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Shameful	By : Owlgirl Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 7345 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 1-Shameful
- 1
“Almost all our desires, when examined, contain something too shameful to reveal.” ~ Victor Hugo

Nightwing shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be meeting Slade in the night with the fact nobody else knows. But he did invite the man, maybe even tease him. It’s so wrong and yet there’s something so dark and wonderful about it all, he would never admit it to anybody. But all of a sudden a hand comes along his neck and he pushes into it.

“Little red bird.”

“Slade,” he turns around in the grip and faces the man, “will I always be a little bird to you?”

“Of course.” And Slade already has the mask off; he wraps his arms around Dick and kisses the young man. Nightwing accepts it fully and lets Slade grab onto his long hair and pull him down to deepen the exchange to perfection. He never wants it to end; he wants to melt in Slade’s arms even though he would never allow himself to, except after the comfort and heat of their long nights.

“Even though I don’t go by Robin anymore?”

“You’ll always be my bird.”

He laughs at the sentence, it shouldn’t seem so funny but there’s an irony within the words that Dick just accepts, has accepted for a long time. Slade caresses the masked skin under his left eye, kissing him again slowly. His fingers are graceful along Dick’s skin, the tiny spot behind his ear… the curve of his neck, “We should go.” Dick watches the man take his hand and kiss each gloved fingertip, the strikingly blue eye still watching his face as he blushes (still uncontrollably even after all the years).

“I have a place--”

“I know.” Of course he does. Slade knows everything, like he knows Dick’s found out about the cameras…and Bruce hasn’t.

“Well, can you keep up?” And Slade smiles and kisses him lightly on the lips before letting the bird turn to leap across the roofs. He lets Dick lead, and the young man shouldn’t be enjoying it but he knows Slade won’t let him take a mile if he’s given an inch.

Slade stays on Dick’s heels the entire time; he can hear the older man’s breathing nearly at the back of his neck, close like Bruce was always close during the old days, before he let the leash get too long. Dick smiles to himself, sprinting across the last rooftop to the edge; he watches Slade as he begins to go down. He bought out the top floors for a reason, not just stealth-wise, but also for this. A crazy wild…can he call it an affair if he has no one (even though Bruce will always be in the back of his mind, even still when he knows Dick has invited the mercenary to his place)?

“Dick,” Slade’s breathing is steady and light, not even close to worn-out, and he licks a stripe up the side of his neck, putting a finger under the fabric to gain more contact with skin. The wetness makes Dick shiver mentally, he’s not truly giving into the man yet, he wants to play a little more, rile Slade up.

“I have a feeling this would be a lot more fun without clothes,” the remark makes Dick laugh, knowing Slade is grinning wryly. “And with a bed.”

“Well, I have one of those…but first…,” Dick knows it shouldn’t be so easy to turn around and drop to his knees, but he allows himself to. He needs this, and he needs Slade to know that. He licks at the material covering the man’s crotch, it tastes like Kevlar and smoke, too familiar a taste and Dick has to remind himself not to shiver again.

“Hmmm, little bird wants to play?” Slade pets Dick from the top of his head to his jaw, making the young man nuzzle cutely. Dick gives another wet stripe up the blue material and it doesn’t take long for Slade to drop the belt to the floor and let Nightwing slip the waistband around his thighs.

He doesn’t want to think about how much of a…*whore* he is…and he doesn’t want to use that word because he doesn’t think that’s what he is, even after all the years of Jason saying it to him. But it’s easy with Slade, and the man knows that and knows that he could ask Dick anytime and he would fall or spread. But when he gets the cock in his mouth it’s easier not to think and just do it.

He looks up at Slade, eyes wide and blue behind the white-out lenses, still bobbing around the shaft. Dick’s still blushing, only slightly less then before but when Slade bucks once, he lets out a whimper but doesn’t slide off. Slade grins and chuckles and runs a hand through the long strands on his bird’s head. “You know…I can’t resist.”

Dick doesn’t let go to talk, just keeps sucking and fucking his own mouth on the hard member. He closes his eyes coming off, and licks the cock like an animal, like it’s the best thing in the world. He wraps one hand around the base and covers the head again, following each suck with a small jerking motion.

“I think your mouth was made for this, Grayson.” Dick tries to ignore Slade’s voice, focusing on the taste of pre-cum along his tongue and the weight of the organ brushing through his mouth. He grabs onto Slade’s thighs when the man pushes again. He pretends that moan didn’t happen and continues sucking. Slade grabs his hair to hold the young vigilante still and fucks his mouth until it’s as red as the tiny Robin suit he used to wear in the old days. Slade will admit that thought is enough to make him cum, pulling Nightwing off his dick and spraying semen onto the flushed skin and into his too-long black bangs.

Dick should have seen that coming; he runs two blue fingers over one side of his face, over a white-out lens, collecting a fair amount of cum, before sucking them into his mouth. Maybe Jason was right; he salivates on the digits, extracting them with a loud-wet pop; maybe he is a bit of a whore.

“Very classy, little red bird.” Slade smirks and pulls the vigilante to his feet before he kisses him and pushes Dick a few feet to his bed. The young man hits the mattress with a bounce and immediately slips onto his elbows to watch Slade finish stripping.

Dick doesn’t know how long he looks at the expanse of muscle that is Slade Wilson’s chest, he wants to touch, wishes that it wasn’t Slade’s. Apparently he had moved his hand because the mercenary has his fingers circled around his wrist. “You going to strip Grayson or do I have to do it for you?”

He looks away behind the safety of the mask and tucks his fingers under the catches of his suit and undoes each with the rise of his spine. He slips the tight material off his arms before Slade twists him around to rip the rest of the suit off his legs. He forgot how much he didn’t like having his back to Slade; the man slips two fingers down the ridges of his spine, wedging them down to the crack of Dick’s ass. “Lube?”

“Nightstand.” Slade doesn’t have to ask, Dick knows. He can hear Slade pulling open the drawer and rifling through, and then a small chuckle of victory.

“Little bird, how long has it been?” He kisses the nape of Dick’s neck, running a finger along the curves of his domino mask and whispers in his ear, “I think you should prepare yourself.”

The younger man turns his head to the side just so he knows Slade is serious and by the size of his smirk—“Slade, you’re…I--”

“I want to see you.”

Dick can feel the bile rise up in his throat, “How?”

“Turn over.”

He does because it’s the only thing he can do; Slade’s still smirking when he hands Dick the bottle of lubricant. The younger man spreads his legs wide, flicks open the bottle and pours a generous amount on three digits. He doesn’t look at Slade when he circles his anus, spreading the oily substance, and shoving one finger in. He bites down on his lip, it shouldn’t feel so good, he should be used to it, but it has been months.

“Don’t hold it in.” When he inserts the next finger, he lets the whimper out. Slade chuckles at the young man; he runs a hand over one of Dick’s calves, still standing, watching. Dick takes his fingers out and shoves them in with moan; he works a fast rhythm when the third digit enters. He throws his head back and arches his spine; it’s all unbearably good. His dick hardens with each thrust, and it’s nowhere near as good as having the real thing—he opens his eyes and right there is Slade’s cock, already dripping pre-cum again. He wants to lick it up, to have Slade cum on him again.

“Ah…ah…*Slade*…”

“You’re really enjoying yourself, little bird.”

“*More*.”

“Are you ready?”

Dick turns over, thrusts his starving ass in the air, still fingering himself halfway to orgasm. Slade grabs his wrist and removes the dripping digits. He doesn’t say another word, just pushes in leaving Nightwing breathless.

“I knew you could do a good job…and your face, Grayson.”

Dick buries his masked face as far as he can into the sheets, hoping to wipe off the remainder of Slade’s semen, though the man grabs hold of his hair and brings him away from the soft fabric. “I know you really enjoyed that.” Of course he did, he won’t admit it out loud, not in front of Slade. “Why else would you want me to keep coming back?” He doesn’t say it’s because Slade is the perfect replacement for Bruce, just moans, “*harder*.”

Slade complies; he uses the same rhythm Dick used to finger himself, finds that perfect little spot that makes Dick scream over and over again. The aerialist comes hard, thrusting back onto Slade and moaning loudly. He fists the sheets and collapses as much as Slade will let him, still pushing in.

The young man finds intelligent thought again, complete sentences. Slade continues to penetrate him, holding onto the narrow hips, bruising the bird and bringing him back hard against the man’s erection, Slade comes silently, holding Dick with a death grip until he’s empty, leaving the young man sore and wide open.

Dick feels tired, tired of the game when Slade pulls out and tries to kiss him. He moves his head, dodging until the man grabs his hair and forces him into the exchange. Dick holds back the whimper and finds his arms again, pushes and gets nowhere.

“No afterglow, my little gypsy *whore*?”

The brunette turns his head and tries to get away again, anything, anything so he doesn’t have to face this again. Slade licks the side of his face, pulls him into another wet, breathtaking kiss. Dick doesn’t enjoy the feeling of melting in the mercenary’s arms, but he can’t do anything about it, not when Slade is a warm body, something that he can give himself up to.

“You’re still aroused,” it’s a whisper against Dick’s ear, in that voice he loves. He whines and pulls Slade into a kiss, licks his way around the man’s mouth, sucks and loses himself. There’s a smile in Slade’s eye as he pushes harder into the kiss and topples them on the bed until he can let go.

It’s the point where Dick should be protesting ‘that’s enough’ and watch Slade leave just before he goes to jerk off in the shower. But the old man’s got a skilled mouth, and a skilled tongue and a skilled just about
everything. Dick moans louder then he’s ever wanted to when the man sucks hard on the head of his penis. He fists his hands in white hair and doesn’t find anything but something to hold onto.

“*Yes*--mmm…Slade…” There’s a humming around the sensitive silk soft skin. Slade is thoroughly enjoying himself, on making the acrobat cry and writhe. Dick pushes up into his mouth, makes another sound of joy as the mercenary sucks hard.

If it weren’t for the goatee tickling his skin, he could pretend, see in his mind that it’s him and Bruce. The thought makes Dick thrust harder into Slade’s mouth until he’s coming down the man’s throat. He moans again, and doesn’t let go until Slade’s slipping off Dick’s finally flaccid penis.

He feels worn out, tired and doesn’t put up a fight when Slade thrusts back into him, fully hardened again. Dick gives off a little whimper and turns to his side, throwing his leg over Slade’s shoulder and digging his heel in on one particular harsh push. He really could fall asleep if the mercenary wasn’t being so…unrelenting.

Dick can hear Slade’s growl, and he flicks open one eye just to look at that damn smirk and then the expression on the man’s face as he orgasms into the aerialist for the second time. He waits quietly as Slade recovers and pulls out, leaving Dick sated and drained.

The acrobat lets out a groan when Slade runs a hand up one messy thigh and gives the young man another wet kiss. Dick lazily accepts and plays an active part in the exchange before the mercenary leaves him to finish getting dressed.

“Well, Grayson…it’s been fun…as always. You know how to reach me.”

Slade is gone without another word, the sound of his boots towards the window, closing it behind him, and leaving Dick feeling worse then he felt before. The aerialist rips his dirty domino off his face before grabbing a pillow. He cuddles up to it and sighs against the clean cotton. “Damnit,” He rolls over, feels more semen leak out between his thighs but decides he really doesn’t care. He’ll clean up in the morning before he heads over to Wayne Manor to act like everything’s okay.
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