Movie Night

by Weirdness Magnet
April 11, 2004
 

Summary: Tim and Dick watch movies.  Sort of.

Disclaimers: The boys belong to DC. "Demolition Man," Wesley Snipes, Paul Verhoven, and Former Governor Jesse Ventura aren't mine either.

Rating: NC-17 (Dick/Tim)

Spoilers: None.

Acknowledgements: Te for encouragement. The Husband for making me watch "Demolition Man" at a volume that made the neighbors complain. And in honor of his birthday, to my dad for keeping his porn collection on a shelf I could reach.


***

Luring Tim over really should be harder.

All it takes is a refrigerator full of Zesti and pizza and the promise of DVDs with explosions, perhaps something Verhoven-influenced, and bam, Tim's on his doorstep with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

It's a good thing Gotham's villains don't know that the perfect Bat-lure lure is Zesti, rather than the elaborate schemes involving property damage they usually concoct.

Or, it's a bad thing. Whatever.

Tim's blinking at him. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Sure." Dick steps aside and Tim shakes his head at him.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Crime fighting and caffeinated beverages. Want a drink?"

Dick usually sticks to bottled water, but a night off is rare and the beer is from his favorite microbrewery. He hands Tim a Zesti and nods at the backpack. "You were going to anyway, but you didn't have to bring the uniform. I wasn't going to make you patrol."

"I also brought pajamas. In case it got late."

Dick blinks.

"I wasn't actually *planning* on staying, but it makes Dana feel better when I'm out late and--"

"Tim, you *know* I like having you here. You don't have to ask to stay over."

Tim relaxes visibly, and Dick rubs his back a little as he shoos him towards the sofa.

Dick is glad he doesn't have surround sound, because the explosions emanating from the TV shake the coffee table anyway, rattling the string of empty Zesti cans and beer bottles. Tim munches on a slice covered in artery-clogging meat toppings, scrutinizing the screen. He changed into his pajamas between the second and third video. The t-shirt is cotton, stretched out and worn soft by a hundred washings, paired with loose gray drawstring pants. They make Tim look like he's *just* a teenager.

Dick watches Tim watching the movie. "Let me guess. You're counting how many times the filmmakers ignored the laws of physics during each action sequence."

"I was actually counting how many times the female lead's thong was visible."

"Forty-seven. And you were not."

"Does anyone in Hollywood actually *know* how gravity works? Because you'd never know it from this movie."

Dick takes another swig of beer. "You're supposed to be enjoying Sandra Bullock in spandex, not kvetching about the liberties taken with the laws of science."

"I can do both." Tim cocks his eyebrow. "'Kvetch'?"

"It's a word."

"*I* know it's a word, I just didn't know *you* know it's a word."

"Shut up and relax."

Tim gives Dick a *look*, then wipes his mouth and *flops* down on the couch, hurling himself backwards onto the cushions, legs dangling over the arm and head resting up against Dick's thigh.

Tim peers up at him upside down. "Satisfied?"

"Freak."

Tim turns his attention back to the screen. "I can't believe this movie has a governor in it."

"What governor?"

"Jesse Ventura. Former governor, I should say."

"He's not in this movie."

"Is too. Right there, wearing the tires. One of Wesley Snipes' henchmen."

Dick squints. "Holy shit. This movie has everyone."

Tim *rubs* his head against Dick's leg, and Dick can't tell if he's just getting comfortable or has an itch he's too lazy to scratch, so he reaches down and ruffles the dark hair a little. It's silky and thick and feels good against his fingers. Tim isn't protesting or moving away, so Dick sort of pets his hair gently.

They sit there a long time, watching the movie while Dick idly strokes Tim's hair. He stills his hand once or twice, but when he does Tim wriggles under his hand until Dick resumes the petting. The contact feels good, and Dick's fingers stroke Tim's hair, down the side of his face, feeling the slight stubble.

Dick makes long, slow laps with his hand, going a little further down Tim's neck each time, and he's not really even *thinking* about it, just his hand moving across warm skin. Tim nuzzles his thigh every time his hand slows, so he keeps the rhythm and watches the movie.

He feels his hand hit something not-skin, and the cotton of the worn t-shirt is rough in comparison. He slides his hand back up, and traces the curve of Tim's ear. Tim sighs ever so softly, and when Dick looks down Tim's eyes are half-closed.

Tim arches a little into the touch on his ear, and Dick trails his index finger around the lobe, around the swirls and back up into his hair. Tim scoots up until his head rests *on* Dick's thigh, turning onto his side. This is very close to snuggling, and not at *all* what Dick is used to from Tim. He wonders briefly if something's *wrong*; maybe that's why Tim jumped at the chance to come over. Dick thinks about asking, but also knows that it's Tim, and until Tim wants to talk, he won't.

Besides, the snuggling is nice, even if Dick's not used to it.

Dick is certainly not used to being quite this *hard* around Tim, either. He's just... he's petting Tim's *hair*, for God's sake. But Dick's cock pulses pre-come into his sweats *again*, and Dick can smell his own arousal even over the beer and lukewarm pizza.

Tim sighs again.

Dick can go with it.

He doesn't have fingernails, but the blunt pressure of his fingertips against Tim's back is enough to make Tim curl into the touch a little. Dick strokes Tim's back with his left hand and caresses his hair with the right, getting a rhythm going. Tim's eyes are closed and he looks asleep, but Dick can tell he's awake from his breathing.

Dick pets the skin of Tim's neck with the back of his fingers and Tim's pulse jumps beneath his touch. Dick's *trying* to be soothing. He is. This is just about contact, being together on a couch late at night and watching bad movies and eating pizza, and Dick can't get *enough* of it.

Dick freezes a little when Tim shifts further into Dick's lap. Tim's head settles on the edge of Dick's crotch, and the erection isn't pressing against Tim's scalp *yet*, but the longer stands of Tim's hair spill gracefully over the bulge. Dick exhales slowly when Tim doesn't move any further into his lap, and starts moving his hand again.

He tells himself he's being slow and careful so he doesn't disturb Tim's not-sleep. But it's also... Dick doesn't want this to *stop*. Tim's *letting* Dick touch him, and Tim doesn't *like* being touched except when necessary. But Tim's curled up *on* him, half-asleep and letting Dick just *pet* him.

And Dick realizes that Tim's positioned so Dick gets the physical contact he likes, without Tim actually having to *give* anything of himself. All Tim has to do is lie there and let Dick touch him.

Dick snorts mentally. Even when Tim's being giving, he's being emotionally distant.

And there's a temptation to *make* Tim be less distant, but... this isn't about that. Any of that. He just wants to *touch* Tim, to lightly caress the thin skin of his jaw line and listen to Tim breathe.

His fingers catch something on the upstroke, and when he looks down he's touching Tim's parted lips. Tim's little pink tongue darts and swipes at the fingertip before Dick can pull away, closing around the tip and sucking gently.

Little nibbles and softest sucking and wet tongue flicking, and Dick has to bite his lip hard to not make noise. He starts to pull away, but then Tim's *holding* his hand in one of his and pushes the finger in further.

"Tim." It's barely a breath.

It's enough to make Tim roll onto his back, to look up at Dick and watch *him* watching Tim suck his fingers, huge pupils and a devious look and something *seizes* inside Dick's stomach.

Tim smiles around Dick's finger and *presses* his head back against Dick's erection. He draws a second finger into his mouth and *shoves* them in deep, tongue and wet and *teeth* and Dick's cock jerks *hard*.

"Tim, don't... you don't, *oh*--"

Dick has to concentrate to breathe and Tim rubs his head against Dick's erection and *sucking* and he couldn't move if someone set him on fire. Tim groans a little around his fingers, closing his eyes and Dick looks and sees a wet spot forming on Tim's pajama bottoms. Dick has to reach down and feel Tim's cock through the thin cotton pants.

"Tim, do you--" Want this, he means to say.

Tim *groans* and squeezes his hand and sucks harder. It's as good as consent in Dick's mind, and he tugs the drawstring, sliding his free hand down and wrapping it around Tim's shaft.

Tim sucks the fingers steadily and Dick's strokes match the rhythm of Tim's mouth. Tim's cock is hot and his mouth is hotter and he keeps *looking* at Dick in a way that makes him want to, god... Do everything, anything that will keep Tim *looking* at him like that, like Dick's something sexy and important. Dick needs this, *needs* to see the want in Tim's face.

Tim arches into his hand, pressing his head back against Dick's cock. Dick has to groan, and Tim makes these desperate sounds around his fingers as his rhythm goes ragged. Dick *pushes* against Tim's tongue and jacks him hard. Tim clenches his eyes closed and moans long, biting into Dick's fingers, spurting into the hand around his cock.

Dick pulls his fingers out, grabs a paper napkin and wipes his hands. Tim lies in his lap, breathing hard for a minute, scrubbing a hand through his sweaty hair.

And then Tim's *on* him, yanking at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Tim, what--" Dick struggles against Tim's hands grabbing at his pants. When his cockhead peeks above the waistband, Tim bends his head and *engulfs* it.

Dick grabs at the couch, tries to push himself up or buck Tim off or *something*, because Tim's on him and his mouth is wet and sucking and pushing hard to force Dick's shaft down his throat.

"Tim, you don't--hey slow down, that's..."

But Tim hums and yanks at the pants until Dick lifts enough to push them down. Tim is *good* at this and he looks up at Dick now and then with a dark kind of hunger and a determination and Dick knows, he *knows* Tim isn't going to stop.

Tim wraps a hand around the base, sucks and hums and licks until Dick's head is lolling back against the couch, and all he can feel is that *mouth* on him...

"Tim, pull off *now*--"

Tim squeezes and jacks him harder and Dick comes in that warm wetness, biting his lip but moaning anyway. He hears Tim coughing a little, and feels him crawl up Dick's body to settle in his lap.

Tim nuzzles his neck, and Dick puts his arms around him. "Where did *that* come from?"

Tim nibbles his ear. "You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too. With the petting."

"You *flopped* on me."

"*You* told me to relax."

"*That's* your idea of relaxing?"

Tim gives him a pleased look. "I'm relaxed."

"Can't argue there."

Tim is a world-class nuzzler. "I'm not going home tonight."

"No, you're not."

"I'm sleeping with you."

"Tim, I--"

"Sharing-the-bed definition of sleeping with you."

"Just checking. But I hog the covers."

"I *knew* you were too good to be true."

Dick cups Tim's face in both hands, stroking the cheekbones where the mask usually rests with his thumbs, kissing him slowly, letting his mouth blossom against Tim's.

Dick decides to make movie night a weekly event. Maybe even twice a week.

He is definitely going to make Tim watch every movie Sylvester Stallone ever made. Okay, maybe not "Copland."

Dick pushes off the couch and carries Tim to bed.
 

~end