
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/445987.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon)
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Wally_West
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Wally_West
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Underage_Sex, Established_Relationship, Humor,
      Fight_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-28 Words: 1911
****** Breather ******
by Val_Creative
Summary
     "I don't need Alfred asking questions." /Oneshot.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
                                     X-X-X
 
His body feels weightless. Technically, it isn't—it's more like a sensation of
backwards acceleration. Like inertia.
Dick's hands —an outward force  —cradle him up horizontal before the one on the
middle of Wally's back removes itself. The air thrusts itself out of Wally's
lungs a moment later, whooshing out through his lips with little noise as his
costumed back impacts the thin, protective mat on the gym floor.
Wally chokes in a breath when his head joins the impact and there it is… the
premeditative temperament of Dick's smirk.
"You have now experienced a chokeslam." He adds intently, "or 'nodowa otoshi'."
A wheeze from below. "So.. when did this turn into a Japanese lesson…?" Wally
questions, voice straining as his lungs fight back for oxygen.
His recovery rate kicks in and the fifteen-year-old grunts, aiming a front kick
for the kidneys of his sparring partner. Dick backflips out of its path,
avoiding Wally's leg attempting to hook one of his and laughing quietly while
on a one-arm handstand. Wally arches in his back still firmly planted on the
duo-hued mat, gritting his teeth and springing himself onto both of his feet.
Grinning widely, the speedster motions two fingers, curling and uncurling them.
"Come at me, bro."
Dick's smirk cracks apart, the tip of his pink tongue jutting out mockingly. A
flurry of movement.
The holographic wrestling ring inside the second-floor gymnasium comes in
handy; added bonus, the cushioned mats prevents brain rattling. And, you know,
there's privacy from an distracting audience too. Wally grasps his red-gloved
fingers tight around the Robin cape, swinging the other boy in a circle to
throw him off-balance and makes a confused noise when it releases from Dick's
shoulders soundlessly, fluttering useless between both sparring teens.
With the brief distraction, something hits him in precise midpoint to the back
of his left knee and Wally's bladder screams.
That's flippin' it.
Dick's fighting style interchanges each opponent he faces, but not completely —
there are some things Dick can't change (like the lack of extreme muscle mass
to his spry, athletic build when facing down the baddies like Bane). He ends up
adapting to the situation and then forces it to adapt to him once he's analyzed
it and turned it around.
Batman friggin' knew what he was doing when he picked Dick.
Even when the speedster is tossed back against one of the ring's glowing
corners, Dick seems a bit less steady from the forehead blow. Those familiar,
red-and-black fabric legs straddle uncomfortably against Wally's torso and
chest. Uncomfortable because… aah, well, Wally's cup isn't loosely fitting
anymore.
What did wrestling shows call this move—bouncy bronco?.?—…god, THAT doesn't
sound dirty…
For the record, he doubts that Dicks cup is more pain-free when the first,
slower kiss exchanged between them shifts into another hungrier kiss, the
fronts of Dick's teeth sharply clinking with another set. "Ow," Wally
complains, lips mashed against Dick's when gauntlets tug into his red hair,
yanking, "…-Owow, shit! Rob!" he sucks in a breath when Dick sits up, angrily
panting, "I'd like to not go bald?"
A snicker. "Want me to still teach you the reach around?"
"…"
"…?"
"…we're not talking about wrestling anymore, I'm guessing," Wally mumbles,
sliding his gloves over Dick's thighs and clasping to hold them there. "Not
that… I'm upset about it or anything."
Dick responses dryly to the slightly gloating facial cast, leaning back over,
"I'm sure you're not. Hold up…"
He begins addressing an invisible presence, "Computer System: Authorization–"
Wally's mouth drifts underneath his jaw, biting down gently on exposed flesh,
"B01 Override C-Code…jesus,DUDE, will you just let me do the command—?" Dick
shoves Wally's shoulders against the wrestling ring's corner, earning him a
disgruntled look. He repeats with less patience, "Computer System: Restart
Command. Authorization B01 Override Code 184 Security Lock. Holo-Simulation
Terminated."
The holographic ring dissipates and Wally once again finds himself on his back
to the gym mats, only this time with Dick's weight adding pressure to his
stomach.
"-CONFIRMED-"
A groan. "What was that for?"
"Shut up already," Dick tells him, resting his palms to either side of the
speedster's head. His expression arranges neutrally when Wally burps loudly in
his face and cringes faintly. "…You're lucky you're hot."
"You need to get the hell off my stomach or somethin'."
The weight falls instead to Dick's knees and arms. A hidden zipper to the Kid
Flash suit drags partway between the ridges of Wally's shoulder blades.
"This help?" A suggestive note. Wally's arms wind around his companion's waist,
hugging him close and flipping their positions quickly.
"This does," he replies, letting go as Dick fiddles with his utility belt.
"Sure we're not getting caught?
"I'll make up something about a security glitch—mm—" Once the belt is removed,
once their gloves and gauntlets are thrown off, Wally's bare hands roam over
the curve of his ass before coming back towards the front of his leggings.
Dick's breathing hitches. "—need updates f-for… ohh," the younger whines, when
Wally's fingers slip warm under his jock cup to stroke his balls lightly,
"…nnn- merde…"
"Now THAT definitely wasn't Japanese or English." Wally snorts, lowering his
lips under Dick's ear, mouthing, "Whatcha got for our breather? Carrying
anything special in your Bat-belt?"
A pleasured rumble escapes Dick's throat. "You mean…" he breathes, "Uhh… I've
got hand sanitizer in the eighth compartment."
Green eyes roll exasperated, focusing as the acrobat peels away his mask —
vividly blue eyes blinking. It's enough to erase any withering in Wally's
erection. His cup needed to come off. Now. Wally's fingers return to the open,
the tips glistening with pre-cum, and he works his costume off.
"Oh, I'm glad we came prepared," Wally grumbles. "Seriously, do you have
anything that would actually work for sex?"
"Lotion."
"Lotion?"
Dick confirms, "Don't worry, it's girly scented."
It's a sort of abnormally chummy smile on his best pal's face. Nothing at all
to be trusted. "And… why would I want my asscrack to smell like girly lotion?"
Wally asks him cynically, shoving off the one-piece costume and wiping his
fingertips to his naked, muscular side.
"Probably better than what your ass crack usually smells like."
"I clean in there, DICK," he snaps, using his real name like a pissed curse
word — worth the fleeting, visible eyebrow twitch when Dick hesitates from
fishing out the necessaries from several belt compartments. "…okay, no,
seriously, why the hell don't you pack any lube? The stuff you can get that
isn't labeled?"
An embarrassed glance.
"I don't need Alfred asking questions."
"He doesn't question the condoms?"
"…you know what," the thirteen-year-old insists, sitting up and working his
leggings down towards his knees in a cross-legged position when Wally moves
away, "He's never said anything and I don't think he wants to know — Hey, I
really don't think we should do hands and knees for this." Dick grabs a
freckled shoulder. "It'll reek on the mats. Do you really wanna give away what
happened in here?"
"Then how are we—oh," Wally gulps audibly when a pair of arms tugs him close. H
is legs kneel as he settles up above Dick's lap, reddened penis only semi-
trapped between their abs.
The click of a popped cap; a squirt of liquid from a bottle, and there's an
overpowering smell of citrus.
"You're forever tight, right?" Dick cackles, one of his cold and slicked
fingers pressing in.
"Wh-what?" Wally gasps, suppressing the urge to arch away from the bodily
intrusion and trying to relax himself. His molecules begin to whirrrr from the
anticipation and the mild, accustomed pain. Another cackle. Another long
finger, slowly stretching him for the third and necessary one.
"You really are gonna be the Forty-Year-Old Virgin."
It's one of Dick's tactics since they've done this a handful of times — Wally
can't center his thoughts on any pain if he's too distracted with being
irritated.
He's thankful for it however; it works.
"Fuck you."
"Few more years," Dick reminds him, working him, working him
deepdeepinsidesogood, and Wally's panting grows softer as he cums the first
time on their chests, slightly on Dick's hand between them. "Then I'll bring
Arty and we can double-team you." A long, openly affectionate kiss on his
flushed neck — Dick's mouth feels nice; he doesn't know when the third finger
had been inserted but those fingersleave him empty. "How's that?" whispered to
his sweat-beading, pale skin.
Dick busies himself rolling on his condom, using the fingers that had gripped
around Wally's spent cock to hold him open as he rocks against Wally's opening.
They're still new to this; Wally's body refused to let Dick entirely inside
him. But they're both more patient than others would believe, and they have
opportunities to practice.
Blood fills his penis again, sliding against the wet, rough material of the
Robin tunic. Wally's hips ride the building thrusts of the smaller cock —
halfway inthis time, and he laughs shakily along with Dick. He wraps his arms
around the other boy's neck, burying his nose into the clothed shoulder inches
from him.
His ears catch Dick's mild, praising murmurs accompanied by the moaning of his
name and the fleshy noises of intercourse. The citrus smell is fading away with
human musk and sweat. Maybe it was weird to anyone else but Wally's sure
there's a form of bliss to being taken, being fucked so lovingly-…
"-SECURITY CODE 396: UNKNOWN COMMAND LINE. REBOOTING SECURITY TO ONLINE STATUS-
"
Wally raises his head from Dick's tensed shoulder, watching as blue, ecstasy-
feverish eyes tic up a size at the computer's declaration.
The acrobat pauses for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, clutching at
Wally's narrow hips.
"Computer System: Authorization B01. Terminate Online Status," Dick recites
aloud.
"-AUXILIARY SYSTEM ERROR. RESUMING PROCESS ONLINE STATUS.-"
He groans, not out of agreement but out of frustration.
"Y-you gotta be kidding me!" Dick scrambles out for his abandoned gauntlet,
powering on his wrist computer. "This is not appropriate timing. This is
totally expropriate."
Wally's heart thuds panicky against his ribcage.
"…What's going on?"
"The system's noticed the cameras are down and auto-booting—uugh to run again.
I'm working on it." Dick waves him off to concentrate on tapping out a sequence
of numbers and letters, though his companion gawks at him with horror, though
he's still deep and fully erect inside Wally. "Access to Database Code 112:
Terminate ahh-Unknown Command Line."
"-AUXILIARY SYSTEM ERROR. RESUMING PROCESS ONLINE STATUS.-"
Dick's teeth bare themselves as he snarls to no one particular, adjusting his
legs crossed, tap-tap-tap. "What do you mean 'system error'? I'm in the system!
This is sooo not happening!"
The movement adjusts Wally firmly connected, and a new surge of pleasure shoots
through the speedster as his prostate is nudged heavily.
So close. Wally's hips jerk.
"R-Rob—…"
A low, heavy warning from the younger boy, "Wally, if you cum right now, s-so
help me—"
"Then stop humping me!"
"You can stop clenching!"
"-ONLINE STATUS TERMINATION CONFIRMED-"
The wrist computer automatically powers down with the succession of its task.
Dick lets it dangle from his fingers, falling onto the mat, falling, and Wally
yanks him over — faster than the gauntlet's impact. Their mouths collide
gracelessly and Wally ruts with some helplessness, muffling a yell as he cums a
second time and basks in the following sensation of Dick's own orgasm
radiating.
Maybe 'patient' wasn't exactly the word to describe them.
 
                                     X-X-X
End Notes
     For Kreetchur.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
