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Eavesdropping	By : serious Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 5735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Eavesdropping
- 1
Dinah hated the end of team-ups. It was always a little bit awkward, because if you were on a team the impulse was to invite someone to join and if you weren’t on a team and there were more than two people, maybe someone’d say “Hey, let’s form a team,” and then it’d be awkward. Unless you had a reputation as a loner, and Dinah was a total superteam slut. JLA, JSA, BOP, and before the year was out she’d probably be de-aged and end up joining the Teen Titans. At least then she wouldn’t feel bad for perving on Superboy.

Teaming up with Nightwing was a little less awkward, because he was a Bat and the big guy would never let her poach him, but a lot more awkward because he was Barbara’s old boyfriend. Why’d the good ones, the ones who were flirty but not creepy and wore the hell out of skintight Kevlar, always have strings attached?

Barbara had put her up for the duration of the mission in one of those reasonably ritzy continental hotels (the kind with the gold paneling and the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet). She was in the bathroom, sewing herself up (really hating ninjas) when he barged in. Nightwing was a bit surprised to see her that way; without the jacket, the bodice and fishnets came off a little lingerie-y. French lingerie-y. She hoped the wound she was stitching up would be a bit of a turn-off, but he was a Bat, so there was really no telling.

“Sorry, didn’t know there was someone in here. Babs always used to tie a stocking around the doorknob or something.”

“And that stopped you?” Dinah asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not if the shower was running. There’s something about a shower-fresh redhead… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, completely agree. You ever seen Roy in a bathrobe?”

Nightwing blushed ferociously. Dinah laughed as she tightened a stitch.

“Now it’s my turn to apologize. Have I offended your sensitive nature?”

“And moving on…” He pointed to the box open on the toilet seat. “That the only first-aid kid?”

“Yup.”

Nightwing shut the door behind him and stripped off his uniform’s top. Dinah hadn’t even noticed a part in it. She didn’t object, precisely… he had the kind of body that looked like it was chiseled out of stone.

“Hey, we’re practically family,” Nightwing said, though he left the mask on. That just made things worse.

“If I had a brother that looked like you, my home life would’ve looked like a V.C. Andrews novel.”

“Who’s V.C. Andrews?”

At the age of thirteen, Dinah had devoured everything relating to the Dollangangers. It was possible her mother had thought all the stepfather-raping action would make her know to cry out "stranger danger!" if an older man tried to take advantage of her.

Predictably, she just got kinkier instead.

“No one.”

Nightwing nodded. It was then she noticed the cut across his stomach had reopened and there was blood trickling down toward his pants. He quickly grabbed a handtowel from the sink and hitched his waistline down to soak up the blood, exposing the angles of his hipbone.

“Sorry ‘bout the towel,” he mumbled as he dug into the first-aid kid.

“It’s no problem. I’m used to bleaching out blood.”

He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Looks like that’s not all you’re used to bleaching.” He was looking past her, to the bottle of hair dye in the cupboard.

Dinah leaned in front of it. “I have more fun this way.”

“That I believe.” He began sewing up the wound, and doing an absolutely atrocious job of it. Maybe it was the angle; he had to lean back to get a proper reflection in the mirror when the natural inclination was to lean over what he was working on. Dinah put a hand to his bare chest. He even felt nice, warm and a little slick with dried sweat.

“Here, let me,” she said, pushing him down into the bathtub. He quirked an eyebrow. “Lighting’s better,” she explained, switching on her reading lamp. Her vision was a little blurry in one eye (fucking ninjas) so she bent close to the cut, close enough that the hair along his lower belly flattened when she exhaled. He didn’t seem to notice the pain at all; when she looked up at him, his calm eyes were staring intently at her. Big blue eyes, not quite the unearthly shade of blue that Superman had, maybe not quite as warm, but a great deal more… mischievous. Naughtier. And looking right down her bodice.

Dinah pursed her lips and blew on the muscles of his flat stomach, watched as they tensed into something like granite. After that, she pretty much had to touch them. She brought up her arm and rested her elbow across his abdomen, feeling out the hardness of his muscle with her forearm, ostensibly to better stitch his wound. And however big of a freak Bat-boy was, she was the one rubbing her thighs together while she threaded sutures.

Not to be outdone, he reached down and took her by the hair. Gave it a slight, kindergartener-with-a-ponytail tug. She hurried with the stitches. He bit the finger of his glove and pulled to get some slack, then pulled it off. The sight of him with no shirt and one glove was oddly more ridiculous than no shirt and two gloves, though the mask was still hot. That whole man of mystery thing. He reached down and petted her hair, caressing her face through a mesh of golden locks.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said.

“Dick.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Finish the stitches.”

Dinah grabbed his other hand, the one still in a glove and brought it to her mouth. She pulled the leather away with her teeth, leaving his hand bare. Bruised around the knuckles, callused on the fingertips, but with a rather nice manicure all things considered.

“You’re a man of many contradictions,” she told him as she laid back down to work on the stitches. If she laid down flat enough, she could feel his erection against her chest. It was Barbara and her damned contagious Battiness. That was why Dinah was getting off on stitching up a guy she barely knew in a bathtub with her communicator…

Her communicator!

She reared up to see the watch was still on top of the clothes hamper, piled on top of her folded jacket. Quickly, professionally, Dinah finished the stitching.

“What’s wrong?” ‘Dick’ asked.

“Communicator’s still on. She could be listening.”

Dick grabbed Dinah by the hair, rougher than he had before. More passionate. Someday she’d have to make him explain out how he was exciting her so much with just a little tension on her scalp. He dragged her down, pressing her face to his abs, and she just had to lick… and nibble… and kiss, just the once…

“You didn’t answer my question,” Dinah said when she pulled herself up, loose hair falling across her face.

“There was a question there?”

“Barbara. Eavesdropping.”

“She’s probably not even on that frequency.”

He pulled her down again, his fingers straying across the nape of her neck. The pads were rough, callused, and they made pleasurable little spirals at the top of her spine while she mouthed a lower portion of his anatomy. There was a coppery taste at the edge of the erogenous zone she was exploring; the stitch-job she just finished. She could’ve shied away from it. She didn’t have to lick at the blood; mostly wiped away, like butter spread too thin. But there was just something about the way he groaned when her tongue passed near his cut…

Dick was sitting up anyway to lever at his pants, trying to push them down his legs without breaking contact with the blonde straddling his calves. He got his head up and looked right at the communicator like it was a Hatfield and he was a McCoy.

“Babs, you there?” he asked.

There was a deep breath. A deep, hitched breath that wasn’t all shame and wasn’t all acknowledgment and wasn’t all lust either. It made Dinah bite her lip.

Dick kept staring at the communicator. Dinah was rearing up now, kneeling on top of his legs and watching the communicator like it was a poisonous snake. She barely felt Dick’s hands as they ghosted up the sides of her body, found the zipper on her left side, pulled it down and undid her bodice as if showcasing her to the communicator’s nonexistent eye.

“Babs,” Dick said, his voice suddenly drained of the light frivolity he’d used to flirt with Dinah, now surprisingly deep and almost feral. “I’m taking Dinah’s bodice off. She’s had her jacket off ever since I came in here.” He was doing it slowly, too, letting Dinah hear every tooth of the zipper as it unclasped. Dinah wondered just how sensitive the microphone was. Could it hear the zipper too? Could it hear how her breathing came a little faster? Could it hear the excitement in Dick’s breath, mirroring his little grin, his little conspiring grin that Dinah didn’t know if it was for her or Barbara?

“It’s off now,” Dick said. He lifted his hands to her breasts but didn’t yet touch them. Because, of course, he hadn’t told Barbara he was touching them. Instead, gingerly as if he were taking a cooking sheet out of the oven, he gripped the hem of her bodice between thumbs and forefingers and peeled it down. Dinah was topless in front of a virtual stranger and possibly her best friend and she didn’t feel like covering up or turning the lights down. She felt like showing off. She felt like rocking back and forth, making her breasts jiggle, and she did. Dick watched her bounding breasts. “She’s not wearing a bra,” he reported.

Dinah stood, enjoying Dick’s look of wolfish glee as she towered over him on forty-two inch legs, and ripped her way out of the bodice. It fell down her legs and she stepped out of it, walking over Dick until she was standing over his face. Thank God she was wearing her sexy black thong. She crouched, pausing with her crotch poised over Dick’s face.

“She smells delicious,” Dick said quietly.

Dinah grabbed at the clothes hamper, hauling it over to the side of the tub. Now she could hear the breathing coming over the other line like Barbara was right there next to her. “He says I smell delicious,” she said into the communicator.

Dick took hold of her ankles and worked his hands up her stockings, finally wiggling his fingers into the waistband. He pulled, let it slip through his fingers and sting Dinah. Dinah cried out softly and Barbara’s breathing hiked once more. Dinah smiled at the communicator and leaned over it, close enough that her breath could fog the LED display. “He’s gonna eat me out, Babs,” Dinah whispered. Her voice was low, intimate. She didn’t want Dick to hear.

Dick slipped his fingers into her waistband again, tugged at it again. This time he didn’t stop, not even when the fabric started ripping. Dinah unconsciously worked her hips back and forth a little as the panties were fully torn, falling to either side of Dick. He pressed his mouth to her sex and gave her no time to recover after that.

Dinah sat bolt upright, grabbing the edge of the tub with a white-knuckled grip. Now she was very conscious of the way she rocked forward, trying to make him plunge deeper into her. “He’s licking me! He’s licking me! It’s so good, Barbara, why didn’t you tell me he was so… ooh!”

Dick’s hands cinched at her waist. At first she thought it was to hold her in place, but then his hands moved up her body. It was slow, like he was excavating a priceless artifact, or better yet rubbing life into someone with no sensation. Her stomach flexed as his hands ticked up her ribs, then her breasts swelled magnificently as she sucked in breath, his fingers tickling at her underarms. His thumbs were only just grazing the sides of her cleavage. Dinah grabbed him by the wrists and exerted herself against him, forcing his hands onto her breasts. His tongue quickened in response, his eyes narrowing like a predator about to pounce. While his hands squeezed, his tongue struck her clit like lightning. She cried out, a howl that left her bent double over his face, stomach pressing into the cool porcelain of the bathtub’s rim.

“Dinah,” Barbara’s voice was thick as whiskey, more serious and desperate than Dinah had ever heard it. There was a wet sound too, a denim scraping noise close behind. Her hand was down her pants, Dinah knew. She was pleasuring herself. “Dinah, tell me. I need to know.”

“He… he won’t stop… his hands are on my breasts and he won’t stop… won’t stop making me come!” With the word, it was like the floodgates had opened. Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, letting pleasure obliterate the moment. Dick kept licking her and his cool tongue against her overheated folds was a kind of torture now, but she was grinding down on his face anyway, pulling his shiny black hair as hard as she could. “I won’t let him stop!”

“Dinah, listen to me,” Barbara’s voice was firm, even though she was panting like she’d just run a marathon. “His cock… look at his cock…”

Dinah looked over her shoulder. Dick’s pants weren’t all the way down, but they were low enough for her to see pubic hair. Below that, there was a bulge pressed up against the crotch of his pants that took her breath away. She reached back, and her arm got just far enough for her fingers to breeze against it. Dick stopped licking her, his head thrown back in a savored half-relief. His cock throbbed against her hand.

“You need to suck him off,” Barbara said, and Dinah could swear she heard a zipper going down over the communicator. “You need to taste him.”

Taste him. Yes. Good plan. Best plan Barbara had ever had. Dinah tried to twirl around, wiggle about, get them into a sixty-nine without stopping the miracle Dick was performing between her legs, but in the cramped confines of the tub it was impossible. She straightened and grabbed Dick’s hair again, pulled on it hard enough to get even his attention.

“Make me come again and I’ll blow you,” she said.

He looked up at her, made a hesitant lick along her labia. Son of a bitch. Maybe he liked seeing her caught with no escape between agony and pleasure. Fucking bats.

“Barbara wants you to make me come,” she told him.

He planted his hands on her thighs and his tongue dove inside her, lashing her clit like a stormfront, and Dinah came like she would never stop, moaning breathily. She gyrated atop him, ripping her own stockings on his fingernails.

“Oh fuck!” Barbara screamed, and the line went dead.

Dinah had squirmed around enough to be lying backward on Dick, like they were puzzle pieces assembled by a drunkard, but as she pushed down his pants she saw his cock visibly falter without the slight static, the omnipresent breathing of Barbara listening to them.

The communicator clicked back on. “I’m here!” Barbara said, out of breath. “Multitasking! Dinah, suck his cock! Order-! That’s an order!”

Dinah grinned and kissed the head of his cock, then licked a vein on the shaft up to his foreskin.

Dick groaned. Dinah’s legs shot past him out of the bathtub and her hip laid sideways on his chest, snatch and perfectly round ass on display like a work of art. He squeezed her asscheek and wondered how to describe the succulent nature of it to Barbara. “Babs gave you an order,” he said, jerking his hips up a little bit in search of succor.

Atop him, Dinah rumbled with gentle laughter. Her tongue glazed over his scrotum. “Babs gives me a little leniency to interpret orders on the ground.”

Dick groped blindly across the clothes hamper, the leather of Dinah’s jacket, until he found the communicator and brought it to his dry lips. “Babs, she’s, she’s…” He gasped, losing his voice as Dinah’s lips sealed around his cock. “She’s sucking me.”

Dinah worked her mouth halfway down his ten inches before coming up for air. Her lips tingled. “And doing a damn fine job of it too. Barbara, listen to this.”

She took him deep within her greedy mouth and Dick’s triumphant sigh was fucking music.

The taste of his cock was almost vulgar, it was so overpowering, sweat and bottled adrenaline and the kind of musk you got from fighting and running and flirting all night in skintight leather, but that just made her crave it more. Dinah wanted more of him, his precum, his cock.

The next time she stopped sucking him, his cock was as purple as anything. “He feels so good in my mouth, Barbara,” she said, licking her lips.

Dick only tolerated the intermission for long enough to stagger his way into an upright position, pull Dinah to him, and force her down onto his cock by her hair. Dinah gave him a loving slurp, but her fingers scratched at his chest and parted his lips. Tell her, Dinah was saying.

“You should see her sucking on it. It’s like she can’t get enough of it… she loves the taste of it… She's running her tongue all over it… If feels good, it feels so fucking good… Dinah’s got the sweetest mouth in the world! Gotta know if her mouth’s as hot as her cunt—don’t know how much of this I can take before I have to fuck her—“

“Not much, not much,” Barbara moaned. Dick was too horny to know if it was a prediction or a plea.

“You’re an angel,” Dick gasped, grabbing Dinah’s hand and kissing it. “She’s an angel, Babs.” He sucked at her fingers, let go of them as Dinah cajoled an orgasm out of him with lips and tongue and throat. A long, impassioned, guttural sound heralded it. His cock hardened, swelled.

She moaned on a mouthful of cock, a muffled purr, "Ummmmf, mmm," and came up just in time for his come to hit her chin and splatter on her throat, then roll down her chest. Dick worked his cock with his own hand, frantically, beautifully.

“He’s gonna come,” Dinah said breathlessly. “I’ve made him come.”

Dick didn’t have to grab Dinah by the hair to hold her still while he shot his final ejaculation down her throat, but the noises Barbara made as he told her about it were too good to pass up.

Dick released her. She slumped against his midriff and belatedly swallowed his seed. His come was sticky where it ran down her cleavage; she touched the liquid warmth and moaned at the way it felt between her hand and skin.

“Stay like that, babe. I’ll clean you off.” Dick turned on the faucet. The tub filled with warm water, bringing contented noises out from deep in Dinah’s throat.

“Your operative’s a dirty girl, Babs,” Dick said, lathering up a bar of soap into a washcloth. He massaged the suds into the arms Dinah had thrown around his neck. “Mind if I dust her off a little before I return her to you?”

Barbara cleared her throat. “Speaking of returning her to me, there’s a car parked on the curb with keys in the ignition. When you’re done getting all the grime off, I expect you to show up at my doorstep squeaky-clean and ready for round two. Make one move without me and there’ll be… consequences.”

Dinah made an exaggerated ‘eep!’ face at Dick, relaxed back down against his chest as a soapy washcloth worked its way down the satiny skin of her back.

“And Dinah?”

“Yeah, Barbara?” Dinah acknowledged from a very contented, very sleepy place.

“I’ll expect you to be wearing the very same fishnets Dick tore. One more thing: When I tell you to suck my boyfriend’s cock, I expect it to be in your mouth by the time I finish my sentence.”

Dinah looked up at Dick.

The washcloth began to scrub between her legs.

“You heard the lady,” he said, smiling wickedly.

Dinah made sure to set the communicator in the soap dish before her head sunk below the water.
- 1
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Eavesdropping