Tim opens his mouth, shocked into silence a second time, and then promptly shuts it. He's--- Did Dick just say what he thinks he did? Tim's never really thought of himself as anything exciting. He's the smart one. The brainy kid brother who's always doing a hundred and twenty percent just to keep up. The middle child. The loner.
The replacement.
It's a wild, wonderful thought to have. And it fills Tim with a hell of a lot of emotions.
A specimen of a mind and body, brave, focused, precise and doing so much more than just keeping up. These are the things Dick sees when he sees Tim, and perhaps it wasn't such a coincidence that Tim was the first to come to mind when Dick realized he needed help. He needed someone who he could be vulnerable like this with, who he would want to see him this way. There must be a reason why Tim stood in front of him, looking at him like this instead of getting him out of the ropes.
Dick almost groans with the heat of arousal that curls along his body, all that desire held at bay reignited with that simple ask.
"Azul." Blue, in Spanish, a part of Ala Azul who was the saviour he needed when he was in that dark isolation cell, the inspiration behind Nightwing. Darkened eyes hold Tim's now, filled with warm desire as he swallows hard.
Tim can't help but chuckle. "Baby, huh?" Tim cocks his head, looks Dick over, and then slides a finger under Dick's strong chin, urging it up enough to be uncomfortable, a good stretch. "I don't think you're currently in any position for calling me pet names." Tim's free hand finds one of the ropes at Dick's chest and snaps it. "Unless I ask you to call me something, anyway. My choice right now. Sweetheart."
The stretch makes him ache so good, his stiff shoulders pulling, his back arching as he strains to go where Tim takes him. Even the sting of the rope feels so good, pulling a surprised, breathy gasp. A delicious shiver races down his spine.
Tim’s words take on a sexy mean edge and Dick can’t help the smile that starts curling on his mouth. Sweetheart.
“Do you find me sweet like this? Sweet enough to taste?”
"That depends," Tim says, rising up so he's looming over Dick. "On if you behave."
Right then, Tim really wishes he had things to help this conversation along. Whips, floggers, a fleshlight would be ideal. Things to tease and torment Dick with. Maybe even a gag, because Dick loves to run his mouth and cutting that off would probably really get him going.
As it is, Tim will make do.
He stretches a tennis-shoe clad boot out, testing Dick's resolve to see this through as he pushes it on top of Dick's hard length.
Dark eyes flutter shut when that shoe presses against his straining length, making him hiss as the sole rubs just on the right side of pain. His hips roll forward uncontrollably though he doesn't get very far as the ropes harness him back, keeping him from seeking out the contact he wants. He's throbbing now, the ring constricting deliciously at the base of his shaft, making it so much worse.
Never did he imagine this is how it'd be with Tim. During those weak moments when his mind wander, when he would think about how Tim might be in bed, that strong, lithe body would be spread out under him, perhaps riding him, lean thighs framing out his hips, perhaps both those wiry wrists held in his hands. Not the other way around. Not like this, those sharp words and gaze pinning him in place, holding him completely at Tim's mercy.
It's intoxicating.
"Depends," he echoes, voice husky as he smirks up at Tim, biting his own lower lip as his gaze crawls down Tim's body, looking shamelessly over him for the first time. He draws in another shaky breath. He really does like to run his mouth, and he'll use it for as long as he has it at his disposal. Until Tim figures out what else his mouth can do.
"What if I wanna find out what you'll do if I don't?"
"You'd like the punishment too much, I think," Tim says, pushing the toe of his shoe a bit more firmly, letting the dirty sole grate over Dick's hard length. It's pretty intoxicating, having Dick like this. Seeing him strain and try to buck. "So I'd probably just have to leave you here. Call...hm, I don't know, Bruce maybe. See what he'd like to do."
It's a dangerous calculation. But Tim's willing to explore what it does to Dick to hear that.
A keening groan falls from his lips as his head tips back, a pang of sharp, grating pleasure raking over his body from Tim's foot. It's exquisite, having Tim stand over him and not even touch him, making him crave so badly. The mention of Bruce sparks all sorts of crossed wires in his brain.
"You--you wouldn't." The smirk slides off his face and he instinctively wants to reach out, his shoulders and arms flexing beneath the ropes as he struggles. His cock starts weeping and a whine scrapes out his parted lips. The thought that Bruce would come here, perhaps stand beside Tim, the two of them putting him in his place until he begs for mercy. The shame crawls down his throat and pools desperately in the pit of his stomach. He shakes his head.
It takes everything in Tim not to crouch down, soothe Dick with a pet and maybe some kisses and reassuring words. But that's not what Dick asked for, not being tied up like this, not hard as a rock even despite begging Tim not to bring Bruce here.
Tim gets it. Or else he wouldn't have tested the boundaries.
"You don't want him to see you like this?" Tim asks, stroking his rubber sole up and down Dick's length, leaving behind red raw marks that will fade quickly. "I bet he'd like it, having you completely at his mercy."
He can't stop shifting, simultaneously trying to inch closer and away from the torturous bite that is too much and not enough at the same time.
"He would," a groan cuts off his words, the idea of Bruce doing whatever he wanted to him, without Dick having a single say at all. The thought riles him up bad, the strain against the ropes blooming a sheen over his skin. "He'd make me so sorry for it if he had me this way. He'd be so fucking--good. He'd hurt me so bad," Hazy eyes hold onto Tim's gaze.
"Tim," he groans Tim's name. "Is that what you want? That what you wanna see done to me?"
"Mmm, I can't say it wouldn't be something," he says, finally removing his shoe but not without first scraping it along Dick's red, swollen tip. "To see him wreck you like I'm sure he's done before. Right? Wouldn't be the first time you let him."
Tim has no idea really. Well, he's got theories, but he's never asked either of them. It just seems inevitable. Bruce is, well, Bruce. The center of their universes whether they like it or not.
"But not today." Tim does crouch then, running his fingertips along Dick's jaw, down his neck, over his broad chest, feeling the rabid thump of his heart shaking his ribcage. "Today, you're all mine." And then he tweaks one of Dick's nipples until he's sure it'll bruise before meandering his touch lower, smoothing over Dick's groin, just above his aching cock.
Dick cries out at the painful sensation, his eyes prickling with all the nerve endings screaming out. The precum beading at his sensitive head does little to soften the friction beneath Tim's shoe, but it wrings pleasure in its wake, leaves him gasping and held upright only by the chain connecting his wrists to ankles that keeps him from double over.
He shakes his head, denying it, even though Tim, always too smart for his own good, has already said the truth out loud. Dick would never wish Bruce's wrath upon any other one of them, would never want Tim to think it was okay that Bruce liked to pinned him down and do whatever he wanted to him.
The touch to his face pulls him out of the thought, and hazy gaze lifts to Tim's face. Those beautiful, intelligent, caring eyes.
"I'm yours, I want you, Tim, not him. I want--Fuck!," he gasps, arching into Tim's fingertips. Tim seems to know exactly what to do to keep him on a razor's edge with barely any room to breathe.
"So good, Tim, please. Please," he doesn't care how he sounds anymore, doesn't care that his hair is stuck to his forehead, that his eyes are wild, that the ropes are rubbing him raw where they're digging into his skin as he struggles closer to Tim's touch. Tim's warm touch burns in contrast to the pain and he wants more. "Touch me."
"You're really begging for it, aren't you." Tim's voice is soft, conversational, not at all moved by Dick's pleas for relief. He knows better. This is what Dick wants, isn't it? To beg and plead but be denied until he's at his wit's end and only then have Tim break him apart?
Tim smoothes his hand up over Dick's abs, appreciating the sweat glistening on them, the flutter in Dick's stomach born from nerves raw on edge.
"The issue is, if I touch you now, you're going to come." Tim stands up, petting through Dick's hair, smoothing it back off his forehead so he can look at those eyes again. "Right?"
Tim's touch feels like everything right now, feels like a lifeline thrown into his burning throes of agony. If he were thinking straight, he'd be impressed by the precision in Tim's words, though it comes as no surprise that Tim cuts straight to the heart of the issue.
Dick's eyes are desperate, widened as Tim straightens, and a keening whine squeezes out of his throat when that touch gets taken away. It takes a beat to register the question over the roar of need coursing through his body.
"No--no, I won't." As if the ring at the base of his cock isn't enough, Tim wants to hear him promise. His head tips back and a full-body shiver wracks his kneeled form as a moan slides from his parted mouth. He loves fingers in his hair. "I promise, Tim. Not 'till you say I can." A hard swallow. "I can earn it. I can make you feel good."
"Yeah? You'll be a good boy for me and wait until I give you permission before you come?" Tim asks it quietly, sweetly, combing through Dick's hair with sincerity. Keeping Dick's head tipped so he's at Tim's mercy, looking up at him like he's the only thing saving him
And honestly, Tim sort of is.
"If that's the case, tell me what you'll do for me. How you'll be good for me and please me."
"I'll be good," he answers immediately, the words choking back another groan that threatens to surface, his eyes sliding shut for a beat as Tim's fingers comb through his hair again. The worst part of this is how gentle Tim's hands are, how the touch threading through his hair feels so loving, yet how firm those words still remain. It's putting him on edge and taking him into unfamiliar territory, somehow making this even hotter than it already is.
"Anything," he promises, opening his eyes again to hazily stare up at Tim, the desire burning hot in his gaze. "I'm yours to use, I'll make you feel so good--let me... get you off, Tim. Would you fuck my mouth? Let me taste you?"
Tim hums, and it's to his credit that it isn't a moan. If there's one thing that's kept him up nights since he was way too young to discuss it in public, it's the thought of Dick Grayson, sucking him off. Even in his wildest fantasies, Dick is always too good, gently guiding him away because he doesn't want to hurt Tim.
But here, now, he's offering. And Tim's shivery with want.
"If you ask nicely," he says, stepping closer to put Dick's mouth against the zip of his fly.
Dick would be so glad to know that Tim holds such a clean image of him, even in his fantasies, though any of his past sexual partners would attest to the opposite. It's only being proven here, by the way his breath shudders out as he turns his face into Tim's fly, lashes falling shut again as he opens wide to mouth over as much of Tim's bulge as he can. He lets those gentle hands guide him whichever way Tim pleased.
"Please?" he says, the word smothered into Tim's jeans, his hot breath dampening the fabric. "Please let me suck you off. I'll do it so good. Want you to feed me your cock, Tim." He wants nothing but to smooth his hands up the back of Tim's thighs, to palm over that cute little perky butt (yes, he's noticed), and pull him in, but all can do is curl his fingers into his palms and find Tim's zipper with his teeth. He tugs it down, all the while looking up at Tim.
Tim closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the attention and pleading tone. Hearing that Dick wants it that badly is definitely getting Tim going--and then Dick takes the fly by his teeth and a shudder passes through Tim's willowy body above him.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "There's my good boy." Tim pets through Dick's hair some more as a praise, like he might for a dog that took a treat gently from his palm. He lets Dick struggle to get the zip down and then helps him by unbuttoning the rest. His scent is strong there, and he's half hard just from seeing Dick like this. There's a flush on his face that says despite how easy he's making it look, this isn't something he does often. "Show me what you can do," he adds, tugging his jeans down to his thighs and stepping closer to smother Dick's face against the bulge in his boxer briefs.
This is better, having something to focus on besides the desperate wanting lighting his body on fire. Like this, he can lean into Tim's fingers, Tim's voice, telling him he's being good. As grateful as he is that Tim undoes the button to his jeans, he's reluctant when he draws back to allow those deft fingers the space they need.
"Mmmm...look at you," he bites his own lip in anticipation as he watches those jeans get pushed down slim hips, unable to help the way his own hips shift when a bead of precum drips down his straining length. As soon as Tim steps in close, Dick presses his face in again, groaning from the musky scent that greets him, pulling him in for more. Wetly, eagerly, he kisses down Tim's length, mouths gently around his sensitive balls, then up again, tonguing along that slowly hardening length over the thin fabric of boxer-briefs. It'll be easy to see that he enjoys this deeply, down to the heated look he gives Tim as he opens his eyes to find the waistband of Tim's underwear with his teeth.
The slightest smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he peels them down, one that falters again when a pang of desire practically twists torturously inside him as he looks at Tim. He swallows hard as his mouth waters at the sight of Tim's cock. He could only describe it as the most perfect combination of pretty and sexy, and exactly the thing he needed more than anything right now. Without missing another beat, he laps a hot stripe from base to head while watching for Tim's reaction, a thick moan buzzing in his throat as he follows a string of saliva back to Tim's head to taste him.
"Fuck...taste so fucking sweet, baby," he groans against Tim's hot flesh, but his mouth can only be used for one thing at a time and he opts for more of Tim over more words. He tips his head to kiss down Tim's length, letting his erection smear messily along his cheek before tonguing an open-mouthed circumference around the glistening head. He pants, breathing hard as he tries and fails to shuffle closer on his knees, so he ends up arching forward so he can take Tim down between his parted lips in one smooth motion.
It's so good. Better than Tim could have even dreamed it. Dick is so damn enthusiastic, licking and suckling and getting his face messy with Tim's pre. It's something Tim wishes he could hold onto for far longer than it lasts before Dick is impatient and nips his underwear down too. But at this point, Tim will have a hard time stopping him.
He would love to say he's still in control, but fuck if Dick's mouth doesn't make him want to just release Dick from his chains and get on his knees for him.
"That's---so good," he breathes, tipping his head back and then forward again since he can't resist watching. He rewards Dick by stepping closer, feeding the rest inch by inch to Dick until the whole thing is slid in. "Hold me like this a minute. Lemme see how long you can do it."
The flush on Tim’s cheeks is so adorably sexy and it only urges him on, making him want to please Tim even more. The encouragement helps, too, and he hums around a mouthful at the praise. It makes him try even harder, tipping his head back as to suck Tim in as every new inch stuffs into his mouth.
He focuses on breathing through his nose as he watches Tim look down at him, then swallows hard to bite back his gag reflex as Tim bumps against the back of his throat. Still, he can feel his eyes prickling, and his body reacting instinctively to tug against the chains as Tim keeps sliding in still. He tips his head back even more to open up his throat, choking back a moan as Tim says that.
He could never back down from a challenge, so he stays put with the tip of his nose pressed to Tim’s lower abdomen, hazy warm eyes staring up as he feels his throat work around the hardness in his mouth. He can’t breathe like this, can’t move like this, can only stamp down the panic crawling up his chest and sink into the heavy heat pooling in his gut. He wants to please Tim, to impress him, and holds himself in place even when his lungs burn and he starts feeling that intoxicating, fuzzy, light headspace, shutting the whole world down to only Tim standing over him. Tim’s touch, Tim’s voice, Tim’s every movement and every whim.
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The replacement.
It's a wild, wonderful thought to have. And it fills Tim with a hell of a lot of emotions.
"I'm... gonna need your safe word."
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Dick almost groans with the heat of arousal that curls along his body, all that desire held at bay reignited with that simple ask.
"Azul." Blue, in Spanish, a part of Ala Azul who was the saviour he needed when he was in that dark isolation cell, the inspiration behind Nightwing. Darkened eyes hold Tim's now, filled with warm desire as he swallows hard.
"What's yours, baby?"
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Tim’s words take on a sexy mean edge and Dick can’t help the smile that starts curling on his mouth. Sweetheart.
“Do you find me sweet like this? Sweet enough to taste?”
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Right then, Tim really wishes he had things to help this conversation along. Whips, floggers, a fleshlight would be ideal. Things to tease and torment Dick with. Maybe even a gag, because Dick loves to run his mouth and cutting that off would probably really get him going.
As it is, Tim will make do.
He stretches a tennis-shoe clad boot out, testing Dick's resolve to see this through as he pushes it on top of Dick's hard length.
"Are you going to behave for me?"
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Never did he imagine this is how it'd be with Tim. During those weak moments when his mind wander, when he would think about how Tim might be in bed, that strong, lithe body would be spread out under him, perhaps riding him, lean thighs framing out his hips, perhaps both those wiry wrists held in his hands. Not the other way around. Not like this, those sharp words and gaze pinning him in place, holding him completely at Tim's mercy.
It's intoxicating.
"Depends," he echoes, voice husky as he smirks up at Tim, biting his own lower lip as his gaze crawls down Tim's body, looking shamelessly over him for the first time. He draws in another shaky breath. He really does like to run his mouth, and he'll use it for as long as he has it at his disposal. Until Tim figures out what else his mouth can do.
"What if I wanna find out what you'll do if I don't?"
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It's a dangerous calculation. But Tim's willing to explore what it does to Dick to hear that.
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"You--you wouldn't." The smirk slides off his face and he instinctively wants to reach out, his shoulders and arms flexing beneath the ropes as he struggles. His cock starts weeping and a whine scrapes out his parted lips. The thought that Bruce would come here, perhaps stand beside Tim, the two of them putting him in his place until he begs for mercy. The shame crawls down his throat and pools desperately in the pit of his stomach. He shakes his head.
"Tim...don't. Don't leave me to him."
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Tim gets it. Or else he wouldn't have tested the boundaries.
"You don't want him to see you like this?" Tim asks, stroking his rubber sole up and down Dick's length, leaving behind red raw marks that will fade quickly. "I bet he'd like it, having you completely at his mercy."
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"He would," a groan cuts off his words, the idea of Bruce doing whatever he wanted to him, without Dick having a single say at all. The thought riles him up bad, the strain against the ropes blooming a sheen over his skin. "He'd make me so sorry for it if he had me this way. He'd be so fucking--good. He'd hurt me so bad," Hazy eyes hold onto Tim's gaze.
"Tim," he groans Tim's name. "Is that what you want? That what you wanna see done to me?"
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Tim has no idea really. Well, he's got theories, but he's never asked either of them. It just seems inevitable. Bruce is, well, Bruce. The center of their universes whether they like it or not.
"But not today." Tim does crouch then, running his fingertips along Dick's jaw, down his neck, over his broad chest, feeling the rabid thump of his heart shaking his ribcage. "Today, you're all mine." And then he tweaks one of Dick's nipples until he's sure it'll bruise before meandering his touch lower, smoothing over Dick's groin, just above his aching cock.
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He shakes his head, denying it, even though Tim, always too smart for his own good, has already said the truth out loud. Dick would never wish Bruce's wrath upon any other one of them, would never want Tim to think it was okay that Bruce liked to pinned him down and do whatever he wanted to him.
The touch to his face pulls him out of the thought, and hazy gaze lifts to Tim's face. Those beautiful, intelligent, caring eyes.
"I'm yours, I want you, Tim, not him. I want--Fuck!," he gasps, arching into Tim's fingertips. Tim seems to know exactly what to do to keep him on a razor's edge with barely any room to breathe.
"So good, Tim, please. Please," he doesn't care how he sounds anymore, doesn't care that his hair is stuck to his forehead, that his eyes are wild, that the ropes are rubbing him raw where they're digging into his skin as he struggles closer to Tim's touch. Tim's warm touch burns in contrast to the pain and he wants more. "Touch me."
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Tim smoothes his hand up over Dick's abs, appreciating the sweat glistening on them, the flutter in Dick's stomach born from nerves raw on edge.
"The issue is, if I touch you now, you're going to come." Tim stands up, petting through Dick's hair, smoothing it back off his forehead so he can look at those eyes again. "Right?"
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Dick's eyes are desperate, widened as Tim straightens, and a keening whine squeezes out of his throat when that touch gets taken away. It takes a beat to register the question over the roar of need coursing through his body.
"No--no, I won't." As if the ring at the base of his cock isn't enough, Tim wants to hear him promise. His head tips back and a full-body shiver wracks his kneeled form as a moan slides from his parted mouth. He loves fingers in his hair. "I promise, Tim. Not 'till you say I can." A hard swallow. "I can earn it. I can make you feel good."
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And honestly, Tim sort of is.
"If that's the case, tell me what you'll do for me. How you'll be good for me and please me."
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"Anything," he promises, opening his eyes again to hazily stare up at Tim, the desire burning hot in his gaze. "I'm yours to use, I'll make you feel so good--let me... get you off, Tim. Would you fuck my mouth? Let me taste you?"
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But here, now, he's offering. And Tim's shivery with want.
"If you ask nicely," he says, stepping closer to put Dick's mouth against the zip of his fly.
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"Please?" he says, the word smothered into Tim's jeans, his hot breath dampening the fabric. "Please let me suck you off. I'll do it so good. Want you to feed me your cock, Tim." He wants nothing but to smooth his hands up the back of Tim's thighs, to palm over that cute little perky butt (yes, he's noticed), and pull him in, but all can do is curl his fingers into his palms and find Tim's zipper with his teeth. He tugs it down, all the while looking up at Tim.
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"Yeah," he murmurs. "There's my good boy." Tim pets through Dick's hair some more as a praise, like he might for a dog that took a treat gently from his palm. He lets Dick struggle to get the zip down and then helps him by unbuttoning the rest. His scent is strong there, and he's half hard just from seeing Dick like this. There's a flush on his face that says despite how easy he's making it look, this isn't something he does often. "Show me what you can do," he adds, tugging his jeans down to his thighs and stepping closer to smother Dick's face against the bulge in his boxer briefs.
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"Mmmm...look at you," he bites his own lip in anticipation as he watches those jeans get pushed down slim hips, unable to help the way his own hips shift when a bead of precum drips down his straining length. As soon as Tim steps in close, Dick presses his face in again, groaning from the musky scent that greets him, pulling him in for more. Wetly, eagerly, he kisses down Tim's length, mouths gently around his sensitive balls, then up again, tonguing along that slowly hardening length over the thin fabric of boxer-briefs. It'll be easy to see that he enjoys this deeply, down to the heated look he gives Tim as he opens his eyes to find the waistband of Tim's underwear with his teeth.
The slightest smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he peels them down, one that falters again when a pang of desire practically twists torturously inside him as he looks at Tim. He swallows hard as his mouth waters at the sight of Tim's cock. He could only describe it as the most perfect combination of pretty and sexy, and exactly the thing he needed more than anything right now. Without missing another beat, he laps a hot stripe from base to head while watching for Tim's reaction, a thick moan buzzing in his throat as he follows a string of saliva back to Tim's head to taste him.
"Fuck...taste so fucking sweet, baby," he groans against Tim's hot flesh, but his mouth can only be used for one thing at a time and he opts for more of Tim over more words. He tips his head to kiss down Tim's length, letting his erection smear messily along his cheek before tonguing an open-mouthed circumference around the glistening head. He pants, breathing hard as he tries and fails to shuffle closer on his knees, so he ends up arching forward so he can take Tim down between his parted lips in one smooth motion.
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He would love to say he's still in control, but fuck if Dick's mouth doesn't make him want to just release Dick from his chains and get on his knees for him.
"That's---so good," he breathes, tipping his head back and then forward again since he can't resist watching. He rewards Dick by stepping closer, feeding the rest inch by inch to Dick until the whole thing is slid in. "Hold me like this a minute. Lemme see how long you can do it."
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He focuses on breathing through his nose as he watches Tim look down at him, then swallows hard to bite back his gag reflex as Tim bumps against the back of his throat. Still, he can feel his eyes prickling, and his body reacting instinctively to tug against the chains as Tim keeps sliding in still. He tips his head back even more to open up his throat, choking back a moan as Tim says that.
He could never back down from a challenge, so he stays put with the tip of his nose pressed to Tim’s lower abdomen, hazy warm eyes staring up as he feels his throat work around the hardness in his mouth. He can’t breathe like this, can’t move like this, can only stamp down the panic crawling up his chest and sink into the heavy heat pooling in his gut. He wants to please Tim, to impress him, and holds himself in place even when his lungs burn and he starts feeling that intoxicating, fuzzy, light headspace, shutting the whole world down to only Tim standing over him. Tim’s touch, Tim’s voice, Tim’s every movement and every whim.