[flashfic] Red Lobster (Bart/Dick, adult, for MMoM)
Title: Red Lobster
Medium: DC comics
Pairing: Bart Allen/Dick Grayson
Rating: Adult
Spoilers/timeline: It's OYL, so Bart is tall and kind-of-sort-of legal.
Length: 800 words
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Beta by thenotoriousg, who devoutly hopes that her company does *not* read employee email. This is for oneangrykate, if she'll have it. *kiss*
Three seconds later, Bart's already sitting up and pushing his hair out of his eyes.
Dick hasn't even caught his breath.
Bart pokes Dick's forearm and grins sheepishly. "Wanna go again?"
Dick would groan, if he had the breath, but his throat's already sore from shouting his lungs out. He works his jaw instead, wriggles out the tingly numbness from his limbs, and sighs. It is entirely possible that his skin's started to *chafe*.
"Okay! Figured I'd check." Bart kisses him, his mouth wet and full as a fruit whose name Dick is, presently, far too stoned on pleasure to remember. As he tickles Dick's sweaty chest, Bart grins. "That was *fun*. Everyone always said you were super-flexy, but --"
Come to think of it, his left quad *is* oddly sore -- tight and numb at the same time. Dick stretches it slowly, rolling out his knee and pointing his toes, then catches Bart basically *ogling* him. Definitely ogling, his wide eyes brightening well past brass to something molten, his face flushing darkly.
"I was an acrobat," Dick says, more defensively than he'd like, and has to cough before continuing. "Not a contortionist."
Bart attempts a leer that manages to be clownish and oddly compelling all at once. "Could've fooled me!"
"Have to try to keep up, don't I?" Dick rolls on his side and pillows his head on one arm. He trails his free hand up Bart's shin; the bone there is prominent and strong, as long -- as unexpectedly *large* -- as the rest of him.
As, well -- Dick laughs hoarsely, then winces at the sting in his throat -- as the cock he just brushed his hand against. Bart's bending over him, breathing through his mouth, as Dick moves his hand back down, cupping the strong curve of Bart's thigh.
When he looks down between them, Bart's cock is standing up, a dark golden red that Dick has come to associate with autumn, with the leaves in Keystone's Garrick Square that still clutched the branches on their first date.
Dick laughs again -- Bart was the one who observed that only they would count taking down Mirror Mistress Minerva McCulloch and her Reflect-O-Minions as a *date* -- and scratches lightly until Bart meets his eye.
"I've got to --" Bart knocks Dick's hand out of the way to grasp the base of his erection. "Won't take long, I just --"
"Hey, buddy --" Dick smiles slowly, taking in, savoring, the sight of Bart. In his bed, shining with sweat and returning the smile a little shyly.
"Yeah?"
"Go wild," Dick says and settles back to watch. He unfolds the arm under his head and touches Bart's back, the rocky vertebrae and surprisingly broad shoulders, all the way down to the hollow over the base of his spine, the sweat beading again over the fine, fine hair.
Jacking, Bart's hand moves too fast to see -- like the rest of him, hence Dick's *chafing* -- while he clutches at Dick's arm with the other hand. "Oh, *God*, I --"
Bart always looks surprised when he gets this excited, like the shock and thrill are never going to get old.
Dick spreads his fingers, as if he can steady Bart, as if he's not just holding on for the ride.
Maybe he's not.
Bart's body, though, *is* speed, a twisting banner that's blurring beside Dick, his face contorting and smearing as his hair flies wide. He's *beautiful*, open and so full, so *fast*, that Dick has to grab him around the waist and haul him down, over, on top.
Into another kiss, Bart's tongue pulsating over Dick's lips, cheek, eyelids, as Dick slaps his hand over Bart's, their fingers slipping, then lacing together, around his cock. He feels -- cannot see, not clearly, but he can feel the arch of Bart's back, the run of shudders through him, the half a breathless moment like escape velocity before gravity rears up, and Bart's coming in their hands, over their knuckles, giggling even as he heaves for breath.
"I totally had it --" Bart says, rubbing his face against Dick's neck. "Weirdo. You didn't have to *help*."
Dick crooks his arm across Bart's back and squeezes him tighter. "Wanted to."
"Cool," Bart breathes, the vowels lengthening, starting to slur.
"Think you're done?"
"Mmm." Bart blinks owlishly. Sweat clumps together his lashes. "Maybe? Probably. I'd like to reserve the right to go again, though. Just, you know. In case."
"Of course." Dick kisses Bart's temple, feels the pulse thrumming there, then licks the curve of his ear until Bart trembles with ticklish giggles. "Just let me know?"
"Will do!" Bart kisses the side of Dick's jaw, mouth sliding away, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.
Just as quickly as he does everything else. Just as -- Dick's eyes are closing, and he really needs to remember to check that chafing. Later. -- just as *confidently* as everything else.
[end]
Medium: DC comics
Pairing: Bart Allen/Dick Grayson
Rating: Adult
Spoilers/timeline: It's OYL, so Bart is tall and kind-of-sort-of legal.
Length: 800 words
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Beta by thenotoriousg, who devoutly hopes that her company does *not* read employee email. This is for oneangrykate, if she'll have it. *kiss*
Three seconds later, Bart's already sitting up and pushing his hair out of his eyes.
Dick hasn't even caught his breath.
Bart pokes Dick's forearm and grins sheepishly. "Wanna go again?"
Dick would groan, if he had the breath, but his throat's already sore from shouting his lungs out. He works his jaw instead, wriggles out the tingly numbness from his limbs, and sighs. It is entirely possible that his skin's started to *chafe*.
"Okay! Figured I'd check." Bart kisses him, his mouth wet and full as a fruit whose name Dick is, presently, far too stoned on pleasure to remember. As he tickles Dick's sweaty chest, Bart grins. "That was *fun*. Everyone always said you were super-flexy, but --"
Come to think of it, his left quad *is* oddly sore -- tight and numb at the same time. Dick stretches it slowly, rolling out his knee and pointing his toes, then catches Bart basically *ogling* him. Definitely ogling, his wide eyes brightening well past brass to something molten, his face flushing darkly.
"I was an acrobat," Dick says, more defensively than he'd like, and has to cough before continuing. "Not a contortionist."
Bart attempts a leer that manages to be clownish and oddly compelling all at once. "Could've fooled me!"
"Have to try to keep up, don't I?" Dick rolls on his side and pillows his head on one arm. He trails his free hand up Bart's shin; the bone there is prominent and strong, as long -- as unexpectedly *large* -- as the rest of him.
As, well -- Dick laughs hoarsely, then winces at the sting in his throat -- as the cock he just brushed his hand against. Bart's bending over him, breathing through his mouth, as Dick moves his hand back down, cupping the strong curve of Bart's thigh.
When he looks down between them, Bart's cock is standing up, a dark golden red that Dick has come to associate with autumn, with the leaves in Keystone's Garrick Square that still clutched the branches on their first date.
Dick laughs again -- Bart was the one who observed that only they would count taking down Mirror Mistress Minerva McCulloch and her Reflect-O-Minions as a *date* -- and scratches lightly until Bart meets his eye.
"I've got to --" Bart knocks Dick's hand out of the way to grasp the base of his erection. "Won't take long, I just --"
"Hey, buddy --" Dick smiles slowly, taking in, savoring, the sight of Bart. In his bed, shining with sweat and returning the smile a little shyly.
"Yeah?"
"Go wild," Dick says and settles back to watch. He unfolds the arm under his head and touches Bart's back, the rocky vertebrae and surprisingly broad shoulders, all the way down to the hollow over the base of his spine, the sweat beading again over the fine, fine hair.
Jacking, Bart's hand moves too fast to see -- like the rest of him, hence Dick's *chafing* -- while he clutches at Dick's arm with the other hand. "Oh, *God*, I --"
Bart always looks surprised when he gets this excited, like the shock and thrill are never going to get old.
Dick spreads his fingers, as if he can steady Bart, as if he's not just holding on for the ride.
Maybe he's not.
Bart's body, though, *is* speed, a twisting banner that's blurring beside Dick, his face contorting and smearing as his hair flies wide. He's *beautiful*, open and so full, so *fast*, that Dick has to grab him around the waist and haul him down, over, on top.
Into another kiss, Bart's tongue pulsating over Dick's lips, cheek, eyelids, as Dick slaps his hand over Bart's, their fingers slipping, then lacing together, around his cock. He feels -- cannot see, not clearly, but he can feel the arch of Bart's back, the run of shudders through him, the half a breathless moment like escape velocity before gravity rears up, and Bart's coming in their hands, over their knuckles, giggling even as he heaves for breath.
"I totally had it --" Bart says, rubbing his face against Dick's neck. "Weirdo. You didn't have to *help*."
Dick crooks his arm across Bart's back and squeezes him tighter. "Wanted to."
"Cool," Bart breathes, the vowels lengthening, starting to slur.
"Think you're done?"
"Mmm." Bart blinks owlishly. Sweat clumps together his lashes. "Maybe? Probably. I'd like to reserve the right to go again, though. Just, you know. In case."
"Of course." Dick kisses Bart's temple, feels the pulse thrumming there, then licks the curve of his ear until Bart trembles with ticklish giggles. "Just let me know?"
"Will do!" Bart kisses the side of Dick's jaw, mouth sliding away, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.
Just as quickly as he does everything else. Just as -- Dick's eyes are closing, and he really needs to remember to check that chafing. Later. -- just as *confidently* as everything else.
[end]