Good Bits 8.1: Answered Questions
by Te
December 2, 2011

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine.

Spoilers/Timeline: AU-ized spoilers for older storylines. Takes place in a universe where Steph and Tim are both Robin.

Summary: For always.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content which mostly doesn't dovetail with the content some readers may find to be disturbing.

Author's Note: Did I mention loving vampire fic? Because I love it. Will not make much in the way of sense without "Little Mister Frowny Pants." Go read it. I'll wait.

Acknowledgments: Much love to Mildred, Pixie, Melissa, Britt, and my Jack for audiencing and encouragement.

Length: 9,000 words.

*

There's a question Dick wants to ask.

There's -- well, no. At any given time, there are about three *dozen* questions he wants to ask Bruce, and that doesn't even *remotely* include the inevitable follow-ups.

When he was in training -- and for *most* of the six years he spent as Robin -- he just went ahead and asked. The answers to those early questions have saved his life more than once -- a lot more -- and some of them...

("Bruce..."

"Yes, Dick?"

"Am I your friend?")

Bruce had swallowed and looked at him with everything in his eyes, just *everything* --

("Yes, Dick."

"For always?"

"Yes.")

Some of the answers... well, Roy would say they'd saved Dick's *soul*, and Dick has to admit that he has a point.

You couldn't *live* with Bruce and not know that he had huge, throat-choking *issues* with talking about his feelings, and thinking about his feelings, and *feeling* about his feelings. Even *Dick* had figured that out eventually -- and figured out most of *why* while he was at it. So when Bruce *did* talk about his feelings --

When he *showed* Dick his feelings --

Every *time* --

Dick shivers on the balustrade of the old Roberts-Waxman scissors factory and adjusts his perch a little.

Just enough to stretch his quads, there and there --

And he can feel Bruce looking at him. He can --

Well, he's right *there*, and also it's a *warm* night, and also --

Also it's impossible to be *around* Bruce without feeling him now. All of that *presence* is right there, and he can't seem to turn the volume down on it anymore. Or --

Dick guesses it *could* be the vampire *thing* -- that would make a kind of sense --

Dick shifts again --

"Are you all right."

Damn. "I'm fine, boss. Just -- uh... antsy?" And Dick tries a rueful smile --

But it makes Bruce frown just like he can -- oh.

He can't *hear* the thoughts in Dick's head, but he can absolutely *smell* Dick's tension and worry and all of those -- other things. Dick sighs and offers a more real smile. "I'm kind of --"

"You need not work with me --"

"That's *not* the problem --"

"Nightwing."

"It *isn't*, boss, I *swear*, okay? And you can smell that --"

"It bothers you."

Dick takes a deep breath and reaches across the small distance between them, leaving his hand there until Bruce touches it -- not holds it -- with his own. "I know I'm the first to work with you since..." He shakes his head. "You nearly died."

"I *did* die."

"Yes, well, not *permanently*. Which is a *good* thing, and you really should trust Prime about that if you can't trust *me* --"

"I've always -- I trust you implicitly."

Dick blinks and tries to wrap his mind around that little most-of-the-way-to-a-declaration --

"I'm sorry."

And now there's an *apology* --

"If -- I can work alone for the rest of the night --"

And so the only thing to do --

The only *possible* response --

Well, of course Bruce is fast enough to stop him, but Dick wasn't expecting to be caught by those huge, leathery *wings*.

He also wasn't expecting to be dangled a couple of feet above the *roof* --

"Boss."

"I... you were going to... hug me?"

Dick nods just as slowly and obnoxiously as he can.

Bruce hums and kind of *squeezes* Dick with his wings before setting him down on the roof. He folds his wings back behind himself --

"*God*, it's weird seeing you wearing something as thin as *Prime's* uniform."

Bruce looks down at himself, strokes over the *fabric* of his *shirt* --

The shirt that's only reinforced around the wing slits --

"I'm... still working on designs --"

"That can accommodate your wings, I know, I know -- do I get to hug you, yet?"

"Nightwing --"

"Boss," Dick says, and flips up the lenses of his mask so Bruce can *see* the look -- and it's a *good* look -- he's giving him --

"I've missed you," Bruce says, and frowns hard before dropping back into a crouch. He extends his wings again, or --

"Uh. Are *you* okay? Also, how much are you controlling your wings?"

"They -- have something of a mind of their own -- I'm fine."

Dick -- snorts. He can't actually help himself. He can, however, move close enough to Bruce that he can *smell* that faint *otherness* that comes off him now. It can easily be masked with cologne, and Bruce still smells *mostly* like himself --

But he smells like himself-at-a-distance, and there is that... otherness. Something like the scent of a cold wind blowing through the financial district, something full of stone and --

He doesn't know. It's Bruce, though, and so he *will* know. He'll *make* himself familiar with it, starting with this arm *slowly* cupping Bruce's waist --

"Nightwing."

And this other arm -- well, he can rest a hand on the bat on Bruce's chest, and not think about the slow, slow, *slow* heartbeat --

Until Bruce curls his right wing *around* Dick and kind of... gathers him. Dick grins. "Perfect."

"Hm."

"No, trust me, it's perfect," Dick says, and kisses Bruce's cheek --

"*Hnh* --"

And -- blinks. He's definitely blinking. It's not that he *knows* that sound --

Well, no, he *does* know that sound, but only because Clark has *made* that sound more than once while they were both *very* naked and also Clark was pretending to be...

Dick licks his lips. "Ah... boss?"

Bruce is scowling. That much would be clear even if he had a cowl like the one *Cass* wears. As it is, it's enough to make parts of Dick wince while other parts --

Well, the other parts are more than a little --

Dick doesn't lick his lips again... but he wants to. He really -- wait. "You... can smell me. Right?"

And for a moment -- a *long* moment -- Dick thinks Bruce isn't going to answer him or even change *expression* --

But he kind of *snaps* his wings back behind himself and puts his face in his *hands* --

And that's a kind of answer.

Dick licks his lips again and tugs *gently* on Bruce's wrist -- no joy. Okay. He *can* get a little closer --

Bruce's wings shudder. Just --

The *rest* of Bruce's body is as still as a *statue* -- and as *hard* --

And -- "I really, *really* want to warm you up, even though I know --"

*That* shudder takes Bruce's whole body, and --

And --

"Okay. Ah. Bear with me for a moment?"

Bruce doesn't say anything.

Dick -- really needs to stop licking his lips. He squeezes Bruce's wrist instead and just -- "Arsenal... I talk about you a lot with Arsenal."

Bruce breathes. And it's *really* noticeable, because it's the first time he's done it in kind of a while --

And he shudders again --

And *breathes* again --

And now he's *crushing* his hands against his face --

Dick frowns. "I... I only do it when I'm in his spaces. The ones *only* O has bugged, you know?"

Bruce doesn't move --

Doesn't *breathe* again --

And Dick realizes that he's holding his *own* breath -- he stops that, and evens himself out, and deals -- "It's not that I want to keep anything from you. It's just too embarrassing to think about you listening to me repeat myself ad *infinitum*. But Arsenal... he's always been sure that I was wrong about you."

Nothing. Nothing -- right.

"He's always been sure that the *little* bit of attraction-to-me I could always see in you was just the tip of the iceberg. He thinks --" Dick laughs a little helplessly. "He thinks wanting to fuck me is a sign of *sanity*, boss. I mean, he's *said* that --"

Bruce drops his hands to the balustrade, but he doesn't breathe or *look* at Dick --

And *neither* of them are paying anything *like* enough attention to their surveillance targets, but this --

This is more important.

Dick strokes Bruce's chest through his shirt. "I know you're listening to me. That's -- do you remember making *that* declaration? About how you *always* listen to me no matter *what* I'm babbling about?"

Bruce is *frowning*, but it doesn't look like a scowl. It doesn't look like *anger*, at all --

"Oh, boss, it's okay. It's all -- I'm older now. I mean, I'm technically a grown-up now and everything," Dick says, and tries a grin --

No dice.

"I've always loved you --"

"Nightwing," Bruce says, and it *is* Bruce, because that voice is so soft, so low and *hurt* --

"I'm *here*, boss, I just -- you have to know I'd make love with you *anywhere*. At any *time* --"

"Don't -- please."

Dick does his own frowning --

Bruce --

"You. You look like you're about to *cry*, Bruce, and I *know* I'm breaking protocol, but it's all right, it's -- it's *better* than all right, I *promise* --"

"I don't. I don't need to feed."

Dick blinks. "Okay? That wasn't really what I was talking about --"

"I. It's become... a kind of foreplay. With -- Prime."

Dick opens his mouth --

Thinks about that --

And Bruce's teeth sinking into his throat --

Or maybe his *thigh* --

What would that even *feel* like? He's been bitten by *animals* before, but this --

It would *have* to be different from all of the fantasies he's had of Bruce's big, hard -- mouth.

Mm.

But thinking about that is keeping him *away* from thinking about the fact that Bruce had just used the word 'foreplay,' and that's not good, at all. It -- "Tell me about it?"

"Dick..."

Dick takes a *deep* breath. He can't actually *get* any closer, but he tries, anyway --

"Please."

"Clark likes it when you bite him?"

"Everyone --" Bruce growls and shakes his head.

Dick blinks again -- "You mean... you've been getting the people you feed on *off*?"

"Not --" Bruce frowns in *distaste* -- but then laughs ruefully. "They've all been aroused when I've... finished. I could smell it."

"I... hunh. Even -- is there some sort of -- I mean." Dick shivers and laughs, too. "I guess it's the good kind of pain?"

"Apparently -- no. No, don't."

"Don't *what*?"

"Don't talk yourself *into* --" Bruce growls and shifts away... a few feet.

He doesn't leave the roof.

He doesn't *leave*.

Dick licks his teeth and just --

("Go for it, 'mano. Wait for a day when you're hard *inside* --"

"I'm *never* hard inside --"

"You *know* what I mean. Wait for *that* day, ride yourself right into that fucking hole in the ground --"

"Ollie had one, too!"

"And it was stupid and cold and *dank*. But you ride right the fuck in there and you *go* for it. Because you never *really* have, and you're never gonna know what *I* know in my *bones* until you do.")

So.

It's possible -- *just* possible -- that Dick is *stalking* those few feet closer --

And gripping Bruce's chin --

No *stubble* --

And he's not letting Dick turn his head. All right. Plan B.

Dick rolls down onto his knees and presses his mouth to the cowl just over Bruce's ear -- "Should I whisper it, Bruce? Tell you *exactly* what I want?"

Nothing.

"I *want* you to hurt me -- just a little. The bite, or other things. Stickier things...?" Dick laughs. "But I'm betting the bite could be pretty sticky, too. What's *Clark's* blood like, hmm? You could --"

"It's like swallowing -- fire."

And the thing is -- Dick wasn't actually expecting an answer. But he can go with it. "It burns all the way down?"

"Yes."

"It..." Dick *bites* his lip. "It makes you warm."

"Yes."

"It makes you hard."

Bruce takes a *shaky* breath -- "I -- implied --"

Dick kisses Bruce's cheek again, and he lets it linger this time, lets himself *stay* there --

Right *here* --

And Bruce's cheek is as smooth as it would be if he'd shaved five *minutes* ago as opposed to three hours ago. It's smooth, and just a little warmer than the breeze makes the air -- cool. It's hard --

And it's *there* for Dick to kiss, because Bruce hadn't moved away *or* held Dick away -- "Can you stop me, Bruce?" And Dick lets proximity turn Bruce's name into another kiss --

"Yes."

Well, that was -- the wrong question. "*Will* you stop me?"

And Bruce frowns again, and it's the *sad* frown --

And Dick gets it. "All of these powers... and you can't really control all of them, yet."

"I... don't use the ones --" Bruce growls and shakes his head once. "No. I can't control them. I can't -- I can't alter or *dim* my perceptions of your scent. Your many scents."

"And it's driving you crazy."

Bruce swallows again. "I want you near."

"I'm here --"

"Closer. I -- I'm sorry."

"For... wanting me?"

"For not being able to control myself --"

"I don't *want* you t-- *fuck* --"

And for a *long* moment that's the only word in his mind, the only word that makes *sense*, because he's in Bruce's arms --

In Bruce's *wings* --

And Bruce is *holding* the flesh of Dick's throat between his teeth. He --

"I'm not bleeding."

Bruce shudders *hard*, and Dick can feel him trying not to do this, trying to --

"It's not strength, Bruce. It's -- I promise -- *nnh* -- I'm still not bleeding," Dick says, and laughs breathlessly -

And *grunts* for the feel of Bruce's canines getting longer --

Longer -- "Oh -- oh, God, Bruce -- *NNH* --"

And the world is a *dark* place, and he knew that, Bruce always tried to --

The world is a *warm* place, and he knew that, too, always knew, always --

Oh, please --

*Please*, because Bruce's teeth --

Bruce is *inside* him, and he's so hard, so --

Dick is losing, losing everything, and he's never felt this weak, this hungry, this --

*Deeper* and there's a rumble, a *tremor* --

Earthquake, it's another --

But then it stops and Bruce *sucks* and Dick realizes that Bruce was *growling*, that --

Oh, God --

It's so *dark*, and all Dick wants to do is sink down, give up, give in, give *more*, and --

He thinks he must be spreading his legs --

He thinks he *needs* to be spread, laid out on the floor --

The roof --

Anywhere, Bruce, *anywhere* --

So --

And the earthquake happens again --

Dick is shaking so *much* --

Bruce is *licking* him, once and -- again --

Again --

Bruce groans and licks his way to Dick's *mouth* -- and stops. And -- he stays there, and he's not breathing, and his lips are just *slightly* parted, and he's right there and he'd just fed on Dick.

Just --

Dick tries to -- something.

Bruce is holding Dick *cradled* to his chest, and Dick's right arm is crushed between them, but the left one is free. He can. He can reach --

*Touch* Bruce's mouth --

He's still not *breathing*, and --

And Dick *becomes* aware of the sprawl of his legs when he tries to spread them and realizes that he's *already* spread wide enough that his left leg is dangling over the side of the roof.

Dick laughs helplessly and *fixes* that --

And *then* realizes that *Bruce's* other hand is cupping Dick through his jock. "Oh. I..."

Bruce swallows and *shudders* --

"Breathe."

Bruce shakes his head and firms his mouth into a hard *line* --

His lips are so *red* -- "Bruce, breathe so you can talk to me --"

Bruce turns away --

"*No* --"

"I don't. I don't want you to smell my breath."

"Oh -- Bruce. That *is* fair, and I can understand, and I'd probably be just as -- kiss me? Please?"

"Dick --"

"It's been almost eleven *years* since I kissed you, and I still remember how stiff you were, how -- *mmph* --"

Aaand... contact, and it absolutely counts, because even though Dick's pretty sure he couldn't get Bruce's mouth open with lubricant and a pry-bar, Bruce is still *nuzzling* him, humming and moaning with his mouth closed --

Dick *bites* Bruce's mouth, upper lip and then lower --

Licks Bruce's mouth and does his own nuzzling --

*His* stubble is *good* and disreputable --

Bruce *grunts* -- and he's *dragging* his face against Dick's stubble and panting through his nose.

"Oh -- Bruce, that's good, so good, but give me your *tongue* -- *fuck* --"

Bruce is *gripping* Dick through his jock, rubbing and stroking and gripping harder --

"I can only feel that --"

"Please, Dick --"

And Bruce's mouth is closed again by the time Dick can get *his* mouth there, but he thinks he's making his point with these *little* bites, and -- dilemma. He *wants* to grip Bruce by the hair and yank him into every kiss-position he can *think* of, but he *also* wants to get his jock off --

No, no contest. Dick knocks Bruce's hand aside, shoves his hand down his tights, and yanks open the tear-away jock Roy *never* misses a chance to look at him *funny* for --

And Bruce pants, right there, right against Dick's mouth --

And that's definitely the scent of Dick's blood --

Enough of it that it feels like there's a *cloud* of it around their heads -- but.

"It's just blood, Bruce --"

"Yours."

Dick grins and tugs until Bruce is cupping him again, *squeezing* him --

He can't really grin for *that* --

But he thinks that the moan is probably getting his point across, too. And -- "How much did you take?"

"I'm not --"

"Sure...?"

Another pant --

"I don't feel weak anymore, boss --"

"I... drank. For half the time I usually spend drinking from Clark."

"And -- he told me he gives you about a pint at a time...?"

Bruce squeezes him again --

Dick moans and *arches* --

"Dick..."

"I can go with half a pint --"

"I want. I want more." 

Dick takes -- well, the breath is kind of shaky, but so is *he*. Bruce's control --

No one but *Clark* had better control than Bruce on a day-to-day basis, but it's night now --

It'll always *be* night for Bruce now --

And he'd already *admitted* to not having the kind of control he'd been used to. He's not --

"You don't trust yourself, boss...?"

And Bruce... pulls Dick a little closer. *Holds* him closer, and it's gentle and possessive and *really* hot --

Just what Dick's *wanted* --

*Some* of what Dick's wanted --

And it's also an answer. Just -- Dick pulls away *just* enough that he can move, straddle Bruce's lap and cup his face --

And get lost in the shadows when those wings encircle them both again. "I -- can't see you very well, boss."

"I'm sorry. I -- a moment, please."

"Sure -- oh." And it's even darker when Bruce's wings curl *tighter* around them, dark and close and just a little hotter than it seems like it should be with only one *live* mammal in the clinch.

It just makes Dick feel like he *can* warm Bruce up again, like that's *possible* --

Something to *push* for -- one of many things to push for. Dick strokes Bruce's mouth with his thumb, and it's dry and not even a little sticky. He pushes in enough to stroke Bruce's teeth, his gums --

And he can feel Bruce's fangs extending *slowly* when he presses. It's --

Dick laughs. "You... are extremely sexy, boss."

"Dick --"

"I'm not -- I think this is where I admit that I'm not thinking straight -- in case it wasn't *clear* --"

"I won't. I won't bite. Again."

"But you *want* to."

"Very much. It. The taste of you..."

Dick... evens out his breathing a little --

"Yes. Yes, you should --"

"Would you like to see me out of control, boss?"

Bruce groans and *sucks* Dick's fingers, and it's cool and a little dry for a mouth, but mostly it's really, really promising.

"That could do it. That..." Dick laughs, and it's not even close to his Nightwing laugh, and that means it doesn't belong on the street --

Except for how this -- all of it --

"You owe me this, boss. You owe *both* of us --"

Bruce moans around Dick's fingers and starts --

Starts going *down* on them --

"Oh... Bruce." Dick licks his lips again and grinds against Bruce a little. He still wears a *jock*, though, and that --

Well, Clark had *said* that there's still sensitivity --

And it's been a long time since he's blushed in the middle of sex, but he's damned well doing it now --

And Bruce shudders and grips Dick's hip with one hand and reaches up to touch Dick's face with the other. He --

"You can see that."

Bruce nods and keeps sucking, keeps working his *head* --

"You -- did it get... warmer in here or something?"

Another nod, and that --

Dick shivers and -- this is less a grind than a *hump*. This -- "Please, Bruce --"

*Bite* -- but not with the fangs, and not *hard*. Not *too* hard, anyway --

"Was that a yes or a no? I can *maybe* keep myself from begging a *lot*, but --"

Bruce *sucks* hard and pulls off. "Dick. I. I want to please you."

Dick opens his mouth and just pants a little for a moment -- "I -- it won't take long," he says, laughing again and *shoving* against Bruce a little -- no, he can take what Dick can give and *then* some. Dick shoves more, harder, grinds and humps just hard enough to make himself grunt for the *impact* of Bruce's jock --

"Is it. Is this what you want --"

"I want your *dick*, boss," and Dick grins again and searches the darkness a little until he's *mostly* sure he's meeting Bruce's gaze. "I also want you to tell me how to get *you* off --"

"Kiss -- I would like a kiss."

Dick grins wider and pushes the cowl back and off -- this wing-shadowed darkness has to be good for *something* -- and feels Bruce's face up a little, scratching his cheeks and petting his forehead and dragging his lips out of true --

"Dick --"

And kissing him, just kissing him --

No, kissing him and feeling him up everywhere *else* he can reach, taking --

Dick moans happily and licks everywhere he can taste his own blood. It makes him feel a little dirty -- dirtier, even, than how he feels about kissing the man he'd let *adopt* him --

And he'll never, ever tell Bruce how many dreams he has these days where his *biological* father shows up to *look* at him --

Look at him with questions he'll never be able to *answer* --

But there are other questions, and other answers, like the way it feels to hold Bruce's face *just* like this --

And to grip Bruce with his knees and thighs --

And to fuck Bruce's *mouth* a little, just a little --

And maybe more than that --

Maybe faster and wetter and more --

God, it's his *blood*, and Bruce wants more, and maybe Dick is licking especially hard at Bruce's normal-feeling-for-now canines, licking and *trying* --

Bruce is *shuddering* --

Bruce's wings are so *tight* around him, and that means don't stop, never ever ever --

Dick groans and bites Bruce's lip, the chin like a block of *marble* --

"*Dick*."

"Am I tempting you?"

"You -- please. Please allow me --"

"*Anything* --"

"Please allow me to maintain the *illusion* that I'm capable of resisting --"

"*Don't* resist --"

"*Dick*."

"*Bruce*."

"I --" Bruce laughs and folds his wings back *just* enough that Dick can see his face. He's smiling, and his eyes are dark and *shining*, and he's pale, too pale to look so healthy, so happy --

Dick squeezes *hard* with his thighs --

And Bruce's eyes almost seem to shine more, to *glitter* -- "Dick."

"Uh. Yes?"

Bruce hums. "I only wish to resist the urge to bite you again."

Dick opens his mouth to tell Bruce it's *okay* --

He thinks he wants to feel that weak at least once a *day* --

That *quality* of --

Of --

Bruce *growls* at him --

"Oh -- Jesus, Bruce. Uh. Okay? No biting. Definitely -- well, except with your less exciting teeth --"

"You like that."

"I like *you*, boss. Let's get nakeder," Dick says, and smiles invitingly, and nods, and smiles more --

And Bruce hums --

And the world moves just the way it does when Dick gets Clark *just* that excitable --

And Dick is on his back on and also *against* one of the actual gargoyles -- happily one of the *less* ornate ones --

And the flap of Bruce's wings sends Gotham air and just a little roof-grit at him, but he can deal with that so long as it means he gets to watch Bruce taking off his *belt* --

And pushing down his shorts and tights -- Dick can't wait --

"Come *here*."

Bruce looks at him, and it feels exactly like being sized up by a larger, scarier, and much-much-*much*-more-dangerous-than-he-is predator. Bruce.

Dick grins and gestures the come-on with both hands --

Except that his right hand is abruptly wrapped around two exceedingly happy dicks -- one of them, he's almost sure, is his own -- and much of his left hand is in Bruce's *mouth* --

And Bruce is staring into him again.

Just --

No, *not* 'just,' because Bruce is *thrusting* into Dick's fist --

"God, you're big. I --"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, I *did* already know that, but I didn't know it with my *hand*. I think it's fair to say that my hand is surprised."

The eyebrow gets higher --

"It's also impressed. Pleased, you might say. Maybe a little --" Dick squeezes *hard* --

Bruce *grunts* around Dick's fingers --

"-- a little awed. A little... mm. Gobsmacked, maybe? You *could* smack me with this --"

Bruce *bites* his fingers --

"Is that a yes? A maybe? I don't play that game *often*, but it would be a -- mm, yes, do *that* --"

And Bruce sucks while still biting -- "Mm --"

"And I'll do *this*," Dick says, and works his hips a little, thrusts against Bruce from the left --

The right --

Right down the *middle* --

Or maybe up -- and up --

And Bruce is *growling* around Dick's fingers --

And Dick is squeezing and stroking and just -- "I can see it, you know. I -- " Dick bites his lip and turns his thumb just enough that he can scrape *both* of them with his nail just a little --

Bruce *moans* --

And he does, too. But -- "I can see -- this would've looked *obscene* when I was, say, thirteen. Or fourteen. Or -- well, fifteen was a *good* year for *growth* --"

"I *remember*," Bruce says, and he's holding Dick's wrist and *glaring* --

It makes Dick's *heart* pound, but Jesus, fuck -- "Tell me what you *like* --"

"*You*."

"Be --"

"Let me -- let me be your fantasy."

Oh... yes. Dick squeezes them *viciously* hard --

Bruce *growls* again --

And -- it doesn't take *much* thought. "If you give me a fantasy... you can feel less guilty?"

And the glare gets *baleful* for a moment, but it also gets *bleak*.

Dick nods and smiles ruefully. "I won't try to tell you not to feel guilty. I won't -- I *do* know you pretty well at this point --"

"You. Yes."

"I'll let you work me over in the interests of my id in *just* a sec..."

"Dick. Please --"

"Tell *me* a fantasy. Tell me -- tell me how I can make you crazy."

Bruce just *stares* at him for a long moment --

He looks *incredulous* --

He looks --

"Bruce. Remember that I *do not live in your head* --"

"You live. You live in my heart."

Dick catches his breath and just --

Okay, certain things need to happen before he can do -- or say -- anything else. One, medical-grade slick comes out of his boot -- nice and warm from being pressed to his calf -- and gets handed to the man mere minutes away from making Dick make incredibly unsubtle noises. Two, position must be shifted until he's on his hands and knees -- and gripping the gargoyle's stone horns to brace himself.

Three, Dick needs to breathe --

And breathe --

And moan for the feel of Bruce cupping his hips, squeezing so *carefully* --

"Bruce..."

"From the very first moment I saw you. I."

"Where did you want me?"

"Anywhere. Every -- I dreamed of you on my gymnastics equipment --"

"Oh -- God. The pommel horse?"

"The *rings*. You were -- your strength was obvious. Blinding even from a distance --"

"Did you touch me in the fantasy?"

"Your -- your short, powerful legs. I..."

And that small sound means the lube is open, means -- "Don't wait, Bruce --"

"I won't. I --"

"Tell me where else you -- *how* else you touched -- *ohn* --"

"I've watched... so much. Is this --"

"Two -- two fingers is -- good," Dick says, and laughs for his own shudder, for the fact that he's already rocking for it, grinding --

"Dick --"

"Tell me *more* --"

"I tasted you. I --"

"While I was on the *rings*?"

*Bruce* laughs. "I'm not. I'm not always practical --"

"No, you -- oh. Oh, *fuck*, are you -- do you always --"

"I've wanted to work your prostate in this way for a very long time. I -- if it doesn't fit your fantasy --"

"Just don't --" Dick *blushes* again -- "Don't make me come."

"All right," Bruce says, and it's as solemn as a promise. "Would you like --"

"More. C'mon, I -- do I moan for you?"

"You. You call my name when I lick the backs of your knees --"

"Nuh -- *which* name --"

Bruce takes a *shuddering* breath. "The fantasy changes. Much like your scent in this moment. You. You're becoming even more aroused --"

"Are you *surprised*?"

"I thought. I thought that I could become accustomed --" Bruce groans and begins to thrust faster, to *rub* at Dick's prostate --

"Oh. You're losing control --"

"Yes. Yes, I -- I will not hurt --"

"Just a little, Bruce. Just enough to make me *loud*."

"Dick --"

"You've *watched* me fucking --"

"Yes --"

"*Getting* fucked --"

"*Yes*, and I -- I've wanted --"

"*Do* it --"

And Bruce's growl has that *other* quality to it, that thing that makes it seem like there are echoes somewhere Dick can't hear but can absolutely *feel* --

"And *tell* me more --"

"I lower the rings."

"Oh -- yeah --"

"I hold you *still*," Bruce says, and *grips* Dick's hip with his free hand --

"*Fuck* --"

"You can't -- all of your movement. All of your skill. All of your *power* --"

"In -- in *your* hands --"

"*Mine*," Bruce says, and it's another growl, so low and fucking --

Dick is *shaking*, and he wants to buck for Bruce's thrusts, wants --

"I take you in my *mouth*."

"*Please* --"

"I *pleasure* you, again and again. So -- you're so *young* --"

"Oh, *God*, Bruce --"

"Your taste in my *mouth*," and there's a little *lisp* --

"Your fangs --"

"*Extended*. But I will not bite. Not -- not even if you *beg*."

"I *want* to --"

"It is --" Bruce growls again. Pants. Growls *again* -- "It is a beautifully fitting *obscenity* that you nourish me so well, that you *fill* me," he says, and the lisp is gone just that *quickly* --

Dick groans and lets his head hang, lets --

No, he *can't* stop trying to buck, trying to *grind* --

Bruce is *opening* him --

Bruce *wants* --

"Beautiful. So -- the *strain* of your body --"

"Can't -- I need to *move* --"

"Your *fantasy* --"

"Yes, fuck, don't let go, don't -- no matter *what* I say --"

"Yes. Yes, I understand," Bruce says, and starts thrusting faster, spreading his fingers and just --

Opening --

Dick whimpers and tries to *stop* himself from straining -- no, Bruce wants that, wants to see --

Robin never *surrenders* --

But he wasn't Robin in Bruce's fantasy. He was the Boy *Wonder*, and he was in Bruce's *hands*, small and young and needy --

God, fuck, he can *do* needy -- *be* needy --

He can *fight* Bruce's hold on him even though it doesn't get him anywhere --

It makes Bruce sound like he's forgotten *how* to breathe effectively, like it's something that's happening because he keeps catching hints of Dick's scent and he needs more --

Dick is sweating like *crazy* --

And he wants to sweat more, wants to be dirty for Bruce, all-over-dirty like something that can *only* be used for sex --

Roy could *help* --

And God, what would Roy say about *this*? What would *he* do if *Ollie* got turned into a vampire without *much* in the way of self-control?

He can *feel* Roy staring at him for that question --

He can feel Roy flipping him *off*, but he'd be laughing, too, laughing at him *and* with him --

And Bruce flaps his wings --

Growls and flaps them again and again, and it cools the sweat on Dick's back --

He doesn't *want* that -- "Please!"

"What -- *tell* me, Dick --"

"Let me -- let me *sweat* --"

"Your scents -- I can't --"

"Do you *like* --"

"I am -- I *ache* --"

Dick *grunts* --

"I want to *bury* myself in you --"

"Oh -- Bruce --"

"I want to rub your body against my own --"

"Fuck --"

"I want to *wear* you, I want every breath to -- to *give* you to me --"

"Yes -- Jesus -- *in* me --"

"*Dick* --"

"Before you lose any more *control*!"

"I --"

And Dick cries *out*, because Bruce is grip is harder, *more* impossible --

"Do you truly *want* --"

"Make me come, make me -- give me your *dick*, Bruce --*oh* --" And it's *Clark's* trick to pull out so fast that Dick can't feel it happening, so maybe it's okay that he *seizes* a little when the blunt push against his hole isn't *hot* --

"Dick --"

"I -- I -- God, Bruce --"

"Dick, you -- you're *tense* --"

"Not for --" And Dick shakes his head and breathes himself down, grateful with everything he *is* that his little brother is the kind of *weirdo* who would teach himself how to meditate *efficiently* -- and then teach Dick to do the same. Just --

There are ways to *have* this, and he's going to learn every last one of them, *take* every last one of them until Bruce can't *blink* without seeing Dick on his knees, on his back, on his belly --

God, please, on his knees again and *again* --

And Bruce's hand is *shaking* on his hip --

And Bruce is whispering his name over and over --

And Bruce is *holding* himself against Dick's hole instead of leaving, pulling back --

He's right *there* --

And that's what Dick's going to think about, that's what he's going to *give* himself in every possible way until he's smiling --

And breathing --

And *flexing* for the *desperate* sound of Bruce's growl --

He's right *there* --

"*Now*, Bruce!" And Dick takes a deep breath to prepare to be more *convincing* --

But then he shouts it right out, because --

God, fuck, *big*, and maybe it shouldn't feel bigger just because it's only a little warmer than the air, but Dick is used to *heat*, hot and *hotter*, and this --

Oh, *God* --

"*Dick*. You must -- you must *speak* --"

Dick nods and he means to do it, he really *does*, but nothing comes out but noise, because Bruce isn't stopping, Bruce --

Fuck, fuck, all the way *in*, and it's Bruce, it's *Bruce* --

Bruce's hair --

Bruce's *sac* slapping his own, and even that feels hard and a little too cool, a little --

Dick clenches and *shouts* --

And those are *slick* fingers on his other hip --

He'd told Bruce to hold him *still*, and since that's practically the last thing he'd managed *to* say --

"*Bruce*." Oh, good, that was a word, that's a good *sign*, a sign of better things --

"My *love*."

-- except that he's clenching and shouting again, crying *out*, and he should be a lot quieter than this --

Are their surveillance targets even still *there*?

And laughing has to be an improvement, maybe -- maybe something *closer* to the words Bruce needs --

Bruce *shudders* --

He's stroking Dick's face with the tips of his *wings*, and that --

Is that creepy? How would Dick *know* at this point? And that sounded like Roy in his head again, but Dick can still laugh --

Moan and laugh more --

Turn just enough to *suck* the tip of Bruce's wing --

Bruce *thrusts* --

Dick *screams* --

"I -- *please*, Dick --"

"Do it, fucking -- oh, God, I need this so *bad* --"

And this time Bruce's groan sounds like something that can crack the *earth*. It's not that it's loud -- Dick isn't sure Bruce *can* get louder than him right now -- it's just that it's heavy, *deep*, *thrumming* --

And it makes Dick's dick twitch at least as much as --

Or maybe not as much --

Bruce's rhythm is so --

Dick has to say *something* -- "*Please*!"

"*Anything*, Dick --"

"Please -- don't stop, don't -- I can't *move*!"

And Bruce's hands *spasm* on Dick's hips --

"*Don't* --"

And then they're just as tight --

Just as perfect --

Dick moans and grips the horns of the gargoyle because he can --

And then he grips them for dear *life*, because Bruce's rhythm changes to something close to Clark's when Dick has been begging for an *hour*. It's hard and it's *fast*, faster than Dick can really *take* without crying out --

Begging *more* --

"*Dick*," Bruce says, and it's *gritted* out, half-*swallowed* as he shoves in and *in* -- "*Dick*."

"Yes -- oh -- *ohn* --" And that was close to a *howl*, that --

Dick can't keep himself from throwing his head back --

Bruce's wings are all over his *face*, leathery and sleek and *alive*, Bruce is *alive*, and he always will be --

He'll never *go* --

And Dick knows for a *fact* that *most* people don't know how to deal when their lover starts sobbing and beaming at the same damned time, but Bruce knows him --

Bruce has known him for longer than anyone *else* in the *world* --

And Bruce has been paying *attention*, because Dick doesn't have to throw his head back more than twice before Bruce is growling --

Releasing *one* hip --

And *gripping* Dick by the hair, *holding* Dick's head up and back --

So hard so good to *scream* --

Bruce is so *hard* in him --

And Dick doesn't know what to do with this happiness other than feel it, hold it, scream it out and give it back --

*Lick* Bruce's wings and give it *back* until the only sounds that mean anything are Bruce's grunts and *hungry* moans --

The rough panting -- no, Bruce is *gulping* air, and Dick knows that means he's being tasted, being consumed in a *different* way --

He's good --

He --

"You *want* me!"

"*Love*. Love -- always -- the first *moment* --" And the rest of that is another growl as Bruce fucks him even *faster* --

So --

Dick *knows* he's trying to hold on to his control, that he's *failing* a little, but he can't be frightened --

He can't *ever* be frightened of *Bruce* --

It's such a *rush*, and it couldn't be better even if he was tumbling through the air on the way to crunching up a bad guy's *face* --

*Nothing* could make it better, nothing nothing *nothing*, and he's *this* close to saying that -- *yelling* that -- when Bruce covers him --

Shadows them with his huge, incredible *wings* --

"I *need* you, Dick!"

"Yours, please, *please* --"

Bite --

So deep --

So deep so *hard* --

And Dick is aware that his body is *trying* to slump, but he can feel Bruce holding him, *keeping* --

Oh, that *suck*, and all the *hot* black turns colors, shows him --

If he could understand the patterns --

The -- rush and *flare* --

He's so --

He needs --

It's so *much*, and when the earthquake comes --

When Bruce takes all of him *over* --

Dick can feel himself *crying* -- but mostly he can feel himself twitching and spasming and *clenching* --

And it doesn't matter that Bruce isn't warm, nothing that *burns* like that *has* to be warm --

And the bite is everything -- no. The bite is the volume turned up on everything, the thing that's pushing him on --

And on --

Bruce's hands on him --

Bruce's wings --

Bruce ends the bite and Dick feels dropped, stuck, lost, *impaled* --

"*Please*!"

And Bruce's hand is out of his hair and on his *dick* and the slick feeling on his throat that means blood and vampire saliva --

That means he's *alive* and not just dying in the best way possible --

He's still holding the gargoyle's *horns* -- and he can't let go.

And Bruce is still holding Dick's hip hard enough that he can't *thrust* into Bruce's fist --

And he can't smell anything but blood and sex --

And he can't hear anything but all the grunting they're doing *together* --

And he can't feel anything but right --

Perfect --

*Partners* --

And it doesn't matter that it can't be true forever and always, and it doesn't matter if it's only ever this one *night*. It's true *now*, and Dick wouldn't be himself if he couldn't live --

("*This* is what it means to fly, Dickie! A life in a *moment*! You trust your papa?")

Yes, Papa, always, always --

"*Dick* --"

"*Yes*!"

"Dick, *now*," Bruce says, and the stroke is his own, fast and just a little brutal because he'd learned to get off in his parents' *tiny* trailer. It's familiar and shocking at once --

He's blushing and *sobbing* --

And *then* he deals with the fact that it's Bruce's hand and no one else's, that it's bigger and harder than his own, that's it's *Bruce's* --

And Bruce flexes *inside* him --

And Bruce is his *father* now -- no, no, not --

God, he's not a *pervert* --

And Roy is laughing in his head --

And Tim is *looking* at him --

And Steph is telling him that he's crazy --

And Jason --

God, he needs Jason here, right *here*, because he can show him this, tell him he understands now, *be* his brother --

Oh, God, Bruce, *thank* you --

But it comes out as more wail than words --

And there's a *vise* around the base of his spine --

"*Dick* --"

But Bruce doesn't get his whole name out before everything in Dick *shatters* into a million pieces, tiny and bright and --

So *hot* -- 

So *perfect* -

He's *losing* it, and it's so good --

He's always *wanted* --

And Bruce's growl makes the wounds on his throat *sing* in him until he's shooting off even more --

God, all over Bruce's *hand*, and Dick wants to lick, to suck --

He *bites* Bruce's wing -- and it brings him back to himself, to the feel of kneeling on stone and gripping still more stone and getting fucked. So. *Hard*.

Dick smiles, knowing it's loose on his face, easy and slick as his still-twitching *dick* --

Dick smiles and bites *harder* --

And Bruce is still gulping air --

And his wing is *shuddering* in Dick's mouth --

And Dick feels drunk on it, *stoned* like the aftermath of letting Roy pick the itinerary for any given date night --

Bruce yanks his wing away and *groans* --

"God, there's just so *much* of you --"

"Dick. *Dick* -- "

"Don't stop, don't stop for *anything* --"

"Your *heat* --"

"It's yours. Anytime you need it, Bruce. Any--"

"Don't --"

"Don't say *no* to me," Dick says, and grins back at Bruce from over his shoulder. "You know I'll just beg."

"Please --"

"*Please*, Bruce. Please keep fucking me. Please *come* in me --"

Bruce *shouts* --

"Please -- mm. Please fill me *up* -- "

"I'm not -- not *Clark* --"

Dick giggles and snorts --

Clenches --

They *shout* together --

And now Bruce is shaking constantly, and the hand on Dick's hip is periodically *jerking* --

So Dick clenches again --

And again --

Wet sounds and *groans* -- and Dick knows that Bruce is licking his other hand clean, that he couldn't wait even one more *second* --

He sounds like an *animal* --

And it won't take much more of this before Dick needs the kind of more that *doesn't* belong on a rooftop -- no matter what his inner thirteen-year-old has to say about it. He manages to uncurl his right hand from the gargoyle's horn, then reaches back to cup the hand on his hip, to squeeze and pet and *massage* it just a little --

Find those pressure points --

"Oh. *Dick* --"

"Boss."

"What -- please -- please, I can't --"

"Boss... give it to me," Dick says, and presses *hard* --

And gasps for the feel of Bruce's dick twitching *violently* inside him. It makes the thrusts unpredictable, impossible to *brace* for --

And the only way to deal with *that* is to clench *just* as hard as he can and open his mouth so Bruce can hear *every* noise he's fucking out of Dick, *forcing* out of Dick.

The question of the moment: Are these sounds familiar? Because of Clark? Because of the bugs? Because of your *fantasies*?

God, on the *rings* --

And that is *absolutely* a date, because he's only about fifteen pounds heavier and an inch taller than he was when he stopped being Robin... which means those old suits will fit *exactly* like the kind of pornography that started making sense -- so much -- to Dick the *second* time he saw Jason in the suit.

The first time was just a little too *fraught* --

Dick laughs again --

Bruce *whimpers* --

And the man who can make that sound *isn't* the man who'd hurt him so badly --

As opposed to the man who promised to always be Dick's friend. The real Bruce.

"*Mine*," Dick says, and tries to clench even *harder* --

And Bruce jerks and *stops*, twitching hard inside him -- and coming.

"*Yes*, Bruce --"

"*Yours*," and that was growled out low enough to make Dick's sternum *vibrate* --

And to make his brand new throat scars *stab* him with the need to... have more of this. Another question to ask --

Another way to *have* this --

Bruce is crying out for every *twitch* --

And the questions can wait until Bruce stops shuddering --

"*Oh* --"

God, out so *fast*, and Bruce is licking his ass, kissing and *nuzzling* his ass --

"Ah... boss?"

"I..." Bruce swallows and *pants* against Dick's hole. "There is, in this moment, a distinct urge to make up an excuse about how uncomfortable you'll find patrol without a certain amount of... cleansing."

Dick snorts and looks back over his shoulder again. "So you're a *dirty* vampire."

"Hm."

"Just what kind of company have you been *keeping*, boss...?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, wry and *amused*, and he looks exactly like himself --

He somehow looks exactly like *himself* even with huge, black wings folded behind his back, even on his knees, even with skin flushed so little that they might as well have been *working* instead of fucking, even with his hair mussed --

And Dick knew it would never happen.

And he knew --

*Roy* knew --

How long ago could he have *had* this?

Dick shivers. It's -- so maybe it's a little messy in Dick's head right now. Maybe --

Bruce breathes deep and frowns. "Dick...?"

Dick shakes his head and holds up a hand. He pulls a disinfectant wipe from his boot, takes care of the worst of the mess, reminds himself *forcefully* that he's *supposed* to see blood, and tucks the wipe in an evidence bag he *dearly* hopes he remembers to get rid of before Alfred takes this suit for cleaning and repairs. He gets dressed, and he watches Bruce do the same, and --

Bruce is frowning.

"I need about one more minute before I'm okay, boss."

"You need not --" Bruce cuts himself off and shakes his head.

"Oh, no, not the stutter -- I'll hurry up," Dick says, and tackles Bruce down to the surface of the roof -- "Hey, you let that happen. I think that already counts as a good sign," and Dick settles into a straddle of Bruce's hips -- wait. "Does this hurt your wings?"

"There is some measure of discomfort, but no pain --"

"I'll move --"

"Don't. Please," Bruce says, and takes Dick's hands *slowly*.

Dick squeezes --

"Tell me how you feel. Please."

"I..." Dick lowers his head --

Realizes he's doing it to hide his face with his stupid *hair* --

He looks up again and smiles ruefully. "Physically, I'm great. Just -- fantastic."

"But emotionally... do you regret this, Dick?"

("My *love* --")

Dick licks his lips. "I regret not listening to Roy about you. I regret not shoving back every time you pushed me when we were partners. I regret letting you use Jason to chase me out of Gotham for *years*. I regret --" Dick shakes his head. "I don't think -- none of that is helpful --"

"It's the truth --"

"So is *this*," Dick says, and jabs at the bat with two fingers. "My sore ass, the grit embedded in my palms and knees, the scars on my throat -- the scars that get *extremely* exciting when you growl just the right way --"

"What? Tell me --"

"*Later*. For now -- oh, boss, it's so good. Tell me you *know* that."

And for a moment Bruce only looks at him, and it's the look that scared the *life* out of him when he was Robin. It's the look where his eyes are just a little too wide, and full, and *freaked* --

"Bruce, it's --"

"Your scents. Your... your perfect, beautiful body..." Bruce swallows and, if anything, looks even *more* freaked. "It's too close to me, now. I can't *ignore* these *feelings* --"

"You *shouldn't* --"

"I fear --"

"You didn't hurt me more than I *wanted* you to --"

"I'm still. Hungry."

Dick takes a breath and -- thinks. "And... for my blood?"

"I've -- I will not starve. I'm *over*-fed --"

"Not the question --"

"I'm hungry for you. *All* of you. Your tastes. So -- human."

Dick licks his lips. "Is it like this with Clark?"

Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "Only... emotionally."

"And... the criminals you feed on? It's only a physical hunger, then?"

"Yes."

"But... me," Dick says, and bites his lip. And tries, *really* hard, not to just drift off on *that*, too, not to -- "You want me."

"The surprise you feel. The *honesty* of it... I want to apologize and I want to apologize for showing you the truth --"

"Go with the first one."

"Dick --"

"You *want* me --"

"*Yes* --"

"And you can have me. *Anytime* --"

"I must -- I must allow you to heal, to *replenish* --"

"I'll drink plenty of Zesti-Ade with my plate of liver Florentine --"

"Dick, please, be *serious* --"

But Bruce stops when Dick covers his mouth with his fingers. Bruce --

Bruce stares at him --

And *breathes* just like there's something better on Dick's hand than the hypoallergenic disinfectant they use on the wipes. Or like the disinfectant just doesn't *matter*. He -- "You want me."

Bruce nods slowly and Dick nods with him and --

And. "I'm not the only one you want."

Bruce closes his eyes and *starts* to turn --

"Stay with me. I -- please, Bruce."

And Bruce opens his eyes again and nods, looking more *bleak* than frightened --

"You -- you've *always* wanted other people."

Another nod, and --

Dick *has* instincts. Good ones, even. Ones that have *told* him things about Bruce... and about the family, too. "Maybe... kind of a lot of other people?"

Bruce shudders and nods like he's confessing to a capital *crime* instead of giving them the best possible *solution* --

So Dick strokes Bruce's mouth and smiles. "It's not like I can stay in Gotham all the time. Not until after I do some more clean-up in the 'haven. But... there's the rest of the family."

Bruce stares at him so --

Dick moves his hand and leans in to kiss Bruce softly, if not really *chastely*. He's pretty sure he'll be able to manage chaste if he castrates himself, but probably *still* not with Bruce --

And that's as good a reason as any to laugh against Bruce's mouth as he nuzzles and licks --

Blood and *come* --

And it's not even close to a surprise that he has Jason's face in his mind, Jason's suddenly-taller-than-he-is body, Jason's funky white skunk-stripe, Jason's bloody *kris* --

Dick pulls back and covers Bruce's mouth again. "We all love you, Bruce. We've all needed -- God, so much *more* of you than you've given. And you look like you want to *plead* with me, but I *promise* it's better. And we won't ever let you get *too* hungry --"

"You can't *speak* for --"

Dick *presses* on Bruce's mouth. "No, I can't. But I know exactly how seductive you can be..."

Bruce shakes his *head* --

"... when all you're really doing is being honest." Dick grins. "Of course, I also know that saying that is just going to make you want to *lie* more -- and you'll maybe even succeed at that for a while -- but I'm not Clark. I *will* be sharing your secrets with the rest of the family, boss. They need me to do it. And so do you."

Bruce cups Dick's hand and tugs it away from his face. "Is this truly a weakness which can be turned to a strength?"

And -- it's a serious question. It's --

Bruce is asking *him* about huge emotional things, and needing the answer from *him*, and it's *exactly* like the way Jason had described it all those years ago. The ground is shifting under his feet, the wind is a whole lot colder than it seemed a minute ago, and it's hard to *breathe* --

But Bruce needs him, and there isn't a Robin on this plane of existence who can stand up to that -- or, for that matter, run away *from* it. So -- "It is, boss. I promise."

Bruce shudders and sits up, *whipping* his wings around Dick and turning the world black and *fragrant*. "Dick..."

"It's okay," Dick says, twisting his hand free so he can cup Bruce's face. "I promise."

"I -- I trust you."

Dick smiles in the black.

And leans in.

end.


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