Comment porn, now without comment!
This was written for Petra and posted as comment porn when she was having a bad day in October. Due to the locked nature of the post, few people have seen it, but honesty compels. It is the definition of porn without plot, and at one point, I used a euphemism that still embarrasses me. Why yes, I am using the most horrifying icon possible!
In the shower, Dick winces. "I'm sorry, I really wish Alfred had been here for that." He waves at the scar on Bruce's forearm. "My needlework just isn't as tidy."
Bruce scrubs suds into his hair and tips back his head to rinse. "It's fine. Hasn't given me any problems."
Dick opens his mouth to the water and spits it out, faintly tinged red. "Good. Good. It just must be... a little hard to explain." He prods the his split lip with his tongue in a masochistic reflex and then stops himself.
Bruce laughs, and then adopts a lazy relaxed stance and the voice coming out makes Dick get shampoo in his eyes. "I was just a little careless with a ski-lift, but the week was excellent until then. Do you ski, sweet-heart?"
Dick sticks his head underwater to clear the soap from his eyes. Bruce is stiffly stretching his neck to the right under the hot stream, and Dick makes a note that the whip-lash is still bothering him. He grins at Bruce and coos, "Wow, you're so athletic! And muscled! Where did you get this one Bruce?" The wave he makes at Bruce's belly doesn't really point at any scar in particular. Bruce has too many.
Bruce has one hand behind his neck, trying to massage out the muscle strain, and the other one goes to a scar over his hip. Dick swallows. Bruce got that scar blocking a blow from Two-Face. He went down, and Dick had to finish it. "I'm afraid my love for equestrian sports outstrips my ability, but you don't really want to hear about this, do you?"
"Uh," says Dick, because that smile is fairly incapacitating. He shakes his head and water flies off. He knows what to say to get this back on track, but Bruce has a little twist in his mouth, like Batman before he tells Two-Face why his plan isn't going to work. Dick realizes he's taken a step closer. "So, uh. I bet this one's got a good story." He stops and gets his voice right again. "Wow, it's so big!" He gives Bruce a grin to show him that the double entendre was intended.
"Darling," says Bruce silkily, "are you sure you want to hear this? It's a bit gory."
"Did it hurt a lot?" Dick pulls Bruce's hand away from his neck and digs his thumb in. Bruce turns to catch the hot water on the sore muscle, and hangs his head briefly to stretch it.
He looks back up. "I wouldn't know, I was on the most delightful drugs, but it certainly looked horrifying. Let me tell you, never try to demonstrate a rugby manoeuvrer using a crystal punch bowl."
Bruce got that scar when the Batmobile's steering column hit him in the stomach, transferring the force of Solomon Grundy. Dick hadn't realized he was hurt until they got back to the cave.
Dick reaches around to Bruce's back, where he knows one of Catwoman's claw marks is. "Tell me about this one."
He's not using the debutante voice, but Bruce looks at him anyway, and says, "I hope it's not shocking if I confess that sometimes, I like to play rough."
The water in the showers is never going to run cold; they have a reservoir the size of the swimming pool it was supposedly built to heat. Bruce can tell all the lies he wants, but naked like this, some truths are inescapable.
Dick steps away, and settles on his haunches. He brushes his thumb against Bruce's kneecap where a flung hubcap nearly crippled him. A muscle in Bruce's thigh twitches, and Dick smiles. "And this?"
"Let me tell you, people talk about the Spanish Steps, but they never tell you how treacherous they are."
"Maybe it needs someone to kiss it and make it better." Dick brushes his thumb against Bruce's kneecap again, and waits for Bruce to tell him no.
"It's an experiment that hasn't been-- ah!" says Bruce, when Dick licks his kneecap. "Dick!" The playboy is forgotten and Bruce stumbles, grabs for Dick, finds him too low, out of reach and spreads his legs to steady himself.
Dick finds the ridge of scar with his tongue, and the knob of Bruce's kneecap. He follows his whimsy and ends up bent around Bruce's leg, trying to lick in the crease of his knee. There's still a hint of salt there.
Bruce trembles. "I... " he says, and then fumbles for Bruce Wayne's bedroom voice. "I didn't know that kind of... of thing turned you on."
Dick can't tell if he's pretending or if it's just Bruce being an asshole at the least appropriate time, so he stands. Bruce is looking a little wild eyed, but he catches Dick's arms readily, and says, "Dick, I didn't..."
"I never gave you any scars," says Dick. That doesn't make sense even to him, but Bruce comes at him, Dick thinks in a shove and then not, because Bruce's mouth reminds him that his own is still bloody and his lip is split and Bruce is so slick he can't get any purchase. For a moment he thinks they're going to fall and doesn't care because gravity and skin and muscle, but then they hit a wall and roll and bounce a little before coming to a stop.
He feels like tearing at Bruce, pushing at him, getting all of him, finally getting inside of him where Bruce can't keep him out. He's trying to take, take with his hands on Bruce's scars, with his mouth on Bruce, everything that Bruce never gave him, but Bruce is taking it all right back, using fingernails to compensate for lack of friction, using his teeth. Somehow Bruce's voice, saying, "Dick!" is just one more thing and he doesn't know if he can bear to say Bruce's name, or if he'll lose too much of himself.
But when he comes he can't stop himself, or somehow, it just seems like the only thing to say, clinging to Bruce for balance while Bruce slides against him, panting, holding him up, holding them both up. Or maybe he's holding Bruce up, it's hard to tell now, with Bruce mouthing at his ear as he spends against his belly.
Dick manages not to say, "at least we're already in the shower," or anything else inane and juvenile. Bruce pulls his weight off Dick and steps back into the water stream. Dick feels cold and wet and foolish, for a second before Bruce says, "Can you rub my neck again? It's stiffening."
Dick joins him under the hot spray, and rests his forehead on Bruce's vetebrae prominence. He works his thumb under Bruce's hairline at the back of his neck, and Bruce moans, "ah, yes."
On a completely different note! Feminism, class and Firefly
In the shower, Dick winces. "I'm sorry, I really wish Alfred had been here for that." He waves at the scar on Bruce's forearm. "My needlework just isn't as tidy."
Bruce scrubs suds into his hair and tips back his head to rinse. "It's fine. Hasn't given me any problems."
Dick opens his mouth to the water and spits it out, faintly tinged red. "Good. Good. It just must be... a little hard to explain." He prods the his split lip with his tongue in a masochistic reflex and then stops himself.
Bruce laughs, and then adopts a lazy relaxed stance and the voice coming out makes Dick get shampoo in his eyes. "I was just a little careless with a ski-lift, but the week was excellent until then. Do you ski, sweet-heart?"
Dick sticks his head underwater to clear the soap from his eyes. Bruce is stiffly stretching his neck to the right under the hot stream, and Dick makes a note that the whip-lash is still bothering him. He grins at Bruce and coos, "Wow, you're so athletic! And muscled! Where did you get this one Bruce?" The wave he makes at Bruce's belly doesn't really point at any scar in particular. Bruce has too many.
Bruce has one hand behind his neck, trying to massage out the muscle strain, and the other one goes to a scar over his hip. Dick swallows. Bruce got that scar blocking a blow from Two-Face. He went down, and Dick had to finish it. "I'm afraid my love for equestrian sports outstrips my ability, but you don't really want to hear about this, do you?"
"Uh," says Dick, because that smile is fairly incapacitating. He shakes his head and water flies off. He knows what to say to get this back on track, but Bruce has a little twist in his mouth, like Batman before he tells Two-Face why his plan isn't going to work. Dick realizes he's taken a step closer. "So, uh. I bet this one's got a good story." He stops and gets his voice right again. "Wow, it's so big!" He gives Bruce a grin to show him that the double entendre was intended.
"Darling," says Bruce silkily, "are you sure you want to hear this? It's a bit gory."
"Did it hurt a lot?" Dick pulls Bruce's hand away from his neck and digs his thumb in. Bruce turns to catch the hot water on the sore muscle, and hangs his head briefly to stretch it.
He looks back up. "I wouldn't know, I was on the most delightful drugs, but it certainly looked horrifying. Let me tell you, never try to demonstrate a rugby manoeuvrer using a crystal punch bowl."
Bruce got that scar when the Batmobile's steering column hit him in the stomach, transferring the force of Solomon Grundy. Dick hadn't realized he was hurt until they got back to the cave.
Dick reaches around to Bruce's back, where he knows one of Catwoman's claw marks is. "Tell me about this one."
He's not using the debutante voice, but Bruce looks at him anyway, and says, "I hope it's not shocking if I confess that sometimes, I like to play rough."
The water in the showers is never going to run cold; they have a reservoir the size of the swimming pool it was supposedly built to heat. Bruce can tell all the lies he wants, but naked like this, some truths are inescapable.
Dick steps away, and settles on his haunches. He brushes his thumb against Bruce's kneecap where a flung hubcap nearly crippled him. A muscle in Bruce's thigh twitches, and Dick smiles. "And this?"
"Let me tell you, people talk about the Spanish Steps, but they never tell you how treacherous they are."
"Maybe it needs someone to kiss it and make it better." Dick brushes his thumb against Bruce's kneecap again, and waits for Bruce to tell him no.
"It's an experiment that hasn't been-- ah!" says Bruce, when Dick licks his kneecap. "Dick!" The playboy is forgotten and Bruce stumbles, grabs for Dick, finds him too low, out of reach and spreads his legs to steady himself.
Dick finds the ridge of scar with his tongue, and the knob of Bruce's kneecap. He follows his whimsy and ends up bent around Bruce's leg, trying to lick in the crease of his knee. There's still a hint of salt there.
Bruce trembles. "I... " he says, and then fumbles for Bruce Wayne's bedroom voice. "I didn't know that kind of... of thing turned you on."
Dick can't tell if he's pretending or if it's just Bruce being an asshole at the least appropriate time, so he stands. Bruce is looking a little wild eyed, but he catches Dick's arms readily, and says, "Dick, I didn't..."
"I never gave you any scars," says Dick. That doesn't make sense even to him, but Bruce comes at him, Dick thinks in a shove and then not, because Bruce's mouth reminds him that his own is still bloody and his lip is split and Bruce is so slick he can't get any purchase. For a moment he thinks they're going to fall and doesn't care because gravity and skin and muscle, but then they hit a wall and roll and bounce a little before coming to a stop.
He feels like tearing at Bruce, pushing at him, getting all of him, finally getting inside of him where Bruce can't keep him out. He's trying to take, take with his hands on Bruce's scars, with his mouth on Bruce, everything that Bruce never gave him, but Bruce is taking it all right back, using fingernails to compensate for lack of friction, using his teeth. Somehow Bruce's voice, saying, "Dick!" is just one more thing and he doesn't know if he can bear to say Bruce's name, or if he'll lose too much of himself.
But when he comes he can't stop himself, or somehow, it just seems like the only thing to say, clinging to Bruce for balance while Bruce slides against him, panting, holding him up, holding them both up. Or maybe he's holding Bruce up, it's hard to tell now, with Bruce mouthing at his ear as he spends against his belly.
Dick manages not to say, "at least we're already in the shower," or anything else inane and juvenile. Bruce pulls his weight off Dick and steps back into the water stream. Dick feels cold and wet and foolish, for a second before Bruce says, "Can you rub my neck again? It's stiffening."
Dick joins him under the hot spray, and rests his forehead on Bruce's vetebrae prominence. He works his thumb under Bruce's hairline at the back of his neck, and Bruce moans, "ah, yes."
On a completely different note! Feminism, class and Firefly