Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce had never intended for anything to happen. He wasn’t interested in children, or men, really. But somehow he couldn’t help but notice Dick. The way he moved, graceful muscle utilized with neat precision. His big blue eyes and pouty lips and bright laugh. 

And Robin wasn’t a child, anyway. Robin was Batman’s partner, in all the ways that mattered. They were family: brothers in arms, parent and child, best friends. 

Still, Bruce was content to leave things be, Dick had barely even reached puberty, had shown little interest in girls or sex, and had blushed adorably when Bruce sat him down to give him the Talk. 

So no, it had not been Bruce’s choice to touch Dick, to hurt and mar him like a predator ravaging a downed gazelle. 

Poison Ivy had been a surprise, a new chemical weapon thrown into the chaos of Gotham’s underworld. 

Robin had gone down first, startled by the dust that she blew in his face, and in his concern, Bruce had gotten careless enough to be tagged as well. 

They hadn’t had an antidote yet, wouldn’t be able to synthesize one for far too long after that, when the death count was already unacceptable. 

They already knew that the pollen was lethal if left unchecked, that the only way people had seemed to survive it was by engaging in sexual intercourse. 

Bruce could not let Dick die, and he didn’t know how much time they had before things went too far to be salvageable. If he were thinking clearly, Bruce might have found an alternative. 

As it was, Dick was already whining, squirming where Bruce had held him against his chest, allowing the villain to get away while he rushed them out to the batmobile, intending to take them back to the cave. 

Dick had clung to him, all flushed cheeks and parted lips, panting and whimpering as he burrowed deeper into Bruce’s hold. 

“B,” Dick whined, “It hurts, I don’t— what do we do?” He sounded scared, and Bruce could not lose him. It started as an attempt to get the pollen off of their skin, using wet wipes to clear the powder from Dick’s small face, before stripping the contaminated clothing from his body. Maybe the less contact they had with the pollen the better the outlook might be as far as reducing the strain on the body.

Dick’s legs jerked, his small cock hard and leaking between his legs when Bruce yanked his bottoms off. He was utterly dwarfed by Bruce, curled up in his lap in the back of the batmobile as it rushed them back to the cave on autopilot and having that small body pressed up against him was enough to make him groan. 

He lay Dick down across the leather seats, making him whine at the lack of contact, breathy and desperate. His skin was flushed with fever, his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment and arousal.

Bruce bagged Dick’s suit to deal with later, once they were out of danger.

“B,” Dick whimpered, “What—?” he didn’t fight when Bruce maneuvered him, his legs spread open wide. Dick averted his gaze, flustered and shy at being so exposed, but he stayed where Bruce put him, not even trying to close his legs. Trusting Bruce to take care of him

He was perfect. 

Bruce wasn’t strictly proud of the fact that he had lube on hand, he had had it since Poison Ivy had first shown up, but he hadn’t really intended to use it like this. He stripped off his gauntlets, eager to get his hands on that warm skin. 

Dick made another one of those startled squeaks when Bruce pressed in between his legs, his voice breathy as he warbled out a pitchy “Stop!” When Bruce’s fingers wrapped around his small cock. 

“Shh,” Bruce tried to reassure him “Just relax, I’m trying to help” The look Dick gave him was wary, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he hesitated before nodding. His head thudded back against the seat when Bruce stroked his fingers over the boy’s cock. 

It didn’t take much to make him come, as inexperienced as Dick was, especially with the pollen influencing him. Dick arched with a soft moan, shivering when the arousal didn’t stop. 

They might be able to make it work through masturbation, maybe Bruce could get his boy off enough times for the pollen to work its way out of his body, but they knew that penetration worked, as much as they knew anything about the pollen. 

Bruce refused to feel bad about the hitching sob that Dick made when he stopped touching him “I don’t,” Dick whined “Why does it hurt so much?” Bruce didn’t know what to tell him, so he said nothing. 

Dick made another little pitchy squeak when Bruce’s fingers rubbed across his taint, down to the tiny pucker hidden between his legs. “Wait!” Dick rasped “B, wait, it feels weird!” Bruce didn’t know how much time they had. 

They couldn’t afford to wait. 

Dick cried out when Bruce pressed his finger inside, groaning at the tight heat around the digit. Unable to help the part of his mind that whispered about how good that passage would feel around his cock. 

Dick was so small, whimpering in pain from just one finger. Bruce couldn’t imagine how he was going to manage to take his cock. 

He would have to make it fit. 

“Relax,” Bruce told him “Just breathe for me, you’re doing so well” Dick nodded, blinking tears out of his eyes as he took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to relax as much as he could. Which wasn’t much. 

As soon as he could, Bruce squirmed a second finger in alongside the first, making Dick bite back a sob, his flushed chest hitching as his breath shuddered loudly in the quiet car. 

“I’m trying,” Dick whined “I’m sorry, B, I’m trying but I can’t” Bruce shushed him, rubbing at Dick’s tense thigh with his free hand, resisting the urge to jerk himself off. Dick was what was important right then. “It’s alright,” Bruce said “You’re doing so well, so good Dickie.” Dick nodded, shivering at the praise, and Bruce paused. 

“Such a good boy,” He said, watching Dick shudder. He filed that tidbit away in the special box where he kept all of the things that he noticed about the boy. The things that were just for him. 

Bruce fingered Dick for as long as he had the patience to, trying to reduce the amount of pain that Dick would be in. He couldn’t eliminate it, couldn’t guarantee that there wouldn’t be damage done by forcing the boy’s body to accept Bruce’s length. But he could do his best. 

Dick squirmed when Bruce pulled his fingers out, staring in incomprehension when Bruce pulled his cock out and slicked himself up, slathering a generous amount of lube across his cock in hopes of making the glide easier. 

“W-wait,” Dick said, his eyes wide, “You’re gonna—?” He seemed to finally be putting the pieces together, his little cock twitching even as he tried to squirm out from under Bruce, “Wait, no, B—!” Bruce held him in place with a hand on his hip, shushing him gently “It’s the only way to flush the pollen from our systems,” he told him “I just need you to relax for me, it will be over soon,” Dick shook his head, lips parted on a wordless denial “I’m keeping you safe,” Bruce said “I don’t want to do this any more than you do, but we’ll die if we don’t.” 

Tears spilled down Dick’s cheeks, but he finally nodded, sniffling as he hesitantly wrapped his legs around Bruce’s hips “Okay,” He whispered “I understand.” 

Bruce groaned, resisting the urge to kiss him. That, Dick wouldn’t understand. 

This wasn’t about what Bruce wanted, it was about what would keep Dick safe. 

He had to force his way inside, his cock twitching at the way that Dick cried out, body arching as he tried to accommodate Bruce’s cock inside him. “It hurts” Dick cried, clawing at Bruce’s shoulders. 

Bruce couldn’t stop, not when Dick felt like heaven around him, soft and tight, taking everything that Bruce gave him. He went slow, at first, but they were short on time and Bruce was short on patience and it wasn’t long before Dick was clinging to him, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed and writhed under the assault.

Dick made a sharp, keening sound when Bruce grabbed at his cock, stroking him quickly. Dick came with another cry, getting louder and louder as he became more overwhelmed by the pleasure. “That’s it,” Bruce grunted “Good boy, Dickie, you take it so well,” Dick sobbed, shaking his head and clinging harder to Bruce’s shoulders, his legs wrapped tight around Bruce’s hips, drawing him in even closer. 

Bruce worked to get himself off as quickly as possible, murmuring praises as Dick squirmed and sobbed beneath him. 

Bruce came with a low groan, working his come as deeply into Dick’s pliant body as he could. In hopes that it would help with the pollen. 

Dick collapsed when Bruce pulled out, fists pressed against his eyes as he continued to cry. Bruce felt guilt curdle in his stomach, hating the way that Dick flinched away from his touch when he rubbed at a small hip. 

“It’s alright,” Bruce said gently “It’s over now,” Dick nodded, but he still wouldn’t look at him. Bruce could feel the pollen starting to fade in his system, could see that Dick was only a little bit chubbed. He’d have to continue monitoring, make sure that it was truly gone, but he let Dick have his space for the moment. 

When they reached the Batcave, finally, Bruce had to carry Dick out of the car. Dick didn’t shy away from his touch this time, but he was quiet, eyes red-rimmed. 

He was shaky on his feet when Bruce tried to stand him up in the decontamination shower, so Bruce was careful to keep a hand on him as he stripped himself of the batsuit, scrubbing the remnants of the pollen from their skin. 

Bruce helped an embarrassed Dick wash in between his legs, frowning when some of the water tinted pink. Something to keep an eye on. 

Despite it all, Dick was already half asleep when Bruce finally got him lying down on the medical cot, and the way that he sleepily clung to Bruce’s hand when he went to step away, preparing to start the blood tests and care for any wounds that Dick might have. 

That sleepy grasp was enough to reassure Bruce that they could get through this, Dick wouldn’t hate him for this. They would be fine. 

Chapter Text

The second time it happened things were… a little less accidental. 

There had been a bad batch of antidote, which Bruce knew, but he hadn’t gotten around to updating Dick beyond warning him to be careful. 

And then Dick got hit, inhaling a deep breath of powder and having to double over from how hard he was coughing, gagging on the thick pollen, and Bruce had to make a decision. 

It was a trap, Poison Ivy wasn’t even there, and Bruce had to make a decision. 

He hadn’t told Dick that the most recent batch was faulty. It had about a fifty/fifty shot whether it would work or not. The adverse reaction could be just as dangerous as the pollen. 

Bruce jabbed the needle into Dick’s thigh to administer the antidote before he could ask why Bruce was hesitating. 

It didn’t work. Dick’s fever spiked almost immediately, his sparse coughing fits turning into rough hacking coughs, dry heaving so hard he struggled to stay on his feet. 

Fifty/fifty shot. And they’d lost. 

They didn’t have the time to try and make a new batch. 

Dick braced his hands against the wall, head hanging down between his shoulders as he gagged again, making a miserable little sound when the nausea didn’t abate. 

His legs were spread a little bit to better balance. 

It would be so easy for Bruce to press up behind him. 

“Why isn’t it working?” Dick rasped in between rough coughs, “I don’t— why?” He shuddered when Bruce rubbed his thin shoulder, imagining the birdlike bones that lay beneath the boy’s skin. 

One of Dick’s hands left the wall, grabbing almost desperately at his crotch, whining when it pressed his cup harder into his erection. “Shh,” Bruce said, “The antidote didn’t work,” He didn’t need to say why, Dick was emotional right then and would surely blame him for not telling him sooner, letting him choose whether or not to take it himself. 

Maybe Bruce had been afraid of what he’d choose. 

“Let me help,” Bruce said, watching as Dick bit his lip like he was trying not to cry, shaking his head before nodding jerkily, the motion setting off another fit of coughing. 

Bruce was careful to check that Dick wasn’t having trouble breathing, his airways were clear, it was just the gritty pollen scraping his throat, and the nausea. 

Bruce was careful as he unwrapped Dick from his clothes, just enough to expose his bottom half, he didn’t want to do anything unnecessary. 

This was because he needed do. 

Because Dick needed him to do it. 

Maybe if Bruce tried hard enough he could even make himself believe that. 

He wrapped his hand around Dick’s small cock, almost forgetting to shed his gloves in his haste. He didn’t want to chafe the delicate skin with the rough material. Dick gasped when Bruce touched him, bucking into the sensation with a soft groan. 

Bruce wondered if Dick had started touching himself yet, how his boy might masturbate when he was alone. 

If he ever thought about what they’d done before while he did it.

He wanted to believe so. 

Dick wasn’t as mindless with it as he’d been last time, so the antidote was doing something, but his skin was still fever-hot, temperature continuing to spike the longer Bruce lingered, stroking his fingers across the velvety skin of Dick’s cock. 

The boy flinched when Bruce brought his other hand up to rub at his hole, not slick, just testing. The recovery after the last time this had happened had been awkward at best, with Dick refusing to let anyone look at him, he barely even let Bruce in close enough to help him. 

Bruce wanted to go slow, to be gentle with him, but he worried about that fever. He waited until Dick came, stroking him through it before pulling back. 

Dick whined when Bruce stopped jacking him off to reach for the lube, drizzling it across his hands and awkwardly trying to tuck it away with slick fingers. Dick had started touching himself during the wait, his fingers hesitant as he mimicked what Bruce had been doing moments prior. 

Despite himself, Bruce was charmed by the sight, Dick panting and coughing but still trying to follow what Bruce was doing, such a well behaved little Robin.

Bruce wrapped his hand around Dick’s guiding him in how to make himself feel good, enjoying the startled moan out of Dick’s mouth. 

He prodded at Dick’s ass, feeling Dick tense as he slid one inside. “No,” Dick said, “Wait,” Bruce paused, waiting “Do we have to?” Dick’s voice wavered “Can’t I just— just keep doing this?” Bruce would have liked that, but. “With the antidote causing this reaction, we can’t be sure that it would be enough.” He said. 

Dick rested his forehead against the brick wall, shuddering as he breathed unsteadily, breath hitching on aborted coughs as he worked through the problem. 

“O-okay,” Dick whispered “You can— do it.” 

Bruce bit back a groan, squeezing a little more firmly around Dick’s leaking cock in reward, making Dick moan softly, his own hand squeezing tighter in mimicry of Bruce’s actions.

Bruce allowed himself to move a little bit slower this time, his head clear of pollen as he slowly wormed a second finger into Dick’s wet heat. Dick’s muscles spasmed as he coughed, and Bruce couldn’t help but imagine how it was going to feel around his cock, even while he worried about the tension hurting Dick. 

Dick’s voice was also going to be wrecked from the coughing, from the stomach acid on his irritated throat. It would take him days to recover. 

He was careful as his scissored his fingers apart, trying to read the give of Dick’s body and not push it too far past its limits. Not yet. Dick whined, going up on his toes to try and shift away from the intrusion, losing rhythm on his cock as he started to panic. 

“Shh,” Bruce tried to soothe him, “It’s alright, it’ll be alright,” Dick shook his head, “Hurts” he rasped, his voice as awful as Bruce had thought it would be. “B, please, I can’t—“ he cut off with another rough coughing fit. Still, he was coming moments later, painting the wall with more pale come. 

Bruce couldn’t stop, managing to squeeze three fingers in together before he was forced to admit that Dick was as stretched as he was going to get. Which wasn’t much. 

Dick was too deep in his fit to protest when Bruce freed his cock and slicked it up, just wheezing out a little choked breath when Bruce started to push inside. 

It felt as good as he remembered, silky and tight around him. 

He was careful not to push in too deep, forced to let go of Dick’s cock to stroke his own along the length that wouldn’t fit, his other hand wrapped around Dick’s bony hip, holding him in place. 

“Please,” Dick wheezed, “B—“ “Shh, I have you,” Bruce was slow, rocking his hips gently, ever so careful. It was still too much for Dick, small as he was, but it was easier than last time. Dick retched, clenching tight around Bruce’s cock and making him groan low in his throat. 

“I know,” Bruce said, “It hurts doesn’t it? It’ll be over soon, I promise.” Bruce wasn’t sure how he could afford to squander the time that he got to spend here, inside Dick. But Dick was in danger, if he didn’t try to get himself off quickly. Which wasn’t really that hard, considering how good Dick felt around him.

Bruce had done some research after the last time. He knew the mechanics of gay sex, in a general sense, but he’d needed a more intensive understanding, in case something like this happened. 

Bruce carefully angled his thrusts, pausing when Dick squeaked, his hand spasming around his cock as he arched, moaning. Bruce adjusted to thrust at that angle instead, making Dick gasp and groan, overwhelmed as Bruce continued to hit his sweet spot. 

Dick got impossibly tight when he came, almost forcing Bruce back out of his body with how hard he squeezed around him. It was almost painful, but Bruce groaned with arousal at the knowledge that he’d been the one to get Dick off. 

Dick had come because of Bruce fucking him. 

It was enough to send Bruce over the edge after him, thrusting in deeper than he had before as he worked his come into the boy’s body, listening to the overwhelmed little wheeze that Dick let out before he pulled out. 

Dick collapsed, caught by Bruce before he could hit the ground. He was still feverish, but it was already a little bit more reasonable than it had been mere minutes earlier. 

Low enough that Bruce felt comfortable bringing him back to the cave for further treatment. 

Dick was sick for days, stuck in bed with a bucket nearby for emergencies, unable to sleep because of the coughing fits. It was miserable. Bruce called off of work to stay with him, argued with teachers about why Dick had to miss school again, and tried his best to make Dick as comfortable as he could be. 

Dick was, understandably, cranky. 

“Fuck Ivy,” Dick grumbled, burying his face under his pillow when his latest coughing fit finally tapered off. “And fuck being allergic or whatever to the antidote.” His voice was muffled under how pillow, but Bruce still heard it. 

He paused. Considering. He still hadn’t told Dick about the fault in the antidote. He’d fixed it before sending the formula out, so there shouldn’t be many similar cases to what Dick was dealing with. 

He blinked when Dick’s head popped up, looking adorably rumpled with his hair sticking up “That’s what happened, right?” Dick said, his eyes narrowed as he thought it through “We’ll have to test it, I guess, but you got tagged last week and you didn’t spend a week puking your guts up” Bruce thought his words through carefully. 

“We can run some tests,” Bruce said “But maybe it would be best for you to avoid the antidote, just for a little while.” He felt guilty, a sick feeling in his stomach that only grew the longer that the lie sat in the air between them. 

Dick groaned, defeated “Yeah, okay,” he grumbled “I don’t want to do this again, this fucking sucks.” Bruce couldn’t even chastise him for his language, hadn’t even thought to do it earlier, too wrapped up in the dizzying realization that he could have this. 

That Dick would let him have this. Would be his. 

Just for a little while. 

They’d run the tests and figure things out, but until then… It wasn’t like Bruce was trying to initiate anything, it was just if Dick needed it. If Poison Ivy happened to tag him with pollen again when they fought her then Bruce would take care of him. Obviously. 

He would tell him. 

Just not yet. 

Once they put Ivy away where she belonged. Then he would back off, let Dick slip through his fingers again. If he could. Bruce wasn’t so sure that he could let go, anymore. Not when Dick was finally his. 

Chapter Text

Sometimes Bruce couldn’t help it, creeping into Dick’s room after he went to bed, just watching the rise and fall of his chest with something like wonder. Sometimes Dick would wake up, blinking blearily and making a little questioning sound, his brows furrowed as he mumbled “Bruce?” and Bruce would shush him, petting his hair until the boy fell back asleep. 

Worse were the warm nights when Dick would kick his covers off, his sleep shirt riding up to expose his soft belly. Sometimes Bruce would cover him up again, tucking the blankets firmly around him. Other times he couldn’t help but touch, stroking his fingers across that soft skin until Dick sleepily swatted his hands away, grumbling in his sleep and rolling over. 

On the bad nights, Bruce would slip something into Dick’s drink, not wanting to upset him, to ruin things, if he woke up. Bruce wouldn’t do much, just get his hands on that soft skin, stroke his fingers across that dainty cock until it stood up for him, drooling onto Dick’s belly as the boy’s breath became heavier and heavier, his plush lips parted. 

Sometimes Bruce would open him up, just a little bit, just one finger pressed inside to feel his silky warmth. Any more and Dick might notice something off in the morning. Bruce would tease his boy as long as he was able before taking his own cock out, rutting down against Dick’s soft belly until he came, painting the boy’s skin. 

Often times he would clean up after himself, but sometimes he couldn’t help but leave Dick covered in his own come. Never Bruce’s, he couldn’t leave evidence like that, but he’d stroke Dick’s cock until the boy came all over himself and then tuck his clothing back into place.

The next morning he’d watch Dick stumble down to the breakfast table, his ears reddened with embarrassment. 

That happened less the older that Dick got, as he got used to waking up from those wet dreams and cleaning himself up after. 

Bruce wondered what he dreamed about, on those nights. 

Sometimes Bruce got to watch when Dick would jerk himself off, moaning wordlessly as he bucked his hips into his hands, grinding down against pillows and, occasionally, working himself open on his fingers. 

It was the closest he could get, the older that Dick got, the warier he became and the less likely to accept Bruce in his personal space. 

Dick was pulling away, withdrawing and arguing about anything he could, running away to his friends and only reluctantly returning. Bruce was scrambling after him, trying to figure out how to make him stay, because Bruce needed him and Dick needed Bruce he just needed to understand that.

Then Dick found the cameras in his room and suddenly it was “Bruce didn’t trust him” and “He couldn’t live under these conditions” and Dick was leaving and Bruce couldn’t stop him. 

— 

He waited as long as he could, determined to let Dick have his space, to let him calm down before approaching. 

But Dick never backed down, and Bruce was coming to realize that maybe Dick would never come back to Gotham, not fully. Bruce had ruined things by trying to cling onto him too tightly, by trying to take Robin away from him, by not listening to what Dick had been telling him. 

And Bruce had to find a way to be okay with that. He wouldn’t be clingy, he could let Dick have his own life. His own team. His own city. 

But all of that didn’t change the fact that Dick was still, on some level, always going to be his. Bruce would keep an eye on him, make sure that he was safe, that he was happy, but he wouldn’t step in unless he needed to. 

Then Dick started dating the alien princess. Which was. Fine. Certainly not who Bruce would have picked, but she treated him well enough which was not as well as Bruce could.

It was torturous for him to watch, to sit back and bite his tongue and keep from ruining the tentative truce that he and Dick had been rebuilding. Dick came back to Gotham, when he had to. When Bruce needed him. Or, rather, when Batman needed Nightwing. 

But still, Bruce did watch. Watched Dick with his friends and his alien princess until he couldn’t anymore. 

— 

Dick was so soft when he asked for it, flushed when he handed the Tamaranean the lube, his thighs spread wide to let her in between them. “Please,” he whispered, barely loud enough for the microphone to pick up, “I want it,” he said, encouraging her with a low groan when she reached in between his legs to press at the spot that only Bruce had been in before that point. 

Dick moaned, his hips grinding down against her hand as he fisted a hand around his cock, stroking it languidly while she fingered him open. 

They used one of her vibrators, wrapped in a condom, to fuck him. Dick was enthusiastic, moaning and singing her praises until he wasn’t anymore. Until his eyes blew wide and his breath picked up and he wheezed for her to stop. She did. Bruce didn’t know how she had the will to do so when Dick was so beautiful all spread out like that. But she did, rushing out apologies and reassurances as Dick tossed an arm over his eyes to hide how wet they were. 

Maybe it was because she couldn’t know how it felt to have Dick wrapped around a real cock, how hot and wet and silky he was inside. 

They tried it again a few weeks later, and again after that, until they were confident enough that Dick could get through it that the Tamaranean bought a harness so that she could mimic fucking him for real. 

Dick settled for that instead of coming back to Bruce. 

Still, Bruce didn’t intend to intervene. 

Not until he happened to be in the city for a meeting as Bruce Wayne, and he was sitting in his hotel room, checking on Dick before he planned to get more work done. 

And they’d been doing it again. 

Dick was on his hands and knees, beautiful as he arched and gasped, rocking his hips back against the Tamaranean, moaning when she wrapped her hand around his cock. “Kori,” Dick gasped, “Kori, oh fuck Kori” He was loud, unabashed in a way that he’d never let himself be with Bruce. 

He was beautiful, ethereal, and searching for Bruce in someone else instead of just coming home. 

Dick made those perfect, pleading noises, gasping out praises and always begging for more, more that she couldn’t give him. Not in the way he wanted. 

Bruce found himself drawn closer, as he always was with Dick. He didn’t truly mean to, but it wasn’t long before he found himself standing over Dick’s bed once again, quietly ensuring that neither occupant would wake until he was done. 

Dick wouldn’t even notice, with how fucked open he was. He liked the stretch, liked to take girthy cocks like Bruce’s. 

It was easy to prise him away from the Tamaranean, rolling Dick onto his back, his sleep shirt riding up across his belly, like it always did. 

Bruce was careful as he pushed it up under his armpits, leaning down to taste the clean skin of Dick’s chest. He must have showered in the time it took Bruce to get there. His mouth tasted minty when Bruce kissed him, pressing his tongue past soft lips, slack with sleep. 

Bruce tugged Dick’s boxers down his long legs, tracing his fingers across his muscular thighs. The muscles under his hands twitched, gooseflesh breaking out across Dick’s body as his sleep-warm skin was exposed to the cool air of the AC. Bruce would warm him up, soon. 

He had to be gentle, had to avoid leaving behind any bruises, but it was worth it to finally get his hands on his boy again. 

Dick made a soft, reedy sound when Bruce pressed his mouth to his cock, shifting in his sleep to press closer to the stimulation. It didn’t take long to get him hard, not with Bruce tonguing the soft skin and suckling at the head. Dick was panting by the time Bruce pulled back, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. He’d grown into himself, his cock no longer that adorable little thing that Bruce could fit in his mouth with ease. Oh well, this was good too. 

Dick made another quiet sound when Bruce stopped, a mournful little thing. Adorable.

Bruce went slow, fingering more lube into Dick’s pliant body, testing the give. He wore a condom, unwilling to leave behind evidence. 

Thrusting home felt like seeing God. Lights flashed behind his eyes as Bruce sheathed himself in Dick’s warm body. Dick’s breath huffed out of him, a groan drawn from his chest as he shifted, thighs tensing and relaxing around Bruce’s hips, his eyes moving behind his eyelids as he thought about waking up. 

He wouldn’t. Bruce had made sure of that. But the thrill of getting caught had Bruce groaning all the same. 

Bruce went slow, rocking gently in and out of Dick while the boy— man, now, really—  continued to sleep, letting out soft little moans and whimpers while Bruce fucked him. Bruce angled himself against Dick’s sweet spot, making his breath hitch and his hips cant, precum dribbling from the head of his cock. He had to be sensitive, fucked out already before they’d even begun, and it showed when Dick started twitching away, whimpering and squirming as Bruce grabbed his cock again, stroking him in time with his thrusts. 

It didn’t take much to push Dick over the edge, his mouth opening on a gasp as he came, a small dribble of come leaving his cock to trail down across Bruce’s knuckles. Bruce raised that hand to his mouth, licking the fluids away and groaning at the taste.

It was too difficult to hold back so Bruce forced himself to pull out, stroking himself quickly until he was tumbling over the edge. It was a shame that he had to wear the condom. He wanted to smear his come across Dick’s skin as he had so many times before. Instead he forced himself to clean up, to wipe the lube from between Dick’s legs and the come from his belly. 

He gently shifted Dick’s clothing back into place and tucked the blankets around him, brushing his fingers across Dick’s soft hair. He lingered to watch Dick sleep for a while, counting the measures of his soft breaths until he could finally force himself away. 

As long as Dick didn’t find out, it was fine. 

He could have this. 

Chapter Text

Things started going wrong after Poison Ivy teamed up with Scarecrow to cause mayhem and Batman had to call Nightwing to help him deal with the fallout before the death count rose any higher. 

It had started out fine, they both had a fairly high tolerance for dealing with fear toxin, even if it was unpleasant. It was the addition of the pollen that was making it so difficult to deal with. Especially when Dick gave up his gas mask to save a civilian. 

Bruce managed to inject the antidote for the fear toxin, despite how hard Dick fought against him, completely delirious with terror. It was an old antidote, meant for the previous strand of fear toxin rather than the one they’d formulated to combat the fear toxin and Ivy pollen combination. It was less effective, but Dick could survive fear toxin without any antidote, if he had to. 

Bruce brought him back to the cave, wondering if this was the time he’d need to give in and give Dick the proper antidote, with how horrifyingly vacant he seemed, curled in on himself and trembling, staring at nothing in the back seat of the batmobile. 

He came back to himself slowly, flinching when Bruce lay him down on the medical cot. “No,” Dick slurred, “Don’t,” he thrashed until Bruce was forced to hold him in place, crawling in between Dick’s tensed legs to keep him from kicking out. 

Instead Dick clawed at him, still leaning as far away as he could. Bruce wondered what he saw, what could make him this afraid. Dick was mumbling out protests, squirming as Bruce ran his hands across Dick’s body, checking how deep into the grips of the pollen he was. What the ratio of fear to arousal might be. 

Dick almost managed to push himself off of the cot entirely, forcing Bruce to grab him by the hips to keep from falling “I’m trying to help,” he said, rubbing at Dick’s crotch soothingly and murmuring platitudes “I gave you the antidote for the fear toxin, but the pollen is still there. I just want to keep you safe. Let me keep you safe.” 

Dick trembled, gone quiet for the moment. Bruce took it as permission to continue. 

Dick kept squirming as Bruce stripped him, flinching when Bruce touched him, and Bruce hated that the fear toxin was hurting his boy. But he needed to work the pollen out of his system. 

He stripped off his gloves, pushing Dick’s trembling thighs open wider. His skin was hot to the touch, his fever spiking higher than Bruce was comfortable with. He rushed to slick up his fingers and press them into Dick’s soft core. Dick whined when Bruce did, and he rushed to reassure him, carefully scissoring the digits open to coax Dick’s tense body into accepting them. 

Bruce tried to get him to relax, but it quickly proved fruitless. The fear toxin was going to keep his muscles locked tight. Bruce would have to move forward anyway. He slicked himself up, gently pushing home as Dick gasped and whimpered. 

He tried to keep his pace slow, leaning down to pepper kisses across Dick’s neck and shoulders to soothe him. When that didn’t work, he belatedly wrapped a hand around Dick’s leaking cock, making him let out the sweetest little cry as he bucked into the contact. 

Bruce stroked him in time with his thrusts, appreciating the sweet flush on Dick’s face, the tears that glittered in wide blue eyes. 

Bruce tested a few angles, thrusting carefully until Dick was seizing around him with a sharp cry, overcome by pleasure as he came, squirming beneath Bruce’s bulk and clenching down around him. 

It would be kinder to avoid dragging it out, so that was what Bruce did, groaning as he fucked into Dick’s tight ass, rutting in as deep as he could until he was coming, depositing his come into Dick’s soft insides. 

Gently, Bruce pulled back, gathering Dick close as he squirmed sleepily. 

Bruce would get him cleaned up and into a proper bed to sleep the rest of the effects off. Then they’d deal with Scarecrow and Poison Ivy. 

— 

For a while, things were alright. They worked to stop the villains and Bruce reluctantly had to say goodbye as Dick rushed back to his friends once more. It hurt to be brushed off so easily, but Bruce hadn’t sensed anything wrong, nothing different than it had been before. 

Yet something had clearly happened. 

There was a tension between Dick and the Tamaranean, a subtle strain where she treated him like glass and Dick was reluctant to tell her how much he had always hated that. 

Still, it wasn’t really Bruce’s problem if their relationship quietly imploded. 

Until she tried to assert a claim over Bruce’s Robin. Tried to tell him that Nightwing belonged to the Titans before he belonged to Batman, and that. 

That, Bruce could not abide. 

—

He wondered, belatedly, if Dick knew. 

If that was why Dick had started pulling away harder than before, if that was why the Tamaranean was so angry. 

It would explain things. 

But how was he meant to explain things if he was unable to speak to Dick in the first place? When Dick never listened to his words at all? Words could easily be twisted, Dick was excellent at hearing what he wanted to hear and only that. 

He would have to show Dick, prove to him that Bruce still cared about him as much as he always had. He had to do it without Dick’s team getting in the way, but that wasn’t difficult. 

The problem, Bruce realized, was that the compound he used induced minor memory loss. This had been fine, been preferable, before now. But when he wanted Dick to remember, it became slightly less than ideal. 

Still, Bruce was reluctant to change his methodology when it so clearly worked. He elected to use a lower dose, allowing Dick to wake up, at least a little bit, which was more than he typically would. 

He would look into alternatives at a later date. 

In the interim, Bruce decided to bring a camera, like the ones he’d used in Dick’s room what felt like ages ago. He had smaller ones, better ones, but he felt that the nostalgia added an extra note. 

Dick was, understandably, upset when Bruce woke him, panting out petulant little protests and threats when Bruce pinned him down, trying to turn his face away when Bruce kissed him. 

He turned sweeter when Bruce got his hands on him, stroking Dick’s cock and sheathing a finger inside him. It was dry, but the way that Dick’s legs jerked as he yipped made it worth it. 

Bruce paused to slick his fingers up, pressing two into Dick’s soft hole. Dick whined, clenching his thighs around Bruce’s hips, breathy pleas leaving his lips as he begged with his whole body for Bruce to speed up. Bruce could only oblige, when Dick asked for it so sweetly. 

He regretted being so cautious before, Dick clearly needed this, even if he was too afraid to ask for it. 

He used a condom, wary of leaving behind biological residue, even if he knew that Dick would protect his identity. 

Thrusting home was amazing, as always, Dick’s body slick and tight around him. Dick squirmed, clutching at his shoulders as Bruce fucked him, making sweet little noises like he was begging for more. 

Bruce paused, rolling Dick up onto his knees, fairly certain that he could stay upright even with the amount of drugs in his system, he was trained by the best, after all. Bruce jerked Dick off, pressing kisses to his throat, leaving nipping reminders across his shoulders for Dick to find when he woke up. 

Things to remind him that Bruce cared. 

Dick whimpered as Bruce stroked him, hips rutting into the stimulation, unsure whether to thrust down into Bruce’s fist or rock back against his cock. 

Dick was always so sweet.

Bruce couldn’t hold himself back from coming, stroking Dick until he fell apart with a rough sob, overwhelmed. 

Bruce held himself there for a long moment, just breathing as Dick trembled weakly beneath him. 

Eventually, he forced himself away. He would clean Dick up, wipe the sweat and come from his skin and wrap him up in the blankets again. 

There was something incredibly freeing about not being forced to sneak around anymore. Dick needed to know that Bruce was thinking about him, that he was wanted, and Bruce was willing to show him that he cared as many times as he needed to.