4 Ficlets: Various | DCU | Dick/Jason/Tim (more or less) | R - NC-17 | 1/1 each
More condensed headers! Aren't you surprised? :p
Fandom: DCU
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: The last of my dcu_freeforall claim prompts!! \O/ *parties* I'm so glad to get these done, you have no idea. *wibble* Also written for comment_fic.
Title | Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompts (as summary)
Their Rhythm | Dick/Jason/Tim | R | 582 w | comment_fic: the first night they were all together; DCU FFA: anxiety
The biggest surprise to all of them was that is wasn't Ivy's pollen that finally got them all together. It hadn't even been grief, or a long week of grueling patrols. To all of their surprise, it was a strange combination of boredom and the sharp tension that had developed between them since they all started working together as a real team after Bruce came back.
A slow night, a few games of rooftop tag, a leisurely trip back to the Cave, and they were all still thrumming with energy and the need to just get it out already. The suggestion of a little sparring came up as they all dressed from quick showers, and Jason had given his trademark smirk of approval, Tim rolling his eyes but assenting anyway.
Sparring, of course, had led to closer contact wrestling, each of them taking turns pinning the others and being pinned, laughter and mock battle cries echoing around the vast Cave. It was probably the easiest they'd gotten along since Jason had been welcomed back into the fold, neither Dick nor Tim expecting anything more antagonistic than an occasional sneer from the middle brother. Trust was really at an all time high for them, which probably made the rest of the night possible.
At some point, Jason managed to pin Tim under his larger bulk, the younger man's back to the mats and Jay snarking all the way about victory and submitting to his will, and Tim stilled beneath him, breaths coming heavier and blue eyes dark in the low light. It was like the air had suddenly gone electric, crackling with all that pent up energy, and even Dick's laughter had stopped, the eldest dropping down in a single controlled move to lean over Jason's back, settling between his legs.
"What do you think, Tim?" Dick said, voice low and even, not daring to betray the anxiety that it was clear they all felt in that one moment. "Time to welcome him back properly?"
Tim's hips rolled up into Jason's, and the middle brother gave a small gasp of surprise, his own eagerness quickly becoming apparent between them.
"I think it's time for a Jason sandwich," the youngest Bat answered, an eyebrow lifting over the barest quirk of a smile, and that was it, they were all gone to the moment.
Sweatpants and t-shirts were discarded in turn, hips grinding together, mouths finding each other as fingers carded through dark hair. Breaths loud in the Cave, groans and whimpers held barely in check as tongues lapped and teeth scraped over the skin of shoulders and necks and nipples and earlobes, and they were pressing together at long last, sinking into one another, Dick into Jason, Jason into Tim. It was so, so good, all that tension draining away, the three of them finding a rhythm, their rhythm, and with that final build up winding toward the inevitable, the anxiety fled and it was just them, just three Bats and this, this.
Shouts of release, connection, pleasure, and it was as if they'd become one, just for that brief moment in time as the world whited out around them.
Untangling themselves from each other afterward, clean sweat drying on their skin and their senses returning, breaths slowing, Jason was the first to laugh and break the silence between them. "Next time I vote for a Timmy sandwich."
Dick joined his laugh, Tim mock-scowling and delivering a swift kick to Jason's leg. "You wish."
Jason couldn't resist shutting him up with another kiss.
~*~*~
Crackpot Theories | Dick/Jason/Tim | R | 244 w | comment_fic: They find out about Robincest; DCU FFA: voyeur
"Are you shitting me!?" Jason scoffed as Tim turned the laptop to face him.
"It's true. They've got theories about all of us, and fiction and art to go with said theories."
Jay looked at the screen, scrutinizing the main banner and the recent posts on the main page of the online community. 'Robincest', it declared in bold lettering, with a picture of him, Tim, and Dick from a fight they'd had more than a year ago. The angle the pic had been taken from made it look like Dick and Tim were trying to rape him.
And that was just disturbing.
Because nothing they did had ever been anything less than consensual.
Scrolling down on the page, he looked at a few more posts, made by people with names like 'darthbatgirl', 'shiny_glor_chan', 'pervyficgirl', and 'saavikam77', obviously a bunch of clueless teenage girls with sex on the brain. And okay, so they had the three of them figured out, at least, how their personalities meshed in bed, what kind of kinky shit they'd been up to--almost as if they'd been there and seen just what had gone on--but there was one thing they had dead wrong.
Laughing despite himself at the revelation, he shoved the laptop back over to Tim. "Make sure to leak better closeups of me next time, will ya'? Some of these crackpots think I'm a redhead!"
Tim only huffed out a short laugh and went back to his infiltration of the online community.
~*~*~
Purpose in the Darkness Tim/Dick | NC-17 | 646 w | comment_fic: fantasty; DCU FFA: short pants
Tucked away in the deepest corner of the cave, Tim had to keep reminding himself that it was just fantasy. Nothing wrong with what he was doing, no more than what he did with a camera almost every night for years, seemingly on end. Though, that could be argued in hindsight, of course, but for the purposes of his activities tonight, it was probably better not to scrutinize that behavior pattern to closely. Here in the darkness, no one needed to know just how depraved he was, how much of a freaky little stalker he'd been and probably still was.
No, here it was just him and one of Dick's old uniforms. A bright yellow cape, a red tunic, and pair of green short pants, not that he could really make out the colors. He imagined he could feel those colors, though, as he ran the silk through his hands, the yellow slip-sliding away like sunshine and water, the red solid against his fingers, and the green like energy just barely held in check.
And it was this particular part of the uniform that held his interest the longest. It had truly been the closest to Dick, cradling him in his most intimate places, driving thugs and criminals to distraction with a flash of that color and the coiled muscles beneath it. Holding the garment up, he pressed his face into it, inhaling the scents that lingered even after a hundred washings. Acrobat's chalk, the sharpness of oil from a grappling gun, honest sweat, the faint iron tang of blood, and Dick's unique musk, a combination that went straight to Tim's head and to his groin immediately thereafter.
Splayed out on the floor in his little out-of-the-way corner, he shoved a hand into his own sweatpants and took hold of himself, imagining Dick working a case while he'd worn this uniform. All that sensory information had been just one component of a larger scene, probably one that Tim had witnessed. Maybe that time the Joker had made the trains inexplicably run on time. Maybe the case where Catwoman had ripped off the Gotham Museum of Modern Art. Or maybe even that time Poison Ivy had had him, bound with vines and stripped almost bare as she'd hit him with intoxicating spores.
Oh God, that image, that image! Dick struggling against the vines, the muscles of his legs working, straining, his hips pumping as he'd sought out release, to no avail, his chest flushed and heaving with his efforts. Oh, how Tim had wanted to leap from his perch and help him, help him... hold him still and peel off those short pants himself. That very night he'd gone home and worked himself until he'd come in his pajamas.
And what wonderful irony that here he was, same as then, but with Dick's uniform in one hand and his cock in the other, stroking, pulling, with Dick upstairs somewhere, that energetic form at rest, just waiting for Ivy to get the chance to take him prisoner again, drug him with those amazing spores, and--
With a strangled cry, Tim spilled over his hand and into his sweatpants, his own hips jerking and body tensing until the wave crested and fell, little tremors sweeping through him for a long, long time, and euphoria flooding every cell in his body. It was perfect release, exactly what he'd sought here in the darkness, so good, so perfectly good.
But it couldn't last, and as he slowly regained his breath and his senses afterward, he realized he was still clutching those green short pants tight enough for the elastic in the legs to leave a mark on his palm, and a feeling of remorse hit him squarely. How could he do this? How?
No. It was just fantasy. Just masturbation fodder. Nothing more. Even if he would have a hard time facing Dick tomorrow.
Just fantasy.
~*~*~
Taken Away | Jason/Tim | NC-17 | 497 w | comment_fic: bondage play; DCU FFA and 50_darkfics: rope | A/N: Follows Breaking and Of Trust and Zip-Strips
A few minutes in, and Tim's already warming up to this new addition to their repertoire. With the silk and bamboo rope--only the best available, of course--binding his wrists and forearms together behind his head, and led around to his knees, holding his legs up and spread, he feels completely open, open to Jason and anything he might want to do to him. The blindfold only seems to add to the effect, depriving him of a sense he's used to relying on, and even with the mild anxiety that comes with that, he thinks this might have to turn into a regular thing for them.
Where it once took zip-strips biting into his skin and a knife held to his throat to get him to let go, the rope is gentle and solid, letting him relax fully into the play. He doesn't feel the need to be manhandled and dominated this way, just to be restrained, held in place and taken away from all the crap he deals with on a daily basis. It's good. It's a good feeling.
But just as he's getting really comfortable in his position on the bed, he feels the mattress dip beside him with Jason's weight, a hand on the center of his chest, and he can't help a sound somewhere between a startled gasp and a purr of pleasure. He thinks maybe he's liking the ropes too much, as he realizes he was actually starting to drift off there for a second while Jay finished setting up whatever he had planned.
"Don't fall asleep on me, Baby Bird," Jason chuckles from somewhere above him, his hands smoothing over Tim's chest and belly, down over his inner thighs to his cheeks and back up the undersides of his legs.
Tim shivers a little at the contrast between the warm hands and the cold air that follows in their wake, and blinks behind the blindfold. "I'm awake," he insists, though there's not really much fire behind the statement.
"You will be," Jay shoots back, and with no warning there's a cool, slick finger resting against his entrance, tracing the ring of circle before pressing inside.
Arching his back as much as the rope will allow at the sudden surprise, Tim shivers again, really awake now, and his shock is rewarded with the sharp nip of teeth on his right calf, drawing a tiny whimper out of him.
"Still, Timmy," Jason warns him, finger pressing in all the way to the second knuckle, twisting and wriggling.
"'Kay," he breathes, resisting the urge to press further down onto Jason's finger, but then there's nothing there, and he lets out a whimper at the loss before something larger and more blunt is pressing against him, demanding entry. It's hot and heavy, thick, but it's not Jason. It's...
A soft whirring fills the air, and Tim feels his insides begin to liquefy with sudden vibration, his entire body going slack with it.
Oh yes, he's starting to like rope play a lot.
~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: The last of my dcu_freeforall claim prompts!! \O/ *parties* I'm so glad to get these done, you have no idea. *wibble* Also written for comment_fic.
Title | Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompts (as summary)
Their Rhythm | Dick/Jason/Tim | R | 582 w | comment_fic: the first night they were all together; DCU FFA: anxiety
The biggest surprise to all of them was that is wasn't Ivy's pollen that finally got them all together. It hadn't even been grief, or a long week of grueling patrols. To all of their surprise, it was a strange combination of boredom and the sharp tension that had developed between them since they all started working together as a real team after Bruce came back.
A slow night, a few games of rooftop tag, a leisurely trip back to the Cave, and they were all still thrumming with energy and the need to just get it out already. The suggestion of a little sparring came up as they all dressed from quick showers, and Jason had given his trademark smirk of approval, Tim rolling his eyes but assenting anyway.
Sparring, of course, had led to closer contact wrestling, each of them taking turns pinning the others and being pinned, laughter and mock battle cries echoing around the vast Cave. It was probably the easiest they'd gotten along since Jason had been welcomed back into the fold, neither Dick nor Tim expecting anything more antagonistic than an occasional sneer from the middle brother. Trust was really at an all time high for them, which probably made the rest of the night possible.
At some point, Jason managed to pin Tim under his larger bulk, the younger man's back to the mats and Jay snarking all the way about victory and submitting to his will, and Tim stilled beneath him, breaths coming heavier and blue eyes dark in the low light. It was like the air had suddenly gone electric, crackling with all that pent up energy, and even Dick's laughter had stopped, the eldest dropping down in a single controlled move to lean over Jason's back, settling between his legs.
"What do you think, Tim?" Dick said, voice low and even, not daring to betray the anxiety that it was clear they all felt in that one moment. "Time to welcome him back properly?"
Tim's hips rolled up into Jason's, and the middle brother gave a small gasp of surprise, his own eagerness quickly becoming apparent between them.
"I think it's time for a Jason sandwich," the youngest Bat answered, an eyebrow lifting over the barest quirk of a smile, and that was it, they were all gone to the moment.
Sweatpants and t-shirts were discarded in turn, hips grinding together, mouths finding each other as fingers carded through dark hair. Breaths loud in the Cave, groans and whimpers held barely in check as tongues lapped and teeth scraped over the skin of shoulders and necks and nipples and earlobes, and they were pressing together at long last, sinking into one another, Dick into Jason, Jason into Tim. It was so, so good, all that tension draining away, the three of them finding a rhythm, their rhythm, and with that final build up winding toward the inevitable, the anxiety fled and it was just them, just three Bats and this, this.
Shouts of release, connection, pleasure, and it was as if they'd become one, just for that brief moment in time as the world whited out around them.
Untangling themselves from each other afterward, clean sweat drying on their skin and their senses returning, breaths slowing, Jason was the first to laugh and break the silence between them. "Next time I vote for a Timmy sandwich."
Dick joined his laugh, Tim mock-scowling and delivering a swift kick to Jason's leg. "You wish."
Jason couldn't resist shutting him up with another kiss.
~*~*~
Crackpot Theories | Dick/Jason/Tim | R | 244 w | comment_fic: They find out about Robincest; DCU FFA: voyeur
"Are you shitting me!?" Jason scoffed as Tim turned the laptop to face him.
"It's true. They've got theories about all of us, and fiction and art to go with said theories."
Jay looked at the screen, scrutinizing the main banner and the recent posts on the main page of the online community. 'Robincest', it declared in bold lettering, with a picture of him, Tim, and Dick from a fight they'd had more than a year ago. The angle the pic had been taken from made it look like Dick and Tim were trying to rape him.
And that was just disturbing.
Because nothing they did had ever been anything less than consensual.
Scrolling down on the page, he looked at a few more posts, made by people with names like 'darthbatgirl', 'shiny_glor_chan', 'pervyficgirl', and 'saavikam77', obviously a bunch of clueless teenage girls with sex on the brain. And okay, so they had the three of them figured out, at least, how their personalities meshed in bed, what kind of kinky shit they'd been up to--almost as if they'd been there and seen just what had gone on--but there was one thing they had dead wrong.
Laughing despite himself at the revelation, he shoved the laptop back over to Tim. "Make sure to leak better closeups of me next time, will ya'? Some of these crackpots think I'm a redhead!"
Tim only huffed out a short laugh and went back to his infiltration of the online community.
~*~*~
Purpose in the Darkness Tim/Dick | NC-17 | 646 w | comment_fic: fantasty; DCU FFA: short pants
Tucked away in the deepest corner of the cave, Tim had to keep reminding himself that it was just fantasy. Nothing wrong with what he was doing, no more than what he did with a camera almost every night for years, seemingly on end. Though, that could be argued in hindsight, of course, but for the purposes of his activities tonight, it was probably better not to scrutinize that behavior pattern to closely. Here in the darkness, no one needed to know just how depraved he was, how much of a freaky little stalker he'd been and probably still was.
No, here it was just him and one of Dick's old uniforms. A bright yellow cape, a red tunic, and pair of green short pants, not that he could really make out the colors. He imagined he could feel those colors, though, as he ran the silk through his hands, the yellow slip-sliding away like sunshine and water, the red solid against his fingers, and the green like energy just barely held in check.
And it was this particular part of the uniform that held his interest the longest. It had truly been the closest to Dick, cradling him in his most intimate places, driving thugs and criminals to distraction with a flash of that color and the coiled muscles beneath it. Holding the garment up, he pressed his face into it, inhaling the scents that lingered even after a hundred washings. Acrobat's chalk, the sharpness of oil from a grappling gun, honest sweat, the faint iron tang of blood, and Dick's unique musk, a combination that went straight to Tim's head and to his groin immediately thereafter.
Splayed out on the floor in his little out-of-the-way corner, he shoved a hand into his own sweatpants and took hold of himself, imagining Dick working a case while he'd worn this uniform. All that sensory information had been just one component of a larger scene, probably one that Tim had witnessed. Maybe that time the Joker had made the trains inexplicably run on time. Maybe the case where Catwoman had ripped off the Gotham Museum of Modern Art. Or maybe even that time Poison Ivy had had him, bound with vines and stripped almost bare as she'd hit him with intoxicating spores.
Oh God, that image, that image! Dick struggling against the vines, the muscles of his legs working, straining, his hips pumping as he'd sought out release, to no avail, his chest flushed and heaving with his efforts. Oh, how Tim had wanted to leap from his perch and help him, help him... hold him still and peel off those short pants himself. That very night he'd gone home and worked himself until he'd come in his pajamas.
And what wonderful irony that here he was, same as then, but with Dick's uniform in one hand and his cock in the other, stroking, pulling, with Dick upstairs somewhere, that energetic form at rest, just waiting for Ivy to get the chance to take him prisoner again, drug him with those amazing spores, and--
With a strangled cry, Tim spilled over his hand and into his sweatpants, his own hips jerking and body tensing until the wave crested and fell, little tremors sweeping through him for a long, long time, and euphoria flooding every cell in his body. It was perfect release, exactly what he'd sought here in the darkness, so good, so perfectly good.
But it couldn't last, and as he slowly regained his breath and his senses afterward, he realized he was still clutching those green short pants tight enough for the elastic in the legs to leave a mark on his palm, and a feeling of remorse hit him squarely. How could he do this? How?
No. It was just fantasy. Just masturbation fodder. Nothing more. Even if he would have a hard time facing Dick tomorrow.
Just fantasy.
~*~*~
Taken Away | Jason/Tim | NC-17 | 497 w | comment_fic: bondage play; DCU FFA and 50_darkfics: rope | A/N: Follows Breaking and Of Trust and Zip-Strips
A few minutes in, and Tim's already warming up to this new addition to their repertoire. With the silk and bamboo rope--only the best available, of course--binding his wrists and forearms together behind his head, and led around to his knees, holding his legs up and spread, he feels completely open, open to Jason and anything he might want to do to him. The blindfold only seems to add to the effect, depriving him of a sense he's used to relying on, and even with the mild anxiety that comes with that, he thinks this might have to turn into a regular thing for them.
Where it once took zip-strips biting into his skin and a knife held to his throat to get him to let go, the rope is gentle and solid, letting him relax fully into the play. He doesn't feel the need to be manhandled and dominated this way, just to be restrained, held in place and taken away from all the crap he deals with on a daily basis. It's good. It's a good feeling.
But just as he's getting really comfortable in his position on the bed, he feels the mattress dip beside him with Jason's weight, a hand on the center of his chest, and he can't help a sound somewhere between a startled gasp and a purr of pleasure. He thinks maybe he's liking the ropes too much, as he realizes he was actually starting to drift off there for a second while Jay finished setting up whatever he had planned.
"Don't fall asleep on me, Baby Bird," Jason chuckles from somewhere above him, his hands smoothing over Tim's chest and belly, down over his inner thighs to his cheeks and back up the undersides of his legs.
Tim shivers a little at the contrast between the warm hands and the cold air that follows in their wake, and blinks behind the blindfold. "I'm awake," he insists, though there's not really much fire behind the statement.
"You will be," Jay shoots back, and with no warning there's a cool, slick finger resting against his entrance, tracing the ring of circle before pressing inside.
Arching his back as much as the rope will allow at the sudden surprise, Tim shivers again, really awake now, and his shock is rewarded with the sharp nip of teeth on his right calf, drawing a tiny whimper out of him.
"Still, Timmy," Jason warns him, finger pressing in all the way to the second knuckle, twisting and wriggling.
"'Kay," he breathes, resisting the urge to press further down onto Jason's finger, but then there's nothing there, and he lets out a whimper at the loss before something larger and more blunt is pressing against him, demanding entry. It's hot and heavy, thick, but it's not Jason. It's...
A soft whirring fills the air, and Tim feels his insides begin to liquefy with sudden vibration, his entire body going slack with it.
Oh yes, he's starting to like rope play a lot.
~*~*~