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This isn’t the first time Neal’s been in Dick’s apartment, but it’s the first time since… It’s the first time in a while. Yet here he is, sitting on the kitchen counter while Dick tends to a bruise on Neal’s forehead. It stings a bit. Not much, but enough for him to hiss and flinch each time Dick presses the ice pack against his skin.
He turns his head, half expecting Jason to be there. Half expecting him to say something about cats and hissing.
“Stop moving,” Dick says, turning Neal’s head back to face him. His tone is sharp, stinging, and biting. The same as it has been since he got back and found out about Jason.
“Sorry,” Neal whispers.
Tears prick at his eyes. Dick is angry with him. Not an unusual turn of events–Dick is angry at just about everyone these days–but it’s always painful when Neal is on the receiving end of his anger. He was just trying to help, really! Turns out Bruce and Selina are right, though; Neal needs more training before he can be allowed to help Nightwing.
(He can’t bring himself to be near Batman, not after what happened to Jay.)
So yeah, he shouldn’t have run out into an entanglement with some thugs, especially when Nightwing was just a block or so away and perfectly capable of handling it. But he did, and now-
He flinches as Dick applies slightly more pressure to his face.
“Sorry,” he whispers again, dropping his gaze when anger flares in Dick’s blue eyes.
Instead of ignoring him, Dick responds this time. “Why were you out there?” he asks.
“I just wanted to help,” Neal mumbles. “You’ve been so angry and stressed lately, and I figured I could try to make things easier, y’know?”
“I do,” Dick says. He puts down the ice pack he was using and runs his fingers through Neal’s hair. It feels nice and soothes him a bit. “But getting yourself injured isn’t going to make me feel any better, kid.”
God, Dick’s eyes are so blue. And right now they’re full of nothing but anger and grief, which reflects in the way he speaks. Neal wants to make those emotions go away. He wants to make Dick feel good about something for once, whether it be by showing him that Neal is capable of more than just cracking safes and forging things, or by helping him with his work.
But if nothing he’s done so far has worked, maybe something else will? Maybe he can just distract Dick from those emotions by making him feel something else. He’s seen stuff like this before, when he was living on the streets in what meager accommodations he could find. Out there, people distracted themselves by making each other feel good. Neal had never done it himself, but he knows how it works. He knows what to do.
He takes a deep breath. He wraps his arms around Dick’s neck and pulls himself up until their lips are slotted together. Dick tenses when they connect. A reflex, Neal assumes, triggered by such close proximity to another person. Then Dick’s hands are on the sides of his ribcage and pushing him away. Neal loosens his arms but doesn’t let go.
“Neal,” Dick says as soon as they part. He sounds angry and confused and maybe even a little sad. “Why did you do that?”
“You’re hurting. It- I can help.” Neal drags Dick closer, until the man is standing between his knees. “You’ll feel better.”
Hands fall to his waist. Dick’s biting his lip and adamantly looking away. Neal slides his fingers into Dick’s hair. It’s soft and a little long, and twists oh-so easily around his fingers.
“It’s not your job to help me, Neal. You’re just a kid. You- If anything, I’m the one responsible for making sure you are okay.”
Neal stares up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Fuck, he said the wrong thing, didn’t he? The kid drops his gaze, licking his lip. His legs which had previously lain lax to either side of Dick, shift up to wrap around and cross behind him. Dick swallows. His fingers dig into Neal’s hips.
“Neal…” He tries to say something more, but the words die in his throat.
Still, Neal seems to take it as an invitation to pull him closer, head tucking into Dick’s neck. Their crotches brush together. Hot breath fans his skin when Neal speaks.
“Please, Dickie. It’ll help me too.”
Lightly chapped lips and a wet tongue press against his neck in an open-mouthed kiss. His knee jerk reaction is to pull Neal in tighter and hold him there. He shouldn’t, but he does. God, the kid is only sixteen. This shouldn’t be happening. Everything about this situation is wrong.
“I can’t, Neal,” he whispers, talking more to himself than the kid. “You’re too young. I’m- I’m not a-”
Neal chooses exactly that moment to start sucking on the front of his throat, over his Adam’s apple. He moans and tilts his head back on reflex. It feels so good and he hates it so much.
But there’s a part of him that likes it. Wants it , even. He’s hard, and Neal is so warm against him, and it’s just been so long. Between missions with his team and dealing with Bruce (and Jason’s death) , he hasn’t had a chance to jack off for months, and his breakup with Kori was nearly a year ago now. So when he grabs Neal by the hair and pulls him away from his neck, it isn’t to tell him to stop; it’s to kiss him with everything he has, everything that’s been building up inside him for months and months. Neal’s right about one thing, this will be good as a stress reliever and a distraction.
Neal gasps beneath him, whining and biting Dick’s lip. Dick slides his tongue into the kid’s mouth and Neal sucks on it in a way that’s much hotter than it should be. He starts to knead at Neal’s hip and drags him closer to the edge of the counter. At this point Neal is practically hanging off, but that just means Dick has an excuse to hold on to him. His erection is pressed up against Neal, separated only by his sweatpants and Neal’s too-big boxer briefs. Boxers that are actually his , he realizes, because Neal had to change out of his uniform and doesn’t keep any spare clothes in Dick’s apartment. The thought is enough to make his head spin. He grabs onto Neal’s hips with both hands now, pulling back from the kiss to pepper more along Neal’s jaw.
“Are you sure about this kid? Just say the word and I’ll stop,” he says, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to.
“I’m sure,” Neal manages, his words punctuated by breathy little moans.
“Good.”
He leans back slightly, lifting Neal and taking a moment to adjust to holding the kid’s weight. Neal’s light, much lighter than he should be for how old he is, but Dick supposes that’s what living on the streets does to you, because he’s also shorter than he should be, and Jason was exactly the same: small. Neal whines and his legs tighten around Dick once he’s off the counter completely. It presses him even closer against Dick’s erection, trapping it between their bodies, and the sensation makes him want to bite down, but he doesn’t. If he’s going to do this, he needs to be careful about leaving marks where they’ll be seen by others.
(Even if all he really wants to do is leave marks everywhere so that everyone knows what happened here.)
It’s easy to carry Neal to his bed. The bedroom door is already open, so he just has to walk in and deposit him in the middle of the mattress. Then, still between Neal’s legs, he sits back on his heels. Neal’s face, neck, and ears are all flushed dark red, and his lips are puffy and likely on their way to being bruised. His shirt, which is far too big for him because it’s one of Dick’s from the Bludhaven police academy (and isn’t that fucking ironic), is riding up his stomach to show a smooth plane of skin with a small mole that Dick immediately zeroes in on.
“You’re so pretty, Neal,” he whispers, skimming the fingers of one hand along Neal’s thigh and under the boxers, briefly kneading at the flesh. “So pretty.”
He shuffles a foot or two down the bed so he can lean over to mouth at the skin of Neal’s stomach. His arms slip under Neal’s thighs. Neal’s fingers pull on his hair.
“Patience, kitten,” he whispers, then sucks a hickey into the skin just below Neal’s navel.
Neal keens, bucking his hips upward. “Please, please,” he whines. “I- I-” his words are cut off by a moan as Dick bites down.
“Tell me what you need, baby.”
“I- Please,” Neal says.
“Please what, baby?” He shifts down a little more, slipping his shoulders under Neal’s thighs and pressing his nose against his upper thigh. “Give you more of this? Or do you want my mouth somewhere else? On your pussy, maybe?”
And that’s what gets Neal to start shaking vigorously as he tugs Dick’s hair.
“Dickie, please, please, ple- oh, ohh, fuck.”
Dick presses his tongue against the wet patch of the boxer briefs. His boxer briefs. He laves away at it, soaking the fabric with his saliva. It’s so good and so warm, and he wants to stay there forever. But there’s one way to make this better, to make it so he can really taste Neal, without the overwhelming texture of cotton flooding his mouth.
He sits up, Neal getting dragged along by the hands still grasping his hair. Dickstarts to pull down the boxers and Neal, recognizing the action, briefly lifts his hips off the mattress to accommodate. Dick pulls them off the rest of the way and tosses them to the floor. He pushes Neal back down with one hand.
“You’re doing so good for me,” Dick says, breathing against Neal’s skin. “Such a good boy.” He presses a light kiss to the mound above Neal’s engorged clit as he swings Neal’s leg over his right shoulder. “With such a pretty little pussy.”
And Neal’s pussy is so pretty. It’s hairless and wet and when he reaches up to spread the outer folds he can see Neal’s cunthole fluttering around nothing. Slick gushes out and drips down into his asscrack. With one final glance at Neal’s face, full of apprehension and nervousness, Dick presses the flat of his tongue to Neal’s cunt and licks a stripe all the way from his hole to his t-dick. They both moan; Neal at the sensation and Dick at the taste of him.
God, Neal tastes so good. He’s salty and sweet and tangy and fucking perfect . Neal’s fingers tighten in his hair as he sucks on his t-dick, lightly scraping it with his teeth. He has to hold Neal down by the hips to keep him from trying to buck up into his face.
“Dickie, Dick, stop, I’m gon- gonna-”
That’s all the warning Dick gets, and it’s all the warning he needs. He dips back down to Neal’s hole and presses his tongue in just as the kid’s whole body convulses. Neal’s orgasm washes over him, soaking the lower portion of Dick’s face. He keeps fucking him with his tongue, drinking down as much as he can while Neal rides it out with little gasps and moans.
Only when Neal starts tugging harder at his hair does he draw back and look up. Neal has a wild look to him, with pupils blown wide, hair plastered to his forehead, and a bottom lip that’s bitten and bruised. Dick’s quick to move up Neal’s body to capture his lips in a deep kiss. The teen beneath him writhes and moans, and when Dick starts kissing down to his collarbone, leaving behind a wet trail, he tries taking off his shirt. Dick grabs one of his hands and lightly nips at his skin.
“Keep it on,” he says, “You’re so pretty in my clothes.”
He knows it’s wrong, that fucking a teenager is the shittiest thing he could ever do, right up there with commiting murder, and he knows that fucking a teenager who’s wearing his t-shirt from the police academy is a whole 'nother layer of wrong, but he can’t help it; Neal looks absolutely sinful right now. Dick starts to rut against Neal’s crotch, moaning at the friction but not quite ready to push his sweatpants down. Neal seems to have other ideas though.
“Please, Dickie, I need you,” he whispers in a shaky voice, pawing at the waist of Dick’s pants. “I need you so bad.”
“Don’t have any condoms,” Dick grunts out. He’d tossed them all in a fit of rage when Kori broke up with him.
“I… That’s okay. That’s- I don’t care, just… need you,” Neal says, and Dick pauses to stare at him.
Dick would be lying if he said that the idea of fucking the kid raw wasn’t hot as fuck. Kori had never let him do anything without a condom, regardless of the fact that she’d been on a form of birth control designed specifically to work with her biology. She wouldn’t even give him a blowjob without one. Yet here’s Neal, all of sixteen years old, practically begging to be fucked without any form of protection. Dick knows he isn’t on the pill and he hasn’t been taking his testosterone since Jason died; either of the medications would be on the file Bruce has, and they aren’t. There’s a very real chance Neal could get pregnant if they do this.
Still, Dick’s cock twitches. He dives down to kiss Neal again, biting the teen’s lip and shoving his tongue into his mouth. His right hand shifts from Neal’s hip, where it’d fallen to after releasing his wrist, to between his legs. Deft fingers slip in and out of the folds, tracing the path his tongue had taken and smearing slick all over that pretty little cunt. One finger lightly circles Neal’s hole, then dips in, just to the first knuckle. Neal cries out and moans into the kiss. He pulls the finger out before shoving it back in, this time all the way. Neal arches into his touch, one of his hands leaving Dick’s hair to scratch down his back.
“Christ,” Dick mutters.
The kid feels amazing around him, with velvety walls that clench down each time he thrusts the singular finger in and out. Neal’s hips buck up against his hand, chasing the sensation. He presses a second finger in alongside the first and drinks down Neal’s resultant moan before adding a third a few seconds later.
“Are you still a virgin, baby?” he whispers. “Ever had anything in your little cunt before now?”
“Just, nngh, just fingers.”
“Who’s fingers? Yours?”
“Y-yeah.” Dick bites Neal’s lip at that. Images of Neal masturbating flood his mind: Neal with his back to a headboard, fingers delving in and out of his small pussy; Neal fucking himself on his fingers, riding them until he comes.
The only sounds in the room, in the entire apartment, even, are ones that they make. All of Neal’s little gasps and moans, Dick’s panting, and the increasingly wet squelching from where he’s fingering Neal open, echo through the room obscenely. Dick alternates between thrusting, scissoring, and curling his fingers. Neal spasms and he pauses to brush against the same spot again.
“F-Fuck, Dickie,” Neal clenches down on his fingers and throws his head back. “Is that- oh, fuck .”
“That’s your G-spot, baby,” Dick says. “Does it feel good?”
Tears spill from Neal’s eyes as another moan tears out of his lips. “Feels so good, Dickie.”
Dick leaves a series of kisses down Neal’s jaw. He nibbles on a couple places, but only lightly, never hard enough to leave any marks that could last longer than a couple minutes. At least until he tugs down the collar of the police academy shirt and gets to the space below Neal’s collarbone, where he sucks and bites hard enough to form an angry purple mark. Neal groans all the while, squirming beneath him and digging his nails into Dick’s back. There’s a gush of liquid around Dick’s fingers, and he smiles.
(God he’s going to hell, this is so wrong and fuck, he’s a terrible person but he just can’t stop .)
“Did you like that, baby?”
“Uh huh,” Neal moans breathily.
“Just my fingers?”
Neal moans again. “Your- Your mouth. More. More bites, please,” he says, practically whining.
Dick decides to indulge him, sucking another hickey into his relatively unmarked skin, but withdraws his fingers from Neal’s cunt. Neal whines.
“You still doing okay?” Dick asks. “I’ll stop as soon as you say the word.”
“Don’t, don’t stop. You need. Need- It’ll feel good, I promise.”
“I know, baby, gimme a second.”
He sits up, allowing himself use of both hands at once now that he doesn’t have to support his body weight on one arm. He pushes his sweatpants down to his knees, then, when Neal scoots back to give him space, he takes them off completely and throws them in the same direction as the boxers Neal was wearing. His cock, hard and leaking, slaps up against his stomach before hanging down.
Neal stares at it with wide eyes. “Is it gonna fit?” he asks.
Dick grins. He leans back down over the teenager. With one hand, the one he’d used to finger Neal, he grabs his cock, dragging the tip through Neal’s folds. Neal moans and thrusts his hips up. Dick kisses him just below the ear.
“It’ll fit,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, and presses the tip into Neal’s cunt.
Neal’s pussy feels even better around his cock than it did around his fingers. It’s tighter, for one, holding him in a vice grip. Neal immediately clenches down around him and whines.
“Shh, I’ve got you, baby,” he says into Neal’s skin, “I know it hurts, but it’ll feel good soon. You just aren’t used to it yet.”
He’s never fucked a virgin before, or anyone without a condom, but he’s starting to see the appeal. With each inch that he pushes in, Neal feels tighter and tighter and so warm and wet, he doesn’t think he can go back. Back to what, he doesn’t know. Condoms, Kori, anyone but Neal.
God, Neal. The teen’s eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack once Dick is halfway in. Dick brings his hand to Neal’s mouth, shoving three fingers in. Neal immediately starts sucking on them, whimpering and quietly moaning. His tongue swirls around Dick’s fingers, licking them clean.
“You feel so good baby, so- fuck, so tight. So good for me.”
He forces himself the rest of the way in in one sharp movement. The force pushes Neal a couple inches up the bed, crying out around his fingers. Neal’s hands dig into the sheets with white knuckles. Dick stills. He takes his fingers out of Neal’s mouth and cards them through the teen’s hair.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks softly, leaning over so that his breath ghosts over Neal’s jaw.
“It hurts, Dickie.”
Dick starts mouthing at Neal’s jaw and licks down his neck. “I know, baby, I know.”
Neal is so tight around him that he’d be surprised if it didn’t hurt. But god, does Neal feel amazing around him. All tight and hot, squeezing down around him, twitching just the slightest bit. Dick moves his hand from Neal’s hair down to the hem of his shirt. His hand slips up under the soft fabric, tracing up Neal’s even softer skin and up to his small tits. He’s able to fully hold one in his palm and squeezes it, maybe a little harder than necessary, but he can't help it; Neal’s just so soft and squeezable and so goddamn fuckable .
The boy under him makes a small noise, but Dick coos at him, hoping to soothe him a bit. He massages the tit in his hand a little harder, maybe even hard enough to bruise, and flicks his thumb over the nipple a couple times before tweaking it, drawing a high, breathy moan from Neal.
Taking that as a sign, Dick pulls out halfway before pushing back in. Neal moans again, tilting his head back and grinding up into Dick. That one action is all he needs to know that Neal is ready, he’s good, he’s adjusted. He pulls out and pushes in, starting at a slow and shallow pace. Neal pants and moans and whines and cries. His hands land in Dick’s hair and at the nape of his neck, dragging his head up for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, and Neal sucks on his lower lip before pulling away.
“Please,” Neal whimpers, dilated gray eyes staring up at him. “Please fuck me. Just, just use me, Dickie.”
He’s never been amazing when it comes to self control.
Dick pulls back, until only his cockhead remains in Neal, then snaps his hips up to the teen’s. A punched out moan falls from Neal’s lips. Dick cages Neal in with his elbows, then dips his head down and bites Neal’s neck, sucking a dark hickey into the column of his throat. His hips piston in and out, in and out; Neal lax beneath him, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. The metal bedframe starts to creak. He grips onto Neal’s neglected tit, a small, underdeveloped thing that barely fills out his hand. God, he almost wishes he’d let Neal take off his shirt so he could suck on those tits.
“Fuck, baby, Neal, you’re- God, baby, you’re perfect. You’re so perfect,” Dick pants between leaving small bites and hickeys everywhere his mouth can reach. Neal’s neck, jaw, shoulders.
Heat pools in his gut as Neal suddenly tightens around him, muscles spasming. Neal moans, loud and wanton. Fuck, he isn’t going to last long like this, not when Neal keeps clenching and moaning like that, and not when it’s been so damn long since he had someone beneath him like this.
“Baby, I’m almost there, almost there.”
And then Neal pulls his hair, squeezes down on his cock, and kisses him within an inch of his life. His orgasm hits like a bag of bricks, spilling and fucking his cum into Neal, unable to focus on anything but the warm, pliable body beneath him.
He bites down on the juncture of Neal’s neck and shoulder, his teeth digging into soft, smooth, sweet flesh until a hot metallic liquid bursts over his tongue and Neal cries out in what must be pain mixed with pleasure, because it sounds too similar to the sounds he was making earlier to be pure pain.
That’s the moment the orgasmic haze clears, and his first thought is Oh Fuck, because not only did he fuck Neal without a condom (and oh boy is Bruce going to kill him for having unsafe sex, if he ever finds out), he then proceeded to cum inside of Neal, who isn’t on birth control, who is sixteen years old , who had been a virgin until a few minutes ago, who is very much able to get pregnant right now. The idea of raw sex might’ve seemed enticing to Horny-Sexually-Frustrated-Dick, but Logical-Dick is almost ready to entertain the idea of running away and creating a new identity.
God, he’s such an idiot.
His second thought is that he needs to clean them up. Fuck, Neal’s bleeding, and he’s bleeding bad. Did he bite down on an artery or something?
He plants a soft kiss on Neal’s forehead. Neal’s arms wrap around his neck.
“Thank you, Dickie,” Neal whispers, clearly trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. “That was really nice.”
He should pull out. He needs to do something. Apologize? Say that it was really nice for him too? Say that he regrets taking Neal’s virginity? Get a washcloth and clean him up? Yeah, that. He needs to do that; get a clean washcloth, some antiseptic, a bandage. But Neal’s arms tighten the moment he tries to move away, the moment he tries to pull out.
“Neal, I gotta clean you up,” he says softly.
“No,” Neal says, shaking his head. “In the morning. I- Don’t leave me. Don’t go anywhere. Just hold me, please.”
Dick breathes in and out. “Okay. But let’s get you in a more comfortable position, alright?”
Neal nods, drawing his arms away, so Dick pulls back and lets his cock slip free. It’s followed by a trickle of cum, some of which is tinged pink with blood, as Neal’s hole flutters and clenches around nothing. Fuck. Neal whines. Dick looks up at his face, trying to ignore the fact that he’s getting hard again.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Neal whines again. “I just, I…”
“I know baby, I know, but we have to get you comfortable. Can you roll over for me?”
Neal complies with the request, rolling onto his stomach and laying in the middle of the bed. Suddenly, Dick is really grateful he’d made the bed that morning. He’s even more thankful that he uses more than one blanket. He starts rolling up the top one, moving Neal around when necessary and collecting the fabric. Then he bundles it and throws it in the corner. The top layer hadn’t been a particularly soft blanket, moreso one that he used for the added warmth, but the one beneath it is nice and fuzzy.
When he turns back around, he’s met with the sight of Neal, on his back with the blanket pushed to the side, eyes closed, hands running up and down his body, tracing around each of the bite marks (one of which is still bleeding , albeit sluggishly) and hickeys and Dick freezes. His cock, which had started to flag as he went through the motions of removing the top blanket, once again stands erect at the sight.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He climbs back onto the bed. He said he’d hold Neal, and he isn’t the type of person to deny aftercare — especially for someone like Neal — no matter how he feels at the moment. Even if he feels awful. He’s a terrible fucking person.
(He fucked a teenager. A fucking teenager. One who’s supposed to be his little brother. Who the hell does that?)
Neal is quick to look him up and down with half-lidded eyes and damp cheeks. Dick lays down next to him on his side and wraps an arm around Neal, doing his best to keep his hips back. But Neal turns on his side to face him and moves closer, until they’re pressed together, Dick’s cock trapped between them, Neal’s leg thrown over his hip, and Dick is more on his back than his side. Neal’s hands grab the sides of Dick’s head, pulling him in for a slow, languid kiss. Dick reluctantly flattens the palm of his hand against Neal’s back and presses them closer together.
“Dick?” Neal breathes against his lips.
“Yeah?”
“Can you…” breath fans across his face. Neal’s eyes are brimming with tears. “Can you put it in me? Not to like, fuck or anything, just to have it there.”
God, he really is going to hell.
“Yeah, baby, I can do that.”
He reaches down with his right hand, the one not currently wrapped around Neal, and uses it to guide himself back into that wet heat.
Neal whimpers against his skin. “‘s good,” he mumbles, “full.”
Eventually, with Dick massaging circles into his back, Neal falls asleep. His breathing evens out, his limbs relax, and he burrows his face into Dick’s neck. Dick just… stays like that. It’s nice having someone on top of him like this (it shouldn’t be). And Neal had been right, this was a good distraction from everything that's been bothering him (but only for a little bit; only until he wakes up in the morning and fucks into a sleeping Neal until they both cum again and he remembers that the kid is sixteen ).