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Dick ducks his head as he follows Bruce down into the Batcave. They're going down early to work on a case, and they'd planned it at an inconvenient time. Everyone else was busy. Bruce likely knew Dick wanted to get him alone. Probably thought it was because Dick wanted to talk to him about something.
Trying not to squirm, Dick lets himself savor Bruce's ignorance. In his mind, a thrill of excitement keeps him company, and he glances down to make sure his developing erection is unnoticeable. The baggy jeans hide it, and he's grateful he wasn't the one who picked out his outfit today.
“We'll need to run a scan of the police radio chatter we recorded last night, see if something minor will tip us off,“ Bruce is saying as Dick joins him by the Batcomputer.
”Makes sense. Manual or using the algorithm?“ Dick asks, even though he suspects they'll do the latter and review it manually only if it doesn't flag anything.
”The algorithm. You'll look at social media posts while I scan collected metadata for mentions of the perp.“
”Got it,“ Dick says. He sits down, feels a thrill shiver down his spine.
Bruce sits down in his larger chair, just a few feet away, and sets up the algorithm before beginning his work. He's in the posture he adopts when he assumes Dick has something minor to bring up. Not defensive, like when a bigger argument is brewing, no— he's got his shoulders relaxed and his expression neutral. Hell, his feet are crossed at the ankle. It's a minor thing, but Dick knows he never does it when he's Batman mode.
He considers, but decides to wait a little longer. This case should get worked on, after all. If it lets the tension build, then so much the better.
There's a strange sensation of disquiet as he pulls up one of the crime scene pictures to get a better idea of what he's looking for. Ah, that's right, the blood. He minimizes it and refocuses on his assignment. Searching through social media involves a lot of scrolling, regardless of how he refines his searches and the programs he's running to make it more efficient. With part of his mind, Dick lets his thoughts run wild. Imagines Bruce's face when he catches him, the way he won't understand what's happening— Or maybe he will, and he'll fight it. He doesn't think Bruce'll manage it, not when this is the first time, but...
He's reassured, thinking of the other times this has worked. How they usually don't even notice, if he pushes it hard enough. And then Bruce will bend over so easily for him, and Dick will get to taste him as much as he wants. He's wanted him for so long and now... Well, maybe he'll finally be able to scratch that daddy-kink shaped itch.
Dick shakes his head. He doesn't have a daddy kink. Something in his mind seems to raise an eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes at it, ignoring the images he feels sent his way.
Refocusing, he finds a few potential hits. Maybe this person who tagged themselves at the club across the street but left right around the time of the murder saw something. If not, their phone likely picked up adjacent networks, ones that they could use to hunt for the killer's phone signal. If the killer was smart, they wouldn't have a phone on them, of course, but it looked like a crime of passion, unplanned. Besides, phones were basically like organs at this point. Dick certainly has his on hand.
“Dick,” Bruce says, and it's in that tone he gets when he's working up to say something he thinks is important.
“Yeah?” Dick asks, pretending like he doesn't notice anything's up.
“You're... Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn't I be?” Dick turns to face Bruce, eyebrows raised. Mischief threads through his mind. Not yet, he thinks.
“Something's off.“ Bruce is visibly certain of that, brows drawn together in that way he does when he's himself and not Batman. Dick's charmed by it.
”I just stayed up a little later than usual last night, B. Don't worry about it.“
”That's not it,“ Bruce says, and he stands up and comes closer. That's not normal. Dick must be acting really off. He feels kind of like a kid trying to hide the fact that he's high at a family dinner, piling up a plate with sloppy coordination and keeping his mouth full so he can’t say anything stupid. Something shifts inside him. He shivers.
”Dick.” Bruce reaches out a hand in concern, pressing it against his forehead. It’s warm. Dick meets his eyes. They're blue, just like his. Worried. A long moment passes, and then—
Contact.
Dick's mind is lighter as his boyfriend passes into his father. Bruce doesn't have time to process— he'd been open and vulnerable with Dick, which means that he only has his barest defenses up. Dick doesn't even see a shred of fear or panic cross his face. Joey moves pretty fast, after all.
'Do you want him all the way down?' Joey signs.
'For now,' Dick signs back.
Joey's a lot stronger now than he was during their Titans days— back then, everyone he possessed was conscious. They'd express confusion, beg for Joey to get out, demand an explanation. Dick tries not to squirm at the thought of Bruce doing that. Now, though, Joey can push people all the way down in their minds, so that they wake up confused, no idea of what's happened since he stepped inside.
That's probably the better idea, given Bruce's mental defenses. They're probably not going to have a lot of time regardless.
“Dick,” Joey tries in Bruce's voice.
Dick shudders.
“Actually, there's one way you can help me,” he says, taking Bruce's wrist in hand and tugging him down until he's close enough to kiss.
His lips are softer than Dick had imagined. He's got a civilian identity to maintain, but Dick didn't realize before that this meant keeping his lips smooth and unchapped. Dick puts his hand in Bruce's hair and deepens the kiss.
Joey goes along with it, silent enjoyment obvious with the way he licks into Dick's mouth. Bruce's teeth are perfectly straight, even though Dick knows he's had an insane amount of dental work done. Probably because of that, actually. He tastes like spit and the coffee he'd been drinking earlier.
Dick stands, steps into Bruce's space, puts his hand on his waist and lines their bodies up. Joey makes a low noise with Bruce's throat, and Dick swallows it. He walks Joey backward. Joey lets himself be led, pressed against the Batcomputer's console.
Dick slides his fingers underneath Bruce's shirt, running them over skin roughened by scars. It's easy to forget how much damage Bruce has sustained over the years— he keeps most of his body covered, most of the time. Dick wants to see it. He pulls the shirt up, and Joey works with him, helping to tug the shirt over Bruce's head and tossing it to the side. It doesn’t make it far, Dick half-registers.
For a moment, Dick considers trying to go pick it up, make sure it doesn't wrinkle. But Bruce is going to know this happened, regardless of how well Joey contains him. No reason to waste the limited time they have.
“Bruce,” he murmurs. “You're amazing.”
Joey is looking down at Bruce's muscled torso, too, fingers running absently down a scar on his chest. Dick doesn't know what it feels like. Imagines it must feel amazing. He leans down and presses his lips to the scar, Joey spreading his fingers to make room. Dick licks out, feeling the way Joey’s fingers and the scar and the skin around it contrast each other. Bruce tastes faintly of sweat, though he's showered recently enough that it's not very strong.
There's a hand in his hair— Joey, but it's Bruce's hand and that does something for Dick, something big— running through it. Dick can't help but move further down. He wraps his lips around Bruce's nipple. Circling his tongue around the nub, he moans, before starting to suck.
“Did you want me to be your mother instead of your father? Is that what this is?” And Joey's not perfect, even with his powers, but he's close enough. Dick whines and tightens his lips. Sucks harder. Joey groans, fingers still in Dick's hair. His grip shifts, but it stays gentle. Familiar and unfamiliar at once, it sends another thrill shooting through Dick's body. He nuzzles at Bruce's breast as he pulls away with a pop, looking up at him.
Joey smiles down at him, fond, just a bit too wide to actually be Bruce. Dick can't help but smile back, delighted to have this chance.
“Maybe,” he hedges, belatedly answering the question. He's running his hands over Bruce's body again, and Joey hasn't let him go yet, so he's still so close. Dick reaches down and slides beneath Bruce's waistband— loose sweatpants today, which made it so easy.
“My little Oedipus,” Joey says, and Dick pinches his ass. Joey gasps, laughing.
“I didn't say anything when we slept with your dad, so you've gotta extend me the same courtesy.“ Dick's only half-focused, cupping his father's ass in one hand and squeezing it. It's incredibly firm, with only a small amount of give. Dick can't wait to spread his cheeks open and press inside.
”I never agreed to that,“ Joey laughs, leaning down and kissing at the crown of Dick's head. ”Now what does my son want? My baby boy seemed awfully hungry earlier, does he want some milk?“
Dick groans and tries not to think of either interpretation— sucking at Bruce's nipples until they were red and sore, or at his cock until he finally came down Dick's throat. But Dick's only going to have one chance, and he wants to go all the way.
”Want my Mommy's pussy,“ he says, and Joey freezes, clearly not having expected Dick to dive into the little game they're playing headfirst. They'd had plans, but the idea of doing this... like this? It's appealing for reasons Dick's sure he should probably be discussing with a therapist.
”Oh,“ Joey murmurs, sliding his hand down to cup Dick's face. ”Is that all?“
Dick leans into it, letting his eyes close. Bruce's rough, calloused palm against his cheek is so soothing. If they had contact like this normally... Dick might be a different person. Not that this is Bruce's fault. He rubs his cheek against Joey, savoring it, before slowly opening his eyes to look at him again.
Bruce is looking down at him so gently, so soft. It's unbelievable. It's not Bruce. Still, Dick lets out a noise that he realizes sounds almost pained. Joey creases Bruce's brows and pulls back, signing: 'Dick? Are you okay?'
'I'm fine. Give me a second,' Dick frees his hands and signs back. He inhales slowly. Exhales slower. Keeps his eyes open, even though he'd like to close them, just so he can see Joey-as-Bruce, make sure he's not missing anything.
After a few seconds, Dick's back in the right headspace, for the most part. He nods at Joey, and Joey nods back.
“Take these off?” Dick asks, tugging at Bruce's pants. Joey slides his hands down, hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband. Bruce's toned stomach was something, sure, but Dick feels his mouth water as the top of his cock is revealed, then the beginnings of his powerful, hairy thighs. Dick is transfixed. He swallows as Joey manages to get the pants over his cock— he's hardening already, and it caught against the waistband.
Dick swallows and presses in close again, kissing Joey to feel Bruce's soft lips and burgeoning stubble. Joey moves with him, doesn't seem to mind even as Dick presses the coarser fabric of his own jeans against Joey's bare skin.
“My son,” Joey says, pulling back. “My handsome son.”
And it's said with some gravity, despite the twinkle in Bruce's eyes.
“Mother. Mom. Mommy,” Dick tries, testing the words out, seeing if any feel better than the obvious. They do, and they don't. He wants it all. He wants—
”Bruce,“ he says. ”Let me have you— have him. Please.“
”Of course,“ Joey agrees, thighs spreading as Dick bullies his way between them, then going easily as Dick nudges his ass up onto the console. Dick lifts one of Bruce's legs up and to the side, spreading him open and on display for Dick. His cock is plumping more, flushing red with blood. Dick can't resist it. Reaches down to grab it and slowly stroke up and down dry. The weight of it in his hand is satisfying, and Joey's reaction— a quiet grunt, exactly the sound Bruce would make in the dreams Dick's had of this moment— fills him even more with want.
He moves down to Bruce's hole, prodding at it with dry fingers. It's puckered tight, probably hasn't taken anything before. Dick is extremely pleased at the idea of being his first. It's a possessive thing that curls through him, one he'd normally deny.
There's a small amount of give, but he's going to need to lubricate at least a little. Dick tugs out the packet of lube he or Joey had slipped in his pants pocket before, then tears it open and drizzles it over his fingers.
“He's tight,” Dick explains.
Joey's normally soundless laugh is deep.
”Anyone could have told you Batman's a tight-ass,“ he says.
Dick smacks his thigh with his unlubricated hand, though it doesn't stop Joey's laughter. He rolls his eyes and starts rubbing at Bruce's hole, coaxing it open. It takes a little bit to get the first finger in, but he's happy to sit here, taking Bruce's body in.
He's flushed, red showing beneath the air on his chest, which is going up and down like he's in the middle of a fight. His cock is fully hard now, pointing up and out and just a little to the right. It's a bright red, tempting. Dick considers it, but what he really wants is...
Bruce's tits are large with muscle, and they're so soft when Dick leans in and presses his lips against them again. There's a scar hiding under the hair here— a long one from a knife, maybe. Dick kisses it, then goes for the nipple he hadn't sucked on before. He wants them both to be as bright red as his cock, wants them to stand out— wants Bruce to feel them when they rub against fabric later. He wants Bruce to know, regardless of the consequences.
”You're doing wonderfully,“ Joey says, clearly playing at being Bruce again. He pants, selling it. “Taking such good care of Mommy. Can't wait to have you inside, Dick. I've always wanted it, wanted you, my handsome boy, my beautiful boy.”
Dick presses another finger inside, works Bruce's hole open just enough as he laves at his breasts. When he finally gets a third finger in, he sucks a hickey into the skin of Bruce's left tit, wide and round next to the nearly incandescent nipple.
“Ready, Mommy?” he asks, though he thinks this will be the last time he calls Bruce that. It's sexy when Joey's saying it as Bruce, but it's not as good when Dick's doing it. Maybe it's sexy for Joey, though. Something to ask later.
“Yes, come on. Fill Mommy’s pussy up, sweetheart.”
And how can Dick resist that? He steps a little closer, reaches down to line himself up... and presses inside.
Bruce is just as tight as Dick imagined. He drops his head, watching as his cock spreads Bruce's hole, forcing it wide. He runs a finger over the stretched skin, speechless. Joey's watching, too, and their hair brushes, faint but present. Dick keeps going, gasping as he fucks his father. Mother. As he fucks Bruce.
“Good,” Joey says, but it's faint, almost winded. Dick wants more, and he bets Joey does, too. Fucking like this, though, with Bruce's massive body balanced on the batcomputer console... He didn't realize how perfect Bruce would feel, how hard he now wants to fuck him.
Dick pulls out and tugs at Joey's arm.
“Can you turn around, babe?“ he asks. Joey raises an eyebrow, mouth open and face pink. It's a look Dick's seen on his face dozens of times, but never on Bruce's. Dick feels his pulse accelerating, really needs to fuck Bruce now.
Wordlessly, Joey turns around, and Dick bends him over the Batcomputer's console and shoves back inside. He goes hard and fast, immediately pushing almost as deep as he can.
“Ah!” Joey says, the noise fucked out of him. It's beautiful in Bruce's baritone. Dick swallows and pulls back, the drag delicious on his cock, before fucking back in.
He realizes he wants to relish this, despite the risk— though Joey’s managed to maintain control this far— and slows down. Thrusts deep, letting himself enjoy it. Bruce’s hole is impossibly tight, clutching at him, like he doesn’t want to let Dick go. Joey doesn’t seem able to fully let it relax, even with his amazing control, and Dick kind of likes that. Likes the idea of Bruce forced open and raw, looking at his stretched asshole later, dripping Dick’s come.
“You take it so well. Always knew you were made for this, Bruce,” Dick says. Joey usually doesn’t mind this sort of thing, hasn’t seemed to this time, and he’ll let him know if he suddenly does. Dick pulls back and shoves in hard, throwing his own head back at the feeling. He finds one of his hands on Bruce’s neck, pushing him down until he’s flat against the console, his other hand bruisingly tight on Bruce’s hip.
“That’s right,” Dick murmurs, staring down at the broad expanse of Bruce’s back, at the scars and muscles intertwined. Their skin slaps every time he thrusts forward, and the slick sounds of the lube moving around fill the air. They’re both starting to sweat, and he enjoys the way the blue computer light casts parts of Bruce in shadow.
Joey tightens Bruce’s hole suddenly, like he’s trying to wring the life out of Dick’s cock. Dick laughs and manages to keep thrusting, forcing his way through. Joey loves to tease.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asks.
“Dick?” Bruce says— or Joey’s approximation of Bruce— and Dick catches on to the game immediately, muffling a groan. He presses Bruce’s neck harder against the console, wishing they’d thought to tie his hands together first. Maybe Dick’ll do that if Joey pushes things that way. Dick doesn’t say anything, just keeps moving, chasing his own pleasure.
“What is this— What’s going on?”
“You don’t have to pretend for me,” Dick says, just so Joey knows. He doesn’t mind either way— Joey was already lovely enough to give him this, more on top is just a bonus.
“What?” Joey gasps out on Dick’s next thrust, and he starts squirming, pressing one hand against the console and moving like he’s going to get up. Dick reaches over and grabs for Bruce’s discarded t-shirt, moves quickly to catch his wrists and bind them. It’s impromptu and easy to get out of, and Joey knows how to sign their ‘stop’ sign, even bound.
“Shhh,” Dick whispers, leaning forward, hand still on Bruce’s bound wrists, where he can feel movement. He kisses at his neck. “Don’t worry, Bruce. Your hole is perfect for me. All you need to do is lie there and take it.”
He punctuates his last words with a thrust, grinding his hips deep and then rotating just a little, trying to feel out all that he can reach. His cock is achingly hard now, and he feels his balls drawing up. Doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he holds still for a second. He’s close to Bruce’s neck, so he takes the opportunity to nibble at it.
“Dick, listen to me. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to stop. Pull out.” And Joey’s gotten so much better so fast, it’s insane. It’s driving Dick insane.
Dick shudders and bites harder, scolding.
“You’re going to make me come if you keep talking to me like that,” he warns. Talking about it brings him even closer, he finds himself struggling to stay still. “Gonna come deep in your ass, where you can’t clean it out. Gonna fill you up.”
“Do not come inside me. Dick.”
Dick groans, pulling back slowly. He can’t help it. There’s a sigh of relief as the head is nearly out— which gets punched out as Dick pounds back in.
“Dick!” Joey says, his impression of a panicked Bruce perfect.
Dick can’t respond, not around the clench of Bruce’s hole around his cock or the way Bruce’s shoulder muscles work or the grunts-turned-whines coming from Bruce’s throat.
“Tell me to stop again,” Dick gasps, wanting it.
Joey doesn’t say anything, but that’s fine, Dick’s right on the edge.
“You can’t, can you? Your slutty hole wants it so bad. Always knew you wanted it, I always—” Dick’s cut off by his orgasm, punched out of him by his last thrust.
He moans loudly, curling up and pumping his hips, working himself through it with Bruce’s ass. It’s really the perfect hole. He needs to get a toy made to match it, since this won’t work more than a few times. His train of thought is disrupted as he grinds, each throb of his cock sending him higher.
He reaches around to grab at Bruce’s own cock, and it’s soft.
“How long ago did you come, babe?” He asks, tugging at it. Bruce’s hole goes tight around him again, drawing one last white-hot spurt from Dick. Dick keeps his eyes from rolling back, but only barely. Heat sparks down his back, then through his belly.
“You’re perfect,” Dick murmurs, resting his weight on Bruce’s broad back and letting his hole warm his cock a little longer. Just a little longer, and he and Joey will (mostly) clean Bruce up and get out of here. A minute or two. His body is so big, so warm, so comfortable. He can carry anything, Dick thinks, knowing it’s a bit of his childish idolization of Bruce lingering.
Bruce’s labored breathing continues beneath him.