~ For gem225. I hope you don't mind that it is a) longer than a
drabble and b) has no plot.
Nightwing strips off his uniform, leaving the pieces scattered on the floor behind him until it is Dick Grayson who steps up to the shower. He's moving slowly because there are aches in his body which will need time and attention to dissipate -- the long hot shower is the first step.
He hears -- senses, or maybe it's just that he knows -- Batman stepping up behind him. Dick pauses just outside the shower door, hands on either side of the doorway. He waits.
There is no instruction, so Dick is about to step into the stall. But then a gloved hand touches him, light as ever, on the small of his back.
His cock has been hard since he got to the cave. This is nothing, doesn't make him harder, doesn't make his breath catch. The touch of a gloved finger on his ass, moving slowly downward, only makes his head fall very slightly forward.
Hands on his ass, now, spreading him apart. Fingers sliding along his skin, pushing their way ever so briefly inside him. He's never been able to wear gloves without getting an erection. Thank god for kevlar jocks, or he'd be useless in fights. One good punch and he'd be down.
The touch is gone and back in a breath, and he can feel the cold slickness of lube. Gloved fingers pressing inside him, and he groans, his head tips farther forward and he has to shift his hands into a firm grip or he's going to take a nose dive into the tile.
His body stretches easily, accommodating as much as Batman gives. Two fingers, in and out, and Dick wants to reach down and grab his cock. He knows that if he lets go of the wall he'll have to use all his attention to retain his balance and he doesn't want to do that. He wants to focus on these fingers, this touch, and this presence behind him. So he leaves his hands where they are and moans sharply whenever he is fucked deep.
The fingers pull away and there is nothing but the hot, heavy scent of himself and the presence of Batman that exists only in his knowledge that Batman will not have gone yet. Dick doesn't move, only catches his breath. His body is aching and he *wants* but he doesn't speak.
Then Batman is there. Pressing against him and sliding in and Dick gasps loudly, and the desperation is embarrassing to hear. But he pushes himself backwards onto Batman's cock, fucking himself as though Batman weren't going to thrust inside him as deeply as he could go.
Dick leans back as Batman pulls away and shoves in again. The heat and sweat of bare skin on skin makes Dick think they might have waited until the shower. But the way Batman is pounding him, holding onto his hips and fucking him hard, tells Dick he should be impressed they made it this far.
He's writhing, now, secure in the way Batman is standing braced against nothing. He wants to fuck himself on Batman, but there's no need -- every thrust jars his body and he knows damn well he won't be any less sore tomorrow. The aches will only be in different places.
Dick's throat tightens up and his head falls back, resting on Batman's shoulder. A long, thin wail starts and he clamps his jaw closed. For only a second -- then Batman thrusts again and his voice flies. Keening, scrambling for the purchase on the doorway he's lost somewhere along the way, feet flat on the floor as though gravity would hold him upright as long as he doesn't lose contact. He knows better; his world is falling apart and he can't hold back the cries and whimpers that echo against the tile of the shower. Sending the noises back, past him, past Batman, and he wonders, with a moment of distraction, whether the sounds can be heard throughout the cave.
Maybe only by the bats. Dick shudders, and Batman puts an arm across his chest, holding him, still fucking him, and Dick shouts, biting back any semblance of syllables. He comes, hard, and Batman is still fucking him -- but only for a moment, then as Dick is collapsing in on himself, Batman is coming inside him.
Dick presses his hands on the shower door, locking his arms against the moment when he feels the entirety of Batman's weight. It's only for the briefest second before it's gone. Then Batman leans away, slides out of him slowly, and Dick knows he should step forward and into the shower. Stand under hot water until he feels like he can survive the journey to his bed without collapsing in an undignified heap on the cave floor.
Or he can do this. He can turn, millimeter by millimeter, until he is facing Bruce. Who smiles at him and strips off his gloves. Who pushes into him instead of past, to reach into the shower and turn the water on.
Dick has never had the courage to kiss him, though he knows it is the only reason he turns around. Bruce puts his bare hand on Dick's chest and pushes, very gently, backwards. Dick moves into the shower and Bruce moves with him, and the steam never quite manages to obscure... anything.