Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Dick wakes up it isn’t with a start. But it isn’t slowly either. He is not a heavy sleeper but he isn’t as light a sleeper as Bruce is or half the people he considers family, if they sleep at all. But even asleep his body is very aware of his surroundings and shifts in it. And something is off. So the first thing he does is keep his breathing even to not show that he isn’t asleep anymore. The second thing he does is assess the situation.

Someone else is in his bed, but probably not someone who presents any danger to him. To begin with they wouldn’t be trying to cuddle up to him and also if they were he reckons he’d already be in a fight. And he’d probably have woken up far earlier.

It’s someone he knows and by the body size it’s neither Babs or Donna. Not Damian or Tim either. It’s not Jason either, because he wouldn’t try to be stealthy if he ever drops by just for cuddles. It’s definitely not Bruce. 

There are a few other people he rules out when large, strong arms gently wrap around his waist. Strong hands slide over his belly and warm fingertips tentatively draw circles on his skin.

Dick doesn’t react. For now.

It’s the smell in the end that firmly solidifies his conclusion on who is in his bed. That peculiar mix of regular fabric softener - nothing like the expensive stuff Alfred swears by - and hint of ozone that clings after a thunderstorm.

He smiles to himself and pretends for a while longer to be asleep. Maybe it would have fooled other people but he knows it likely doesn’t fool his visitor, but for now Clark with all of his supersenses plays along and doesn’t say anything either.

Instead he kisses Dick’s exposed shoulder, his lips trailing down his arm and back. His fingers hesitantly trailing upward over Dick’s pecs and his chest.

Clark seems to want to take his time with him, mapping out Dick’s body, cataloging every patch of skin, every scar and mole and little detail like he wants to commit it all to memory not just by sight but by touch as well. 

Dick lets him, slightly bemused and slightly humbled by the intensity of Clark’s focus on him. Clark’s touches grow a bit more confident with every minute and Dick simply enjoys the attention being paid to him, especially when Clark carefully shifts him on his back to be able to scatter more kisses along his torso before moving downward.

While Dick himself hasn’t moved, one part of his body is definitely showing a growing interest in the situation, reacting on its own accord, starting to tent Dick’s boxers. However, Clark seems determined to avoid that particular part for the moment. He scatters more gentle kisses along Dick’s left thigh and down to his knee. All of them butterfly soft, a touch so soft Dick barely feels it, if he wasn’t also very aware of his own body. Almost as if Clark wants to avoid waking him up, which makes something fond tighten in Dick’s chest.

With Clark focused on his lower body, just not necessarily where Dick needs him to focus sooner rather than later, he allows himself to watch Clark through half-lidded eyes. He isn’t wearing his Superman costume, instead he is dressed in a simple dark shirt and comfortable, worn-out sweatpants that Dick is determined to get him out of soon. Clark isn’t wearing his Clark-Kent-Ordinary-Journalist glasses either and a stray strands of hair fall over his forehead. 

He looks cute. 

Maybe Dick will tell him that later. For now he just watches and feels a thrill run through him of being allowed to see Clark like this. Stripped of the veneer he puts on for most of the world to see, even if most of it isn’t a mask, just another aspect of him, but very few get to see this facet of Clark, of Superman. Dick feels honored to be shown that side so freely, especially since he knows a thing or two about masks and who to allow to see under the multitude of them that he wears especially when out of costume.

There are patches of sunlight streaming through his curtains, the sun reaching its zenith for the day. It had been a long night for him and Dick itches to roll into one of the spots to chase away the parts of that night that still linger in the periphery of his memory. But that would require him to give away the game and he itches some more to see where this goes.

Clark carefully lifts his calves, looking at the fresh bruise there as if he could make it disappear just with thought alone, instead he breathes another kiss on it to make it better. Dick allows himself a smile and lets his eyes drift fully shut again. 

Clark kisses his way up the other leg, his breath ghosting over Dick’s skin, his lips brushing over the sensation with barely much more pressure. The careful gentleness is making Dick even more aware of Clark’s strength and how much control he has over it. A thought that makes the blood rush to his cock even more.

Clark presses a kiss to Dick’s hipbone, covered only by the thin material of his boxers. His fingers brush against the waistband, as if he is thinking about pulling it down, but hesitant to do so. Dick nearly gives up the little ruse they have going on right then and there. In the end it’s Clark who breaks the spell of the not exactly sleeping beauty sleep.

“May I?” 

He is so painfully polite, Dick can’t help the small laugh escaping him.

“Yeah, go a head .” 

Clark gives him a look and Dick grins back at him. 

But Clark doesn’t need to be told twice and as much time as he took before Dick’s boxers are gone in less than a second. So are Clark’s clothes. Dick lets out another delighted laugh. The advantage of having a lover with superspeed.

“Okay wait a second,” Dick holds him back, despite how done he is with waiting for more to happen. It’s just one little thing though. He wiggles himself into the spot where sunlight hits his bed. Clark looks at him slightly amused and very aroused. This way of being woken up definitely had its perks and Dick is going to reap some more.