Damian Wayne Ficlets
Title: Serenity
Disclaimer: DC's, not mine.
Fandom: Batman
Pairing/Characters: Damian Wayne/Mar'i Grayson (Robin V/Nightstar)
Summary: He's a lot closer to happiness when he's with her.
Rating: Soft NC-17/Hard R
The last Joker fell, leaving the entire contingent of seemingly clownish marauders fully incapacitated. Robin scanned the unconscious bodies with cold contempt hidden behind his domino mask. None of them were in any position to be getting up and restarting the fight, especially with Nightstar on his side. Granted, she was more squeamish about dialing up the violence on scumbags like these, but when she put her mind to it, she could take down most crooks for the count with just one forceful blow.
Robin felt a graceful hand wrap around his wrist, tugging him. He let himself be tugged, finding himself in Nightstar’s embrace. When he saw the look in her emerald eyes, he understood what she wanted. Scenes like this always aroused that particular craving, that craving that she only trusted him to satisfy.
He silently allowed her to carry him away from the scene of that fight, marveling to himself as she gracefully lifted off into the night sky. He mused quietly to himself that someday, they would have to try what they were about to do while in the sky. To most people, that would be dangerous, but he trusted her. He trusted her like he trusted no one else, not even himself.
She flew them onto a rooftop, laying him down on his own cape. She began undoing the catches of his armor, freeing him from the black-and-red Kevlar tri-weave and exposing his lithe, muscled body to her inch by inch.
“Take off your mask,” Nightstar ordered. “I want to see your eyes.”
Robin obeyed, revealing blue eyes gone dark with wanting the girl - no, woman - before him. As a reward for his acquiescence, Nightstar removed her bracers and then undid the catches on her leotard, slipping out of the armor-like black fabric.
She was exposed before him, all sensual curves and hard muscles, a dichotomy that never escaped Robin’s notice. She reached into his discarded belt and pulled out a condom, burning away the wrapper with her starbolt energy and rolling the condom onto his sex. She straddled him, her naked sex teasingly rubbing against his sheathed member. Robin groaned from the contact and pushed his hips upward, managing to slip the head of his member inside her. Nightstar yielded to him, pushing her hips down to complete his penetration of her.
They were a silent symphony, moving in tandem. Robin pushed up, Nightstar pushed down. Her body undulated above him, her mouth was open in a silent cry of pleasure, her eyes were dark green with rapture. She was beautiful to him. She always had been. She always would be.
When he finally climaxed, he kissed her, feeling her inner muscles tighten around him with a strength that almost hurt. But he would bear this pain, bear her little death, just to share moments like these with her . . . because even a bastard prince could love.
Title: Something in the Air
Disclaimer: DC's, not mine.
Fandom: Batman
Pairings/Characters: Damian Wayne/Helena Kyle (Batman IV/Jaguar), Poison Ivy
Summary: A little dose of pollen from Poison Ivy "helps" Damian act on long-suppressed feelings.
Rating: Hard PG-13/R
It came to this. The cursed, unwanted bastard born of Bruce Wayne’s loins had taken his mantle. He had become Gotham’s Dark Knight, much to the dismay of most within the hero community. At best, they didn’t believe he was ready. At worst, they believed that he would be a perversion of everything Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson had created.
Damian Wayne didn’t care what they thought, but there were times when he doubted. His present situation, being trapped by Poison Ivy’s semi-sentient vines, was one of those times. The plant elemental smirked cruelly at him, her moss-green eyes alight with triumph.
“And so the son proves to not even be half of his father,” she intoned. “I must say, I’m not surprised.”
Batman scowled at her, despite the fact that his mask completely concealed his face. “Go to hell.”
“So rude,” Poison Ivy remarked. “Fortunately, I’ve brought in someone who’ll ensure that you’ll be a little more respectful.”
A section of plant growth parted, revealing a teenage girl, sixteen at most, garbed in skintight black leather with a cat-styled mask concealing her face from head to nose. Darkly tinted goggles covered her eyes, but Batman would know that girl anywhere, just by her lips. Helena Kyle, also known as Jaguar and the daughter of the original Catwoman.
“What does she have to do with this?” Batman snarled.
“I’m going to use you two for a little experiment.” A sinister smirk spread across Ivy’s face as she mentally commanded her vines. Instantly, more vines grabbed Batman’s head and savagely ripped away his mask, revealing mussed black hair and fierce blue eyes set in an attractive yet defiantly sharp-featured face. “Such a pretty boy you are. If I were the sort to be interested, I might not have to use the girl.”
“Leave her out of it,” Batman snarled. “Whatever you want to do with me, leave her out of it!”
“Care about her, do you?” Poison Ivy remarked.
Damian more than just cared about Helena. She was the bright spot in his life, one of the few people in his so-called family who didn’t think of him as a disgrace, a blight upon his father’s name. If Ivy hurt her, there would be nothing the Son of the Bat wouldn’t do to see the plant-woman suffer for it.
A strange plant with a large pinkish-red bud stretched in front of him and opened, spitting some kind of pollen into his face. Damian attempted not to breathe it in, but the vine around his throat tightened, making him gasp for breath and get a lungful of the pollen.
“Batman!” Jaguar shouted. She struggled in the vines, flicking her wrist to extend a knife blade hidden in her glove and slicing her arm loose. The vines attempted to grab her as she worked to cut herself free, but she was cutting faster than they could react. At the last moment, the plant that had infected Damian with its pollen turned to her and coughed out the same pollen in her face.
Jaguar coughed, trying to get the pollen out, but she had already breathed in a lungful of her own. Poison Ivy smiled. Her experiment would be ready to begin soon.
The vines released Damian and Jaguar, as Poison Ivy let herself be lifted above the scene by her plants, observing from a safe distance. Damian looked around for his mask, only to be distracted by the realization that the jock built into his armor was a lot tighter than normal. It didn’t take him but a few seconds to realize that the tightness of his cup came from his own arousal.
Fuck, he thought. That pollen. A special pheromone compound meant to hyper-stimulate sexual desire. And Helena breathed it in, too. . . .
He heard feminine, panting breaths near him and deduced that what was happening to him was happening to Jaguar as well. He moved to her side, only to notice that her ruby lips were parted in a way that he found absolutely tempting. He had wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips ever since she had matured enough for him not to be overly disgusted with himself for thinking that way of her.
Batman shook his head; he couldn’t afford to think such thoughts. This pheromone compound was part of some bigger plan that Poison Ivy had and he had to keep his mind as clear as possible to stop her.
“Come on, Jaguar,” he hissed roughly. “We have to stop her.”
To his surprise, Jaguar elected to kiss him instead, and to his even greater surprise, he didn’t push her off. He was about to, but instead of placing his hands on her chest to push her away, he placed them on her full hips to pull her closer. He deepened the kiss, even as the last shreds of rationality in him demanded that he stop kissing her, demanded that he go after Ivy, demanded that he remember that compared to his damned self, she was still just a child!
But when Jaguar took off her mask, revealing green eyes heated with lust, Batman decided that rationality could kiss his ass. He was going to give Helena what she had always wanted, and he was going to claim what he had always wanted. They would both win, in this, and - ultimately - against whatever scheme Ivy had cooked up. In the meantime, Helena was all his.