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Dick shivered against the biting Blüdhaven cold, his gaze flitting from one rooftop to the next. It didn't seem to matter, this time of the year, if he wore the winter-lined suit or not. In between fights, his body temperature would drop far enough it left him cold and weary, a little sluggish around the edges. Not that he wanted to admit that fact, but it was just the truth and he was well aware of it. Which was why he compensated, using his eyes to try to pick up the things his senses missed, using his intel and periodic check-ins from Oracle to hopefully make up for the bits he outright missed with everything else.
Still... sometimes he missed things. Which was why when Slade jumped down to stand beside him, he startled slightly. He had his escrima in hand before he knew what to do with himself, his stance lowered, leaving Slade with his hands out placatingly, an amused look on his face. "Sitting around with your thumb up your ass isn't a good luck, Nightwing."
"Fuck you," Dick returned, sighing and putting his escrima back in their holder.
As of late, he and Slade had been on non-fighting terms. Fragile, in a lot of ways, but still a thing they were trying out. Slade kept his business outside of Dick's radar, generally outside of Batman's radar, and it left Dick able to stand his presence on the days he needed to be in Blüdhaven for something. Not entirely ideal, but it worked well enough for the time being. Or at least Dick told himself it did.
"One day I'll show you who would really fuck who, boy." Slade bared his teeth, but it wasn't a real threat, the pull at the corner of his lips giving him away, the mild way he stood, arms crossed, body language at ease.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, old man," Dick fired back before he could think better of it.
In the seconds after, pinned by Slade's arched eyebrows, Dick stammered, "Uh... I... well," and then shook his head. "Right. What did you want anyway?"
"Haven't a clue. I know what I want now thought," Slade purred and Dick's mind clanged with alarm bells. The other half of it whispered sweet sinful things, the ilk of which Dick had spent a good chunk of his time as Robin thinking about. The sum of it kept his feet planted where they were and his mouth closed, every protest dying a pathetic little death in the back of his throat.
Eye gleaming, Slade took a step in, and then another, bringing him right up into Dick's space. One hand reached out, cupped his cheek, gloved finger passing back and forth over the skin just under Dick's mask. "Precious birdie... you should be more careful what you say to big bag villains."
Dick whimpered softly, closing his eyes, utterly unable to keep his desires tamped down where they belonged. It seemed the cold loosened a few screws alongside the way it dampened his senses or maybe he just desperately wanted to blame it on something that wasn't within his control.
Slade took another step, making Dick back up one. Again and again and once more and then Dick's back was flush to the glass wall of the bus stop, the biting cold sinking through his suit near instantly. Slade's warmth pressed right up against his front was a stark juxtaposition, leaving his eyelids hooded, his hands grasping at Slade's wrists, his body uncertain if he should be pushing or pulling, leaving him simply clutching instead.
Slade's lips ghosted over his jaw. "I'm not hearing any protests, boy."
Dick whimpered again and Slade chuckled, dark, deep, full of promise. His traitorous hands pulled Slade in closer. They were in public. In plain view of anyone in the three overlooking apartment buildings who happened to look outside. Right next to the street. Hell, they were standing in the only pool of light that could have possibly made the whole thing clearer. Dick's body didn't seem to give a shit, even if his mind railed against it just the slightest.
Slade leaned in and Dick lifted his face, parted his lips. He couldn't have begged clearer if he'd actually said the words out loud. Soft lips touched his own and in an instant, Dick was clinging, arching, giving as good as he got, the kiss deepening until Slade had a hand in his hair, the other planted on the glass beside him. He lapped at Dick's mouth like he needed Dick just as much in return and the thought spiraled Dick even higher.
When he made another throaty little sound, Slade's control snapped. Between one second and the next, Dick was planted face-first against the glass and expert hands were working the hidden zipper of his suit, peeling it away until he was only technically clothed, his everything on display, his cock hardening in the cold winter air, Slade's gloved fingers searching, spreading, making him pant for every breath.
It seemed impossible when only moments later, the blunt head of Slade's prick pressed against his hole, his breathless promise on the air. "I'm gonna fuck you, boy. Right here where everyone knows I've staked my claim."
The first nudge made Dick tense, and then he felt the slip of something slick, the odd ease slipping through him as Slade's thumb worked against his skin and all he could think was he had some new nerve tricks to learn, for sure. Slade's cock pushed, the very tip of the head opening him just the slightest. It was strained when Slade growled out, "Last chance, boy, or are you letting me fuck you in front of all these watchful eyes?"
Dick shuddered hard, his breath catching. He'd never been harder in his life. Still... he wanted nothing more than to taunt Slade in these moments, see what he'd do. Breathless, he managed, "You wouldn't," in a strangled voice and then, "I fucking dare you."
And just like that, he was full of Slade's cock. Buried deep inside, Slade's hips tight against his ass, both hands curling around the metal supports of the bus stop. An instant later, Dick was crying out, Slade's pace brutal, punishing, faster than Dick had ever experienced in a lover. Again and again, he plunged in and drew back out, hot breath panting against Dick's ear, leaving a chill on his skin with every inhale. Dick's cock strained, aching between his legs, the cool whip of wind against him letting him know he was dripping pre-cum.
Bowing his head, Dick stared down at himself, at their feet, and let himself acknowledge what was happening. Nightwing was being fucked by Deathstroke in the heart of Blüdhaven.
As if his thoughts summoned the unknown, the comm in his ear crackled to life and Jason's voice slipped across the line, an odd edge to his voice. "You good, Goldie? Or is this a thing I need to intervene on? Say the word and he's dead."
Trying to catch his breath enough to talk, Dick returned, "Good," and then on a moan, "so good!" in hopes it didn't tell Slade they were being watched but let Jason know what he needed to.
Jason's chuckle was a little dark, a little fucked up as he shot back, "Guess I'll see myself out. No uninvited guests and all that."
Dick closed his eyes, disbelieving he was about to do this, but he managed a croaked, "Stay," and Slade's, "What was that, boy?" made him moan, "Slade!"
He wasn't entirely sure Slade bought it, but he still chuckled in his ear and railed him even harder, jarring his body forward, his cheek smashing against the glass.
Jason's voice held a different kind of note when he spoke again, the whip of wind clear across the comm line. "Touch yourself for me, Goldie."
Dick moaned, shifted enough to take more of the pressure on one arm so he could slip the other down and circled his cock with his fingers, began to stroke it just for Jason. He was in a fucking mess. Literally. Getting impaled by Deathstroke right out in public view and watched from, presumably, the rooftops by the other person he'd never gotten the guts to tell he wanted was a mess that only Dick Grayson could get himself into. Not that he wanted out of it. No, definitely not that.
His wrist moved faster and Jason's breathing grew more ragged in his ear. Dick wanted to ask if he was jerking off. Wanted to imagine the things Jason was doing while staring at Slade fucking him. He just didn't dare with Slade buried inside him like this.
Slade's hand moved to his chest and then slid up to his throat, gloved hand curling against his skin. "Daddy needs a little something extra, precious." Then his fingers were tightening and Dick's eyes rolled back. His hips bucked, his cock throbbed, and his balls began to tighten. Apparently he needed that something extra, too.
Jason's breathless, "Still good?" made it perfectly clear he was ramping up with them, but was still ready to take Slade's head off if he had to. Dick appreciated the thought, but all he could do was used the rest of his air to moan out something that sounded like yes's distant cousin. Jason seemed to accept it, or at least Dick could abruptly hear the sound of fabric rustling in the age-old way that meant someone was jacking off, hear the way his breath went ragged and needy.
Dick's hand jerked along his cock, his grip harder, his hips bucking, Slade's prick slamming up deep inside him with every backwards jut. Together they were rocking higher and higher until Slade was snarling, "Gonna fill you, boy. Tell Daddy Slade you want it." The hold on his throat eased enough for him to gasp air, for him to nearly sob out, "Please!" and then Slade was bucking against him, grunting, cock throbbing as he filled him up.
Across the line, Dick heard Jason's soft curse and then, "Cumming, Goldie. Cumming for you. You gotta cum for us... know you can, baby." And fuck if that didn't do it. Dick's hips jerked and his breath stopped dragging into his lungs and then he was going so boneless Slade had to hold him up as his orgasm rolled through him, splashing over the glass of the bus stop, across his fist, onto the concrete between his feet.
It was only once he could drag air back into his lungs that he managed to get his legs back under himself. When he did, Slade pulled out and took a step back, fastening up his suit, leaving Dick bare to the cold Blüdhaven air. "If he's going to watch, he gets to clean this up," Slade said, a smirk in his voice. "Be a good boy."
With that, Slade's footsteps crunched away over the cement, leaving Dick shivering and trying to pull his suit back on with numb hands until another warm presence slipped up behind him and gloved fingers batted his out of the way, helping get his suit back in place. "Someone called BPD, we've gotta go." Jason got him dressed, the hidden zipper slid back into place and pushed him stumbling toward the closest building. "Sixth floor, apartment 67B is unlocked. Meet me there, I'll get your DNA off everything in sight."
Dick turned and went. Because he trusted Jason and because he didn't think he had the brain cells left to evade the cops right now. At least not without a second. Inside the building, he slipped into the elevator, sent it to the seventh floor and then used the stairs to go back down a flight and find the right door. Inside, he found it warm and when he peeked, overlooking the scene of his fucked up little crime, meaning he knew exactly where Jason had taken his perch. Perfect view and great aim if he needed to take Deathstroke out.
Standing by the wall heater, Dick warmed his hands until Jason slipped into the apartment and nodded toward the bedroom. Inside, he watched Jason slip open a compartment inside the closet and began to strip when Jason did. He accepted clothing from the slot and watched Jason stow their stuff away. It whirred when it closed and when he shot a questioning look at Jason, he just pressed his finger to his lips and hurried to get dressed.
When he was done, he crouched and peeled back the carpet on the floor of the closet, unhitched a little hatch and pointed at Dick and then down in it. When he stepped forward, Jason breathed against his ear, "Apartment under this one. Just go out like it's your place with your hood up. Meet at my place over the diner."
Dick gave him a little worried look, but Jason shook his head, so Dick went. Slipped inside and listened to the hatch closing and the carpet being put back in place, the closet door closing.
When he popped the hatch open into the apartment below, it was dim, only the outside light giving anything at all. A little blinking wall light inside the closet caught his attention when he dropped down into it and he pressed his fingers to it. It clicked and opened and with a whir, gave Dick all their gear. A little rustling and he found a duffel, which he chucked it all into and sealed it all back up. Yanking his hood up, he tightened the strings, shouldered the duffel, double checked everything was sealed up tight and then left, just like Jason wanted him to.
Half an hour later, he was sitting in Jason's little place over a diner Bruce used to love to bring them to before it'd changed hands, their stuff in the cleaning cycle and Jason's guns sealed away in their hiding place here. Dick knew this place, inside and out. Once upon a time, when he'd been the only one allowed to associate with Jason, this had been the place he was allowed to know about. It looked like Jason still stayed here sometimes, if the half-read book and the actual electronics in the house were any indication.
It took another twenty before Jason arrived, flushed and a little out of breath. He appeared through the front door, something Dick hadn't used and immediately went to wash his hands, then came to flop down on the couch next to Dick. "Had to go out of my way to make sure I didn't get followed. We're good. But let's say there was more than one concerned call over Nightwing's safety tonight."
Dick ducked his head, cheeks a little warm. All he could say was, "I bet," which left Jason snorting.
"Aww, Goldie's all embarrassed and shit. Gets his tight little ass fucked and lets the black fucking sheep of the family watch and then gets all flustered after the fact." Jason laughed, leaning in to butt his shoulder against Dick's own. "Don't think you can be embarrassed anymore, pretty boy."
"Shut up," Dick murmured, though even he couldn't miss the affectionate way he said it or the way he felt a crazy little bit proud of what had transpired.
"Careful," Jason murmured, sobering a little. "I'll think you wanted me to see you."
"Didn't exactly plan it," Dick returned, staring distantly at the coffee table, the stack of magazines with a name Dick didn't recognize on the address label. "Didn't exactly mind it, either."
"That I could tell. Do you have any idea how much you left me cleaning up?"
Dick made a strangled sound and Jason's breath tickled his ear as he breathed, "So much, Goldie. Just... so much. Fuckin' everywhere."
"Careful," Dick returned, a little breathy, "Or I'll think you want me."
Jason's chilly fingers pressed to Dick's jaw, his lips a whisper across Dick's skin. "Oh... that's not in question. But I don't take sloppy seconds, so not tonight."
Dick couldn't hide his smile or the way he leaned toward Jason. "This is fucked up."
"Goldie..." Jason's smile against his jaw was obvious even if it wasn't in the tone of his voice. "We're all a little fucked or we wouldn't be risking our necks for a couple a cities that don't give a fuck most of the time."
"Fair."
Teeth nipped his jaw and then Jason pulled away. "Stay here, get warm and clean and shit. There's shit in the fridge and the pantry if you want it. I've got places to be."
Dick watched as Jason dug out a second costume, stripped right in front of him and tugged it all back on without a single hint of giving a shit that Dick was openly staring at him. He checked his guns, slid them into his holsters, and then headed for the window. On the ledge, he turned and flashed a grin back at Dick. "When I fuck you, it won't be in public, but I promise you'll remember it." With that, he was gone, only the open window as evidence he'd been there at all.
Shaking his head, Dick crossed the room and sealed it back up, stood there for a long moment, letting it sink in what he'd done and how he really felt about it.
By the time he turned away and went to make himself a sandwich out of what Jason had stocked the fridge with, he'd made peace with three buildings full of people seeing him get railed by Deathstroke. He'd play it however he needed to for the public and roll it up however Bruce needed it neatly tied in a bow to accept it once he got wind of it, if he already hadn't. Dick's life had always been a little sloppy and this was just another annotation in the end matter in the grand scheme of things.
He took a bite of his sandwich, rested his hip against the counter, and gave himself permission to keep this as a good memory, no matter whatever else happened.