Fic: Through the Veil, Bruce/Dick, NC-17, Deathfic
Again inspired by BradyGirl_12's challenges - this time for a Halloween fic:
Title: Through the Veil
Author: Koji
Characters/Pairings: Slash - Bruce/Dick
Genre: Romance / Angst
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AUish, OOC, Angst, Smut, Deathfic
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: DC Characters & places don’t belong to me, no money is made.
Prompts Used:
Colour: Black
Traditional Element: Spirit
Cemetery
Setting - Gotham City.
THROUGH THE VEIL.
He sat in his tall chair, sipping whiskey and staring sightlessly out of the window. The sky was over-cast, thick grey clouds obscuring the moon and reflecting the lights of the city in the distance.
From the doorway, Alfred watched the man he’d nurtured and raised, his lips turned down in an unhappy bow, his face lined with grief and sadness beyond his years.
It’d been two months since the man had last left his home - last donned the outfit of the Bat - two months since a miscalculated throw of a Batarang had ended the life of one Dick Grayson, partner and lover to the shell the man left behind.
The accident had turned their world on its head, and he grieved not only for Dick - who’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but for Bruce - it was clear that the man was punishing himself - and would continue to do so until he died; which - if he carried on his self destructive path of binge drinking and under-eating - would be sooner rather than later.
“Sir,” his voice came out a little rough, conversation wasn’t something that happened often anymore, “I’m off for the evening - I’ll be at the Grand Gotham Hotel if you should need me, just ask for the Butler’s Halloween party in the Duchess Ballroom.”
He wasn’t expecting a reply, and wasn’t surprised when he received no acknowledgement at all. Letting the door snick gently shut, he pulled on his coat and hurried to his car; he needed the light and laughter of the party, he needed a distraction.
----------
It was nearing midnight when the clouds began to race, a fierce wind sent them streaking across the sky as it howled around the building.
Bruce was nearly at the bottom of the decanter and falling asleep when he saw it, a trail of glitter winking in the sky. Dismissing it as spots on his vision, he reached down for the crystal bottle, and tumbled out of his chair.
“Oh Bruce,” he froze as a familiar and sorely missed voice reached his ears, “What are you doing to yourself?”
Every element in his body was screaming for him to look up to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating, but his stomach roiled in fear, it was too much - he couldn’t delude himself with this false hope, “You’re not really here.” He grated out, hand patting around for the bottle, “I’ve just found a new way of torturing myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault Bruce,” a slender black gloved hand pressed over his own, and the smell of sweat and Kevlar reached his nose, “You have to know that - it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I should have seen you - I shouldn’t have slipped - I shouldn’t have thrown that batarang.”
“Look at me Bruce,” he flinched as the hand moved away and touched his chin, “Please Bruce - I don’t have long; look at me.”
It was the miserable desperation in the man’s tone that had his eyes shooting open without his conscious thought - he could never stand to hear Dick upset, and his body reacted automatically.
“You… you’re … how?” tears welled in his eyes as he studied the figure before him - the muscular curves and flowing black hair as familiar to him as his own, “How is this possible?”
“It’s Halloween Bruce,” Dick smiled and removed the mask from his face, his sad blue eyes wet as well, “I’ve got until dawn - then I have to leave, and I can’t come back.”
“But that’s only a few hours,” Bruce lunged forward and tightly embraced his partner, his contact starved body absorbing the heat and solidity of his form, “Why can’t you stay?”
“Because I’m dead Bruce - the dead can’t stay with the living, you know that,” tears dripped down onto the man’s hand as he traced the pronounced cheek bones with his fingertips, “Tonight is Halloween - the veil is thin, and my desire to see you was strong enough to bring me through; but it’s only for tonight.”
“I can’t live without you Dick,” Bruce’s eyes were haunted and filled with an honesty the other man had never seen, “I’ve tried and I can’t - there’s no point to life without you.”
“What about the Gothamites? What about the people you swore to protect?”
“They’re not you,” Bruce shook the boy, “If I can’t even protect you then what use am I? They don’t matter - no one matters.”
“Oh Bruce,” Dick felt his heart break as he took in the wild eyes and tears - he’d only ever meant to love the beautiful man who’d taken him in; he’d never meant to break him - not like this, never like this, “Please - let’s … let’s just make the most of this - we’ve got a chance to say goodbye, please - please don’t waste it.”
“I won’t do this without you Dick, not now that I know.” Bruce warned, but was cut off as Dick pressed their mouths together, sealing their lips in a desperate kiss.
Dick submitted as Bruce pushed him backwards, stiff fingers clumsily finding the catches of the costume and stripping it free. He let a silent prayer leave his mouth as he was fully bared - the last traces of Nightwing leaving him for the final time.
Concentrating on memorising the form in front of him, the older man ran his tongue over the silky soft skin, tasting salt from sweat and tears as he saw to his task.
He was fully erect by the time Bruce’s hot mouth reached his shaft, sliding up and down, over the sensitive flesh, gathering the precum up and letting it dribble down his cleft, “Please…” he tilted his head backwards and groaned the sensations overwhelming after two months of floating in a feeling less void, “Bruce!”
Ignoring his lover’s pleas, he carried on his careful ministrations, sucking and nibbling until his mouth was sore and Dick’s cock throbbed.
With careful hands, he parted his partner’s legs and raised his hips, carefully stroking the tender flesh of his thighs.
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the man’s hole, spearing his tongue inside. He had no lubricant in the room, and was determined that his lover would be loose and prepared before he attempted entry.
“Please,” Dick writhed, panting and hot, “Just do it Bruce - please, trust me - it won’t hurt me.”
He licked and sucked the muscle, adding his fingers one after the other - watching as the body beneath him shook and trembled. When he was satisfied, he raised his fingers to Dick’s lips and entreated him to suck - with his free hand; he undid his slacks and pushed the fabric of his boxers out of the way.
The pressure, the wicked teeth and playful tongue all drove him to higher heights, and he quickly used the digits to slick his cock; positioning himself and thrusting all in one fluid movement, “Love you,” he panted, “Never told you enough - always loved you.”
“Love… you … too,” Dick managed to grit out between thrusts, his eyes rolling back into his head as the pleasure reached its crescendo, “Always - will!”
Bruce came with a wild cry, and gathered his lover tightly into his arms, afraid to let go as his softening cock slid free, “I can’t do this without you Dick,” his voice was tired and old, “Don’t ask me to.”
“I…” he knew he should offer the man words of strength and comfort, but the idea of separation burned him too, “I won’t.”
Having made their decision, he pulled away from the man, his body shimmering with energy, “Follow me.”
Bruce hurriedly pulled his slacks back into place and smoothed down his shirt. Taking Dick’s hand, they walked out into the darkness of the Manor grounds.
He barely noticed the cold or the sharp stones that tore the tender flesh of his feet - all he could hear and see was the beautiful boy by his side. It wasn’t until they reached a familiar mausoleum that he felt feeling shudder back through him, followed by a wave of nausea - he’d not been back to the graveyard since the dirt had swallowed his love.
“Bruce,” Dick was stood on his own grave, the otherworldly glow stronger now, “You’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” he embraced the boy, feeling a strange cold seep into his skin and leave him light headed.
“Close your eyes Bruce,” Dick kissed him deeply, “Just relax - I’m here, I’m with you.”
“Dick,” Bruce felt his knees sag and allowed the other man to guide him down, “Dick…”
---------
Alfred returned home early the next morning, hanging his coat in the hall he hurried to the kitchen and made Bruce’s breakfast, hoping that he could coax the man to eat something.
Taking the tray to the sitting room, he was surprised to find it empty and the large window open. Putting his burden down on the side, he moved to close it.
As his fingers tightened the latch, a piece of black fabric tangled in the curtain caught his eye. Teasing it free, he felt a lump rise in his throat - the mask in his hand bringing feelings of alarm to the fore-front.
His old bones ached as he raced down to the cave, but there was no sign of Bruce, and the case that displayed the black and blue costume was undisturbed. Running his hands through his hair, he began his search of the manor.
It was mid afternoon by the time he’d determined that Master Bruce was not home, and he donned his coat and shoes - there was only one place left to look.
The air was cold with an early freeze, and the sun looked washed out by the grey clouds. He entered the Wayne family plot and made his way towards the grave.
He wasn’t surprised to find Bruce slumped over the headstone, skin blue and dead - he’d suspected this day had been coming since the EMT's had pronounced Dick gone.
What set tears in his eyes and a pain to his chest was the beatific smile on the man’s face, “I hope you’re together now.”
He was pretty sure it was his imagination, but for a moment, he was almost sure he could hear them laughing together - now and for always, the dynamic, inseparable, duo.
END
Title: Through the Veil
Author: Koji
Characters/Pairings: Slash - Bruce/Dick
Genre: Romance / Angst
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AUish, OOC, Angst, Smut, Deathfic
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: DC Characters & places don’t belong to me, no money is made.
Prompts Used:
Colour: Black
Traditional Element: Spirit
Cemetery
Setting - Gotham City.
THROUGH THE VEIL.
He sat in his tall chair, sipping whiskey and staring sightlessly out of the window. The sky was over-cast, thick grey clouds obscuring the moon and reflecting the lights of the city in the distance.
From the doorway, Alfred watched the man he’d nurtured and raised, his lips turned down in an unhappy bow, his face lined with grief and sadness beyond his years.
It’d been two months since the man had last left his home - last donned the outfit of the Bat - two months since a miscalculated throw of a Batarang had ended the life of one Dick Grayson, partner and lover to the shell the man left behind.
The accident had turned their world on its head, and he grieved not only for Dick - who’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but for Bruce - it was clear that the man was punishing himself - and would continue to do so until he died; which - if he carried on his self destructive path of binge drinking and under-eating - would be sooner rather than later.
“Sir,” his voice came out a little rough, conversation wasn’t something that happened often anymore, “I’m off for the evening - I’ll be at the Grand Gotham Hotel if you should need me, just ask for the Butler’s Halloween party in the Duchess Ballroom.”
He wasn’t expecting a reply, and wasn’t surprised when he received no acknowledgement at all. Letting the door snick gently shut, he pulled on his coat and hurried to his car; he needed the light and laughter of the party, he needed a distraction.
----------
It was nearing midnight when the clouds began to race, a fierce wind sent them streaking across the sky as it howled around the building.
Bruce was nearly at the bottom of the decanter and falling asleep when he saw it, a trail of glitter winking in the sky. Dismissing it as spots on his vision, he reached down for the crystal bottle, and tumbled out of his chair.
“Oh Bruce,” he froze as a familiar and sorely missed voice reached his ears, “What are you doing to yourself?”
Every element in his body was screaming for him to look up to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating, but his stomach roiled in fear, it was too much - he couldn’t delude himself with this false hope, “You’re not really here.” He grated out, hand patting around for the bottle, “I’ve just found a new way of torturing myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault Bruce,” a slender black gloved hand pressed over his own, and the smell of sweat and Kevlar reached his nose, “You have to know that - it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I should have seen you - I shouldn’t have slipped - I shouldn’t have thrown that batarang.”
“Look at me Bruce,” he flinched as the hand moved away and touched his chin, “Please Bruce - I don’t have long; look at me.”
It was the miserable desperation in the man’s tone that had his eyes shooting open without his conscious thought - he could never stand to hear Dick upset, and his body reacted automatically.
“You… you’re … how?” tears welled in his eyes as he studied the figure before him - the muscular curves and flowing black hair as familiar to him as his own, “How is this possible?”
“It’s Halloween Bruce,” Dick smiled and removed the mask from his face, his sad blue eyes wet as well, “I’ve got until dawn - then I have to leave, and I can’t come back.”
“But that’s only a few hours,” Bruce lunged forward and tightly embraced his partner, his contact starved body absorbing the heat and solidity of his form, “Why can’t you stay?”
“Because I’m dead Bruce - the dead can’t stay with the living, you know that,” tears dripped down onto the man’s hand as he traced the pronounced cheek bones with his fingertips, “Tonight is Halloween - the veil is thin, and my desire to see you was strong enough to bring me through; but it’s only for tonight.”
“I can’t live without you Dick,” Bruce’s eyes were haunted and filled with an honesty the other man had never seen, “I’ve tried and I can’t - there’s no point to life without you.”
“What about the Gothamites? What about the people you swore to protect?”
“They’re not you,” Bruce shook the boy, “If I can’t even protect you then what use am I? They don’t matter - no one matters.”
“Oh Bruce,” Dick felt his heart break as he took in the wild eyes and tears - he’d only ever meant to love the beautiful man who’d taken him in; he’d never meant to break him - not like this, never like this, “Please - let’s … let’s just make the most of this - we’ve got a chance to say goodbye, please - please don’t waste it.”
“I won’t do this without you Dick, not now that I know.” Bruce warned, but was cut off as Dick pressed their mouths together, sealing their lips in a desperate kiss.
Dick submitted as Bruce pushed him backwards, stiff fingers clumsily finding the catches of the costume and stripping it free. He let a silent prayer leave his mouth as he was fully bared - the last traces of Nightwing leaving him for the final time.
Concentrating on memorising the form in front of him, the older man ran his tongue over the silky soft skin, tasting salt from sweat and tears as he saw to his task.
He was fully erect by the time Bruce’s hot mouth reached his shaft, sliding up and down, over the sensitive flesh, gathering the precum up and letting it dribble down his cleft, “Please…” he tilted his head backwards and groaned the sensations overwhelming after two months of floating in a feeling less void, “Bruce!”
Ignoring his lover’s pleas, he carried on his careful ministrations, sucking and nibbling until his mouth was sore and Dick’s cock throbbed.
With careful hands, he parted his partner’s legs and raised his hips, carefully stroking the tender flesh of his thighs.
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the man’s hole, spearing his tongue inside. He had no lubricant in the room, and was determined that his lover would be loose and prepared before he attempted entry.
“Please,” Dick writhed, panting and hot, “Just do it Bruce - please, trust me - it won’t hurt me.”
He licked and sucked the muscle, adding his fingers one after the other - watching as the body beneath him shook and trembled. When he was satisfied, he raised his fingers to Dick’s lips and entreated him to suck - with his free hand; he undid his slacks and pushed the fabric of his boxers out of the way.
The pressure, the wicked teeth and playful tongue all drove him to higher heights, and he quickly used the digits to slick his cock; positioning himself and thrusting all in one fluid movement, “Love you,” he panted, “Never told you enough - always loved you.”
“Love… you … too,” Dick managed to grit out between thrusts, his eyes rolling back into his head as the pleasure reached its crescendo, “Always - will!”
Bruce came with a wild cry, and gathered his lover tightly into his arms, afraid to let go as his softening cock slid free, “I can’t do this without you Dick,” his voice was tired and old, “Don’t ask me to.”
“I…” he knew he should offer the man words of strength and comfort, but the idea of separation burned him too, “I won’t.”
Having made their decision, he pulled away from the man, his body shimmering with energy, “Follow me.”
Bruce hurriedly pulled his slacks back into place and smoothed down his shirt. Taking Dick’s hand, they walked out into the darkness of the Manor grounds.
He barely noticed the cold or the sharp stones that tore the tender flesh of his feet - all he could hear and see was the beautiful boy by his side. It wasn’t until they reached a familiar mausoleum that he felt feeling shudder back through him, followed by a wave of nausea - he’d not been back to the graveyard since the dirt had swallowed his love.
“Bruce,” Dick was stood on his own grave, the otherworldly glow stronger now, “You’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” he embraced the boy, feeling a strange cold seep into his skin and leave him light headed.
“Close your eyes Bruce,” Dick kissed him deeply, “Just relax - I’m here, I’m with you.”
“Dick,” Bruce felt his knees sag and allowed the other man to guide him down, “Dick…”
---------
Alfred returned home early the next morning, hanging his coat in the hall he hurried to the kitchen and made Bruce’s breakfast, hoping that he could coax the man to eat something.
Taking the tray to the sitting room, he was surprised to find it empty and the large window open. Putting his burden down on the side, he moved to close it.
As his fingers tightened the latch, a piece of black fabric tangled in the curtain caught his eye. Teasing it free, he felt a lump rise in his throat - the mask in his hand bringing feelings of alarm to the fore-front.
His old bones ached as he raced down to the cave, but there was no sign of Bruce, and the case that displayed the black and blue costume was undisturbed. Running his hands through his hair, he began his search of the manor.
It was mid afternoon by the time he’d determined that Master Bruce was not home, and he donned his coat and shoes - there was only one place left to look.
The air was cold with an early freeze, and the sun looked washed out by the grey clouds. He entered the Wayne family plot and made his way towards the grave.
He wasn’t surprised to find Bruce slumped over the headstone, skin blue and dead - he’d suspected this day had been coming since the EMT's had pronounced Dick gone.
What set tears in his eyes and a pain to his chest was the beatific smile on the man’s face, “I hope you’re together now.”
He was pretty sure it was his imagination, but for a moment, he was almost sure he could hear them laughing together - now and for always, the dynamic, inseparable, duo.
END