We Shadows
Title: We Shadows
Author: windfallswest
Pairing: Nikolai Luzhin/Terry McGinnis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: У меня нет
Author's Note: Most simply put, this is an Eastern Promises/Batman Beyond crossover set more or less in the Firefly universe. There's a smattering of other things and it's part of a larger thing I'm working on, but the story stands alone.
Beta'd by the lovely htebazytook, who has once again allowed me to drag her into fandoms unknown, beyond all boundaries of sanity.
"Hey, Batman."
Terry narrowed his eyes. "What?"
Belker drew a finger across his throat.
"It's safe," Terry assured him.
"You be sure on that: this doesn't go over airwaves at all, dong ma?"
Terry's link to the Batcave was off at the moment. "I'm listening."
"I'm only telling you this because I have a pretty good idea what you're about to do and there ain't much I can do to stop you." He took a deep breath. "We got a man inside the Voryx v zakonje."
"Who?" Terry asked.
"Nikolai."
In the Vor, there was only one Nikolai. "You're joking." Holy clusterfuck.
"I am so very not joking," Belker told him. "So when you pull this damnfool stunt of yours, hairbag, you watch where you put your feet. We got a lot invested in this."
Belker's eyes were wide and sincere in that way he had that made it clear he was capable of tearing out your throat with his teeth.
"I'm always careful," Terry said.
Belker made an indelicate sound. Terry refrained from pointing out that he'd be floating face-down out at sea if he wasn't careful and instead waited until Belker closed his eyes on a sip of coffee to launch himself off the roof. He'd more or less axed his credibility on that score the first time Commissioner Belker'd hauled out the old signal and just stared at him once they'd done talking. Terry had returned his stare, and then thrown himself backwards off the roof. He'd been asking for it. Almost gave Bruce an attack of apoplexy, though.
"McGinnis." Bruce's cracked voice in his ear. Missed you so much.
"I'm here. Got some interesting news for you, though. Just wait 'til you hear this."
Terry's careful. There's just no such thing as careful enough in this job. Which is the short version of how he winds up in the abandoned dockside catacombs with rising water, Nikolai Andrejevich Luzhin, and his mask in a puddle on the stones between them.
The long version is that he pays the Vor smuggling operation a visit two nights later. It's a stormy night and Terry's glad to be underground where he doesn't have to worry about lightning. Knock out a few guards and he had access to the back-up servers. He hooked up the Hoover drive, an eye on the countdown until the alarms went off.
Right on cue. Terry yanked out the Hoover and dashed down the hall towards Phase Two. Phase Two was get the hell out: nice and simple. The Hoover drive could suck an entire network dry in minutes, which meant he had enough evidence for Belker to raid the next incoming shipment.
Things started going wrong when he felt the building shake. Terry ran up out of the tunnels and turned left into the loading bay instead of the side door to the right that led to a typically dingy alley. Just in time to see another crate of ammo blow.
What the...?
It took Terry another second to register the sound of gunshots. He threw himself behind a support beam, gaze drifting rapidly around the room, trying to assess the state of affairs.
"Got a bit of a situation here, old man."
"Who's shooting?" Bruce asked tersely.
"The Vor and a bunch of guys in leather. Probably spacers they've been dealing with."
He was interrupted as another batch of Vor moved in to outflank the spacers. "Spacers are way outnumbered I think they're about to buy it."
Terry saw a familiar face through a gap in a line of crates. "Oh, shit."
"What?"
"Nikolai's here."
"This changes nothing. You can't-"
"Yeah, yeah."
The spacers had their hands up and guns on the floor now.
Was it a double-cross? Assassination attempt? Nikolai was standing up now. He tugged his jacket straight. Terry started slowly working his way around the edge of the room.
Nikolai was saying something. There was a gun in his hand. Aimed.
Now.
Terry shot across the loading bay, knocking the spacer out of the line of fire. Everyone was shooting at him now. Well, that was more or less the natural order of things. If he had any luck at all, this was the spacers' captain and Terry could wring something out of him. Plus, you know, murder bad, rah rah.
"Come on!" Terry shouted at the man he had hold of and whoever was following them. He was a little turned around, but there was Bruce shouting directions in his ear, and there it was, up ahead: an exit.
Three things happened at once then: something tackled Terry to the ground, a shout of victory tore through the air, and there was a very bright light.
Terry was still falling, he realised. Large chunks of antique masonry were tumbling around him. This warehouse was on the waterfront where the old seaport had become the new spaceport. The door he'd been running towards must have originally led out to a row of private piers.
"McGinnis! Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Crappy old construction," Terry replied. He ignited the jets on his feet. "Sea must've been eating away at the foundations. A couple good explosions and there she goes-goushi 1."
No comment from Bruce, who could see Nikolai tumbling towards the waves in the big holo-projector in the Batcave just as well as Terry could. He dove.
"I got him!" Terry shouted, just before a chunk of masonry hit him on the head.
The shock of the cold water brought Nikolai back to consciousness. There was a body on top of him, too dark to see properly. They plunged together through the water until the waves stopped beating them down. For a second, all he could think of was the song that had been running through his mind ever since he aimed the gun at Maitlin. Nikolai shook himself out of it and grabbed the other man around the waist and started swimming. They should still be close to the shore and the piers.
Rock. Nikolai felt at it with his fingers. He crept along, lungs burning for air. There were tunnels, drains, old catacombs: holes in the rock from when the city was younger. He suppressed an impulse to start humming.
Ьыcmро, быстрее, Николай. 2
There. Nikolai scrambled through the opening, dragging his burden limply behind him. In the dark, he ran his face into the stairs. Nikolai kicked upwards, towards the hope of air. He broke the surface, finally, an eternity later. Swimming up the corridor, the tune still echoing in his head, he thought the water was getting more shallow. The ways below Gotham were not level.
He strained in the gloom, always a little further, until suddenly he felt the floor under his feet and his boots plashed through only a few shallow puddles. The sporadic glow of phosphorescent algae wasn't enough to illuminate anything. Now that he had stopped moving, though, Nikolai could tell that the body in his arms wasn't breathing.
He sat down on weak legs and did his best to lay the body flat, face down. Something over his face. Nikolai scrabbled at it until it peeled away and threw it aside. Apply presure on the back, try to push the water out of the lungs. Ещё раз 3. Now roll him over and try CPR. Strong breaths. How long had they been underwater?
Five times, between the ribs, below the sternum. Breathe again. Again. Ещe раз. Repeat.
His lips tasted like the murky, gritty bay water. Nikolai was getting dizzy. It was very dark. The body half-under him was chilled, but it moved at last, a spasmodic gasp for breath that almost sucked all the air from Nikolai's lungs, followed immediately by a kiss that succeeded.
Terry woke up to a mouth on his own, and in the dark between that first, lurching breath and the return of memory, he responded. The lips pulled away, and Terry let his head fall back and opened his eyes.
Darkness. That was wrong for some reason. Without thinking, he flicked on the built-in glo-light on the sleeve...of...the batsuit.
Oooh, crap.
Nikolai Andrejevich Luzhin looked down at him. The damning look of alarm on his face was almost as good as the one on Terry's own must have been. He cursed and vomited up a half-gallon of bay-water. Ew.
Terry stayed bent over for a second to get his face under control when he'd finished. He sat up quickly and refused to be dizzy.
"So you are the Batman," Nikolai said after about two minutes of heavy silence.
"And you're the mole," Terry replied. A quick glance told him his mask was on the floor between them.
Nikolai followed the direction of his eyes. "You were not breathing. We fell into the water, after the explosion. When we arrived here, I was disorientated. The mask was in the way. I did not think what it was until there was light."
Bruce was going to flip a shit, to put it mildly.
"Where are we?" Terry asked.
Nikolai glanced around. "Under the old city. The passages connect to the harbour, and to other places."
"I know."
Even in the dim light, Nikolai looked a little worse for wear. There were a couple raw-looking scrapes along one side of his face and a nasty-looking bump on his forehead, not to mention his suit was trashed.
"It's a good thing we met like this. We'll need to coordinate our efforts."
"I heard about the sting. I suppose that Commissioner Belker was unhappy."
Terry narrowed his eyes. Cool it, he told himself firmly.
"I'd prefer not to compromise your operation, but I can't just leave the Vor alone. They're up to their necks in everything that stinks in this city."
"I know," said Nikolai mildly.
"Then our options are limited."
Nikolai grunted. "I work alone."
Terry smirked humourlessly. "Until they put a bullet through your head. You should keep going up the tunnels. I'll find my own way out."
He picked up his mask and shook some of the excess water out before putting it back on and fished the rebreather out of his belt.
"I'll be in touch," he added. He didn't wait to see if Nikolai was moving yet before he turned back to the water and put the rebreather in his mouth.
"I thought it was a good kiss, too," Nikolai said.
Terry, knee-deep in water, glared at him flatly over his shoulder and dove smoothly down the flight of flooded stairs.
For a minute, Nikolai allowed himself a smile in the dark. Then he turned and, with a hand on the wall, started walking in the opposite direction.
"McGinnis! Terry! Are you all right?" Bruce's voice called urgently almost as soon as Terry started moving. He tapped the communicator on his ear twice to let the old man know he was all right.
"Head back as soon as you can; that should be about enough excitement for one night. Do you need anything?"
Three taps: no.
"All right."
The dark, smooth sides of the tunnel fell away, leaving Terry floating through the bay's murky water. He glanced down at the evil-looking messes rusting on the bottom, then turned his attention upwards.
Activating the call-circuit for the Batmobile, Terry jetted upward to the surface. The storm was still going on. He had just enough time to check his chrono before the Batmobile pulled up next to him in the air. Not quite an hour.
Terry winced as he slid into the seat. Bruce was going to make him scrub out the whole interior now, with a toothbrush.
"Wayne, are you there?" Terry asked once he was moving again, switching on the voice link. Outside the Batmobile's canopy, rain lashed furiosly, blurring the skyscrapers streaking past.
"McGinnis. What happened?"
"Something must have knocked me on the head. I was underwater for a while."
"I see. Did you get the name of the ship?"
Terry banked around the Часы Пдощади 4 and struck out south-west.
"No, it wasn't docked there. I got a pretty good look at some of the crew, though."
"Good. I'll see if I can identify any of them as crew on recently arrived ships using the pictures from the vid-feed. If that doesn't work, we'll do it the old-fashioned way."
"Wonderful. I'm coming in."
The waterfall parted and he was through, ears ringing in the sudden silence, hearing the quiet hum of the engine for the first time since he headed out.
Bruce tapped over to meet him when he jumped out.
"Ah, the sweet waterfront aroma. Brings back memories."
Terry tossed him the Hoover drive. "Something else happened tonight. Tell you once I've showered."
Terry pulled off the mask and walked over to the decon shower. Might as well steam-clean the suit while he was at it.
"-so I went for Nikolai, but I must've got knocked in the head by something because next thing I know, I'm in the old city catacombs and Nikolai's giving me CPR. I turned on the light without thinking. He'd taken the mask off because it was in the way. It was dark, he wasn't thinking; didn't know what it was." Terry stopped pacing and sat down with his head bowed and his hands over the back of his neck, elbows propped on his knees. "The shock circuits must have malfunctioned."
"There was an awful lot of not-thinking going on down there." Bruce's voice was even more ominous than usual.
"I-" Terry started, then slumped. "-I know. I'm sorry."
"You should be, but sorry isn't going to help anything now."
"Look at it like this: at least we have a way of contacting Nikolai under the radar if we need to."
Bruce grunted. "Maybe."
"What, don't you think we can trust him?" Terry asked.
"We'll see; for now, I don't think he can do anything without risking his own cover. Shouldn't you be working on that circuitry?"
Terry glared at him mid-yawn and trudged over to the work-bench.
Terry sleep-walked through his classes again the next day. He really had to find a better way of coping with the sleep-deprivation. Or, who knew, maybe he'd get used to it eventually. It'd only been a couple of months so far.
Long enough for Dana to get seriously pissed at him, at least. The umbrella of his dad's recent death was definitely closing on him.
"Hm?" Terry asked, jerking his eyes back into focus.
"Lunch. The bell rang. Class is over, we go eat. Am I ringing any bells here?"
"Oh. yeah. Sorry. I just got distracted for a second." He stood up and quickly gathered his books.
Dana was tapping her foot impatiently, arms crossed. "Yeah, I always thought that waste-disposal was fascinating, too."
Terry sighed. "Do you want to go to lunch or what?"
"Don't do me any favours, McGinnis," Dana said and stalked out.
Last name. Yowch. Terry was in for it today. He followed her, trying not to feel like he wanted to wring her pale little neck. He didn't, really, it was just-he was as frustrated as she was, and he couldn't tell her. He felt like he couldn't tell her anything anymore, not how he was feeling or why or anything important and that sucked beyond all previous domains of suckitude. Dana had always demanded more than just being loved-it was one of the things Terry really admired about her. Hell, he wouldn't have sat still for half this shit. He wasn't honest or dependable or even fucking awake have the time. She deserved better. But he already missed talking like they had; he didn't want to give up any more.
"Manage to rouse Sleeping Beauty, did you?" Max asked when they sat down.
"Don't know why I even bother. Chelsea, did you hear about Eric and Natalie?"
Chelsea gave Terry a pitying look that made him feel about a centimetre tall before turning away to answer's Dana's question and dropping him from her attention with an audible thunk. Derrick patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
When Terry arrived at Wayne Manor that afternoon, his insane hopes of being able to catch up on some studying were immediately dashed.
"I've been looking at the data you brought back," Bruce said without preamble.
"Find anything?" Terry asked lightly, just because it pissed him off.
Bruce pressed a button on the computer's control board in an impressively quelling manner. A stream of text blinked into existence and scrolled itself obediently to a certain point.
"Looks like a schedule."
"It is. They'll be changing most of it now they know they've been compromised, but ships work on a longer time-scale. They won't be able to alter all their plans."
Hooking one of the chairs with his ankle, Terry straddled it and crossed his arms over the back. "That was the general idea, wasn't it"
"Yes. And in two days, another shipment's coming in."
Terry raised an eyebrow. "Something big?"
"There's a ship going out the next day for Pará."
"Slave-traders," Terry spat. "So much for my Saturday night."
"I want you to be more careful, this time."
"I will be. Is there word on anything going down tonight?" Terry asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.
Bruce grunted, but let it pass. "Couple of bodies turned up, small-time robberies. Nothing unusual."
"Got a plan for Saturday?" Terry leaned forward, balancing the chair on two legs, and pulled up the murder files, just in case.
"I'm working on something. You go ahead and spend a few hours studying."
Joy.
That night was the hell night, the first of them. But after that, after Drusilla and the sick and the crazy, there was still the boat to Pará. The police were in disarray, practically flying apart with the damage control: no one else was watching. Their plan was still half-formed, interrupted like everything else had been. So Terry decided to pay Nikolai a visit. He was so fucking not going to lose this one. Bruce didn't entirely approve, but getting intel from Nikolai was their best bet.
"I'll be in, I'll be out, completely anonymous," Terry argued, unbudging in Wayne Manor's foyer.
He was expecting an argument. Instead, Bruce stared him down with his Batman eyes. "Don't get caught," he said, and walked back inside.
Terry flashed him a sharp smile, the first in what felt like a long time.
"And wear tighter pants," Bruce added over his shoulder.
Terry's brain broke, unpleasantly. "So wrong," he muttered to himself. He had already slung his backpack into one of the sitting rooms, so he turned around and walked out without further delay, to the covered portico where he parked his hoverbike.
Nikolai usually made an appearance at Под Липами 5 on Friday and Saturday nights before disappearing into his limo-or upstairs-to attend to other business. Terry-in tighter pants-waited in line at the side door with the rest of the dregs. When his turn came, the bouncer gave him a once-over and waved him through once he got his cover.
Inside, Под Липами was a mess of grav/antigrav flooring, allowing the big shots to be and not be in the middle of things. The professional dancers floated overhead or off in the middle of empty space, equally inaccessible. Terry felt oddly like a sleep-walker with the bass shuddering through him and the strobing lights making everyone's movements look jittery and alien. This was-well, not exactly like the clubs he and Dana went to, but close enough that he felt weird stalking it. It was like flying through the school hallways in the suit.
The boss floor was probably high- to mid-way up, with a good vantage on the dancing both above and below. Terry tried to relax into the music and make his way into the thick of the dancing. From there, it was easier to make your way upwards, if you knew how.
Partway up, he grabbed a drink from a passing tray and swished a gulp of it around in his mouth to give his breath an authentic gloss of alcohol. He wasn't too worried about what was in it, so long as he didn't swallow.
Terry searched for Nikolai covertly through half-low lashes. There was a patch of light he'd noticed earlier. It was steadier than the rest and there seemed to be less movement in that area. Now he could see men in suits and the muted flash of expensive jewellery reflecting glimmers of the erratic illumination and transmuting them to muted gleams. He made a few quick estimations and decided to move up a couple more levels.
Abandoning the full glass, Terry moved back onto the dance floor. A shift of weight at the right moment and his section of the floor started to float slowly upwards.
Nikolai set his fork down and took another sip of wine before answering Kirill. Kirill was well on his way to being drunk-which, in Nikolai's opinion, was an eminently practical idea for once. These past days had been dark and disturbing, though the events had touched the Vor only on their edges. Kirill, however, would have been drunk anyway.
There were no guests to entertain tonight, only himself and Kirill and Mèi and Cora and Sasha gathered around a few tables. Bors and Gareth and their counterparts hovered discreetly in the shadows.
Kirill went off on a tangent, for the moment dropping Nikolai from his attention. Nikolai stood up and walked over to the edge of their floor and let his eyes wander over the chaotic mass seething on the club's lev-floors. There were shrieks and laughter as one of the segments decided to rise. A face jumped out at Nikolai through the smoke and the schiz lights. In the flickering shadows, there was no mistaking the blue eyes flashing up at him.
"He's pretty," Kirill observed, slinging his arm around Nikolai's neck with his usual familiarity. "You should fuck him."
"Kirill," Nikolai protested quietly.
"You do nothing but work. Have a little fun, yeah?" Kirill thumped him benevolently on the back, eyes tracking Batman speculatively. "Oh well. If you do not want him, perhaps I shall try."
As amusing as that would be to watch, it was most likely a bad idea. Nikolai pursed his lips and made a show of thinking it over. After a suitable period of watching Batman shimmy, he handed his glass off to one of the waitstaff and took a step towards the lift-squares.
"Perhaps I have been working too much," he conceded mildly in response to Kirill's knowing look.
Kirill laughed and let out a whoop of victory.
Foolish boy, Nikolai thought, drifting precisely down to where Batman was waiting for him.
A few of the crowd tried to clear out of his way, but Nikolai waved them down. He was dressed casually, slacks and a slate-blue shirt cut from Húnán silk. Let them think pleasure, not business.
The music was louder down here. Nikolai could feel it pushing at his feet and chest. He threaded his way through the dancers until he found Batman.
Batman's knife-sharp eyes locked on Nikolai's; they were followed a moment later by his arms. He was a good dancer, but Nikolai could feel the locked-up tension in his muscles. Shoulders, back, arms, torso. Well, and after the past few days, who could blame him if this crowd was not the best thing for his nerves?
Nikolai started edging them out of the press, back into the dark and the stationary floors by the walls.
"This is not a wise thing to do," Nikolai admonished.
Batman's smile was like a razor, sharp and slow across the throat. "Terry," he supplied. He hadn't said, the last time they met. He was giving Nikolai permission to investigate, and a place to start. Before, it might have looked suspicious to his people. Evidently, Batman was being serious. Even if Terry wasn't his real name.
Batman slid his arms around Nikolai's waist. He felt something being slipped into his back pocket.
Nikolai leaned in more intimately. "Is that what I think it is?" he breathed dangerously.
"An excuse to go somewhere more private," Batman replied. "I'm not that new at this."
"Really," Nikolai murmured. But this was not the appropriate place for such conversation. He gave Terry a warning look and led him him around to a private exit.
"Shiny place," Batman said, looking around.
There were rooms above the club, of course; and then there were rooms above the rooms. No one was in this corridor except Guido and Alan, who were standing watch.
Nikolai walked confidently down the deep, muffling carpet to the elevator. Alan opened it for them with a respectful inclination of his head.
Batman looked at Nikolai meaningfully in the elevator, but didn't say anything. Upstairs, Nikolai pressed his hand against the palm-lock-it was more difficult to acquire and conceal a man's hand than it was his thumb-on one of four visible, unnumbered doors. It slid quietly open.
"After you," Nikolai said, gesturing graciously. Batman cocked an eyebrow, but went in. Nikolai locked the door behind them. Sound-proofed at least, and safe enough. These rooms weren't bugged, as a matter of course. Nikolai did a quick sweep, then, on impulse, settled himself on the bed.
"You should not have come here." Mistake number one: letting someone else take your initiative.
"I'm stopping the shipment tomorrow night."
Of course he was. Evidently, his eyes didn't require poor lighting to burn like that. It was genuine passion. Or insanity. Mistake two: did he trust Nikolai already, or was his control that much lacking? Nikolai remained silent.
"Just tell me if there's a reason it needs to go through. I want to take people in." His voice, at least was reasonable. Factual and flat.
"Of course, мальчик 6. But I am not going to change the plans. And I am not going to give them to you. There is no reason for you to be here," Nikolai told him mildly.
"You don't have to give me anything. I'm here because we can take these bastards down faster if we work together. You know I have more investigative resources than the cops."
"Мальчик," Nikolai said it again because Batman clearly found it infuriating. Mistake three: know yourself. "You have my record, я уверен. It is not lies. I am not a nice man. This is why I am useful."
"Is as does," Terry replied. "I walk out of here right now, someday this is all gonna be blown wide and the roaches will all go skittering beneath the floorboards. You want that?"
"I look after myself," Nikolai said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. Batman was an unwanted complication.
Batman was still standing, arms folded, looming over Nikolai, whose nonchalance was growing thin. "I don't go away if you ignore me. If your op burns because you're too blinded by your own pride-"
Nikolai was on his feet in a blink, right in Batman's face. Tall.
Batman's mouth set. "You know I'm right!"
"Obviously, no one has taught you wisdom, мальчик."
"This isn't wisdom, it's fucking territorial mafioso bullshit."
"And as a vigilante, you are of course much superior."
"At least I have my priorities straight! Stop being so gorram contrary!' Batman was waving his arms now in sharp, wide gestures. His bangs fell in and out of his eyes. His mouth tasted like Rifle Grease-of course, so had his breath. But Batman's eyes had still been tracking. Now, to be sure, it was hard to say.
Batman clutched Nikolai with fists like clamps. He was still rigid, almost shaking, under Nikolai's hands. Desperate, desperate for something, that kiss said. Their clothes were falling away before Nikolai had time to gather his thoughts again.
They hit the bed and kicked shoes off in every direction. Belts came off, skin met skin. Nikolai stopped for a moment, breathed, ran his hands down Batman's smooth, bare chest.
Beneath him, Batman made impatient noises. He pulled Nikolai down and rolled on top, wriggling out of his trousers.
"Damn...fucking...chùsheng xai jiao de xiang huo 7," Batman cursed. "Lao cong míng de... 8"
Nikolai skimmed his hands up Batman's sides, snuck them around back of his shoulders and just dug his fingers in. Batman shuddered into silence. He kicked his trousers the rest of the way off and leaned into it.
He could do this all night and not get anywhere, Nikolai realised; but it was the work of a moment to persuade Batman onto his stomach. He pressed down on the knots, working his way along Batman's back.
"Nn...don't care. Don't stop," Batman said when Nikolai's rough fingers hesitated on the edge of a bruise. He hissed, but it looked like he was still enjoying himself. Nikolai had seen the news feeds; it was a wonder there was an unbruised inch on him. For his face, Nikolai suspected make-up.
Down the abused length of Batman's back, all the way to his firmly-muscled ass. A judicious application of tongue earned him another string of curses. A jerky sort of shiver; and there, he was starting to relax.
Nikolai continued tongue-fucking the little hole. Batman melted beneath him. It was good to know he had not lost his touch. It had been a while since he'd last done this; it was not the sort of thing the de facto leader of the Vor felt free do to with many bedmates.
Nikolai had two fingers in now as well, stretching. He pulled out and spread more lube on before adding the third. Just fingers now, his other hand back to massaging the loosening knots. Batman was up on his knees and thrusting back onto Nikolai's fingers, which were rubbing against his prostate.
"I want to fuck you," Nikolai told him.
"Unmgh," Batman moaned. "Yes. Do it. I'm ready," he managed a little more coherently.
Nikolai withdrew to fish the condom Batman had slipped into his pocket earlier out of his discarded trousers. Batman flopped over onto his back, one foot flat on the sheets, knee bent, eyes bright and breath coming faster. His cock was long and dark, with precome glistening at the head.
Nikolai realised he'd been staring when Batman crawled forward and took the condom out of his hand.
"Unh," he said intelligently when Batman touched him.
Nikolai pressed their mouths together again. He licked at Batman's lips and, when they parted for him, he worried the bottom one with his teeth.
Batman seized hold of his head, demanding. The kiss took them backwards, Nikolai between Batman's thighs, Batman sucking insistently on Nikolai's tongue.
Nikolai took the hint and positioned himself. He slid slowly through the tight ring of muscle. Batman was making sexy, inarticulate sounds, through which he could distinguish more and Nikolai. His heels were digging into Nikolai's lower back, impaling himself on Nikolai's cock.
So tight, so good. Nikolai groaned. His hips snapped forward and he was in.
He grabbed Batman's bruised hips and thrust, setting a rhythm. Batman didn't quite manage to stifle a shout when Nikolai nailed his prostate and his hips surged upwards in reaction.
"Harder," Batman gasped. "Nikolai."
"Terry," he managed. Did it matter what his name was? Batman's eyes were darker now with arousal, but they still burned him like laser drills. He bent to kiss chapped lips, to feel his breath, the pounding of his heart. Batman clutched his fingers, trapping him. "God, please."
Nikolai reached down and took Batman's dick in his hand. He lasted a few strokes, and then he was shaking and spilling all over their stomachs. The wide, surprised look in his eyes sent Nikolai over the edge after him.
Nikolai leaned down and kissed him lavishly before pulling out. Their kisses trailed off into stillness, intertwined on top of the silk sheets.
Just as he was about to doze off, Batman disentangled himself and slipped out of bed. Nikolai watched through half-open eyes as Batman walked over to the washroom.
"Leaving?" he asked eventually.
"I have other appointments."
Nikolai just gave him a lazy sort of look. Batman used his shirt to smack his thigh reproachfully before pulling it on.
"Later," Batman said.
"We will see." Batman gave him a Batman sort of look.
"There is nothing special about tomorrow night," Nikolai said for some reason he did not quite understand. Batman, half-out the door, did not turn around; but he was swaggering a little as Nikolai watched him disappear out the door.
- - -
[1] Crap
[2] Quickly, quicker, Nikolai
[3] One more time.
[4] Clock of the Square
[5] Under the Linden Trees
[6] Boy
[7] Animal-fucking bastard
[8] Clever old...
Author: windfallswest
Pairing: Nikolai Luzhin/Terry McGinnis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: У меня нет
Author's Note: Most simply put, this is an Eastern Promises/Batman Beyond crossover set more or less in the Firefly universe. There's a smattering of other things and it's part of a larger thing I'm working on, but the story stands alone.
Beta'd by the lovely htebazytook, who has once again allowed me to drag her into fandoms unknown, beyond all boundaries of sanity.
"Hey, Batman."
Terry narrowed his eyes. "What?"
Belker drew a finger across his throat.
"It's safe," Terry assured him.
"You be sure on that: this doesn't go over airwaves at all, dong ma?"
Terry's link to the Batcave was off at the moment. "I'm listening."
"I'm only telling you this because I have a pretty good idea what you're about to do and there ain't much I can do to stop you." He took a deep breath. "We got a man inside the Voryx v zakonje."
"Who?" Terry asked.
"Nikolai."
In the Vor, there was only one Nikolai. "You're joking." Holy clusterfuck.
"I am so very not joking," Belker told him. "So when you pull this damnfool stunt of yours, hairbag, you watch where you put your feet. We got a lot invested in this."
Belker's eyes were wide and sincere in that way he had that made it clear he was capable of tearing out your throat with his teeth.
"I'm always careful," Terry said.
Belker made an indelicate sound. Terry refrained from pointing out that he'd be floating face-down out at sea if he wasn't careful and instead waited until Belker closed his eyes on a sip of coffee to launch himself off the roof. He'd more or less axed his credibility on that score the first time Commissioner Belker'd hauled out the old signal and just stared at him once they'd done talking. Terry had returned his stare, and then thrown himself backwards off the roof. He'd been asking for it. Almost gave Bruce an attack of apoplexy, though.
"McGinnis." Bruce's cracked voice in his ear. Missed you so much.
"I'm here. Got some interesting news for you, though. Just wait 'til you hear this."
Terry's careful. There's just no such thing as careful enough in this job. Which is the short version of how he winds up in the abandoned dockside catacombs with rising water, Nikolai Andrejevich Luzhin, and his mask in a puddle on the stones between them.
The long version is that he pays the Vor smuggling operation a visit two nights later. It's a stormy night and Terry's glad to be underground where he doesn't have to worry about lightning. Knock out a few guards and he had access to the back-up servers. He hooked up the Hoover drive, an eye on the countdown until the alarms went off.
Right on cue. Terry yanked out the Hoover and dashed down the hall towards Phase Two. Phase Two was get the hell out: nice and simple. The Hoover drive could suck an entire network dry in minutes, which meant he had enough evidence for Belker to raid the next incoming shipment.
Things started going wrong when he felt the building shake. Terry ran up out of the tunnels and turned left into the loading bay instead of the side door to the right that led to a typically dingy alley. Just in time to see another crate of ammo blow.
What the...?
It took Terry another second to register the sound of gunshots. He threw himself behind a support beam, gaze drifting rapidly around the room, trying to assess the state of affairs.
"Got a bit of a situation here, old man."
"Who's shooting?" Bruce asked tersely.
"The Vor and a bunch of guys in leather. Probably spacers they've been dealing with."
He was interrupted as another batch of Vor moved in to outflank the spacers. "Spacers are way outnumbered I think they're about to buy it."
Terry saw a familiar face through a gap in a line of crates. "Oh, shit."
"What?"
"Nikolai's here."
"This changes nothing. You can't-"
"Yeah, yeah."
The spacers had their hands up and guns on the floor now.
Was it a double-cross? Assassination attempt? Nikolai was standing up now. He tugged his jacket straight. Terry started slowly working his way around the edge of the room.
Nikolai was saying something. There was a gun in his hand. Aimed.
Now.
Terry shot across the loading bay, knocking the spacer out of the line of fire. Everyone was shooting at him now. Well, that was more or less the natural order of things. If he had any luck at all, this was the spacers' captain and Terry could wring something out of him. Plus, you know, murder bad, rah rah.
"Come on!" Terry shouted at the man he had hold of and whoever was following them. He was a little turned around, but there was Bruce shouting directions in his ear, and there it was, up ahead: an exit.
Three things happened at once then: something tackled Terry to the ground, a shout of victory tore through the air, and there was a very bright light.
Terry was still falling, he realised. Large chunks of antique masonry were tumbling around him. This warehouse was on the waterfront where the old seaport had become the new spaceport. The door he'd been running towards must have originally led out to a row of private piers.
"McGinnis! Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Crappy old construction," Terry replied. He ignited the jets on his feet. "Sea must've been eating away at the foundations. A couple good explosions and there she goes-goushi 1."
No comment from Bruce, who could see Nikolai tumbling towards the waves in the big holo-projector in the Batcave just as well as Terry could. He dove.
"I got him!" Terry shouted, just before a chunk of masonry hit him on the head.
The shock of the cold water brought Nikolai back to consciousness. There was a body on top of him, too dark to see properly. They plunged together through the water until the waves stopped beating them down. For a second, all he could think of was the song that had been running through his mind ever since he aimed the gun at Maitlin. Nikolai shook himself out of it and grabbed the other man around the waist and started swimming. They should still be close to the shore and the piers.
Rock. Nikolai felt at it with his fingers. He crept along, lungs burning for air. There were tunnels, drains, old catacombs: holes in the rock from when the city was younger. He suppressed an impulse to start humming.
Ьыcmро, быстрее, Николай. 2
There. Nikolai scrambled through the opening, dragging his burden limply behind him. In the dark, he ran his face into the stairs. Nikolai kicked upwards, towards the hope of air. He broke the surface, finally, an eternity later. Swimming up the corridor, the tune still echoing in his head, he thought the water was getting more shallow. The ways below Gotham were not level.
He strained in the gloom, always a little further, until suddenly he felt the floor under his feet and his boots plashed through only a few shallow puddles. The sporadic glow of phosphorescent algae wasn't enough to illuminate anything. Now that he had stopped moving, though, Nikolai could tell that the body in his arms wasn't breathing.
He sat down on weak legs and did his best to lay the body flat, face down. Something over his face. Nikolai scrabbled at it until it peeled away and threw it aside. Apply presure on the back, try to push the water out of the lungs. Ещё раз 3. Now roll him over and try CPR. Strong breaths. How long had they been underwater?
Five times, between the ribs, below the sternum. Breathe again. Again. Ещe раз. Repeat.
His lips tasted like the murky, gritty bay water. Nikolai was getting dizzy. It was very dark. The body half-under him was chilled, but it moved at last, a spasmodic gasp for breath that almost sucked all the air from Nikolai's lungs, followed immediately by a kiss that succeeded.
Terry woke up to a mouth on his own, and in the dark between that first, lurching breath and the return of memory, he responded. The lips pulled away, and Terry let his head fall back and opened his eyes.
Darkness. That was wrong for some reason. Without thinking, he flicked on the built-in glo-light on the sleeve...of...the batsuit.
Oooh, crap.
Nikolai Andrejevich Luzhin looked down at him. The damning look of alarm on his face was almost as good as the one on Terry's own must have been. He cursed and vomited up a half-gallon of bay-water. Ew.
Terry stayed bent over for a second to get his face under control when he'd finished. He sat up quickly and refused to be dizzy.
"So you are the Batman," Nikolai said after about two minutes of heavy silence.
"And you're the mole," Terry replied. A quick glance told him his mask was on the floor between them.
Nikolai followed the direction of his eyes. "You were not breathing. We fell into the water, after the explosion. When we arrived here, I was disorientated. The mask was in the way. I did not think what it was until there was light."
Bruce was going to flip a shit, to put it mildly.
"Where are we?" Terry asked.
Nikolai glanced around. "Under the old city. The passages connect to the harbour, and to other places."
"I know."
Even in the dim light, Nikolai looked a little worse for wear. There were a couple raw-looking scrapes along one side of his face and a nasty-looking bump on his forehead, not to mention his suit was trashed.
"It's a good thing we met like this. We'll need to coordinate our efforts."
"I heard about the sting. I suppose that Commissioner Belker was unhappy."
Terry narrowed his eyes. Cool it, he told himself firmly.
"I'd prefer not to compromise your operation, but I can't just leave the Vor alone. They're up to their necks in everything that stinks in this city."
"I know," said Nikolai mildly.
"Then our options are limited."
Nikolai grunted. "I work alone."
Terry smirked humourlessly. "Until they put a bullet through your head. You should keep going up the tunnels. I'll find my own way out."
He picked up his mask and shook some of the excess water out before putting it back on and fished the rebreather out of his belt.
"I'll be in touch," he added. He didn't wait to see if Nikolai was moving yet before he turned back to the water and put the rebreather in his mouth.
"I thought it was a good kiss, too," Nikolai said.
Terry, knee-deep in water, glared at him flatly over his shoulder and dove smoothly down the flight of flooded stairs.
For a minute, Nikolai allowed himself a smile in the dark. Then he turned and, with a hand on the wall, started walking in the opposite direction.
"McGinnis! Terry! Are you all right?" Bruce's voice called urgently almost as soon as Terry started moving. He tapped the communicator on his ear twice to let the old man know he was all right.
"Head back as soon as you can; that should be about enough excitement for one night. Do you need anything?"
Three taps: no.
"All right."
The dark, smooth sides of the tunnel fell away, leaving Terry floating through the bay's murky water. He glanced down at the evil-looking messes rusting on the bottom, then turned his attention upwards.
Activating the call-circuit for the Batmobile, Terry jetted upward to the surface. The storm was still going on. He had just enough time to check his chrono before the Batmobile pulled up next to him in the air. Not quite an hour.
Terry winced as he slid into the seat. Bruce was going to make him scrub out the whole interior now, with a toothbrush.
"Wayne, are you there?" Terry asked once he was moving again, switching on the voice link. Outside the Batmobile's canopy, rain lashed furiosly, blurring the skyscrapers streaking past.
"McGinnis. What happened?"
"Something must have knocked me on the head. I was underwater for a while."
"I see. Did you get the name of the ship?"
Terry banked around the Часы Пдощади 4 and struck out south-west.
"No, it wasn't docked there. I got a pretty good look at some of the crew, though."
"Good. I'll see if I can identify any of them as crew on recently arrived ships using the pictures from the vid-feed. If that doesn't work, we'll do it the old-fashioned way."
"Wonderful. I'm coming in."
The waterfall parted and he was through, ears ringing in the sudden silence, hearing the quiet hum of the engine for the first time since he headed out.
Bruce tapped over to meet him when he jumped out.
"Ah, the sweet waterfront aroma. Brings back memories."
Terry tossed him the Hoover drive. "Something else happened tonight. Tell you once I've showered."
Terry pulled off the mask and walked over to the decon shower. Might as well steam-clean the suit while he was at it.
"-so I went for Nikolai, but I must've got knocked in the head by something because next thing I know, I'm in the old city catacombs and Nikolai's giving me CPR. I turned on the light without thinking. He'd taken the mask off because it was in the way. It was dark, he wasn't thinking; didn't know what it was." Terry stopped pacing and sat down with his head bowed and his hands over the back of his neck, elbows propped on his knees. "The shock circuits must have malfunctioned."
"There was an awful lot of not-thinking going on down there." Bruce's voice was even more ominous than usual.
"I-" Terry started, then slumped. "-I know. I'm sorry."
"You should be, but sorry isn't going to help anything now."
"Look at it like this: at least we have a way of contacting Nikolai under the radar if we need to."
Bruce grunted. "Maybe."
"What, don't you think we can trust him?" Terry asked.
"We'll see; for now, I don't think he can do anything without risking his own cover. Shouldn't you be working on that circuitry?"
Terry glared at him mid-yawn and trudged over to the work-bench.
Terry sleep-walked through his classes again the next day. He really had to find a better way of coping with the sleep-deprivation. Or, who knew, maybe he'd get used to it eventually. It'd only been a couple of months so far.
Long enough for Dana to get seriously pissed at him, at least. The umbrella of his dad's recent death was definitely closing on him.
"Hm?" Terry asked, jerking his eyes back into focus.
"Lunch. The bell rang. Class is over, we go eat. Am I ringing any bells here?"
"Oh. yeah. Sorry. I just got distracted for a second." He stood up and quickly gathered his books.
Dana was tapping her foot impatiently, arms crossed. "Yeah, I always thought that waste-disposal was fascinating, too."
Terry sighed. "Do you want to go to lunch or what?"
"Don't do me any favours, McGinnis," Dana said and stalked out.
Last name. Yowch. Terry was in for it today. He followed her, trying not to feel like he wanted to wring her pale little neck. He didn't, really, it was just-he was as frustrated as she was, and he couldn't tell her. He felt like he couldn't tell her anything anymore, not how he was feeling or why or anything important and that sucked beyond all previous domains of suckitude. Dana had always demanded more than just being loved-it was one of the things Terry really admired about her. Hell, he wouldn't have sat still for half this shit. He wasn't honest or dependable or even fucking awake have the time. She deserved better. But he already missed talking like they had; he didn't want to give up any more.
"Manage to rouse Sleeping Beauty, did you?" Max asked when they sat down.
"Don't know why I even bother. Chelsea, did you hear about Eric and Natalie?"
Chelsea gave Terry a pitying look that made him feel about a centimetre tall before turning away to answer's Dana's question and dropping him from her attention with an audible thunk. Derrick patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
When Terry arrived at Wayne Manor that afternoon, his insane hopes of being able to catch up on some studying were immediately dashed.
"I've been looking at the data you brought back," Bruce said without preamble.
"Find anything?" Terry asked lightly, just because it pissed him off.
Bruce pressed a button on the computer's control board in an impressively quelling manner. A stream of text blinked into existence and scrolled itself obediently to a certain point.
"Looks like a schedule."
"It is. They'll be changing most of it now they know they've been compromised, but ships work on a longer time-scale. They won't be able to alter all their plans."
Hooking one of the chairs with his ankle, Terry straddled it and crossed his arms over the back. "That was the general idea, wasn't it"
"Yes. And in two days, another shipment's coming in."
Terry raised an eyebrow. "Something big?"
"There's a ship going out the next day for Pará."
"Slave-traders," Terry spat. "So much for my Saturday night."
"I want you to be more careful, this time."
"I will be. Is there word on anything going down tonight?" Terry asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.
Bruce grunted, but let it pass. "Couple of bodies turned up, small-time robberies. Nothing unusual."
"Got a plan for Saturday?" Terry leaned forward, balancing the chair on two legs, and pulled up the murder files, just in case.
"I'm working on something. You go ahead and spend a few hours studying."
Joy.
That night was the hell night, the first of them. But after that, after Drusilla and the sick and the crazy, there was still the boat to Pará. The police were in disarray, practically flying apart with the damage control: no one else was watching. Their plan was still half-formed, interrupted like everything else had been. So Terry decided to pay Nikolai a visit. He was so fucking not going to lose this one. Bruce didn't entirely approve, but getting intel from Nikolai was their best bet.
"I'll be in, I'll be out, completely anonymous," Terry argued, unbudging in Wayne Manor's foyer.
He was expecting an argument. Instead, Bruce stared him down with his Batman eyes. "Don't get caught," he said, and walked back inside.
Terry flashed him a sharp smile, the first in what felt like a long time.
"And wear tighter pants," Bruce added over his shoulder.
Terry's brain broke, unpleasantly. "So wrong," he muttered to himself. He had already slung his backpack into one of the sitting rooms, so he turned around and walked out without further delay, to the covered portico where he parked his hoverbike.
Nikolai usually made an appearance at Под Липами 5 on Friday and Saturday nights before disappearing into his limo-or upstairs-to attend to other business. Terry-in tighter pants-waited in line at the side door with the rest of the dregs. When his turn came, the bouncer gave him a once-over and waved him through once he got his cover.
Inside, Под Липами was a mess of grav/antigrav flooring, allowing the big shots to be and not be in the middle of things. The professional dancers floated overhead or off in the middle of empty space, equally inaccessible. Terry felt oddly like a sleep-walker with the bass shuddering through him and the strobing lights making everyone's movements look jittery and alien. This was-well, not exactly like the clubs he and Dana went to, but close enough that he felt weird stalking it. It was like flying through the school hallways in the suit.
The boss floor was probably high- to mid-way up, with a good vantage on the dancing both above and below. Terry tried to relax into the music and make his way into the thick of the dancing. From there, it was easier to make your way upwards, if you knew how.
Partway up, he grabbed a drink from a passing tray and swished a gulp of it around in his mouth to give his breath an authentic gloss of alcohol. He wasn't too worried about what was in it, so long as he didn't swallow.
Terry searched for Nikolai covertly through half-low lashes. There was a patch of light he'd noticed earlier. It was steadier than the rest and there seemed to be less movement in that area. Now he could see men in suits and the muted flash of expensive jewellery reflecting glimmers of the erratic illumination and transmuting them to muted gleams. He made a few quick estimations and decided to move up a couple more levels.
Abandoning the full glass, Terry moved back onto the dance floor. A shift of weight at the right moment and his section of the floor started to float slowly upwards.
Nikolai set his fork down and took another sip of wine before answering Kirill. Kirill was well on his way to being drunk-which, in Nikolai's opinion, was an eminently practical idea for once. These past days had been dark and disturbing, though the events had touched the Vor only on their edges. Kirill, however, would have been drunk anyway.
There were no guests to entertain tonight, only himself and Kirill and Mèi and Cora and Sasha gathered around a few tables. Bors and Gareth and their counterparts hovered discreetly in the shadows.
Kirill went off on a tangent, for the moment dropping Nikolai from his attention. Nikolai stood up and walked over to the edge of their floor and let his eyes wander over the chaotic mass seething on the club's lev-floors. There were shrieks and laughter as one of the segments decided to rise. A face jumped out at Nikolai through the smoke and the schiz lights. In the flickering shadows, there was no mistaking the blue eyes flashing up at him.
"He's pretty," Kirill observed, slinging his arm around Nikolai's neck with his usual familiarity. "You should fuck him."
"Kirill," Nikolai protested quietly.
"You do nothing but work. Have a little fun, yeah?" Kirill thumped him benevolently on the back, eyes tracking Batman speculatively. "Oh well. If you do not want him, perhaps I shall try."
As amusing as that would be to watch, it was most likely a bad idea. Nikolai pursed his lips and made a show of thinking it over. After a suitable period of watching Batman shimmy, he handed his glass off to one of the waitstaff and took a step towards the lift-squares.
"Perhaps I have been working too much," he conceded mildly in response to Kirill's knowing look.
Kirill laughed and let out a whoop of victory.
Foolish boy, Nikolai thought, drifting precisely down to where Batman was waiting for him.
A few of the crowd tried to clear out of his way, but Nikolai waved them down. He was dressed casually, slacks and a slate-blue shirt cut from Húnán silk. Let them think pleasure, not business.
The music was louder down here. Nikolai could feel it pushing at his feet and chest. He threaded his way through the dancers until he found Batman.
Batman's knife-sharp eyes locked on Nikolai's; they were followed a moment later by his arms. He was a good dancer, but Nikolai could feel the locked-up tension in his muscles. Shoulders, back, arms, torso. Well, and after the past few days, who could blame him if this crowd was not the best thing for his nerves?
Nikolai started edging them out of the press, back into the dark and the stationary floors by the walls.
"This is not a wise thing to do," Nikolai admonished.
Batman's smile was like a razor, sharp and slow across the throat. "Terry," he supplied. He hadn't said, the last time they met. He was giving Nikolai permission to investigate, and a place to start. Before, it might have looked suspicious to his people. Evidently, Batman was being serious. Even if Terry wasn't his real name.
Batman slid his arms around Nikolai's waist. He felt something being slipped into his back pocket.
Nikolai leaned in more intimately. "Is that what I think it is?" he breathed dangerously.
"An excuse to go somewhere more private," Batman replied. "I'm not that new at this."
"Really," Nikolai murmured. But this was not the appropriate place for such conversation. He gave Terry a warning look and led him him around to a private exit.
"Shiny place," Batman said, looking around.
There were rooms above the club, of course; and then there were rooms above the rooms. No one was in this corridor except Guido and Alan, who were standing watch.
Nikolai walked confidently down the deep, muffling carpet to the elevator. Alan opened it for them with a respectful inclination of his head.
Batman looked at Nikolai meaningfully in the elevator, but didn't say anything. Upstairs, Nikolai pressed his hand against the palm-lock-it was more difficult to acquire and conceal a man's hand than it was his thumb-on one of four visible, unnumbered doors. It slid quietly open.
"After you," Nikolai said, gesturing graciously. Batman cocked an eyebrow, but went in. Nikolai locked the door behind them. Sound-proofed at least, and safe enough. These rooms weren't bugged, as a matter of course. Nikolai did a quick sweep, then, on impulse, settled himself on the bed.
"You should not have come here." Mistake number one: letting someone else take your initiative.
"I'm stopping the shipment tomorrow night."
Of course he was. Evidently, his eyes didn't require poor lighting to burn like that. It was genuine passion. Or insanity. Mistake two: did he trust Nikolai already, or was his control that much lacking? Nikolai remained silent.
"Just tell me if there's a reason it needs to go through. I want to take people in." His voice, at least was reasonable. Factual and flat.
"Of course, мальчик 6. But I am not going to change the plans. And I am not going to give them to you. There is no reason for you to be here," Nikolai told him mildly.
"You don't have to give me anything. I'm here because we can take these bastards down faster if we work together. You know I have more investigative resources than the cops."
"Мальчик," Nikolai said it again because Batman clearly found it infuriating. Mistake three: know yourself. "You have my record, я уверен. It is not lies. I am not a nice man. This is why I am useful."
"Is as does," Terry replied. "I walk out of here right now, someday this is all gonna be blown wide and the roaches will all go skittering beneath the floorboards. You want that?"
"I look after myself," Nikolai said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. Batman was an unwanted complication.
Batman was still standing, arms folded, looming over Nikolai, whose nonchalance was growing thin. "I don't go away if you ignore me. If your op burns because you're too blinded by your own pride-"
Nikolai was on his feet in a blink, right in Batman's face. Tall.
Batman's mouth set. "You know I'm right!"
"Obviously, no one has taught you wisdom, мальчик."
"This isn't wisdom, it's fucking territorial mafioso bullshit."
"And as a vigilante, you are of course much superior."
"At least I have my priorities straight! Stop being so gorram contrary!' Batman was waving his arms now in sharp, wide gestures. His bangs fell in and out of his eyes. His mouth tasted like Rifle Grease-of course, so had his breath. But Batman's eyes had still been tracking. Now, to be sure, it was hard to say.
Batman clutched Nikolai with fists like clamps. He was still rigid, almost shaking, under Nikolai's hands. Desperate, desperate for something, that kiss said. Their clothes were falling away before Nikolai had time to gather his thoughts again.
They hit the bed and kicked shoes off in every direction. Belts came off, skin met skin. Nikolai stopped for a moment, breathed, ran his hands down Batman's smooth, bare chest.
Beneath him, Batman made impatient noises. He pulled Nikolai down and rolled on top, wriggling out of his trousers.
"Damn...fucking...chùsheng xai jiao de xiang huo 7," Batman cursed. "Lao cong míng de... 8"
Nikolai skimmed his hands up Batman's sides, snuck them around back of his shoulders and just dug his fingers in. Batman shuddered into silence. He kicked his trousers the rest of the way off and leaned into it.
He could do this all night and not get anywhere, Nikolai realised; but it was the work of a moment to persuade Batman onto his stomach. He pressed down on the knots, working his way along Batman's back.
"Nn...don't care. Don't stop," Batman said when Nikolai's rough fingers hesitated on the edge of a bruise. He hissed, but it looked like he was still enjoying himself. Nikolai had seen the news feeds; it was a wonder there was an unbruised inch on him. For his face, Nikolai suspected make-up.
Down the abused length of Batman's back, all the way to his firmly-muscled ass. A judicious application of tongue earned him another string of curses. A jerky sort of shiver; and there, he was starting to relax.
Nikolai continued tongue-fucking the little hole. Batman melted beneath him. It was good to know he had not lost his touch. It had been a while since he'd last done this; it was not the sort of thing the de facto leader of the Vor felt free do to with many bedmates.
Nikolai had two fingers in now as well, stretching. He pulled out and spread more lube on before adding the third. Just fingers now, his other hand back to massaging the loosening knots. Batman was up on his knees and thrusting back onto Nikolai's fingers, which were rubbing against his prostate.
"I want to fuck you," Nikolai told him.
"Unmgh," Batman moaned. "Yes. Do it. I'm ready," he managed a little more coherently.
Nikolai withdrew to fish the condom Batman had slipped into his pocket earlier out of his discarded trousers. Batman flopped over onto his back, one foot flat on the sheets, knee bent, eyes bright and breath coming faster. His cock was long and dark, with precome glistening at the head.
Nikolai realised he'd been staring when Batman crawled forward and took the condom out of his hand.
"Unh," he said intelligently when Batman touched him.
Nikolai pressed their mouths together again. He licked at Batman's lips and, when they parted for him, he worried the bottom one with his teeth.
Batman seized hold of his head, demanding. The kiss took them backwards, Nikolai between Batman's thighs, Batman sucking insistently on Nikolai's tongue.
Nikolai took the hint and positioned himself. He slid slowly through the tight ring of muscle. Batman was making sexy, inarticulate sounds, through which he could distinguish more and Nikolai. His heels were digging into Nikolai's lower back, impaling himself on Nikolai's cock.
So tight, so good. Nikolai groaned. His hips snapped forward and he was in.
He grabbed Batman's bruised hips and thrust, setting a rhythm. Batman didn't quite manage to stifle a shout when Nikolai nailed his prostate and his hips surged upwards in reaction.
"Harder," Batman gasped. "Nikolai."
"Terry," he managed. Did it matter what his name was? Batman's eyes were darker now with arousal, but they still burned him like laser drills. He bent to kiss chapped lips, to feel his breath, the pounding of his heart. Batman clutched his fingers, trapping him. "God, please."
Nikolai reached down and took Batman's dick in his hand. He lasted a few strokes, and then he was shaking and spilling all over their stomachs. The wide, surprised look in his eyes sent Nikolai over the edge after him.
Nikolai leaned down and kissed him lavishly before pulling out. Their kisses trailed off into stillness, intertwined on top of the silk sheets.
Just as he was about to doze off, Batman disentangled himself and slipped out of bed. Nikolai watched through half-open eyes as Batman walked over to the washroom.
"Leaving?" he asked eventually.
"I have other appointments."
Nikolai just gave him a lazy sort of look. Batman used his shirt to smack his thigh reproachfully before pulling it on.
"Later," Batman said.
"We will see." Batman gave him a Batman sort of look.
"There is nothing special about tomorrow night," Nikolai said for some reason he did not quite understand. Batman, half-out the door, did not turn around; but he was swaggering a little as Nikolai watched him disappear out the door.
- - -
[1] Crap
[2] Quickly, quicker, Nikolai
[3] One more time.
[4] Clock of the Square
[5] Under the Linden Trees
[6] Boy
[7] Animal-fucking bastard
[8] Clever old...