Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4696169.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_(Comics), DCU_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Jason_Todd
  Character:
      Jason_Todd, Dick_Grayson
  Additional Tags:
      Mirror_Universe, Earth-3, Anal_Sex, Masochism, Light_Sadism, Rough_Sex,
      Wall_Sex, Dom/sub_Undertones, First_Time, Hand_Jobs, Biting, Marks,
      Consensual_Violence, Tumblr_Prompt, sub!Jason
  Series:
      Part 3 of Earth-3_Storyline
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-31 Words: 10081
****** Tell Me 'No' ******
by Skalidra
Summary
     Jason can't help watching Dick - Nightingale - when he's training. He
     moves like death in motion, and Jason's brain seems to be hardwired
     to see that danger as something insanely attractive. The only catch
     is that Dick doesn't like being watched when he chooses to train
     alone, and Jason's not that subtle about it. It gets him in a lot of
     trouble, but it might not turn out as badly as Jason is sure it's
     going to.
Notes
     Hello! Alright, so this is another prompts. Requested by KateMintTea,
     prompt number 22, "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I
     don't notice." Specifically asking for Earth-3, JayDick, from a point
     in the timeline before Jason's death. So, I wrote their first time.
     Mmmhmmm. Yep. This happened. (For information, Jason is 14 here, and
     Dick is 16.) Enjoy, darling! I hope you like it!
     (Also, I finished that Young Justice Jason/Roy story. It's glorious,
     and about 80k. After I get assigned an artist to draw me stuff for
     it, and the Bang officially ends, the whole thing will go up at once.
     Really looking forward to what you guys think of that. XD)
It's like fucking art in motion.
Dick moves like killing is a dance, like all the targets are just props used to
show off. I'm not really supposed to be watching it, but in my defense I'm
otherwise alone at the Roost and I haven't got anything else to do. Watching
the feed of Dick in the combat simulator is really the only entertainment
around here, unless I head upstairs and try for something. Or I join him in
there.
I raise my hand to my mouth so I can muffle a curse against the back of it,
tilting my head back against the chair as my seriously inappropriate reaction
to Dick's movements makes itself known. This is starting to get fucking stupid.
I can't just pop a boner everytime I see Dick do something deadly or awe
inspiring. That's a really great way to get myself killed as soon as he
notices; I've seen enough to know that Dick doesn't respond well to come ons he
didn't flat out invite.
I'm established as Talon; losing that because I was dumb enough that I couldn't
control myself around Nightingale would be a monumentally lame way to go. No
matter how understandable it might be. I've seen people lose fingers, limbs, or
lives for irritating him, and I don't want to be another person on that list.
I'm really done with this hormonal teenage bullshit. I just want to be able to
be anywhere near Dick when he's in a fight, and not have to catch my breath
because I can't see anything but the arch of his back. Can't follow anything
but those lines of blue that draw the eye to his spine, or down the back of his
legs. Can't look away from the way his mouth curls into a smirk or a grin
— not a smile — when he's really enjoying himself. Can't ever stop listening
when he laughs, or to the sound of his voice when he's leaning in and speaking
commands in my ear. Especially that.
God, his habit of getting way too close is going to get me killed. I mostly
learned to ignore it, but then all this bullshit kicked in and now that's a
total impossibility. I can never ignore how the warmth of his skin leaks
through his suit, or the way his fingers always linger a fraction of a second
too long, or the deep husk of his voice when he's barely speaking above a
breath. It's a miracle he hasn't noticed my reactions already.
I risk a glance down at the screens — the audio is turned off — and then focus
my attention on them. He's gone. I thought he was in the middle of an exercise,
not near the end of one, but maybe I miscalculated. Maybe I was wrong.
If he catches me watching him…
A hand clasps over my shoulder, and I spit out a yelped, "Fuck!" and whip
around as much as I can. It's Dick leaning over the chair, the fingers of his
right hand digging into my shoulder and a smile on his lips. Not a big one, so
I'm probably not that badly fucked. Thank god.
"Bruce not in tonight?" he asks, while he pulls back with his hand and pins me
against the chair.
I shake my head. "Some meeting; said it was better if he went alone."
Those fingers dig in a little harder, and then he lets me go. "It happens." Of
course then his fingers slide higher, up across my throat. It's not a tight
enough grip to be dangerous, not yet, but it keeps my head tilted up and back
towards him. "Jason, you know I don't like people watching when I train by
myself."
It's times like these that I curse my street upbringing, because the first
response that snaps into my mind is sarcasm and innuendo, and I don't react
fast enough to stop myself from saying it. "Well when you put on a show, and
I've got tickets, can you blame me for watching?" My mouth curls in a small
grin as I say it, and I try not to show any of the uncertainty in my chest.
Dick can be hard to predict.
His fingers tighten on my throat, pulling me up along the chair until I have to
brace with my arms because he's holding me too high for my ass to touch the
seat anymore. "You weren't invited, little wing." Dick speaks with a smile, but
I can read the threat it's supposed to mean. Family benefits; I know when Dick
is actually pleased and when he's a step away from gutting someone.
He lets go, and I fall back to the chair. I resist the urge to take in a deep
breath, and keep my gaze trained up at him. I'd be a damn liar if I said that
his show of power, that the feeling of his hand against my throat, didn't turn
me on. God, I'm kind of fucked up. It can't be healthy to get turned on when a
killer proves that he's deadly.
I shiver when Dick's fingers trail up the center of my throat, flicking my chin
up before he withdraws. My eyes shutter closed for a moment that I pray he
either doesn't see, or chalks up to fear. "Why don't you come with me, Jay?"
My eyes snap open, and I have no choice but to turn towards him as he grips the
back of the chair and spins it around. "Go with you?" I echo. "For what?" I
swallow, and then offer a small grin. "I'm sorry about watching, alright? I was
bored, and it's impressive. Should have asked first."
Dick ignores my small rant; my attempt at getting out of a beating I'm almost
sure is coming. "I could use a chance to cool down," he says, and I'm almost
relieved that it's a smirk that curls his mouth, not a smile. "A little
relaxation after a good workout. Come on, come over to the mats, little wing."
Well, you don't refuse an order from Nightingale. Just because he's not wearing
his mask doesn't mean that he isn't wearing the persona just like a costume.
I get up, following Dick towards the enclosed training area. We've got a more
open one too, but Dick tends to prefer sparring where he can push people up
against walls. No risk of going over the sides of one of the Roost's levels
either.
That's the first thing Dick does when we're both inside, gripping me by the
upper arm and swinging me around, slamming me up against the wall. It doesn't
feel like a fight just yet, so I hold off on reacting. Or, reacting in any kind
of a violent way. I really can't control the reaction of my body as he crowds
me against the wall, the fingers of his hand digging into my arm, and the other
hand rising to my throat. My breath catches, and I sink back against the wall a
bit to try and make sure that Dick doesn't get close enough to feel that I'm
just a little hard.
His thumb swipes across the front of my throat, the glove covering it tugging a
bit at my skin. It flicks over my Adam's apple, presses in just enough to make
my breath catch a second time, and then draws to the side. I swallow as he cups
the side of my throat, thumb pushing up to hook underneath the corner of my jaw
and tilt my head back. Like I wasn't already focused on him.
I stay very still.
Dick is studying me, but luckily just my face. It's a special kind of
vulnerability to have him all dressed in his suit, and me only in basic workout
clothes. Finally he smirks. "Can't resist watching me, can you, Jay?"
I swallow again. "You're a hell of a thing to watch," is what comes out of my
mouth.
"I know." His answer is instant, but then his mouth curls in a smirk, and he
leans a little closer to me. Barely inches away. "But I've seen the way you
look at me when you think I don't notice, Jay." My heart almost stops, and I
know he can feel the sudden burst of fear that slides down my spine in a
chilling wave. I know because there's an immediate sharpening of his gaze, like
he's picking me apart for weaknesses. Like I'm just prey.
"I'm sorry, Dick. I know, I shouldn't, but I am so not in control of myself and
the way you move is just—"
I freeze up when his mouth brushes across mine. My babble stops mid-sentence.
"So there's another way to make you be quiet," he comments, with more than a
little amusement to his tone. "Alright, little wing. You sure you want to play
with fire?"
The words come on and then die on my tongue as I stare at him, and then my eyes
snap shut when his thumb releases the upwards press of my jaw and his hand
returns to gripping my throat. I suck in a sharp breath, and it's so wrong that
the threat of his hand is just another point adding to the curl of arousal in
my gut. I grit my teeth together, and then his hand squeezes and the breath
leaves me in a rush that I'm ashamed to say is definitely a groan. I open my
eyes after that, and find Dick looking at me with something between amusement
and interest.
It's the look I've seen him give particularly stupid gang members before he
tears them to pieces, and I can't help the shudder that slides down my spine.
Dick's mouth curls into a smirk, and then he's leaning in and kissing me. Real
this time, more than just a brush of his lips. He holds my head up with his
grip on my throat, lips pressing down over mine. The sharp bite to my lower lip
makes me gasp, and then his tongue is in my mouth. His other hand lets go of my
arm. I can feel his fingertips sliding down my side as his tongue slides
through my mouth, and then I have to gasp again when that hand lowers and grips
me through my sweatpants.
Dick pulls back, hands staying in place but his mouth drawing back so I can
breathe. I tilt my head a little farther back, squeezing my eyes tightly closed
for a moment before I open them again. My lip stings a little bit, and his grip
on my throat is a little too tight to be comfortable, but I'm starting to think
that in my own fucked up world those might be good things. There's a tiny bit
of fear there, sure, but there always is when I'm around Dick. Being around him
is always dangerous, but I'm pretty sure that's half of what makes me so damn
attracted.
Denying that the grip on my throat is what's making me hard would make me a
fucking liar.
"I don't need an answer, Jason," Dick murmurs, "but if this isn't what you
want, you need to tell me. All you have to say is 'no;' I'll stop."
I swallow, almost moan at the feeling of his hand pressing against the
movement, and give a second shudder. "Dick," I manage, "I haven't…. That was—"
My first kiss, but the words stubbornly refuse to leave my throat. His hand
loosens a little bit, and then something lights in his eyes that I can't
identify. But it's still interested, and it doesn't feel immediately life
threatening.
I do moan when his hand squeezes my cock, my eyes shuttering for a moment. Then
the hand at my throat is forcing my head up a few inches, and I look back up at
him. "Will I be your first, little wing?" Dick asks, with just a hint of
teasing to his tone. "Was that the first time someone's kissed you?" I pull my
gaze away from Dick, hands clenching at my sides, and then he gives a
reprimanding sound. It immediately makes me jump to attention, damn combat
reflexes, and I focus on him. This time, he smiles. "Oh, you're mine tonight,
Jay. I can't pass up an opportunity like that."
The smile is what makes me tense up, and I can't seem to relax as he pushes
forward. One knee shoves my thighs open, and then I'm split around his legs, my
crotch pressed up against his. All I can feel is the solidity of the cup
covering him, but that really doesn't matter. Not with how close he is, and the
way his hand strokes me once and then lets go. His hand squeezes my throat
again, and my jaw clenches for just a second.
"Jason," Dick whispers, calling my attention. "One time privilege, because
you're family. Do you want me to be gentle, take you upstairs and into a bed
for your first time? If you don't, then I'm going to take you right here, up
against this wall." He smirks, the fingers of his free hand trailing up the
center of my chest. "At least to start. Might pull you down to the mats for a
second round, if you're in any condition."
I stare at him, trying to at least tamp down the arousal burning in my gut. Not
that it works. Especially not with that image in my head of Dick fucking me
against the mats. He waits for me to work things out, and then to speak.
"Gentle isn't you."
His eyes widen a fraction, and I can recognize the surprise as it flicks across
his face. Then satisfaction follows on its heels, and Dick leans in and kisses
me again. I recognize it as a reward. "No," he agrees, his voice quiet between
our mouths, "it's not. Don't worry, little wing. I know what I'm doing; I'll
take care of you."
I give a quiet sound of want, and then manage to spit out the words on my
tongue. "I trust you."
He draws back a little bit, and I open my eyes to meet his gaze. "Sure that's a
good idea, little wing?" There's a playful edge to his smirk, and I completely
miss the knife in his free hand until it's slicing up the center of my torso
and splitting the shirt in two. It draws a gasp from me, but I force myself
into stillness as he flicks it to one side and slices it across the short
sleeve, and then repeats it on the other side. The only thing still holding the
shirt up is the fact that I'm leaning on it.
I swallow when the blade presses flat against my ribs, but meet his gaze.
"You're scary as shit sometimes," I admit, then correct myself. "Most of the
time. But you're family; you won't hurt me unless you have to. Or want to." I
manage a small twist of my lips. "I think I can take that."
He watches me for a moment, and then he leans in and kisses me again. Another
reward, I'm sure of it. By the time he pulls back to look at me, that knife is
gone from his hand. "Good." The grip on my throat eases off, and then both of
his hands rise to cup my jaw and bring me in to meet the descent of his mouth.
The roll of his hips against mine makes my breath catch, and I can feel him
smirk into the kiss.
"You can touch me, Jay," he murmurs.
I almost leap to take him up on that, and then clench my hands into fists and
hold back. "Are the defenses on your suit off?" I ask, wary for a damn good
reason. I remember the first time Dick asked me to unzip his suit for him, he
left the defenses on and shocked the hell out of me. My suit took the worst of
it, but it still knocked me on my ass for awhile.
Dick laughs, and then his teeth nip at the corner of my mouth. "Yes, Jay.
They're off." At least he's never lied to me about them being deactivated so
far, just laughed at my mistake when I touched him without asking first.
I carefully raise my hands, touching his sides. I still expect to get shocked
for a moment, but after a tense second of waiting I decide it's not going to
happen. They really are off. I slide my hands gingerly up his sides. The
sensation of the suit under my fingers is familiar, but I've never just touched
it like this. Usually I touch in the middle of a spar, or some kind of
acrobatics or combat exercise. Actually touching Dick without his explicit
permission is something I was never stupid enough to do, let alone touch him
like this.
He pushes a little closer, pinning me between him and the wall, and then slides
his hands back into my hair. I go with it when he tugs my head back, and then
my breath catches in my throat when his mouth lowers to my throat. He presses
nipping kisses down the side of my throat until he apparently finds a spot he
likes, and then I have to groan when he closes his lips and teeth around that
spot and sucks. It's hard enough to be a little painful, but I really don't
give a damn. It's good.
His right hand lets go of my hair and slides down. I feel his gloved fingertips
trace down the back of my neck, along my shoulder, and then around my side and
to the small of my back. There his hand presses flat, holding pressure to keep
me held up against him. When his mouth finally pulls back I'm absolutely
certain it's left one hell of a mark.
"Come on," he murmurs, raising his head so he can say it right into my ear.
"You don't have to be shy, Jay. No one's around but you and me." His hips roll
forward against mine, and I choke out a groan and tilt my head towards Dick's.
He takes my nonverbal cue, pulling back just enough to kiss me. His tongue
takes immediate advantage of my loose jaw, slipping between my teeth in what I
recognize as a mimicry of actual fucking.
Then he's pulling away, hands releasing me. I almost voice the protest at the
tip of my tongue before I open my eyes, and before I see that he's only stepped
back a few inches, and that he's in the middle of undoing the catches of his
gloves. I swallow. He shoots me a smirk as he peels the gloves off his hands,
dropping them to the floor. It leaves his skin bare to about halfway up his
lower arms, and I watch him flex each of his hands in turn. I don't think I've
ever really looked at Dick's hands before, but I am now. His fingers are long,
callused from the hours he spends on acrobatics, and there are some small nicks
of scars here and there but nothing big enough to call attention to them.
Those hands are deadly; I've seen it. Even without anything sharp or poisonous
to use, those hands are weapons to themselves. It's probably all kinds
of wrong that I look at them, picture them around my throat, and it only adds
to the desire in the pit of my stomach. That can't be even remotely healthy.
Dick steps forward, reaching out to trace his fingers down my sides. I stare at
him as he watches me, and then have to swallow when his gaze rakes down my
chest, at the same time as his thumbs hook into the waistband of both my
sweatpants and the boxers underneath. He gives me one single second, distracted
by his dazzling, wicked smirk, before pushing them down my hips. I draw in a
breath at the cool air as both articles of clothing fall to pool around my
ankles. Dick holds my gaze for a couple of seconds, and then slowly,
deliberately, his gaze lowers. I shudder, but don't move. His fingers are light
on my hips, and I have to tip my head back to get some kind of control back.
His fingers rise to grip either side of my waist, and then he's squeezing,
calling my attention back. "Step out of those," he orders, and I snap to obey.
I kick my way out of the pants and boxers, getting them off to the side. I can
feel the flush in my cheeks, there because I'm totally naked in front of Dick
and he's still almost completely covered; neck to toes.
I swallow when his fingers slide up my sides, almost light enough to tickle,
and then reverse direction. I have to lower my gaze when his right hand pulls
back, and I watch him dig into one of the hidden pockets in his suit. He
retrieves what looks to me a bit like a packet of sauce, but as it twists
between his fingers I can read the word on the side of it. The flush steals a
little bit more of my blood, somehow.
Lube.
Dick smirks, and then my breath freezes in my fucking throat because he sinks
to his knees in front of me. He's right in front of my crotch, and as he leans
in my eyes widen. No way, right? Dick wouldn't do something that subservient,
would he? He wouldn't—
His lips press to the side of my cock, and he flashes a smirk up at me. I can't
move, can't breathe. Then his right hand wraps around my left ankle, and he's
standing, dragging my leg with him. I stay still and shocked for a moment, but
come back to the world when he forces my leg to straighten all the way out as
he rises. Until it's pointing forward and up, and he's standing in front of me,
still gripping my ankle. Then he shifts forward, and I wince as my leg gets
pushed towards my body with it.
"Fuck, Dick, I'm not that flexible."
"Hush," he murmurs, and I make a small noise of pain as he presses up against
me, and pushes my leg up against the length of my body so I'm more or less
doing a vertical split. "You can take it for me, can't you, Jay? Just relax
into the stretch." He lets go of my ankle, but he's pressed close enough that
his weight keeps my leg held up between us.
It hurts, but it's the ache of stretching, not the sharp pain of something
pushed too far. It's not going to seriously fuck up my leg. I breathe through
it for a moment, and then give a small nod. I can take it.
I get a hum of approval from Dick for my agreement, as his hand slides down my
leg. I barely even have to balance, not with him pressed so close, and that's
good because I don't think I could balance and take his touches at the same
time. The curl of his hand against my thigh, and then down on my hip, is way
too distracting. The press of his mouth to mine is even more so, at least until
the hand slides back along my ass. I twitch and then give a groan as his
fingers dip into places no one's ever been before, and places I didn't think
were that damn sensitive.
I blindly reach out to touch him, and get my hands wrapped around his torso and
pressed against his back. It's safer than anything else I could be doing, and I
still have this little voice in the back of my head that says if I move too
fast, or if I do anything too daring, Dick's going to snap and make me bleed
for it. I'm not in the least bit crazy enough to think I'm remotely in control
here, and I'm not going to press the boundaries.
He breaks the kiss, but doesn't pull away from me in the slightest. His left
hand releases its loose grip on my other hip, and then slides around my back to
join the other. "Know how this works, Jay?" he murmurs, lips brushing mine as
he speaks.
The proud part of me wants to immediately snap that yes, I do, but I pause
instead. Pause long enough to beat that part down and admit, "Only vaguely."
I know more about fucking between opposite genders — a lot more — but extensive
as a street education is, people didn't usually talk about gay sex in much more
than crude insults. It wasn't a safe leaning to have, and asking about the
actual details of it would have gotten me beaten black and blue, if I was
lucky. So I know the basic idea, but beyond that I haven't got a clue. The
basic idea was enough to fantasize about.
I can feel the edges of Dick's grin, and hear it in his voice when he speaks.
"I'll walk you through it." His hands draw back a bit, and I hear the crack and
rip of cheap plastic. "That's lube. Whatever porn tells you, you don't fuck
someone without it." I can feel the slide of his fingers between my cheeks,
slippery and wet, and my breath comes fast as one rubs against the outside of
me. "Relax." He says it with a brief kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You start
with one finger." It pushes, and I force my muscles to ease out even as my head
tilts back a little bit at the weird sensation. It's not painful, but it's
strange and it's not something I'm even remotely used to.
Dick's mouth falls to my neck, pressing small, biting kisses along my skin. At
the same time his finger moves, sliding in and out as far as it can at that
angle. It feels absurdly long, but I know that's just my mind playing tricks on
me. It doesn't feel bad either, there's definitely something in the slide of
his finger against sensitive nerve tissue that's interesting, and moving
towards actually feeling really good. There's also some mixed worry and
anticipation in my gut, because I've only caught a glimpse or two while he was
changing, but Dick's a lot bigger than just the one finger.
I feel his left hand slide back around my hip, worming between us. I moan when
he wraps it around me, the feeling of his fingers against my cock completely
new and definitely good. He laughs against my throat, then bites down
particularly hard for a moment. That feels good too.
"You don't move to a second until they're pushing back against you," he tells
me, and I swear I'm paying attention past the slow twist of his hand. "I'm
going to get you off first, Jay, while I work you open for me." His voice is a
low promise, and I shudder, tighten my grip on his back, and then swallow.
"Why?" I manage to ask in a gasp. I can feel his lips curl into what I think is
the safety of a smirk.
"You'll recover fast enough." His nose nudges against my throat, teeth grazing
as he speaks. "Coming will relax you, which will make it easier for me to get
you open. First time benefits, little wing. There's a difference between not
being gentle, and doing damage. You need to feel how it's supposed to be before
I push any harder." Both hands pick up their pace in sync, and I arch a little
bit against the unforgiving wall. A tight sound of pleasure makes it out of my
mouth. "Trust me, Jay. When I'm ready, and you're ready, I'll fuck you hard
enough to make you scream." I choke just a bit at that idea, and I can feel the
grin against my throat. "But I might settle for just making you shout my name
for tonight. We'll see."
I close my eyes and drop my head, burying it in against his shoulder. I can
still faintly feel the ache of my stretched out leg, but it's taken background
to everything else Dick's doing to me. To the slide of that finger, the hand
around my cock, and the pressure of his teeth against my throat. God, I don't
think there's going to be a clear spot of skin on my neck by the time we're
done here. There's no way I'm possibly going to be able to hide this.
His suit is a little rough against my skin, just enough to remind me that he's
mostly still covered. I know that it's not likely that he can actually feel
much of my grip with the armor in the way, and that makes me want to tear it
off his back and get my hands on his skin. It's only the thought of what he
might do to me if I try to strip him that holds me back, and it's only just
enough of a threat. The zipper is at the back of his neck, and it's only a
small reach from where my hands have settled near his shoulderblades. It would
be so easy, and then I'd be able to touch his skin.
My right hand slides up, and I clench it into a fist and force myself to stop.
I'm not going to invite him actually hurting me, not with how damn good all of
this feels. I settle for muffling my sounds against his shoulder, grinding my
forehead against the suit. It only keeps me still for a second though, and then
I give a small surrender to the desire in my stomach. I unclench my hand and
slide it up his shoulder and the back of his neck. I don't reach for the zipper
to the suit, but instead bring my hand higher and carefully curl my fingers
through some of Dick's hair.
I can feel the slight pause in the press of his mouth, but he doesn't stop me.
My moment of wariness passes, and I flex my fingers in his hair and enjoy the
feel of it. Common sense, and survival instinct, stops me from either pulling
at it, or pushing against the back of his scalp to keep him against my neck. I
just let myself grip the strands and enjoy how it feels between my fingers.
Dick's got soft hair.
His teeth nip a little harder at the next bite, and I'm pretty sure I recognize
it as a small warning. He still doesn't say anything, and the pace of both of
his hands is steady. Steady, but fast, and just right. It's dragging me towards
an edge faster than I'd like to admit.
Dick must be able to feel the heavier note to my breathing, or the restrained
twitches of motion that are all I can manage of bucking forward while my one
leg is raised between us, because he hums his approval against my skin. "That's
right," he whispers in my ear, voice low and personified fucking sin. "Give it
to me, Jay. Let me get a taste of what it's going to be like later." Another
hum, a small rock of his hips in against mine. I moan into his shoulder. "When
you come on my cock, what's it going to feel like inside you?"
"Fuck," I gasp. "Dick, god. I—" I'm bucking forward, the coil snapping low in
my gut and rebounding as I cry out. I jerk as much as I can, trapped between
the wall and Dick's body, while my left hand rakes down the material of his
suit. I shake, my mind grinding to a halt underneath the sensation of him
continuing to stroke me through my release.
Until finally I go more or less limp against him. His hands are still moving,
but slow and gentler than they were. I loosely clutch at his hair and his back,
breathing hard and letting the press of his body hold me up.
He lets go of my cock, and his hand grips my waist instead. I can feel the
wetness on his fingers, and it makes me twitch and my breathing catch, which is
about all the reaction that I can manage. He gives a small laugh into my ear,
and then his finger slips almost all the way out of me. All I can do is give a
quiet groan as he presses two of his fingers back into me. I can feel the
slight stretch, but it's not painful. He was right; I'm so boneless right now
that tensing up is nearly impossible, and his fingers slide smoothly inside of
me. Now, it feels pretty good.
"Can I just lean on you?" I mumble against his shoulder, twisting my head to
lie horizontal so I'm facing his neck.
Another small laugh. "That's fine, Jay," he answers, lips pressing just below
my ear. "Just sit back and enjoy; I'll take care of you."
I take him at his word. It's easy to relax into the solidity of his body, to
let myself drift in sensation and lazy satisfaction. I stay that way for a long
while, with his fingers rolling in and out of me and his mouth still working
away at my neck. Slower now, with less of an edge of teeth and more hot, wet
suction. The flicker of his tongue against my skin is unlike anything else I've
ever felt.
Dick's right about something else too. By the time I come fully back to myself,
and he's got three fingers in me, I'm starting to get hard again too. That
might have something to do with the fact that his fingers are curling inside me
at the end of every stroke, and barely brushing something that's lighting a
dull but persistent pleasure at the base of my spine. I'm not really sure what
it is, but it feels damn good and I'm not going to stop him. I've wanted
something like this for months, and I'm not going to fight him now just because
I don't really understand the feelings. It's good, what else matters?
When I tighten my grip on his back, and give my first rock forward against him,
his teeth graze a little harder against my skin. Then he gives a sound of
approval into my ear, quickly followed by, "There we go, little wing. All hard
and opened for me, aren't you?" He doesn't wait for me to string together some
kind of answer.
His fingers pull out of me — I give a moan into his suit — and then he's
carefully guiding my leg down from between us. Muscle twinges from the final
relief from the stretch, but it's not enough to pry a reaction out of me. Not
when so many other things are demanding my attention. Like the strange way that
I feel empty, and I keep expecting to clench down on his fingers but there's
nothing there to grip. Like the way I want something there to stop that
slightly uncomfortable feeling.
My foot touches the ground, and then I have to pull my head up as Dick draws
away from me. I almost protest, until I realize that he's moving to strip out
of his suit. Then I clench my jaw down to keep myself silent and just watch. He
smirks, like he knows exactly what was going through my head. It wouldn't
surprise me if he did.
I watch him reach back and pull the zipper down — I can hear it, even if I
can't actually see it splitting open over the line of his spine — and then
slide his arms out of the upper portion. I get lost staring at his chest for a
few moments, at the defined muscle and the patterns of old scars I'll probably
never know the stories behind. He's bigger than me, and taller too. It comes
with the two extra years and change he's got on me, and the longer time he
spent as Talon, and then as Nightingale. It's one hell of a thing to live up
to. Big shoes to fill.
My thoughts derail when he leans down and unhooks the snaps that keep the
inbuilt boots on, and then slides his suit down his hips and to the floor. I'm
not at all ashamed to say that I stare at his cock as he straightens up and
steps out of the discarded clothing. The patch of black curls around it is
slightly wild looking, and his cock extends from the center, pointed more or
less straight at me. He's hard, and it's just a little intimidating to think of
that inside me. Fingers are one thing, but that's an entirely different ball
game. It makes me swallow, but it also definitely makes me draw in a shallow
breath in desire. I really want this.
Dick steps up against me, and I don't even try to swallow the moan as his skin
slides against mine. "Dick," I manage to say, and even to my own ears it sounds
like a plea. So I let the second word leave my lips too. "Please."
His hands touch either side of my waist, and I can feel the hard ridge of
plastic in his right one. It scratches slightly against my skin, but I don't
look down to find out what he's holding. Not when he's leaning down to kiss me,
and his hips are pressing flush into mine and pushing us together. I meet his
kiss as much as I can, my hands lightly touching his chest. When he doesn't
stop me, or shake me off, I touch a little harder and explore the ridges of his
muscle. I've got muscle, but it's not the kind of steel definition that his is.
It's kind of awe-inspiring.
His hands slide down over my hips, and then he leans down a bit, breaking the
kiss, and wraps his hands around my thighs. I give a shallow gasp as he lifts
me up, tugging my legs up and wrapping them around his waist. I tighten my
thighs out of instinct, wrapping my arms around him and gripping the back of
his shoulders to hold myself up. Not that I need to; he's pinning me between
his weight and the wall and I couldn't fall even if I let go completely. Still,
the grip gets me a smirk from him, and what I think is an approving flex of his
fingers against my skin.
"Just like that, Jay," he murmurs. "Don't worry about hurting me, I can take
it." He shifts forward, and I gasp again because I can feel his cock slide up
underneath me. It nudges against where he's worked me open, but doesn't slide
in. Slowly, I feel him ease his grip on my thighs and let go. My grip and his
weight keeps me up.
I can hear the rip of plastic, but then he's leaning down against the side of
my throat he hasn't worked over yet, and his teeth are pressing in. High, up
below my jaw and forcing my head back against the wall to give him room. I
swallow, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I feel the brush of his arms
along the outside of my hips. I flick my eyes closed, trying to concentrate on
something other than the hot, hard brush of him against my ass. It's a total
loss. All of this is new, but that feeling is the hottest one so far. The
feeling of his cock pressing along that stretch of skin between my balls and my
ass, the slight slide as his weight just barely shifts, the heat of him. That's
a feeling I hope I'll remember forever.
I can feel the brush of his fingers down below, but the teeth at my neck keep
me distracted, as does the feeling of his waist beneath my thighs and where my
heels are digging slightly into the small of his back. Dick gives a small sound
into the skin of my neck, twitches a bit and presses up against me. Then his
hands are wrapping around my hips, and he's pulling me to a different place, a
little higher on his waist and at a sharper angle against him. His teeth let
go, and I feel the brush of his nose against my jaw before his breath is
rushing out against my ear. Hot, slightly damp, and god does it make me squirm
a bit.
"Relax as much as you can, Jay," Dick whispers in my ear, and fuck. His voice
is dark and hot; it sounds like he's about to eat me alive and it drives a
breathy sound I refuse to call a whimper from my mouth. But I know he's being
serious, so I take in a deep breath, and force myself to relax as I let it go.
Dick groans in my ear, and that almost undoes all my work.
Then he's shifting, pulling me down again by the grip on my hips. I get almost
no warning before I feel him pressing up against me, and then pushing inside.
My back arches at the feeling, my head tossing back against the wall as I dig
my nails into his skin. It's amazing. His fingers tighten on my hips, and I try
to breathe through the feeling of him sliding inside of me — it feels like
fucking miles — but I just can't. Then suddenly his hips are pressing up
against me, and I can feel his jaw clench as he shoves a breath out through his
teeth. It takes a second for me to remember to inhale, and when I do it's a
small, gasping sort of sound.
Dick's fingers flex on my skin, and then slide back and grip my ass instead.
It's a hard press, and I expect him to drag me up but he doesn't move. He just
works his jaw, breathing evenly — maybe a little strained — and stays still.
Out of nowhere, my mind rejects that idea.
"Don't," I manage to gasp, still in the middle of trying to breathe right.
"Dick, god!"
I can feel the tension ripple through his torso, and then he's leaning back a
touch and I wrench my head down to meet him. He looks just a little concerned.
"What is it?" he demands, grip tightening for a brief moment. "Jay, tell me."
I lose myself in his eyes for a moment — that fucking perfect, impossible
bright blue — before I pull myself together. Combat training has to be
useful sometimes. "Want you," I press. My mind doesn't want to form full
sentences, but I make do. "Gentle isn't you." I repeat it again, squeezing my
eyes shut for a moment as it falls from my lips. "Gentle isn't you."
When I open my eyes again Dick is staring at me. Like the way he did when I
told him that the very first time, and said I didn't want him to take me
upstairs to a bed. Surprise, until it melts into something between heated
desire and a sharp smile that looks very dangerous.
"Alright, little wing," he breathes out, barely above a whisper. "You got me."
He presses hard into me, and then his mouth is on mine and his tongue is
shoving between my teeth. His fingers tighten hard enough to bruise, and it
feels so damn good that I moan against him. He fucks my mouth for a few
moments, forcing my head back against the wall, and then draws back. Only far
enough to sink his teeth into my lower lip and tug, and that tightens my thighs
around his waist. He lets go, and then the breath rushes out of me as he tugs
me up by the grip on my ass. It almost feels like he's going to slip out of me,
but before I can even really worry about it he's yanking me back down. The
upwards slam is enough to make me cry out, and I don't know if it's pleasure or
pain but I know I want more.
His forehead presses to mine, and I can feel the breath rushing against my
face. He apparently takes me at my word, because he doesn't give me even a
fraction of a second of rest after that first thrust. I can only cling to him
and try to weather it. I clench my jaw, try not to dig my nails too hard into
his shoulders, and give up any idea of relaxing. I know there's pain in the
mix, I know that the force he's using is going to leave me with bruises, but
something in me is clicking into place and I'm realizing that's good. I'm
realizing I like the pain.
I'm not sure if that's fucking amazing or just me being even more fucked up
than I thought I was.
Dick pulls to the side, biting at my neck for a moment — not fucking hard
enough — before raising his mouth to my ear. "Take it," he hisses, and I tilt
my head back and give half a dry sob of sound. "So tight and hot, little wing.
You feel so damn good."
A cry leaves my throat, and I arch as far as I can, still trapped between him
and the wall. The shirt's fallen now, and my back rubs against the concrete
with every downwards yank. "Please," I beg, dragging my hands across his back
and feeling the power in his shoulders and his spine. "Dick, please."
He makes a sound of satisfaction in my ear, a vicious one. "I'm going
to fuck you until you shout my name, Jason. Until you scream. Until
you're mine."
I shake at his words, at the strength in his thrusts, at the declaration
of ownership. God I'm fucked up. God I love it. "Dick," I moan, my voice a lot
more shaky than I thought it would be. "Harder. More."
I can feel the sharp stutter of his rhythm. Then he moans, shoves into me, and
finally laughs into my ear. Breathlessly, with sharp amusement and that same
dangerous edge. "Oh, Jason." His teeth nip at the lobe of my ears,
he slams into me with enough force my thighs ache. "Did I find a masochist? Do
you love this?"
His right hand tightens, and then his blunt nails rake across my ass and up my
thigh. I cry out, arching because I'm almost positive his nails have ripped
through my skin in at least a few spots. It burns, it stings, it hurts, and I
push my breath out in a keen because it winds the fire in my gut higher with
every throb of the abused skin. A masochist? God — fuck — maybe? I didn't
think— I had no idea, but the word sits right in my head. It slots neatly into
a place that used to be empty, and explains why I like how dangerous Dick is,
how strong he is, and how his hand fits around my throat or the way his nails
and teeth dig into my skin.
"You do," he whispers in my ear, and then it's like a switch flicks on
somewhere deep inside him.
His teeth are digging at my throat, almost hard enough to break skin, and the
nails on his right hand are raking across my thigh, my hip, up my side. I
didn't think it was possible but he manages to thrust harder into me, hips
slamming into the back of my thighs with every stroke. I shake, my hands
gripping his back and my spine curved in a constant arch, one way or another. I
can never quite tell if I'm arching towards him and throwing my head back, or
curving my back forward and pressing my face into his neck and his shoulder. I
just know it hurts, and I can barely breathe for how good it feels, and the air
I do manage to get comes out of me in whatever sound can get past my teeth and
my throat.
I moan his name, and pleas, and curses. I can feel tears burning at the corners
of my eyes, but I don't know any way to vent that feeling but to tremble. The
left side of me is being covered in scratches, and god it's amazing. I sink
into some kind of alternate state, almost like meditation. I know I'm crying
out, moaning, shaking, but it comes to me like it's through a thick fog. It
feels incredible. It's like I'm floating out above everything else, and all I
can feel is the pleasure, the touch of his hands, the press of his mouth, every
slide of his cock inside me. The pain is still there, but it's a rich note at
the back of the pleasure, like the satisfaction of an aching muscle after a
good workout.
He hisses things in my ear between his bites. Praising how I feel, how I sound,
how well I'm taking what he's giving. It's just a bonus on top of the feelings,
in the weird mental state that I'm in.
Maybe I should be worried that I'm only sort of conscious for all of this, and
that I don't think I could react if something bad happened, but honestly I
don't care. It feels good, and I feel good, and it's my first time and
god fucking damnit I deserve just a few minutes of feeling like this, don't I?
I can let myself be unguarded and hazed out just for right now, right?
I can't even feel what I know should be some kind of embarrassment at how fast
I careen towards my second release. I just know that I take his thrusts, and
the dig of his teeth, until I can't anymore. Then I'm arching, tears slipping
down my face as I cry something that sounds vaguely like Nightingale to my
ears, and coming between us. He doesn't even have to touch me.
He slows after that, catching my mouth in a kiss that's gentler than I expect,
even if his teeth close over my tongue for a moment.
I'm still floating high when he pulls out of me. I stay that way as he
carefully takes me to the ground, and it's only when he twists me onto my knees
and my arms have to come loose from his back that I realize I think I raked his
back hard enough to carve scratches into it. He doesn't seem to care, and once
he gets me on my knees on the mats, with my face and shoulders against the
ground because I can't summon the concentration to brace my arms, he pushes
back inside and continues fucking me. He's leaned down over me, and his teeth
tear bruises into my shoulders, the back of my neck, my spine,
every single inch of skin that he can reach with his teeth.
I might be floating high, and barely cognizant, but that doesn't mean I don't
enjoy every second of it.
Finally his thrusts turn desperate, ragged, and then he's shouting his release
into my back and grinding into the back of my thighs like he wants to sink
inside my skin. I can feel the throb of him, but there's not any sensation that
I would relate with him coming inside of me. That's about the moment I put
together that the original rip of plastic was a condom, and that Dick
was safe about all of this, no matter how rough we were. It's a sharp
realization that cuts through the fog of whatever the hell this disconnected
state is, even though it isn't enough to bring me back down to Earth.
Dick pulls out of me, and guides me to lie on the mats with a care that's
totally opposite how rough he's been so far. His touch is gentle, his mouth is
gentle, and when he lies down next to me and presses up against my back, his
arms curling around my torso and pulling me close to him, that's gentle too.
"Easy," he murmurs into my hair. "Come back to me, Jay."
Slowly, I pull myself far enough out of the fog to weakly grip at his arms.
"Dick?" I ask, my voice rough and maybe just a little hoarse from all of the
sounds he tore from my throat.
"I've got you," he promises, every inch of him hot and solid. It's comforting.
"Tell me what you need, Jay."
"You," is the only answer that comes to mind. "Just stay."
He does.
He strokes his fingers across my skin, presses soft kisses to the back of my
neck, and keeps himself pressed up against me until I've climbed my way back to
consciousness. And until I've summoned the energy and the mind to squeeze the
muscle near one of his elbows and whisper, "I'm alright."
Dick gives a soft laugh into my neck, arms tightening around me for a second.
"I wasn't expecting masochism from you, Jay," he murmurs in my ear, as his
thigh slides between mine and up against me. "Did you know?"
I manage a shake of my head, as his right hand slides down along my side. Then
his fingers are slipping around to my back, and finally low enough that he can
sink them back inside me. I think the sound I make is half of a protest, but it
only lasts for a moment. It feels like an exploration, and the press of his
mouth at my shoulder is just as careful as the lazy, slow roll of three of his
fingers.
"Dick," I moan, curling my hand against the mat, "I can't—"
"You can," he interrupts. "And even if you can't, I'm going to fuck you again,
little wing." The three fingers curl down, pushing deliberately against
whatever it is inside me that feels so good, and I flinch just a bit at the
sensation. "After I've rolled you onto your knees and taken my time exploring
all the fun, sensitive things down there." I'm sure that the sound that leaves
my throat is best called a whimper, and I shudder against him.
God, that sounds good. Right now I'm a little painfully sensitive, but once
that eases down? Or, maybe even if it doesn't. Maybe this pain can be good too.
I can almost feel myself slipping back towards that weird disconnected state of
mind.
"Are you going to tell me 'no,' Jay?" There's no threat to Dick's tone, and no
danger. It's just a question. So I grasp at the arm still wrapped around my
chest and shake my head, answering in the best way I know to not have any
miscommunication. I want this. "Good," he praises, and I can feel myself ease
out at the single word.
Because Dick is Nightingale, the first Talon, and it's praise. I'm loyal to
Bruce, but one whispered compliment in my ear and I know Dick would have me
wrapped around his fingers. He's just so incredible, so deadly, so perfect in
all the ways I'm trying to be. In a lot of ways, his approval means more to me
than Bruce's. I knew that was the case the first time he tested me. Bruce stood
by and watched him tear me to bloody shreds, and only stepped in after Dick had
decided that my defiance of what I was sure was going to be my death meant that
I was worthy of picking up his mantle.
Bruce may have been the one to take me off the streets, but if Dick hadn't
approved he would have killed me, and that would have been that. Dick has Bruce
wrapped as firmly around his fingers as he does me, it's just less obvious.
I squeeze his arm, and press myself back into his hand as I twist my head down,
stretching out the side of my neck. "Please," I whisper, clenching my thighs
down on the leg he has between them. "More."
===============================================================================
I rest my head against Dick's collarbone, unhappy with the presence of the
shirt separating my face from his skin but unable to work up the energy to pull
it out of the way.
Dick's got me wrapped up in one of the blankets we keep down here for combating
shock or blood loss, cradled against his chest with his mouth pressing
occasional soft kisses to the top of my head. We're in the chair in front of
the computer, and I think I should be feeling something resembling fear — or at
least wariness — because eventually Bruce will be back, but I don't have the
energy for that either. There isn't much of me that doesn't sting or ache, but
I'm floating so high on the leftover chemical rush that I honestly don't care.
It'll hurt tomorrow, and I'll deal with it then.
My calves are outside of the blanket, but I swear that's only the case so that
there's room for Dick's arm. He's got it pushed up inside the blankets, between
my legs, his fingers resting deep inside me and keeping me open. They're slick
with lube, and every once in awhile he'll curl them or slide them in and out of
me for a few minutes. Mostly, honestly, I think he just likes the feeling of
having them in there. Being empty right now feels uncomfortable, so I don't
care. It's a nice thrill in the back of my head, that even now that we're done
with the actual sex Dick is keeping me spread open for him.
I've given up wondering how fucked my head is.
I start a little bit at the sound of an engine echoing through the Roost, and
Dick gives a quiet, reassuring sound into my hair. His fingers pull out of me,
and I tremble and make a sound too weak to be really protesting. He presses my
legs back together, and gathers me into his arms a little more securely.
"Easy, little wing," he murmurs, after the engine noise has cut out. "Bruce is
home; we can be a little more appropriate than me still being inside you."
I manage to tilt my head enough to get a view of the cave, which is why when
Bruce jumps out of the landed jet I see it right away. He pauses for a moment,
then pulls his helmet off as he heads for us. Dick doesn't say anything, but he
gets to his feet to meet our mentor, holding me up against him in a bridal
carry. I'm too tired to be embarrassed or angry about that.
"Should I be concerned?" is the first thing he says, dry and with an edge of
tired resignation to his tone. I think Dick smiles, because Bruce's eyes narrow
just a little bit as he glances down at me. He can probably see the bruises and
scratches on my calves; Dick didn't leave much skin clear. "Dick, what have you
done?"
"It's alright, Bruce," Dick says easily, over my head. "Before I took him
upstairs, I just wanted to tell you that Jason is mine now." I swallow, as one
of Bruce's eyebrows climbs towards his hair. "We had some fun, I like him, and
I'm keeping him." Now he looks a little incredulous, and Dick laughs and leans
down into me. He catches my mouth in a kiss, and even with Bruce right there I
can't help trying to kiss back. I don't manage much. When Dick pulls back,
after a few seconds, I can see him look up at Bruce with a wicked grin. "You
might want to delete the last few hours of surveillance for the Roost."
Then he's turning, carrying me away before our mentor can figure out how to
respond. If he was even going to. I shift in Dick's arms, burying my face in
against his shoulder.
"You hear that, Jason?" Dick murmurs, his arms tightening around me.
"You're mine."
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