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The first time it happened Dick was only twelve. If you had asked him, he would never have phrased it as “only” anything, but looking back on it. He was only twelve.
He and Batman had gone up against the Scarecrow earlier that night, easily defeating him. Unfortunately, Batman’s air filter had been cracked during a fight with some nobody goon, rendering him susceptible to a new variation of fear toxin.
Despite the new formula, Batman had injected himself with an antitoxin in the Batmobile on the way back to the Batcave in the hopes that the new formula would be similar enough to the original for the antitoxin to have some effect.
Batman’s guess was right. Somewhat.
By the time they got back to the Batcave and had changed out of their uniforms, Bruce was clearly starting to feel some kind of effect. His face was flushed and shiny with sweat, and his pupils were dilated to the point where Dick could barely see any blue to them at all.
Dick wasn’t sure how to deal with this reaction. Usually when fear toxin took hold of someone, they would either be screaming in agony or catatonic, not this in between, hazy state.
He decided to act as if everything was normal. If there was anything to worry about, surely Bruce would tell him. So he did his usual thing after a successful mission and turned towards the stairs, intent on dropping by the kitchen for a late night snack and to bid Alfred goodnight before heading to bed.
Suddenly, instead of making progress in that direction, he found himself yanked back against his partner’s chest, much harder than Bruce would usually let himself be with the boy. The arms wrapped around him were tightly wrapped around him, clinging to him desperately.
“Don’t go,” he heard whispered in his ear. Bad sign.
Clearly the toxin was still having some effect on Bruce’s mind, despite the attempted antitoxin. The first thing to do would be to take a blood sample to attempt to synthesize a new antitoxin in case one of them were dosed again, but Dick was trapped in Bruce’s grip, unable to find leverage and unwilling to hurt the intoxicated man to escape, and Bruce was obviously too out of his head to follow proper procedure. Usually he would be the first to insist on proper follow up to such an incident.
Instead, Dick found himself carried to one of the cots they kept in the Batcave for long nights and late missions. Bruce laid them both down, his body wrapped around Dick only just shy of crushing him. Dick’s face was pressed against Bruce’s chest, and his partner’s legs were now wrapped around Dick’s slim hips.
Dick was unsure what to do in this situation. Ordinarily, if he were in a situation where he was unsure, he could rely on Batman’s wisdom, but that outlet was gone. He could only lay there, trapped, as Bruce squeezed him like a teddy bear.
After a while - Dick had no way of knowing how long, but it could have easily been minutes or hours - Bruce began to nuzzle at Dick’s hair, pressing his cheek against the top of his head and rubbing it back and forth occasionally. It didn’t feel bad, and Dick was always appreciative of any physical affection nowadays (he used to get plenty of hugs in the circus, but he tries not to think about that), so he let it be. Not like he had a choice.
“You’re safe. You’re okay here,” Bruce grumbled, voice hoarse from disuse and a night of growling as Batman.
It seemed as if the fear toxin had him scared for Dick’s safety. That eased something in the boy’s chest to realise. That explained his strange actions and manhandling. It was almost cute in a way, if a man eleven years his elder who fought crime nightly could be considered such a thing.
Dick finally untensed, deciding to bask in the hug he was getting as a side effect of the toxin’s claim on Bruce’s mind. It wasn’t like it was hurting the man, and it wasn’t like he had a choice. He eventually drifted off to sleep in his partner’s arms, hoping the toxin would wear off by morning. If not, at least tomorrow was a Sunday.
-
The next morning, Bruce was nowhere to be found. As Dick groggily clawed his way to wakefulness, however, he remembered a still fading dream.
He was still in the cot in the cave in the dream, and it was strangely realistic for a dream, but it couldn’t be anything else.
All he could remember was being woken briefly by a back and forth movement, moans and whispers of “Mommy, please, I’m sorry, mommy” in his ear. A strange dream, but Dick, a well educated adolescent, was aware that dreams like that were common at his age and didn’t mean anything.
He pointedly chose to ignore the wet spot on his hip where Bruce had been wrapped around him the previous night.
--------
The second time it happened, he was 17. This time, the relationship between Batman and his “sidekick” was both closer and more distant. No longer did Dick look at Batman with stars in his eyes, but at the same time, no longer was he sidelined for as many of the more gruesome cases.
It felt like a double edged sword sometimes, to be more grown. He hadn’t been a child since his parent’s deaths, but Bruce admittedly, had done what he could to preserve as much of his innocence as he could. Dick wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
Dick had forgotten the first incident for a long time, but nowadays, what with his increasingly complicated relationship with Bruce, he was thinking back on it. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that either, or how to feel about the incident itself.
He mostly remembered it at night on his own, with the subsequent reaction varying greatly depending on how he was feeling. Sometimes it sent chills through him. Sometimes he felt like he was on fire. He didn’t like to think about it, but he thought about it nonetheless.
The night began like so many others. The Batsignal sighted above the skies of Gotham. A police report detailing the sighting of Poison Ivy in the offices of a pesticide company of dubious reputation.
The fight, as well, was nothing out of the ordinary. Batman and his “sidekick” Robin snuck into the afflicted offices to find plants trashing the place. They fought. They won. They sent Ivy back to Arkham for however long this time. They returned to the Batcave.
This time there wasn’t any warning that Batman had been dosed with anything. There was no clear breakage on his respirator, and Robin, who would have been afflicted sooner if it was an issue with their filtration system due to his smaller size, was showing no changes.
However, when they arrived at the Batcave, just like before, Dick found himself yanked against Bruce’s larger body before he knew what was happening.
Shocked, Dick squirmed in the older man’s grasp to try and get away, or at least turn around and see his face. Instead, he just felt himself yanked harder to Bruce’s front, one arm low around his waist and one arm pinning his chest, both entirely unmovable.
If Dick hadn’t had the first incident on his mind, he would have never made a connection, but with the amount that his “dream” had been circling in his head lately, it was impossible to deny the similarities.
This time, however, it wasn’t just the unknown combination of chemicals from a new fear toxin fighting with an incomplete antidote, it was a mind altering substance from a villain known to utilise aphrodisiacs against her opponents.
Once again, Dick found himself carried to a cot in the back of the cave and pressed down upon it. Unlike last time, Bruce was far more worked up and clearly out of his mind instead of just a little hazy.
Dick had no idea what to do. He couldn’t allow Bruce to act out the urges forced upon him by a sex pollen. Bruce had no way to consent to anything, no matter how much Dick might want it.
Did he want it?
Did he not want it?
This was not the time to finally address this crisis.
Bruce had already situated Dick and himself how he wanted them while Dick was caught up in his moral and sexual crisis. He was now laying over Dick, chest to chest, with both of his broad thighs straddling one of Dick’s thinner ones.
Any sign of consciousness was gone from his eyes, and he was panting and red as he began to press his hips against Dick’s thigh, grinding down harshly.
This couldn’t be mistaken for a wet dream; it was too real, too hot, too terrifying.
Bruce had no control over the situation, and without any real leverage to free himself, neither did Dick. It was almost tempting to lay back and let whatever the aphrodisiac prompted play out. But that would be rape.
Dick wasn’t sure against whom.
And Dick still wasn’t sure if he wanted this while they both had their heads on straight, or if he felt nauseated at the mere thought. Sometimes it was both at once, which was giving him a real complex about his sexuality.
No matter what solution to the trolly problem-eqsue philosophical and ethical quandary posed by this situation Dick settled on, there was no changing the reality of the situation that Bruce was still grinding his clothed dick on Dick’s thigh, and now he was moving his head to begin panting against his collarbone and- Oh! Mouthing at the side of his neck.
Dick near instinctively pressed his hips back up against Bruce in response to that stimulus, prompting a deep, guttural moan right into his ear, which did not help the situation in Dick’s pants in the slightest.
Dick really had to find a way out of this before it went even further beyond the point where neither of them could take this back.
His train of thought was thrown so far off the tracks it became an airborne vehicle, though, when Bruce’s hands began groping down his front and massaging his chest as if there was anything really to grab there. It was more pleasurable than it had any right to be, even through his undershirt.
He didn’t have the force of mind to keep track of what was happening, held down by a much larger man and feeling the heat of him all along his front, too much pleasure to think.
He only came to enough to consider resisting again when he realised that Bruce had lost his shorts somewhere and felt him attempting to pull Dick’s cock out from his waistband. The sight alone of Bruce’s dick and the visibly wet pussy behind it made Dick twitch in Bruce’s grasping hand, earning a snort of amusement through the mindless lust.
Of all things to begin to pull him out of this and it's making fun of Dick. Typical.
Either way, Bruce succeeded in freeing Dick’s aching erection from his pants, promptly returning to his apparent preferred location of resting on top of Dick, keeping him still with his body and rutting against him.
Dick gasped as he felt his own dick frot against Bruce’s and along the wet lips beyond it. Dick hadn’t had much time to fool around what with his triple life as a socialite, a student, and a crime fighter, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it would feel like this.
Just the heat of slick flesh against his own had him gasping out and arching his back, pressing back against the hips pressing his own down against the bed in an attempt to feel more, even just a millimeter more skin against skin.
Bruce, as well, was clearly affected. More than Dick, even, due to the pollen still in his bloodstream.
The thought of that barely made a dent in the overwhelming pleasure Dick was feeling, even just pressing against the outside of Bruce’s opening.
Suddenly, Bruce let out a gasping moan, falling against Dick’s chest, hips stuttering as he continued to grind them together.
“Mommy,” he gasped out, “Please, Mommy, you feel so good.”
The word jolted Dick out of the pleasured daze he had been in. At least that answered his questions about how real his previous run in with an intoxicated Bruce was.
It made sense, in a way. Bruce, like Dick, lost his parent’s at a young age. He had what amounted to a father figure in Alfred, but no equivalent maternal presence. Dick had seen enough non-normative families in his time to know it wasn’t impossible to raise a kid without a mother, but to have and then lose one with nothing replacing that place in a kid’s life was sure to sting.
What didn’t make sense, however, was why Bruce was using that term to refer to Dick.
Dick was years younger than him, and although he tended to be a bit of a mother hen sometimes, Bruce rarely, if ever, allowed himself to be taken care of by anyone but Alfred on the rare occasion.
His musings were cut off by Bruce jerking his hips once, twice, and letting out the hottest moan Dick had ever heard, presumably coming his brains out and hopefully dissipating the pollen’s effects.
The real problem now lay in what Dick was supposed to do about this.
He was rock hard, covered in Bruce’s wetness, and still trapped underneath the now deadweight man blanketing him with his own body.
As much as his own extremely worked up libido would insist, there was no way Dick was going to use his afflicted mentor to relieve his arousal. That would be crossing the line even more than they already had, and that was saying something.
As the only clear headed individual, he wouldn’t- couldn’t make the choice to continue this past what was already forced upon him.
Even with his aching length still pressed up against Bruce’s labia. No matter how hot and slick they felt.
The involuntary twitch his cock made from thinking about it didn’t count.
“Bruce,” He tried to wheeze out, hoping perhaps he would be responsive after clearing out the pollen’s effects.
No response.
A snore.
Fuck damn it.
Dick ended up eventually falling asleep with the bluest balls of his life with Bruce laying on top of him all the while.
-
When he woke up, Bruce was once again gone. This time, at least, Dick was sure it was not a dream.
He tried multiple times to confront Bruce about it over the following weeks, but Bruce wouldn’t allow the topic to be broached and eventually began avoiding him.
None of this helped to mend their already straining relationship.
At least it helped clear up how Dick felt about his attraction towards his mentor, if nothing else.
--------
The third incident wasn’t so much an incident as it was a conversation. Dick and Bruce had been together for almost half a year when he finally decided to bring it up.
Dick had kept the first two incidents in the back of his mind the entire time they were at odds over Dick’s assertion of independence, and he never stopped thinking about it even after they had more or less talked it out and reconciled as much as possible.
He almost brought it up when they initially got together, but decided against it because of how fragile their relationship was in the beginning. They had come together in a manner not unlike the incidents- the main difference being the lack of mind altering substances and that word.
Bruce and Dick had worked together on a mission- just the two of them. It was almost nostalgic if not for the way it highlighted all the things that had changed in their dynamic. When they got back to the Batcave, they had both been worked up, full of adrenalin and hearts pounding. They shared little more than a heated glance before falling into bed together.
Bruce had tried to resist Dick’s insistence that they should expand their relationship to include this new element. He was able to avoid Dick for less than a week before he finally cornered him and forced them to talk things through- therapy was good for some things, and a better understanding of healthy relationships was complemented by an enhanced understanding of how to make Bruce admit that he wanted them to be together as much as Dick did, technically healthy or not.
They had managed to work through a lot of their issues, surprisingly, and had settled into a life that almost approached domestic- for them at least.
Once they had more or less stabilised, Dick decided it was time to address the previous incidents. He knew they likely contributed to some of Bruce’s reluctance to begin a relationship in the first place. He didn’t want to think that he had forced Dick to have feelings for him because of his “lapses of control” regardless of his own ability to consent.
Dick didn’t care about that so much as he cared about what Bruce called him during their two little trysts.
He honestly found it a mix of off putting and hot. Not quite in the same way he felt about his own feelings towards Bruce during his adolescence, but not entirely dissimilar either. He still didn’t understand what made Bruce call him, at the time a young boy no matter his own assertions of maturity, “Mommy”.
It felt like the kind of thing that should be used to refer to an older woman, or at least an older person in general. He has long understood the reasoning behind Bruce having this particular affinity, but he still longs to understand how that relates to himself.
He wasn’t uncaring towards Bruce, but he was far from any sort of caretaking or maternal figure.
-
When he finally broached the subject with his partner (in more meanings of the word nowadays), he expected another week of cat and mouse avoidance, but the man merely sighed and sat them both down to have a discussion. It seemed he had begun to resign himself to the idea that Dick was going to enforce healthy communication whether he liked it or not. Good.
“I’ve avoided discussing this for a long time, and I’m sorry for that. I know you don’t think that I did anything wrong- “
“You didn’t.”
“I did. Even if I wasn’t in control of myself it was still assault and unforgivable-”
“You always do this,” Oops. He was trying not to be confrontational during these kinds of conversations, a leftover habit from when they initially parted ways, “I don’t blame you, and it’s up to me to decide how things affect me, not you. You were just as much a victim as I was. That's not even what I wanted to talk about in the first place.”
“If you would stop interrupting me, perhaps we could have a constructive conversation about it then,” He grinned wryly. Dick shrugged. He wasn’t about to let this spiral into another guilty apology session for long forgiven mistakes. “If not about that, then what did you want to talk about?”
Dick had been thinking about this confrontation for years now. He had gone through script after script in his head for how he would bring it up, changing depending on how he was feeling about Bruce any given day, but now that he had to actually say something about it, he found it hard to get the words out.
“What you said, those times,” he managed, “What you called me. We should talk about that.”
Bruce winced. Perhaps he had assumed- or hoped- that Dick hadn’t noticed what he said. No matter, they would address this one way or another.
“Do you remember? You called me-”
“Yes, I know. I remember,” Bruce somehow managed to seem more world weary and guilty than normal, and that was a high bar.
“Now who’s interrupting?” Dick joked. It did little to ease the increased tension the room was now blanketed in.
Not gracing this with a response, Bruce simply watched him, an uncertainty in his eyes no one but Dick would be able to recognise. (Except maybe Superman; Dick had always wondered about their relationship. Either way, Dick and Bruce were together now. He was too late to do much about any feelings he might harbour.)
“I don’t really mind. I can understand why you might be interested in that kind of thing,” Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed at the phrasing, “I just don’t understand why you’d want to call me that.”
Dick shrugged as if to say ‘your turn’.
Bruce took a moment to consider his words.
“I know we’ve talked a lot-” Dick smiled smugly, “yes, you’ve enforced ‘healthy communication’ very well. good job. -about how my issues affected your upbringing once you came to live with me as my ward. I’ve tried to be open about how I was still very much unhealed from the loss of my parents, and that affected my ability to care for you and influenced the way I saw you.
“I saw myself in you, to an extent, in the ways we had both been orphaned and dealt with loss, but I saw you as coping with it better. I know now that that is not true and that you simply approached grief differently from me, but at the time I viewed you as someone who knew what to do, despite your youth. I know it was unfair of me to place that on a child, but, and this is not an excuse, but I was little more than a child myself, and placed you on a pedestal where you would be able to fix me,”
He looked down at his clasped hands.
“While I was able to learn better not long after taking you in, that near idolisation had already taken root. I viewed you, and I still do somewhat, to be perfectly honest, as a healing presence, as someone who would take care of me. I did not allow myself to give into the urge a majority of the time- I knew that was too far despite my ignorance otherwise- but as you obviously saw, when I let my guard down, it revealed itself to you, even at an impressionable age.”
Bruce sighed deeply.
Dick was no stranger to Bruce’s long, apologetic soliloquies. He had sat through plenty and would sit through plenty more in order to better understand this man who he cared so much for despite everything.
It made sense. Put a gloomy, grieving young adult with so many issues accompanying his mommy issues with a bright eyed kid who’s main coping mechanism due to growing up in entertainment is to make sure people laugh and smile, forcing his own joy if he must, and while it’s certainly not unavoidable, it makes some amount of sense that some wires would get crossed in this specific way.
“Okay,” Dick responded frankly. He and Bruce had had more than enough of these Serious Talks for them to be used to the pattern of ‘long angsty tangent’ and ‘doesn’t think it’s that big of an issue and just wants to deal with it already’, so Bruce didn’t even seem surprised at this point about Dick’s casual response.
“Do you, like, still feel that way?” Dick inquired, leaning over to try and make eye contact with his partner. Honestly, he had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear the man say it.
Bruce was silent for a moment, but the way the corners of his mouth tightened made it clear that it wasn’t because he was completely over it.
Dick smirked.
“So you do, huh?” He teased. Bruce looked away again, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Nothing made Dick more pleased than teasing this man. He always tried so hard to live up to the stone-faced Batman image, but it was just so easy for Dick to break his composure.
“We should have a more serious talk about this and boundaries and such,” Dick started, gracefully slipping out of his seat and onto Bruce’s lap. It was an awkward position with the way these chairs were designed, but Dick was more than skilled enough to maintain his seductive countenance despite the flexibility required to maneuver his way onto a grown man’s lap, “But right now, wouldn’t you rather make Mommy feel good?”
He spoke the last words directly into Bruce’s ear and pulled back to see his reaction.
It was glorious.
Bruce was attracted to Dick, he knew, and he showed it often. This response, however, blew his normal reaction out of the water.
Bruce’s pupils were blown wide and his blush had deepened into a beautiful rosy flush. His lips were just parted, and Dick’s gaze followed as his tongue traced his bottom lip.
He couldn’t help kissing the man then, instantly turning it heated. They normally approached sex as equals, but today Dick couldn't help setting the pace himself, taking control immediately. He wasn’t really into the whole “Mommy” thing himself, but the way Bruce reacted sent his blood rushing south and his mind into a frenzy.
The best part of it was that Bruce just let him do whatever he wanted, easily ceding to Dick’s unspoken demands. It was a heady feeling, and if it took calling himself “Mommy” to get Bruce to respond like this, he was more than willing to do so.
Breaking their kiss and pulling back, Dick asked in a rough voice, “What does my boy want Mommy to do? Do you wanna fuck your Mommy is that it? Fill Mommy’s hole and make him feel good?”
It was weird how natural it felt to talk like this, but he failed to care as Bruce wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck and moaned brokenly.
“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Dick teased, caressing the back of Bruce’s head as he panted into his neck, “Wanna carry Mommy to our bed, baby?”
Bruce was out of his chair like a shot, easily supporting his partner’s weight like he so often did above the streets of Gotham.
Dick laughed as Bruce practically ran to their bedroom with himself still wrapped around Bruce’s waist like a koala.
Once there, he didn’t hesitate to throw Dick in the general direction of the bed, knowing he would be able to take care of himself, before promptly stripping and grabbing the lube.
Dick divested himself of his own clothes, and once he was finished, he saw Bruce by the side of the bed, pinching at one of his balls to inflate his dick. Dick’s mouth watered at the sight, but he had other plans for right now.
Now fully erect, Bruce crawled onto the bed towards Dick who opened his arms and legs to embrace the man, pressing their hard cocks together and rutting slightly.
“Gonna open Mommy up, Baby? Gonna make him nice and wet for your cock? So you can slip right in and rut inside until we both feel good?” Bruce whimpered at that and oh. That was nice to hear.
Dick was glad Bruce seemed gone enough at this point to not be able to tease him for the way his dick twitched and leaked in response to the sound.
Bruce shook his head to gain enough wits to follow instructions, opening the lube and spreading enough on his fingers, warming it.
“That’s good, baby,” Dick praised and gasped when the first finger slid in all the way to the joint in one motion, “Taking good care of your Mommy,”
Bruce couldn’t hold himself back anymore and began thrusting his finger, swiftly adding a second and scissoring them to stretch Dick open.
Getting an idea, Dick took the hand he had on Bruce’s neck and guided his head to his chest.
“Wanna nurse on Mommy’s tits baby?” he asks. He doesn’t have time to think before Bruce is sucking hard on one of his nipples and even more forcefully thrusting his fingers inside Dick’s hole, curling upwards to seek out Dick’s prostate, forcing a groan out of him and the bright spark of pleasure that shoots up his spine in response.
“Yes,” he gasps out, “That’s a good boy, stretching Mommy out for your cock. Mommy’s ready now, time to let go and fuck Mommy.”
Bruce groans against Dick’s chest, pulling away from where he was sucking at his nipple to guide his cock into Dick’s aching hole.
“Oh, Mommy, you feel so good,” Bruce moans as he slides all the way into the base with one slow thrust.
“Yeah, baby? Does Mommy’s hole feel good around your dick? Gonna fuck Mommy and make me cum?” Bruce’s hips twitch in response, and the way he looks, fucked out and desperate already, makes Dick feel powerful.
“Come on, baby, move your hips,” He prompts, grinding back against Bruce.
Taking the prompting nicely, Bruce begins to fuck him in deep, grinding thrusts, barely pulling out before pounding back in. It’s a rhythm they both enjoy because most of Bruce’s sensation in his dick is near the base, and Dick likes to feel constantly stretched and full.
Unlike when he normally fucks Dick, however, Bruce’s rhythm is scattered and jerky as if he can’t think well enough to keep up a steady rhythm. It’s hotter than it should be.
After Dick feels like Bruce has had enough time on top, he flips them around, easily keeping Bruce buried inside him with his thighs clenching his hips, and seats himself deep on Bruce, balls pressing against his ass.
“Gonna let Mommy ride you?” Dick purrs, circling his hips, “Mommy’s gonna make you feel good, okay, baby?”
And he does just that, riding Bruce long and hard, getting off to the man’s reactions almost as much as the feeling of his cock battering his prostate. The way he looks up at him as he bounces up and down on his cock is almost worshipful, eyes glazed in pleasure, lips bitten red. The way he gasps and moans with abandon, clearly having let go of whatever usually keeps him half distracted even when they have sex normally.
The whole situation, riding this man and making him feel so good he, The Batman, known paranoid mess, can’t even seem to think, has Dick reaching a hand down to fist his cock as he rides, closer to the edge than he ever has been before with only this much stimulation.
Wanting to make this good for Bruce in order to encourage him to open up more and also so that he’s sure to let this happen again Dick clenches his hole to increase the pleasure and make Bruce cum as well.
“Gonna cum for Mommy?” He pants, “Come on, baby, cum inside Mommy,”
Bruce is clearly nearing orgasm as well, letting out a steady stream of whimpered “Mommy, please, Mommy. Mommy, you feel so good around me, oh!” That only fuels Dick to ride harder.
Finally, Bruce surges his hips up and cries out, higher pitched than normal, but clearly cumming. Dick forces himself to the root to let Bruce ride out his orgasm deep inside him.
Bruce is almost incoherent with pleasure, eyes locked on Dick as he remains astride his hips, but clearly unfocused.
Still hard as a rock, Dick continues to stroke his dick fast, wet and squelching with all the precum he’s been leaking.
“Can Mommy use your dick to finish, baby? I know you’re oversensitive, but Mommy still needs to cum, can you let Mommy use you?” Dick moans.
Bruce manages to nod slightly which is good enough for Dick who fucks himself back on Bruce’s cock, focusing on only his own pleasure now. Soon enough he’s sent over the edge, shooting cum across Bruce’s toned torso. He gasps and shudders, dick twitching even after he’s finished spilling his cum onto his partner.
He only allows himself a few moments to bask in the sight of Bruce covered in his come and as fucked out as he’s ever seen him before gingerly pulling off of Bruce’s dick. Bruce barely twitches at the action he’s so gone. It was hot in the moment, but now it mostly fills Dick with a warm affection for the man and pride in himself that he caused that.
He presses the release in Bruce’s balls to deflate his erection, returning him to a flaccid state before heading to the bathroom for a damp washcloth.
After they’re both clean enough of bodily fluids, Dick lays down along Bruce’s side, resting his head on a broad shoulder.
“So you really liked that, huh? I had a good time,” He brings a hand up to draw miscellaneous patterns along Bruce’s pecs, “We should do it again sometime.”
This gets a grunt out of Bruce who is clearly nearly asleep already. He turns on his side to wrap his whole body around the lithe man who he wishes he could deserve, and they fall asleep, sated and tangled in each other.