[DC] Tale of the City
Title: Tale of the City
Pairing: Bruce/Dick
Rating: R
Summary: You know what they say about Batman and Nightwing.
Notes: porn battle, Bruce/Dick, rumors, view.
If I know Batman? Course I know Batman. In my bizness it’s, watchacallit, inevitable. Yeah, sure, you’ll find peeps who’ll tell you otherwise. Don’t believe them. There’s no money to be made in believing those lies. They’re jus’ tryin’ to reassure themselves. Or else they want you to get caught.
Anyway, hear my advice: don’t work with a crew that tells you there’s no Bat. Damn lies.
Robin, now he’s a myth. Only Robin I ever saw was a girl, for starters, and now she’s Batgirl. ‘m guessing the whole urban legend thing didn’t fly too well - and hell, who can blame ‘em. You hear how you talk ‘bout the costume? Panties, are you fucking kiddin’ me? You see one of ‘em Bats going out and fightin’ crime in motherfuckin’ panties, givin’ you a nice little show as they’re kicking your ass?
She wasn’t wearin’ no motherfuckin’ panties, will ya stop with that?
Nah, way I see it, Robin’s jus’ the Gotham twist on the tale. Some genius sleazeball was tearing his hair out over cash, and he gets the idea, hey, Batgirl’s bringin’ in plenty of payin’ costumers, but maybe we could give them somethin’ showin’ a bit more skin? So he asks a girl to throw together something a bit different, he’s got this pixie idea in mind, and he sends her on stage with her friend in the Batsuit. And whaddaya know, hoopla, instant classic.
Of course I’m talking about a strip joint! Where the hell else are you going to find, to find creativity in this goddamn town.
Don’t you talk like that about them strippers, shitface, or I’ll break your face in.
Got no goddamn clue why the Bats would think that was a, a viable idea on the streets. Oh come on, y’know what I mean. Sure I think Robin was made up. It’s like Batgirl’s go-go boots. Famous, ain’t they? Every busybody knows about Batgirl’s yellow boots. Well, I saw Batgirl up close and personal, and I can tell ya, girl’s wearin’ sensible, kick-in-face-break-your-teeth things.
Aw, it’s a nice thought, no denyin’. But if you get toe-to-toe with the Batgirl, well, you better have your mind out of the gutter, is all I’m sayin’.
There’s also the one in the black costume, I hear she was off for a while, I hear she’s back. Dunno if I believe that. But I believe in her, and that’s enough for me. Saw her once. Jus’ once, and she wasn’t there for me - I was an innocent bystander real and true - but God is my witness I’ll never forget it. Jeezus. My piece of advice, you ever see a chick, ‘bout this high, dropping from on high with a Batcape, you run like hell, cause she’s about to open a can of ass-whupping the likes of which you haven’t even ever imagined.
Again with Robin? Jeebus, you need to let go of that shit. I told you, there ain’t no motherfuckin’ costume called Robin.
There’s one called Nightwing, though. You ever heard of that one? Yeah, that’s right, it was the one they got over in the ‘Haven. Back when there still was a ‘Haven, that is.
Anyways, he was gone too, what with the Haven and then I think New York, like they need Bats in downtown Manhattan, whatever, I’m not judging but you’d think they might want to make sure Gotham’s safe for the kids before they go sharing the love, anyways. Anyway so now he’s in the old coop again. I ain’t breaking any secret when I say that he was never really off as far as that goes, and whenever the Bat said jump…
You know what they say about Batman and Nightwing.
Well y’know, here I am talkin’, and my throat’s parchin’ up.
Swell. Okay, I was saying.
Batman and Nightwing. All true.
I know, I saw them once. It was one night, over by the docks - back before Davey’s got closed up because he couldn’t pay off the health inspector. And not long after he’d rebuilt, what with the quake and No Man’s Land, too. Damn shame, that we couldn’t save the joint.
There I was, mindin’ my own bizness. I don’t do no work by the docks. Dealing with three kinds of mafia has always seemed like a pain, if you want my opinion, plenty of knife-edge diplomacy to go around, and it only went downhill when Croc got into town.
They call me old-timer, but the truth, there’s plenty of guys still kickin’ who started working before Croc. They just forgot, is all. I don’t. I ain’t never got closer to Croc than I had to. It never pays, working for the freaks. I know he calls himself an entrepreneur, but have you seen him? Now I don’t usually recommend judgin’ on looks, but you gotta make an exception here. Guy looks like a sewer gator.
At the time I was in the employment of Penguin, another fine entrepreneur of our mother city. Penguin had his fingers in every pie, still has from what I hear, and it could get a little funny when the accountant called up to know why you hadn’t been workin’ all your days when in fact of course you had been, but you’d just been working for Mister Penguin’s interests on the side of the law. We always found ways to make it look nice on the pay slip, though.
Don’t give me that look. I’m not shitting you. We had regular pay slips, and regular working contracts. Penguin didn’t want to be caught out on papertrack details, y’know? So we all had our regular names with jobs, and when someone didn’t pay their taxes Mister Cobblepot would very properly make a garnishment. I was a storeman, and it wasn’t just on paper, too; I was moving crates just like my old dad did before he passed.
Allegedly, there was bizness supposed to go down. Allegedly. Wouldn’t know ‘bout that, can’t help you there.
I was making my way back to downtown proper, thinking I’d catch the subway and make it back before my girl got home, when there was a noise in the alley where I had ducked in when the cops’ siren started. There was this recess in the walls, behind a pile of empty crates, where I could just about fold on myself and wait until the whole shebang had settled down. I wasn’t too anxious to meet the cops in person. The mayor had been riding the commish pretty hard, and the pigs would’ve been all too happy to add my name to their quota, bump it up a bit.
There were noises of tires screeching, people shouting and doors slamming, so I was guessing it was gonna be a while before I could get the hell out of there. Plus it reeked, in that damn little alley, all the smell of old piss and rank sewers. It was late May or June, one of those warm months that stews smells together, and by the docks it makes everything sticky with an odour of gutted fish, faint like a ghost clinging to your nostrils.
I was reeking pretty bad myself, what with Davey’s not being the Gotham Ritz or anything, and I’d helped that moron Arnie stagger out and empty his stomach on the asphalt. He’d missed my shoes by half an inch. Asshole. Got himself killed three months later, too, another poor fool who thought Scarface was gonna make him a good turn.
Still I didn’t move. Lila was working shifts six nights a week, and she had a second job come morning as a cashier on another three of these days, so you can imagine I didn’t wanna even have to think about getting myself into trouble.
So here I was, hanging on to the hope that the pigs would round up everyone they wanted and leave the rest of us alone and I could go home, when I heard a weird noise coming from inside the alley.
It didn’t sound like a rat, and it wasn’t someone running. I risked an eye out - barely moved, moving crates every day made my back ache something awful, so I just turned my head to the other side, the one I hadn’t been paying attention to.
Mary Mother of God, didn’t that turn out to save my skin.
It was Nightwing, striding like a tiger in a cage. He’d jumped down from, I guess from the sky or the rickety stairs. The Bat was right behind him, swooping down, and I’m not ashamed to say I almost wet my pants. He didn’t make any noise, if I hadn’t seen him come down I wouldn’t ever have known he was there, it was eerie.
“Nightwing,” Batman said, in that rumbling voice. No wonder there are guys who think he’s a demon. A literal demon, hellfire and brimstone.
Most guys, that voice is enough to make them wish they were still little boys behind their momma’s skirts, but Nightwing, well, he’s made of different stuff. Wouldn’t say sterner - that’s what the Bat is for - but…
You ever see Nightwing, you’ll see what I mean. More than a couple guys go all pensive and googly-eyed over that one. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, cape or no cape. And the women. All crazy about him. Little old ladies, they find him a very nice, very polite young man, and they wouldn’t mind their grand-daughter bringing him home. I know, I had a neighbour who saw him, once. She baked him cookies. No kiddin’. Cookies. So all that to say, everyone knows Nightwing’s something else.
Gotta be, working with Batman and all.
So Nightwing, he just whipped around. Came at Batman like he was going to hit him. Batman didn’t move an inch, stood there with his cape falling into folds all around him, white lenses staring Nightwing down.
“What?” Nightwing snapped. “What do you want from me, now?”
He hovered there for a second, holding Batman’s gaze, but it was like holding still was too much of an effort, and he was back to pacing. I say pacing, there was more movement to that. Pacing’s predictable, and what Nightwing did, I could feel the frustration radiating from him, but at any time he might leap onto a garbage bin or run up the wall into a somersault, just to make off with some of that wild energy.
There was an empty crate, torn halfway. Nightwing stopped pacing, eyed it, and threw a kick that tore it apart, sending splinters flying.
“What?” he repeated, when Batman still didn’t say anything.
“That was reckless.”
Nightwing’s whole body stiffened, like he’d just been hit, or like he was about to launch an attack, and then relaxed, abruptly. He shook his head. “You know what? No, it wasn’t. I had O in my ear, you were on your way, I knew what I was doing. Not to mention that it turned out fine.”
He turned again, and I could catch the corner of his smile at Batman.
The darkness of Batman’s cape shifted. “You could’ve been hurt.” The Bat’s voice was-neutral. Not as forbidding as before. Nightwing’s grin was doing its job, even on the Bat.
“I could,” he agreed. “Like I could be hurt every night when I put on the costume. Like you could. Every night we come out and defy death, and sometimes that means we get hurt. I didn’t; I did what we’d planned, and I was fine.”
“You went in there without back-up.”
I don’t know how my brain was still working, but I remember thinking, that was weak. I mean, Nightwing got to have his own city to protect, didn’t he? Not like he was likely to need much back-up. It seemed to me like the Bat was fretting, but I killed that train of thought quick. Bats: what did I know?
Nightwing let out a huff. “We both know that’s not the issue here.”
A silence, and Batman made to move, shadows on shadows, the pale skin of his lower face turning to the side.
“Don’t.” Nightwing’s voice rang clear, and Batman froze. “Don’t shut me out.” He took another step, and a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I-I overstepped my boundaries.” The language sounded oddly formal, like another mask, something he’d borrowed from someone else that he wasn’t entirely natural with. “It was my fault, I’m sorry.”
The alley was so silent I held my breath, too scared that they’d hear me if I didn’t.
Nightwing’s face was downcast when he stopped talking, like he couldn’t bear looking Batman straight on. There was a pause, and some of the shadows seemed to become more solid as Batman stepped closer.
“No. It wasn’t,” he said. It was a growl, but soft, like a tiger. Not entirely unlike those he’d do in the face of someone he’s shaking for information. Heavy with heat and threats, in a way.
Nightwing jumped when Batman put his hand on Nightwing’s shoulder, looking up. He made a noise that wasn’t quite a gasp, more like something under his breath, and Batman’s hand crept up his shoulder, until it was resting on the crook between the neck and the shoulder.
They stared at each other for moments that stretched out forever, and then the Bat moved and they were kissing.
Like they were going for the title, fierce and with noises and. Like they were starved for it, like they’d bin starved for it for who knows how long.
Batman’s cape was falling and moving around them like it was trying to swallow Nightwing whole, he was leaning Nightwing back, gauntlet knotted in the guy’s hair, and Nightwing had his arms around Batman’s head and he was moaning fit to wake up the whole street, but of course they thought there wasn’t no-one there, right? He swung one leg around Batman’s waist, lemme tell you, that guy doesn’t just use how flexible he is to kick our asses, and Batman groaned.
By this time I was starting to come back to myself and I thought with horror they might go at it right there. Cause I wouldn’t do the deed in a Gotham back alley, but how the hell should I know how far these guys would go? They’re guys who fight crime in skin tight costumes, they’re not like you and I.
“God, Batman,” Nightwing laughed, a little breathless. Out of breath, Nightwing, from a kiss. “I thought you’d never-we’d never-again-”
“No,” Batman said, and he pushed Nightwing back against the wall and dropped to his knees. Nightwing’s head fell back against the wall with a groan.
There are so many guys out there who’d never believe me if I said the great big bad Batman does suck cock as a hobby, I remember thinking. Mind, I don’t claim to bein’ particularly rat’nal by this point.
And then he gave him a blowjob, okay? I was focusing on being really quiet and blocking as much as I could. Not that easy, by the way, ‘cause Nightwing’s a talker. It was like a cable movie, heavy breathing and babbling and begging - whole lot more of it than your average skin flick, if you wanna know - but at the same time it was-fuck, it was intimate. Those JLX pornos? They miss the target by so long, they ain’t even on the same planet.
And while Nightwing was writhing and pleading basic’ly his eternal soul to the Batman, or just about, Batman was being silent and. Damn skilled, from the sound of it. Even taking into account how needy Nightwing sounded. The Batman-and-Robin pornos do get that part right, actually.
Then they finally left, after some more speaking I wasn’t in any state to even start listening about, and then after waiting yet some more, I finally got the hell out of that hellhole and skedaddled all the way back home. I spent the next two weeks looking over my shoulder, man. Thought any time now the Bat would come after me, and make me disappear for witnessing private time with his boyfriend. Not-yet boyfriend. Lover, more like.
Cause you know, they say all these things about the Bat. That he don’t kill. All I say is, all we know is bodies haven’t been found yet.
So why’m I takin’ the chance and tellin’ you this? Hell. I figure, sometimes it’s good to remember, the Batman and the others, they’re not just myths, they’re not demons, and they’re not these lofty, bright superheroes like Superman and Green Lantern. They’re human.
That means when they come after you, you know it’s gonna hurt.
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comments there.
Pairing: Bruce/Dick
Rating: R
Summary: You know what they say about Batman and Nightwing.
Notes: porn battle, Bruce/Dick, rumors, view.
If I know Batman? Course I know Batman. In my bizness it’s, watchacallit, inevitable. Yeah, sure, you’ll find peeps who’ll tell you otherwise. Don’t believe them. There’s no money to be made in believing those lies. They’re jus’ tryin’ to reassure themselves. Or else they want you to get caught.
Anyway, hear my advice: don’t work with a crew that tells you there’s no Bat. Damn lies.
Robin, now he’s a myth. Only Robin I ever saw was a girl, for starters, and now she’s Batgirl. ‘m guessing the whole urban legend thing didn’t fly too well - and hell, who can blame ‘em. You hear how you talk ‘bout the costume? Panties, are you fucking kiddin’ me? You see one of ‘em Bats going out and fightin’ crime in motherfuckin’ panties, givin’ you a nice little show as they’re kicking your ass?
She wasn’t wearin’ no motherfuckin’ panties, will ya stop with that?
Nah, way I see it, Robin’s jus’ the Gotham twist on the tale. Some genius sleazeball was tearing his hair out over cash, and he gets the idea, hey, Batgirl’s bringin’ in plenty of payin’ costumers, but maybe we could give them somethin’ showin’ a bit more skin? So he asks a girl to throw together something a bit different, he’s got this pixie idea in mind, and he sends her on stage with her friend in the Batsuit. And whaddaya know, hoopla, instant classic.
Of course I’m talking about a strip joint! Where the hell else are you going to find, to find creativity in this goddamn town.
Don’t you talk like that about them strippers, shitface, or I’ll break your face in.
Got no goddamn clue why the Bats would think that was a, a viable idea on the streets. Oh come on, y’know what I mean. Sure I think Robin was made up. It’s like Batgirl’s go-go boots. Famous, ain’t they? Every busybody knows about Batgirl’s yellow boots. Well, I saw Batgirl up close and personal, and I can tell ya, girl’s wearin’ sensible, kick-in-face-break-your-teeth things.
Aw, it’s a nice thought, no denyin’. But if you get toe-to-toe with the Batgirl, well, you better have your mind out of the gutter, is all I’m sayin’.
There’s also the one in the black costume, I hear she was off for a while, I hear she’s back. Dunno if I believe that. But I believe in her, and that’s enough for me. Saw her once. Jus’ once, and she wasn’t there for me - I was an innocent bystander real and true - but God is my witness I’ll never forget it. Jeezus. My piece of advice, you ever see a chick, ‘bout this high, dropping from on high with a Batcape, you run like hell, cause she’s about to open a can of ass-whupping the likes of which you haven’t even ever imagined.
Again with Robin? Jeebus, you need to let go of that shit. I told you, there ain’t no motherfuckin’ costume called Robin.
There’s one called Nightwing, though. You ever heard of that one? Yeah, that’s right, it was the one they got over in the ‘Haven. Back when there still was a ‘Haven, that is.
Anyways, he was gone too, what with the Haven and then I think New York, like they need Bats in downtown Manhattan, whatever, I’m not judging but you’d think they might want to make sure Gotham’s safe for the kids before they go sharing the love, anyways. Anyway so now he’s in the old coop again. I ain’t breaking any secret when I say that he was never really off as far as that goes, and whenever the Bat said jump…
You know what they say about Batman and Nightwing.
Well y’know, here I am talkin’, and my throat’s parchin’ up.
Swell. Okay, I was saying.
Batman and Nightwing. All true.
I know, I saw them once. It was one night, over by the docks - back before Davey’s got closed up because he couldn’t pay off the health inspector. And not long after he’d rebuilt, what with the quake and No Man’s Land, too. Damn shame, that we couldn’t save the joint.
There I was, mindin’ my own bizness. I don’t do no work by the docks. Dealing with three kinds of mafia has always seemed like a pain, if you want my opinion, plenty of knife-edge diplomacy to go around, and it only went downhill when Croc got into town.
They call me old-timer, but the truth, there’s plenty of guys still kickin’ who started working before Croc. They just forgot, is all. I don’t. I ain’t never got closer to Croc than I had to. It never pays, working for the freaks. I know he calls himself an entrepreneur, but have you seen him? Now I don’t usually recommend judgin’ on looks, but you gotta make an exception here. Guy looks like a sewer gator.
At the time I was in the employment of Penguin, another fine entrepreneur of our mother city. Penguin had his fingers in every pie, still has from what I hear, and it could get a little funny when the accountant called up to know why you hadn’t been workin’ all your days when in fact of course you had been, but you’d just been working for Mister Penguin’s interests on the side of the law. We always found ways to make it look nice on the pay slip, though.
Don’t give me that look. I’m not shitting you. We had regular pay slips, and regular working contracts. Penguin didn’t want to be caught out on papertrack details, y’know? So we all had our regular names with jobs, and when someone didn’t pay their taxes Mister Cobblepot would very properly make a garnishment. I was a storeman, and it wasn’t just on paper, too; I was moving crates just like my old dad did before he passed.
Allegedly, there was bizness supposed to go down. Allegedly. Wouldn’t know ‘bout that, can’t help you there.
I was making my way back to downtown proper, thinking I’d catch the subway and make it back before my girl got home, when there was a noise in the alley where I had ducked in when the cops’ siren started. There was this recess in the walls, behind a pile of empty crates, where I could just about fold on myself and wait until the whole shebang had settled down. I wasn’t too anxious to meet the cops in person. The mayor had been riding the commish pretty hard, and the pigs would’ve been all too happy to add my name to their quota, bump it up a bit.
There were noises of tires screeching, people shouting and doors slamming, so I was guessing it was gonna be a while before I could get the hell out of there. Plus it reeked, in that damn little alley, all the smell of old piss and rank sewers. It was late May or June, one of those warm months that stews smells together, and by the docks it makes everything sticky with an odour of gutted fish, faint like a ghost clinging to your nostrils.
I was reeking pretty bad myself, what with Davey’s not being the Gotham Ritz or anything, and I’d helped that moron Arnie stagger out and empty his stomach on the asphalt. He’d missed my shoes by half an inch. Asshole. Got himself killed three months later, too, another poor fool who thought Scarface was gonna make him a good turn.
Still I didn’t move. Lila was working shifts six nights a week, and she had a second job come morning as a cashier on another three of these days, so you can imagine I didn’t wanna even have to think about getting myself into trouble.
So here I was, hanging on to the hope that the pigs would round up everyone they wanted and leave the rest of us alone and I could go home, when I heard a weird noise coming from inside the alley.
It didn’t sound like a rat, and it wasn’t someone running. I risked an eye out - barely moved, moving crates every day made my back ache something awful, so I just turned my head to the other side, the one I hadn’t been paying attention to.
Mary Mother of God, didn’t that turn out to save my skin.
It was Nightwing, striding like a tiger in a cage. He’d jumped down from, I guess from the sky or the rickety stairs. The Bat was right behind him, swooping down, and I’m not ashamed to say I almost wet my pants. He didn’t make any noise, if I hadn’t seen him come down I wouldn’t ever have known he was there, it was eerie.
“Nightwing,” Batman said, in that rumbling voice. No wonder there are guys who think he’s a demon. A literal demon, hellfire and brimstone.
Most guys, that voice is enough to make them wish they were still little boys behind their momma’s skirts, but Nightwing, well, he’s made of different stuff. Wouldn’t say sterner - that’s what the Bat is for - but…
You ever see Nightwing, you’ll see what I mean. More than a couple guys go all pensive and googly-eyed over that one. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, cape or no cape. And the women. All crazy about him. Little old ladies, they find him a very nice, very polite young man, and they wouldn’t mind their grand-daughter bringing him home. I know, I had a neighbour who saw him, once. She baked him cookies. No kiddin’. Cookies. So all that to say, everyone knows Nightwing’s something else.
Gotta be, working with Batman and all.
So Nightwing, he just whipped around. Came at Batman like he was going to hit him. Batman didn’t move an inch, stood there with his cape falling into folds all around him, white lenses staring Nightwing down.
“What?” Nightwing snapped. “What do you want from me, now?”
He hovered there for a second, holding Batman’s gaze, but it was like holding still was too much of an effort, and he was back to pacing. I say pacing, there was more movement to that. Pacing’s predictable, and what Nightwing did, I could feel the frustration radiating from him, but at any time he might leap onto a garbage bin or run up the wall into a somersault, just to make off with some of that wild energy.
There was an empty crate, torn halfway. Nightwing stopped pacing, eyed it, and threw a kick that tore it apart, sending splinters flying.
“What?” he repeated, when Batman still didn’t say anything.
“That was reckless.”
Nightwing’s whole body stiffened, like he’d just been hit, or like he was about to launch an attack, and then relaxed, abruptly. He shook his head. “You know what? No, it wasn’t. I had O in my ear, you were on your way, I knew what I was doing. Not to mention that it turned out fine.”
He turned again, and I could catch the corner of his smile at Batman.
The darkness of Batman’s cape shifted. “You could’ve been hurt.” The Bat’s voice was-neutral. Not as forbidding as before. Nightwing’s grin was doing its job, even on the Bat.
“I could,” he agreed. “Like I could be hurt every night when I put on the costume. Like you could. Every night we come out and defy death, and sometimes that means we get hurt. I didn’t; I did what we’d planned, and I was fine.”
“You went in there without back-up.”
I don’t know how my brain was still working, but I remember thinking, that was weak. I mean, Nightwing got to have his own city to protect, didn’t he? Not like he was likely to need much back-up. It seemed to me like the Bat was fretting, but I killed that train of thought quick. Bats: what did I know?
Nightwing let out a huff. “We both know that’s not the issue here.”
A silence, and Batman made to move, shadows on shadows, the pale skin of his lower face turning to the side.
“Don’t.” Nightwing’s voice rang clear, and Batman froze. “Don’t shut me out.” He took another step, and a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I-I overstepped my boundaries.” The language sounded oddly formal, like another mask, something he’d borrowed from someone else that he wasn’t entirely natural with. “It was my fault, I’m sorry.”
The alley was so silent I held my breath, too scared that they’d hear me if I didn’t.
Nightwing’s face was downcast when he stopped talking, like he couldn’t bear looking Batman straight on. There was a pause, and some of the shadows seemed to become more solid as Batman stepped closer.
“No. It wasn’t,” he said. It was a growl, but soft, like a tiger. Not entirely unlike those he’d do in the face of someone he’s shaking for information. Heavy with heat and threats, in a way.
Nightwing jumped when Batman put his hand on Nightwing’s shoulder, looking up. He made a noise that wasn’t quite a gasp, more like something under his breath, and Batman’s hand crept up his shoulder, until it was resting on the crook between the neck and the shoulder.
They stared at each other for moments that stretched out forever, and then the Bat moved and they were kissing.
Like they were going for the title, fierce and with noises and. Like they were starved for it, like they’d bin starved for it for who knows how long.
Batman’s cape was falling and moving around them like it was trying to swallow Nightwing whole, he was leaning Nightwing back, gauntlet knotted in the guy’s hair, and Nightwing had his arms around Batman’s head and he was moaning fit to wake up the whole street, but of course they thought there wasn’t no-one there, right? He swung one leg around Batman’s waist, lemme tell you, that guy doesn’t just use how flexible he is to kick our asses, and Batman groaned.
By this time I was starting to come back to myself and I thought with horror they might go at it right there. Cause I wouldn’t do the deed in a Gotham back alley, but how the hell should I know how far these guys would go? They’re guys who fight crime in skin tight costumes, they’re not like you and I.
“God, Batman,” Nightwing laughed, a little breathless. Out of breath, Nightwing, from a kiss. “I thought you’d never-we’d never-again-”
“No,” Batman said, and he pushed Nightwing back against the wall and dropped to his knees. Nightwing’s head fell back against the wall with a groan.
There are so many guys out there who’d never believe me if I said the great big bad Batman does suck cock as a hobby, I remember thinking. Mind, I don’t claim to bein’ particularly rat’nal by this point.
And then he gave him a blowjob, okay? I was focusing on being really quiet and blocking as much as I could. Not that easy, by the way, ‘cause Nightwing’s a talker. It was like a cable movie, heavy breathing and babbling and begging - whole lot more of it than your average skin flick, if you wanna know - but at the same time it was-fuck, it was intimate. Those JLX pornos? They miss the target by so long, they ain’t even on the same planet.
And while Nightwing was writhing and pleading basic’ly his eternal soul to the Batman, or just about, Batman was being silent and. Damn skilled, from the sound of it. Even taking into account how needy Nightwing sounded. The Batman-and-Robin pornos do get that part right, actually.
Then they finally left, after some more speaking I wasn’t in any state to even start listening about, and then after waiting yet some more, I finally got the hell out of that hellhole and skedaddled all the way back home. I spent the next two weeks looking over my shoulder, man. Thought any time now the Bat would come after me, and make me disappear for witnessing private time with his boyfriend. Not-yet boyfriend. Lover, more like.
Cause you know, they say all these things about the Bat. That he don’t kill. All I say is, all we know is bodies haven’t been found yet.
So why’m I takin’ the chance and tellin’ you this? Hell. I figure, sometimes it’s good to remember, the Batman and the others, they’re not just myths, they’re not demons, and they’re not these lofty, bright superheroes like Superman and Green Lantern. They’re human.
That means when they come after you, you know it’s gonna hurt.
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