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“Dude, I told you my girlfriend is coming over. You can’t hog all the space.”
Wally stood over Dick, who was currently sprawled across the living room on a dark blue yoga mat like he owned the place.
Which technically he half did. But that wasn’t the point. Dick didn’t even glance up. He reached lazily for his water bottle, took a sip, and dropped right back down into a stretch like Wally wasn’t even there. “Dick. I’m serious.”
Wally stepped onto the edge of the mat like it was enemy territory. Dick finally turned his head and rolled his eyes. “You said she’ll be here at four. It’s three-thirty.”
Then, like he hadn’t just dismissed Wally’s whole existence, he spread his legs into a perfect V and leaned forward, grabbing each foot. He started counting softly under his breath. Wally just stared, arms crossed. He should’ve said something else. Something biting. But all he could think about was how annoying it was that Dick was that flexible. Like. What guy needed to be that flexible?
He gave up and stormed off to the kitchen instead. Whatever. Food prep. He could at least do that.
He grabbed two bowls, one for him, one for Dick. No, wait. One for his girlfriend. He meant his girlfriend. He dumped in Oreos, gummy worms, M&M’s, whatever candy he could find and stirred the mix until it looked half-decent. It’d pass.
On his way back to the living room, he stopped and scowled. The yoga mat was still there, perfectly replacing the coffee table like it was supposed to be part of the décor now. “Goddammit, Dick,” he muttered, redirecting to the side of the room where he’d shoved the table earlier. He dropped the bowls there with a loud clack.
When he turned back, Dick was in a full split now, reaching forward like it was nothing, one hand wrapped around his foot. Wally squinted. “Seriously, who needs to be that bendy?” Dick didn’t respond. Just kept stretching.
He was wearing a red long sleeve baggy, way baggier than anything Dick actually owned. Probably because it belonged to Wally. The sleeves bunched at his wrists, the hem pooling around his hips like it didn’t belong there. And the shorts? Wally narrowed his eyes. Those looked exactly like the pair he’d sworn were lost forever. They’d disappeared weeks ago.
“So how long have you been hoarding my clothes?” He flopped onto the couch, stretching his legs out so his heels landed right on the edge of Dick’s yoga mat. A little passive aggressive. Dick let go of his foot and looked over. Then looked down at his chest, grabbing a bit of the fabric between his fingers and letting it snap softly against his skin. “As long as I’m doing your laundry,” he said with a shrug, “all your stuff is free game.”
Wally should’ve been annoyed. Should’ve brought up how many shirts he’d mysteriously ‘lost’ in the last two months. How his favorite hoodie went missing and magically reappeared on Dick’s body like it was made for him.
But he wasn’t mad. He felt… warm. Annoyingly warm. Like this, this exact thing was right. Like there was nothing wrong with Dick stretching on his mat in Wally’s clothes, doing his stupid yoga, like he belonged here more than anyone else did.
“Can you move now?” Wally stood up fast. Too fast. Even he caught that.
“It’d be weird if my girlfriend walked in and saw you… all spread out on the floor.”
He kicked at the edge of the mat, curling it up slightly. “Fine. I’ll go mope in my room and call Jason or something.” Dick stood without looking at him, gave the mat one last glance, then spun on his heel and disappeared into his room. The door didn’t slam exactly, but it definitely didn’t close gently.
Ding.
“Shit.”
Wally rushed to shove the coffee table back where it belonged, only just making it to the door before unlocking it because of course he forgot to do that first. He cursed under his breath as he yanked it open. Standing on the other side was a brunette girl, holding a small knitted bag in both hands.
“Wow. It smells like candy in here,” she said brightly, stepping past him. She paused a few feet in, looking around the apartment.
“Yeah! I made those candy salad things you like,” he said, voice a little too loud. He headed for the couch, and she followed.
He grabbed one of the bowls and handed it to her. She smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Wally didn’t react. Not because he didn’t want to. He just barely felt it. His mind was still stuck two minutes ago with Dick walking off stiff and annoyed, and the echo of the door closing just a little too hard.
She pulled back and looked at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Wally said, blinking back into the moment. “Just- thinking.”
She nodded, glancing toward the hallway. “Is Dick here?”
“Yeah, so what movie do you want to watch?” He grabbed the remote and opened Hulu.
“Probably horror.” She picked out a few M&M’s and ate them all in one go. “Got anything to drink?” she asked between chews.
Wally nodded. He headed into the kitchen and pulled out two cups, filling them both with milk. Milk and candy were good together, right? He peeked out of the kitchen into the living room.
Dick was standing next to the couch, leaning on the arm with both hands gripping it firmly. He was talking and smiling but Wally couldn’t hear what they were saying
“You two are getting along?” Wally walked past Dick and set both cups on the coffee table. She picked one up immediately, taking a drink while nodding.
“Considering you never even told me her name,” Dick said, stepping closer, pressing his hands down harder, leaning over Wally just slightly more, “I’d say we’re doing well.”
“I- well, her name is Flora.” Wally sat down on his hands. Then after a minute, he pulled them into his lap. “She told you, didn’t she?” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“She did.” Dick nodded, and Flora giggled, setting her cup back on the table.
Wally sighed and readjusted, settling his left hand over the arm of the couch right on Dick’s hip. Dick didn’t flinch. Didn’t even move.
“You never told me he was so funny,” Flora said, scooting further into the couch, picking out more M&M’s from her bowl and popping each into her mouth like a PEZ dispenser.
“Well I didn’t expect the two of you to gang up on me,” Wally said, grabbing the remote and scrolling through movies. He landed on a horror film that looked bloody enough and clicked play.
The front door clicked open again. Wally looked up. It was Bart, hanging halfway through the doorway.
“Tim said you’re talking forever.” He used his hands to pull himself in instead of stepping.
“Right. As much as I’d love to invade your space further,” Dick said, already standing up straight, “I have plans.” He gave Flora a smile before shoving Bart out the door and following him.
“That was your cousin, right?”
“Yeah, he’s friends with Dick’s little brother.” Wally picked his legs up and rested them on the coffee table next to his bowl of candy salad.
“I thought his little brother was Damian?” Flora turned to face the TV.
“He’s got an insane number of siblings. Like… seven, I think.”
“Seven?” Flora stared at him. “That means there’s eight of them? Oh god.” She grabbed the pendant on her necklace and slipped it through her fingers.
“Yeah, and he’s the oldest. So they’re here all. The. Time.”
–
Flora left hours ago, and Wally’s sure it’s an ungodly hour of the night. The last thing he wants right now is someone banging around the kitchen and the smell of bacon creeping under his door. But of course, that’s exactly what’s happening. He sits up. The banging stops for a second then a loud crash echoes through the house.
Groaning, Wally swings his legs over the bed. He’s too tired and now too hungry to bother using his speed. He stalks out of his room, yawning the entire way to the kitchen.
"You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me."
Damian freezes. He’s standing over shattered glass, what Wally assumes used to be a bowl based on the color. Alfred the cat hops off the couch, long black body and plush white paws tapping quietly across the floor like he owns the place. Which, arguably, he does.
"You brought your cat," Wally says flatly.
"You brought your stupid fucking face," Damian replies, unbothered, crouching down to start gathering the bigger shards into his hand.
Jason steps out of the kitchen, half-visible, chewing a strip of bacon that’s suspiciously raw in the middle.
"You did bring your stupid face," he says around the bite. He kicks a shard of glass across the floor without looking and disappears back behind the counter.
"Fucking useless asshole," Damian mutters, dropping the glass with a clatter and grabbing the broom.
"How many of you are here?" Wally groans, rubbing his face.
"Steph’s out doing something unimportant," Damian replies, like that explains anything. He slaps the dustpan onto the floor like it owes him money.
"I heard that, jackass," Steph calls faintly from the hallway. A second later she appears in pajama pants and one of Cass’s old hoodies, holding a takeout bag and a drink with a straw.
"You want your food or not?" she asks, waving the bag. "I almost didn’t bring it after you insulted my mission."
"What mission?" Jason asks, looking up from the pan.
Steph flops into a chair. "Getting some actually edible food before you start trying to feed it to us raw."
"Thank god," Duke says, entering from the back door in a hoodie and slippers, carrying a mug of tea like it's a sacred relic. "Also Cass is asleep in the attic. Don’t wake her unless someone’s bleeding."
"Or on fire," Steph adds, nodding.
"Or bleeding on fire," Jason says helpfully.
Wally leans against the wall, blinking slowly. "This house is cursed."
"You live here," Damian says, sweeping glass into the pan.
"Exactly."
Carrie appears at the top of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. "Why are we all awake and why does it smell like regret and raw pork?"
"Jason’s cooking," everyone says at once. Alfred the cat meows loudly and sits in the middle of the mess Damian just cleaned.
Wally squints. “Why- why are you all here? All at once, every night?”
“You chose to live with Dick. He’s everyone’s favorite.” Duke sits next to Steph, popping open the takeout box in front of her and downing the rest of his tea. Wally groans and stomps past Carrie, heading up the stairs to Dick’s door. He pushes it open hard, stumbling with one arm still stretched out on the handle. He lets go and wipes imaginary dust off his chest before looking around the room.
Wally would describe Dick’s room as lush. He’s got about a million hanging plants, and the walls are littered with posters. A deep maroon patterned rug stretches under the bed, which is a soft pale blue. He has two rows of pillows; most of the cases are Nightwing-themed (ironically, Wally thinks), but the two on the side where Dick sleeps have bright yellow “Kid Flash” cases.
Tim and Dick are sitting across from each other on the bed. Tim’s holding up a mirror, and Dick’s got four fingers in his mouth, jaw slack. The container for his retainer is sitting between them.
“Why do they all have to come at once?” Wally steps inside, shutting the door behind him. Dick’s eyes flick toward him, then to his open mouth, and he squints at Wally.
“Don’t you all know sign language? That shouldn’t be an issue.” Wally stands at the edge of the bed, still facing Dick. Dick lifts both wrists slightly to emphasize his current dilemma, four fingers per hand shoved in his mouth.
Tim snickers, then quickly looks away. Wally sighs and sits on the floor, legs crossed. “Fine. Just make a sound if I say something wrong.”
Dick raises an eyebrow. He tries to nod, but it comes out more like a bobblehead jerk. Tim adjusts the mirror. “You’re good. Almost done. Unless you want me to floss you too.”
Dick glares.
“Okay, okay,” Tim says, lifting his hands. “Hostility noted.”
The door creaks open again. Damian peers in, Alfred the cat balanced on his forearm like a loaf of bread. “He won’t stop meowing,” he announces, and tosses the cat gently onto the bed. Alfred lands directly in Dick’s lap. Dick groans around his fingers.
“I think he wants to sleep on the Nightwing pillow,” Tim mutters.
Dick flips him off with a very wet, slobbery middle finger.
Damian slams the door shut behind him, and Dick leans closer to the mirror. A soft clicking sound falls from his mouth. Alfred curls up next to Tim, pressing his body into Tim’s thigh.
“Every night they have to come over?” Wally asks.
Dick shrugs. A louder click escapes his mouth.
“Do they have a real home that’s not here?”
Dick nods slow and absent-minded, his focus clearly elsewhere.
Wally pouts and climbs onto the bed. He sprawls across the edge, making the mattress sink. Dick glares at him. He starts petting the cat. Alfred purrs low and curls his tail.
“FUCK- finally!” Dick shouts, wiping his hands off on Tim’s shirt.
Tim immediately smacks him with the mirror. From this angle, Wally can see that Dick finally has his retainer in and it’s flooded with blood. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Dick use it in months.
“Don’t wipe your slobber on me,” Tim huffs, scooting back and kicking Dick in the chest. He wipes his shirt clean or rather, Wally’s shirt, the one he’s still wearing.
Dick leans forward and rubs his fingers over Wally’s face.
“DUDE!” Wally grabs Dick’s wrist and holds his hand just far enough away from his nose. He’s giggling even as he shoves him off. When he finally lets go, he wipes his face with his palm. “Disgusting.”
Wally squints at Dick, tilting his head. "Wait- why are you even wearing that thing again? I thought your teeth were done like… last year."
Dick doesn’t answer, just keeps poking at the corner of his mouth like it’s stuck wrong.
Wally sits up, narrowing his eyes. "Is it even in right? Lemme see-" He leans forward, too fast, and grabs Dick’s jaw with both hands.
"Dude-" Tim warns, already moving back.
"Hold still," Wally mutters. He pries at the corner of Dick’s mouth, and before anyone can stop him, he gets two fingers under the retainer and pulls.
Dick snarls around it, a wet choking sound caught between laugh and growl. "What the fuck, Wally-!" His voice warps mid-sentence as the retainer pops out halfway, flicking a line of blood across Wally’s knuckles.
Wally recoils immediately, holding the mangled plastic like it’s cursed. "DUDE, what the hell! That’s nasty! Why’s it full of blood-"
"Give it back!" Dick lunges for it, but Wally scrambles across the bed, holding it just out of reach like a gremlin. Tim just watches from the floor, absolutely done. "I’m not cleaning up brain fluid if you two kill each other."
“Let me put it back.” Wally sits up placing a hand on Dicks chest. “I’ll actually do it right.”
“St-”
Wally grabs Dicks jaw and jerks him forward, Dick sighs and opens his mouth glaring. Wally tries to put the retainer back in and is failing miserably. Blood is covering his finger tips and the same with spit. The retainer slips out of Wally’s hand and falls on his leg. It slips down like a snail dragging spit behind it.
Wally stares at the retainer in his lap, now coated in blood and spit. It’s still warm. He makes a face but doesn’t even hesitate, just sighs through his nose, picks it up, and, without a second thought, sticks the whole thing in his mouth.
Sucks it clean.
Wetly.
Loudly.
Dick jerks back like he’s been slapped. “Dude.”
Tim actually gags. “Wally- what the hell.”
But Wally doesn’t respond. He’s too busy squinting at the retainer, turning it in his fingers like he’s checking it for cracks. Then he nods, satisfied, and says casually, “It’s fine. Just pinched your gum or something.”
He goes to shove it back in Dick’s mouth and it clicks into place perfectly, properly aligned this time.
That’s when Damian’s voice cuts through, sharp from the doorway. “What in the actual name of God did I just witness?” Everyone turns. Damian stands in the open frame, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he’s watching someone eat a live rat. “I thought you were supposed to be the normal one,” he snaps at Wally. “You just ate his mouth blood.”
Wally shrugs. “Not like he’s got rabies.”
Dick lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, flopping back onto the bed.
Tim mutters, “So… time for the top one now?”
He’s already holding the second piece of plastic, offering it like an olive branch or a weapon. Wally grabs it without hesitation and doesn’t even try to get Dick’s permission this time. He just climbs on top of him, settling with a knee on either side of Dick’s chest.
“I can put it in this time!” Dick reaches up to stop him managing to grab Wally’s wrist but Wally doesn’t let go of the retainer. In a last-ditch attempt, Dick lifts his leg to knee him in the back- Something wraps around his ankle.
Jason. “Chill out, dude. You’ve got a dentist appointment tomorrow.” He releases Dick’s leg only to sit on it, pinning him more firmly to the bed.
Damian walks up to the headboard and starts prying Dick’s hand off Wally’s wrist.
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Dick protests.
“I’m not helping you,” Damian says coolly. “I’m helping torture you.”
He succeeds in peeling Dick’s fingers off, and Wally quickly grabs both of Dick’s wrists, pinning them above his head.
“Thanks… evil child,” Wally says, cheerfully.
He flips the retainer around in his hand for a better angle, but Dick jerks his hips upward, throwing Wally forward with a thump.
“Jerking me forward just puts more weight on your hands, bro. Chill. I’m good at this.”
Wally tries to lower the retainer only to find Dick’s mouth sealed shut. His whole jaw locked tight like someone had literally wired it closed.
Wally sighs dramatically.
“Okay. Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?” Tim asks, clearly too entertained to intervene.
Wally leans down like he’s going to whisper something seductive, but instead loudly announces right in Dick’s ear “If you don’t open your mouth, I’m gonna lick your teeth.” Dick screeches. Or maybe it's a growl. Either way, it’s loud, and his mouth flies open on instinct.
“You’re disgusting,” Damian mutters, like he’s genuinely considering switching teams just to escape this house.
Wally grins, “And effective.” He gets the top retainer in with a practiced flick, then leans back triumphantly like a surgeon who just saved a life.
Dick glares at him, furious and half-muzzled by the retainers. He tries to say something, but it comes out as a slurred, plasticky hiss.
Jason finally speaks up from where he's still lounging across both of them. “Well, now he sounds like he’s been tranquilized. Peace at last.”
“You people are barbarians,” Damian says, but doesn't move from his seat. He’s enjoying this too much.
Tim’s already pulling out his phone. “Okay, who wants to bet how long it takes before he spits it into someone’s drink?”
The door creaks open and Duke and steps in before stopping and stepping back out pulling the door shut. Wally starts laughing and Dick punches him in the stomach but it's weaker than he wanted it to be and only leaves Wally even more out of breath.
Wally finally gets up standing and stretching his arms over his head with a drawn out yawn. Jason stands for a minute giving Dick the opportunity to pull his legs back before he sits down again.
“You’re all evil, go home.” Dicks sits up kicking Jason in the side.
“Fine, but Tim you’re telling Connor to let us in the back of the Kent's stupid ranch. We're not hanging out at the cave tonight.” Jason stands up and shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket. Tim nods and grabs a bag from the other side of Dicks bed.
Damian groans and pulls himself fully onto Dick’s bed putting his hands under a pillow. “Yes preteen satan you can stay, the rest of you out before you burn everything down.” Dicks flops back on his bed and pushes the pillow over Damain’s hands over his head.
Jason swipes a pair of keys from Dick’s nightstand, almost knocking over a potted plant in the process. “We’ll get it back in one piece thanks.” He holds the door open for tim shutting behind him. There's a series of loud bangs doors opening and eventually Wally hears a window fall shut before the noise dies down.
“God, they're gonna destroy my car. Like YOU did my TEETH.” Dick rubs his jaw and mock whines. “It, hurt really bad.” Dick whines again pushing a few fingers into his cheek where his teeth are. Wally had only ever heard dick use such a tone very few times, if he had to describe it he’d say needy with something else he couldn’t pin down.
“I am right here fagots. Not even a foot away.” Damian pushes his head further into the mattress. Trying to forget what he just heard.
“Zip it pocket robin.” Dick piles another pillow on Damian and turns back to Wally. “I’ll stay on the couch” He turns and slides off the bed putting one hand on Wally’s chest guiding him backwards out the door. “Leave that one to himself.” He stops and motions for Wally to turn around.
Dick slides past Wally; he's two steps from the couch when he’s not. He feels tingly and feels like he got flashbanged. The light fades and his feet feel static and slightly carpet burned from dragging across the floor.
“You can just stay in my room, I don't have anything tomorrow I'll go out and patrol or something.” He’s already in his suit and standing next to the door. Dick doesn’t say anything; he just sits on Wally’s bed and drags his hand across it examining the room.
“Could you not just gloss over the city in less than a minute?”
“Yeah bu-”
“Alright, I'll see you in like four minutes.” Dick leaned back, head hitting the bed.
“Four? But I could do that in l-”
“Four.” Dick holds up four fingers and waves them around. “Four minutes I’ll be counting down.”
–
0:43
He’s already finished a lap around the city. The worst thing he found was a tipped-over trash can. He picked it up and left the spilled garbage, and now he’s stretched out on the roof of a 24-hour diner, the one with the buzzing neon sign that wraps around like a crown.
1:03
I could get tacos, right? That wouldn’t take too long.
He grabs a plate off the line at his favorite spot, slipping the right amount of cash in its place.
It’s not stealing if I pay for it.
He drowns the tacos in salsa and eats them in barely enough bites to taste them.
2:21
The tacos are gone. So’s the second plate he impulsively swiped after. He set the dishes back neatly and everything. He’d get a third, but he’s out of cash and apparently dignity.
This suit needs bigger pockets, he thinks as he lies back on the rooftop like a starfish, limbs spread.
Four minutes? Why four? Why send me out just to pull me back?
3:07
His phone buzzes. Wally groans and rolls to his side to dig it out. Flora.
He puts the call on speaker. “Hey, Flora. What’s up?”
3:12
“Nothing, just checking if you were up!” she chirps, voice still syrupy with sleep.
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Dick’s got his siblings over again.”
“You’ve gotta set boundaries,” she scolds gently. “He can’t just invite his whole family over without warning. Especially not at four in the damn morning.”
3:31
“I know, I know. He made most of them leave. The youngest is still here, but it’s calm now.”
“Didn’t he demand your bedroom last time? And you… gave it to him?”
“That’s not- look, it’s complicated.”
3:47
“I just- I gotta ask, Flora… is this important?”
“What?”
“I mean… this call. Is it important?”
“I’m your girlfriend. Of course it’s important.” Her voice sharpens. “Wally, it’s 4 a.m. What could you possibly be doing?”
3:58
“Well, this is actually important,” he says. His thumb hovers. “To me.”
3:59
“W-”
Call ended.
The screen flashes back to the timer
4:01
———
Wally’s back in the house, finally. After the longest four minutes of his life, he’s standing outside the bedroom door. All he has to do now is go in. Simple. Just go in.
He steps up to the door but doesn’t open it. Doesn’t even reach for the handle at first. He just stands there.
Okay. Go in. Now.
He places a hand on the knob and turns it slightly just enough to make a soft click. He almost pushes it open but-
“Please-”
Wally freezes. He isn’t sure he heard anything at all. His pulse is in his ears. It could’ve been nothing. Could’ve been everything. Then a sharp gasp cuts through the silence, wet and sudden.
“Fuck-”
He lets go of the handle. The door shifts anyway. Not much. Just enough to widen the crack, to let the noise through like water under pressure. The sounds are clearer now. Breathless. Messy. Someone’s whispering, but it’s broken up by more gasps, the rhythm stilted, desperate.
Wally doesn’t move. Just listens.
“Wally- faster-” Dick’s voice is raw, like his throat’s already wrecked. “F-fuck, get ba- now, please.” He says something else, but it breaks apart into a string of moans.
Wally pushes the door open just enough to slip halfway in. Dick’s sitting on his bed again, in another one of Wally’s shirts, the one third today. This one’s not fresh anymore, just wrinkled and clinging damp to his chest. It’s the one Wally took off hours ago, soaked with sweat from tossing and turning.
Dick isn’t wearing pants.
Both legs are drawn tight to his chest. His hair clings to his face. Sweat glazes his whole body. He slumps back slightly, using the motion to shift forward on the mattress.
That’s when Wally sees his hands. When Dick’s too far gone to speak, when he throws his head back with a whimper and breathes like he’s drowning.
One arm is wedged beneath him, disappearing under his thigh to somewhere Wally can only guess. The other- oh god- the other is wrapped around his cock, stroking fast and messy, hips jerking out of sync with his hand.
"W-Wally- fuck-" His fingers start to tremble. "Hurry u-up."
Wally shuts the door hard behind him. Dick freezes.
Wally crosses the room in a second and grabs his ankle, lifting one leg.
"Shit-" Dick braces himself with a palm on the bed to keep from falling. The other hand is exactly where Wally expected: two slick fingers already buried deep. Dick pulls them back just a little before pushing in again, slower this time, a long, low sound leaking from his throat.
"F-fucking finally," he breathes, letting his body go slack as Wally holds him there, leg up, open.
Dick doesn’t look at him. He can’t. His chest rises fast, eyes half-lidded, lashes wet. His leg trembles in Wally’s grip.
Wally holds it there a second longer, just breathing, just looking.
He’d never seen him like this. Not really. Not undone and waiting. Not already halfway gone.
"You-" Wally starts, but his voice cracks. He tries again. "You couldn’t wait?"
Dick finally meets his eyes. It’s not shame on his face it's hunger. "I tried." His voice is ruined. "You said you’d be ten minutes."
Wally drops his gaze. The sweat. The shirt. The way Dick’s fingers twitch, still buried inside.
"I wasn’t even five," he mutters. He lets go of Dick’s leg gently this time and watches him fold in on himself. His thighs stay parted. Wally’s hands hover like they don’t know what to grab first.
"Too long," Dick breathes. "I missed you."
That breaks whatever was left holding Wally still.
He’s on the bed in a blink, climbing over him, kissing him so hard Dick whines into it. Dick’s free hand grips his shoulder, nails digging in. Wally runs his hands down his chest, settling one on each of Dick’s hips. He pulls back, staring at Dick hair clinging to his skin, eyes glassy, and his lips such a pretty color.
"I’ve- I’ve never wanted anything more." Wally licks his lips. He looks down. Dick’s almost naked and he’s still in his suit.
"Really? Nothing?"
Wally nods so fast he looks like a bobblehead. He kisses Dick again softly, just a peck. "Nothing."
‘Vrrmm.’
"Your phone," Dick says weakly.
Wally fishes it from his pocket.
Flora.
"Oh my god." Wally rubs the bridge of his nose. Does she have to call? Now? Or fucking ever? Didn’t he say he was doing something important?
"Is it her?" Dick reaches up and takes the phone from Wally. It rings again once before going to voicemail. "Call her back." He hands the phone back to Wally, and it’s already ringing. She picks up immediately.
"Wally? I know earlier you got kinda mad when I called, but- I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Her voice is soft, a little cracked around the edges, but she sounds sad. And sorry.
"I- no, I’m not mad. Just, busy with something really important, Flora-"
"Whatever you're doing, Wally, can it not wait? I mean, it’s like 4 a.m. Aren’t I important?"
"Yes! Yes, you’re important, it’s just-"
"Oh- fuck! Harder, please-"
Wally freezes. Flora doesn’t say anything. He expects the call to hang up, honestly. He looks at Dick, who’s using his fingers to fuck himself open. He’s breathing heavier now. Louder. Much louder than before.
On purpose.
Definitely on purpose.
"Wally- do, um… do you have someone over?"
If Alfred the cat were here, Wally’s sure he’d have at least three claws in his tongue.
"Please- Daddy, please more-" Dick arches his back off the bed, moaning louder. Wally is sure Flora said something else, but all he can focus on is the way his own dick twitches when Dick says Daddy.
Fuck, Take back what I said earlier. That. that is what I want.
He stares at the phone. Flora didn’t hang up. He doesn’t know why she didn’t, and frankly, he wishes she had.
“Flora. I have to go-”
“I- you- wh-”
He hangs up. Drops his phone off the bed.
No more distractions.
Right.
His suit.
“Wally?” Dick’s sitting up on both elbows now, hands pressed into the sheets.
“Yes?”
“Will you take the goddamn suit off and fuck me already?” Dick kicks him in the chest lightly, his foot grazing over the emblem.
“Yes! Yes- yes, I’ll do that now.” He nods quickly and starts yanking off his boots, nearly falling over three times.
“You know how long I’ve been sitting here? Stretching myself out for much too long?” Dick’s voice is flat but breathy, both hands braced behind him again.
“I- yes. I do- I saw-”
“So after all that waiting, after begging for you, Wally, you. I can only be so patient.”
“Well- yes, I- I didn’t mean to make you wait-” He pulls the goggles off and flings them somewhere behind him.
“So you’re gonna phase out of the suit and fuck me. Right now.”
Wally nods frantically and phases out of the suit completely. It crumples to the floor as if there was never anything inside it.
“Sorry-” he breathes. He crawls back onto the bed, grabbing Dick’s ankle to pull his legs open. “Can we- um- can you flip over?”
Dick flips over without hesitation, settling on all fours. “Like this?” His voice shifts back to that earlier tone hungry, unsteady, filthy.
“Yes- you’re perfect.” Wally’s already leaking. It’s not like he could notice anything about himself when Dick was right here, so perfectly spread open.
Wally wants him split in half over his cock, making those beautiful noises again but this time because of him.
He lines himself up with Dick and takes a deep breath before pushing in.
“Oh- fuck-” Dick hisses, pushing his hips back the second Wally’s in. He doesn’t even have to move. He just rests a hand on Dick’s hip and watches him slide back, and it’s mesmerizing.
Wally shifts his hips slightly, pressing them flush to Dick’s ass. The moan Dick lets out is broken- almost sounds like a cry.
That sound sends a spark up Wally’s spine.
He can’t hold still anymore. He drags himself out halfway then snaps his hips forward, sharp, needy.
Dick gasps, then groans, forehead pressed into the mattress.
“Yes-” Dick pants, voice shaking. “Don’t stop now, please da-”
He cuts himself off, swallowing hard. Wally grips his hips tighter, pulse racing. “You’re so- fuck- you’re so good like this, Dick. You’re-”
He chokes on a desperate noise and thrusts again, deeper this time. Dick’s back arches. “I liked it- when you called me that earlier.” He keeps thrusting not exactly even, but between Dick moaning and how good this feels, he’s not sure why his brain hasn’t short-circuited yet.
“W-Wally, please-” Dick’s actually crying now, pleading- “Daddy- please!”
He slams his hips back against Wally hard enough that if he didn’t have super healing, it’d leave a bruise. Wally matches him, thrusting into Dick just as hard as he wants. The speed he’s going at isn’t even human but thank fuck he’s a meta, right?
The ringing phone makes them both jolt. Wally doesn’t even register it until Dick lets out a shaky breath that sounds too close to a sob. “It’s your phone,” Dick rasps, cheek pressed to the mattress. “Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”
But Wally’s already fumbling for it, half-blind with arousal. He doesn’t even pull out, just shifts his weight awkwardly so he can reach his jeans. The screen lights up. Flora.
“Shit,” he breathes, thumb hovering. “I should- I should answer-”
“Do it,” Dick says, voice thin. “Put her on speaker.”
Wally stares at him. “Come on, you want her to hear, right?” Dick’s voice drops to a whisper. “Want her to know how good I sound when you fuck me like this?”
Wally makes a strangled noise. “What the fuck- Dick-”
“Answer it,” Dick purrs, “and keep going.”
Wally’s hand trembles as he swipes to answer.
“Hello?” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “H-Hey.”
“Wally?” Flora’s voice is warm, confused. “You okay? You sound-”
He doesn’t get a chance to respond.
Dick moans. Not loud, not theatrical, it's soft and raw, like he’s trying not to let it out. Like he can’t help it.
There’s a pause on the line.
“Was that-?”
“Uh- sorry- sorry, I-” Wally winces, still moving, slower now, trying to stay quiet.
Dick isn’t helping. He lifts his hips just slightly, enough that Wally sinks deeper. He exhales right next to the mic.
“Who’s that?” Flora’s voice sharpens. “Is someone with you?”
Wally’s mouth opens. No sound comes out.
Dick tilts his head toward the phone, smiling like a sinner.
“Hi, Flora,” he whispers.
Wally freezes.
“Dick?” she says, stunned.
“I missed you earlier,” Dick murmurs, hips shifting again. Wally groans low and helpless. “But I think I figured out how to get your attention.”
“What the fuck is going on-”
“He’s still inside me,” Dick says sweetly, like he’s telling a secret.
His thighs are shaking now, every muscle straining to keep steady. He’s so deep in Dick he can barely breathe tight, hot, slick and every time he tries to pull back, Dick draws him in again, like gravity.
“Wally,” Flora’s voice is rising, furious, breathless, “What- why?”
Wally moans without meaning to, and the sound it pulls from Dick is ruined and gorgeous, like something’s breaking open in his chest.
It’s too much. The way Dick clenches around him, the way his spine arches just slightly like he’s reaching for more, like he’s starving for it makes Wally dizzy. Every thrust is slicker now, deeper, and Wally can’t find the rhythm because Dick keeps dragging him in, breath catching like a hook in his throat. He wants to slow down, but Dick keeps rocking back, tighter, wetter, better fuck. It’s too good.
It’s better than anything he’s ever felt, and Flora’s still on the line, and Dick’s still talking, and Wally he’s still inside him.
Dick closes his eyes and whispers, “He sounds so good when he’s about to come, doesn’t he?”
There’s silence on the line.
Flora’s voice cuts like static. “Wally, what the actual fuck is happening right now-”
Dick exhales like a sigh, deliberately close to the mic. “He’s still inside me,” he says sweetly, syrupy. “Fuck, he feels amazing.” He grinds his hips back against Wally, Wally groans, too far gone, helpless. Dick smiles through it, wicked. He rocks back and fourth using Wally’s cock to fuck himself.
“Let me guess,” Dick purrs. “You called to be sweet? To say goodnight?” He laughs, low and awful. Wally makes a choked noise, shame curling in his chest only for it to burn into something darker. Want. Need.
Flora’s breath catches on the line. “You’re disgusting.”
Dick hums. “You should see what he looks like when he comes for me.”
And then Wally does. Right then. It’s ruinous. And Flora hears every second. He drops the phone somewhere near the pillow. Neither of them care where it lands.
“Dick-” Wally says it like he’s about to say more but he doesn’t. He just grabs Dick’s hips again, bruising fingers digging into flesh. He starts thrusting, faster now. Rougher. Like he doesn’t have time to waste.
He leans over him, bites his shoulder hard, really bites this time, until Dick jerks with a cry and grabs at him blindly.
Wally grunts, his hand finding Dick’s cock again. He wraps around it, already slick from sweat and precum, and starts moving fast. Too fast. It hums in his palm, vibrating like static, like a live wire pressed against skin.
Dick's head tips back, mouth open, breath catching on every thrust. He can’t think. Can’t breathe. All he knows is the tight burn in his stomach and Wally's hand and the sound he’s making-
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, Wally, I-” His whole-body tenses. Wally doesn’t stop. Doesn't let him stop.
Dick comes so hard it pulls a sound out of him that doesn’t even sound human. It rips through him. He doesn’t feel where it lands some on his chest, some against Wally’s hand he’s just shaking, lungs stuttering, vision gone white.
Wally’s still moving, still fucking him like he’s chasing something Dick hasn’t even dreamed of. Like it’s his turn now to come apart.
Wally doesn’t stop until his body jerks like a current’s shot through him, and he comes with a low groan, collapsing over Dick like he’s been hit by a truck.
Their skin sticks together, soaked and shaking.
For a minute, the only sound is their breathing harsh and uneven.
“Jesus,” Wally mutters. “I think I just saw God.”
Dick doesn’t answer. He can’t. His arms are jelly, legs numb, skin too hot everywhere Wally touches him. His breath is shallow, like the air’s been knocked clean out of his chest.
“You’re so perfect, baby.” Wally pushes Dick’s hair off the back of his neck and kisses there, soft pecks trailing up and down.
“You’re crushing me-” Dick coughs hard, and Wally immediately lifts off him, flopping beside him on the bed.
But he doesn’t stop touching him. He keeps brushing his hair back, gentle fingers finding the strands stuck to Dick’s forehead. His face is wrecked, eyes red and glassy, mouth wet with drool, cheeks flushed.
Wally pulls him close again, guiding Dick’s head to his chest, still playing with his hair. Dick hums against him, eyelids fluttering shut. He yawns, barely audible, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”