The night was blissfully balmy. A gentle breeze drifted through the partially open window, cooling the air across the sleeping figure.
Dick Grayson; aka Nightwing, stood in the shadows silently, watching the figure toss and turn in the bed.
How many times over the years had he crept into this room to watch Bruce Wayne sleep? There was something almost comforting about being here again, at Wayne Manor... in Bruce's bedroom, even though the motivating force was a little different this time.
Dick had left, thrown away his mantle as Robin and at the time he believed that he'd left behind the troubling feelings he'd fought for years too.
But, as such feeling often do, they'd just hidden away while the excitement of becoming 'Nightwing' was fresh and he'd attempted to extinguish them with a string of failed romances.
Then he'd returned. Pulled back into the 'Bat' world by the strongest force of all; his love for Bruce Wayne.
Oh he 'worshipped' the 'Batman', envied him his power and courage, always believing that he could never live up to Batman's expectations. But the true passion he felt; he- Dick Grayson- was exclusively for Bruce.
<I still feel like a boy when I stand here,> Dick mused as a familiar chill ran through his belly, <I remember the first time I felt this, I didn't even know what it was then. But now I do.>
Something inexorable and nameless pulled Dick forward, just a little closer, just close enough to see the sleeping man's face.
<What am I doing?> he thought nervously, <What the hell was I thinking coming here?> But still he moved forward.
One tentative footstep, silent and unsure would be enough.
"Dick?" a voice said suddenly.
With a yelp, Dick almost fell backwards.
"Is anything wrong?" Bruce's voice was so calm and steady.
"Then what brings you here?" A question that was neither accusing nor angry.
"I...I...I was just passing..." Dick cringed as the words spilled from his lips.
<Oh way to *go* Grayson! How many kinds of *jerk* can you be again? It's two a.m and you're standing in the guys bedroom in the dark for God's sake!> he pushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes with trembling hands, <Oh hell, I feel like a stalker!>
"Oh, I see."
If he hadn't known better, Dick would swear that he heard amusement in Bruce's voice, "How...how was the meeting?" he asked as casually as he could.
"The meeting?" Bruce replied a little puzled, "Oh, the finance meeting, it went well."
Thoughts tumbled over each other as Dick tried to think of an explanation for being here. But instead, he just stood, moving nervously from foot to foot.
"Was there something you wanted to say, Dick?" Bruce asked finally and Dick was suddenly hurtled back to being fifteen years old again. Bruce Wayne had always approached an awkward situation by asking questions, throwing the ball back into someone else's court.
Bruce pushed himself up into a sitting position. The sheet slid down his smooth, muscular, naked chest to pool in his lap. He was always so uninhibited about his body and Dick envied him that. Bruce was never one to flaunt his physique, it was merely a 'fact' that he was a large, powerfully built man and he kept himself in good shape.
But right now, that slab of sweat-slicked muscle glistening in the moonlight was turning Dick Grayson into a mumbling fool.
"Something must be troubling you, Dick. Why don't you sit down and we can discuss it?"
"What? No, there's nothing..."
"Yeah, no...nothing...no problem. I'll...I'll be off to bed now!" Dick waved his hands nervously in the air and cursed the fact that he was babbling like an idiot and his voice had developed a definite 'squeak'.
"You don't live here anymore."
Mouth dropping open, Dick glanced around the room. "Oh, sorry."
"I didn't ask for an apology, it was just a statement of fact. You're always welcome here, I'm sure you know that. This is still your home." Bruce's voice had softened slightly and held an almost wistful tone.
"Yeah, I know that and I appreciate it."
"But I still find it hard to believe that you were out in your Nightwing costume just 'hanging around' and happened to fall through my window for no reason?"
"I just wanted to see you."
"And there's a problem with the door?"
"No. At least I don't think so since I didn't use it." Dick gave a short snorty giggle and immediately clamped down on it.
"Dick, I'm not trying to admonish you for any real or imagined transgressions. I'd just really like to know what you're doing in my bedroom at two a.m."
"Sit down Dick, you look like the school bully brought up in front of the Principal," Bruce almost smiled and gestured to the foot of the bed.
At last Dick sat down, the old struggle of being given orders only to disobey then begrudgingly comply still fresh in his mind. "I didn't mean to disturb you Bruce, like I say...I just wanted to see you. I kind of--miss you sometimes."
With a now perceptible smile, Bruce nodded slowly, "That's nice. I miss you too, Dick."
Caught unawares, Dick found himself choking as the gasp tickled his throat, "You do?" he spluttered.
Two heavy thumps to the younger man's back cleared his airway, "Yes of course I do."
"What made you ever think differently?"
"Well, we haven't always been on the best of terms, have we?"
"Not getting along together occasionally doesn't mean that I didn't always love you, Dick."
<He said it! He used the 'L' word. He must be sleep deprived.> "Really?"
"Of course. I was always proud of the boy and now I'm proud of the man I see before me. No amount of 'fighting' will change that."
Stunned into a temporary silence by such easy admissions of pride and love, Dick sat for a moment, just staring, "Bruce?" he said at last.
"When you say..." Dick struggled with the words but they refused to come. That cowardly part of him that didn't want to hear how the 'love' Bruce felt was that of a father to his son was screaming for him to stop.
"When I say what?" Bruce was now staring intently, his face as usual impassive and unreadable, but still Bruce. The 'Bat' hadn't closed in and the emotions hadn't yet been firmly locked away.
"Yes it does. What do you want to say, Dick? You don't usually have a problem expressing yourself." There it was, the tiniest smile turning up the corners of the older man's mouth.
Taking a huge, gulping breath Dick decided to go for it. He wasn't 'young Robin' any more, that mantle had passed on. He wasn't even Bruce's 'ward'. He was Dick Grayson and his own man. "When you say 'love', what do you mean?"
Unruffled and annoyingly calm, Bruce pursed his lips and thought a moment, "Why, what do you think I mean?"
"Oh Bruce, don't do this! Just for once answer the damned question...with an *answer* not another question. Did I *ever* tell you how irritating it is when you do that?" Dick bounced from the bed and began to pace.
"Yes actually, you did. More than once I seem to remember."
"Well, I just told you again!"
"So I see."
"And you're still avoiding the question. I knew this was a mistake..."
"You asked if I love you? Yes I do, I didn't think there was ever any doubt to that."
"Oh yeah? I'm little Richard Grayson who needs big, strong Bruce Wayne to protect him...yeah I hear you." Dick headed for the window angrily.
"Dick Grayson, don't you dare believe that you can speak for me and tell *me* what I think or feel. And if you're going to storm out of my bedroom in the middle of the night, have the decency to use the damned door!"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Dick rooted to the spot, still facing away from the bed.
"If you'd simply asked me if I love you, I would have answered 'yes'. If you'd asked if I love you like a father? Again, it would be easy to say 'yes'. When you lived here as my ward, I did love you like a father. But if you'd been man enough to face me and say what you meant in the beginning; do I love you in a 'sexual' way?' I could have put you out of your misery before we were reduced to shouting at each other again."
Dick closed his eyes and bit down on his lip, "Well *do* you?"
Suddenly hands slipped onto Dick's shoulders, fingers squeezing gently, "Yes." Bruce whispered softly. He had risen from the bed and moved across the room almost silently, "I would never have pursued my interest in you as anything but my friend if you had shown no signs of returning the feelings. I am not a man who finds it easy to show emotional attachment..."
"No shit?" Dick laughed lightly.
"'No shit'," the almost chuckle in Bruce's reply made Dick turn to face him.
"Bruce, I'm sorry I did it this way, I just sometimes *have* to see you, it's like a compulsion."
"So you regularly break into my house and stand in my bedroom in the dark?"
"Okay, I don't do that *very* often, but...hey, are you teasing me?" Dick gasped as he noted the small grin breaking the usually impenetrable face.
"Yes, " the older man said with a smile. Suddenly a large, strong hand settled gently on Dick's cheek, the thumb rubbing softly across the cheekbone, "You grew up so lovely, Dick, and such a fine man. I'm so terribly proud of everything you've become."
"I'm what you made me."
"No, I might have had a hand in the boy that was my 'Robin', but the man who is Dick Grayson now is very much your own doing. I could never have felt about 'Robin' the way I feel about you."
"You mean it, right?"
"Have I ever lied to you before?"
"Yeah, you told me masturbation made you grow hair in the palms of your hands!" Dick grinned and reached out his hand, bringing it to rest on that very fine chest.
"And how often do you shave your palms these days young Mr. Grayson?"
Smiling, Dick moved in close, sliding his arms around Bruce's chest. Though the older man was slightly taller and more heavily built, Dick was easily as muscular and had youth on his side. Well matched, the two men simply stood in each others arms, enjoying a new kind of closeness.
As if in a dream, Dick stared for a moment. He'd suddenly found himself eye to eye with his wildest dream; Bruce Wayne naked.
A small affirming smile gave Dick the green light and for the first time he touched his lips to Bruce's, tentatively at first, then more passionately.
His tongue pushed, begging for entry while desperate hands clutched at hard muscular arms.
It felt to Dick like someone unleashing a caged animal. All those years worth of pent up desire spewed out, dizzying, breathtaking and primal. Bruce was kissing him hard. No gentle caress and tentative fumbling, nothing but raw male need pushed the two men backwards to the bed. Two huge hands gripped Dick's face holding him tightly in the harsh kiss.
"Bruce?" the breathless voice almost squeaked.
With possibly the widest smile Dick Grayson had ever seen on Bruce's face, the older man rested his head against Dick's forehead gently, "Yes, Dick. You can stay."
"Uh!" Dick gave a strangled cry as suddenly a hand cupped his heavy cock. Even through the fabric of his costume, the sensation was electric, "Oh...Bruce!"
Before Dick could begin his tirade of questions again, Bruce began to stroke him in earnest, his lips matching the rhythm against the young man's neck. Tender kisses placed lovingly between harder biting ones, the twin sensation was more than a seriously horny young man could take.
"Oh...no...shit!" Dick gasped as he came, "Oh no, Bruce...I'm sorry!"
"It's okay, Dick. That might slow you down a little, give an old man time to catch up."
Agape, Dick looked on as Bruce began to work free the Nightwing costume, "Oh hell, Bruce. I'll never get the stain out of this thing!"
"Hmm, messy. Remind me to loan you some clothes in the morning."
"Bastard! You did that on purpose!"
Pulling the clinging costume from his companion, Bruce reached around Dick's neck and pulled out the band that kept his long hair in a tidy ponytail. "I like that you grew your hair."
"Yes, it suits you." Bruce ran his fingers through the silky black strands as they fell forward to frame the strong jaw and high cheekbones of the younger man.
"I always thought you wouldn't approve," Dick's voice belied a hint of humor.
"And that's why you grew it?"
"No! Well...no, not really."
"You were always a poor liar, Dick," Bruce shook his head but a smile played on his lips.
Shrugging Dick took the hand that just freed his hair, slipping the fingers into his mouth and sucking each one individually, "But I make up for my failings in other ways," he purred, feeling a chill run through the other man.
Pushing Bruce back onto the bed, a now stripped Dick Grayson followed him, climbing onto the huge four-poster bed; it was resplendent in its carved majesty and like the master of this fine old house, deceptively severe in its design, but the two men sank into it gratefully.
Dick blanketed Bruce, taking over the seduction, needing to be Bruce's equal in this as everything else. Gently he parted Bruce's legs with his knee, the older man's foot hooking around his waist, pulling him closer. He was already hardening again, the familiar buzz ricocheting around his body before settling in his groin with a delicious warmth.
A part of Dick was surprised when Bruce not only capitulated to his advances but with seemingly knowing familiarity.
<Bruce Wayne, you old dog...you've done this before!> he thought with stunned disbelief.
Wordlessly, Bruce reached across and took a bottle from the bedside table. Handing it to Dick he nodded and kissed him, giving over all the power he possessed in one simple action.
"You sure?" Dick gasped.
Using the sweet, oily cream Dick massaged his heavy and almost painfully hard cock until he could barely withstand his own touch. Gently he stroked Bruce, searching for that sweet, tight center.
Bruce sucked in a breath as Dick slipped in a well-lubricated finger, but it was the soft, warm lips encircling his cock that made the quiet and sometimes overly reserved man groan with unadulterated pleasure.
Bruce's fingers grasped at Dick's head, fingers tightening in his flowing hair, which now swept across Bruce's belly, its touch like fire on the sensitive skin. Dick suddenly let his lips slide from the surface of the pulsating cock, Bruce shuddered, mourning the loss of sensation.
In one easy thrust Dick slid into Bruce, the older man guiding him, encouraging him. He so badly wanted this to last, to be a long, slow loving. But his body had other ideas, the thrill of being sheathed inside Bruce had set his blood racing, he could hear it pumping through his veins, rushing headlong into his cock, filling his partner. Dick began to move; fast and urgent. Bruce was pushing him, egging him on, kissing him roughly.
With a cry, Dick came deep inside Bruce, the older man shouted his release at the same moment spewing out his seed between them.
Unable to move, Dick rested against Bruce's chest, the sticky evidence of their passion setting them together like glue. "I'm glad I don't have a hairy chest," Dick slurred the words and giggled like a schoolboy.
With a deep rumble of the chest, Bruce laughed and pulled a pillowcase from the pillow, wiping them both clean.
"What *shall* I tell Alfred happened there?" he muttered before throwing it to the floor and gathering Dick back into his arms.
"Hmmmmm, 'wow' indeed."
Eyes flickering open, Dick Grayson took a few moments to work out where he was. Ah yes, Bruce Wayne's bed, where else?
Turning his head he saw the delicious sight of Bruce, face down an arm slung across his bed-mate still sleeping softly.
A feeling of immense self-satisfaction and quiet fulfilment settled over Dick and he gripped the arm that lay across his chest with the territorial smugness of a jungle cat.
Bruce Wayne was *his*.
Suddenly he felt Bruce stir slightly. "Hey!"
"Good morning Dick," the older man's muffled voice mumbled.
"I really should go."
"Yeah. Can I borrow some clothes?"
"Mmmm, you know where everything is."
Dick rolled onto his side and slid his hand lovingly over the well-muscled ass of his sleepy companion. "I really have to go. How about I make you dinner tonight at my place?"
Bruce's head turned to face him and weary eyes opened. "You...cook?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty good!"
"At your apartment?"
"You did deal with the vermin problem, didn't you Dick?"
"Yes, Bruce. I dealt with the vermin problem. Now stop sounding like my father and just agree that you'll come?" Dick slipped his finger into the crack of Bruce's ass, causing the older man to catch his breath, "I'll make it worth your while?"
"Yes, very well."
Leaning over, Dick kissed his companion and grinned, "Okay, tonight about eight?"
Bounding from the bed with renewed vigor, the younger man scuttled over to the drawers and pulled out some pants and a shirt. "You like Italian food, don't you Bruce? I remember that Alfred used to do that incredible lasagna..." Pulling on the shirt, he lifted his long dark hair from out of the collar and shook it loose, totally oblivious of the longing glance Bruce shot him. "And I'll get wine...don't worry, I'll get the good stuff not the cheap and cheerful garbage I usually get for my dates. Oh wow...'date'," Dick laughed to himself, "I never thought of you as a 'date' before!"
Standing by the window, the sun now blazing into the room, Dick smiled, "I feel fantastic today, Bruce. I really love you, you know?"
"Yes Dick, I know," the older man smiled.
"Okay, tonight then. Gotta go."
Turning, Dick Grayson waited for the next words with bated breath, "Yeah?"
"Use the door?"