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hh_mirror2006-04-21 06:55 am
dice-addict.livejournal.com) wrote in hh_mirror2006-04-21 06:55 am
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Nightwing, Ryuuji, part three.
Pleasedon'tkillmeIswearI'mnotspamming. Anyway. Part three of Nightwing and Ryuuji after the masquerade, still contains male/male sex, continued from here.
The Gryffindor let out a howl, thrashing helplessly against the shadows binding him to the ground, his body's fight or flight instinct warring with desire, tearing him apart, making it feel even better. Unable to brace himself, each thrust made his own body shake, sending an electric fire of pain and heat and perfection sweeping over every atom in his body, making him moan like a trapped animal, head lolling helplessly, cracking a little too hard on the floor and adding to the spots already dancing in his eyes.
His panting breath pounded in his ears, making a symphony with the ringing echoes (Ryuuji hadn't said it loudly, Dick was sure of it, but the memory of the sound dominated his brain like a 12 piece brass band) of the warning. Promise, and fuck but Ryuuji certainly was keeping it.
"Fu- fuck - yes," Dick's voice was almost a sob, loud enough that if he had been able to care he would have worried that the sound was going to carry and wake someone up, not that he hadn't been plenty noisy already,
"like that just like that harder please harder harder tear me open wanna feel you in me, fuck me." Even for him pushing his legs further apart hurt, but he did it anyway, relishing the angry burn of stretched muscle tissue.
Dizzily, he felt the beginnings of a white-hot wave (he had looked it up once, and found out orgasms were muscular contractions, but found it hard to believe – they seemed more like raw paradise), but fought it off, determined to make this last. His cock throbbed for attention, adding to the cacophony of sensation overcharging his brain, turning his blood to fire and his muscles into raw tools to be abused and pulled and torn carelessly. Every fresh burst of pain felt like the most incredible, perfect, awe inspiring thing imaginable.
But there was one thing missing: more of Ryuuji's sexy fucking voice, keying Dick's nerves up to a fever pitch. Perhaps, his few overtaxed functioning brain cells suggested, he could tempt it out (completely irrationally, the mental image of himself with an Elmur Fudd hat on, hunting down Ryuuji as Bugs Bunny, sprang to mind) by talking himself. Mmm, dirty talk. "God, fuck me, wanna be your whore, just yours – oh, fuck, yes."
Never let it be said that Ryuuji couldn't take a hint. Except this wasn't a hint, because Nightwing was practically begging for it (fuck that, he was begging, and Ryuuji couldn't help but respond, and if he hadn't prepped Nightwing, Nightwing would be bleeding by now and it would be hurting Ryuuji - so tight!) and Ryuuji felt Nightwing's words like fingers, like teeth and tongue and everything. Him inside Nightwing, Nightwing's words slamming into his minds, pleas and begging and fuck, blood rush, liquid heat lacing over his skin, words soaking into his blood, and -
He really ought to return the favor. Because that would make things fair, and fair was good, and Nightwing was good and- No, Nightwing was excellent. Mindblowing. Though that wasn't the bit he'd been blowing, and Ryuuji was pretty sure that pun-making was contagious because why else would he be thinking of something like that during sex? Puns as a sexually transmitted disease except he'd been making them before, so maybe it was a UST-transmitted disease?
And Nightwing was so fucking gorgeous, legs stretched up so that the muscles were flexed, standing out, tight and hot and wanton. And Ryuuji still had enough presence of mind to string words together (funny that being sucked off had destroyed his ability to speak but that he could fuck Nightwing and still talk), even if he wasn't so hot on the actual breath issues.
Slam in, withdraw, and the words spilled out between thrusts, deadly sharp and hone, like Ryuuji wanted them to hurt (but the glitter in his eyes belied that, gold and green sparks smeared over his body, over Nightwing and Ryuuji couldn't resist the temptation to make his own glitter spark with magic, energy pinpricks suddenly lighting up all over Nightwing). "My whore, because that's what you're acting like - begging and writhing and wanton and I want to fuck you so hard that you'll remember it for days, I want to hurt you so that if you can sit down without feeling it, that's a sign to drag you out of class and do it all over again. Make you so sore that you can't spar without changing your style, muscles strained, tendons ripped and everything hurting in the good way, where it's not painful but intense and-"
Ryuuji reached down to stroke Nightwing's cock, hot and hard and thick, leaking at the tip and changed angles, harder and deeper, no longer in any rhythm but arhythmic and wild, his voice softer now, strained silk pulled tightly over a gun barrel, where you were just waiting for it to rip rawly, "Because of me." And nobody else.
"Your whore," Dick agreed, breathless, sweating, big blue eyes (really too pretty for someone so generally masculine, girlish long lashes fluttering urgently) wide and shocky and dark with want. "I'll remember, I'll remember, I'll never forget how this feels and oh, fuck, I'm your whore, I'll let you do anything, anything you want, anything at all. Just – oh god oh god oh god – just fuck me, make me your plaything, wanna –" if he didn't stop talking, he was going to lose his tiny tiny grasp on concentration and come, and some irrational part of his brain wanted Ryuuji to come first to assuage his wounded pride over losing it so quickly earlier.
Instead, he concentrated on the motions, jarring his elbows into the carpet enough to give his body some purchase, so he could move with the thrusts, in time, hips slanting and sliding and wriggling. It felt like his brains were jarring loose, and his willpower and reason with them. He was certain the feeling of flesh against flesh, the slide and thump of their bodies together, was going to break him into a thousand tiny pieces, a million, nothing left of him but a pile of dust and a bottomless hunger he wasn't sure could ever be filled.
And sweet christ, Ryuuji's hand on his cock, and it would be a miracle if he didn't shatter like glass right there, even moreso at the amazing sound of the other's silky voice, full of promise and pain and why the hell had he resisted doing this for so long?!
His head banged painfully on the floor, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, making him give an inarticulate keening moan of pleasure and pain, a little crimson trail slithering down the side of his mouth.
Some part of Ryuuji noted the 'wanna' because it was what Nightwing used, and he was used to hearing it, but it sounded so different during sex, so much rawer and needing, less controlled and trusting. And Nightwing was moving back against him, and Ryuuji panted, open-mouthed, eyes widening because - because overload-too-much-too-tight-everything. It was a feeling of golden curling liquid in the pit of his stomach, harsh, jarring pain stabbing at his spine, and the sound of Nightwing's keening pained-pleased moan. And blood. Fuck. Nightwing was bleeding and Ryuuji really shouldn't have found that erotic but he did, and he slammed in harder, like he wanted to break Nightwing in half and desperately pressed down over the other just long enough to lick at the lttle trail of blood.
"Tasty. I think I want to make you bleed more. Tie you down and cut you up, marks that won't scar because they're not meant for anyone else to see, just for you to feel, soap stinging them in the shower, disinfected everytime you change the bandages. And they'll be there, and I'll know it, and you'll know it, and I'll hold you with my fingers curled over them, and press and nobody except for the two of us would know why such a gentle touch could make you wince like that." And the words (blood) were (was) metallic-sweet in his mouth, and Ryuuji withdrew and thrust in again, and he could taste the blood over everything else he'd had in his mouth, and his eyes glittered and power sparked and - and- and- break open. And this time, the force of his release twisted and changed as power surged with him, spilling over Nightwing, crackling, exploring tendrils of green that webbed over his body, sank into his skin, covered and claimed and marked him.
And for days afterwards, Nightwing would be glowing green to anyone with the right type of sight; he'd wear Ryuuji's magic under his skin.
"Ryuuji," came the moan, harsh and hungry and oh fuck oh fuck Dick was trying to control himself, but he couldn't, not anymore, not after the thought of Ryuuji marking him with invisible cuts, oh fuck, and a tongue against his chin lapping up the hot trail of blood, and the other was coming in him, and it was the sexiest fucking thing he'd ever seen, and the feeling of Ryuuji on him, and –
- and oh fuck, there was that magic again, only it felt a little different, a little more possessive, and that was it for him. He let go, burning heat surging into a sneak preview of paradise.
When he finally brought his eyes back into focus, he was still trembling with adrenaline and magic, but could feel it slowly receding into a post-orgasmic haze. "Oh, fuck." Funny how versatile a word could be; half a minute earlier, it had sounded pained and hungry and urgent, and now it was almost sweet.
His mind wanted him to remember that they both had classes in entirely too soon, and he was going to need to do a lot of stretching and applying of bruise cream if he wanted to have semi-regular range of movement tomorrow, and he and Ryuuji probably still had a ton of serious talking they needed to do. His body, on the other hand, just wanted to luxuriate. Mmm, yeah, bitches, his groin seemed to say, that was choice. The rest of him just wanted to know what that delightful tingling sensation was.
Rather a long moment later, Dick worked up the energy to speak. "I'd ask if that was good for you too, but I'm guessing that's a silly question."
Truthfully, with a contentedly tired laugh, Ryuuji told the other, "I can't think of any way it could have been better."
Pause, and he corrected himself, "Unless it had happened sooner." A soft, lazy kiss was nuzzled against the side of Nightwing's neck - sweaty and slightly sticky but smelling like Nightwing, and Ryuuji let himself relax even further, warm, blissful afterglow haze blurring his vision slightly and making his limbs feel too heavy to move.
Except he probably should move. A little. Because right now, Ryuuji was sprawled on top of Nightwing, exhausted - sex was great, energy flux was great and it was utterly awesome to have been able to share that with Nightwing. And Nightwing was still warm, and made a good mattress, even if he was quivering faintly. He ought to at withdraw though. Reluctantly, arms complaining at having to support his own weight again, Ryuuji pushed himself up just enough to pull out of Nightwing, then promptly flopped down on the side of the other again. One arm resting over Nightwing's stomach, fingers splaying themselves out over the other's hipbone instinctively, Ryuuji let himself just bask in the satisfaction of a bout of really, really amazing sex.
And the fun thing about energy-sharing? It tended to mean that sex tired him out enough to let him actually sleep afterwards without any Dreamless Sleep Potion/sleeping pills/whatever the local equivalent was.
And they probably did need to talk, seriously, but right now, Ryuuji couldn't think of anything to say that didn't deal with how much he'd enjoyed that and how good a fuck Nightwing was. And Nightwing was there, warm and sweaty and kinda sticky - could they make it to the shower? Ryuuji's body protested that idea - and talking could wait until the morning. Really.
Reaching up to the bed, Ryuuji grabbed the blanket, and dragged it down to the two of them, draping it over them languidly before grabbing a pillow and raising his head for long enough to slide it underneath, nudging Nightwing's head with it lightly to indicate the other boy should share it. There. Now they didn't even need to climb up onto the bed; they could just sleep. Well, as soon as Nightwing was freed, anyway. A few seconds of concentration had the shadows slip free of Nightwing's arms, letting him move freely once more, and Ryuuji kneaded the muscles of the closest one without being asked to, knowing himself how much you could strain them when trying to get free.
"Mm. Sorry. I'll do better –" the sentence was cracked by a yawn "- next time."
Nightwing really did need a shower, but . . . his body really didn't want to move. It wasn't that the floor was all that comfortable, exactly, but moving required coordination, and also making Ryuuji move with him – he had felt irrationally annoyed at the other even withdrawing - sounded like too much effort for what it was worth. Besides, it was so cozy having the younger man sprawled over him that . . . yeah, he'd deal, until morning, Mmm. He certainly was going to have the best blanket in the school, without a doubt.
Another yawn, and the vigilante shot Ryuuji a sleepy smile, then lifted his head enough to make room for the pillow, taking the opportunity to press a light kiss to the other's lips. "Thanks, babe." Yup, definitely going to zonk out right here, Especially with Ryuuji massaging one of his arms (they both did hurt, but not as badly as they might on someone else; he did very thorough yoga every morning, and it had its helpful ramifications in practically every physical activity.) sending a delicious little tingle to the exhausted flesh. With an effort, Dick dragged his other arm up enough to curl it around the other's waist, then nuzzled his face comfortably into the closest shoulder. Perfect. He could sleep like this until morning.
Which is exactly what he did.
A beeping sound pierced Dick's sleep (he had been dreaming an old and familiar dream about Bruce) and stirred him groggily awake, making complaining little morning noises. Oh. The beeping was his alarm. Huh. He really should have gotten up to turn it off, but he wasn't sure he could, because, uh, body weight on top of him and – hey, whoa, body weight on top of him,
Beeping noise. ARGH. Ryuuji didn't need to dealing with beeping noises, he was trying to sleep. He liked his sleep. A lot. Poutily, he lifted one hand groggily and waved it in the general direction of the alarm clock, sending it to the Shadow Realm the same way that he'd banished his trousers and Nightwing's. Because he was waking up pretty much exactly where he'd fallen asleep, sprawled out over a nice, firm body, and even if he wasn't awake enough to recognize the sound as that of an alarm clock, he knew that it wasn't actually a danger. Nightwing's room, and Nightwing's body, and damnit, he didn't want to be awake.
Sleepily, he nuzzled a kiss against Nightwing's shoulder, and told the other lazily, yawning midword, "Go back to sleep, Risou..." Ryuuji was asleep again by the time he finished the sentence, dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his high cheekbones, full lips curved into a faint, happy smile. Still cuddled against and over him, he let himself slumber, dreaming of gold and green and dragon leather, no plot but just snatches of color and song.
And by the time he woke up, it was already late morning, roughly about eleven or so. Which was when he normally woke up anyway, so Ryuuji was fine with that. Morning sunshine filtered in through the still open window, falling onto his back, and Ryuuji made a soft sound as he woke up, perfectly content to now face the world. Skin golden and soft under the light, Ryuuji stretched out over Nightwing, then smiled down at the other male, waiting to see if Nightwing would wake up and realize he was being stared at.
When the alarm had mysteriously ceased, Dick had meant to open his eyes and see what the hell happened to it, but he was so comfortable and warm! Bruce would have been deeply ashamed of him, but he dozed quite happily off again. Morning routine? Classes? Eh, fuck 'em.
So by the time eleven rolled around, his body was starting to twinge a little at the odd sensation of being late, subconsciously aware that the warm sun on his skin was an aberration from the norm. As was the fact that he was on the floor. Semi-conscious, his brain began to run a few standard procedures: no severe injuries detected (though there were some abnormal twinges in the vicinity of his ass, which was not unheard of but was enough to an aberration to tip a warning flag) not tied up, no medicinal smell, in the presence of another body . . . Oh, his brain concluded, satisfied. He'd gotten laid last night.
Dick might possibly have gone back to sleep yet again – bountiful sleep was a luxury for him – if it weren't for the niggling sensation he was being watched. Also, movement on top of him, hm, definite aberration. He wouldn't have been a vigilante if that didn't trigger an instinctive response.
Groggily, Dick muttered something incoherent, opening his eyes. And shifting immediately into staring at Ryuuji, bemusedly.
"Morning, Risou!" Ryuuji greeted Nightwing cheerfully as soon as the blue eyes locked on his own pure green gaze. Although not usually a morning person early morning, a well-rested Ryuuji was a happy one. And last night had been awesome. Even if Ryuuji wasn't exactly sure how Nightwing would react now, and he wasn't exactly looking forwards to having to talk to Nightwing now.
Brushing that aside for the moment, he nuzzled under the other's chin, dropping a quick kiss on the joint of his neck and shoulder, and then rolled off to the side, sitting up next to Nightwing and trying to disentangle himself from the blankets. Succeeding in doing so, he stood up and stretched like a cat would, pulling both arms over his head and rocking up onto his tiptoes, curling his spine down and then raising up again before dropping down to stand normally. Vivid red gashes scored down his back from Nightwing's blunted nails of last night, and there were bruises starting to form on his hips, shoulders and throat flecked with darkening bitemarks, rust-red against the pale gold of his skin.
They ached somewhat, but in a good way, and Ryuuji didn't bother being bashful about his nakedness as he twisted back to extend a hand to Nightwing, offering the other help in getting up, "It's about eleven now, so I can use Prefect slash staff privileges to get the House Elves to deliver us a brunch - I'll talk to them while you shower. Mind if I borrow some clothes? I could make them out of shadow substance, but then they'd be all dark blue-purple and look way weird on me. Much more noticeable than if I just a grab a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans from you."
Ryuuji, able to wake up after a night of dancing and cuddling and mindblowing sex and still plot for the day ahead with all the aplomb and easy adjustment of someone who did something like that all the time? Well, yes. Compared to the rest of his life, having wedding night magical sex on the floor was practically normal.
...And besides, they could talk over breakfast. Lunch. Brunch.
Even if Ryuuji wasn't looking forwards to that, they would need to talk.
((Next part is here.))
The Gryffindor let out a howl, thrashing helplessly against the shadows binding him to the ground, his body's fight or flight instinct warring with desire, tearing him apart, making it feel even better. Unable to brace himself, each thrust made his own body shake, sending an electric fire of pain and heat and perfection sweeping over every atom in his body, making him moan like a trapped animal, head lolling helplessly, cracking a little too hard on the floor and adding to the spots already dancing in his eyes.
His panting breath pounded in his ears, making a symphony with the ringing echoes (Ryuuji hadn't said it loudly, Dick was sure of it, but the memory of the sound dominated his brain like a 12 piece brass band) of the warning. Promise, and fuck but Ryuuji certainly was keeping it.
"Fu- fuck - yes," Dick's voice was almost a sob, loud enough that if he had been able to care he would have worried that the sound was going to carry and wake someone up, not that he hadn't been plenty noisy already,
"like that just like that harder please harder harder tear me open wanna feel you in me, fuck me." Even for him pushing his legs further apart hurt, but he did it anyway, relishing the angry burn of stretched muscle tissue.
Dizzily, he felt the beginnings of a white-hot wave (he had looked it up once, and found out orgasms were muscular contractions, but found it hard to believe – they seemed more like raw paradise), but fought it off, determined to make this last. His cock throbbed for attention, adding to the cacophony of sensation overcharging his brain, turning his blood to fire and his muscles into raw tools to be abused and pulled and torn carelessly. Every fresh burst of pain felt like the most incredible, perfect, awe inspiring thing imaginable.
But there was one thing missing: more of Ryuuji's sexy fucking voice, keying Dick's nerves up to a fever pitch. Perhaps, his few overtaxed functioning brain cells suggested, he could tempt it out (completely irrationally, the mental image of himself with an Elmur Fudd hat on, hunting down Ryuuji as Bugs Bunny, sprang to mind) by talking himself. Mmm, dirty talk. "God, fuck me, wanna be your whore, just yours – oh, fuck, yes."
Never let it be said that Ryuuji couldn't take a hint. Except this wasn't a hint, because Nightwing was practically begging for it (fuck that, he was begging, and Ryuuji couldn't help but respond, and if he hadn't prepped Nightwing, Nightwing would be bleeding by now and it would be hurting Ryuuji - so tight!) and Ryuuji felt Nightwing's words like fingers, like teeth and tongue and everything. Him inside Nightwing, Nightwing's words slamming into his minds, pleas and begging and fuck, blood rush, liquid heat lacing over his skin, words soaking into his blood, and -
He really ought to return the favor. Because that would make things fair, and fair was good, and Nightwing was good and- No, Nightwing was excellent. Mindblowing. Though that wasn't the bit he'd been blowing, and Ryuuji was pretty sure that pun-making was contagious because why else would he be thinking of something like that during sex? Puns as a sexually transmitted disease except he'd been making them before, so maybe it was a UST-transmitted disease?
And Nightwing was so fucking gorgeous, legs stretched up so that the muscles were flexed, standing out, tight and hot and wanton. And Ryuuji still had enough presence of mind to string words together (funny that being sucked off had destroyed his ability to speak but that he could fuck Nightwing and still talk), even if he wasn't so hot on the actual breath issues.
Slam in, withdraw, and the words spilled out between thrusts, deadly sharp and hone, like Ryuuji wanted them to hurt (but the glitter in his eyes belied that, gold and green sparks smeared over his body, over Nightwing and Ryuuji couldn't resist the temptation to make his own glitter spark with magic, energy pinpricks suddenly lighting up all over Nightwing). "My whore, because that's what you're acting like - begging and writhing and wanton and I want to fuck you so hard that you'll remember it for days, I want to hurt you so that if you can sit down without feeling it, that's a sign to drag you out of class and do it all over again. Make you so sore that you can't spar without changing your style, muscles strained, tendons ripped and everything hurting in the good way, where it's not painful but intense and-"
Ryuuji reached down to stroke Nightwing's cock, hot and hard and thick, leaking at the tip and changed angles, harder and deeper, no longer in any rhythm but arhythmic and wild, his voice softer now, strained silk pulled tightly over a gun barrel, where you were just waiting for it to rip rawly, "Because of me." And nobody else.
"Your whore," Dick agreed, breathless, sweating, big blue eyes (really too pretty for someone so generally masculine, girlish long lashes fluttering urgently) wide and shocky and dark with want. "I'll remember, I'll remember, I'll never forget how this feels and oh, fuck, I'm your whore, I'll let you do anything, anything you want, anything at all. Just – oh god oh god oh god – just fuck me, make me your plaything, wanna –" if he didn't stop talking, he was going to lose his tiny tiny grasp on concentration and come, and some irrational part of his brain wanted Ryuuji to come first to assuage his wounded pride over losing it so quickly earlier.
Instead, he concentrated on the motions, jarring his elbows into the carpet enough to give his body some purchase, so he could move with the thrusts, in time, hips slanting and sliding and wriggling. It felt like his brains were jarring loose, and his willpower and reason with them. He was certain the feeling of flesh against flesh, the slide and thump of their bodies together, was going to break him into a thousand tiny pieces, a million, nothing left of him but a pile of dust and a bottomless hunger he wasn't sure could ever be filled.
And sweet christ, Ryuuji's hand on his cock, and it would be a miracle if he didn't shatter like glass right there, even moreso at the amazing sound of the other's silky voice, full of promise and pain and why the hell had he resisted doing this for so long?!
His head banged painfully on the floor, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, making him give an inarticulate keening moan of pleasure and pain, a little crimson trail slithering down the side of his mouth.
Some part of Ryuuji noted the 'wanna' because it was what Nightwing used, and he was used to hearing it, but it sounded so different during sex, so much rawer and needing, less controlled and trusting. And Nightwing was moving back against him, and Ryuuji panted, open-mouthed, eyes widening because - because overload-too-much-too-tight-everything. It was a feeling of golden curling liquid in the pit of his stomach, harsh, jarring pain stabbing at his spine, and the sound of Nightwing's keening pained-pleased moan. And blood. Fuck. Nightwing was bleeding and Ryuuji really shouldn't have found that erotic but he did, and he slammed in harder, like he wanted to break Nightwing in half and desperately pressed down over the other just long enough to lick at the lttle trail of blood.
"Tasty. I think I want to make you bleed more. Tie you down and cut you up, marks that won't scar because they're not meant for anyone else to see, just for you to feel, soap stinging them in the shower, disinfected everytime you change the bandages. And they'll be there, and I'll know it, and you'll know it, and I'll hold you with my fingers curled over them, and press and nobody except for the two of us would know why such a gentle touch could make you wince like that." And the words (blood) were (was) metallic-sweet in his mouth, and Ryuuji withdrew and thrust in again, and he could taste the blood over everything else he'd had in his mouth, and his eyes glittered and power sparked and - and- and- break open. And this time, the force of his release twisted and changed as power surged with him, spilling over Nightwing, crackling, exploring tendrils of green that webbed over his body, sank into his skin, covered and claimed and marked him.
And for days afterwards, Nightwing would be glowing green to anyone with the right type of sight; he'd wear Ryuuji's magic under his skin.
"Ryuuji," came the moan, harsh and hungry and oh fuck oh fuck Dick was trying to control himself, but he couldn't, not anymore, not after the thought of Ryuuji marking him with invisible cuts, oh fuck, and a tongue against his chin lapping up the hot trail of blood, and the other was coming in him, and it was the sexiest fucking thing he'd ever seen, and the feeling of Ryuuji on him, and –
- and oh fuck, there was that magic again, only it felt a little different, a little more possessive, and that was it for him. He let go, burning heat surging into a sneak preview of paradise.
When he finally brought his eyes back into focus, he was still trembling with adrenaline and magic, but could feel it slowly receding into a post-orgasmic haze. "Oh, fuck." Funny how versatile a word could be; half a minute earlier, it had sounded pained and hungry and urgent, and now it was almost sweet.
His mind wanted him to remember that they both had classes in entirely too soon, and he was going to need to do a lot of stretching and applying of bruise cream if he wanted to have semi-regular range of movement tomorrow, and he and Ryuuji probably still had a ton of serious talking they needed to do. His body, on the other hand, just wanted to luxuriate. Mmm, yeah, bitches, his groin seemed to say, that was choice. The rest of him just wanted to know what that delightful tingling sensation was.
Rather a long moment later, Dick worked up the energy to speak. "I'd ask if that was good for you too, but I'm guessing that's a silly question."
Truthfully, with a contentedly tired laugh, Ryuuji told the other, "I can't think of any way it could have been better."
Pause, and he corrected himself, "Unless it had happened sooner." A soft, lazy kiss was nuzzled against the side of Nightwing's neck - sweaty and slightly sticky but smelling like Nightwing, and Ryuuji let himself relax even further, warm, blissful afterglow haze blurring his vision slightly and making his limbs feel too heavy to move.
Except he probably should move. A little. Because right now, Ryuuji was sprawled on top of Nightwing, exhausted - sex was great, energy flux was great and it was utterly awesome to have been able to share that with Nightwing. And Nightwing was still warm, and made a good mattress, even if he was quivering faintly. He ought to at withdraw though. Reluctantly, arms complaining at having to support his own weight again, Ryuuji pushed himself up just enough to pull out of Nightwing, then promptly flopped down on the side of the other again. One arm resting over Nightwing's stomach, fingers splaying themselves out over the other's hipbone instinctively, Ryuuji let himself just bask in the satisfaction of a bout of really, really amazing sex.
And the fun thing about energy-sharing? It tended to mean that sex tired him out enough to let him actually sleep afterwards without any Dreamless Sleep Potion/sleeping pills/whatever the local equivalent was.
And they probably did need to talk, seriously, but right now, Ryuuji couldn't think of anything to say that didn't deal with how much he'd enjoyed that and how good a fuck Nightwing was. And Nightwing was there, warm and sweaty and kinda sticky - could they make it to the shower? Ryuuji's body protested that idea - and talking could wait until the morning. Really.
Reaching up to the bed, Ryuuji grabbed the blanket, and dragged it down to the two of them, draping it over them languidly before grabbing a pillow and raising his head for long enough to slide it underneath, nudging Nightwing's head with it lightly to indicate the other boy should share it. There. Now they didn't even need to climb up onto the bed; they could just sleep. Well, as soon as Nightwing was freed, anyway. A few seconds of concentration had the shadows slip free of Nightwing's arms, letting him move freely once more, and Ryuuji kneaded the muscles of the closest one without being asked to, knowing himself how much you could strain them when trying to get free.
"Mm. Sorry. I'll do better –" the sentence was cracked by a yawn "- next time."
Nightwing really did need a shower, but . . . his body really didn't want to move. It wasn't that the floor was all that comfortable, exactly, but moving required coordination, and also making Ryuuji move with him – he had felt irrationally annoyed at the other even withdrawing - sounded like too much effort for what it was worth. Besides, it was so cozy having the younger man sprawled over him that . . . yeah, he'd deal, until morning, Mmm. He certainly was going to have the best blanket in the school, without a doubt.
Another yawn, and the vigilante shot Ryuuji a sleepy smile, then lifted his head enough to make room for the pillow, taking the opportunity to press a light kiss to the other's lips. "Thanks, babe." Yup, definitely going to zonk out right here, Especially with Ryuuji massaging one of his arms (they both did hurt, but not as badly as they might on someone else; he did very thorough yoga every morning, and it had its helpful ramifications in practically every physical activity.) sending a delicious little tingle to the exhausted flesh. With an effort, Dick dragged his other arm up enough to curl it around the other's waist, then nuzzled his face comfortably into the closest shoulder. Perfect. He could sleep like this until morning.
Which is exactly what he did.
A beeping sound pierced Dick's sleep (he had been dreaming an old and familiar dream about Bruce) and stirred him groggily awake, making complaining little morning noises. Oh. The beeping was his alarm. Huh. He really should have gotten up to turn it off, but he wasn't sure he could, because, uh, body weight on top of him and – hey, whoa, body weight on top of him,
Beeping noise. ARGH. Ryuuji didn't need to dealing with beeping noises, he was trying to sleep. He liked his sleep. A lot. Poutily, he lifted one hand groggily and waved it in the general direction of the alarm clock, sending it to the Shadow Realm the same way that he'd banished his trousers and Nightwing's. Because he was waking up pretty much exactly where he'd fallen asleep, sprawled out over a nice, firm body, and even if he wasn't awake enough to recognize the sound as that of an alarm clock, he knew that it wasn't actually a danger. Nightwing's room, and Nightwing's body, and damnit, he didn't want to be awake.
Sleepily, he nuzzled a kiss against Nightwing's shoulder, and told the other lazily, yawning midword, "Go back to sleep, Risou..." Ryuuji was asleep again by the time he finished the sentence, dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his high cheekbones, full lips curved into a faint, happy smile. Still cuddled against and over him, he let himself slumber, dreaming of gold and green and dragon leather, no plot but just snatches of color and song.
And by the time he woke up, it was already late morning, roughly about eleven or so. Which was when he normally woke up anyway, so Ryuuji was fine with that. Morning sunshine filtered in through the still open window, falling onto his back, and Ryuuji made a soft sound as he woke up, perfectly content to now face the world. Skin golden and soft under the light, Ryuuji stretched out over Nightwing, then smiled down at the other male, waiting to see if Nightwing would wake up and realize he was being stared at.
When the alarm had mysteriously ceased, Dick had meant to open his eyes and see what the hell happened to it, but he was so comfortable and warm! Bruce would have been deeply ashamed of him, but he dozed quite happily off again. Morning routine? Classes? Eh, fuck 'em.
So by the time eleven rolled around, his body was starting to twinge a little at the odd sensation of being late, subconsciously aware that the warm sun on his skin was an aberration from the norm. As was the fact that he was on the floor. Semi-conscious, his brain began to run a few standard procedures: no severe injuries detected (though there were some abnormal twinges in the vicinity of his ass, which was not unheard of but was enough to an aberration to tip a warning flag) not tied up, no medicinal smell, in the presence of another body . . . Oh, his brain concluded, satisfied. He'd gotten laid last night.
Dick might possibly have gone back to sleep yet again – bountiful sleep was a luxury for him – if it weren't for the niggling sensation he was being watched. Also, movement on top of him, hm, definite aberration. He wouldn't have been a vigilante if that didn't trigger an instinctive response.
Groggily, Dick muttered something incoherent, opening his eyes. And shifting immediately into staring at Ryuuji, bemusedly.
"Morning, Risou!" Ryuuji greeted Nightwing cheerfully as soon as the blue eyes locked on his own pure green gaze. Although not usually a morning person early morning, a well-rested Ryuuji was a happy one. And last night had been awesome. Even if Ryuuji wasn't exactly sure how Nightwing would react now, and he wasn't exactly looking forwards to having to talk to Nightwing now.
Brushing that aside for the moment, he nuzzled under the other's chin, dropping a quick kiss on the joint of his neck and shoulder, and then rolled off to the side, sitting up next to Nightwing and trying to disentangle himself from the blankets. Succeeding in doing so, he stood up and stretched like a cat would, pulling both arms over his head and rocking up onto his tiptoes, curling his spine down and then raising up again before dropping down to stand normally. Vivid red gashes scored down his back from Nightwing's blunted nails of last night, and there were bruises starting to form on his hips, shoulders and throat flecked with darkening bitemarks, rust-red against the pale gold of his skin.
They ached somewhat, but in a good way, and Ryuuji didn't bother being bashful about his nakedness as he twisted back to extend a hand to Nightwing, offering the other help in getting up, "It's about eleven now, so I can use Prefect slash staff privileges to get the House Elves to deliver us a brunch - I'll talk to them while you shower. Mind if I borrow some clothes? I could make them out of shadow substance, but then they'd be all dark blue-purple and look way weird on me. Much more noticeable than if I just a grab a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans from you."
Ryuuji, able to wake up after a night of dancing and cuddling and mindblowing sex and still plot for the day ahead with all the aplomb and easy adjustment of someone who did something like that all the time? Well, yes. Compared to the rest of his life, having wedding night magical sex on the floor was practically normal.
...And besides, they could talk over breakfast. Lunch. Brunch.
Even if Ryuuji wasn't looking forwards to that, they would need to talk.
((Next part is here.))
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...And then Nightwing got his head out of his ass and decided he wanted Ryuuji's cock in there instead. *whistles innocently* Hope that helped!))
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Disclaimer: I know it wasn't just porn, but c'mon. Fu~unny.))
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Hey, there was "aww"-worthy moments, and you can aww over pr0n. Well. No maybe you can't but I did, so nyah! Fine, I'll admit it. I like morning after!fic, it's cute in it's own way.
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