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It's been years since Dick got to fly properly, since he'd jumped from one bar to another on the trapeze. Nothing but a net to catch him if he falls.
He misses the rush. The adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Grappling hooks just aren't the same. They can't even compare, but a sex swing.... Well, it has it's own positives, especially with a blind fold.
Bruce likes him all folded up too. His legs twisted in some insane position. Dick did his best, wrapping himself up in the silks hanging from the ceiling. Both legs secured in their position, partially bent to force his ass out. His arms tied neatly behind his head, unable to move.
He's made himself a proper gift, wrapped up all pretty and left in Bruce's room for him to find. A little gift for the big man right before the holidays start. Something intimate. Personal.
Exactly what a real boyfriend might do. Might offer, after a long night of patrol.
It's a bastardized version of the gesture, off course. A parody of the sweet relationship they put on for the press. Dick has never been the bashful young boytoy, not any more than Bruce is actually an indulgent sugar daddy.
But it's a hell of a lot better than being a cop. As Bruce had pointed out on numerous occassions now.
The deal is simple, Bruce Wayne needs a partner. A pretty face to hang off his arm at his galas and keep the hoards of gold diggers off his back. Preferably without causing any major blowback.
Easy enough. All Dick wants is to fund his extra curricular activities without selling his soul to the Bludhaven Police Department, so it works out for them both.
Not that he'll complain about the side benefits either. All the new toys Bruce gives him are great. The database access too. Batman has the best gear after all. Every vigilante on the planet knows that and now Nightwing has his own to match.
What Dick likes the best though, what inspired this little gift of his... was their friendship. The long talks getting drunk together after the galas. The banter during midnight patrols.
He knows Bruce Wayne better than anyone else on the planet now - save Alfred, of course. They'd even attended one of his daughter's performances in the Nutcracker together the week before.
This will go well. Dick is sure of that. He settles into the silks crisscrossing under his back and takes a breath, flexing his muscles. Once, twice, just enough to get him swinging really.
Dick sighs, tossing his head back. A smile splits his lips. His body swings a bit more when he arches his back. The half hard cock bouncing off his stomach swelling when air cuts across his bare flesh.
Always so sensitive, his skin. Always pebbling under the rush of wind. Nerves buzzing as he flew through the air.
If that wad any indication, this would be quite the treat for him too. A gift to himself.
When Bruce walks in, he immediately chokes and Dick has to bite his tongue to stop from laughing. The older man's sputtering far too amusing even without the visual. But Dick stays in character.
"Do you like your present, Brucie?" Dick chirps, voice extra sweet. "I wanted to make sure I got my favorite fake boyfriend something he'd really enjoy." Feet shuffle by the door before it clicks shut.
"What're you doing?" Bruce clears his throat and Dick rolls his eyes beneath the blindfold. Voice thick, Bruce exhales, "This isn't... we're not actually dating, Dick. You don't need to-"
With another eye roll, Dick cuts him off, purring, "Of course not." He lays it on thick. "But you've been all pent up, playing the Big Bat," Dick wiggles his ass, "So I thought you could use a side kick tonight, to help relieve the pressure."
He knows the second it clicks. The drunken confession bubbling up in his memory. Bruce inhales, sharply. His words almost whinny, "Fuck, Dick, you can't hold what I said that night against me!"
"I'm not holding anything, B," Dick chuckles and he flexes again, letting his legs spread as wide as he can get them with the silks. "I can't, but... I wouldn't mind if you held something against me instead," he says. His body swaying, swinging in the middle of Bruce's bedroom. His hips rising up when his legs drop into the splits.
The ceiling already had the reinforcements necessary. The hook. Dick had only had to set it up, to deliver Bruce his deepest, darkest fantasy. Something he'd obviously prepared for ahead of time.
Something Dick was more than happy to provide, to give him.
"You'll be gentle, won't you, Bruce?" Dick lets his voice go higher, lighter, almost breathy, "You know I've never been with a man before... not like this..."
"Dick..." Bruce groans. He knows its a lie. A part of the game. His fantasy.
If they'd met when Bruce was younger, when Dick first started his vigilante career. A proper protege for Bruce to teach.
For Bruce to corrupt.
They've had far too many drunken hook ups for Bruce to ever buy Dick as an actual virgin, but they both know he likes to pretend. Likes to imagine it.
Bruce Wayne and his big, bad dick corrupting the sweet, innocent Dick.
It's laughable, but Bruce finally touches him then. Warm palms wrapping around his calves, grazing down to his thighs. His ass. Bruce squeezes his cheeks.
"You're made for it, Dickie," Bruce breathes out, fingers digging in to the plump flesh when Dick let's his legs rise back up. Bruce hums, "Your cute, little ass is perfect."
"How... how will it all fit?" Dick continues, tongue heavy in his mouth when Bruce slips both thumbs into his ass. He pulls the rim wide and Dick clenches.
Another groan. Grip tight. Bruce almost chokes again, when the lube trickles out.
Metal clicks as Bruce undoes his belt and Dick shivers. The zipper rips through the air. He takes a breath, forcing himself to relax, to stay calm.
Bruce is big, but not in length. He makes up for it in girth. A thick cock that practically splits him in half when Bruce thrusts past the rim. One sharp motion.
Cursing, Bruce stills when he bottoms out. Dick pants. His mouth hanging open as the tip of Bruce'a cock skims across his prostate. Teasing it, but not quite touching. Not yet.
"Wow, B," Dick gasps out, licking his lips, "That feels so good. It's like you're nestled deep inside me." He clenches, squeezing around Bruce's cock when he moans, "I've never felt so full before!"
That does the trick. Dick is bouncing mid-air in moments, Bruce slamming into him again and again. Rhythm quick, desperate.
His prostate gets a few proper taps, but mostly, it's little more than a graze. A brush of flesh against his own, like the air cutting across his chest, tickling his skin.
Every thrust splits him a bit more. Bruce's shaft pulsing as he grows close, his thick member pushing past his rim again and again. A slick squelch creating a chorus of sweet music as their bodies slap together.
This, this is flying. Teetering on the edge. Utterly at the whim of some great force, all of his senses narrowed to the way his body moves through the air.
One wrong move will send him crashing to the hard floor. Dick moans.
The adrenaline is pumping, his heart hammering. Bruce growls. His pace picks up, grip bruising on Dick's hips as he maneuvers Dick into a new position.
Nearly folded in half, Dick moans when the next thrust has Bruce's head pushing at his prostate properly. Just enough pressure. Just enough to send a zip of pleasure up his spine. The heat coiling in his gut suddenly taut.
Bruce orgasms first, filling one condom and then another. A short break between for Dick to hang in the air with his nerves buzzing and chest heaving.
When the soft teasing at his prostate and the air cutting air finally send him over the edge, Dick crashes hard. His eyes rolling back, vision white. His whole body practically convulsing as he orgasms.
Coming back to himself, Dick finds that Bruce has unmasked him. He blinks slowly, adjusting to the faint lights Bruce has kept low, just for him.
So considerate, his fake boyfriend. Dick manages a soft smile while he floats in the bliss of their post-coital haze.
Bruce left him in the air, the silk still wrapped around his limbs. If he wants, Dick can release himself, tug on the safety knot. But he doesn't.
He likes this, hanging in the middle of Bruce's room. The faint sounds of the man's children floating up from downstairs.
Wayne Manor is rarely empty, and never quiet. Dick likes that too. It reminds him of home, of Haley's. His parents. The life he'd had before, the life he should have.
The apartment he has back in Bludhaven is far too empty - too quiet - in comparison.
And when he pulls the knot free, Dick has no reason to stay. Nothing to keep him here. His little gift delivered. Finished.
Dick blinks back a few tears and squeezes his eyes shut. He inhales, slow and deep, clenching and unclenching muscles to make himself move again. To keep his only fantasy going, his poor impression of flying.
"Need help?" Bruce asks, his voice quiet, and Dick startles. His eyes snap open just before Bruce touches him.
They stare at one another, Bruce's hand hovering an inch from his face. Nearly cupping his cheek. Nearly.
Yet another facsimile of affection. The dregs of whatever lingers between them when the masks come off.
Batman and Nightwing. Brucie and Dickie.
Something in Bruce's eyes hardens, his gaze sharp as it narrows on Dick's face.
The hand lowers, but it doesn't retreat. Bruce cups his face in one hand while the opposite arm slips beneath his back.
Trembling in his hold, Dick swallows. He blinks back more tears and Bruce's thumbs swipes beneath his eye.
It's been a long time since anyone has cradled him in their arms. Dick can't even remember the last time, in fact, outside of sex and medical emergencies.
Neither of which apply here. Not once Bruce tugs the release. He cradles Dick close to his chest and pulls him free from the silks, carrying him into the bathroom.
Bruce keeps cradling him, long after he has any reason to do it. Dick doesn't need any help to shower. He knows where everything is, how everything works, can get the spare clothes he keeps in Bruce's bottom drawer without help.
And yet, Bruce holds him in the shower, cradling Dick in his lap while they sit under the spray. He's diligent in his attention. Affectionate. His touch soft as he cleans Dick up, washes his hair.
The fact Bruce does it right speaks volumes.
"What're you doing?" Dick parrots Bruce's words back at him, brow furrowing, "We're not actually dating, B. You don't need to take care of me."
"Maybe I want to," Bruce huffs, cradling Dick in his arms again once they're on the bed. He shifts, leaning back against the headboard, so he can properly wrap his arms around Dick's frame.
Ducking his head to Bruce's shoulder, Dick cuddles closer. He drags his legs up and in. Bruce chuckles and brushes his fingers through Dick's hair.
"Why complain if you're enjoying it?" Bruce asks and Dick's face flushes with color, cheeks burning. Bruce clicks his tongue. "I'm enjoying it too," he admits, words gruff and awkward, "In case that wasn't clear."
"It is," Dick whispers. He noses at Bruce's collarbone, sniffling, "This is... this is nice."
His hand settles on Bruce's chest as the man continues to comb his fingers through Dick's hair. The steady thump of his heart a lullaby in Dick's ear.
"You could stay," Bruce says softly. Dick hums, eyelids already half closed. He tries to lift them, to blink himself awake.
All he manages is a faint wrinkle of his nose and a vague, "Huh?"
With a sigh, Bruce tries again and his heartbeat picks up. "You could stay," Bruce says, slowly, "Here, at the manor, I mean."
Dick does blink himself awake then, his head rising up when he startles at the offer. His eyes widen as he takes in the blush spreading across Bruce's cheeks.
"The children like you," Bruce clears his throat, averting his eyes, "Alfred thinks you're a positive influence." His cheeks grow redder. "You mellow me out, apparently." Dick's lip twitches up.
"Pretty sure that's just the sex," Dick drawls. He grins, laughing lightly, "Though I'll admit it is pretty mindblowing."
Bruce's ears get red when he's embarrassed. It's a rare sight. Dick relishes it, reaching out to trace a finger over the curve. His own face flushing.
"Is this... so you mean, tonight? Or..." Dick trails off, throat bobbing. His gaze drops to Bruce's chest when he looks back him.
He can still feel Bruce's heartbeat. His now racing pulse thumping loudly beneath Dick's palm. Dick's other hand drops crom the ear, knuckles skimming over Bruce's jaw as he starts ro ramble.
"I'm not against it, either way," Dick spits out, laughing nervously, "I haven't lived with anyone in a long time. Since I aged out of the system. I can be a bit much, a bit annoying-"
"You're not annoying," Bruce cuts him, forehead wrinkling. He scowls and Dick glances up at him, eyebrow arching.
Bruce has called him annoying on several occassions. His high energy, his insistent optimism. Dick likes to spin everything into a positive. Find the silver lining.
It's how he survives. How he's managed, all these years, taking hit after hit.
"You're not any more annoying than I am," Bruce amends with a huff. He tugs Dick back against his chest.
Dick yelps, catching himself on Bruce's shoulders. Their heads nearly knocking together, before Bruce does it himself, touching their foreheads together.
"I am asking you to move in," Bruce says it slowly, enunciating each word. Clarifying. He holds Dick's gaze and cradles his face in both hands, "I want you to move in."
Nodding, Dick manages a shaky smile. His head bobbing up and down as he croaks, "Yeah, okay."
He doesn't bother to blink back the tears this time and Bruce swipes at his cheeks. A warm smile rising on his lips, "If you're comfortable, you can move in before the holidays. Spend them at home, with all of us."
Bruce leans in to steal a kiss. Soft and chaste. Slow. But Dick quickly deepens in, sucking at Bruce's bottom lip, his tongue.
Hannukkah starts tomorrow, and then it'll be Christmas. New Year. The Waynes celebrate Kwanzaa too.
There's absolutely no time for him to move in before the holidays, but Dick has no doubt Bruce will make it happen. All the logistics, his lease, everything.
He straddles Bruce properly. A familiar bulge nestled between his cheeks when he snakes his arms around Bruce's neck. Hands settle on his hips as Dick starts to rock them, grinding down on his favorite little dick.
"Now..." Dick purrs, pulling back, just for a moment, grinning ear to ear, "Does this make me your real boyfriend now? Or your live-in fuck buddy?"
Bruce chokes on his laugh and they roll sideways, wrestling for a moment, until it spirals into something more. Something slower. Dick shudders when Bruce's brings him to completion in his bed for the first time. Their bed.
The high of that ecstasy carries him all the eay to breakfast in the morning, where he stops abruptly. Five identical smirks greet him when he enters the dinning room and Dick blushes when Bruce's eldest breaks the silence.
"Well, well, looks like Bruce finally got the balls to ask you, huh?" Jason drawls, his gaze flicking over Bruce's shoulder. His grin toothy. "Or did the old man just tire you out last night droning on about his plans for the new charity fund?"
"Oh, what new charity fund?" Dick quirks a brow. He glances over his shouldee and the children barely manage to stiffle their laughter. Damian doesn't bother.
Hands slam on the table as the youngest rises to his feet. Dick startles, head snapping back around as a scowl settles on them. A familiar scowl, set in a much younger face.
"Don't distract him!" Damian snaps, nostrils flaring as he growls, "He promised not to take the coward's way out again." Bruce groans and pinches at the bridge of his nose when his son barks out, "Are you staying or not, Grayson?"
"I am!" Dick chirps, actually bouncing on the balls of his feet. His smile so wide his cheeks hurt. A whoop rises up. Several cheers. Damian actually smiles.
It's Duke who hugs him first, quick to welcome him to the family. His own broad smile on his face. "Did you like the ring then?" Duke asks, eyes bright, "He took forever picking it out!"
Bruce chokes and Dick whirls on him, eyes wide, "What ring?" The room goes silent. Bruce freezes when Dick narrows his eyes on him, "Bruce?"
"You'll, uh, find out later," Bruce mutters, averting his gaze as he practically runs from the room, leaving Dick alone with his children. His now fully rabid children.
Whatever supposed plan Bruce had for the proposal - on the last night of Hannukkah, before a shared patrol - it's entirely ruined by the orchestrated chaos of his children. Damian finds the box within an hour and shoves it at Dick while his brothers physically drag Bruce into the room.
"He would like you to join the family, formally," Cassandra is the one to actually ask. Her voice soft, light, when Dick opens up the little jewelry box. "Will you?"
It's a beautiful ring. Old. A proper family crest twisting around the central stone. A sapphire, rather than a diamond. Tim happly lists out all of the details while they wait for him to answer. The history behind one of Martha Wayne'a favorite rings.
Dick catches Bruce's eye across the room. He blinks back tears when the man nods. Both of their smiles hesitant.
"I, uh, hope this answers your question from last night," Bruce clears his throat and runs a hand through his, "About... about what we'll be, going forward."
Pinching at his arm, Dick is surprised when he doesn't wake up. When this fantasy doesn't fade away to leave him alone in his bed back in Bludhaven.
Instead, he's staring out at six waiting faces. Eager and nervous alike.
A laugh slips from his lips when Dick glances back at the ring. The offer. He nods sharply, slipping the sapphire onto his finger. His voice shakes when he finally answers, "Yes."
For the first time since he was nine, Dick has a family. A home. The children rush him and they all crumble to the floor, a pile of limbs and laughter.
Bruce smiles from across the room, leaning against a chair as he takes it in. Behind him, Alfred is directing several movers bringing boxes. Their eyes meet and Dick beams. His arms full with a demanding ten year old and an overcited teenager.
He's home, just as Bruce promised. Home for the holidays.