And I didn't mean to hit enter there, so! More comment.
And of course he got that scream. Slade is Determined. Also focused.
"I bet," Slade drawls, his hands still inside Dick and around him, "right now, Robin, you'd do anything." The words fall like blows, and Dick can press his eyes shut till his eyelids crinkle, but he can't stop gasping noisily, can't stop sweating, can't close his ears. "If I asked you nicely." Slade pulls his fingers out of Dick, slowly enough for him to feel every ridge and scar, and the circle he rubs with his fingertips feels like wet fire. "The Bat's security codes, the Tower's schematics. To get on your knees, to dress up in my colors and fight beside me." He shoves those fingers back in, and Dick arches off the bed, a scream escaping through his clenched teeth. "You sure want it, don't you."
skldjfkdhfjdhfjdkhsskjdhdshkjdhsj. That high-pitched noise you heard was a scream of terrified, appalled glee from Alabama.
TOO NICE FOR THAT. SLKDFKJDHFADKUJSHF
Tenderness! I. Petted. Oh oh OH.
Slade's hand is on Dick's jaw, pushing his face up, and Dick can't even imagine Batman's reaction. What Bruce will think, of this, of him. "Kid, look at me." Slade says, low and sharp. "Grayson. Dick. Look at me."
... I would kill to know what he's thinking there. Also, NAME. HE USED THAT NAME. *explodes*
Oh, DICK. I am squirming in my chair, and of *course* he's expecting to get pushed back to the bed.
Also, oversized! Bwahahahahaha. *hearts That Page from ID Crisis*
Pretty boy wonder! Goodness. I'd growl, too.
Dick watches before he thinks about whether he wants to; when he's in bed with someone, no matter how guarded they usually are or how strong, at the moment of orgasm their expressions soften into something individual and universal, open and vulnerable and sweet, and Dick never feels better than when he makes someone look like that.
Slade doesn't look like that. He looks more dangerous than ever somehow, not lost in pleasure at all but like he's using it to know every inch of himself even better, and Dick too.
... Someday I will write the meta those lines inspire. For now, I will keyboard mash at you again. sldfhdshfukdhfukafdsafhd
SHOWERSEX YAY. Except for WRONG.
Those brief descriptions managed more hot than some writers manage in entire long PWPs.
Oh, right, Dick, Slade really cares that the Titans will be mad at him.
... *facepalms* Man, it's really not subtle that Dick's been fucked six ways from Sunday. Hickeys and fingerprint bruises and beardburn and everything.
... Except, apparently, to the Titans. Um, Wally? Slade's not really the physically torturing *type*. He prefers a clean death.
Except for the little ones.
Whew. Yes. He has Kory. Okay. *whew*
P.S. Teaching a bright kid. I. Oh, DEAR. That does BAD THINGS to my brain.
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Re: Yes, I am entirely aware of the irony of this icon.
Date: 2006-09-13 04:53 am (UTC)And of course he got that scream. Slade is Determined. Also focused.
"I bet," Slade drawls, his hands still inside Dick and around him, "right now, Robin, you'd do anything." The words fall like blows, and Dick can press his eyes shut till his eyelids crinkle, but he can't stop gasping noisily, can't stop sweating, can't close his ears. "If I asked you nicely." Slade pulls his fingers out of Dick, slowly enough for him to feel every ridge and scar, and the circle he rubs with his fingertips feels like wet fire. "The Bat's security codes, the Tower's schematics. To get on your knees, to dress up in my colors and fight beside me." He shoves those fingers back in, and Dick arches off the bed, a scream escaping through his clenched teeth. "You sure want it, don't you."
skldjfkdhfjdhfjdkhsskjdhdshkjdhsj. That high-pitched noise you heard was a scream of terrified, appalled glee from Alabama.
TOO NICE FOR THAT. SLKDFKJDHFADKUJSHF
Tenderness! I. Petted. Oh oh OH.
Slade's hand is on Dick's jaw, pushing his face up, and Dick can't even imagine Batman's reaction. What Bruce will think, of this, of him. "Kid, look at me." Slade says, low and sharp. "Grayson. Dick. Look at me."
... I would kill to know what he's thinking there. Also, NAME. HE USED THAT NAME. *explodes*
Oh, DICK. I am squirming in my chair, and of *course* he's expecting to get pushed back to the bed.
Also, oversized! Bwahahahahaha. *hearts That Page from ID Crisis*
Pretty boy wonder! Goodness. I'd growl, too.
Dick watches before he thinks about whether he wants to; when he's in bed with someone, no matter how guarded they usually are or how strong, at the moment of orgasm their expressions soften into something individual and universal, open and vulnerable and sweet, and Dick never feels better than when he makes someone look like that.
Slade doesn't look like that. He looks more dangerous than ever somehow, not lost in pleasure at all but like he's using it to know every inch of himself even better, and Dick too.
... Someday I will write the meta those lines inspire. For now, I will keyboard mash at you again. sldfhdshfukdhfukafdsafhd
SHOWERSEX YAY. Except for WRONG.
Those brief descriptions managed more hot than some writers manage in entire long PWPs.
Oh, right, Dick, Slade really cares that the Titans will be mad at him.
... *facepalms* Man, it's really not subtle that Dick's been fucked six ways from Sunday. Hickeys and fingerprint bruises and beardburn and everything.
... Except, apparently, to the Titans. Um, Wally? Slade's not really the physically torturing *type*. He prefers a clean death.
Except for the little ones.
Whew. Yes. He has Kory. Okay. *whew*
P.S. Teaching a bright kid. I. Oh, DEAR. That does BAD THINGS to my brain.