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Dick comes back to consciousness fuzzily. His head is full of fluff, still spinning sickeningly. He feels dizzy, nauseous for reasons he can’t quite remember, and nothing is really registering.
“Robin! Are you all right, Robin?”
He hears it distantly. A hand grasps at his thigh, and the touch is grounding, stabilising the sickening whirling of his head. Something stirs behind his groin at the contact.
He’s being taken down, untied, the blindfold removed from his eyes, and he sways on his feet. Strong arms hold him steady. Someone — Batman — slaps at his face. “Snap out of it, Robin!”
He sounds worried. Dick blinks, forcing his heavy tongue and dry mouth to cooperate.
“Must’ve passed out. Wow,” he says. He works his jaw, trying to summon up some of his usual chipperness. “That was like taking a hundred rides on a supersonic rollercoaster.”
His head is clearing, a little. Vaguely, he can recall it all — finding the Riddler’s hideout in the disused power plant, being ambushed by his gang of River Rats, blindfolded and tied spread-eagled to those giant wheels and the drive shafts spinning them around and around and around and around—
Dick sways, again, and collapses into Batman’s arms. “Oof. I’m sorry. Gosh, Batman. We fell right for the Riddler’s trap. But you saved us, once again.”
Another few moments being spun around like that, and they’d have been done for. If not for Batman, and his utility belt, Dick would easily have wound up dead.
Bruce draws him close, and kisses Dick’s temple. “Don’t fret on it, Robin. I’m just glad you’re all right.”
His lips are warm and gentle against Dick’s skin. And – Dick feels, all at once, the tingling adrenaline mixing with the dizzying vertigo and the echo, the imprint of Bruce’s hand on his leg. That stirring in his groin rises up again, and he wants, all of a sudden, a hot and desperate and thoroughly improper thing clawing its way free.
And he doesn’t know where he finds the courage — and maybe it’s only because his head is still swimming and he can’t think straight — but he tilts his head up to plant his own kiss on Bruce’s lips.
His mouth is surprisingly soft. Bruce stills, only the barest reaction revealing him to be startled. He must be able to feel Dick’s burgeoning erection against his thigh, tenting in his shorts.
“Robin, what is…”
Dick pulls away, the hot sweep of shame bringing a sudden clarity. “I’m sorry! Golly, I–I don’t mean to make it queer—”
His heart thumps loud in his chest. Gosh, but he can’t believe he just did that — just showed Bruce the perverted desires he’s managed to keep secret from him until now. His face blazes red. Dick’s surely just ruined everything, and Bruce is going to be disgusted, and he’d be right to be, wouldn’t he?
“It’s okay,” Bruce says, cutting off Dick’s internal catastrophising. “Robin, it’s all right. I just – didn’t realise but…” and he seems to struggle internally with something, for a moment, before letting out a harsh breath. “I’m just so relieved you’re safe.”
His hand comes up to caress Dick’s jaw. Dick shivers, and Bruce tilts his chin up to kiss him again.
On the lips.
Oh.
Bruce presses him back against the giant, no longer whirling wheel and Dick goes easily, his back landing against the cold metal. He melts into the kiss, letting his mouth go slack when Bruce’s tongue prods at his lips then pushes inside, hot and wet and all gentle possession. Hesitantly, not quite sure what he’s doing, he swirls his own tongue around Bruce’s, rewarded by the groan Bruce makes into his mouth.
Bruce’s hand is on his inner thigh, again, travelling up to cup his groin. Dick can’t help arching up into the touch, pressing his erection into the heel of Bruce’s hand, and the rush of pleasure that gives him makes him gasp breathlessly, the sound muffled by the kiss.
“Batman—” Dick gets out when they break apart for air, sounding strangled even to his own ears.
“Shh,” Bruce says. A small, pleased smile curls his lips. “Let’s go back to the Batmobile to deal with this, okay, chum?”
Something in his chest feels like it’s about to burst, and he doesn’t think he can wait that long, but — he doesn’t know how far they’re going to go, if they’ll stay at first base or– or maybe go a bit further, and…
Dick doesn’t dare hope, but this is all new, and he supposes he doesn’t want his first time doing any of this to be in the damp basement of an old power plant, so.
So they make their way out of the power plant to the Batmobile, and Bruce’s arm stays wrapped around Dick’s waist the whole time, as though reassuring himself that Dick is still there. For his part, Dick can’t complain, leaning into Bruce’s side. It makes him feel a little bit like a skirt, maybe, but that’s not… he finds he doesn’t hate that.
Might even like it. Maybe he’s even queerer than he thought.
He can unpack that thought later, he supposes.
They hid the Batmobile in some bushes, so it feels nice and private. Dick goes to climb into his usual seat on the passenger side, but Bruce stops him, guiding him over to the driver’s side and tugging him down onto his lap. Heat rushes to Dick’s cheeks, but he goes with it, ending up sitting with his knees spread either side of Bruce’s thighs, and then they’re kissing again.
Bruce starts out tender, pressing soft pecks to Dick’s lips and jaw and trailing down his throat. Dick moans, rocking his hips forward, and it’s like something in Bruce snaps. All at once, he’s necking Dick properly, lavishing wet, hungry kisses there, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck that makes Dick shout.
“Geez, Batman! How am I going to hide that from Aunt Harriet?” he exclaims. That’s going to leave a big, purple hickey there, he can already tell.
“Say you’ve finally found a girl to go steady with.” Bruce’s voice is unapologetic. Behind the cowl, his eyes are dark, but his hands stay gentle. “Robin. You don’t know what you do to me.”
The way he’s looking at him — like Dick is something precious, alluring — he gets bold. He rocks his hips forward, again, feeling the way their erections press together through their costumes, and Bruce groans and tips his head back against the headrest of the seat. And Dick wants more. He feels greedy, aching to touch and to have Bruce touch him back, and he fumbles at the catch of Bruce’s utility belt, getting it undone so he can slide his hand underneath.
He pauses at the waistband, waiting for permission, suddenly unsure if this is all right. Maybe this is too far, and the petting will need to stay above their clothes. But Bruce nods, his hands tightening their grip on Dick’s thighs, and so Dick haltingly slides his hand underneath the layers of cloth.
Dick’s hand finds Bruce’s prick, stiff inside his jock, and it’s thick enough that Dick can only just wrap his hand around it. Dick’s not really sure how to do this — sure, he’s fooled around a bit by himself, like any teenager, but it’s not the same when it’s someone else. Still, he figures some of it must translate, so he tries to stroke Bruce the way he’d do if he was on his own. He must get something right because Bruce bucks and rolls his hips up into Dick’s inexperienced touches.
“You’re – incredible, Robin,” Bruce pants. The praise ignites a warm glow in his chest, the way Batman’s regard always does, but now it burns hotter, fiercer. Bruce digs his fingers into Dick’s legs. “My gorgeous boy.”
Dick knows that he’s comely. Certainly, it’s been remarked on, by the girls at school, and society ladies looking to get him set up with someone. But he didn’t realise that Bruce had – noticed.
It feels different, that Bruce noticed.
A good different.
Bruce’s hands move from Dick’s thighs to his belt, undoing the clasp. He, too, pauses here, hands resting on Dick’s waist. “Is this okay?”
Dick squeezes Bruce’s erection in his hand. “That enough of an answer for you?”
“Cheeky,” Bruce says, slightly strained, but he’s grinning, and he kisses Dick again.
Bruce’s hand slips under the hem of Dick’s shorts and his tights, and then he’s cupping Dick in his hand, and it takes everything Dick has in him not to let himself go right there.
“Oh!” he moans, as Bruce slowly starts to fondle him. He tries to copy what Bruce is doing, because Bruce is clearly much more knowledgable about how to do this than Dick is, but he’s barely able to focus.
Bruce strokes his length, his gloved hand wrapping around him, the thumb swirling over and playing with Dick’s slit where stickiness is starting to pearl. Dick’s hips jerk involuntarily. Bruce’s hand travels lower, cupping his sack, playing with his balls, and Dick’s breath is coming in frantic gasps, the warm pleasure utterly overwhelming, driving any thought from his brain.
“Batman, I– I—” he starts, hips pitching forward, and Bruce’s hand comes up to stroke him again, twisting on the upstroke, and—
It’s amazing. It feels incredible, like nothing he’s ever managed on his own, a sudden wave of pleasure crackling through his whole body, and his eyes roll back in his head at the intensity of the sensation as he orgasms. He falls forward into Bruce, spilling over the gloved hand that’s still stroking him and into his tights, painting them in sticky whiteness. Dick shivers, a breathy, drawn out moan escaping from him.
“Bruce — gosh, Bruce,” Dick pants, and he shouldn’t, not while they’re in costume, but right now he doesn’t care.
And, like he’s lost all control, Bruce lifts him up and twists them around, turning Dick over so he’s lying dangling half out of the Batmobile, bent over the low door with Bruce pressing up behind him. Bruce fumbles with something, rustling, and then something hot and hard is sliding between Dick’s thighs, rubbing up against his shorts.
Bruce pulls back, and rocks forward again, dragging his erection through the gap between Dick’s legs. “Close your legs together,” Bruce instructs him, his voice rough.
Dick obeys, squeezing his thighs tight around Bruce. He shivers when he feels that hardness bumping up against his sack. “Oh!” he exclaims, the lewdness twisting something heavy and thrilling in his stomach.
Bruce humps languidly against him. His fingers play at the waistband of Robin’s shorts and tights. “Robin. Robin, will you allow me this?” he asks. Begs, almost, which isn’t something Dick’s ever heard Batman do before.
“Please,” Dick gasps out. He needs more, needs to feel Bruce against his skin. “Batman, please.”
Bruce peels Dick’s sticky shorts and tights over his ass to pool at his knees, and slides his erection back between Dick’s thighs. Then he holds still, for a moment.
“What is it?” Dick asks.
“…Nothing,” Bruce says. “Just admiring, chum.”
“What’s there to admire?” Dick shifts, a little self-conscious.
Bruce kneads at Dick’s ass, spreading his cheeks, and Dick shivers, just a little.
“What isn’t there?” Bruce says, sounding rapt. “You’re beautiful, Dick. All this softness, this creamy skin. A wonder.”
“I haven’t exactly had time to catch some rays with all the crime fighting, Batman.” Dick shifts again, not really sure how to take the compliment. It’s the kind of compliment you’d give to a girl you’re sweet on, not one you’re just looking to cop a feel with, but Dick is not… that is, Bruce can’t really…
Bruce’s fingers dig in to his cheeks, ten firm points of contact. Dick’s breath catches. “You’re beautiful, Dick,” Bruce says again, insistent, and Dick shudders.
“Okay, Bruce,” Dick says softly, and Bruce starts to move.
He holds Dick’s hips steady, rocking his own forward, and Dick squeezes his legs tight together for him and tries not to go crazy. The slide of Bruce’s prick is lubricated only by the leaking from its tip, but that’s enough to make it a smooth glide against the near-hairless skin of Dick’s inner thighs, and Bruce is pressing up against Dick’s balls on each of his thrusts.
“Beautiful,” Bruce says again, kissing the back of Dick’s neck. “Robin– Dick, you make me want things I shouldn’t. You’re incredible. A marvel.”
“Bruce,” Dick whines, because Bruce keeps kissing him between each sentence, layering them at his nape, and the affection is like a warm blanket that settles over him.
Bruce’s thrusts speed up, then suddenly still, and a warmth sprays against the inside of Dick’s thighs. Bruce moans as he comes. The sound is glorious. “Dick!”
Dick wants to make Bruce say his name like that again. As many times as Bruce will let him.
They hold there, breathing heavily for a moment. There’s a buzzing underneath Dick’s skin. Then Bruce pulls him back, tugging Dick’s shorts and tights back up and sitting Dick on his lap again. Dick presses their lips together, ignoring the messy stickiness between his legs, and Bruce kisses back, cradling Dick’s head.
Bruce sighs warmly when they finally seperate, pressing their foreheads together. “Let’s go home, chum.”
“But what about the Riddler?” Dick can’t help but ask.
Bruce just smiles, and kisses him again. “He can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is ours.”
And Dick rather likes the sound of that.