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Dick's leg bounces nervously, his hands clasped together to keep them from fidgeting.
A large hand settles on his knee, and Dick jumps before relaxing, trying to calm his anxious heart rate as he turns his head to offer Clark, sitting next to him, a smile.
Clark's answering smile is warm and instantly soothes some of Dick's nerves. He relaxes against the older man, head tilting to rest on his shoulder. Clark's arm wraps around him, securing him against his side, and Dick feels most of the remaining tension drain out of him. He's safe here. He doesn't have to be anxious, everything is going to be okay. Clark would never let anything bad happen to him.
He's just—he's never really done anything like this before. He and Clark have been sleeping together for a few months now, and it's been—really amazing. He never thought he'd find something like this, be so loved by someone so wonderful. Clark is Superman, and somehow Dick was deemed worthy of not only spending time with him, but sharing his bed.
Dick is just Dick, but Clark always looks at him like he's special, tells him he's amazing and deserves the world, acts like Clark is the lucky one instead of the other way around. Whenever they try new things, Dick gets—anxious, but it's only because trying new things can be...scary, for anything. He always pushes through that anxiety, because Clark loves him and he loves Clark and that's all that matters.
This is just another new thing. It's just—just like everything else. But it's bigger, and Dick is nervous, and he can't quite get himself to stop being nervous no matter how hard he tries.
Clark asked him a million times if he was actually alright with this. Made sure that Dick was willing and happy and not just doing it to make him happy. Which...well, Dick is doing it to make Clark happy, because Clark made it clear how much he wants this, but isn't that part of being in a relationship? Sometimes you do things you might not like for your partner. And Clark looked so happy when Dick said yes, and looks so happy now.
How could Dick ruin that? He wants Clark to be happy. He doesn't want him to be disappointed in him. And Clark always takes care of him, so this is going to be okay.
From down the hall there's the sound of the zeta whirring to life, and Clark rubs his thigh soothingly as Dick tenses up again.
"You alright?" Clark asks, his nose brushing over the top of Dick's head, and Dick nods, unable to voice an agreement at the moment.
He and Clark are in the section of the Watchtower meant for whenever the members of the Justice League were staying over for whatever reason. It isn't Clark's bedroom—Clark explained that it might be too small for all of them—but a larger living area with couches and tables and a TV and even a minifridge filled with snacks. It's a little cold, the way the Watchtower always seems to be, and the walls are an eerie blank white, but it's all nothing Dick can't handle.
Footsteps echo, and then the door is pushing open as four people walk inside.
Unlike Clark, who is currently dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt, the others are all in costume. It makes Dick swallow, a little star struck being face to face with Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Green Arrow. He hasn't met any of them since that first meeting—Dick doesn't get why Bruce won't let him, he's trained enough to do a team up!—so he isn't familiar with them the way he is with Clark. He...doesn't really know what to expect.
But, like. They're the Justice League, so. So it's all going to be okay. They're superheroes. It might...hurt, a little, if sex with Clark has been any indication, but it won't be bad. They would never intentionally hurt him. He's safe here. They're the Justice League.
"Couldn't convince J'onn?" Clark asks, with a distant sort of curiosity.
"Ten years on Earth and the guy still doesn't have any interest," Green Arrow says with a snort. They've all walked further into the room, and both Green Arrow and Wonder Woman sit down. Green Lantern perches on the arm of Green Arrow's armchair, and Aquaman leans against the wall, loosely crossing his arms.
"And I didn't even bother asking Barry," Green Arrow continues. "You know his thing about kids—he might get some ridiculous notion in his head to try and stop us. Hypocrite, if you ask me."
Dick frowns. A thing about kids? Is Green Arrow referring to him? Dick isn't a kid, he's sixteen! Clark's told him how mature he is for his age, how much wiser he is than people twice his age. He isn't a kid. Maybe this 'Barry' just doesn't get that.
Past the offense, though, Dick can't say that he's...upset about the absence. It's one less person being involved in all of this; he won't complain about that.
They really are intimating. They're all big, seem larger than life with their costumes and masks firmly in place. Their weapons are at least absent—or, their more obvious weapons are absent—but that doesn't really make them feel like any less of a threat.
But it's. Everything's okay. He remembers talking to these people, when Bruce introduced them. They were all really nice. Martian Manhunter was kind of aloof, and Aquaman seemed a little distant, but Green Arrow had been welcoming and excited to meet him, and Wonder Woman had said such kind things and looked at him with a warm expression, and Green Lantern had teased him and joked with him like a friend might, so it's all—good. It's good.
"Hello, Robin," Wonder Woman greets, the first to actually acknowledge him past giving him a few looks. Dick likes that she calls him Robin, despite the fact that he's currently sans mask. It feels like a respect thing. Makes him feel a little bit more powerful, too.
He isn't just a sixteen-year-old boy surrounded by the Justice League. He's Robin.
"Hi," Dick says with a shy smile. He's looking at her, but out of the corner of his eye he sees both Green Arrow and Green Lantern smile. Or maybe it's closer to a smirk, Dick can't tell from this angle. He can't take his eyes off Wonder Woman. "It's nice to see you again."
Wonder Woman smiles kindly at him. It's not the same as Clark, but it's still a look that fills him with warmth. "You as well. My name is Diana, and this is Hal, Oliver, and Arthur."
She points to each Justice League member in turn, and Dick's floored by how easily they've all shared themselves with him. Sure, they know his identity, but that's—different. They already knew Bruce's, so it wouldn't be hard to figure out anyway, and he's not—he's not quite like them. They're on a whole other level than he is. The trust of giving him their names...he's honored.
Clark's hand lifts to Dick's chin, and he tilts Dick to face him. Dick has barely a moment to blink before Clark's lips are on his, the kiss starting soft and comforting before steadily deepening.
Dick's eyes are wide—it happened so suddenly, and does that mean they're starting? Already?—but he gets with the program quickly, sinking into the familiar feeling of kissing Clark. Clark always kisses so passionately, so all-consuming, making Dick feel dizzy under the force of it. It shows how much Clark cares about him, how desperate he is to pull Dick against himself and nearly suck the air from his lungs. It means he matters.
Clark pulls back, nipping briefly at Dick's lips with a smile that Dick returns. "Ready to make me feel good, sweet boy?"
Dick swallows and nods. He likes making Clark feel good. It hurts sometimes, but that's okay. Because Clark is always so kind, especially afterwards. He always takes care of Dick and Dick loves that more than anything.
Clark opens his pants and pulls out his cock, giving himself a few strokes. After all this time Dick is well aware of how big Clark is compared to humans, but it's still always wild to see. That's something that's been in him. It's gigantic, and somehow Dick has taken it again and again, has allowed Clark to push inside of him and get even bigger as he comes. Dick wonders if he'll ever completely adjust to that.
He can feel four extra pairs of eyes on him as he lowers his head to Clark's crotch, taking the head of his cock into his mouth and slowly sinking down. It fills his mouth almost immediately, stretching his lips around it and making his jaw already begin to ache. But he pushes past the feeling, past the moment of panic, breathing through his nose and focusing on taking as much of Clark as he can.
He's gotten better at this, the more they've done it. In the beginning Clark had to do all the work, pull Dick up and down on his cock, but then he taught Dick what to do, and Dick got better at making him feel good.
He puts that knowledge to use now, curling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks to suck, bobbing his head up and down. Clark's hand settles on the back of his neck and squeezes gently, just a comforting gesture, letting Dick set the pace for now. But Dick knows that touch means Clark wants him to go further, even if he won't ask for it. He's kind like that.
So Dick presses deeper, taking more of Clark into his mouth. His jaw aches, and he has to be careful to curl his lips over his teeth, but he keeps going, not stopping even when the head of his cock pokes at the back of his throat. He suppresses the brief panic, taking deep breaths through his nose as Clark's cock slides into his throat.
"Jesus," someone says. Not Clark. "How long did it take you to train him to do that?"
Dick's cheeks redden, embarrassed for some reason he can't identify, and is soothed by the way Clark's fingers scratch lightly through the soft hairs in the nape of his neck.
"Dick's a fast learner," Clark murmurs, voice roughened slightly from pleasure. "Always so good for me."
The compliment floods Dick with warmth, and when Clark's hips rock up—pushing him deeper into Dick's throat—Dick stays in place and takes it, wanting to prove that Clark is right that Dick is good and can do this.
Clark starts pushing up again and again, his hand on Dick's neck tightening just a little to keep him in place. Tears prick Dick's eyes as an automatic reaction to the cock beginning to thrust in and out of his throat, but he doesn't fight, instead relaxing as much as he can and letting Clark do as he wants.
"What a sight," someone mutters, lust in their voice, and Dick shivers with something that isn't quite fear. He's never...been with anyone other than Clark before. And now he's—now he's in a room with five people, all of whom are here to...be with him.
There's a rustle, and Dick has enough awareness to feel someone approaching the couch where he and Clark are. The cushion behind Dick dips, and he tenses when a broad hand strokes across his ass, a second quickly rising to join it. The hands squeeze, and Dick jolts, instinctively trying to scoot forward to escape the touch.
There's nowhere to go, though. Clark is still inside of him, Dick on his knees on the couch and bent over the older man's lap, the position lifting his ass slightly in the air. And besides he shouldn't—he doesn't need to escape. He agreed to this, this is what he's here for. It isn't going to just be Clark putting his hands on him.
Dick does his best to calm down, relaxing into the rhythm of Clark thrusting up again and again, comforted by the familiarity of Clark so close. He doesn't try to move as the hands on his ass continue to squeeze and explore, one reaching around to palm Dick through his pants.
It draws a soft moan from Dick, and the man behind him chuckles. "Damn, Kal, you've been holding out on us, keeping this little whore to yourself. What an ass."
Dick chokes at the term, eyes going wide. He's not a—why would they call him that? Why would they...
"Wait 'till you actually see it," Clark says, not stopping despite the way Dick is now sputtering around his cock as he tries to reach the equilibrium he had before the man called him that. But it's okay, Dick doesn't expect Clark to stop; that's never how this works. Dick isn't selfish, he isn't going to fight and ruin Clark's time just because he's struggling a little.
"Don't mind if I do."
Then suddenly Dick's pants are being ripped off. Cool air drags goosebumps to existence as it hits him, and he shivers, feeling terribly exposed, even more so when someone—neither Clark nor the man behind him—says, with a laugh in their voice, "Shit, you weren't kidding!"
Dick's face flushes. He can feel all their eyes on him, watching as Clark fucks his throat, as someone else plays with his bare ass. He didn't know what this would feel like when he first agreed, didn't know there would be a thread of embarrassment, of humiliation, of the desire to hide. It...isn't a pleasant feeling.
He just wants to go back to Clark's apartment and be alone with him, maybe just cuddle and watch a movie. He doesn't want to do this anymore.
But he—he agreed to this, and he knows it would be rude and selfish to try to stop it all now. He doesn't want Clark to be disappointed in him, or hate him. He agreed. So it's. So it's all okay. They won't actually hurt him.
Clark's thrusts pick up, fucking roughly up into his mouth and throat, pulling Dick down to meet each one by the grip on the back of his neck. Tears are flowing freely down Dick's face now, and his hands grip at Clark's pants to ground himself.
A finger pushes into his ass. It's lubed at least, but it's large and sudden enough that Dick whines. His focus is almost immediately pulled away from it though when he feels Clark begin to get bigger in his mouth, swelling as he approaches his end, and Dick does his best to breathe through it until his airway is completely blocked off.
Usually, Clark doesn't come down his throat. Dick likes to think that's because he knows how panicked it can make Dick, how his Kryptonian biology makes it so that he gets way too big and Dick can't breathe and then he's stuck there, not breathing, until Clark has come and softened and decided to pull out.
Dick passed out, once. It was taking too long, and he's been trained to hold his breath but Clark was holding him in place, unaware of his struggling, and the black creeped in and Dick was done. He woke up to Clark hovering above him, and then Clark wrapped him up in a blanket and fed him some grapes so it was all worth it in the end.
His lungs constrict as he desperately, instinctively tries to pull in air. Clark's cock pulses, his hips stuttering, and a hot rush of liquid fills Dick, spilling right down his throat because of how deep he is. Dick tries to stay calm, to not fight, because that can make everything feel so much worse. He just has to wait for Clark to finish, and then he can breathe again. It's okay.
Black spots are beginning to dot the edges of his vision, his hands beginning to scramble without his permission, when Clark finally shrinks back to his normal size and he pulls Dick off his cock.
Dick greedily sucks in air, coughing and panting against Clark's thigh. Clark strokes a hand through his hair soothingly, and Dick tries to focus on that sensation rather than the one in his ass that suddenly comes rushing back into focus.
There's more than one finger inside of him now. There's...there's three, and they're spreading around, working to stretch him out. They thrust in and out almost haphazardly, none of the focused precision Clark always does it with.
"He can take it," Clark says, still petting Dick's head. "That's enough."
Dick's brow furrows; is Clark talking about prep? Is he...is he telling the man behind him to start fucking him? Dick wouldn't mind some more prep. They're lubed and he...supposes they've been in him for a little while, but even four fingers is never enough to make it completely comfortable to have sex with Clark.
Well, none of them are probably as big as Clark, right? They're all human. Well, Arthur isn't, but that's...more of a technicality. So maybe with human men, three fingers is more than enough? Besides, Clark would never hurt him; if he says Dick's ready, then he's ready.
The fingers withdraw, and then a cockhead is pressing at Dick's entrance. He breathes deeply, trying his hardest to relax, knowing it will only hurt more if he's tense. Clark has chastised him in the past for tensing, for making it harder for them both. He doesn't want to do that today, especially since—since there's more than one of them.
The man—and Dick wishes he knew which one of them it was, but he can't see from where his head is pressed to Clark's thigh—is fully sheathed in no time, hips pressing flat. He doesn't move immediately, his hands squeezing Dick's ass, pulling his cheeks apart.
He starts with small rocks of his hips, still holding Dick's cheeks open, and a breathless chuckle comes from him. "Look at his little hole fluttering around me."
Dick presses his face into Clark's thigh, feeling...ashamed, though he doesn't get why.
"So Crass, Oliver," Clark says, but he sounds amused more than anything else. Dick's nearly grateful for it, because at least now he knows that the man currently inside of him is Green Arrow.
"I bet you've thought the same things a million times over," Oliver shoots back, and Dick can hear the smile in his voice. His thrusts pick up a little, his hands releasing Dick's ass to instead grab his hips, hiking them up to a better angle for him to fuck into Dick. It's rough, and hurts a little, but three fingers apparently are enough because it doesn't hurt any worse than it does with Clark.
"You mind if someone takes your place?" another voice asks, and for a moment Dick is confused—Oliver just started, and they're asking to switch?—but then Dick realizes suddenly that the person is talking to Clark.
Clark must agree because he shifts beneath Dick, lifting him to scoot to the edge of the couch. Dick whimpers, gripping at his clothes to try to keep him in place, but Clark is a million times stronger than him without even trying and easily disentangles his grasp.
Dick doesn't want him to go. This is all so strange, and a little—it's a little scary, but at least Clark was there with him. Now he's leaving and he'll probably stay in the room but Dick can't see him or feel him and it's just—he just wants Clark back.
Someone takes Clark's place instantly. Dick sees the green and black telling him at least who it is, but he has barely any time to acknowledge that it's Green Lantern before he's being yanked up onto his hands and knees and forced into position and Hal steps up to the edge of the couch, pulling Dick's head towards his crotch.
The suit peels back with a green glow, leaving Hal mostly clothed but allowing his cock to pop out, which he instantly pulls Dick down on.
Dick chokes at the suddenness of it before he remembers himself and relaxes, suppressing his gag reflex and letting Hal fucks down into his throat.
Hal and Oliver are nothing like Clark. The way Clark has sex—it's powerful and forceful and overwhelming, but always purposeful. There's a control to him, even when he lets loose, that always leaves Dick gasping for air and feeling—consumed.
But these two—they fuck hard and rough, but with no real rhythm, nothing for Dick to sink into or adjust to, simply seeking out their own pleasure. They jerk him back and forth between them, leaving Dick lightheaded and dizzy and unable to do anything but rock back and forth and let himself be used.
Because he does feel used. They aren't acting like they care about him, or what happens to him, or making him feel good too. They're treating him like he's just—just a sex toy.
He wants to give them the benefit of the doubt though. Because they're—these are two people who save the world on a daily basis, who dedicate their lives to the care of others. And they're Clark's friends. So maybe they just can't tell. Maybe they're just feeling so good, so turned on, that they don't understand that they're acting like he's an object.
Clark sometimes gets so lost in the moment that he gets a little rougher than he meant to. Sometimes it's just hard for him to understand his own strength, in comparison to humans. Dick can't even imagine how stressful that must be for him, considering how much he wants to help people.
Drool dribbles down Dick's chin as Hal forces himself in and out of his mouth. One of his hands is tangled in Dick's hair, jerking him roughly on each thrust, and the other is cupping his neck, allowing him to feel his own cock moving.
Oliver's hands are a bruising grip on Dick's hips, fingers digging in enough that they hurt. Dick wonders if they actually will leave bruises; Clark does, often, and it's always stressful to keep them hidden from Bruce. It takes a lot of effort to keep something so huge from the world's greatest detective, but Bruce wouldn't understand. He just. He wouldn't.
Oliver slaps Dick's ass, and Dick yelps, clenching down automatically in response. Oliver moans, muttering, "Shit," under his breath, and then slaps Dick again and again, bringing his hand down in the same spot over and over and making Dick's eyes sting from the pain, a groan climbing up his throat.
The groan turns into a wail when Oliver drags his fingernails across the area he'd been spanking, and Dick thrashes instinctively, trying to escape the pain.
They keep him in place easily. They laugh.
"He's adorable," Oliver coos. "Damn, Kal, I see why you've been keeping this one around."
"Yeah and it has nothing to do with his dick measuring contest with Bats," Hal snorts.
Dick has no idea what they mean. Clark keeps him around because they're in love, and why are they calling him by his Kryptonian name instead of the one his Ma gave him? And dick measuring contest? No, he and Bruce are friends. Bruce would never admit that of course—calls this entire team his colleagues—but Clark admits it freely and happily. There's no...competing, and certainly not over Dick.
Dick wants this to end now. He's—he's exhausted and his throat really hurts from having it fucked twice so close together and his ass is burning from being hit and because Oliver is fucking with abandon now and it's just—it's—it's too much.
Dick lets out a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks. There's nothing to do though. He's stuck between them, being yanked back and forth between the two superheroes as they take what they want from his body.
"Hal," Clark says, something resembling reproach in his voice.
The Lantern makes a derisive noise. "It's fine, I'm not giving anything away."
It's completely without warning that Hal comes in Dick's mouth. Dick sputters, gaging, but Hal doesn't allow him to pull back, instead forcing his cock deeper and forcing Dick to swallow rather than choke.
"Take it, baby," Hal groans. "Go on, take it all. Goddamn, made for this. Fuck."
When Hal finally pulls out, he slaps Dick's cheek with his slick cock, making Dick flinch. Tears are flowing freely down his face, and he can feel Hal's cum smear against his skin, making nausea churn in his gut.
"Lick me clean," Hal orders, and Dick is too exhausted to do anything other than immediately comply. He dips his tongue out, vision blurry as he works to lick off all the cum clinging to Hal's cock from fucking through his orgasm. It's hard to do, with Oliver still fucking him roughly and making him jerk back and forth on the couch.
"Good boy," Hal says when Dick's finally finished, and the words bring even more tears to Dick's eyes.
He wants to be good. He wants to make Clark proud, and be good for the Justice League. He wants to make them all happy.
His arms, which had been shaking for a little while, give out. His face hits the cushion, soft against his wet face, and the new position puts him in an arch that Oliver must enjoy because he gives a long moan, yanking Dick back by the hips to meet his every thrust. Dick lets his eyes slip shut, collapsing bonelessly and letting himself be used, just waiting for it to be over.
"Pick him up," a rough voice commands, and Dick stirs faintly as an arm wraps around his midsection, hauling him upright until he splays back against Oliver's chest, head lolling. The new position pushes Oliver's cock even deeper inside of him, and he mewls, the noise drowned out by Oliver's moan.
Aquaman is approaching the couch, and he swings a leg up, sliding between Dick's own. His hands are firm but not painful when he grabs Dick's hips and angles him up a little, shuffling even closer and pinning Dick between his chest and Oliver's.
"Holy fuck," Oliver breathes, but Dick doesn't understand what's going on, what Arthur's doing so close. If he wants...if he wants to be in Dick's mouth, then this is really not the position for it.
But then something is poking at his ass beside Oliver's cock, and panic floods Dick's system.
"No," he says, throat burning and the word coming out as barely more than a croak. He twists in Oliver's hold, trying to pull away, but his arm is a steel band around him and Dick feels so weak. "No, please, you can't—it won't—"
"Quiet, child," Arthur says, firm but not unkind. "You will be fine."
And that's all Dick gets before Arthur is pressing up. The head of his cock slips first, and Dick has a moment of relief that maybe he really won't be able to get it, maybe he's safe, but then it pops in beside Oliver's and Dick can't breathe.
Arthur has slicked up his cock thoroughly, at least. But it's still not enough, nothing would be enough. Dick feels like someone is shoving a flagpole up his ass, the combined size of Oliver and Arthur together burning up his insides and lighting his nerves on fire.
"Please," Dick sobs. "It—it hurts, please, it—Clark—"
A familiar hand lands gently on Dick's hand, and Dick sobs, pressing up into the touch desperately. Clark will never let anything bad happen to him.
"Shh," Clark says, stroking his hair. "You're alright, sweet boy. You can do it, can't you? You're so strong, so dedicated. You can accomplish anything you set your mind to. Don't you want to do this, sweet boy? Want to make us all so very happy?"
Dick blinks up at him, vision blurring with tears, and sees Clark's familiar soft smile swimming above him. He looks so sure, positive that Dick can do anything. Looking at him like he's something wonderful.
Dick closes his eyes and slumps against Oliver's chest, giving in. He can feel himself trembling, but he focuses on the feeling on Clark's hand on his head, trying to tune out the steady pressure of Arthur pushing in beside Oliver.
It still hurts, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. He whines, nearly biting through his lip before Arthur swipes a thumb across it, tugging his lip free of his teeth. He's pulled into a kiss, and it's—near clinical, no passion, just deepness like Arthur is truly just exploring his mouth.
He can tell, when Arthur is fully inside him. Their hips press flush together, Dick's legs spread wide to accommodate his size. He feels—everything aches, burns, a deep throb that is spreading through his entire body. He's trembling and he can't stop it no matter how hard he tries.
He sobs when Arthur and Oliver begin to move. They grind against each other inside of Dick, Arthur pulling Dick up and down on them to aid in the effort.
"Look at Arthur, fucking someone other than his wife or that kid that follows him around," Hal says, laughter in his voice.
"And a human nonetheless," is Wonder Woman's smooth response, and Dick jolts. She'd been so quiet, so unobtrusive, that Dick forgot that she was here at all.
She felt like far less of a threat, too. She might be out on the battlefield, but here—well, she's the only one without a body part to stick inside of him.
Dick can hear them all passing comments back and forth, but he's finally had enough, tuning out what's being said. He gasps for air on every thrust, trying to not cry out, to be brave like Clark wants him to be. He's not a child. This is what grownups do.
Oliver comes with a long, low moan. His head dips and he bites down, digging his teeth into the junction of Dick's neck and shoulder. Dick can barely manage a mewl at the pain that sparks.
Arthur lifts Dick off of Oliver's softening cock. He settles back against the couch with Dick on his lap, taking two firm handfuls of Dick's ass and using the grip to start bouncing Dick on his cock, grunting as he manipulates Dick's body for his own pleasure.
Dick stays limp, unable to muster up any energy. He doubts he's being very sexy right now, but he just—he doesn't have anything left in him.
He barely notices when Arthur finishes. He can feel himself being moved, strong arms lifting him and rearranging him until he's back on his stomach on the couch, his knees folded underneath him and arms splayed limply.
A hand, calloused and smaller than the ones that have grabbed him so far, strokes down the side of his face and then cups his chin, lifting his head. Dick forces his eyes open, blinking to clear his vision, and finds Diana sitting with him now.
She has her back against the armrest of the couch, one knee crooked up and the other hanging off the edge. She smiles when their gazes meet, but there's something...hard in her eyes that makes him shiver.
"Come here," she murmurs, drawing him closer. Dick shuffles forward, too exhausted to argue, until his head is between her thighs. "Have you ever done this?"
Dick blinks slowly. He just shakes his head, unable to find his voice. Perfectly aware that any talking would hurt.
"That's alright. Clark has told me you're very good with your tongue. Just follow my instructions, and all will be well."
He does so, mindlessly. He lets her direct him, telling him how to lick, to push in his tongue, where to suck. He just wants to be good, follow all her instructions, make her proud. She's Clark's best friend, next to Bruce. She's Wonder Woman. He wants to make her feel good.
When she comes, Dick laps it all up, only stopping when she tells him to, nudging him back—
—Back onto someone else.
Dick whines, trying to move away from the person grabbing at his hips and pulling him into position, but it's—it's—
"Shh," Clark says, one hand stroking soothingly down Dick's spine while the other one stays firmly wrapped his hip, holding Dick in place with the ease of a god he is. "Shh, Dick. Just me."
"Please," Dick whimpers. He wants to be done. He hurts. Clark is only going to make it all hurt more. He—he loves Clark but Clark is big and sometimes he uses his strength too much and Dick just wants this to stop.
"I'll give you what you want," Clark promises, apparently misinterpreting Dick's plea, and Dick can only give a moan of distress before Clark's cock is thrusting inside of him.
Clark's hand is firm and warm on his back, and Dick tries to remember that it's Clark above him, inside of him. Clark would never hurt him. He just wants to make Dick feel good like he's made everyone else feel good. He just doesn't understand that humans can take a lot less, especially on this end of things.
He lets out little mewls and whimpers and whines as Clark fucks him, staying limp to make it easier, to let Clark go as hard as he wants without having to put up with any unpleasant tensing. He's good. He can be good.
Clark swells, but it's barely a twinge of the pain it normally would be after everything Dick's experienced tonight. His come spills thick and heavy into Dick's ass, and Clark fucks through the orgasm, his cock dragging against Dick's insides before finally pulling out.
Dick collapses fully against the couch, tears leaking from his eyes at the fact that it seems to be finally, blessedly, over.
He feels like a mess. His entire body is shaking against his will, unable to move. There's cum dripping out of his ass, a large amount after the three men who came inside of him; it stains his thighs, too, disgusting and sticky, covering his skin and making him feel dirty. His mouth tastes of the substance as well, and his throat feels like he gargled glass. His ass feels like—
Well, like he got fucked by three men.
A pair of fingers swipe up his thigh and then press into his ass. They pump in and out with a wet squelching noise, obscene enough that Dick's sure his face would heat if he had the energy to be embarrassed.
"Such a good little whore," someone says, and it sounds like Clark but it couldn't possibly be; Clark would never call him that.
"The fact that you don't keep him like this all hours of the day is impressive," someone drawls, and Dick is too tired to try to place the voice to a name. "You've got a ready and willing little fucktoy right here, and yet you keep letting him fly away."
No, Dick's brain must be scrambled, he must be mishearing them. Because this is—they're the Justice League. They wouldn't...they'd never...
"It's part of the game," a feminine voice says, an amused tilt to her voice. There's a round of agreeing chuckles.
"You should bring him back to the Manor just like this. Show Bats just how thoroughly we've wrecked his boy."
"Not yet," is the reply, no more than a murmur, and the fingers finally pull out of his ass, wiping off on his back. "We still have so much training left to do—Dick has to be completely loyal by the time we show Bruce what's been under his nose this entire time. But trust me, I do have a few ideas for that reveal..."