i do want to do it || young justice, dick/zatanna, pg-13
A/N: I got really really emotional and what do?
"Zatanna, wha-"
His words died on his tongue, interrupted by a whiplash " dnib mih!". He had roughly three seconds before being knocked deep into his mattress. There were precious few situations that would come calling at his door at one a.m., so his list of suspects was expectantly short, and getting shorter. Zatanna's got The Look on. He was too busy being upset to really react, though, visibly distressed by the stringing sounds of his Superman sheets tearing themselves to pieces. He's probably more distressed by sounds of linen shredding than the tendrils of material snaking up his arms and legs. After all, those sheets were vintage. (And it wasn't like he hadn't been tied up before. The Boy Hostage was an inherited title Jason'd have to learn to live with.)
She moved leisurely to the bed, eyes blue-black and so very hungry. Dick swallowed, and the whiskwhisk of his bonds tightening around his biceps dimmed beneath the quickening pulse in his ears. He was watching her with rapt attention as she sat primly on the edge, legs swinging uncertainly.
"'Tanna," Dick began in a placating voice. Her eyes narrowed, so her lashes brushed her cheek. A strip of cloth lashed over his mouth. Okay. So, Zatanna wasn't in the mood for apologies. His heart fluttered unevenly in his chest.
"Dick..." Zatanna crawled closer to his head, her knees and hands leaving little tracks in his mattress. In her pink striped pajama bottoms and her simple lacy tank top, she looked so adorable, with a lock of ebony hair falling over her shoulder. Lady on the street, Dick thought dully as he tested the binds on his wrists, but a freak in the bed. She swung a leg over his chest, the rest of her hair falling to frame her face. Her gaze never wavered from his.
Rrrip! Somewhere over his head, a few threads went taut, frayed, and snapped. He flexed again, breaking a few more strings. He could break free. If he wanted.
"I know we haven't," Zatanna said slowly, tapping his pectoral with a thoughtful finger. Whatever flirty innuendo Dick had primed and ready was silenced with her sincerity. He shifted slightly, jostling her in a sort of encouraging, sort of wary way. "and... I know you said this was demeaning..." Her eyes cut away from his as pink rushed her cheeks. She inhaled. "But it isn't if I want to."
Dick huffed a muffled sigh against his gag, frowning at her.
"And I do want to," Zatanna looked at him intensely. It was like getting punched in the gut by a freight train. "You just have to let me do it."
Dick let out a strangled sound, squirming beneath her. He didn't mean to, but how was he supposed to react to this? They hadn't done it. Didn't plan on it. Well, he hadn't anyway.
His thrashing accidentally did something for Zatanna, though. She rode his bucking, a soft noise stuttering past her lips. Her eyelids slid closed and her red mouth slackened to a perfect "o" and she ground down on his stomach, rubbing against his abs.
It was one of the hottest things Dick had seen in his whole life.
Their wide eyes met, stricken by the tension forming hard and fast between them (or under them, in Zatanna's case). Dick panted raggedly into his gag, biting furiously at the cloth. She was blushing harder now, one hand digging into the mattress beside his head for support. They froze, staring at each other. A few suffocating seconds slithered past. Then, simultaneously, they smiled at each other.
Just like that, it seemed like they knew what they were doing.
She raised herself off of him. And then, slowly, she began backing down the length of his body, the tips of her hair brushing his overheated skin. She stopped frequently to admire the body Nightwing's job demanded. She nuzzled his abs. She used her hands to follow the jut of his hipbone. And all he could do was writhe and buck and try to steal more of her touch. Bless her attention to personal grooming; her manicured nails were sending trills of lightning prickling across his skin. And that shade of blue looked good on her.
And he was wearing thin sleep pants. Can you spell T E N T?
Zatanna settled onto his thighs, slipping her fingers beneath the band of his pants, her eyes widening as she began pulling the fabric down. She glanced at Dick one last time, asking permission.
He nodded, lifting his hips helpfully.
He wanted to do it too.