tight around his shaft as his
muscles strained while he stroked. Damian's own hand came down to duplicate
these efforts on his own length, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to
prevent the noises he wanted to make, the quick sounds of his hand over his
shower-slick cock already explicit enough.
It didn't even take him two minutes before he was splattering the floor with
his cum, his hips rocking as he emptied himself. "Dick," he breathed out,
easing himself down onto the floor, letting his heartbeat return to normal, his
breathing even out. Even as it did, he was heady with his release, with the
achievements of the night. At least... he knew Dick felt the same way now. At
least... this wasn't a lost cause. A smile curved his lips as he tilted his
head backwards, a few muscles easing at the action. Yes. There was hope.
***** Chapter 5 *****
The night wind was stiff, the first faint swirls of snow dancing on the air
this high up. None of it would have a prayer of reaching the ground just yet,
the city below too filled with humanity, with grime and garbage, to let
something so pure and pristine as snow touch it just yet. Damian sank down into
a crouch, one arm resting on his thigh, hand dangling between his thighs, his
gaze casting out over the city so far below him. He liked it up here, so far
away from everyone else. It was the one place he came when he wanted to be
utterly alone, when he needed to clear his mind and just exist for a while.
Below the lights of the city flickered more and more to life, coming on as the
workers returned to their homes for the night. He remained there, unmoving for
a period of time that would have left anyone else frozen solid, would have left
them with teeth chattering and mind focused only on the discomfort of the body.
It was his own displacement of mind, his own trance that kept him from feeling
such things. Of course, he wasn't entirely gone from it like he used to be able
to do. No son of the Bat would be so foolish in a world like this one. Not
anymore.
The sky darkened from the false-dark of pre-night into the hours between old
light and new; those hours where the worst terrors of Gotham were unleashed,
the ones where they were needed more than any other time. Damian drew in a
deeper breath, willing his body temperature at least a few degrees higher than
it was. Better blood flow meant better agility and better agility meant living
longer. He drew himself up, his hand moving to hold onto the beam beside him,
his head cocking to the side ever so faintly. "You know I come here to be
alone..."
The shadows seemed to shift and Bruce emerged from them just enough for Damian
to set his eyes on. They regarded one another for a long, silent, moment. It
seemed to stretch into eternity before Bruce finally broke it, his voice still
Batman's own, a habit hard to break when in the suit and cowl. "Sometimes alone
isn't what you need."
Damian's hand tightened on the beam as he kept his body temperature slowly
rising up, spreading life through his muscles once again. "What makes you think
it isn't this time?" His words were spoken in the voice he knew Bruce expected
of him, ever the petulant child of Bruce Wayne, though he felt none of the
malice attached to the sound of them. Sometimes he wondered if Bruce knew that
or if he was getting better at hiding the truth, even from his own father.
"You're at a crossroads in your life. There's a decision to be made and you're
the only one who can make it. Even the other involved in it can't make this
choice." He was quiet for a moment. "But you need to be certain you've looked
at every angle of it before acting."
Dropping his back against the beam, Damian slowly crossed his arms, eyes
piercing behind his mask. He was tired of dancing around this with Bruce, tired
of the past three months of Dick's 'going slow' and Bruce's un-asked-for
commentary. Tired of Alfred's unsolicited gifts and tired of hiding. Maybe that
was really why he was up here. It wasn't a decision about Dick at all. It was
about himself; Bruce was right about that. "I love him." He didn't fuss about
the wording, didn't bother holding back the truth that was bone-deep by now.
Maybe he should have been a little uncertain, a little irritated by what he
once would have deemed an irrational reaction to another human being. But he'd
come to terms with that little gem of information a few months earlier and now
he saw no reason to hold it back from Bruce.
"Does he know?"
So maybe Bruce didn't know everything then. Damian shifted his hands, bringing
one slightly behind him to hold the beam as he eased himself down onto the one
beneath him, stretching out on it and settling again. "Does it matter?"
"Only you can tell me if it does."
"So helpful." There it was, that snippy little sarcastic shit of a child act
again. That was getting old, too. But old defenses sometimes died hard. He let
his gaze fall across the city to his side again, to the puff of his and Bruce's
breath on the chilly air as it left them. He got the idea that Bruce would wait
him out forever if he didn't give him an actual response. "It does."
"Then you know what the only choice is."
Damian closed his eyes, feeling his emotions get the better of him for a
singular second in time. Weakness... that's what this emotion was. Love was a
way to become gutted in an instant, a way to feel the pain of loss and the
bitterness of having someone ripped away from you. But he'd also seen what a
lack of love did to someone. A chill that would never be filled, an ache for
companionship filled by an endless parade of women that meant nothing until...
someone did and only got pushed away. A son you didn't know and a life started
in treasonous hell for that son. His jaw tensed and his teeth clenched for an
instant. He'd tell Dick if it took him everything he was to say it, then.
He draped one arm over his knee and huffed out a humorless laugh. "Tell me...
how long have you known then."
"Before you did, I'd fathom."
"How long." Damian wasn't interested in vague answers or illusions of the
truth. He wanted actuality and accountability.
"Since before you left."
"-tt-" Damian shook his head, finally opening his eyes and turning his head to
look back up at Bruce. "It wasn't like that before I left, you know."
"If it had been, I'd have put a stop to it." Bruce's gaze was hard, his eyes
like glass as he stared down at Damian. For the first time, Damian took note he
had his old cowl on, the one without the white lenses.
"But you didn't stop it when I came back... why not?"
"You're older than your age." Bruce looked away then. "And it wouldn't have
stopped you anyway." It wasn't a question, wasn't anything but surefire fact.
"He's cautious with you. More so than I thought he would have been." So Bruce
didn't know everything then... didn't predict how slowly Dick was trying to
ease him into this, how many chances he'd had to leave or tell him to stop or
decide he didn't want it.
Damian kept his comments about how frustrating that was to himself, certain his
own father didn't want to know what his son and his ward were or were not up to
in the dead of the nights. At least not the specifics. "Do you think he loves
me?"
"Ask him for yourself. I'd not tell him of your feelings and I won't tell you a
word of his either."
"Then you've already had this talk with him." Again, not a question, just a
resigned fact.
"I had this talk with him the night after you spent the night in Blüdhaven and
he left his bike in my drive. I haven't felt the need to have it again.
Things... have changed since then, have they not?"
"Things change every single day." Damian pulled his feet under himself and rose
up. He reached for the line that had brought him up here, giving it a test, and
then swung out down through the middle of the tower, loosening his grip enough
to slide down the rope until he swung in on the unfinished fifteenth floor,
landing neatly in the same place he always did. He sidestepped and listened as
Bruce followed him. The lights of a police cruiser lit up and made for the park
on the east side of Gotham. "We've got work to do." Without waiting on a
response, he ran for the edge and leapt, shooting a line out and carrying it
down a few floors, repeating the process until the was on the fifth floor.
Another rush for the still glass-free window and he made the jump to the next
building.
The night wrapped around him, the warmth of this life pulling him safely into
its arms, telling him her secrets and whispering her thanks. Four blocks over a
third shadow joined them and the smallest ghost of a smile slid over Damian's
lips.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Damian sat with his back pressed against the headboard of Dick's bed, his legs
stretched out and the blankets settled over his lap. He could still hear Dick
in the shower in the next room and he took the time now to ease his mind of all
of his fears over this step he was taking. Even after his talk with Bruce, he
still hadn't spoken with Dick just yet. He hadn't found the time until now if
he was truly honest. Things just hadn't calmed down for several weeks, between
his newly forced personal studies and their particular brand of nightlife, an
evening where he could be here instead of at Wayne Manor was rare. As it was,
he'd not even told Bruce he was leaving, though he made certain it was more
than obvious that he had, not really wanting a Bat-tail for the night. He'd
patrolled the area along the border while he waited on Dick to come home,
knowing his approximate schedule, all the while monitoring Bruce's
communications to make sure he didn't tip Dick off. Once he was sure Dick would
be home, he'd disabled the alarm system silently, slipping in through the front
door, and then rearmed everything. The only thing out of place was himself and
the outfit he'd stashed under Dick's dresser.
The shower turned off and Damian waited, listening to Dick dry off and finish
his bathroom routine, the sink running for a minute or so and then the clatter
of a comb on the counter a while after that. The bathroom door clicked open,
the light already off inside of it, and Dick's feet approached the area. He
stopped well short of the screen that sectioned off his bed from the rest of
the main room and the slight sound of wood against plastic came to Damian.
"Show yourself," came Dick's voice, quiet and deadly serious.
"It's just me..." Damian drew one leg up, resting his arm across his knee,
making sure the sheets were still in place. "No need to bludgeon me to death
tonight, Dick. I mean, I guess if you're into the rough stuff, we could try it
out, but just doesn't seem your style." The barest hint of a smirk spread over
his lips.
Dick stepped around the screen, a baseball bat dangling from one of his hands,
his towel held closed by the other. "How'd you not trip the alarm?"
"I've been in here at least twenty nights already... you seriously think I
didn't notice all the weak points by now?" Damian huffed out a little annoyed
sound. "-tt- I'm not an idiot."
"Didn't think you were... just didn't think you were looking for a way to break
into my apartment when you were invited in already." Dick leaned the bat
against the dresser and padded to the bed, easing himself onto the other side
of it, one foot still on the floor, the other leg curled up on the bed, towel
still firmly held in place.
Damian ignored the bait to tell Dick why he'd broken in instead of using the
key he'd been given and the code he very well knew for the alarm. He let his
mask down very carefully, very intentionally. Everything was on full display
for Dick if he only chose to look for it. "I thought tonight we could, perhaps,
find our way past these hard-set rules of yours."
Dick's breath hitched just the slightest, barely enough for Damian to notice it
before he regulated it. "Dami... I still think we sh-"
"Save it." Damian's head tilted to the side, his eyes piercing as he gazed at
Dick. "Take it slow... that's always the answer. But I think I deserve to know
the real reason why. It's not the public eye of it, because we're not in it.
It's not Bruce, because he knows about us already. It's not my age, because if
it was, you'd not have let me do a single thing with you at all. But something
keeps you from touching me the way we both want and I think... I deserve to
know what it is, at the very least."
Damian could see the way Dick swallowed, the way his body tensed and then
forcibly relaxed. He was at war with himself inside and it couldn't have been
more obvious to Damian that that was what was happening. Dick's hand came to
flutter, feather-light over Damian's wrist, gently touching and then falling
away. He turned his face toward the window, something like defeat settling over
him. "You're right, it's none of those things. As terrible as it is that I can
ignore a few of them, even knowing they're technically wrong. I can't even
bring myself to feel the remorse I should for corrupting you like this-"
"Corrupting?" Damian's laugh was harsh, bitter for a second before it softened.
"Dick... I'm afraid you've got that all wrong. I was a lost cause in that
department before I ever hit the double-digits. Corruption is nothing like
this... it's not feeling something for someone you shouldn't. It's not wanting
to give in to a natural desire. No... corruption is death and murder...
corruption is the near genocide of a people. Corruption is how I was raised and
corruption is the life I cast aside for this one." Damian shifted then, pushing
the sheet from his body, pushing himself up onto his knees and moving until he
settled across Dick's lap, gently easing him back onto the bed by his
shoulders. His fingertips framed Dick's face, gently caressing as he let him
see everything he had to offer - body, heart, and soul.
"This... this is not corruption, Dick. I have my own free will and while I
don't claim that your actions won't alter my own - just as everyone's can - I
will tell you that if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be." Pressing
himself forward, he rested his forehead against Dick's own, their breath
mingling on the air between them, lips so close, but he didn't close the
distance. "I love you, Dick Grayson... I accept that with a certainty as
unshakable as the fact that I hold back every time we spar now... as complete
as the fact that I could kill you right now and you'd never stand a chance at
stopping me."
Dick's laugh came from him as if it were a release of a thousand things rolled
into one. Relief seemed to flood his body as it relaxed underneath Damian's
touch. "Only you would nearly threaten ability to kill me right after telling
me you love me."
Pressing his cheek to Dick's own, Damian closed his eyes, lips close to Dick's
ear. "And only you would find liberation in my words, in words that once would
have trapped you as surely as the sun would set."
"And only you would be so blind as to not know I've loved you all this time."
Dick's hands slid up Damian's sides, his touch burning hot to Damian's skin as
he moved them over his body. Damian's back arched, his hips rolling forward, a
quiet sigh leaving his lips. "So responsive..."
Damian was fast, his hands moving, one to grasp the back of Dick's neck, the
other sliding down between them to wrench Dick's towel open, his own body
moving just enough to push the material out of the way before he settled again,
this time with a soft sound of appreciation. "Show me everything you've
imagined all these months." It wasn't a plea, as surely as it wasn't a
question.
Dick's arms pulled Damian closer, shifting him until he was settled properly in
his lap and Dick pushed himself up just enough to be sitting there on the side
of the bed, Damian in his lap. His mouth caught Damian's own in a searing kiss
and everything Damian hadn't felt in every prior kiss came through in this one.
Unbridled lust... every restraint Dick had ever placed upon himself with Damian
was gone. By the time Dick moved to his jaw and then to his neck, Damian was
already getting the picture of why everyone wanted to end up in Dick's bed at
some point or other. He was nothing if not unsteadying, his passion dizzying
and his intensity gratifying in a way Damian was sure had nothing to do with
his own lack of experience.
Soft sighs spilled from Damian's lips, noises he didn't even try to stop as he
rocked his hips against Dick's - his lover's... that thought was something to
hold onto. One of Dick's hands left him, the other finding his length, wrapping
around it and solidly pumping him. He arched into Dick's touch, breathing out a
quiet half-plea of, "Yes..." as he moved into the touch. Finally having Dick
touch him like this was nearly indescribable. His body moved as it saw fit and
he refused to reign it, letting everything free as it came to him. The urge to
rock into the touch, the urge to moan in complete abandon, the urge to hold
onto Dick's shoulders so tightly he left tiny half-moons pressed into his skin
where he'd been holding as he dragged his nails down over Dick's biceps.
Dick's free hand slipped over his backside, fingertips wet as they lightly
rubbed circles against his most intimate of places. His hips rocked back into
it, hands sliding down over Dick's chest, exploring the expanse he already knew
from the tiny explorations he'd been granted over their time together. One
finger pressed lightly against him and he paused, tightening and then forcing
himself to relax. He wasn't a fool... he'd done his research, knew exactly what
to expect from this. No surprises; after all what kind of Robin would he be if
he wasn't prepared? Dick's finger slowly sank into him and he let out a stunted
little grunt, dropping his head against Dick's shoulder and closing his eyes.
His own hand trailed down Dick's chest, slowly finding its way toward his cock.
He'd always been stopped short of this prize, every time they'd come together.
Damian had been given his pleasure, time and again, but Dick had never once
found it from anything but his own hand in the privacy of a room devoid of
Damian. Each and every time, the excuse had been the same... not prepared to
take it further, they should wait... and he wouldn't hold back if Damian were
even present once he gave in and touched himself.
It had seemed perverse at first, before it had grown irritating. Perhaps even
endearing for a while... but now... now none of that mattered, did it? Damian
palmed Dick's length, wrapping his fingers around him and giving him a few
solid strokes, earning a harsh jerk of Dick's hips, the finger inside of him
pushing in further. Damian gasped, pushing back until Dick's finger was all the
way inside of him, rocking against it, his cock already straining from their
actions. "More," he barely breathed. "God... more." Reduced to begging for
it... what would Talia have said? Or Bruce for that matter? He hid his little
grin against the side of Dick's neck. They'd have been horrified to be seeing
this, that's what. He rocked his hips a few times and then squeezed around
Dick's finger, releasing when he felt the second lightly smooth over his skin.
Dick's finger left for a moment and when it came back in, it was with another,
and Damian could have sworn he was going to lose it right then and there. His
hands came to fist in the hair at the nape of Dick's neck, holding on for all
he was worth as Dick fucked him quickly with those two digits.
Just when he was sure he was going to lose it, Dick pulled his fingers free and
reached down to grab Damian's hand, which had been frantically jerking at
Dick's cock as if it were his own. Dick's fingers squeezed his wrist and Damian
sucked in breath after breath, his vision blurry and his body trembling
slightly. Dick's touch left him completely for a moment and then eased his hand
back out of the way. When he looked down between them, Dick was carefully
rolling a condom down over his length, his touch practiced and easy. Dick
crumbled a small packet in his hand, letting the contents drip down over his
cock, the lubricant glistening in the light from the window.
Once Dick's hand moved, Damian didn't hesitate. He pushed himself up, his hands
on Dick's shoulders to steady himself. Slipping closer to Dick, he let him
reach down and do what he needed to as he slowly let his knees slide out,
lowering him onto Dick's lap. He let out the neediest of sounds as he felt the
warmth of Dick's cock pressed tight against him. His hips canted as his body
told him what he needed to do and let gravity take care of the rest, slowly
easing him down onto his lap. Pressing his face against Dick's neck, he
breathed in, eyelids fluttering as he found that already their scents were
mingling... mixing into one and the same. His hand pressed over Dick's heart as
he rolled his hips experimentally, another sound leaving him at the feeling of
it.
"Just like that," Dick breathed against his hair. Damian could feel the
restrained tension in Dick's body, the way he was holding back even while he
was giving in. He was letting Damian lead this and that knowledge kick-started
Damian into moving quicker. He began to rock his hips, once in a while,
grinding them down in a circular motion and then coming back up fast. The more
he moved, the braver he became with his motions, the more the tension faded
from Dick's body, the more he let himself move beneath Damian.
Damian's mouth found the juncture of Dick's collarbone and throat, his tongue
flicking against the hollow there, something that proved to be the last straw
for Dick. Damian could feel the change before it happened, feel the last bit of
hesitation evaporate as Dick's hands settled on his hips, holding him still as
he rolled them over, slid them up the bed just far enough he could find the
traction he needed. And then he was pounding into Damian, all the moans and
beautiful sounds he'd been holding back pouring out of his mouth as he staked a
very real and viable claim over Damian's body.
Damian could sense it all, everything about the moment telling him the words
Dick hadn't returned to him. His hands splayed over Dick's back and his thighs
fell open wide, giving Dick better access as he pushed up into each thrust,
heels digging into the mattress as he met him halfway on every single one,
sheer desperation to cum driving him now. His cock was an aching fire between
them now, his belly slick with pre-cum, and his balls so tight it would have
hurt if he wasn't so wrapped up in Dick's body right then. Dick groaned out
something that sounded like his name and then a louder half-cry, his hips
snapping forward and stilling, his face dissolving into the mask of bliss that
Damian had only dreamed about.
Damian's hands moved to frame Dick's face, his eyes bright as he stared up into
his face, watching him with pure awe. "You're... finally," he breathed, his
breath hitching and his hips shifting just the barest amount before his own
orgasm slid through his body, taking his breath away completely. He arched and
held it as he rode it out, eyes rolling back in his head, neck arching until he
was lifting himself up off the bed with the sheer force of his tension. A
shudder wracked through him and, finally, blessedly, he eased himself back down
against the bed, boneless and spent. His hands slid down to Dick's arms,
squeezing lightly and then falling away as he panted for his breath. A smile
curved his lips as he opened his eyes to peer up at Dick, watching the array of
emotions cross his face. "Worth waiting for...." A grin slid over Dick's face
and it was, quite possibly, the best thing Damian had ever seen.
Come hell or high water... this was his life now. Dick and Bruce and this.
Chapter End Notes
     Somehow I'm so proud of this... that's rare. But I really am. Almost
     600 written things and I'm finally proud of another one? Whoops... I
     think I'm stuck in another fandom, what do you think? ;)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!