?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Mama Deb
mamadeb
.:::.:....... ..::...:
Mama Deb [userpic]
Happy Birthday, Cereta (A touch late)

Nightwing/Jericho (DC Comics) NC-17



Dick could not keep his eyes off of Jericho's hands. He told himself that he had to watch them, or he wouldn't understand what Jericho was saying, or why he'd dragged Dick away from the others. The others who were still celebrating a victory over the Terminator.

Over Jericho's father. Who had muted him. Which was why Dick was watching Jericho's hands talk for him.

Except that they weren't just talking. They were dancing with a grace he'd never seen before, not even when he watched his parents perform.

The dance stopped. Jericho looked at him. Those eyes. He'd only seen another man with eyes like those - an infinity of darkness and pain, but with a light shining through them.

He shouldn't think about Bruce.

Jericho was still looking. Oh, right. An answer. "Of course, Joseph. You can stay here. You're a Titan now. I'll arrange quarters for you, and a stipend if you need it. And. Clothes."

He touched his hand to his lips, and then he smiled. The smile reached his eyes, too.

Dick was no stranger to beauty. He'd grown up with a man women fought over.

Don't think about Bruce.

And he grew up with his fellow Titans, who turned heads in or out of costume.

No, he was no stranger to beauty. But Jericho's blond elegance and expressive eyes captured him. And his hands danced, and Dick was too dazzled to understand what they said.

He thought he was mostly attuned to women these days. That Kory was his destiny. He was wrong, maybe on both counts. And he held out his hand. "Come. I'll show you where your quarters are."

Jericho took his hand, and kissed the knuckles, and his smile changed. And Dick knew just what he wanted.

"Better yet, Joseph. I'll show you mine." And he let Jericho take his hand and he led him to his rooms in the tower. He knew they were a mess. He knew that the bed wasn't made and the sheets needed changing, and the Alfred would chide him for bringing a guest there, but Alfred wasn't there. Which was probably why the place was like that.

But Joey didn't seem to notice or care. As soon as the door closed, he pulled Dick to him and started kissing him. And Dick let himself be lost in those lips, lips as expressive in their own way as Joey's hands - gentle and demanding at the same time. He responded to their pressure, to Joey's tongue, murmuring nothing sounds as Joey's hands roamed his body over the new skintight costume.

And with that as permission, he started removing Joey's - the cape and the jerkin and the tights, exposing the beautiful man to his sight, just as Joey's dancing hands rendered him naked, kissing him without a noise at all.

And then he broke apart, leaving Dick to moan slightly, and his hands spoke. Dick was surprised at the request, but nodded, and looked his fill - Jericho's body was as beautiful as his face, with long smooth muscles and a perfectly formed butt, plus, rising out of a nest of golden curls, a positively elegant penis that Dick knew would fit where ever Jericho wanted it to go.

And then Joey turned off the lights. Dick reached out for him in the darkness, and pulled him towards the bed, and surrendered as fully as he could to Joey's fingers and Joey's mouth.

In silence, they tangled together on his bed, kissing each other all over, learning each other by touch and tongue. At one point, Dick's lips brushed over the scar at Joey's neck and stopped, but Joey, with a touch, let him know that he wasn't hurt or bothered, anymore than Dick was about all the scars that covered his body.

Except his was the honorable legacy of fighting crime since before he learned algebra, and Joey's was the legacy of a mad father. And Dick's scars were all on the surface, unlike Joey's or...this was definitely not the place to think about him.

Instead he kissed the scar again, and nibbled his way down Joey's chest, through the light dusting of curls his fingers told him was there, and then to the nipples on either side. Joey's hands stroked his shoulders, his back, down to his rear - long, strong strokes that made him shiver and kiss Joey all the harder. This silent all-but stranger knew him better, fit him better, than he could have imagined.

And then Joey's fingers dipped between his cheeks, and Dick could barely hold back a gasp. He did jerk a bit, and was rewarded by a kiss on his forehead.

It had been a long time since Dick had been with a man. He was tight, and a little nervous, but Joey knew what he was doing, and it wasn't long before Dick was reduced to quivers and harsh breathing at his touch.

He wanted to reciprocate. He wanted to take Joey's cock in his hand or his mouth but when he reached down, or tried to shift position, he was stopped by a single touch, while the sensations elsewhere never stopped. He became lost in pure touch - the only sounds were his own heartbeats and Joey's soft breathing, the only sight the darkness beneath his eyelids. There was only Joey's dancing fingers and the sheets, and Dick knew nothing else.

He was moments away from orgasm when Joey moved. Next thing he knew, Joey's entire length covered him - more than covered him because Joey was taller. Dick was used to that, used to a world where even the ladies were larger than life, larger than the son of acrobats. Now he was grateful, because it meant there was no where without Joey.

And then Joey moved, aligning them, both of them hard and needy. The scent of pure arousal filled the air, and Joey was kissing him again, and moving against him, his hands next to Dick's on the bed, close enough to grab hold, to weigh Dick down if he so chose.

Dick knew he'd let him if he did. Dick hated being bound. Too many memories, too many times too close to death. But he'd let Joey, whom he'd barely met, hold him down. And he didn't worry. He just let the friction build, while Joey used his silent tongue to drink in the small sounds Dick could not help making, as if to absorb what his father had stolen from him. And so it was that Dick screamed into Joey's mouth when he finally came, his orgasm ripping through him like a knife. And Joey released his mouth and began to jerk quickly, his body stiff, and then his seed gushed over Dick's body to sound of gasps and nothing more, before collapsing onto the bed next to him, his breaths in counterpoint to Dick's.

There was a dirty shirt somewhere at the side of the bed. He groped for it, used it to wipe the worst of the semen off their bodies, and then found and pulled up the blankets to cover them both. Joey turned and gathered dick in his arms, letting Dick rest his head on his chest.

His dreams that night were full of dancing hands instead laughing faces with too wide smiles, or the sound of bats.

Comments

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!

Very nice. The hands and the smile and the not thinking of Bruce...loved it.

I'm so glad you liked it.

Have to say writing two of the most beautiful men in DC was a lot of fun - and so was the challenge of a mute character.

Guh.

Seriously. Thank you. It's so nice to see this pairing again, by someone who knows the canon. Public feedback when I'm coherent. :)

I wish I knew more canon, actually. I've only seen the two reprint TPBs, and, of course, the current stuff.

But the slash was there from the beginning. And that's not counting either costume. Both of which are so, so, so gay. I much prefer Dick's current elegantly streamlined uniform. Which is probably the best costume in current comics.

IMHO

You fake it well. ;)

Oh, man, it's so true. Joey's costume was *flaming.* And I agree about Dick's current one. Simple, stylish, sexy.