Chapter Text
Everything burned.
Bruce’s skin was too tight. Lava flowed through his veins. Whatever Ivy had hit them with, it was powerful and it was new.
Their regular antidote hadn’t even slowed this down. Or maybe it had. Maybe that was the only reason he and Nightwing had made it back to the car before the poison really hit them.
Nightwing…
By the time Bruce could focus, Dick was half out of his suit—a remarkable feat, considering how close the Batmobile kept them. Bruce stared, hypnotized by the rise and fall of Dick’s chest as he panted, trying to wriggle his way out of the rest of his costume.
Bruce pressed a gloved hand to Dick’s sternum, stilling him instantly.
“Nightwing, report.”
“It’s so hot,” Dick said, his voice breathless. Dick was at least as infected as he was, possibly worse. Dick was probably right to start stripping, though; their clothes were completely covered in it.
Bruce pulled off his cowl, sighing in slight relief as the air hit his bare face. He reached over and removed Dick’s mask, hoping it would help the same.
Their eyes met.
Dick’s gaze sharpened into something lustful and wanton. Wildly, Bruce wondered if his expression matched.
Somehow, Bruce managed to turn on the autopilot just before he had a armful of—a now very naked—Dick Grayson.
Time seemed to stutter like an old movie with some of the frames cut out. One of them was stripping his costume off, but Bruce couldn’t tell who. Someone switched the autopilot from the Batcave to the penthouse. But it was Dick—beautiful, stunning Dick—who was kissing him, holding him, touching him as if his life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
Every place Bruce touched Dick scorched him, but he couldn’t stop. It was like touching an angel. Dick laughed against his throat and kissed a line up to Bruce’s mouth.
The next thing Bruce knew, they were in the bedroom of the penthouse. He was losing more time, everything coming in fragments unless Dick was in his arms. But now that they were here, there were no more distractions.
Just the fire inside of them.
Bruce flipped them, pinning Dick to the mattress. He kissed down Dick’s chest, nipping at him hard enough to leave trails of red along his flushed body until he reached Dick’s cock.
His vision sharpened.
He swallowed Dick’s cock, holding Dick’s hips to keep him from moving. Dick moaned so loud he drowned out the blood rushing in Bruce’s head. He sucked and bobbed along Dick’s cock hungrily. Dick’s hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, reaching for any part of Bruce he could grab. Dick let out a strangled cry and came, flooding Bruce’s mouth; Bruce drank him up greedily.
When Bruce finally pulled off, Dick was a shade less red. His eyes were brighter, less glazed, but Bruce could tell the toxin was still in him. Dick reached for him and Bruce let him flip them over.
Dick's mouth felt divine around him. Bruce fisted his fingers in Dick's hair—always so soft and longer than Bruce had ever kept his own—and held Dick down. Some part of him, whatever part was still rational, told him to let go, that it wasn't fair to Dick, that he could hurt Dick this way, but that part was quickly being drowned out by the rush of lust lighting up his brain.
Dick gurgled, and Bruce looked down. Dick was staring up at him, his lips stretched obscenely around Bruce’s cock.
It was too much.
Bruce came down Dick's throat, moaning Dick's name like a prayer.
By the time Bruce came back to himself, Dick had dislodged one of Bruce's hands from his hair and was back to bobbing on his cock. Bruce let him go, and Dick pulled off with a pop.
"I need you," Dick said, his voice hoarse. "I need you inside me."
Yes. He needed that, too.
Dick climbed him like a tree, desperate to begin, but Bruce flipped them once again, buying him enough time to find a bottle of lube in his bedside table.
Bruce lifted Dick's legs to his shoulders, one slicked hand working Dick open as gently as possible. He needed to be inside Dick now. He needed to make Dick his, to mark him forever.
He was losing his mind.
Dick was all but fucking himself on Bruce fingers, propping himself up on one arm to slick up Bruce's cock with his free hand.
"Please, Bruce!"
Bruce didn't need Dick to ask twice.
He tried to enter Dick slowly, trying to keep from hurting him, but the moment the tip of his cock was inside Dick, Bruce couldn't control himself. He forced himself into Dick, folding Dick nearly in half. Dick writhed, pushing against Bruce to try and take him deeper. With a groan and a sharp thrust, Bruce buried himself balls deep inside Dick.
For a moment, there was nothing. There was no bedroom, no penthouse, no Gotham, nothing but the heat inside him, and Dick.
Beautiful,
Effusive,
Perfect,
Dick.
Dick grabbed Bruce’s head, kissed him, and suddenly the world came rushing back.
He fucked Dick hard, one hand on Dick's thigh, one hand digging into his ass. As if all his senses flared up on high, Bruce could hear everything around them: the hum of the air, the bang of the headboard against the wall, the blood in his head, but especially the way Dick moaned.
He moved one hand to Dick's cock, sloppy strokes barely in time with his fevered thrusts. Dick hollered Bruce's name into his mouth as he came, clenching around Bruce's cock.
The pressure was too much. Bruce followed Dick almost immediately, emptying his balls into Dick's pliant body.
Bruce slumped forward, leaning heavily on Dick as he panted.
Replacing the heat inside him was a terrible chill, as if all the blood in him had turned to ice.
What had they done?
What had he done?
Gingerly, Bruce pulled out of Dick, tenderly unfolding him onto the bed. Dick gazed at him with confusion.
What had he done?
"Bruce?"
He'd ruined everything.
Bruce climbed down off the bed, trying desperately to not look at Dick's body—so inviting, so warm, Bruce's cum still leaking out of him—and gathered his suit.
He dressed on the way out, putting on his cape and cowl like some sort of security blanket.
Dick would never want to speak to him again, not after this.
Just before he left, Bruce swore he heard Dick call his name.
But his voice was drowned out by Bruce's guilty conscience.