
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/49969.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DC_Comics
  Relationship:
      Nightwing/Robin_III, Dick_Grayson/Tim_Drake
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Tim_Drake
  Additional Tags:
      Fingering
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-12 Words: 855
****** The Color of Pleasure ******
by Rubynye
Title: The Color of Pleasure
Fandom: DC Comics
Characters/Pairing: Dick/Tim (Nightwing/Robin III)
Rating: NC-17
Based on: General birdboy love.
Disclaimer: These characters and their settings aren't mine, though I know just
whom I'd hire to draw this if they were.
It's pretty dim in Tim's bedroom, with the computer asleep and only the
streetlights and city glow for illumination. It's almost too dark to make out
the hue of Dick's blue stripes, though the division from the black still shows
up distinctly. To say nothing, Dick thinks, of the molecule-sharp boundary of
black and blue against Tim's skin, as he smiles a little wider and pushes just
a little harder, damp hair sliding thrust by thrust down over his eyes. His
hands are far too busy to push it back, with one braced on the bed, Tim's fist
curled tight around his wrist, and the two blue-striped fingers of the other
moving in Tim's body, blue and black against glowing flesh.
If he had a third hand he could better feel Tim, touch his flushed-hot cheeks,
cup his waist as he writhes in a tight little circle, stroke his cock where
it's hard and leaking up against his belly. He really should lean down; he
knows how good Tim would taste in his mouth, how he'd feel warm and heavy on
his tongue, the way he'd twist to muffle his scream in the pillow. But he
leaned back to keep his weight off Tim's healing ribs, and now he can't stop
watching the waves up Tim's spine, his hair stuck to his forehead and the
shadows of his lashes on his bruise-dark cheeks, the dents of his teeth in his
tender lower lip. Dick can't stop watching as Tim hitches a knee a little
higher over his elbow, braces against his grip on Dick's arms and shoves
himself into the thrusts. He can't stop watching his fingers, edged with their
blue stripes, disappearing into Tim.
Tim's mouth opens, red and sore and wet, and Dick thinks he'll finally get that
scream, but Tim actually gasps recognizable words. "Reckless," he whispers,
grinning around it. "This is---"
Dick twists his fingers, and can hear the cry behind the choke. "You're gonna
say that until you come, won't you?" He shoves harder, almost too hard, and can
see shining slivers of eye beneath Tim's damp lashes, all whites as Tim's eyes
roll back. He arches, corded muscles trembling; he holds the arch, and Dick's
seriously torn between watching and fastening his mouth on a nipple.
Tim's fingers tighten on Dick's wrist till they're denting the glove. Tim's
pulling, and his mouth is dark and tender, and Dick can barely spare enough
care to lean over him rather than on him as he presses his mouth to Tim's,
tasting heat and life and the blood just beneath his skin, tasting himself on
Tim's tongue. Tasting Tim's scream as Tim pushes up into the kiss, muffling
himself with Dick's mouth, squeezing tight around Dick's fingers as he comes.
Tim's whimpering into Dick, his mouth going slack. Dick doesn't realize he's
not breathing in order to listen until his chest starts to hurt, until Tim
falls back into the pillow and he has to suck in a deep breath. Tim sinks away
from him, legs limp over his arms, hands fallen loose; Dick eases his fingers
out and Tim barely shudders, half-smiling, looking like he's passed out, and if
Dick can be instrumental in convincing his little brother to get a little
sleep, really, he's content. He swipes at his glove with a wipe, and doesn't
lean down and lick Tim's belly, and takes another steadying breath, filling his
lungs and emptying them. His skin prickles and tingles against the suit, and
part of him wants to strip off, slide under the sheet he's pulling over Tim,
and curl up around him for a few sweet hours.
But, he's got a patrol to finish, and Tim needs to sleep.
So Dick sits back on his knees, putting himself back together and watching Tim
breathe, and doesn't jump even a little when Tim says perfectly clearly, "those
files are on my computer, right?"
"You're supposed to be asleep."
"You're the one who climbed through my window." Tim opens one eye, smile
drawing up beneath it. "When my dad and Dana are home, no less. Sleeping right
down the hallway."
Dick sighs as emphatically as he can. "Everything I've got is on your computer,
and Oracle sent a note too. And it'll all be there four hours from now. Now
will you go to sleep?"
Tim yawns elaborately and shuts his eye. Dick leans down and kisses the eyelid
for emphasis, its crinkles smoothing beneath his mouth; he also kisses the
fading warm flush on Tim's cheekbone as he steps backwards out of Tim's bed.
Backing into the window, Dick ducks so his shadow skims the foot of the bed, so
he can watch Tim's face softened and peaceful in the low light, his hand
uncurling easily on the pillow.
Dick grins, swings a leg over the sill, and goes.
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