No Clap of Thunder

by Weirdness Magnet
July 4, 2004

Disclaimers: They belong to DC.  I'll put them back when I'm done.

Summary: Dick makes his intentions known. 

Spoilers: None.  Takes place sometime before Tim's 16th birthday.

Ratings Note/Warnings: NC-17.  Borders on non-con, so be warned.

Author's Note: The title is from Sir William Temple (1628-1699) who once said, "No clap of thunder in a fair frosty day could more astonish the world than our declaration of war against Holland in 1672."

Acknowledgments: Te was my Random Porn Generator.  She provided me with "Tim/Dick... /... in a story with the line 'I don't think we should.'"  This is the result.

**

Tim predicted Dick would show up at the mansion eventually.

Batman and Robin have been overworked lately, and Tim hasn't made it to Bludhaven in two weeks. The recent heat wave has baked the sense out of everyone's brains, including Gotham's criminal element. Nightwing has had his own hands full, but Bruce is at a society party tonight so it wasn't surprising at all to hear the sound of Dick's motorcycle.

Even less surprising when their kiss hello turns into something more intensive and Dick half-drags, half-carries Tim through the mansion's halls.  Dick must be in one of *those* moods tonight, which explains the burning behind his eyes and how hard the man is inside his jeans.  It's been a long two weeks, so Tim just closes his eyes and hangs on, letting Dick kiss him as hard as he needs to.  Dick pulls him through the dark hallways until Tim's back hits a doorframe.

Tim *is* surprised when he realizes where Dick has brought him.

Bruce's bedroom is massive, even by mansion standards. Huge windows shielded by heavy drapes and an entire wall engulfed by a fireplace framed with a scrollwork mantel.

And the bed. Tim can't forget or ignore the dark wood canopied monstrosity taking up more than its share of the square footage. The dark satin comforter just makes the bed look bigger, slightly threatening with its shiny softness.

A big room filled with proportionally big things. There are no knickknacks or pictures, nothing to give the room warmth or familiarity or a hint of the person who sleeps there.  That has its own kind of logic. The man doesn't sleep much, and the Bat doesn't keep mementos.  Not in a bedroom, anyway.

Dick tugs Tim's hand, dragging him into the chamber. "C'mon."

Tim shows his reluctance by making Dick *pull* him inside. This isn't... they shouldn't *be* here. There's nothing personal at all about the room, so this isn't a violation of Bruce's sacred space, but they don't come in here. It's a rule written down somewhere, Tim is sure.

Tim struggles when Dick turns him around and shoves him down on the bed.  He has to work not to moan when Dick bites his neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. He grasps Dick's shoulders and doesn't quite succeed and pushing him off. "Dick, don't. We... I don't think we should."

"Hmm?" Dick's hand is up his shirt, scraping at the longest scar on Tim's back.

 "We shouldn't be in here."

Dick actually snorts against his neck. It's a hot puff of air near his ear and Tim bites his lip to keep from making noise. Dick's fingers have found their way to his nipple, gently pinching and Tim *does* moan, and Dick just laughs against his neck and grinds him down into the mattress.

"Bruce will be out for hours. Charity fundraisers take forever. Believe me, I went to my share."

"But--" Chokes out a gasp when Dick shoves his shirts up and starts sucking on his nipple in earnest. "He--he'll *know*." That we've been here, he can't manage to say. That we had sex on his bed. That we're *having* sex. None of which are technically Supposed to Be Happening.  He can't manage to get any of that out with Dick shoving his hand down the back of Tim's jeans.

Fingers probing his cleft and Tim can't stop his hips from *moving* beneath Dick, and Dick is just smirking and sucking Tim's nipple almost hard enough to bruise before letting go to soothe the skin with gentle laps of his tongue. He alternates between sucking and licking until Tim's hand is *digging* into Dick's scalp, holding him in, and the fingers in his pants are teasing his hole to the point that however bad an idea this may be, he's rapidly losing the will to make Dick *stop*.
 

Dick's look is glittering, triumph around the edges of his smirk. It causes a small well of panic in Tim's chest.  He's got to *move* or they're going to do... well, a lot, on Bruce's bed, and that's just *wrong*. He's got to get them... somewhere else, and the thick rug in front of the fireplace would do fine, and he can push Dick off if he can just get his hand...

...pinned to the bed, and Dick has *all* his weight on Tim. He's braced over him, his look dark and calculating.

"Going somewhere?"

"Dick," Tim works to get the Voice back. "We can't do this here. Not here."

"What, the bed not big enough for you?" Dick's tone is light, but his eyes are *not*.

"You know what I mean."

Dick holds Tim's wrists in one hand, reaches down and jerks Tim's fly open with the other. He yanks the jeans and shorts down enough to expose Tim's blood-dark cock, glistening at the tip.

"You're afraid he'll know that we've been here. That *you've* been here."

"Dick..." It's more of a plea than he meant, but Dick's finger swirls around the head of his cock so delicately he can't keep his voice steady.

Dick pumps his shaft a few times, making Tim groan and making him pulse more pre-come. "What?" Dick purrs. "You afraid of staining his sheets?"

Tim flexes his hands in Dick's grasp. "Dick, don't..."

"Why? Doesn't it feel good?" Dick grazes his teeth against Tim's cheek. "You feel like you like it. You're awfully hard..."

Tim's cock flexes in Dick's grasp. Dick squeezes it hard enough to slow down the orgasm that had started to build before stroking him again. Tim's cock gets shinier, wetter, and Dick spreads the wetness over the length until Tim is slick and biting his lip, fighting the need to come.

Not here. He can't come *here*.

Dick tugs Tim's pants down his thighs and opens his own pants one-handed. He pushes his shorts down enough to free himself before grabbing Tim's hip and swiftly rolling him onto his stomach. Dick is *on* him, on his back and Tim's wrists are trapped in his large hand, and Dick is *grinding* against Tim's ass. Dick pushes him into the comforter, making him rub his cock against the satin. It's so *soft* on him, smooth and it feels good until he remembers he was *slick* with pre-come and Dick is making him spread it all over the comforter.

Staining it. Oh *fuck*.

Dick's breath chuffs against his ear. "Doesn't that feel good on you?"

"Oh god, *don't*," Tim breathes against the satin.

He can feel the naked cock sliding back and forth in his cleft. "Am I going to have to tie you down?"

Tim whimpers into the mattress when his cock jerks at the thought. "No..."

"I think I should. Tie you down so I can lick you. I love making you come that way, just with my tongue in your ass. You're so *hot* there, god, the noises you make..."

"*Dick*..."  Tim can't help but imagine himself tethered to the headboard, Dick tonguing him and Tim's come darkening the satin. He bites his lip and tries to breathe, tries to fight his hips to stillness, but Dick is relentless, sliding against Tim's ass and pushing him into the softness of the bed, each thrust caressing his cock.

"You're going to come," Dick whispers. "So do you want me to tongue you, or do you want me to fuck you?"

Tim squeezes his eyes shut and flexes his hands in Dick's iron grip. "Fuck me."

"What do we say?"

Tim bites his lip. "Fuck me, *please*."

He hears the flick of a plastic cap, liquid sound of Dick rubbing the slick on himself before pouring a generous dollop on Tim's ass. Dick uses two fingers to spread it around and *in*, and he's not being gentle, shoving his fingers in to make Tim grind his hips on the bedspread. He buries his face into the satin to stifle the moan. Tim can smell Bruce in the bedding, his skin and a hint of the aftershave he wore tonight, the one Tim gave him last Christmas that he's worn almost constantly since.

He whines sharply when he feels the head push in. Steady pressure and Dick starts thrusting immediately, deeper each time. Tim grits his teeth and breathes through the burn, focusing on Bruce's scent, until Dick gets a hand around Tim's cock and starts to pump him. Tight fist and calluses rubbing and nothing at all like the satin, and this, *this* is going to make him come.

Ragged rhythm in his ass, and Dick tilts his pelvis and hits Tim's prostate on the next thrust, and this is *designed* to get him off. He's moaning constantly into the bed, hands pinned, ass rising to meet every thrust and fucking Dick's fist, and Dick panting, "So good, you feel... don't fight it, that's it, you need to come so hard..."

The hand jacks him faster, harder, and Tim has no choice but to whine and come, sound of it pattering on the shiny fabric. His body clenches and shudders so hard he doesn't realize Dick has stilled on top of him until he feels the wetness trickling down his thighs.

Dick rolls off with a groan and lies next to him, breathing hard. Tim just lies with his face pressed against the mattress and tries to find Bruce's scent. The bedspread smells like sex, and nothing like Bruce. It makes something *clench* in Tim's chest.

He closes his eyes when Dick brushes his hair out of his face. "Hey. You okay?"  Dick's voice is a breathy pant.

"He's going to know."

"I know. I want him to."

Tim turns his head. "You could've just, I don't know, *told* him. There didn't have to be..." Defilement, Tim thinks. This bed wasn't a temple or a holy shrine, but it used to smell like Bruce and now it doesn't.

"I was in the cave that night.  I saw how he touched you."

"You were..."  Tim blinks as he flips through his memory.  The last time Bruce touched him that wasn't practice or setting a broken bone was a week ago.  They'd run into Ivy and Harley, and afterwards... "He put his hand on my shoulder."

"And said he was proud of you." 

"It was a rough patrol that night."

Dick traces patterns on the comforter with a finger.  "That's how he started with me, too, right before I turned sixteen.  He went from almost never touching me to patting me on the back and almost *smiling* a couple of times."  Dick looks at him evenly. "Your sixteenth birthday's in a couple of months."

Tim doesn't actually know what to say to that.  "Dick."

"He'll never force you.  He'll give you a choice.  I'm just not giving *him* one."  Dick lightly threads his fingers in Tim's hair.  "I don't want there to be any question in his mind."

"What, that we're already sleeping together?" Tim mutters into the bed.

Dick shoves Tim until he rolls onto his back. His eyes are hard and determined and fiery in a way Tim doesn't recognize.

"That you're already *mine*."

Dick's mouth is hard on Tim's, teeth nipping at his lip the way he likes. The wet spot he's laying on is already cold.

Dick breaks off the kiss and rises. He holds out his hand and gives Tim another smirk and a glittering look.

"C'mon. We haven't done it on the rug yet."

Tim swallows hard. He always thought declarations of war were eloquently written documents scrawled on parchment with quills, and not a stained satin duvet.

He swallows once, hard, and takes Dick's hand.