Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders.

It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances.

The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible...”

The Picture of Dorian Gray

If Jason Todd had to visualize what a perfect Friday evening would look like for him, the one he was having right now would be pretty close to it. At the moment, he was resting comfortably on the sofa in the library of Wayne Manor, covered by a cosy wool blanket and a fire gently crackling in the fireplace. A large cup filled with Alfred’s famous hot chocolate stood on the little coffee table in front of the sofa. Most importantly, though, he was holding in his hands his beloved, worn-out paperback copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. The book had been a birthday gift from his mother when he turned ten. Thinking back, Jason wondered why his mom had thought that the dark story about an aristocrat who sells his soul and even murders people to stay eternally young would be suitable for a ten-year-old boy, but in retrospect he was glad that she had. The book really had changed his life, birthing his passion for literature which soon became one of his few worthwhile escapisms, especially 19^th-century literature. Even though he had subsequently consumed practically everything that the Victorian section at the Gotham Public Library had to offer, Dorian Gray still remained his favourite, partly because of Oscar Wilde’s beautiful language and the poignant tragedy of the story, but also because the book was a reminder of how loving and thoughtful his mother could be when she was sober. The book had already been a second-hand copy when he received it, but to Jason it was more precious than anything else and one of the few things that he brought with him when Bruce took him in four years ago. Looking around at the massive collection of expensive-looking volumes on the shelves, Jason wouldn’t even be surprised if Bruce owned a first edition of Wilde without knowing it, but so far Jason hadn’t found one. Even if he had, its monetary value still would have paled against the emotional value of his own raggedy Penguin Classics volume, which he had read so often that he knew some of the passages by heart.

The evening was made all the more enjoyable by the fact that he would have it all to himself. Bruce was going to attend another societal event together with Dick, who was due to arrive any time now. Originally Jason had been supposed to go, but he had already accompanied Bruce begrudgingly to some function two weeks ago, even though Bruce knew very well how the boy hated these things with a fiery passion. When he complained about it to his big brother on the phone later, Dick, being the lifesaver that he was, had promptly offered to go in his place and give him a night off, which he had gladly accepted. So after dinner, Jason had moved straight to the library and was only disturbed once by Alfred generously blessing him with his hot chocolate.

The fact that Dick would so matter-of-fact-ly jump in for Jason would not have been conceivable to anyone just a couple of years ago. To say that Jason and Dick had started off on the wrong foot would be a gross understatement. The resentment that Dick had felt towards Bruce when he stripped Robin away from him at age 17, the hero persona he had created in dedication to his mother, had only gotten worse when Jason had appeared on the scene and taken on that same moniker. His first year as Robin had been rough, filled with shouting matches not only between him and Bruce, but also between him and Dick. Jason had been hurt by the latter's initial rejection of him, considering that he had always wanted to have siblings and had looked up in admiration to the original Boy Wonder ever since he could remember. He had never imagined that the Boy Wonder was indeed just a normal boy with normal emotions, a boy who could be as grumpy and petty as anybody else. When Dick established himself in Blüdhaven and took on the Nightwing character, however, things started to improve, albeit slowly. Dick realized that Jason was not to blame for Bruce’s decisions, while Jason learned that Dick’s anger was not intended for him directly. Things took a huge turn for the better when Bruce eventually allowed Robin to patrol with Nightwing in Blüdhaven once every two weeks if things were quiet enough in Gotham. The bond that they grew as crime-fighters quickly affected their bond as brothers as well and soon enough, the days that Jason was able to spend time with Dick – which had grown in number once Dick had started to return to the Manor more frequently – became his favourites of the entire week. At 16 years old, Jason had finally found the brother and friend that he had always hoped for.

Thus, a smile spread across Jason’s face when Alfred gently opened the library door to announce that “Master Dick has arrived”. Jason immediately pulled back the blanket, jumped off the sofa and hurried out of the room, along the corridor, down the staircase and into the entry hall. Trying not to show his elation too much, he slowed down his pace a few steps away from his brother and took in his outfit and --- oh.

Oh.

Dick was wearing … leather.

Head-to-toe black leather.

Leather jacket. Leather pants. Leather gloves. Leather boots.

All of it so tight it looked like someone had poured a dark liquid over his body and it had simply stuck and solidified on him. So tight and shiny that Jason suddenly felt a funny little twitch in his crotch that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Dick, on the other hand, had a huge grin on his stupidly handsome face at seeing his little brother and cheered, “Hey there, Little Wing!” He quickly stepped forward and engulfed Jason in his trademark Dick Grayson hug.

It took Jason a moment to realize what was happening and wrap his arms around his brother in return because of everything he was processing. Not only was his brother dressed in tight leather. Now his brother was also embracing him in his leather-clad arms and pushing him against his torso and – damn, has Dick always been this muscular? Has he always smelled so masculine and earthy? Hesitantly, Jason’s fingers finally touched the leather encasing Dick’s broad shoulders and the supple feeling of the smooth material felt truly incredible – so incredible that Jason’s crotch began to throb again even more forcefully than before. Panicking, Jason stepped away as soon as Dick loosened his embrace, hoping desperately that the former Robin had not noticed the physical reaction he had just sparked in his little brother. Luckily, the unperturbed grin that he wore on his face told Jason that Dick was still ignorant of the turmoil in Jason's nether regions.

“How are you doing, buddy? Enjoying your night off?”, he asked, genuine interest in his voice.

Still perplexed and confused, Jason had to force his vocal chords to actually produce a sound. “Ah, yeah, I was just reading in the library.” And then, because apparently a small masochistic part of him was craving even more humiliation and embarrassment than what his crotch was already providing, he added, “That’s a, ehm, cool outfit you’re wearing.”

Jason was not yet the World’s Greatest Detective, but neither did he need to be in order to deduce the raging flush that had to be spreading across his face right now.

Luckily for him, Dick looked down along his way-too-toned body upon Jason’s comment. “Thanks, Little Wing! That’s my riding gear. I was running late at work, and the traffic between ‘Haven and Gotham is a nightmare at this hour, so I figured the bike would be quicker than the car.”

It was only then that Jason noticed the black helmet in Dick’s left hand. Good detective job, Boy Wonder, Jason chastised himself internally. The teenager knew that Dick owned a bike, so naturally he’d have some gear to go with it, but he’d never seen it in action. Thankfully. When Dick looked up at him, Jason hoped that he’d regained control over his facial colours enough to hide what was unravelling in him.

Unfortunately, because Dick Grayson must be an oblivious bastard who has no clue about the effect that he has on other people, he pulled down the zipper of his jacket with his right hand, casually revealing a slim grey Henley underneath. Through the thin material, the ridges of his eight-pack abs and pecs, not to mention his nipples, were painfully visible to Jason, setting his face right aflame again and making the crotch of his light grey sweat pants subtly stretch out.

Jason had known objectively that Dick was handsome and probably even qualified as what people would call ‘sexy’ for years. If he had a dollar for every time he’d had heard someone refer to Dick as ‘pretty’ – whether it was at social events, or at school whenever he mentioned that he was Dick Grayson’s younger brother – Jason would have a fortune rivalling Bruce’s. Even some of the villains they’d fought together in the past had made lewd comments about Nightwing’s admittedly revealing suit and how he’d surely grown from a Boy Wonder into a Man Wonder. Still, none of it had ever had the slightest effect on Jason – who had known that he wasn’t straight for a few years by now. Besides, he hadn't come out yet to his family and while he no doubt that they would totally accept him - after all, Dick himself was bi, and neither Bruce nor Alfred had any problem with that - popping a boner for his adoptive older brother didn't seem the best coming-out strategy to the current Boy Wonder.

Jason also knew theorerically that he himself was nothing to sneeze at in the looks department, either. Once he’d hit puberty, his face had taken on sharper, more masculine features which added nicely to the muscular body he was gaining from all his training and patrolling. If he didn’t deliberately try to keep people at Gotham Academy away from him with the edgy loner vibes that he was giving off, Jason would probably be just as popular as the jocks based on appearance alone. Still he had never achieved the golden pretty boy status that Dick had had, and neither had he wanted to. Dick was the Boy Wonder who could be a Hugo Boss model in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. Jason, on the other hand, was the Boy Wonder who could one day become the lead singer of a rock band and secretly read Jane Austen on the tour bus.

So why in the ever-loving fuck did his teenage cock decide to get interested in his goddamn adoptive brother right now, just because he was wearing leather?!

Trying not to look at anything in particular, especially not the area south of Dick's Henley, a task that was hard difficult enough for the dark-haired twink, Jason gulped and heard himself say, “It looks pretty … ehm … tight.”

At that Dick handed his helmet to Alfred, who had just arrived out of nowhere as he tends to do, and popped the collars of his jacket, because of fucking course he would.

“Haha, yeah, the fit is pretty snug, that’s true. Riding gear is usually very bulky because of all the protective padding and so on. Keeps you safe, but not very easy on the eyes. This is a new brand; instead of just sewing in pads, they somehow weave the protection into the leather itself so that it’s all wearable and fashionable too. “

“It’s very nice”, Jason’s traitorous mouth blabbered before he could stop himself, giving Dick all the encouragement that he needed to continue on.

“Right?! Maybe I can take you out for a ride one day.”

Jason’s bulging eyes gave the bulge below his belt a run for its money at that suggestion.

“You … w-would?”, he stammered in disbelief.

“Of course! We’d have to get you your own gear first, though, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I think Wayne Enterprises actually helped with the development of these”, he mentioned and slapped his leather-clad thighs, nonchalantly inflaming the heat in Jason’s body even more.

“We did indeed”, came Bruce’s voice suddenly from the top of the stairs, as he swiftly descended, already dressed in a three-piece suit. Like a knight in black silk, he saved Jason and diverted Dick’s attention away from his little brother. “We also contribute to tonight’s charity, for which we will definitely be late if you don’t get changed immediately”, he added with an authoritatively raised eyebrow.

“Nice to see you too, Bruce”, Dick responded, with a deliberate, shit-eating grin on his face.

Still holding Dick’s helmet, Alfred stepped in at this point and said, “On the topic of changing, I’ve already laid out your attire for tonight in your room, Master Dick, and I’m afraid Master Bruce is correct. If you’d like to avoid being unfashionably late, I suggest we leave in 30 minutes at the latest, Sirs.”

“No worries, Alfie, I only need 15”, Dick answered cheerfully and immediately turned towards the stairs and departed for his room. Just when Jason thought his … excitement … had calmed down, his gaze followed his older brother and made the tragic mistake of laying eyes on Dick’s leather-clad backside as he worked his way up the steps again, and yup – his cock was instantly back in full force again and well on its way to becoming an outright, unmissable boner.

Yet, because the universe apparently hadn’t forsaken Jason completely though, Bruce and Alfred walked off towards the kitchen that same moment to discuss some final details about tonight’s events, leaving Jason behind in the entry hall and the ticking time bomb in his pants unnoticed. What was happening to him? He had seen Dick in the Nightwing suit, which arguably fitted him just as tightly as his motor riding gear, countless times, and not once had he popped a boner in response to him. Hell, he had seen him naked in the shower of the Bat Cave, and nothing happened! So what was wrong with him now? He tried some of the calming exercises that Bruce had taught him after his first panic attack as Robin. Still, somehow the imaginary vision of Dick’s leather-clad thighs straddling the seat of a powerfully engined machine crept back into his mind and by proxy into his groin. If Jason hadn’t known previously that he wasn’t straight, he certainly would have after tonight.

Deep into his unsuccessful attempts at meditation, Jason lost his sense of time and had no idea how long he remained there rooted to the spot, when suddenly Dick came down the stairs again. His previously messy hair was now slicked back in a wet look, while his leather gear was replaced by a dark suit similar to Bruce’s, which fit to his body just as tightly as the gear, hitting the perfect balance between accentuating his fine lines while not looking obscene. A balance that was not helpful to Jason’s bulge in the slightest. Neither was the realization that in a tux, Jason’s brother practically looked like a black-haired Dorian Grayson. Nor that his fragrance smelled like a billion dollars.

“Still here, Little Wing? Thought you’d be back in Victorian England by now”, he laughed, but without any derision in his tone.

Somehow, Jason found his voice gain.

“Oh, ehm, I just wanted to see you off. Don’t have you around here every day”, adding silently that somebody definitely was getting off tonight once he had the Manor all to himself.

“Aww, that’s so nice of you!”, Dick cooed affectionately, gripping Jason’s shoulder. “But don’t worry, we’ll have the whole weekend to hang out.”

Again, Jason gulped nervously. All of a sudden, the prospect of having Dick and his leathers in the Manor for a full weekend struck him as alarming and distressing, more than anything else. There was only so much that deep breathing, meditation and strategically placed books could cover up over the span of 48 hours. Against a cheerful, unintentionally flirtatious Dick Grayson, no mental defences could withstand for long. The vision of Dick in his biker gear had torn open an erotic door in Jason that he hadn’t even known to exist, and now it would be borderline impossible to put a lock on it again, a vision that once seen could not be unseen.

Before Jason could respond to his older brother, Bruce and Alfred reappeared in the entrance hall and Dick thankfully let go of Jason’s shoulder.

After checking his cuffs again, Bruce gave Jason a quick hug – Jason awkwardly keeping his crotch at bay from Bruce, just to be safe – and said, “Okay, Jaylad, we should be back by midnight at the latest. You can always call me if something comes up. Have a good night and see you later.”

“You too”, was all the answer he could muster, as the three men stepped through the heavy front doors of Wayne Manor.

Before they fell shut, however, Dick threw a grin back over his shoulder and had the audacity to wink at Jason, calling, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Little Wing!”

Jason waited until he heard the engine of Bruce’s car (or rather, of the one car from his seemingly endless collection that had been chosen for tonight) rumble into action and then gradually drift away. Once he was sure they were gone, his upper body slumped forward and he let his hands rest on his thighs. A loud, exasperated “FUCK!!!” escaped his mouth, before he lifted himself up again and breathed in and out slowly and deeply to calm down his sexually agitated body. Jason was no stranger to arousing experiences. Even though he had not had sex yet with another person, he had begun to masturbate every now and then once he’d realized that people somehow found him attractive, especially as Robin. Still, he had always been able to keep his urges under control when he’d needed to. This time though, he’d been perilously close to losing control. Not only had he popped a boner over his fucking brother; he had almost cum for him in front of his entire family. If Dick had stayed in the entrance hall wearing his leather gear any minute longer than he had, Jason wasn’t sure if he would have been able to keep it together. Dick in his leather gear had unleashed a desire in Jason that he hadn’t known was there.

What’s worse though was Dick’s reaction right before the doors fell shut. During most of their excruciating interaction – honestly, when did less than 30 minutes ever feel that long? – he’d been under the impression that Dick hadn’t noticed his aroused state. But then that last comment accompanied by a seemingly knowing wink had thrown him completely off guard. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Little Wing!” What would Dick do in his place? Had he noticed Jason’s arousal after all, and was telling him so through that coded message? If so, what did stupid wink mean? Considering how often Dick Grayson could be seen winking and smirking, both as a civilian and even as Nightwing, it is sometimes difficult to interpret his facial expressions and to draw the line between innocent smirks and mischievous smirks. Which kind had this one been? Was he possibly even encouraging Jason to act on his desire?

In order to get his mind clear from all these sexually confusing thoughts, Jason decided to take a shower, put on his PJs, and get back to the library. The hotness of the pouring water and possibly a quick jerk should calm him down and help him release some of the pressure that had been building inside of him. Alfred’s hot chocolate would probably be lukewarm at best by now, but even re-heated it tasted delicious. With that plan, Jason walked up the stairs again, convinced that this would be a good plan to keep his mind from drifting back towards his brother. The brother that he certainly did not pop a boner for mere minutes ago. The brother that did not look like a freaking runway model in his three-piece suit and slicked-back hair. The brother that he would not have to share house with for the next 48 hours.

Nope. This plan would work, no doubts it. At least that’s what Jason told himself until he realized that his feet had walked right past his own room and had stopped outside the door of a different room. A room that Jason unfortunately knew to be Dick Grayson’s. He wanted to turn away again, but as if his body was operating in autopilot mode, he pulled the door handle to his brother’s room and stepped inside.

Upon switching on the light, Jason found the room, which was structurally identical to his own, much as he remembered it. On the right side of the large bed stood a chair, a desk and a few book shelves, filled with Dick’s old school books, trophies from his mathlete and gymnastics competitions as well as a framed photograph of a younger Dick together with Bruce and Alfred in front of the elephant enclosure at the Gotham zoo. The stuffed equivalent to Dick’s favourite animal, whose name Jason knew was Zitka, was sitting on the thick pillow of the bed. On the wall left from the bed next to the closet hang a huge Flying Graysons poster that always drew Jason’s attention when he entered the room. Tonight however, his focus was pulled by the things lying cluttered somewhat disorderly in the middle of the duvet: Dick’s leather jacket and leather pants.

Slowly, Jason stepped towards the bed, in disbelief that these pieces of clothing that had caused him so much unease mere minutes ago were right there in front of him. When he stood by the bed, Jason tentatively placed his hand on the front of the jacket, and instantly his cock sprang to life again, sensing the rich fibre of the fabric and imagining the ripped body that had worn that fabric not long ago. Suddenly, a primal impulse overcame the teenager: he hastily pulled off the slightly oversized Gotham Academy hoody that he had worn as well as the plain white t-shirt underneath. Once he was he shirtless, Jason took Dick’s leather jacket off the bed and slid his arms into its heavy sleeves. The sensation was all that the young man needed for his hardening cock to transform into a full-on tenting boner. The feeling of the sleek leather directly on Jason’s skin was nothing short of the most arousing experience in the 16-year-old’s life so far. Slightly throwing his head back, he moaned deeply as he hugged himself in the jacket and tried to touch as much of the supple leather as he could with his hands, enjoying the tingling squeaks that his movements created.

Remembering that there were several body-length mirrors along the corridor outside, Jason left the room and instantly found one. However he struggled to believe that the reflection that greeted him on its surface was actually his own. Jason had to acknowledge that the young man in the mirror was, for all intents and purposes, sexy: fashionably messy dark hair, a sharply jawed face and an athletically toned torso framed by a black leather jacket that, much to Jason’s own surprise, fitted him rather nicely. It wasn’t 100 percent perfect yet, especially in the shoulder area that still hung somewhat loosely on the boy. Nevertheless, it fitted him much better than Jason had expected. With arousing glee, he realized that at 16 years his own body was already much closer to Dick’s body at 21 than the age gap between them would suggest. One day he would look just as buff as Dick, possibly even buffer – a thought that made his rock-hard cock throb in undeniable excitement. Then he could walk around in tight leather clothing and show off his body just like his big brother does so suavely. Jason had been aware of the fact that people considered him attractive for a while, but it had taken seeing himself shirtless and dressed in Dick’s amazing leather jacket for Jason to realize and appreciate his own sex appeal as well.

Quite frankly, if Jason saw a guy in real life who looked as hot as the person in the mirror, he would definitely want to get his hands on him. With strange fascination, he reminded himself that he actually was the stud staring back at him right now, and that he could do whatever he wanted with the enticing body in the reflection. Almost giddily excited at that prospect, Jason raised his hands towards his pecs, his eyes locked onto the mirror, and started to squeeze and rub his protruding nipples. “FUCK!”, he groaned loudly, once more throwing his head back, as a flash of arousal shot throughout his entire body and his nipples hardened almost immediately. For a minute or so, Jason kept his eyes closed, simply moaning and enjoying the waves of pleasure that spread from his stimulated nipples into the rest of his ripped teenage muscles. When he opened his eyes again, it took him a few seconds to notice the tiny but significant detail that had changed about his appearance. Right in the middle of his bulging crotch, a dark stain was forming in the otherwise pale grey cotton.

“Shit!”, Jason exclaimed, stricken by panic. His cock was leaking precum in his sweat pants! He scolded himself for being such a horny fuckboy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself – or rather off himself in this case. There was no way that Alfred wouldn’t notice that stain or its curious position in his next round of laundry and potentially even make inquiries about its origin. Deciding that he’d had enough kinky fun for one night, Jason walked into Dick’s room, determined to put the leather jacket back where he’d found it and to eliminate any evidence of what had just transpired. Unfortunately, when he reached the bed, Jason’s subliminal urges seemed to overpower his hero body yet again. Instead of taking Dick’s leather jacket off, Jason grabbed the pair of leather pants that were still lying on the duvet and raised them up to his face. Then he covered his nose with the crotch piece of the pants and took a deep breath, inhaling their primal, masculine scent that smelled like leather, oil, metal, sweat, and pubic hair all at once. The sensation was overwhelming for the 16-year-old. This is the leather that was just wrapped around Dick Grayson’s powerful legs, Jason realized lustfully. And then: not just his legs. What’s between his legs, too. For a leaking teenage boy who was already on the edge, that epiphany was one erotic thought too many. With an almost wailing “Uurrggghhh”, Jason tensed and felt the pressure in his tenting boner release as floods of cum poured out of its tip and down his pants. On and on his cock kept squirting. When his orgasm finally subsided, Jason needed several minutes to get his breathing under control again. Having recomposed himself, he looked down his body and saw that just as he’d feared, there were thick dark lines of jizz running from his crotch down his thighs all the way to his knees.

“Damn”, he muttered exhaustedly. If his orgasm hadn’t felt so incredible, Jason might have been ashamed by the fact that he gotten himself off without even touching his cock. Dick's leathers and a bit of nipple play and boom - he was a goner. But the reality was that it had felt incredible and that he would do it all over again if he could. The scent of Dick’s leather crotch alone just made it all worth it. Still he needed to clean up his mess if he didn’t want this weekend to turn into a completely humiliating disaster for him. Slowly, he put the leather pants pack on the bed and then gingerly took off the jacket too, careful not to let its sleeves hang anywhere near his crotch. He arranged both pieces of clothing on the duvet just as he had found them and inspected the area for any stray cum shots that he might have sprayed over Dick’s bed and gear. Luckily for Jason, though, the cotton of his sweat pants seemed to have soaked up all of his man juice before it could do any further damage. Relieved that he hadn’t soiled Dick’s surely expensive gear, he grabbed his hoody and t-shirt and exited the scene of the crime without a trace.

Back in his room, Jason, quickly stripped out of his pants and underwear, which now both clung to his body rather stickily, and stepped into the shower of the en-suite bath room. The hot stream was a heavenly blessing after all that sexual excitement, cleansing his skin from the sweat that had amassed all over his body. Under the relaxing downpour, Jason let his mind recap tonight’s stunning turn of events and despite trying not to, his imagination spun the events even further. Jason had felt the incredible sensation of Dick’s leather jacket on his naked upper body, but now he wondered what it would be like if he also stepped into his brother’s leather pants? The mere idea of it had Jason erect again in no time, and after only a few light strokes of his cocks, the current Boy Wonder panted weakly and shot another huge load of cum across the shower.

Completely drained, literally and figuratively, Jason turned off the water, dried himself and put on one of his most comfortable PJs. Then he picked up the soiled pants and briefs and made his way to the laundry room, only stopping by the library to grab his neglected Dorian Gray. On a normal day, the laundry room was Alfred’s lone domain to which entrance for anyone else was forbidden on pain of unimaginable chores. But tonight had been anything but normal. Plus, spending the first 12 years of his life with mostly neglectful parents had taught Jason several involuntary skills, including how to work a laundry machine and a tumble dryer. Once he reached the room, he loaded the machine with his laundry, put in detergents and conditioner and started up the express washing cycle. Jason then sat down on a nearby stool and watched the washing machine slowly fill up with water. As he observed the water line rise and drown his dirty clothes in the fresh purifying liquid, his mind once again wandered back to the other liquid he had spilled tonight and to the amazing effect that Dick’s leather gear had had one him.

It had made Jason realize that he was in fact sexy, just like his brother, and that he wouldn’t have to hide in the larger-than-life shadow of the original Robin forever. Seeing his clothes begin to tumble, he vowed that he would follow in Dick’s footsteps all the way. One day, Jason would own leather clothing, just like Dick. And when that day comes, he’ll be the coolest and hottest guy to ever walk down the streets of Gotham City.

Just like Dick.

Chapter Text

If Dick Grayson had to visualize what a perfect relaxing Friday evening would look like to him, the one he was having right now would be far from it. First of all, he had already left the Blüdhaven Police Department later than he’d wanted to. Despite his young age of 21 years, Dick was already one of the most respected and well-liked officers at the Department with one of the highest rates of solved cases for someone so early in their career. The downside to that efficiency was the paper work that came along with it. Every solved case needed to be properly documented and filed and today of all days, Dick’s supervisor wouldn’t let him go despite his best pleading before the pile of papers on his desk had disappeared.

His chief’s timing couldn’t have been worse since Dick had also agreed to join Bruce at a fund raiser in Gotham tonight. Originally, Jason had been supposed to go, but after the 16-year-old had called him two weeks ago, complaining how Bruce had dragged him to some godawful event the previous night and had already announced the next one coming up in a fortnight, Dick had spontaneously offered to go in his place, which his little brother had gladly accepted. The two of them had come a long way since their early fights when Jason had been first adopted by Bruce and then took over the Robin cape as well, but those arguments were in the past. In the present day, Dick couldn’t love his brother any more if he tried. Their shared annoyance at Bruce’s constant social events had actually been one of the first experiences they’d bonded over. Unlike Dick, however, who had grown up in the spotlight of the circus and knew how to switch on a disarming smile in a heartbeat, Jason wore his heart on his sleeves and could rarely hide his feelings, positive or negative. So despite the extra stress that it caused Dick, the knowledge that he could give his brother a free, undisturbed night that he’d surely spend with some book in the library made it all worth it.

That knowledge didn’t lessen Dick’s frustration, though, when he left the parking lot at Blüdhaven PD around 5.30 pm in his old Ford in order to drive over to Gotham and realized that he’d gotten himself right into the middle of Friday night rush hour. “Great”, he sighed exasperatedly. Normally, Dick could manage the distance between Blüdhaven and Gotham in little over an hour. But with the traffic being what it was right now, he’d need at least twice that long, meaning he’d definitely be late for the fund raiser. He was already about to dial Bruce and let him know about the situation when a different idea popped into his head. After almost four years of living on his own, Dick knew the area between the two cities, including all the short cuts to get from one to the other, like the back of his hand. If he used his motorbike, rather than his run-down Ford, he might bypass the worst of the traffic jams on his way and possibly make up for the lost time at work. With that idea in mind, he turned right instead of continuing on straight towards the highway, and headed for the southern edge of town where his apartment was located.

Even though the area was definitely not the most sought-after part of Blüdhaven, and for good reason, this reputation that it was always fairly easy to find an empty parking spot close to his house. Today was no exception, with an empty space being available right next to Dick’s bike. He grabbed his badge and wallet and then hurried towards the old building on the corner. Letting himself in, he ascended the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and finally reached his apartment on the second floor. In his living-room, he paused briefly, wondering if there was anything he needed to bring with him. He would spend the whole weekend at the Manor, but there would be plenty of clothes for him there in his old room. Alfred would have likely prepared his suit for tonight – not that there was anything in his Blüdhaven apartment any way that was even remotely clean or ironed enough that Dick could wear to a Gotham fundraiser as the oldest son of the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor.

Deciding that he could get ready right away, then, Dick walked over to the bed room and opened the side closet where he kept his riding gear. Driving to Gotham by bike instead of by car not only had a likely time advantage. It also gave Dick another opportunity to put on his leather motorcycle jacket and pants that he’d bought little over of year ago. Dick had received his Triumph T120 Bonneville as a gift from Bruce on his 16^th birthday, one of his last truly happy memories with his adoptive father before their relationship had soured for some time. The bike had come with a full set of typical Kevlar riding gear. Dick had felt perfectly protected in them, but they hadn’t looked particularly appealing on him either, giving the athletic Boy Wonder a rather bulky and heavy shape. Even though the 16-year-old had been genuinely grateful beyond belief to his father for the incredible gifts, having grown up with little money in the circus, Dick had secretly yearned for something else, too. On the inside, he hoped that he could one day ride his bike in leather clothing.

Nobody knew that Dick had been fascinated by leather for years. It had started when he was 12 years old and saw The Wild One with Marlon Brando for the first time. It had been a rainy Wednesday afternoon, with Dick at home on a sick note, Bruce still at work, and Alfred out buying groceries – which was usually a full-day event, considering the grandness and level of Alfred’s cuisine. Dick had gone through Bruce’s old DVD collection and had selected The Wild One, intrigued by the title. The iconic image of Brando in his leather jacket on that Triumph Thunderbird had been the coolest – and, as Dick wouldn’t realize until years later, sexiest – things he had ever seen and had sparked the desire in him to one day look just as cool and edgy as Johnny Strabler.

The next formative leather experience in Dick’s life occurred roughly two years later, all thanks to Marc Spearing, one of Dick’s class mates at Gotham Academy. Marc was that rare breed of male high school student who had the good looks of your typical BMOC jock but without the stereo-typically shitty jock attitude. In fact, he had been one of the first people at GA to make a genuine effort to break through Dick’s initial shyness when he’d enrolled at the prestigious school. With his foreign origin and tragically famous back story, Dick’s start as a student had not been easy to say the least, so Marc’s kindness towards him had been immensely helpful for Dick to open up more and really learn how to interact with his peers. Marc was also straight, much to Dick’s regret who had buried all pretensions at being straight himself about a year prior when he had seen Kid Flash naked in the showers of the Teen Titans. Still, at school Dick kept details about his sexuality to himself. Even though Marc was pretty liberal in his views and surely would have no problem with Dick being bi in general, he might just take issues with one of his best friends crushing on him personally, so Dick didn’t want to take any chances.

That made it all the more difficult when one day in September, Marc sat down next to Dick in their class room wearing a light brown leather jacket that elegantly complemented the darker tone of his hair. Dick gulped as he looked over to his friend, taking in the virile scent of the leather and noticing against his better instinct Marc’s muscular biceps straining against the shiny material. Not usually short for words, Dick suddenly found it strangely difficult to respond when his friend greeted him, “Hey, what’s up Dick?” The situation got even more difficult, if not to say harder, for Dick when he later accidentally brushed Marc’s jacket with his bare forearm and felt the softness of the leather on his skin. Oh no, Dick thought nervously at that moment, trying to steal a discreet glance at the swelling bulge of his jeans. So far, the only people he had ever gotten a woody for had been both ginger-haired and in the know regarding of his crime-fighting alter ego; it had never happened for anybody else, let alone his straight best friend at school. Yet with Marc sitting so comfortably right beside him and his toned body filling out that leather jacket so nicely, the Boy Wonder who so rarely lost control over his surroundings found himself helpless to resist for once. Dick had always thought of Marc as a boy the same age as himself, albeit a very charming and handsome one; now though, that boy had transformed himself into a young man, all thanks to a simple leather jacket. Squirming in his tightening pants, Dick wasn’t sure what he wanted to get his hands on more, the leather jacket or the man wearing it – in all honesty probably both – but one thing was sure for the black-haired boy in that moment: one day he’d get his own leather jacket and look as cool as Marc in it. Dick was so used to playing the role of the perfect golden boy, which he didn’t mind as such because it came pretty natural to him. Still, a part of him sometimes craved to exude a more masculine bad boy edge, and owning a leather jacket like Marc would definitely enable Dick to do that.

But as is so often the case in life, things did not quite go as expected and Dick did not hark back to the leather topic until about a couple of years ago. Once again Marc had unknowingly provided the initiative. For a while now, Dick had been noticing that the Kevlar gear that Bruce had gifted him for his 16^th birthday was getting a bit tight and uncomfortable, with Dick having significantly buffed up in his new routine as Nightwing, so he knew that he’d have to invest in something new soon. Then, one Sunday afternoon, Dick had been lying lazily on the couch and had found himself scrolling down Instagram. At one point, he’d come across a new image of Marc, presumably somewhere out with friends, wearing a leather jacket and looking pretty damn hot in it, as always. Dick had stayed in touch with Marc, even after the latter had moved to the West coast to go to college and Dick had confessed his past crush on him (and thereby his non-heterosexuality) at his farewell party. Much to Dick’s surprise and relief, though, Marc had merely laughed out loud and given his friend a big hug, thanking him for his openness and vowing that his sexuality would never come in the way of their friendship.

Tapping the heart underneath Marc’s photo, Dick was reminded of that day at GA when his friend had come to school in that leather jacket and how Dick had silently vowed that he’d one day get one himself – a vow that he had still not fulfilled almost 5 years later. Then it struck him: if he needed a new riding gear anyway, he might as well get one made out of leather. That way, he could finally fulfil his two teenage fantasies and look as cool as Marc and as Marlon Brando all at once – a plan that his cock was in throbbing agreement with.

Over the next few weeks, Dick had spent most of his free time browsing the internet and searching for the perfect leather gear, a task more easily said than done. Most brands still stuck to that bulky design that he’d come to dislike in his old gear and wanted to avoid at all costs for his new one, but the longer he searched, the more frustrated Dick grew. This changed, more by accident than anything else, when he picked up a discarded newspaper at work one tired Monday morning after spotting a headline on the front page: “Wayne Enterprises investing in local start-ups”. Apparently, Bruce was collaborating with several smaller companies from Gotham and Blüdhaven to strengthen and support local businesses in the area, one of them being Urban Knights, a “clothing brand dedicated to producing innovative riding gear”, to quote the article. His curiosity sparked, Dick checked out their website later that night and saw that they were indeed working together with WE. According to their site, they had developed a newly resilient kind of biking leather that would make protective pads superfluous. Excited by this prospect, Dick clicked his way through their catalogue. As promised, the leather jackets and pants looked super slim and sleek just like non-biker street clothing; if you didn’t know, you would never pick out their items as riding gear based on looks. Dick couldn’t believe it. This sounded precisely like the kind of gear he had wanted, and his dad of all people had assisted in developing it! At that thought, Dick wondered whether the research on the suits of the Bat Family, especially the Nightwing suit, had somehow played into the creation of this new kind of leather, but that conversation would have to wait for later.

For now, Dick’s main priority was to visit the Urban Knights store in Blüdhaven asap, which he finally did on the Saturday of that week. The store was located in an old factory complex that had been refurbished recently. Still, much of the brick and metal work of the original interior had been maintained, giving the store the authentic vibe of an actual motorbike workshop. Upon entering, Dick was greeted by a handsome sandy-haired young man with several tattoos across his athletically defined arms, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans that accentuated what was sure to be a nicely toned body. The man, who apparently was an employee but could just as well have worked there as a model, showed him around, and then left Dick alone to look at the collection in more detail. It didn’t take him long to select a black leather jacket and a pair of black leather pants in his size – both without any unnecessary visual extras since Dick was going for a simplistic look – and went into the one of the fitting rooms to try them one. At first, he picked up the jacket and slipped his arm into the sleeves. Wow, he thought in amazement. The leather felt incredible on his body. The material instantly adjusted itself to his broad shoulders like a second skin. Underneath the jacket, Dick was only wearing a slim white t-shirt, so the sensation where the leather touched his bare arms sent goose bumps all over him and a shiver down his spine as well as into his groin. This is what Marc must have felt every time he put on his leather jacket, Dick marvelled silently. Letting his fingers glide over the smooth leather enveloping his biceps, Dick recognized that despite its flexibility and softness the material nevertheless seemed to be just as resilient and durable as the descriptions online had promised – and strikingly reminiscent of the Nightwing suit. To Dick’s delight and slight arousal, Urban Knights had created the perfect blend of protection and fashion.

Keeping the jacket on for extra pleasure, Dick then opened the fly of his jeans and pulled the blue denim off his legs. He picked up the pair of leather pants, lined them up and stepped into them, one leg after the other, with a low groan that not even the steely-minded Nightwing could suppress. The feeling of the leather pants on his skin was mind-blowing. The cold smoothness of the leather provided an intoxicating contrast to the heat burning underneath his skin, which made the meeting of two just unbelievable. By the time Dick had finished zipping and buttoning up the fly, the bulge of the pants was unmistakably pointing outwards. The pole straining against the leather only became even more rigid as Dick let his hands slide down his thick leather-clad thighs and he twisted his body slightly around to see his backside in the mirror. The attention that his ass always received – as a civilian but especially as Nightwing – had always amused Dick more than it had flattered him, because he had never quite understood its special appeal. But seeing how the shiny surface of the pants accentuated the firm roundness of his cheeks, even Dick had to admit that he looked juicy AF.

That Saturday morning in the fitting room at Urban Knights, then, Dick Grayson concluded two facts for himself. Firstly, he would absolutely buy the jacket and pants he was currently wearing and would probably become one of the most loyal customers of the brand. The gear definitely did not come cheap, but he earned good money at Blüdhaven PD and had been living pretty economically since moving here to keep some savings on the side. Besides, he was not above using the special credit card that Bruce Wayne had given him a while ago for special occasions, since this arguably qualified as a more than special occasion. Secondly, he would absolutely require all his mental strength and sexual discipline not to straight-up cum in his pants the first time he’d ride his bike in this outfit. If he already got hard from simply trying on this gear, Dick couldn’t even imagine what it would do to him once he wore it in action. And he did not want to soil his first pair of biker leathers right away with a premature orgasm.

10 minutes later, Dick’s boner had somewhat softened again when the handsome employee said, “Enjoy your purchase!”, and handed over two dark blue Urban Knights bags containing his new riding gear as well as a new pair of matching leather gloves. “Oh, I definitely will”, Dick responded with a grin, and then, looking at the man’s name tag, added “Caleb”. With a wink, he turned around and headed for the doors, practically feeling Caleb’s stare burning into his back. Wally had been pestering him about wanting to have a threesome for months, and Dick may just have found perfect candidate.

The next day, Dick cleared his whole schedule to have plenty of time for trying out his new gear. After sleeping in and having breakfast (read: cereals and coffee), he took a quick shower and then laid out his brand-new leather clothes on the bed. His shaft was already pulsing with excitement, and he hadn’t even touched his gear yet. Thank God I was trained by Batman, Dick thought, only half-jokingly, because this will definitely require superhero-level mental strength. After putting on a maroon sweater than snug closely to his torso, Dick slipped into his new leather pants and once again became almost instantly erect. Next came the jacket, which intensified his hard-on even more. Once he had zipped up the jacket, Dick closed and tried a little meditation to get his raging boner under control. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. He repeated this cycle for a couple of minutes, and while his boner didn’t exactly vanish, it softened enough so that people wouldn’t at least immediately point at him when he walked by. Satisfied, Dick slipped into one of his many pairs of black Chelsea boots, put on his helmet, and grabbed his keys.

A minute later, he sat down atop the seat of his Triumph and switched on the engine. Immediately, the effect of his laborious meditation from a minute ago went out the window as heat and energy shot from the machine seemingly right into the middle of his conveniently outstretched legs. Shocked by his own arousal, Dick had to take another few very deep breaths before he set the bike in motion and sped off in the direction of the high way.

Traffic was light on a Sunday morning, as expected, which meant that Dick could flex the muscles of his Triumph a bit. Unfortunately, there were other muscles that were being flexed by the speed too, as he drove. It wasn’t until Dick had reached the high way and had left the centre of Blüdhaven that he realized that his bike in combination with his new pants worked almost like a supersized vibrator. Under the constant rhythm of the engine, every inch of leather on Dick’s body was blazing with arousal, kindling the fire in his tenting crotch and quickly overwhelming the senses of the original Boy Wonder. Dick had expected this to happen eventually, he just hadn’t thought it possible that his muscular body which was trained to withstand any kind of physical impact would give in to the sensation that easily and quickly. He was immeasurably glad in that moment that his secret identity as Nightwing was safe and that none of his enemies could see him right now. If word got out how easily the vigilante got off from a piece of leather clothing, someone would surely use that weakness against him and design a trap that Dick wasn’t sure he could overcome. Remembering that the Nightwing suit was also made out of leather and equally as tight as his biker gear, Dick silently prayed that his newly discovered lust for leather would not spill over into his hero armour, either. Nobody would take a superhero with a visible boner in his pants seriously again.

Knowing that he needed to do something soon unless he wanted to paint his black leather pants white with jizz, he stopped at the next gas station, which luckily cropped up only a couple of miles later, hastily stored his helmet and gloves in the saddle bag and hurried straight towards the bath rooms. Glad that no one was there to witness his embarrassment, Dick locked himself into one of the cubicles, unbuttoned and pulled down his leather pants and freed his cock, which was already leaking precum, from his straining boxer briefs. He hadn’t even touched his penis yet when a huge load of white milky liquid short forth out of its head and into Dick’s cupped hands. Relieved that he had made it just in time, Dick rested his head against the door of the cubicle, closed his eyes and let his orgasm run its course. When it had finished, he opened his eyes again to find both of his hands white and sticky all over. “Damn”, Dick said to himself, impressed at his cum shot and reminded again of why he was known among the superhero community for his sexual prowess – just ask his boyfriend Kid Flash. Curiosity got the better of him, making Dick lift his hands towards his mouth – careful not to let anything drop onto his new gear – and lick off his right index finger. Strangely enough, he had never tasted his own sperm before, so he was delighted to note how nice the warm fluid tasted. A deceptively pleasant mix of saltiness and sweetness that the young man could definitely get used to. With almost boyish giddiness, Dick decided to lick the rest of his cum off of his hands, relishing the slight bitterness that tasted almost spicy on his tongue.

When his hands were clean, he tucked his softened cock back into his briefs, zipped up his leather pants and opened the cubicle. After a quick wash of his hands, Dick returned to his Triumph, curious to see whether the bike would have the same effect on him after the orgasm. Before long, Dick did feel his cock harden again, the combination of the engine and the leather just being too arousing to resist. But still, the orgasm seemed to have taken some of the steam out of the original Robin, judging by the fact that he was able to drive for another full hour without sensing any further imminent climaxes on the horizon. With each ride since then, Dick’s ability to keep his body in check had improved. Knowing how beguiling the experience of riding his Triumph in his leather was, definitely helped him mentally (and sexually) brace himself for subsequent occasions. Also, Dick learned that if he had time, a quick jerk-off before saddling his bike gave him another puffer of sexual exhaustion to reign in his bodily urges on the road.

Thus, by the time he donned his leather gear more than a year later to drive to the Manor and join Bruce at the fund raiser, Dick had learned to control and enjoy the pleasing buzz that he felt in his genitals whenever he sat on top of his Triumph without the constant worry of creaming his trousers. He could indulge in the sensation, letting himself get ever so slightly aroused during the ride without giving in completely. Wearing his gear had become second nature to Dick. Thus, less than 10 minutes after he had entered his apartment in his police uniform, Dick left it again, wearing a grey Henley and his beloved leathers, and straddled his Triumph.

Knowing what an exhausting evening lay ahead of him tonight, Dick let the inevitable arousal during the ride go further that he had in a while. For the first time in months, he allowed his cock to become fully erect in his pants; the week at work had been stressful and Dick just needed a little bit of pleasure in his life, which the combination of his leather pants and his bike always provided. In his erect bliss, Dick lost track of time and was almost surprised when he saw the gates of the Wayne premises appearing at the end of the street ahead of him. He accordingly slowed down and got to a halt in front of the small screen on the right-hand side of the gates. Slipping off the glove from his right hand, he pressed his index finger against the device. The red light in the camera on the left side of the gate told him than he was being watched as well. Then he heard a computerized voice say, “Signature recognized”, and the gates swung open, letting him drive the rest of the way up to the Manor at low speed. The brief pause had been a welcome change of pace in other ways too: by the time Dick dismounted his bike in front of the main entrance, his cock had softened again, saving him from the embarrassment of Bruce – or worse, Alfred – seeing him in a state of obvious arousal.

Speaking of Alfred, Dick hadn’t taken off his helmet by the time his butler (read: grandfather) greeted him, punctual and polite as always. “Welcome, Master Dick. It’s good to see you”.

“You too, Alfred”, Dick answered, opening his visor and peeking at his watch. 6.45 pm. Not too bad, he reckoned, considering that he’d only left work at 5.30. “Sorry for being late. My boss wouldn’t let me go, and you know how the traffic can be at this time.”

“Indeed I do. If you will excuse me, I shall inform Master Bruce and Master Jason of your arrival.”

“Oh! Sure, of course.” Ironically Dick had almost forgotten that Jason would be here, even though he was the main reason Dick had driven to Gotham tonight in the first place. As he watched Alfred walk back towards the Manor entrance, another realization hit Dick. Jason had never seen him in his riding gear. This could be interesting, he thought with a slightly crooked grin on his face. Jason hadn’t officially come out to his family yet, but he had been triggering Dick’s gaydar for a pretty long time. Judging from Dick’s own high school days, no teenage boy as good-looking as Jason could go dateless for that long without being in the closet. Jason was trying his best to hide it, but Dick was no fool, and neither were Bruce and Alfred. To be fair, Dick had no idea what Jason was into sexually, but he had sensed that the boy had been hero-worshipping his older brother for years, so if the current Robin ticked anything like the former Robin, then Dick’s current outfit would definitely have an effect on him.

Dick dismounted his Triumph, casually walked towards the doors and pulled off his helmet on the way. Once he’d reached the entrance hall, he didn’t have to wait long until the familiar rhythm of eager footsteps announced the arrival of his little brother. Dick turned around to see Jason descend the final stairs but suddenly come to an abrupt halt a few steps away from him, all tense and pale. Dick wasn’t quite sure yet whether he, or his gear, were the cause of that reaction so he decided to make the first move. With deliberate cheerfulness he exclaimed “Hey there, Little Wing!”, and engulfed his brother in a firm hug. Jason tensed even more in Dick’s arms and only returned the embrace hesitantly after a few seconds. Even though their bodies were close, they were not close enough for Dick to discover whether Jason’s rigidness also pertained to his genitals. Still, Dick did notice how quickly Jason loosened himself from Dick’s hug as if keen to get some distance between their bodies – very unusual for his little brother – and barely made a sound when Dick prompted him “How are you doing, buddy? Enjoying your night off?”. The sole answer he received was, “Ah, yeah, I was just reading in the library”.

But then, rather unexpectedly for Dick, Jason muttered, “That’s a, ehm, cool outfit you’re wearing”, and his face instantly flushed as red as Superman’s cape. Dick had to suppress a smug grin at that exposing double whammy, which told him everything he needed to know. Yes, Jason was into guys, and right now, he most definitely was into Dick and his leather gear. Dick loved his brother with every fibre of his being, but he also was not above teasing him when an opportunity presented itself, and rarely had there been an opportunity for teasing and being a troll like this one. Thus, in typical Boy Wonder fashion, Dick seized it, looking down along his leather-clad body and said, “Thanks, Little Wing! That’s my riding gear. I was running late at work, and the traffic between ‘Haven and Gotham is a nightmare at this hour, so I figured the bike would be quicker than the car.”

Acting like he hadn’t noticed the obvious state of arousal that was basically spelled out in blinking neon letters across Jason’s face, Dick then nonchalantly zipped open his leather jacket, revealing his slim Henley in the process which did nothing but accentuate Dick’s chiselled torso.

Jason’s face took on a darkly crimson colour while saying, “It looks pretty … ehm … tight.”

Oh dear, Dick thought as Alfred returned to the entrance hall and wordlessly took Dick’s helmet from him. His little brother really wasn’t making it difficult for him at all, so Dick took things even further, popping the collar of his leather jacket and chattering, “Haha, yeah, the fit is pretty snug, that’s true. Riding gear is usually very bulky because of all the protective padding and so on. Keeps you safe, but not very easy on the eyes. This is a new brand; instead of just sewing in pads, they somehow weave the protection into the leather itself so that it’s all wearable and fashionable too.“

“It’s very nice”, Jason quickly responded, apparently having given up on attempting to disguise his desire towards Dick altogether. In that case, Dick might just was well go in for the kill.

“Right?! Maybe I can take you out for a ride one day.”

Dick wished he could have taken a snapshot of Jason’s priceless bewildered expression at that casual suggestion. He would have had blackmailing material for the rest of his life. But the night was still young and there was more than one way to collect compromising footage of horny little brothers, as proven by Jason’s answer. “You … w-would?” Now Dick merely had to lay the tracks for his next steps.

“Of course! We’d have to get you your own gear first, though, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I think Wayne Enterprises actually helped with the development of these”, slapping his leather-clad thighs for added effect.

“We did indeed”, Bruce’ suddenly could be heard from the top of the stairs, taking Jason out of his embarrassed misery. “We also contribute to tonight’s charity, for which we will definitely be late if you don’t get changed immediately”, he added in Dick’s direction by the time he had reached the ground floor.

“Nice to see you too, Bruce”, Dick responded, with intentional eat your heart out cheekiness.

Alfred then interrupted, saying, “On the topic of changing, I’ve already laid out your attire for tonight in your room, Master Dick, and I’m afraid Master Bruce is correct. If you’d like to avoid being unfashionably late, I suggest we leave in 30 minutes at the latest, Sirs.”

“No worries, Alfie, I only need 15”, was Dick’s cheerful response, as he bounced up the stairs, making sure his butt cheeks were appropriately shown off to his poor little brother.

As promised, his suit, tie, shirt and dress shoes were all immaculately laid out in Dick’s room. While Dick somewhat reluctantly undressed and took of his gear, he reviewed the last few minutes and his brother’s hormonal odyssey. Had Dick been a teasing troll towards Jason, knowing fully well what effect his appearance might have on the 16-year-old kid? Absolutely. Had he acted out of malice? Absolutely not. In a way, Dick was merely continuing a tradition that had started in school when he himself was 15 the day that Marc had sat down next to him in his leather jacket and had left Dick all flustered and aroused. There was nothing wrong with crushing on good-looking guys in leather clothing, especially if you looked that good yourself, and so if Jason needed a little extra push to learn and accept that, his big bro was more than happy to provide it.

Thus, Dick was not surprised when Jason almost jumped at Dick’s return to the entrance hall 15 minutes later. If he was able to sneak up on the Boy Wonder himself without even trying, the poor kid really had to be experiencing a lot of turmoil right now. Trying to cheer him up, Dick joked, “Still here, Little Wing? Thought you’d be back in Victorian England by now.”

“Oh, ehm, I just wanted to see you off. Don’t have you around here every day”, Jason spluttered.

Genuinely touched by his brother’s kindness, Dick gripped Jason’s shoulder and spoke, “Aww, that’s so nice of you! But don’t worry, we’ll have the whole weekend to hang out.” Under his grip, Dick could feel his Jason’s shoulder tense again, and a quick glance at his brother’s crotch – a glance that Jason was way too rattled to notice – confirmed that he was still anything but soft. Not that Dick could entirely blame him. Even though he had ditched the leather gear, his custom-made suit and wet-look hair still made him sparkle like diamond.

On cue, Bruce and Alfred entered the hall and after a quick goodbye hug stepped through the main doors together with Dick. In a final stroke of genius, Dick glanced over his left shoulder back at Jason right before the doors fell shut, winking at him and calling “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Little Wing!”. Then, with a soft thud, the doors closed, leaving Jason alone to deal with his aroused mess.

Walking over towards the garage, Bruce looked at him with suspicion in his face and asked, “What was that supposed to mean?”

Looking straight ahead, Dick responded innocently, “Exactly what it said. That Jason should not do anything that I would not do in his place, either.”

“And what exactly is it that you would not do? Should I be worried?”

With fake outrage, Dick clutched his non-existent pearls and exclaimed, “Oh Bruce, you wound me! Come on, you know me.”

“I do. That’s why I’m worried”, his father deadpanned.

Grinning, Dick did not push back any further against that pointed remark. Bruce did not need to know how he had temptingly laid out his leather gear across his bed. Neither did he need to know about the tiny recording device he’d quickly borrowed from the Bat Cave and placed strategically hidden amidst his school trophies. Dick wasn’t a connoisseur of classic literature like Jason, but he still remembered the famous slogan from George Orwell’s 1984:

Big Brother is watching you.

Chapter Text

Jason took a big gulp from Alfred’s trademark Earl Grey tea, hoping it would wash away the embarrassed tiredness from last night. He hadn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol in his life, still he imagined that this had to be what a hangover felt like. After he had finished the washing and drying of his cumpromised compromised sweats and briefs last night, Jason had gone back to his room and had attempted to read a few more pages of Wilde. Weirdly enough, he found that visualizing a story about an outrageously handsome young man with the last name Gray did nothing to distract Jason from his previous sexual preDickament predicament. Laying the book aside on his bed table, he switched off the light and let his exhaustion pull him into a quick slumber.

Unfortunately for the confused teenager, his predicament did not stop here. Instead of a deep and restful sleep, his mind and body experienced a dream even more exciting than the waking events of the day. Jason found himself riding a motorbike, even though he hadn’t even gotten his licence yet, decked out in the exact same leather jacket and leather pants that Dick had worn that night. He was beginning to get erect from the realization when suddenly two arms reached around his torso from behind him and started to massage his nipples through the skin-tight leather, eliciting a lustful moan from the 16-year-old who had difficulties concentrating on the high way while being erotically played with. When Jason felt the first drops of precum leaking from his by now rock-hard cock – fuck, how would he get that out of the leather – the hand currently squeezing his right nipple let go and grabbed his boner instead, stroking it roughly through the leather of his biker pants. “Oh god”, Jason yelled, overcome by lust and close to submitting to the skilful manipulations of these two hands. Stealing a quick glance down at the fingers massaging his cock, Jason saw that the hand as well as the muscular arm it was attached to were also wrapped in black, skin-tight leather. But then --- what the fuck?

The leather-gloved hand!

It had the blue finger stripes that Jason knew to be the signature of the Nightwing suit!!!

Trying to twist his upper body around to identify the person that was rubbing him off, Jason found himself unable to move. As he was approaching his climax, he suddenly felt a warm breath against his right cheek and a deep manly voice whisper into his ear, “…Little Wing…”

At that moment, Jason lost control, both of his boner which shot a massive load of cum into his leather crotch and of his bike which crashed into the guardrails and sent the current Robin flying across the street. “Noooo!!”, Jason gasped mid-air as he saw the ground coming closer ---

--- only to find himself sitting upright in his bed at Wayne Manor, sweat pouring down his brows.

It took a few seconds for Jason to calm down and relieve to set in. It had only been a dream! His bedside clock told him it was 3.26 am, which meant that he had at least slept through Bruce, Dick, and Alfred returning from the fundraiser. Thank God, Jason sighed silently. He wouldn’t have been able to face Dick after what had happened in his room last night, and especially not after his most recent dream. It would be awkward enough in the morning, but that was a bridge that Jason was going to cross when he got to it.

He was just about to lie down again when Jason felt a weird sensation between his legs, though. Lifting up the blanket, he saw a wide dark stain tainting his otherwise red PJs in the crotch of his pants, the normally pretty loose fabric sticking tightly to the skin and outlining what was undeniably the Boy Wonder’s manhood. “Fuck”, Jason groaned in a low voice, shame flooding his teenage body yet again. He had jizzed in his sleep! Not all of it had been merely a dream after all. He would definitely need to change into clean PJs before going down to breakfast and once more find a way to get the pants clean himself without Alfred taking note. Otherwise, his careful attempt to cover his tracks last night would have been all for nothing.

Not very surprisingly, Jason was barely able to fall back asleep again after his nocturnal ejaculation, high-key concerned of what else his subconscious had in store for him in la la land next. Freud would have had a field day with him, he grumbled silently, as he turned his body over from side to side, sleep continuously evading him. Eventually, he lulled himself back by reciting the lines from Hamlet’s most famous soliloquy.

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.

When he awoke the next morning, Jason silently slipped out of his soiled PJs and put on some clean ones. Then, trying to make as little noise as possible, he went into his en-suit bathroom and washed out the shameful stain with some soap. Much like Jason’s humiliation, the stain didn’t vanish completely, but it no longer posed a threat once Alfred got his hands on it in the laundry room.

Satisfied with how he had salvaged the embarrassment of his wet dream, Jason finally made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he was greeted by Alfred, a plate of pancakes with a variety of fruits, and a large cup of Earl Grey, which he absolutely needed after his rather shallow and sticky sleep last night.

“Good morning, Master Jason. I hope you had a pleasant evening while we were gone?”

Jason was glad he had his tea to sip, giving him an excuse for the gulp that he couldn’t suppress at the memory of his last night.

When he could speak again, he said, “Good morning, Alfred. Yeah, thanks, very low-key. Did some reading in the library and then went to bed at some point before you came back.”

“I had assumed as much”, Alfred responded as he continued to work around the kitchen. “Although I must admit that it is a pleasant change for once to leave the Manor in the hands of a teenager for a night and not have to worry about the house being in ruins upon one’s return.”

“Why? Any details you’d like to share on that, Alfred?”, Jason peeped up at that teaser, always eager to hear stories about Dick before Jason knew him.

“I’m afraid breakfast is not remotely long enough to tell these stories in their appropriate detail. I might also require a different kind of beverage to brace myself for that particular task. But suffice to say, Master Jason, when your older brother was your age and younger even, chaos was never far behind wherever he went.”

“Did somebody say chaos?”, came Dick’s cheerful voice – a voice far too cheerful for someone on a Saturday morning who had been out last night and had no caffeine in his system yet – around the corner into the kitchen. Dick was wearing dark blue PJ pants and an oversized Superman t-shirt that would surely put Bruce in a foul mood to start off the weekend. Jason couldn’t help but grin, always impressed at his brother’s indomitable A+ trolling, but also relieved that he was currently wearing clothes that weren’t so form-fitting for once. He could only pray that this would continue throughout the next two days.

“Alfred was just telling me about how you always caused chaos when you were left in the Manor unsupervised.”

“Did not!!”, Dick exclaimed with feigned outrage, as he poured himself coffee into a Green Lantern cup that Jason was surprised Bruce had even allowed into the house. Dick was really pushing it this morning, perhaps as a little payback to whatever had happened at the fundraiser last night.

“The broken chandeliers in the ball room say otherwise, Master Grayson”, Alfred commented drily, setting a plate of pancakes at Dick’s seat and then taking a seat himself to read the newspaper.

“Thank you, Alfred, but I will not tolerate this kind of slander in the morning! What do you expect when you hang something shiny and sparkly like that from the ceiling? It is absolutely not my fault that these things weren’t designed with child acrobats in mind. Pretty faulty design in my books.”

“Or perhaps faulty misuse of them”, Jason remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“Little Wing! You’re ssshupposed to defend mmmme herrre!”, Dick mumbled, his mouth filled with pancake.

“But it’s so nice to see you be the accused for once”, Jason simply laughed.

When he had swallowed, Dick raised an eyebrow himself and continued, “Well, if we’re playing that game: how was your night, Jason? What fun did you have if you if didn’t destroy the Manor’s interior?”

Now it was Jason’s turn to collect himself before answering. “Nothing exciting. Just reading”, he said, looking down at his plate in an attempt not to blush.

“Just reading, huh? Must have been a pretty good book if it knocked you out so much that you went to bed before we even came back.”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.”

“Oh, that’s the one about the guy and his magical portrait that absorbs all his sins and keeps him young forever, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my favourite”, Jason admitted shyly.

“Cool! I always love a story about a good guy who discovers his edgy side”, Dick spoke in Jason’s direction with a strange look on his face.

Trying to ignore Dick’s weird expression and what it might suggest, Jason just rolled his eyes at his brother’s description of the novel. “Well, I’m not sure I’d call ‘murdering innocent people’ and basically ‘selling your soul to the devil’ edgy.”

“I doubt that Mr Wilde would, either”, came Alfred’s voice from behind the newspaper.

“Details”, Dick merely responded with a hand-wavy gesture. “I just hope this dark story didn’t give you any bad dreams, Little Wing”, his eyebrows once again raised suspiciously over the brim of his coffee cup. What the hell was Dick implying? Why did he refer to his dreams? It was almost as if he knew something, something about last night that Jason would rather keep a secret.

But Jason had left no trace in Dick’s room behind. He’d placed his leather jacket and pants exactly where and how he’d found them. Dick was just teasing him, like he always did. There was simply no way he could know…

… or was there?

“I slept … fine”, Jason said in a small voice, trying not to let the building unease inside of him shine through.

“Great!”, Dick exclaimed cheerfully, all investigatory suspicion suddenly gone from his voice. “We can’t have you tired and exhausted for what I have planned today!”

“And what do my sons have planned for today?”, the sleepy voice of Bruce Wayne grunted, as he entered the kitchen in a dark bathrobe to a “Good Morning, Master Bruce” from Alfred, but then stopped abruptly. The deadly expression that spread across his face upon seeing Dick’s t-shirt and his coffee cup could have given the famous Bat Glare a run for its money.

“We’re going on a little road trip, Jason and I!”, Dick countered Bruce’s stare with his typical shit-eating grin.

Suddenly, heat began to rise across Jason’s body. If Dick wanted to go on a road trip with him, would that mean that they’d take Dick’s bike?!

Jason was glad that his groin was currently concealed by the breakfast table so that no one could see the nervous bulge that was rising there. He had already experienced what effect Dick’s leather gear had on him if he merely hugged him for a few seconds. If he had to cling onto Dick’s leather-clad muscles for a prolonged period time while speeding down the high way … well, Jason’s upcoming day would get even wetter than the previous night.

“Where to?”, Bruce asked as he sat down next to Alfred, pouring himself some coffee too, pointedly ignoring Dick's choice of clothes and crockery.

“That will be my surprise for Little Wing. Oh, on that note: Could I borrow the Buick for the trip? I came here on my Triumph and Jason’s doesn’t have any gear yet.”

Yet?!, Jason screamed silently. What was that supposed to mean?

Dick apparently took Bruce’s coffee-muffled grunt as a ‘yes’ to his question and thanked him effusively. Jason’s excitement, meanwhile, somewhat subsided again, having avoided his biggest dream nightmare for the time being: riding a bike with leather-clad Dick Grayson. It would still be awkward AF hanging out with Dick all day in what would surely be tighter clothes than the ones he was wearing right now. Still, the further Jason remained away from Dick’s leather gear, the better. A regularly dressed Dick was still more manageable than a leather-clad dick Dick.

“Great! Can you be ready in an hour?”, Dick asked, turning back to Jason.

“Sure”, Jason responded hesitantly, still slightly wary of Dick’s mysterious road trip plans. “Anything I should bring for the road?”

“Nope, nothing at all”, Dick leaned back in his chair and put his hands smugly behind the back of his head – which did absolutely not cause Jason to stare at Dick’s bulging biceps. Then, with a grin that stuck Jason as the tiniest bit too knowing for the 16-year-old’s liking, his brother added, “Just yourself, Little Wing, just yourself.”

About an hour later, Dick and Jason were driving along the highway in Bruce’s Buick, pop music playing on the speakers. Since it was a pretty warm early-autumn day, Jason was wearing a loose-fitted Gotham Knights t-shirt, while Dick – much to Jason’s visual delight discomfort – had opted, as expected, for a slim-fitted baby blue t-shirt that not only emphasized the oceanic blue of his eyes, but also his toned chest. Seriously, Jason thought as he deliberately tried not to look at his brother, does this guy own any clothes that don’t look like he has to peel them off at night?! Dick at least seemed to take no note of Jason’s turmoil as sang along to ‘There’s nothing holding me back’ by Shawn Mendes.

After some time, Jason recognized the traffic signs at the edge of the high way. “Wait a minute – are we going to Blüdhaven?”, he turned to Dick in confusion.

“We sure are, Little Wing!”, his brother grinned excitedly.

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why? Why did you come to Gotham and say you’d spend the weekend at the Manor, only to then drive us to Blüdhaven the very next day? That doesn’t make any sense, Dick.”

“Oh, it definitely will once we’ve reached our destination.”

“Which is?”

“Nope, a surprise, remember?”

Frustration building in him, Jason huffed and deliberately looked back in the other direction again. Suddenly he felt Dick’s firm hand grab his left shoulder and Jason had to fight the urge to whip his head around, let alone gasp.

“Don’t worry, Little Wing. I promise you will love it, no doubts about it. When we’re there, it will all be worth it.”

Jason kept his head turned away from Dick, breathing deeply to keep himself calm, until finally, thankfully, Dick let go of his shoulder again. The 16-year-old really had no idea why all of a sudden his brother, who had never had any effect on him in the past, suddenly made him go crazy with a mere touch – all because he had seen and touched and even smelled his stupid leather gear.

Half an hour later, they left the high way and made their slow, stop-and-go way into Blüdhaven. Knowing the city quite well by now from his various visits, Jason was surprised that they weren’t headed for the city centre. Instead, Dick drove them to what looked like a refurbished industrial area on the outskirts of town. Dick stopped the car outside of an old red-stone factory building and cheered, “We’re here!”, before excitedly getting out. Jason warily followed him and saw that what had looked like an old factory to him was actually a store of some kind. A dark blue sign with fine silver letters announcing URBAN KNIGHTS hang above the door.

“What is this place?”, Jason asked in confusion.

“This, Little Wing, is Urban Knights, the brand of my biker clothes.”

Oh no, Jason gulped, now remembering the brand tag in Dick’s jacket that he had paid no attention to last night. This was bad, and this could only mean one thing, a fear that was promptly confirmed by Dick throwing his arm across his brother’s shoulders.

“Today, we’re gonna get you your own biker gear.”

This could not be happening. On the inside, Jason wanted to both shout from the rooftops in excitement at the prospect of actually getting his own leather clothes, but also to run away and hide in shame. The little remains he had left of his sexual self-control were about to turn into dust as soon as any genuine leather touched his skin, and his brother of all people was to bear witness to it.

Chuckling at Jason’s speechlessness, Dick moved towards the entrance. Jason, however, remained rooted to the spot and slowly took in the large window next to the door. It was filled with a panorama image of a young, strikingly handsome man, dressed in slim leather clothes and sitting atop a motorbike, his dark hair fashionably tousled by the wind and warmed by the sunset in the background of the image. The words ‘Take a Ride’ were printed next to biker. Taking a step towards the window, Jason had a closer look at the man in the image, only to realize with pure shock that ---

“OH MY GOD – IS THAT YOU, DICK?!”

Almost through the door, Dick turned back around and looked at the window as if he hadn’t noticed it before. “Wait, is what me, Little Wing?” Then Dick noticed the image and laughed out loud.

“Hahaha, oh wow, yeah that’s me alright!”

Even though Jason had read every English novel of importance that the 19^th century had produced, all that his literate mind could muster in that moment was What the actual fuck?!, which his mouth translated a few seconds later into, “So you’re – what – a model now, too?!”

“Kind of, but not really”, Dick said, his reflection smiling in the window right next to his image on the bike. “I was one of their first customers. Some Paparazzi took shots of me out and about in their clothes and apparently sales skyrocketed after that. Celebrity endorsement and all, you know? So, they approached me and asked if I’d like to be the face of their next campaign, and I figured ‘why not’? The shoot was a lot of fun, and the photos turned out great, didn’t they?”

Jason said nothing, but in his reluctant silence he had to agree. No wonder that sales went up after people saw Dick in these clothes. Looking at his confident pose and the smouldering yet composed expression on his face, you would never know that this man had never modelled before in his life. What’s worse, it was the kind of photo that if Jason happened upon it in a magazine, he would definitely jerk off to in his room later. If only the man in question were not his freaking brother!

Snapping him back to reality, Dick laid his arm across Jason again and pulled him towards the door and into the store where they were greeted by rock music playing lowly in the background and a handsome blond man with tattoos across his muscular arms walking towards them. “Dick!”, the man, who was wearing a slim black t-shirt and matching black skinny jeans, called with a wide grin, “long time no see. How you been doing, man?” They clasped each others’ hands, exchanging knowing looks that communicated to Jason that they knew one another well. “Caleb, so good to see you again! Thanks, I’m doing fine.” Very well indeed, the detective in Jason deduced. “Especially after seeing the photo spread outside.”

“Oh yeah, we officially launched the campaign last month. There’s a big promo event coming up next month that we’d love to invite you to, our assistant will email you all about it. The response to the campaign has been incredible so far. Social media traffic is through the roof and sales are reaching new peaks too. Seems like people can’t get enough of you in our clothes and want to 'Take a Ride' themselves. Not that I can blame them”, he added with a wink. Lo and behold, was that a blush on Dick Grayson’s face?

“Well, they are very nice to wear, not gonna lie”, Dick grinned back at Caleb.

“On that note, what brings you to Urban Knights on this fine Saturday? Looking for a new set of gear?”

“Surprisingly, no. Today, I’m on a mission not for myself, but for this strapping young fellow right here”, Dick spoke, grasping Jason’s shoulder again and looking down at him warmly, “who also happens to be my little brother, Jason.”

Understanding dawned on Caleb’s face as he took in Jason and shook his hand, showcasing a grip just as strong as Dick’s and making Jason blush again. Deep breaths, he thought, Deep breaths…

“Of course, the famous Jason Todd!! Dick told me so much about you! So honoured to finally meet you! I’m Caleb, one of the co-directors of Urban Knights.”

“P-p-pleased to meet you, t-too”, Jason stuttered nervously.

“Oh, so you’ve been promoted, Caleb? Congratulations, man!” Dick cheered, giving the blond man a quick, but firm hug.

“Thanks, Dick! Yeah, well, you know, bringing in the face of the campaign that basically ends up launching your entire brand does make you popular with the CEO. Speaking of our brand”, with those words, Caleb turned back towards Jason, whose face was still flushed a bright red. “Do you already have something in mind, or would you like to look around first?”

Once again, it was Dick who responded. “Well, I was thinking of the Midnight collection, that’s my favourite. Do you still have a jacket and pants in his size, or is it all sold out already?”

Gazing Jason up and down, which shot an irrepressible flare of excitement into the teenager's groin, Caleb spoke, “I’m sure we still have some in stock. Let me check, I’ll be right back.”

While they waited, Dick strolled around the store lazily, mingling with the other customers, who were mostly middle-aged men, while Jason let his gaze wander. Across the red brick walls, metal racks were filled with hangers of various jackets and pants, all made out of leather. It was only now that Jason realized the heavy, deep scent of leather in the air which made the excitement mounting below his belt even harder more difficult to deny. After a couple of minutes, Caleb came back, holding in his hands a pair of leather pants and a leather jacket that both looked identical to the ones that Dick had worn yesterday.

“These should fit you”, he smiled, handing over the two pieces to Jason, who bit his tongue not to moan once his fingers made contact with the supple fabric. Almost in trance and unable to speak, Dick then directed him slowly towards the changing rooms at the back of the store, which were otherwise unoccupied. Before Jason knew what was happening, he stared at himself in the mirror, a pair of Urban Knights leather pants in his left hand and a matching jacket in his right. Finally on his own, he closed his eyes and let the moan he had been holding in escape his lips. When he opened his eyes again, an unmistakable tent was adorning his denim crotch.

Understanding that there was no way out of this mess, Jason decided to make a strategy. Since he had already tried on Dick’s jacket last night and knew what it felt like, Jason figured that it would be easier to put on the jacket first. Laying the pants carefully on the stool, Jason slowly slipped on the jacket and ---

FUCK!!!

 Even more so than last night, Jason’s arms and shoulders felt like they were dipped into dark wearable butter, all sleek and smooth on his skin. Hugging himself, Jason noticed that the tight material fitted his toned muscles perfectly and realized what difference the correct size could make in a leather jacket, thinking back to Dick’s slightly too large jacket. Staring at himself in the mirror right now, though, Jason looked like the shiny blackness had been painted right onto his broad shoulders. It fit perfectly. What’s more, Jason once again couldn’t detect any padding whatsoever, just like Dick had promised – biker or not, Jason would only ever put off this jacket again when he absolutely had to.

Okay, that was step one, Jason sighed. The second one would be way more challenging, he thought, his eyes moving towards the pants on the stool. Nervously, Jason opened the fly of his jeans, revealing a rock-hard boner and gently pulled off his trousers, careful not to add any extra friction to his throbbing genitals. Then he tentatively picked up the leather pants, breathing deeply while he did so. Bowing forward, Jason first slipped his right leg into the pants and then the left, and instantly a load moan erupted from his traitorous mouth. “Uurrngghhhh”. Jason hadn’t even buttoned up his pants yet, but the tight pressure of the cold leather against his warm legs was more than enough to send his overstimulated teenage body into overdrive. Not even in his wettest dreams could he have possibly imagined how thrilling, how exhilarating, how fucking LIFE-CHANGING the sensation of his bare legs clad in skin-tight leather pants would be.

Suddenly, Jason could hear someone clear his throat on the other side of the curtain. “Jason, are you alright?” Oh God, it was Dick! He must not see me like this, Jason panicked silently. “Ahh, yeah, I’m al-r-r-right”, he stammered, his voice deceptively higher than usual, “just need another minute”.

With shaking fingers, Jason’s hands fumbled with the fly of his pants, trying to button himself up – which was not made any easier by the rigid shaft protruding from his crotch. When he somehow finished the final button and his boner was fully encased in the tight leather, Jason let out another high-pitched whimper, sensing that his leather-clad bulge was a rim-filled barrage of cum waiting to break at any second.

“Jason, what’s wrong?”, he heard Dick ask. Jason’s nervous “N-nothing” failed to appease his older brother. “Bullshit, something’s clearly wrong. I’m coming in.”

“NO!!!”, Jason yelped, as Dick pulled away the curtain and Jason turned towards him, his hands swiftly flying towards his crotch to conceal his tenting embarrassment.

Dick paused, taking in his brother’s appearance. After a few seconds, he said in amazement, “Wow, Jason, you look … incredible. The gear fits you perfectly. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

“No, I haven’t, and I won’t until you leave me alone, so would you PLEASE step back and close the curtain again?!"

“What the hell is your problem, Jason?”

Only then did Dick seem to notice how his brother’s hands were strategically placed in front of his crotch.

“Oh.” The concern and confusion on his face quickly gave way to a smirk.

“Something wrong with your pants, Little Wing?”

“No, everything’s fine!”

“Then there’s nothing to hide, is there?”

With a soft gesture, Dick pulled Jason’s hands away, provoking a whimpering protest from the current Boy Wonder and revealing his tenting leather bulge.

“See? Just like I said, nothing to hide”, Dick said smugly, but without any malice in his voice.

Drowning in shame, Jason’s face turned redder than the Flash’s suit, and pleaded, “Dick!”, though whether it was a plea for Dick to stop or continue playing with his brother neither Boy Wonder seemed to know.

“Hey, relax. I know exactly how good this feels and that it is nothing to be ashamed of.” With those words, Dick let his right index finger slide back and forth along the underside of Jason’s leather-clad cock, making the teenager moan loudly. The touch of Dick’s finger on his shaft was softer than a feather, still Jason felt like he was being swept away in a tsunami of desire that would drown him soon. “It does feel good, doesn’t it?”, Dick purred lowly, only making Jason’s surging arousal worse.

After a few more moans, the teenager finally found his voice again. “Yeah, urrgghh. So good that I’ll shoot if you don’t stop immediately!”, Jason groaned through gritted teeth.

“Well, I don’t think Caleb would be happy about that”, Dick chuckled and indeed stopped caressing Jason’s cock. Jason pretended not to notice how his crotch involuntarily swayed in the direction of Dick’s retracting hand, and he desperate hoped that Dick hadn’t either. Instead, his big brother turned the agitated boy around so that he finally saw himself in the mirror, decked out head to toe in black leather, with a smirking Dick beside him.

“Wow”, Jason whispered softly. He did look incredible. Like the sexiest teenage leather rebel that the world had ever seen. The shiny darkness of the leather not only emphasized his ripped body, but also the darkness of his hair. Now, Jason was exactly the type of guy that he always dreamt of dating from the moment he had realized he was into guys years ago. Dick’s voice brought him out of his amazed trance.

“Now you see what I mean? Little brother or not, Jason, you are a handsome young man who shouldn’t have to hide his own appeal behind oversized shirts and hoodies. You deserve to be sexy in your own right, and if this gear helps you understand and accept that, then it’s yours.”

Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dick Grayson, one of the sexiest men in the country – hell, the sexiest superhero on the goddamn planet – was calling him handsome? Even sexy?! Jason would have been certain that he was dreaming – if the very real pressure of his boner straining against the tight leather of his pants didn’t remind him that he was most definitely not asleep.

“But this is way too expensive, Dick, I could never accept that!". Even after four years of living with one of the wealthiest men in the world, Jason's memories of living on the street still had a humbling hold on him and continuously reminded him of how lucky and privileged he was.

“Think of it as a belated present for all of your birthdays that we couldn’t celebrate together. Besides, I can’t have you sneak into my room and play with my gear every time I’m not looking.”

“WHAT?!?!”

Jason spun his head around so fast he was lucky that it didn’t give him whiplash. His brightly red face met with Dick’s phone which was showing footage from last night of a shirtless Jason pulling on Dick’s jacket.

No no no no no – this couldn’t be true!! How the fuck had he not noticed the camera last night?! What kind of detective was he? This meant that Dick had seen everything. EVERYTHING. From Jason undressing his upper body to putting on Dick’s leather jacket to sniffing at Dick’s leather pants to --- SHIT! How would his brother ever take him seriously again and not shy away in embarrassment of the pervert that Jason had revealed himself to be?!

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he could detect none of that embarrassment in the face of the original Boy Wonder right now, only calmness and gentleness.

“How did you --- “, but Jason’s voice broke off in ashamed disbelief.

“Little Wing, I’ve known our Dad much longer than you and I’ve learnt a lesson or two about body language and hidden cameras along the way. I just needed to test my theory, and the recording I saw definitely confirmed it. Also, there was a cute guy in my class at GA who wore leather jackets too and got me riled up just like you last night. I knew what was going on inside of you almost from the moment I saw you in the entrance hall, and I want you to know that that’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.”

It took Jason a moment to process the words Dick had just uttered. “But Dick,”, he then asked him nervously when his voice had returned to him, “even if you buy me this gear and I learn how to drive, how do I even put this on without…”

“… without immediately busting your nuts in it?”, Dick finished Jason’s sentence with a knowingly crooked mouth, putting his phone back into the pockets of his jeans. “Haha, don’t worry about it, I’ll teach you. It was exactly the same for me. First ride in my leathers, I had to stop at a service station to jerk off in the toilets because otherwise I would have cum right there and then in my pants on the high way. Eventually it got better though. Mind you, it wasn’t easy, and I daresay it won’t be easy for you either, but trust me, you’ll get there, just like I did. During the week you’ll take lessons to get your driver’s licence, and on the weekends, we’ll ride around together on my Triumph in both our gears. That way, you’ll learn how to truly enjoy your leathers and not just worry about soiling them all the time.”

This … actually sounded like a feasible plan to Jason. If Dick had gone through the same experience and knew what Jason was feeling right now, then he would also know how to manage those feelings without losing control over them. It all made sense now. The teasing and trolling, the laid-out gear, the road trip.

Jason was floored by his brother’s unspeakable kindness, his thoughtfulness, his empathy. He hadn’t tried to humiliate and embarrass Jason, but to understand and help him. Dick’s monologue had captured Jason's attention so thoroughly that even his cock had softened again. After a minute of stunned silence, Jason finally spoke, “Why are you doing this, Dick? You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know I don’t, but I want to. I know from experience how confusing and terrifying it can be as a teenage boy to realize that you’re into guys and leather. In my days, I didn’t have anyone to guide me through that confusion. I had to deal with it all by myself which can be tough, especially when you’re constantly in the spotlight like us." Jason could tell from the way Dick's eyes drifted briefly away from his that there was a lot of past anxiety buried underneath that statement. He had only ever known Dick as out and proud about his sexuality, so it was difficult to imagine that he'd once been a lonely boy in the closet, too. "So, if I can be that guide to you and ease things up a bit for you, then I’ll do that.” In a whisper, Dick added, “From one Robin to another”.

A silent tear of gratitude rolled down Jason’s flushed cheeks, which he quickly swiped away when Caleb appeared in his vision behind Dick.

“So, how do they fit?”

“To perfection”, Dick said, stepping aside to reveal Jason in his leather gear.

“Perfection indeed”, Caleb spoke appreciatively, and then taking a step back and beholding Dick and Jason in alternation, “Damn, are you sure you’re just adoptive brothers? Good looks seem to run in your family.”

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, Dick threw his arms over Jason’s neck again. Strangely enough, this time Jason’s cock remained civilized as his older brother’s hands clasped the tight leather of the Urban Knights jacket still wrapped around his body. When Jason looked up towards him, the shiny blue eyes that he met exuded nothing but pure, unadulterated love.

“Adoptive or not, he’s my Little Wing.”

Chapter Text

“Alright, good night, Bruce, good night, Alfred”, Dick spoke over his shoulder in the direction of his parent and butler, who still stood in the entrance hall and reciprocated his nightly well-wishes. As Dick made his up the stair case, he loosened the tie around his slim white dress shirt, pulled off his jacket and recapped the night’s events in his head.

As far as Gotham fundraisers went, this one had been pretty unspectacular, as a whole. The photographers had gone crazy upon their arrival as usual, screaming at them to look this way and that way. Being the born showman that he was, Dick had gifted them with his most charming smile. Once inside, every socialite parent in the building with a child close to his age had started chatting him up and making introductions, hoping in vain to somehow get their family fortunes involved with the Wayne billions and then having their hopes brutally crushed when Dick mentioned casually that he had a boyfriend - although Wally and him were actually in an open relationship, but that was none of the gold diggers' concerns,. Dick always took these conversations lightly, enjoying in particular how he could use his charisma and good looks to uncover the closeted gay guys among the crowd. Tonight, he had actually exchanged numbers with Annabelle, a 22-year-old law student from the UK, one of the rare people at these events who seemed more interested in Dick’s personality than in his body or future inheritance. He would definitely keep in touch with afterwards.

Later on, Dick had just been in a flirty chat with Xavier, a handsome Spanish waiter working at the event, when Bruce had so rudely interrupted their conversation by announcing that they were leaving before they had time to get each other’s contacts. Maybe he could obtain them through the catering service, Dick thought on his way towards the exit, throwing one last glance back at Xavier who would arguably be up to Wally’s taste for another threesome. Sure, Dick could have stayed on by himself and just have taken a taxi later, but from experience, it never looked good in the press to leave separately or, even worse, to make a scene when there were so many cameras around. Either way, Dick would have to find some way to get back at Bruce for cutting his chat with Xavier so ruefully short.

Upon their return to the Manor, Jason had been nowhere in sight, which had led Bruce and Alfred to presume that he’d gone to bed early. When Dick reached the gallery with the family bed rooms, he gently took a peek inside Jason’s room, careful not to make a sound, and as expected saw the black-haired lump on the bed, seemingly fast asleep. Dick smiled as he silently closed the door again and sent a quick text to Bruce downstairs saying that ‘Jay's in bed, pls stay quiet’. He then moved on to his own room.

Everything seemed to be just as he had left them. His leather pants and leather jacket were still laying on the duvet. With a sigh, Dick couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of disappointment. After his earlier encounter with Jason, who had turned into a flustered hormonal mess at seeing Dick in his leather gear, he could have sworn that the current Boy Wonder definitely had a thing not just for guys in general, but for guys in leather in particular, just like his older brother. Somewhat dismayed, Dick walked over to his desk, retrieved the hidden camera from his trophies and activated its Bluetooth function. Once linked up, Dick transferred tonight’s recording onto his phone, sat down onto his bed, and hit play.

For the first few minutes, nothing noteworthy could be seen, aside from a black-and-white, slightly blurry, downward angle of his room. But then, the door opened, and Jason stepped in, walking hesitantly towards the bed and putting his hands on Dick’s gear! So I was right, he cheered silently, sitting up straight and eager to see what happened next. After a few seconds, Jason pulled off his sweater and t-shirt and instead put on Dick’s leather jacket, slightly throwing his head back and hugging himself in the jacket. Unfortunately, the recording had no audio but Dick could all but hear the groan that had to be coming forth from his teenage brother. Neither did he need to stop the video and zoom in to spot the boner that the 16-year-old had popped in his grey sweat pants.

Seemingly getting an idea, Jason then left the room, giving Dick a moment to process what he’d just seen. Two things became crystal clear. Firstly, his theory about Jason being in the closet and into guys and leather was absolutely correct. Now Dick just had to find a way to help him out of the closet without traumatizing the kid for the rest of his life. Secondly, Jason looked positively stunning in leather, despite the shitty quality of the recording; the epitome of a rugged bad boy with a heart of gold. If that kind of guy had walked into Dick’s class at GA, he would have had an even harder time - literally and figuratively - than he’d already had with Marc and his leather jacket. If Jason wouldn’t realize by himself how much of a teenage dreamboat he truly was, then Dick would find a way to make him see the light. Just a big bro helping out his little bro, nothing more.

After a few minutes, Jason reappeared in the frame of the camera, still wearing his leather-jacket and still rock-hard. He walked over to the bed, hesitated for a second, and then picked up Dick’s leather pants and lifted its crotch to his nose. Dick had experienced enough orgasms himself to immediately recognize the way Jason’s body tensed up next for what it was, and sure enough, a few seconds later, dark traces of cum could be seen pouring down Jason’s light grey sweats. Dick smirked and felt a slight twitch in his pants himself, the footage bringing back memories of how his own body had reacted to its first encounter with the irresistible trousers from Urban Knights. He watched the remaining video showing how Jason carefully put Dick’s gear back in place, checked the scene for any stray cum shots and then left again.

Pretty turned on himself by now, Dick quickly undressed to his briefs, which he pulled down to his ankles, fell back on the bed, and closed his eyes. Then he grabbed his by-now hard cock with his right hand, while the other started to play with his left nipple, and jerked himself off, his mind drifting back to his very first ride of his Triumph in the Urban Knights leathers. It didn’t take long for Dick to shoot a huge load of cum all over his eight-pack abs and chest. Moaning pleasurably, he massaged his manly juices with both hands into his ripped muscles, knowing from experience that there was no better body lotion than the lotion that his body produced naturally. Then he pulled his briefs back up, laid his leather gear on the chair by the desk and slipped under the sheets. Soon, a deep, contented sleep engulfed the original Boy Wonder.

The sun was already breaking through window by the time Dick stirred in bed the next morning. The exhaustion of his orgasm right before going to bed had definitely served him well in dropping like a stone. Stretching his muscular limbs, Dick got out from under his sheets and walked over to the closet. While Dick usually slept just in his underwear, he always kept some spare PJs and bed clothes in his room just in case. Opening the drawer, he picked out dark blue PJ pants and an oversized Superman t-shirt. Dick couldn’t help but smirk in anticipation of the face that this would cast on Bruce’s face. Serves him right for cutting me off from Xavier, Dick mused pettily.

Checking himself in the mirror and deciding that he was sufficiently dressed, he made his way down towards the kitchen. He was just about to turn the corner when he heard the stately British accent of Alfred Pennyworth say, “…chaos was never far behind wherever he went.”

As if on cue, Dick bent the corner and announced cheerfully, “Did somebody say chaos?” Jason was already seated at the table, a plate of pancakes of fruit as well as cup of Earl Grey in front of him, while Alfred was busy in the background as always.

Jason looked up excitedly at him, a sly grin on his face. “Alfred was just telling me about how you always caused chaos when you were left in the Manor unsupervised.” No trace of last night’s sexual turmoil could be seen on him. For now.

“Did not!!”, Dick retorted indignantly, figuring that a mere Superman shirt wouldn’t be enough punishment for Bruce in his own house and picking a Green Lantern cup from the back of the cupboard. Pouring himself some coffee, he sat down while Alfred served him another plate of pancake and asserted that “The broken chandeliers in the ball room say otherwise, Master Grayson”. Concluding he had thrown enough shade, the butler then disappeared behind his morning newspaper.

That kind of attack needed to be retaliated.

“I will not tolerate this kind of slander in the morning! What do you expect when you hang something shiny and sparkly like that from the ceiling? It is absolutely not my fault that these things weren’t designed with child acrobats in mind. Pretty faulty design in my books.” After that comeback, he had surely earned himself a fair serving of pancake.

But because his brother was apparently a little shit who couldn’t leave things alone, Jason shot back, “Or perhaps faulty misuse of them.”

His mouth stuffed with pancake and strawberries, Dick could only mumble back, “Little Wing! You’re ssshupposed to defend mmmme herrre!”.

“But it’s so nice to see you be the accused for once”, the 16-year-old devil had the audacity to laugh. Okay, Dick decided, he had tried to keep things cool and civilized, but if Jason wanted to dance, it takes two to tango.

 “Well, if we’re playing that game: how was your night, Jason? What fun did you have if you if didn’t destroy the Manor’s interior?”

Those questions successfully made Jason stumble upon his words, bringing a smirk to Dick’s face.

 “Nothing exciting. Just reading”. Judging by what Dick had seen on his phone, Jason’s night had been very much exciting, literally and figuratively. But the blush on Jason’s cheeks had opened the door that Dick had looked for, and now he just had to walk through it.

“Just reading, huh? Must have been a pretty good book if it knocked you out so much that you went to bed before we even came back.” Or perhaps something else knocked you out, huh?, Dick added silently.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.”

To Dick’s own surprise, he actually knew that one pretty well from his own school days.

“Oh, that’s the one about the guy and his magical portrait that absorbs all his sins and keeps him young forever, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my favourite”, came Jason’s soft response, almost as if embarrassed by his own taste. Damn, Dick pitied his brother, if he were that well-read at 16, he would shove his literary expertise in everybody’s faces, especially his nosy older brother's.

“Cool! I always love a story about a good guy who discovers his edgy side”, Dick lured him, wondering if Jason would catch his not-very-subtle hint at a good boy turned bad boy.

Based on his demonstrative eye roll, though, it didn’t, and Jason simply commented, “Well, I’m not sure I’d call ‘murdering innocent people’ and basically ‘selling your soul to the devil’ edgy.”

Because being read by his little brother wasn’t enough, now his butler/grandfather had to pile on too, scoffing, “I doubt that Mr Wilde would, either.”

“Details”, Dick waved their critiques away and concluded that offence was the best defence. “I just hope this dark story didn’t give you any bad dreams, Little Wing”. The scrutinizing expression that accompanied his words once more made Jason hesitate. The seed of doubt had been successfully sown in his brother’s psyche.

“I slept … fine”, was all that Jason could muster.

Determining that his brother had suffered enough, Dick lifted the tension and called “Great! We can’t have you tired and exhausted for what I have planned today!”

At that moment, a very tired looking Bruce Wayne entered the kitchen and mumbled, “And what do my sons have planned for today?” The death stare he earned from his father when he saw his t-shirt and coffee cup already made Dick’s entire weekend.

“We’re going on a little road trip, Jason and I!”, Dick cheered unabashedly in Bruce’s direction.

“Where to?”, Bruce inquired, sitting down next to Alfred, pouring himself what looked like some much needed some coffee.

“That will be my surprise for Little Wing. Oh, on that note: Could I borrow the Buick for the trip? I came here on my Triumph and Jason’s doesn’t have any gear yet.”

It took Bruce a second before he grunted, “Yes” over the brim of his coffee cup. “Thank you so much, that’s too kind!”, Dick showered him with gratitude, even though there were so many cars in the garage that Bruce hardly would have noticed if one of them had gone missing for a few hours. Looking over to his brother, Dick saw that Jason’s face was flushed all over, though he failed to see why. For once, he hadn’t intentionally tried to tease his little brother, so there was no reason to be embarrassed this time. Unless…

Unless Jason had feared that they’d take his Triumph instead of a car and that he would have to cling onto Dick’s leather-clad body for a longer stretch of time?

Feared? Or hoped? Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we, Little Wing, Dick mused in his mind, before asking his brother out loud, “Great! Can you be ready in an hour?”

“Sure”, Jason answered, his face still aflush. “Anything I should bring for the road?”

“Nope, nothing at all, just yourself, Little Wing, just yourself”, Dick smiled, and he meant it, leaning back in his chair, putting his hands behind the back of his head, and flexing his guns ever so slightly. If Jason wanted to hide the way his eyes widened at the image of Dick’s bulging biceps, he was doing a piss poor job of it, which did bode pretty well for the rest of day. Judging by the video of Jason on his phone and his deer-in-the-headlights eyes opposite him, there would soon be more bulging muscles than just biceps. But if that’s what it took for the current Robin to come out of his shell and spread his wings, Dick figured, then so it had to be.

About an hour later, Dick and Jason were sitting in Bruce’s Buick, pop music playing on the speakers, and the warm, late summer air breezing in through the slightly opened windows and ruffling their dark hairs. To Dick’s frustration, Jason was wearing a Gotham Knights t-shirt, the loose fit of which once more buried even the flimsiest suggestion of the ripped teenage body that was hiding underneath. Dick seriously was at his wits’ end. Jason was sexy AF; the footage of him shirtless underneath Dick’s leather jacket, no matter how blurry, had all but confirmed it. After last night, Dick was also certain that Jason definitely liked guys and would practically start drooling if a guy as handsome as the 16-year-old himself would cross his path. Then why was he still acting so cagey about it? It seemed almost as if Jason didn’t want to allow himself to be a sexual being who could be open about and at ease with his own desires and fantasies. When he’d suggested to Jason in the entrance hall last night that they could get him his own gear and then take a ride on his bike together one day, he hadn’t actually meant that same weekend, but the footage from last night called for more urgent measures. If his own Urban Knights leathers wouldn’t make Jason loosen up, then nothing ever would. Of course, Dick would never force his little brother into something that he didn’t want or felt uncomfortable about. Still, he knew from his own school days what the teenager was going through right now and if he continued to suppress his desires or act like they didn’t exist, things would only get worse. Jason needed to learn that his own sexuality was nothing to be ashamed of, and Dick was there to help him with that lesson.

That’s why he hadn’t been able to stop himself from putting on a slim-fitted baby blue t-shirt that had earned him another yearning stare from his little brother. Once more, Dick had had to force down the sigh of exasperation that had risen in him that moment. Honestly, didn’t Jason realize that he could look just like Dick if he just chose too? After that, their drive had been mostly silent so far, with Dick humming and sometimes even singing along to the pop songs on the radio. Right now, it was ‘There’s nothing holding me back’ by Shawn Mendes, which immediately brought back the insanely hot images of the Canadian heartthrob at last year’s MET gala into Dick’s head. A slim black leather blazer underneath which the singer had been shirtless, openly showing off his ripped oily abs to the assembled press. Dick had instantly popped a boner when he had seen the outfit and wanted to try it out himself, though he would have ditched the black dress pants for a matching pair of leather pants too. Unfortunately, most social events in Gotham were too conservative in their dress code for such a bold fashion choice, but maybe at next year’s Wayne Foundation Ball? After all, if you’re the organizer of the damn event, you can wear whatever you want, right? Photos of a shirtless Dick Grayson in a leather suit would certainly spice up the party and be the talk of the town the next day. Heck, they might even invite Shawn Mendes himself to attend and perform. Dick would definitely appreciate that, as would Jason – whether he’d admit it or not. That way, Dick could also test if Shawn really was as straight as he’d always claimed.

Dick’s daydream about black leather and Canadian abs was interrupted out of nowhere when Jason asked,  “Wait a minute – are we going to Blüdhaven?”

“We sure are, Little Wing!”, Dick responded, a grin that hopefully wasn’t too threatening on his face

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why? Why did you come to Gotham and said you’d spend the weekend at the Manor, only to then drive us to Blüdhaven the very next day? That doesn’t make any sense, Dick.”

Oh you poor, sweet summer child, Dick sighed inwardly.

“Oh, it definitely will once we’ve reached our destination.”

Jason still didn’t seem convinced.

“Which is?”

“Nope”, Dick evaded, adding extra emphasis to the ‘p’, “a surprise, remember?”

Jason turned the other way with a frustrated huff, triggering Dick’s bad conscience. He knew he was trying his brother’s patience, but this was the only way that his plan would work. If Dick told Jason where they were going right now, the 16-year-old wouldn’t stop making a fuss until they were back on their way towards the Manor. Dick simply had to throw Jason into cold water and hope that the not-so-little Robin would learn how to swim. Trying to cheer him up, he grabbed his brother’s shoulder, feeling his body go tense once more, and said, “Don’t worry, Little Wing. I promise you will love it, no doubts about it. When we’re there, it will all be worth it.”

About 40 minutes later, Dick brought to Buick to a hold outside the familiar Urban Knights store. Excitedly, he exclaimed, “We’re here!” Jason followed warily and, once on the pavement, prompted, “What is this place?”, perplexity clearly audible in his voice.

“This, Little Wing, is Urban Knights, the brand of my biker clothes”, Dick tried to ease the tension, but seeing his brother’s face grow pale instantly, he threw his arms around his shoulders and added, “Today, we’re gonna get you your own biker gear.”

With a chuckle, Jason let go of his speechless brother and walked towards the entrance. He was almost through the door when Jason’s horrified yell caught his attention.

“OH MY GOD – IS THAT YOU, DICK?!”

Confused, Dick returned to his brother, enquiring, “Wait, is what me, Little Wing?” Only then did Dick spot the likely cause of Jason’s outburst: the window next to the entrance was filled with a large image of Dick sitting atop a Harley Davidson, dressed in Urban Knights leather gear and with a seductive gaze on his sun-kissed face. The suggestive slogan 'Take a Ride' was printed right next to Dick's leather-clad figure. It had been over three months since the photo shoot where this image had been taken, so it was no surprise that he’d forgotten about it and hadn’t even recognized his own face in the window screen, but damn – the photo had turned out amazing, Dick had to admit. Even though he had been aware for a few years now about the effect that his good looks often had on people – and was not above exploiting that effect every now and then – he had been surprised and slightly humbled when Urban Knights had approached him about modelling for them. Nonetheless, studying the final product in front of him, Dick couldn’t deny that he had never looked better in his whole life.

“Hahaha, oh wow, yeah that’s me alright!”, he laughed at Jason’s discovery.

 “So you’re – what – a model now, too?!”, Jason continued, still audibly horrified.

Was he a model now? Dick wasn’t sure if he was, and in all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be either, at least full-time. Ever since losing his parents and meeting Bruce, he had wanted to protect the innocent and make the world a better place, so his double calling as a police officer and as Nightwing had allowed him to fulfil that destiny. Despite his good looks, he never had seriously considered a model career for himself – even though he would have been perfectly qualified by all accounts – and at 21 he guessed he was too old to start now. But apparently, the Paparazzi shots of him in his biker gear had sparked enough attention that it was a lucrative deal for Urban Knights to collaborate with him. So, if further such offers came along in the future, Dick would not be opposed to them, especially if they included such fancy benefits like free leather clothes.

“Kind of, but not really”, Dick summed up his thoughts to Jason. “I was one of their first customers. Some Paparazzi took shots of me out and about in their clothes and apparently sales skyrocketed after that. Celebrity endorsement and all, you know? So, they approached me and asked if I’d like to be the face of their next campaign, and I figured ‘why not’? The shoot was a lot of fun, and the photos turned out great, didn’t they?” And the night after the shoot that he’d spent with Wally and Caleb had been even more fun, he added in his thoughts. Thank the queer heavens for open relationships.

Jason still seemed stunned into silence by the photo, so Dick laid his arm across him and gently guided him into the store, where they were welcomed by the familiar sensual appeal of rock music, leather scents, and most importantly and the sexy figure of Caleb himself. “Dick! Long time no see. How you been doing, man?”, the blond hunk greeted him and clasped his hands. As always, Dick was amazed by the man’s rugged handsomeness. Only someone like Caleb could make an outfit as basic as a black tee and black jeans look that sexy. Unfortunately, he had not yet seen Caleb in leather but after all the post-photoshoot fun they’d had together, Dick was hopeful that this would change soon.

 “Caleb, so good to see you!”, he greeted him back, not wanting to let his relationship with Caleb shine through to Jason too much. “Thanks, I’m doing good. “Especially after seeing the photo spread outside.”

“Oh yeah, we officially launched the campaign last month. There’s a big promo event coming up next month that we’d love to see you at, our assistant will email you all about it. The response to the campaign has been incredible so far. Social media traffic is through the roof and sales are reaching new peaks too. Seems like people can’t get enough of you in our clothes. Not that I can blame them”, Caleb winked at him. Damn you, Caleb, you flirty bastard, Dick cursed silently, suddenly very much aware of his little brother next to him. The way that Dick felt his face go red, Caleb might just as well have grabbed Dick’s crotch right there in the store, because why bother about discretion, right?

“Well, they are very nice to wear, not gonna lie”, Dick tried to compose through his trademark smile.

“On that note, what brings you to Urban Knights on this fine Saturday?”, Caleb suavely turned from pleasure to business. “Looking for a new set of gear?”

“Surprisingly, no. Today, I’m on a mission not for myself, but for this strapping young fellow right here”, Dick said, grasping the shoulder of the boy who still looked like a nervous mess, “who also happens to be my little brother, Jason.”

Caleb instantly went to shake Jason’s hands, sending a ferocious blush into the 16-year-old’s cheeks, and for once in his life, Dick could thoroughly relate to his brother’s hormonal distress. Touching Caleb just did that to people.

“Of course, the famous Jason Todd!! Dick told me so much about you! So honoured to finally meet you! I’m Caleb, one of the co-directors of Urban Knights.”

“P-p-pleased to meet you, t-too”, Jason answered anxiously.

Wait a sec, Dick’s mind paused. Co-director?

“Oh, you’ve been promoted, Caleb? Congratulations, man!” Dick cheered, using the opportunity of a celebratory hug to briefly press his own body against Caleb’s own muscles and noticing with sly delight that they were both a good deal away from being soft.

“Thanks, Dick!”, Caleb answered professionally when they reluctantly disentangled from each other. “Yeah, well, you know, bringing in the face of the campaign that basically ends up launching your entire brand does make you popular with the CEO. Speaking of our brand, do you already have something in mind, or would you like to look around first?”

 “Well, I was thinking of the Midnight collection, that’s my favourite. Do you still have a jacket and pants in his size, or is it all sold out already?”, Dick asked hopefully. All Urban Knights products were amazing to wear and very easy on the eye, but if he could get Jason the very same collection that Dick was wearing himself, it would make their brotherly bond that much more special.

Seizing up Jason’s body with his eyes, Caleb answered thoughtfully, “I’m sure we still have some in stock. Let me check, I’ll be right back”, and then disappeared into the back of the store.

Dick strolled around the store, checking out not just a few of the many leather jackets and leather pants on the hangers, but also the other customers, who were all men and in some cases in what looked to be pretty good shape. Dick hadn’t been to Urban Knights since before the shoot and couldn’t remember seeing that many people in here all at once. He was really happy that the company was doing so well and even a little proud of his own little contribution to that success. Gazing around the store, Dick was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Caleb returning with a pair of jacket and trousers in his hands which Dick immediately identified as his beloved Midnight collection.

“These should fit you”, he spoke as he handed over the gear to Jason, who appeared way too starstruck to say anything in return. Remembering how overwhelmed he had been during his visit to the store, Dick couldn’t blame him though and guided Jason, who seemed as if in a daze, gently to the last of the changing rooms at the back of the store, where they should have sufficient privacy from the other customers.

As Dick waited for Jason to change into the clothes, Dick realized that he was missing his own gears back at the Manor as well as at his department here in Blüdhaven. It simply felt wrong to be in a room where there was so much leather on display (and quite a bit of eye candy to go with it) and not be wearing any leather himself. At least Dick could console himself with the fact that none of the customers could have entered the store without walking past the image of a perfectly styled Dick Grayson in his favourite Urban Knights leathers. Honestly, who wouldn’t want to ‘Take a Ride’ with that?

His chain of thought was interrupted when he heard Jason’s breathy voice go “Uurrngghhhh” on the other side of the dark curtain. Since the footage from last night hadn’t included any audio, Dick couldn’t be absolutely certain whether that had been a painful or a pleasurable groan, but a groan it definitely was. Thus, Dick simply inquired, “Jason, are you alright?” After a beat, Jason responded, “Ahh, yeah, I’m al-r-r-right, just need another minute”, in a voice that struck Dick as far too high and stammering than usual.

Crossing his arms, Dick kept waiting and wished he could simply help out his brother with whatever he was dealing with. He knew his brother well to interpret that groan and high-pitched stuttering and to at least understand that something was going on with the teenager, whatever it was. Even if Jason was just getting off from trying on the leather clothes like he had last night – and like Dick had himself more than a year ago during his first visit of Urban Knights – Dick could show him how to work through that. His concern came back even more forcefully than before when he heard another high whimpering from inside the cabin, which prompted Dick to ask, “Jason, what’s wrong?” All he got in return from his brother was an anxious-sounding “N-nothing”. Deciding that he’d left Jason alone for long enough, Dick said loudly, “Bullshit, something’s clearly wrong. I’m coming in”, and pulled the curtain aside, only to be met by a leather-clad Jason, who hastily turned around with a yelped “NO!!!”

It took Dick a few seconds to process what he saw and find adequate words to express how stunning Jason looked in the outfit. “Wow, Jason, you look … incredible. The gear fits you perfectly. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

He meant every word, every syllable, every letter. In the Urban Knights leathers, Jason was simply a revelation of dark, alluring sexiness. If he and Dick were closer in age and didn’t share the same adoptive father…

“No, I haven’t”, Jason’s panicked voice snapped him back to the present, “and I won’t until you leave me alone, so would you PLEASE step back and close the curtain again?!”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous, Dick thought in exasperation.

“What the hell is your problem, Jason?”

At that moment, Dick finally noticed that Jason was holding both of his hands in front of his crotch as if to cover something up. Aha, so that was it, Dick thought shrewdly. He had experienced enough accidental boners in public himself to recognize one what he saw it.

“Oh.” Little Robin got his beak sharp and now was trying to hide it.

“Something wrong with your pants, Little Wing?”, the troll inside of Dick couldn’t help but instigate.

“No, everything’s fine!”, Jason buried himself deeper into his grave of embarrassed arousal.

“Then there’s nothing to hide, is there?”, Dick smirked, gently pulling Jason’s hands aside and making the boy whimper in protest. As expected, he was rock-hard inside his leather pants, a feeling that Dick knew oh so well.

“See? Like I said, nothing to hide”, Dick spoke, his voice smug but also soft in the attempt to calm his brother down, who apparently was so ashamed by his hard-on that hec ould do nothing but utter an emphatic, pleading “Dick!”

“Hey, relax”, he responded, trying to sound reassuring.  “I know exactly how good this feels and that it is nothing to be ashamed of.” Dick then extended his right index finger and began caressing the underside of Jason’s leather-clad cock with it. Despite the minimal contact, he could sense the throbbing rigidness of Jason's manhood underneath the leather and could take a good guess at what he was feeling right now by his increasing moans. Still, Dick wanted to show him that this was something to enjoy, not something to be embarrassed of. “It does feel good, doesn’t it?”, Dick therefore added in a soft, but undeniable voice.

 “Yeah, urrgghh”, Jason’s voice came back through gritted teeth after a few more groans, “so good that I’ll shoot if you don’t stop immediately!”

Dick also knew that the threat of a premature leather orgasm was not to be taken lightly, so he did stop indeed and chuckled, “Well, I don’t think Caleb would be happy about that.” When he pulled his hand away, Dick did notice Jason’s hips sway ever so subtly in the direction of his fingers, as if yearning subconsciously to extend the contact between Dick’s soft hand and Jason’s hard shaft. The observation made Dick both happy and sad; happy that Jason was responding to his touch so strongly, and sad that it had taken Dick’s manipulation for Jason to finally start acknowledging his primal urges. The next step would be to open his eyes and make him accept what a looker he genuinely was, so Dick turned his brother slowly around until he fully faced himself in the mirror. The boner in his pants did nothing to lessen Jason’s attractiveness in that moment – or the weird feeling in Dick’s stomach.

“Wow”, came Jason’s soft whisper, as if in awe of the vision in the mirror. Dick hoped desperately that his little brother could finally see and accept what Dick had been seeing for so long, namely that Jason was (and looked) incredible and had no reason to hide himself in the shadow of the original Boy Wonder any longer. Just to make sure that his point came across, Dick said, “Now you see what I mean? Little brother or not, Jason, you are a handsome young man who shouldn’t have to hide his own appeal behind oversized shirts and hoodies. You deserve to be sexy in your own right, and if this gear helps you understand and accept that, then it’s yours.”

“But this is way too expensive, Dick, I could never accept that!”, Jason responded, just as Dick had expected.

“Think of it as a belated present for all of your birthdays that we couldn’t celebrate together”, he countered, while also stealthily pulling his phone out his jeans pocket and opening the video gallery. “Besides, I can’t have you sneak into my room and play with my gear every time I’m not looking.”

“WHAT?!?!”

In a perfectly timed hand movement to match Jason’s lightning-speed spin, Dick shoved his phone into his brother’s horrified face and started playing the footage from last night. Jason watched the recording in complete bewilderment, his face meanwhile discovering new, hitherto unknown shades of red in the human colour pallet. Dick, all the while, kept his expression deliberately balanced between serene and earnest. After a moment, Jason finally found a fraction of his voice again.

“How did you --- “

“Little Wing,”, Dick cut him off gently, but non condescendingly, “I’ve known our Dad much longer than you and I’ve learnt a lesson or two about body language and hidden cameras along the way. I just needed to test my theory, and the recording I saw definitely confirmed it. Also, there was a cute guy in my class at GA who wore leather jackets too and got me riled up just like you last night. I knew what was going on inside of you almost from the moment I saw you in the entrance hall, and I want you to know that that’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.”

Jason pondered on his words for a few second before continuing, “But Dick, if you buy me this gear and I learn how to drive, how do I even put this on without…”

“… without immediately busting your nuts in it?”, Dick finished Jason’s sentence, having fully anticipated the teenager’s question because it had been Dick’s own initial concern when he had tried on his Urban Knights leathers for the first time. He could remember so well how afraid he’d been that he’d soil his leathers the first time he straddled his bike in them – and how justified that fear had been, considering how close he’d cum come to it during that memorable first ride. Switching off his phone again and shoving it back into his pocket, Dick continued, “Haha, don’t worry about it, I’ll teach you. It was exactly the same for me. First ride in my leathers, I had to stop at a service station to jerk off in the toilets because otherwise I would have cum right there and then in my pants on the high way. Eventually it got better though. Mind you, it wasn’t easy, and I daresay it won’t be easy for you either, but trust me, you’ll get there, just like I did. During the week you’ll take lessons to get your driver’s licence, and on the weekends, we’ll ride around together on my Triumph in both our gears. That way, you’ll learn how to truly enjoy your leathers and not just worry about soiling them all the time.”

Dick let those words sink in and noticed with some relief that Jason’s cock began to soften and that the fear and shame on his face slowly but surely gave way to hope and happiness. They weren’t over the hump yet, far from it, but for the first time Dick felt like his placating words had actually gotten through to his brother’s core and had achieved a small, but still monumental shift in his attitude. Jason was still just a teenager, and so naturally there would be many more unwanted leather boners in the future for him, just like there had been for Dick. Nevertheless, Dick would teach his little brother how to enjoy them, rather than to run away from them in shame. Just as Dick would have to confront the weird fluttering that he suddenly sensed in his chest at the vision of his handsome biker brother.

 “Why are you doing this, Dick? You don’t have to, you know”, Jason broke Dick’s rhapsody.

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” Images from the past flooded back into his head in that moment. Marlon Brando in The Wild One. Wally’s naked body in the shower. Marc sitting next to him in his leather jacket. “I know from experience how confusing and terrifying it can be as a teenage boy to realize that you’re into guys and leather. In my days, I didn’t have anyone to guide me through that confusion. I had to deal with it all by myself which can be tough, especially when you’re constantly in the spotlight like us. So, if I can be that guide to you and ease things up a bit for you, then I’ll do that.” Leaning closer to Jason, he added in a whisper, “From one Robin to another”, and could not help but notice the lone tear rolling down Jason’s beaming face.

Suddenly, Caleb’s strong voice sounded behind him.

“So, how do they fit?”

“To perfection”, Dick announced proudly as he stepped aside to reveal Jason in his leather gear which did in fact fit perfectly on him.

“Perfection indeed”, Caleb nodded in agreement. Then he took a step back and let his head go back and forth between Dick and Jason. “Damn, are sure you’re just adoptive brothers? Good looks seem to run in your family, ” he commented almost in amazement.

Dick threw his arms over Jason’s shoulders, appreciating how the thin but durable leather of the jacket clung to his toned body like a second skin, and looked down into the teenager’s dark green eyes. Once again, Dick felt this weird sensation in his chest as he held his brother close to him, a sensation that he couldn’t pin down, no matter how hard he tried. It was not a familiar sensation that Dick could remember, but neither was it altogether … unpleasant. It was a sensation that would probably take him a lot of time to figure out. But right now, Dick’s own emotional confusion did not matter. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Jason’s happiness, and that happiness was clearly written across his smiling face.

“Adoptive or not,”, Dick spoke proudly, “he’s my Little Wing.”

Chapter Text

Jason had to pinch himself when he came back up from breakfast the next morning, entered his bedroom and saw the Urban Knights bag next to his desk. Even after a long night of sleep and Alfred’s delicious cooking, he still couldn’t quite the believe the day he’d just had. Not only had his big brother taken him out to buy Jason his first ever set of biker leathers which were far and away the coolest and arguably sexiest clothes Jason had ever seen on his body – he could not wait to put them on properly for the first time. Dick then had gone on to gift his younger brother with one of the most amazing days of his life, exploring Blüdhaven together. Even though Jason had visited Dick countless times over the years, the visits had mostly resulted in either patrols or movie nights on Dick’s couch. Jason had never actually gotten the chance to discover and get to know his brother’s home town. With Dick as his tour guide, Jason was pleasantly surprised to see how much he enjoyed the city, despite the bad reputation that it often got. Blüdhaven was like a slightly smaller, more low-key and less gentrified copy of Gotham that Jason almost enjoyed more than the original. Sure – what is aesthetically pleasing? Not exactly, but it definitely felt authentic and real, unlike many parts of Gotham. A lot of it arguably also had to do with the program that Dick had planned for the two of them, which could only be described as awesome.

After Urban Knights, Dick had taken them to what his big brother deemed the best Chili Dog place town and to his own amazement Jason had to admit that it at least matched his favourite snack bar in Gotham. Then they’d spent a few hours at a slightly run-down but still insanely fun arcade, before visiting The Browsery, Blüdhaven’s #1 Indie bookshop according to Dick. Despite Jason’s most valiant protests, Dick had bought him a vintage copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses there; definitely not light reading, but Jason had basically devoured everything that the 19^th century had to offer, so he figured why not move onto the 20^th century and start with the big guns? Dick’s bulging eyes alone at the size of the volume had been worth it. Jason was sure that there was a copy of Ulysses somewhere in the depths of the Wayne Manor library, but the vintage design of this particular edition had instantly drawn in his attention, so Dick being the generous bastard that he was had bout it for him right away. Afterwards, they’d finished off the day by having some ice cream near the harbour, watching the sun set slowly over the peaceful bay. It had been one of the most incredible surreal days that Jason could remember, a day that had clarified so much for Jason as to who he was and who he wanted to be all thanks to his brother, and so the day had gotten even more surreal when they’d returned to the Manor that evening.

Jason had been sitting at the dinner table, Dick on his left, Bruce and Alfred opposite of them. Dick had been recounting the day’s events, generously omitting any reference of Jason’s involuntary leather boner at Urban Knights. In his blue eyes shone the same genuine excitement and happiness and even pride that he’d exuded when he’d presented Jason in his leather gear to Caleb in the store, so much so that even Bruce and Alfred couldn’t help but smile. After Dick had finished his story, Bruce had simply looked at him and concluded with satisfaction, “So you’ve had quite the day, Jaylad, huh?”

“I did, yeah”, he responded with a soft smile, and then looking at his gap and blushing, laid his hands on the table and continued, “and actually this day made me realize a few things about myself.” Jason had no idea what he was doing; it was almost as if his mouth was operating by itself, but unlike on most occasions when that happened, Jason felt no building panic inside of him. With subtle determination, he raised his head again, looked Bruce straight in the eyes and said, “One of the things that I realized is that I like guys. I’m gay.”

No one had dared to interrupt him, all of them looking at the Boy Wonder attentively, so Jason had just marched on. “I guess I’ve known it for a long time, at least subconsciously, but today … today Dick made me realize not only who I am, but also that it’s okay to be who I am and that I don’t have to hide it. I know that you have no issues with anyone not being straight, but I still felt the need to tell you. I want to be honest to you about this, just as I want to be honest about this to myself too.

For a beat, silence filled the kitchen at Wayne Manor, before Bruce simply put his right on Jason’s left and uttered a warm “I love you, Jason.”. Within less than a second, Dick and Alfred added their respective hands as well.

“I love you so much, Little Wing.”

“As do I, Master Jason. We are all very proud you”

And even if Jason had had to use his free right hand to wipe away the tears of joy that had begun to run down his face that moment, no one needed to know.

Back in the present moment, Jason took his new leather pants and jacket out of the shopping bag, a spark of excitement instantly surging in his teenage cock, and carefully detached the price tags with a scissor from his desk. The four-digit price of his gear still made Jason’s stomach tumble, but Dick had reassured him endlessly yesterday that it was all good and that Jason could repay him by getting his driver’s licence and replacing some of the oversized tees in his closet with some slimmer ones. For today, Dick had even given him one of his old black tees to wear, which lay ominously on Jason’s pillow right now. The mere idea that Jason would be wearing a piece of clothing that until only a few years ago had been wrapped around Dick’s ripped body only added further oil to the rising flame in Jason’s crotch, so that when he laid out his leather gear on the bed in an exact mirror image of how he’d found Dick’s leather in his room two days ago, Jason was rock-hard.

Unlike with his most recent boners, this one did not worry the teenager; in fact it was what he needed. On their drive back to Gotham yesterday, Dick had opened up to him that one of the best ways to keep his cock in check when he wore his leathers and rode his bike was to jack off right before he put on his gear; that way, his sexual organs would already be exhausted and depleted and would need more time to recharge again. Looking down at the slick shiny material of the leather and its dark alluring scent, Jason could definitely see what Dick had meant. After brushing his teeth in the bathroom, Jason returned to the bedroom, undressed and let his hands run over the smooth leather, rendering his penis as erect as Jason could remember it ever being. He then stepped into the shower, turned on the water stream and started jerking, memories of the tight leather encasing his muscular superhero body invading his excited mind. It didn’t take many strokes of his pulsing shaft for Jason to experience the most explosive and longest orgasm of his 16-year-old life, just as Dick had suggested.

After the shower, he dried himself up, slipped into black boxer briefs and socks and then started the process of putting on his gear. This time, Jason chose to invert the strategy from the previous day and start with the pants, rather than the jacket. He knew that stepping into the tight legs of the pants and buttoning up his crotch would be the worst parts of the ordeal. If Jason could manage that without popping a woody, he would be safe. Thus, he picked up the biker trousers, sat down on the edge of his bed and let his legs slide slowly into the tight leather tubes, one after the other. Jason would be lying if he claimed not to feel anything in his crotch as his legs pushed further into the tight pants, inch by inch; he definitely felt something. But by the time he buttoned up the fly and still hadn’t gotten erect yet, relief swept over the current Boy Wonder like a tidal wave.

Next, Jason grabbed the black tee that Dick had given him and pulled it over his head. He could instantly tell that it clung much more tightly to his torso than any of his own clothes, and when he checked himself in the bathroom mirror, sure enough his eight-pack, pecs and even his nipples were visibly outlined by the dark cotton. Excitement flared up in Jason’s groin again. Keep it together, Jay, keep it together, the boy told himself. He returned to the bedroom, pulled on his favourite black boots and finally completed his outfit by throwing on the Urban Knights jacket. Taking a peak outside of his bedroom door to check if the air was clear, Jason stepped onto the gallery and in front of one of the full-body mirrors. Even though the vision of himself in his leather gear was no longer new to Jason, Dick’s form-fitting tee and the way it placed his toned body on display added another enticing element to his image which did make it rather hard difficult to keep his bulge from swelling prematurely. Closing his eyes, Jason went through some of the breathing exercises that Bruce had taught him to deal with Scarecrow’s fear gas. When he felt that the danger of raising an impromptu leather tent in front of Bruce and Alfred had ebbed away, he zipped up the jacket, turned and made his way down towards the entrance hall.

The two older men were already waiting to see him off. When they laid eyes on him, Bruce looked slightly taken aback, while Alfred had his perfectly British ‘I’m deeply pleased right now, but I’m trying to hide it’ expression on his face.

Desperate to break the tension, Jason quibbed, “So what do ya think?”

Seemingly having composed himself again, Bruce cleared his throat and responded, “Wow, Jason, you look … different.”

“Grown up”, Alfred added politely, as always the most eloquent one in the family. Jason tried not to blush – or to bulge – as he looked down along his leather-clad body. Even though he knew that the gear belonged to him now and that it fit him like a glove, it still felt surreal to him. Just a couple of days ago, wearing his very own leather clothes had seemed like a far-fetched, impossible dream to Jason; and yet now here he was, standing in the entrance hall of Wayne Manor, decked out in leather from head to toe and earning appreciate glances from his dad and granddad.

“Yeah, well, this is actually the same gear that Dick has. He wanted us to have matching outfits. Boy Wonder tradition and all, you know.”

Bruce remained silent, but the subtle changes on his face were enough to let Jason know that his startled surprise had subtly turned into solemn pride.

“Your brother certainly has an eye for taste, without a doubt.” Thank God Dick hadn’t heard this; aesthetic praise from Alfred was like a Knighthood from Her Majesty; he’d never let Jason forget about his Alfred-approved eye for taste for the rest of Jason’s days.

“Speaking of your brother, I believe he is waiting for you outside of the garage. He already has prepared his motorbike for your fraternal trip.”

After hugging Bruce and Alfred goodbye – which felt weirdly comfortable even in the tight leather – Jason stepped into outside into the morning sun and walked over to the garage, where Dick was indeed waiting for Jason while checking his phone. The way that he leaned against his Triumph, Dick looked like a black-haired, leather-clad Adonis sent straight from to Earth from Olympus and proofed that his stunning images in the Urban Knights campaign had required no Photoshop whatsoever. The Grayson Effect was all real, and now Jason had all day to indulge in it. Looking up and seeing Jason approach, a huge smile spread across his chiselled face and he shoved his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. “There you are!”, he cheered.

Even though Jason was happy to see his brother too, the reality of his situation hit him more with every step he got closer to Dick and his bike. Jason would spend a longer period of time straddled right behind Dick across his bike, clinging onto Dick’s leather-clad muscles the whole time while also being decked out in leather himself. All of a sudden, Jason remembered again why this idea had so terrified him less than 48 hours ago as his shaft quickly came alive again. Jason got to a halt a few steps away from his brother who moved towards him and placed both of his gloved hands on Jason’s shoulders. “Are you ready to do this, Little Wing?”

Looking down at the once-again swelling bulge of his crotch, Jason gulped and answered truthfully, “I don’t know. I thought I was, but now that I’m here with you and it’s all getting real… I just don’t know if I can keep it under control once we hit the road. The leather does so much by itself, and if I add the engine and the speed, and…” … And you, Jason finished silently.

“Did you jerk off in the shower, like I suggested?”, Dick asked gently.

“Yeah, I did, but still, look at it”, Jason’s voice trailed off, too embarrassed to continue. Not even his optimistic big bro could deny the excitement that was visibly building below Jason’s belt.

Dick squeezed his shoulders, before letting go and saying, “Don’t worry, I have something that will help us.” He quickly disappeared into the garage, but came back less than a minute later with two black helmets that had a small blinking blue light on the right side. “These were designed by Bruce and myself together. They let us speak on the road just like we’re chatting right now. If at any point you feel like it gets too much and you need a break, just let me know and we’ll pull over. You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. Remember, I had to take a wanking break too the first time I wore Urban Knights on my bike, okay? And I was already 20 at the time. You’re still a teenager and only just discovering your body, so it’s completely natural.”

Placing the helmet on his head and pulling down the visor, he added, “Besides, Nightwing will always be there to take care of Robin.” With a soft smile on his face at those words, Jason repeated his brother’s actions and placed the helmet on his head. When he heard his brother’s voice next, Jason was in fact startled by how crystal clear he sounded, despite the protective headgear.

“I’ll go first and then you’ll sit down right behind me, okay?”

“Okay”, Jason responded, anxious to not let his hormonal nervousness shine through. Unfortunately, the image of Dick spreading his leather-clad legs wide apart to swing one of them over the bike while simultaneously flaunting his famously thick behind through the sunny air did nothing to calm down the Boy Wonder’s throbbing manhood. On the contrary, Jason was acutely aware of how hard he was when he took his place on the seat behind Dick, hoping to maintain enough distance between Dick and himself so that his brother wouldn’t notice his erection. “No, you have to sit right behind me and hold on to me. Like a spoon”, Dick insisted to Jason’s terror though. Knowing that he was fighting a losing battle, Jason sighed and slid the few inches that separated the current Robin from his predecessor forward, until Jason was literally spooning Dick’s body. Jason didn’t need a mirror to visualize how red his face had grown, since he could feel his leather boner poking Dick’s backside and there was no physical way in the universe for Dick not to feel that, too. If he did, however, he didn’t comment on it, but simply waited for Jason to cease moving. “Alright? Now wrap your hands around my body.”

Fuck, Dick, Jason cursed in his head, but did as he was told, embracing Dick’s torso from behind and realizing once again that apparently his brother’s body consisted of nothing but tightly steeled muscles. Pressed this close against Dick, even through the visor of his helmet the only thing that Jason could smell was his brother's Urban Knights leather and the natural masculine fragrance of Dick’s body, both of which only added to his tightening codpiece.

“Ready?”, came Dick’s voices through the speakers integrated into the helmet.

“Ready”, Jason spoke back and closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever erotic onslaught his genitals were about to endure once the Triumph sprung alive.

With a loud roar, the engine kicked in and the bike started to move forward. Instantly, Jason felt like a firework of arousal had been lit under his groin, the only difference being that normally a firework consisted of individual rockets, sparks, and explosions that would eventually die down. The stimulating firework heating up his bulge, however, was unbroken and continuous, setting his genitals aflame like a wildfire that was impossible to quench again. Admittedly, this sensation was no surprise to Jason; the 16-year-old had fully expected that reaction from his body after all his experiences with the Urban Knights leathers so far as well as Dick’s own biker stories. Still they hadn’t even left the grounds of Wayne Manor yet, and Jason was already dreading having to face Dick later on after his teenage hard-on had poked his back forever.

Once they hit the highway and could finally speed up, Jason simply let his head fall forward onto Dick’s broad shoulders and kept his eyes closed, restarting his deep breathing exercises from earlier. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in Breath on. The sensual onslaught assaulting Jason’s body right now made it incredibly difficult to maintain his focus. Dick’s muscles that he was holding onto. The scent of his leather gear. The wind sweeping past them. The vibrating rumble of the engine right between Jason’s legs. All of if only added fuel to his genital engine. But after about half an hour on the road, Jason realized with some amazement that he had not sensed any danger of an imminent orgasm that was about to overcome him. Sure, his cock was still as rock-hard as at the beginning, perhaps even more so, but apparently his breathing routine had been successful enough to keep his boner from exploding prematurely. Every second without an involuntary orgasm was a victory in Jason’s book.

Jason was just padding himself on the back mentally for the self-discipline he had demonstrated so far, when Dick in front of him started to squirm in his seat. The current Boy Wonder had no idea what his predecessor was doing, only that it was not helpful to Jason’s attempt at keeping his boner at bay. There was barely enough space on the bike for the two of them as it was, and memories of how Jason had lost control over his bike and caused a potentially fatal accident in his dream the other night struck him. Luckily, Dick’s movement stopped after a moment, making Jason presume that his brother had simply tried to make himself more comfortable in the seat. But after a couple of minutes, the wriggling started again, and this time, when Dick deliberately pushed his butt backward against Jason’s groin, the shocking realization hit him.

Oh. My. Fucking God.

Dick Grayson was grinding his ass against Jason Todd’s leather-clad erection.

There was no mistaking it. Again and again, Dick thrust his ass backward and slightly upward, rubbing his juicy cheeks against Jason’s throbbing shaft, until Dick’s butt crack and Jason’s boner were perfectly lined up. If it weren’t for the leather of Dick’s pants, Jason could have easily pushed his erection into Dick’s hole and taken the original Boy Wonder from behind right then and there.

Horny panic erupted in Jason’s chest and any notion of self-discipline fled from his body, as he sensed his cock getting dangerously receptive towards Dick’s grinding.

Suppressing a moan as he once more felt the leather-head of his cock brushing against Dick’s rim, Jason breathed, “Arrrgh, what the fuck are you doing, Dick?!”

“Just testing your self-discipline, Little Wing, that’s all”, came his retort, his trademark smirk practically audible in the smug tone of his voice.

“For fuck’s sake, Dick! I thought you wanted to help me not to cum!!”

“I am helping you, Jay.”

“By edging me on with your ass?! I doubt that’s what helping your little brother not to jizz his brand-new biker pants looks like.”

“Just think of it as a stress test. If you can withstand this, you can withstand anything.”

“FUCK!!!”, Jason simply yelled as he felt the crack of Dick’s ass once more grind its way up and down Jason’s manhood which was seemingly getting closer to shoot with every passing shoot. This was just like the wet dream the other night in which he’d been brought off by Dick too, he thought.

But no.

That wasn’t completely true.

This situation right now was not exactly like that dream. It was close to it, but not identical. In the dream, it had been Jason in the front seat and controlling the bike, with Dick behind him and reaching around Jason to jerk him off through his leather gear. This time it was the other way around, though. This time, Jason was sitting in the back, and Dick in the front. And his muscular, leather-clad body was all there for the taking, literally and figuratively.

Let’s fight fire with fire, Jason decided, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

While he kept his left arm wrapped around Dick’s torso, he let his other hand slowly slide downward along Dick’s eight-pack abs – just like Dick had done himself in Jason’s wet dream – until it eventually reached its destination: Dick’s groin. His older brother hadn’t raised a tent in his pants yet, but Jason definitely sensed a slight bulge swelling underneath the tight leather.

So lost in his grinding, it took Dick a few seconds to notice the gloved hand cupping his crotch right now.

“Jason, what the --- argh!”, he started, but his voice broke off into a gasp when Jason gently squeezed his bulge.

“Well, since you’re testing my self-discipline, I thought it only fair to test yours, too, Dickie.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m the one driving right now”, he retorted with a slight edge to his voice.

“All the more reason for me to test your self-discipline. After all, I need to know that I can trust you as my driver, right?”

Another squeeze of Dick’s bulge elicited an unmistakable groan from the 21-year-old, despite his best attempts to maintain his authoritative composure. “Uuurrgghh!” Having found the chink in Dick’s erotic armour, Jason then proceeded to massage Dick’s bulge with his right hand, until his cock had turned into a full-on boner. Then Jason wrapped his hand around the leather-clad shaft and began to stroke it up and down, transforming Dick’s already breathy voice in the speakers into a deep and ceaseless stream of panting.

Unfortunately for Jason, the one thing he’d wanted to achieve by jerking his brother off – namely that he’d stop grinding his ass against Jason’s own erection – evaded him. Quite the opposite, actually, the hand job he was receiving from his littler brother seemed only to spur Dick on even more. The pace and intensity of his grinding increased so much that after a few minutes Jason not only was as close to coming as Dick, but the younger boy was also subconsciously pushing his lower body forward every time he sensed Dick’s ass rubbing against him. Soon his panting matched that of his brother, an audible manifestation of the sexual war that had erupted between the two young men: which Boy Wonder would submit to his brother and explode in his leather pants first? Would Dick give in to Jason’s hand job first? Or would Jason give in to Dick’s grinding first?

Minutes of mutual edging passed, until Jason realized that he was only a few more grinds away from his climax for real. “Urrgh, fuck, Dick, I’m gonna ---”, Jason gasped, but Dick cut him off, his voice equally breathless, “Yeah, me too. Let’s call it a truce and take a break at the next station, okay?” Jason was too aroused to say anything in response and instead let go of Dick’s throbbing member, whereas Dick himself stopped his grinding. When the Triumph came to a stop at an old and seemingly deserted service station five minutes later, both Boy Wonders were still rock-hard, but at least none of them had soiled their leather pants with their respective man juices. Dick and Jason quickly got off the bike, their visibly protruding erections still stretching the tight leather of the Urban Knights trousers, and stowed their helmets in the seat bag of Dick’s bike. Then Jason followed Dick into the bathroom next to the station, which was thankfully just as deserted inside as it had looked from the outside.

“What now?”, Jason asked, a nervous tremor still in his voice.

“Just whip it out”, Dick answered, turning around to reveal that he indeed had already freed his member from its leather encasement. Tentatively, Jason followed suit and unbuttoned his pants, grabbed into his briefs and pulled out his cock, which was just as hard and screaming for attention as Dick’s. Seeing both their shafts in their fully rigid forms, Jason wondered how the tight-fitting Urban Knights pants could possibly contain all that. The leather really had to be next-level to endure that much straining and stretching without ripping immediately.

When he looked up again, Jason saw that Dick was leaning against the wall inside one of the empty cabins. “Come over here, Little Wing”, he said softly. Jason walked over to the cabin and leaned right next to his brother, who continued, “You know, this is actually the same bath room where I had my first leather jerk-off, when I rode my Triumph in my Urban Knights gear for the first time. I wasn’t sure at first when we were outside, but I definitely remember the tiles now.” Jason said nothing and only let his eyes wander across the light-blue tiles on the walls. “And so I thought that since we’re both here, both in Urban Knights leather and both hard as fuck, maybe we could continue the legacy and help each other out.”

Slowly and gently, Dick grabbed Jason’s left hand and placed it around the 21-year-old’s cock, while Dick himself wrapped his own right hand around Jason’s member and began to stroke. A heavy breath escaped Jason’s lips as his aroused body tried to adjust to the overwhelming double sensation of receiving a hand job while at the same time holding someone else’s pulsing member in his own hand. Jason instantly started jerking Dick too. The mutual stimulation felt unfamiliar, but still absolutely incredible to the 16-year-old. It was as if for each stroke of Dick’s cock, Jason was rewarded in return with a powerful stroke of his own cock by Dick. Unlike the loss of erotic control that Jason had so feared on the road, this was gradual, controlled, and therefore that much more enjoyable to him.

For several more minutes, the two young men continue to edge each other, perfectly adjusting their respective paces and rhythms to the other’s sensibility, until the drops of precum that were beginning to leak from both of their heads let them know that they were ready to shoot.

“Ready?”, Dick looked over at Jason and asked, happiness exuding from his blue eyes.

“Ready”, Jason affirmed, no longer embarrassed but simply excited by what was about to happen. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the tiles behind him

Both men quickened the pace of their jerking once more before a minute later their simultaneous orgasmic yells filled the otherwise empty bath room and the barrel of cum into which Jason’s genitals had been transformed over the last hour was released. Panting joyfully, Jason could imagine through his closed eyes how his manhood was shooting a seemingly endless stream of cum almost like a water pistol until it eventually ran dry. Opening his eyes again after a couple of minutes of post-orgasmic bliss, he indeed spotted a large trail of cum on the floor in front of him, but strangely enough not in front of Dick.

“Dick, why didn’ you --- ”, Jason started, confusion in his voice, but then he saw that his brother apparently had cupped his cock head with his left hand, which was now drenched from the cum shot that it had apparently absorbed.

“You don’t want to waste the best part, Little Wing”, Dick panted happily, lifting his hand towards his mouth and licking the cum off his index finger, much to Jason’s incredulity. “Try it”, he added, reaching over to Jason’s mouth. Hesitantly, Jason let his tongue slide over the cum-covered palm of Dick’s hand and was shocked to realize that the liquid actually felt … nice. More than nice, Jason had to admit. Jason had never tasted cum before, but if this what it tasted like, then it definitely would not be his last time. Before he knew what he was doing, he had cleaned Dick’s entire hand, only to realize that the original Robin had gotten semi-hard again in the process. “Damn”, Dick chuckled, gazing down towards his manhood, “licking my hand clean myself is one thing, but having it licked clean by somebody else is a whole other level. Wally will definitely try that when I tell him.”

“Sorry, you just taste too delicious”, Jason apologized with a slight blush on his cheeks. Then, looking at his own drops of cum on the dirty floor, he sighed disappointedly. “I wish I’d saved my cum shot. I wanna know what mine tastes like, too.”

Grabbing his brother’s shoulder, Dick cheered him up, “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to try it in the future. And then you’ll realize that it tastes just as amazing.”

Already looking forward to that moment, Jason zipped himself up and walked over to the sinks, which were somehow still working, and washed his hands. A couple of minutes later they were standing next to Dick’s bike again, helmets already in hand, when Jason suddenly spoke up.

“Dick, before we ride on … What are we gonna tell Bruce and Al about this? I mean, we’re brothers after all. Not by blood, but still. And I’m pretty sure brothers aren’t supposed to jerk each other off, are they? Adopted or not.”

Dick smiled gently as he moved closer to Jason. “Little Wing, you know what brothers are supposed to do for each other? They are supposed to look out for one another. Care for one another. And if necessary to do anything for one another that will make themselves feel better. What we just did we didn’t do because we’re about to enter an incestuous relationship.” Some thought seemed to cross Dick’s mind as his brows briefly frowned and his eyes became distant, but within seconds his features softened again. “What we did was simply to take some pressure off of each other, and to help you really get comfortable in your own skin. Bruce and Alfred don’t need to know about this, but honestly, even if they did, I doubt they’d have a problem with it. They are pretty liberal, and they know that everything we do comes from a place of love.”

Jason still wasn’t convinced yet.  His sexual adventure with Dick had been bold, daring, and exciting in the moment, but in its afterglow he felt like he’d crossed an invisible ethical line that he hadn’t known to exist until mere moments ago. As if sensing Jason’s uneasiness, Dick grabbed Jason’s shoulder with his free hand and squeezed. “You are my brother, Jason, and I will always love as you as my brother. Robin means family after all. But you are also an independent young man. An independent young man who has gone through a lot recently with his body and his sexuality, and I’ll be damned if I let you go through that alone and let any moral authority tell me what I can or cannot do to help you.”

A soft smile blossomed on Jason’s face again, his eyes beginning to sting ever so slightly.

“Please tell me, Jason: did anything that we did today make you feel uncomfortable at all? Like you’d rather that we didn’t do it and that you wished to be somewhere else? You can be completely honest with me and I promise I won’t be offended.”

“NO!”, Jason exclaimed quickly, eager to wipe away any hint of a bad conscience from his brother’s head. “I didn’t feel uncomfortable. At all. Or at least not in a bad way.” His smile turned sheepish at that admission. “I was just a bit overwhelmed by how good it all felt and how much I liked it. I’ve been into guys for a while, but I hadn’t been open about it yet and I definitely hadn’t realized that I was into leather too until you walked into the Manor in your gear. It’s just…” Jason paused, trying to find the right words. “I look up to you, Dick. So much. You’re cool and kind and smart and brave and funny, and yes, you’re sexy too, I’m not gonna lie just because you’re my brother, and it all just hit me when I saw you in your leathers. It’s not that I want to be your boyfriend or anything. It’s more like you’re the type of guy that I aspire to be one day when I’m grown up, and that’s why I want to stick close to you.”

“Oh Little Wing”, Dick cried as he engulfed his brother in his arms. “You already are so much more than I ever will be, and don’t let anybody tell you differently”, he breathed wetly into his neck. “I love you so much, Little Wing.” Despite their bodies being pressed against each other, Jason didn’t sense any excitement flare up in his crotch for once, and neither could he notice any reaction in Dick’s. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion of their explosive orgasms just a few minutes ago. Perhaps it was due to something else. Jason didn’t care. The only thing that Jason cared about was the fact that he was loved and that his big brother was holding him, and he would let nobody ever take that away from him. “Love you too, Big Bird.”

Chapter Text

They say that time’s supposed to heal ya,

But I ain’t done much healing.

Dick was not sure if we supposed to laugh and cry at the lyrics of the Adele song that was playing in the background while he was paying for his tank filling at a gas station on the outskirts of Blüdhaven. It was past 2 pm, and Dick was once more on one of his many nocturnal road trips with his Triumph. The cold night air rushing past him as he sped down the high way was one of the few ways to keep his depression at bay when sleep him evaded yet again, like it had tonight. Usually, he would still be out on patrol at this time, but he was recovering from a broken rib that he had suffered two weeks ago during an unfortunate run-in with Bane, so Nightwing was taking a reluctant break at the moment. At least physically, that is. Mentally, Dick Grayson had checked out from crime-fighting long ago.

The past two years had arguably been the most devastating ones of Dick’s life since the death of his parents at age 12. It had started when Wally had vanished into the speed force during a Young Justice mission in the Arctics, never to be seen again. In retrospect, Dick wasn’t sure, which part of Wally’s ‘death’, if he could even call it that, had crushed him the most. The mere fact that Wally was gone or the fact that Dick hadn’t been around when it happened and thus hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to his best friend and love of his life. Even though his relationship with Wally had always been an open one and they had frequently brought in other people for sexual experiments like Caleb or Xavier, there had never been an inch of a doubt between themselves – or anyone else in the superhero community, for that matter – that Dick and Wally were destined for one another.

After all the love he had experienced from his family and friends over the years, Dick had forgotten how wrecking the loss of a loved one could be, and Dick wasn’t sure if he had been able to go one if it hadn’t been for the presence of one particular person in his life: Jason. During his grief, his little brother quickly developed an acute sense for Dick’s emotional constitution and how to provide the support that he needed. If Dick needed to shout, Jason was there to listen. If Dick needed to be left alone, Jason was there to keep Bruce – whose lack of emotional expertise really kicked in during this time – and everyone else off his back. And if Dick was too stubborn to cry, Jason was there to remind him that even for a big brother it was okay to sometimes need a shoulder to cry on and that his little brother would be that shoulder to him.

Without Jason, Dick possibly wouldn’t have survived losing Wally.

Which made it even that much more soul-crushing when Jason was taken away from him less than 6 months later too.

Nightwing had been one a mission in space during Jason’s fatal trip to Ethiopia and had only found about Jason’s death after his burial, by Alfred no less, because Bruce had apparently been too emotionally petrified by the loss of his one son to face the other. When Dick had finally confronted him in the Batcave why he hadn’t called him back for the burial of his own fucking brother, Bruce had merely responded like a machine that the success of the mission could not be put at risk. Dick then had seen red like he never had before and punched Bruce in the face, right there and then in the Batcave. But the lack of response that he’d received from his father had been more painful than any physical and verbal retaliation he might have faced. If Dick had been drowning in an overflow of emotion, it seemed that had been was frozen in a numb void of emotion.

After his outburst in the Cave, it hadn’t taken Alfred’s advice for Dick to keep some distance from his father for the time being. Even so, Dick quickly began to sink into a spiral of despair. He would spend hours on his phone and computer, looking at photos and videos of Jason and himself together and replaying his voice messages on loop – only to realize with tragic irony that the one person who would be able to pull him out of this spiral was gone. Jason’s loss was affecting his work too, both as a police officer and as Nightwing. He was getting equally more ruthless and reckless, beating up his opponents more brutally than ever before while also not caring if he was the one who was getting beaten down instead. Who cared if he ended up so roughed up after a patrol that he could barely walk the next day? What meaning was there even any more to live in a world that no longer had Jason Todd in it? Without his little brother, life had become a punishment for Dick, a prison sentence, and he had started counting the days until it would be over.

Worse than anything though was the fact that Dick was getting more and more like Bruce. The more time passed since Jason’s death, the less he was able to feel anything at all, let alone shed tears for his Little Wing. Through the superhero grapevine and the press, Dick had found out that Bruce had eventually adopted another black-haired boy called Tim Drake whom he was rumoured to train to take over from Jason as Robin, but not even that managed to spark any sort of emotion from Dick, positive or negative. He continued to live his life as if dead inside, thankful that someone at the Manor – Alfred, by all likelihood – had apparently advised the Drake kid not to get in touch with him yet, because the last thing that Dick had wanted was to face the prospect of a new little brother after he hadn’t processed the loss of his first one.

The one person who was finally able to break through Dick’s stupor of mourning was none other than Barbara Gordon, who showed up at Dick’s apartment unannounced one Saturday night after not having heard from him for almost a month – only to discover what dishevelled messes both Dick and his apartment had become.  Despite his best attempts, Barbara had been stubbornly reluctant to leave him alone, and soon their conversation, which had begun civilized, had turned into a shouting match, the kind of which Dick had not had since punching Bruce in the Cave. When it had seemed like their voices could not have gone any louder or higher, however, Barbara had paused to recompose herself, wheeled herself towards the still raging Dick and grabbed both of his shaking hands in hers. In a gentle voice, she’d then said, “Dick, do you think that this is how Jason would like you to honour his memory?”

The soft but incontrovertible truth of Barbara’s words had trickled down into Dick’s frozen core like warm blossom honey and melted something in Dick’s heart that he hadn’t known he’d had anymore. The sudden stinging behind his eyes quickly evolved into sobbing, which soon escalated into a full-on breakdown in Barbara’s open arms. It had been the first time that Dick had cried about Jason’s death since returning from his space mission and visiting Jason’s grave so he let it all out and just wept and wept and wept for the injustice of Jason’s death until there were no more tears left in him. It was not until he was crying his eyes out there in Barbara’s arms that Dick realized he’d never fully reckoned with the strange feelings he’d developed for Jason ever since he’d seen him in his full leather gear back at Urban Knights, and now with Jason gone, he’d never get the chance to explore what those emotions truly meant, let alone what they could have become.

Not long after that night, Dick had started attending therapy sessions with Black Canary. It wasn’t an easy process opening up about problems that he’d kept bottled up for so long and admitting that he needed help. Yet eventually Dick’s relationship with Bruce and Tim improved, in part because Dick had finally understood what his own problems had been to begin with. He had been so stricken by his grief that he’d been blind to the pain that Bruce was feeling himself and the difficulties he had dealing with that. Grief was unique and everbody dealt with it in their own individual ways. Just because Bruce hadn’t been displaying emotions on the outside, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t grieving. Besides, Dick could hardly imagine what it had to feel like, losing your parents as a kid and then losing your own child as an adult. No wonder Bruce had become so numb to the world, if this was what the world dealt him.  As for Tim, Dick learned that he’d been so traumatized by Jason’s death that he had been afraid to grow too attached to his new little brother, lest history would repeat itself and Dick lose him too. At the same time, however, Dick also didn’t want to make the same mistake that he’d made with Jason, wasting the first months as sibling by deliberately staying away instead of getting to know his brother. So, Dick managed to overcome his anxieties and let Tim into his heart, finding that the boy, albeit much more quiet and shier than Jason, was just as lovable. It didn’t take long until Dick and Tim had grown so close that he could no longer imagine his life without the new Robin.

Despite his improved relationship with his father and brother, Dick still frequently suffered from periods of depression and insomnia. Together with Black Canary, he’d worked out that one of the best thing to do in those moments is slip on his Urban Knights leathers, straddle his Triumph until his demons loosened their grip on him and exhaustion engulfed him. Riding his bike had been one of his favourite pastimes, first on his own and then later with Jason behind his back, so Canary had suggested it was a way to work through his stress while also honouring Jason’s memory, and it had worked.  Dick still hadn’t fully rediscovered the purpose he’d once felt fighting crime as Robin and then as Nightwing, but it was a small victory nonetheless. One step at a time, he figured. So, when sleep had once more evaded him tonight after his painful rib-cracking encounter with Bane two weeks prior, Dick had wasted no time to put on his beloved gear and hit the road, stopping only now to fill up his tank.

Dick had just exited the gas station and was walking towards his Triumph when he heard the wolf’s whistle from somewhere behind him. “Look at that, ain’t he a pretty boy?!” Dick had barely noticed the group of men and their bikes on the other site of the lot when he had entered the station to pay, but unfortunately for him, now they seemed to have noticed him and were coming closer, at least judging by the approaching footsteps that he could hear. Reaching his bike, Dick was about to about to open the saddle bag of his bike and put on his helmet, but then he felt a rough hand gripping his right shoulder and turning him around rudely.

“Can I help you”, Dick prompted, trying to keep his voice calm. He was standing face to face with four young to middle-aged men, all of whom were dressed in matching black leather jackets and leather pants. The one who had grabbed him, who seemed to be the leader by the way that the other guys positioned themselves around him, was black and bald, the one to his right had a tan and black curls. The guy on his left had ginger fringes, while behind him stood another guy with a blond crew-cut. All four men looked pretty jacked based on how their leather clothes seemed to be straining from the muscles that they were packing underneath, and all four men looked at Dick like predatory animals who had just found their newest prey.

“We just wanna talk”, the black guy answered, seizing him up and down hungrily. “We rarely get something so pretty in this godforsaken town, so when we do, we gotta go and grab it. By the way, have I seen you before? You look familiar.”

“I doubt it”, Dick tried to deflect, impatience beginning to build in him. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“Wait a minute”, the ginger interrupted, squinting at Dick, “I know him! He’s Wayne’s kid!”

Oh no. This was bad.

“The circus brat who got adopted after his folks hit the bucket?”, the blond guy inquired, making Dick want to tear each of the man’s limbs from his body.

“Yeah, that one! Dick whatshisface?”

“Grayson!”, The tanned curly guy finished.

Very bad indeed.

“Dick Grayson”, the black guy spoke mused smugly, “son of Bruce Wayne, gracing us with his presence. Tell me, what brings a rich kid like yourself to this part of Blüdhaven in the middle of the night?”

“Nothing that’s any of your concern, so if you know what’s good for you, would you please excuse me.” Dick made to reach for his saddle bag, but the black guy’s hand flipped him around yet again.

“You think this is the way to speak to a Shark?! You ain’t going nowhere until we say you are, Circus Boy.”

At that point, Dick finally noticed the ruby insignia embroidered into their leather jackets and the necklaces that they wore, and gulped.

Fuck. These guys were part of the Haven Sharks. The most dangerous and infamous biker gang of Blüdhaven. They were not a huge collective by any means and paled in comparison to some of the gangs in Gotham, but they still accounted for a considerable part of the criminal activity in the city. What they lacked in numbers, they surely made up for in ferocity. Worst of all, the Sharks were known to be formidable hand-to-hand fighters who could easily hold their own and go toe-to-toe even against a fully armed, Bat-trained superhero like Nightwing, as Dick had discovered several painful times over the years. Even if Dick had his gadgets and weapons at the ready right now, fighting these four hunks all at once would be an uphill climb. Without his suit and with the added handicap of not being able to rely on his full skill set – lest these Sharks connect the dots about his masked alter ego – Dick wasn’t sure if he stood any chance at all.  

Not wanting to take any chances, then, Dick kept his mouth shut.

“That’s better”, the black guy said, “now let me see.” He grabbed both of Dick’s shoulders and then let his hands slide down Dick’s leather-clad arms. “You’ve got some fancy wear going on, don’t you, Circus Boy? Turn around for us, why don’t ya.”

Dick did as he was told, glad to no longer have the Sharks’ leering expressions in his face.

“Very fancy indeed”, the black guy continued.

“Of course he’s fancy. Just look at his bike. He’s got Wayne money.” That was the guy with the dark curls.

“Sure does”, the ginger added.

Then Dick felt the black guy’s hands grip his shoulders again and slowly move down his broad shoulders and back. When they reached his butt, they stopped to squeeze his cheeks, and Dick had to suppress a shudder. “Hmmm, nice”, the man commented. “Tell me, Circus Boy. Are you mad that Daddy took in a new kid yet again, so that you have to share all his money one day? I mean, I would be mad as hell. Just imagine. You got rid of the first one, thinking that the entire shebang will be yours, and then here along comes another black-haired brat to split the spoils.”

Luckily, the guy let go of his butt and rose up again, because Dick was turning into a volcano of fury that was about to erupt any second now.

“But I guess half the Wayne fortune is still better than living with your dirty Circus parents.”

That was it. With an angry yell, Dick swiftly turned back around, his fists clenched and ready for destruction ---

UUMMPHHFF

--- only for the black guy’s fist to smash in Dick’s face first and send him sprawling across the ground.

Stars were all that Dick could see for a few seconds, vaguely perceiving the Sharks’ laughter above him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a punch that powerful to the face. That was almost Bane-level muscle power. When the man’s first had connected with his jaw, it had felt like Dick’s head was about to be torn off his neck. Carefully bringing one of his gloved hands to his lips, he discovered a bloody stain on the tip of his finger.

Before he could think of what to do next, a booted foot was rammed powerfully into Dick’s side, lifting his entire body off the ground and making Dick yell out in agony. The kick unfortunately connected with Dick’s injured rib and thus destroyed any slow process of recovery from the last few weeks in less than a second, setting his entire body aflame with newly resurfacing pain. Barely able to breath, Dick could do nothing but lie on the ground and gasp, terrified of what would happen next and in disbelief of his swift defeat. With just two hits, Dick Grayson – the prodigy of Batman, the original Boy Wonder, the sworn protector of Blüdhaven – had been incapacitated. Even if the staffer working inside the station had heard Dick’s yell, there was no way he’d interfere with Shark business. This was Blüdhaven. If you needed a saviour in this town, you were on your own – especially when the person in need of a saviour was none other than the city’s self-proclaimed saviour himself, Nightwing. What little chance he’d had against these men died the instant that the leather boot re-fractured his rib. Not even Nightwing’s gadgets could have saved him now. In a twisted way, it was probably for the better that he was receiving this beat down as Dick Grayson and not as Nightwing. If Blüdhaven’s famous vigilante got taken down like that by a bunch of bikers, no villain would ever take him seriously again. The Sharks were destroying the mighty Nightwing and didn’t even know it.

These humiliating thoughts were rushing through Dick’s aching head when his broken body got lifted up by the arms. Opening his heavy eyes, Dick saw that the arms belonged to the blond guy with the crew-cut and the ginger one. Once Dick was one his knees, they began to drag him away from his Triumph and towards the backside of the service station, which was unlit and safe from any unwanted onlookers. Dick’s situation was going from bad to worse by the minute. The communication system integrated into his bike and helmet were the only ways for him to call for help, since he had foolishly left his phone at home in his depressive mood swing. Cut off from any communication, Dick realized with mounting horror that he was utterly at the Sharks’ mercy and judging from his past interactions with them as Nightwing, there was no mercy that he could expect from them.

When the Sharks and their prey were sufficiently clouded in shadows, they raised Dick up by his arms, rightly sensing that he was too weak already to be standing upright by himself. The black leader and the curly guy slowly approached Dick’s prone figure with malicious grins on their faces. “What’s the matter, Circus Boy? Your legs feel a bit wriggly? You just need to loosen up.” At that, he pulled down the zipper of Dick’s leather jacket, revealing the slim Henley that Dick wore underneath. “But don’t worry your pretty little head, we’ll help you with that.” Then he grabbed the collar of Dick’s Henley with both hands and in one powerful jerk ripped the garment in two, exposing the 24-year-old’s chiselled torso not just to the cold nocturnal air, but also to the leering stares of the Haven Sharks. By now, Dick could no longer hide the growing desperation on his face. The Sharks were literally tearing him apart layer by layer and it seemed like there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“Damn”, the black guy chuckled, “not just a pretty face, but a pretty body too underneath all that leather. Haven’t seen abs like that in a long time. What do ya say, Enrique?”

The tanned man with the dark curls, who apparently answered to the name Enrique, let his right hand graze across Dick’s abs, eliciting disturbing flares of heat in the Boy Wonder. The fact that Enrique was far and away the most handsome of the group did not make the heat in Dick's body any easier to ignore. Then he said, “He’s pretty ripped, but also pretty pale. You think we can give him some colour, Wade?”

The black guy – Wade, it seemed – chuckled again and said, “I have an idea.”

Without any warning, he then slammed his right fist straight into Dick’s gut, before repeating the movement with his left. In seconds, any air that Dick had regathered in his lungs since the beginning of his beat down fled from his body, as he groaned deeply and contorted his face in unimaginable pain. Afterwards, Wade merely pointed at the muscles that he had just struck, which were shining bright red. “You like that colour, Enrique?”, Wade asked smugly. “Oh yeah”, the other Shark answered forebodingly, “I’ve always had a thing for red.”

And thus it began.

Dick had less than a second this time to flex his assaulted abs before the two Sharks started pummelling Dick’s bare torso in tandem with a seemingly endless flood of punches to his abdominal and pectoral muscles, but the flexing made no difference. Even in his Nightwing suit, not to mention his Urban Knights leather jacket, he would have stood no chance against the combined fist power of two Haven Sharks. His ripped wall of abdominal muscles, which Dick had always taken such pride in, was systematically being pulverized, one brick had a time. Each punch hurt worse than the one before, an ever-enlarging wrecking ball that smashed his once heroic muscles to smithereens and opened up a new horizon for the Boy Wonder as to how much pain a human body could possibly endure. Every now and then, their fists would connect with his broken ribs, making his agony even worse. Far too breathless to groan, let alone scream, Dick just hang lifelessly in the arms of the other two Sharks, drowning in the ceaseless tidal weave of torture and losing any notion of time and place.

Thus, when the gut-punching finally, thankfully, mercifully stopped, Dick had no idea if Wade and Enrique had been bashing him for 5 minutes or 50. The only things that Dick, who was barely conscious any more, knew was that his trained body ached like it never had before in his entire life and that his torso glowed as red as Superman’s cape. He had been beaten many times before as Nightwing, but never quite like this. This was a new low point for the Bird of Blüdhaven, one that he wasn’t sure right now if he’d ever recover from. If he even survived that night.

“Do you like his colour better now, Enrique?”, Wade asked in his fellow Shark’s direction.

“Oh yeah”, Dick, hardly able to look up, heard the other man say. “Much better. The red of his abs matches the blue of his eyes and the black leather so nicely.” All four men laughed at that, not seeming fazed at all by the amount of blows they had just delivered to Dick's body, then Enrique continued. “Actually, after all that hard work, I feel like our Circus Boy deserves a little reward.” The next moment, Dick suddenly felt fingers on both of his nipples, rubbing and squeezing them. Instantly, unwanted desire flashed through Dick’s tormented body and before he could stop himself, an irrepressible moan escaped his plum lips. “Yes, Dickieboy, give in,” Enrique purred, hearing Dick’s moan. “You know you want to. You know you like it.”

I DON’T!!!!, Dick wanted to scream, but it was as if the control over his body was slipping further and further away from him with every second that his nipples kept being stimulated. After already having been overpowered physically, the unexpectedly tender touch of hunky Enrique's fingers' on Dick's pecks, his warm breath against his ear, and the masculine fragrance of sweat and leather were now overpowering him sexually, too. After a couple of minutes, the erotic onslaught also left its traces in Dick’s crotch, which began to bulge noticeably in the skin-tight leather of his Urban Knights pants. Dick had no idea how his body could still get aroused after going through possibly the worst beat down of his life, but his swelling codpiece was all the proof necessary for it. Perhaps it was the beat down that made all of this possible to begin with. They had weakened him so extensively that his body was unable to offer any resistance against the groping hands. The fact that Dick hadn’t had any sexual action in months certainly didn’t help either, as he watched the leather of his pants slowly stretch under his hardening shaft and prayed that his erection would go unnoticed by his tormentors.

But of course, that was not to be, when he heard Wade jeer, “Oh wow, look at that. Getting off even after the number that we did on him. Guess they don’t call him Dick for nothin’.” Wade placed his right hand around Dick’s leather boner, provoking a weak “No!” from the Boy Wonder, and then started stroking him.

“URRRGGHHHHNNN”, Dick moaned loudly, throwing his head back to the joint laughter of the four men. If he had been drowning in a tidal wave of pain and desire before, he was now being pulled right down to the bottom of an ocean of arousal, with no hope of ever reaching the surface again. Each stroke of his cock was like a pump that filled his genitals a little bit more with blood, cum, and horniness, and Dick could sense that he didn’t need many more strokes until he’d reach his breaking point. The hand job was only made worse by how slick and smooth the leather of his pants was. The material that he'd always loved so much now added to his predicament, making the arousing effect of Wade's hand on his throbbing, leather-clad manhood that much more devastating.

After a few excruciating minutes, he heard Enrique exclaim gleefully, “Look, he’s leaking!”

Prying open his eyes and looking down along his beaten body, Dick saw that there were indeed white drops of precum staining the head of his leather boner, and he just wanted to cry. For years he had honed his self-discipline, first on his own and then together with Jason, and had managed never to soil his Urban Knights leathers despite the sexual stimulation that they always provided any time he put them on. But now, all his self-discipline was being obliterated by someone who Dick should have been able to take out in the blink of an eye. How could he ever wear his leather gear again after learning tonight what a pathetic wannabe-biker he truly was?! After it’s been soiled and shamed with his own precum? How could he even be Nightwing again? Pretending he could protect others when he couldn’t even protect himself?

Suddenly, the nipple play and the stroking stopped, even though Wade kept his hand wrapped around Dick’s leaking cock and stepped closer to Dick. With his deep, enticing voice, he breathed warmly into Dick’s ear, “You like this, Circus Boy?” Dick hated himself for the yearning voice in him that wanted to say ‘yes’, so he gathered all the remaining strength and will-power left in his body to respond huskily, “N-n-no”.

“Too bad”, Wade continued. “I was hoping you would. Well, maybe you’ll like this better instead.” Surprisingly, he let go of Dick’s throbbing manhood and moved aside. Enrique took a position right in front of Dick, took a step backward, only to then jerk his leg forward again and drove his knee right into Dick’s groin.

“AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!

Dick screamed like he never had before in his life, feeling his rock-hard cock literally being crumbled to pieces. He knew from his countless outings as Nightwing how petrifyingly painful a ball bust could be even in the best of times, but against an erection?! Dick’s horizon of human pain was broadened yet again in a way that he’d never thought possible. If it weren’t for the overwhelming agony, Dick would probably start worrying if he would ever be able to have sex again after tonight, but as it was, the only thing that he was yearning for was the graceful blessing of unconsciousness to embrace him, no matter what the Sharks would do to him when he woke up.

Suddenly, the arms that had been holding him throughout his whole ordeal let go of him and his body plummeted to the ground, his trembling hands immediately cupping his brutalized groin. Laying on the dirty floor, the tears that he had been holding for a while finally rolled down his eyes, much to the Shark’s villainous delight. “Awww, look who’s a cry-baby now?”, the crew-cut guy sneered. “You crying for Daddy to rescue you? Well, he ain’t coming. Nobody is”, the ginger guy taunted, emphasising his final point by pressing his left boot onto Dick’s aching groin again and thus making the protector of Blüdhaven squirm in unimaginable pain. “The only one coming tonight is you, Dickhead.” More cruel laughs from the Sharks at the awful, yet truthful pun.

Wade then knelt down next to Dick’s head and patted him cheeks like a little child. Only at this point did Dick notice that all four Sharks hard erect in their leather pants too, clearly turned on from giving Gotham's golden boy the beating of a lifetime. “You see now, Circus Boy? You thought you could just walk in here with your pretty boy leather ass like you own the place and tell us what’s what? Well unlike you, we are MEN who have actually earned the right to wear leather. And now we’ll show you what happens to pretty boys who haven’t.”

Wade rose up again when the sharp noise of bullet being fired filled the air. Suddenly, the ginger guy cried out in pain, lifted his boot from Dick’s groin and clutched his right shoulder, which had started to bleed. The four Sharks looked around in concern, searching for the origin of that gunshot. Dick followed their gazes, eventually discovering another shadow-clouded person who walked slowly towards them. As he approached Dick and his tormentors, his striking appearance became more visible. He more a tight brown leather jackets under which bulky muscles were clearly discernible, a vest that looked to Dick’s blurry eyes as if it was made out of Kevlar, black army pants and boots. In his right gloved hand, he was holding the gun with which he had apparently just struck the Sharks. But his most striking feature by far was his head, or rather the lack of it. The man was wearing a red helmet with white lenses for eyes, underneath of which no facial features could be made out. Then it hit Dick.

This guy had to be the Red Hood that Batman had told him about! A mysterious vigilante that had first appeared in Gotham a few months ago and had since built up a considerable criminal empire of his own. He was rumoured to be pretty lethal if you got on his wrong side – which was why his appearance right now didn’t make any sense to Dick. So far, Red Hood had only kept to Gotham City; why was he suddenly out and about in Blüdhaven in the middle of the night? Was he trying to expand his empire? Also, why had he just stopped the Sharks from going even further with Dick’s sexual torture? By all accounts, this guy didn’t necessarily have the common good of the people in mind, unless you counted murdering a bunch of child rapists and busting sex trade circle in Gotham. Still, if he was on the side of good, he wouldn’t have tried to kill Batman and (especially) Robin in each of their encounters – and had gotten quite close to achieving it a few times.

Suddenly, the man spoke in a deep and mechanical voice, likely produced by some sort of vocal modulator inside the helmet.

“Why don’t leave your dirty hands off of him and pick someone your own size?”

“Why don’t you get the fuck outta here, big guy? Or you volunteering to take his spot instead?”, Wade spat back angrily.

“Trust me, fellas, if you mess with me, it won’t end well for you”, Red Hood responded, placing his gun back at his belt as if he wouldn’t need it for what was about to happen.

“Funny that, because the way I see it right now, it’s four against one”, Wade warned him as the Sharks slowly circled around the lone man. Dick reluctantly had to agree. Going up against four Haven Sharks all at once could be a challenge, even for a fully armed and perfectly healthy Nightwing. Maybe the guy had never been in Blüdhaven before and hadn’t heard of the Sharks’ reputation. In this town, underestimating a Shark could very well equal a death sentence as Dick had been brutally reminded himself tonight. Even if Red Hood was capable of fighting off Batman and Robin all at once, he had to warn him, but after his humiliation Dick felt far too weak to bring his vocal cords to work, let alone crawl back to his Triumph to get to safety. Red Hood’s fate in this fight would also determine Dick’s fate tonight.

“Then why don’t you call a dozen more of your pathetic little Babyshark friends, and then maybe we can have a fair fight?”

That taunt pushed the bikers over the edge, and they started attacking Red Hood all at once with angry yells. The fight instantly became a blurry whirlwind of leather-clad bodies, each of the brawlers moving far too quickly for Dick’s drooping eyes to make out how things were going. The fact that Red Hood was still standing after a couple of minutes was at least a good sign to Dick, who was loath to remember that he had managed far less tonight. The intensity of what Dick was witnessing was simply unreal. Perhaps Red Hood does have a chance?, Dick began to hope. When his saviour even managed to knock out both the ginger and the crew-cut guy, it seemed like the tide was actually, miraculously turning in his favour.

Now it was Red Hood against Wade and Enrique, giving Dick a clearer view of how the fight was progressing. Some of Red Hood's moves definitely looked familiar to Dick, but it was probably just because so many years of life fighting criminals that there no longer was any fighting move that he hadn't encountered at one point. Either way, Red Hood was a beast, but unfortunately, so were Wade and Enrique. Even at his peak as Nightwing, these two would have been a challenge to the original Boy Wonder, which made Red Hood's stamina even more impressive.

The red-helmeted fighter was still holding his own, but with less bodies to focus on, Dick did notice after a few minutes that the vigilante was beginning to grow tired ever so slightly. A layperson never would have spotted any flaw in his performance, but after years of training with Batman Dick couldn’t help but recognize that with every minute the fight went on, Red Hood’s attacks grew sloppier and less precise, diminishing the powerful impact that he needed to stand a chance against the Sharks. In return, more and more of the Sharks’ own blows managed to break through Red Hood’s defences, eliciting increasingly audible groans of pain from him until he was eventually receiving as many hits as he was dishing out.

Dick had been wrong. So very wrong. Red Hood wasn’t winning.

Red Hood was … losing, Dick realized in horrified amazement.

This guy had beaten Batman and Robin to a pulp. On more than one occasion. And yet here he was, slowly but surely being worn down by a bunch of bikers. If he couldn’t defeat the Sharks, then who possibly could? Apparently, Red Hood had a similarly desperate thought, since he then struck Enrique’s head with a devastating spin-kick that sent him to the ground. Enrique wasn’t unconscious yet, but the attack had seemingly wrecked him enough for the Shark to crawl away and vanish into the shadows. Even Wade couldn’t believe what was happening, giving Red Hood a brief moment of reprieve to yell after Enrique, “Yeah, that’s right, crawl away, you fucking coward!”

Turning back towards Wade, Red Hood got to fighting instantly. Having to face off against only one opponent, the vigilante was able to focus his energy and skills more effectively than before and held his own against Wade, who was clearly the strongest of the four Sharks. Still, Dick knew from his own experience that the amount of time you were able to keep up that level of intensity was finite. Whoever would crack first under the pressure would be the loser, and even though the two men looked pretty evenly matched right now, Wade’s body still struck Dick as fresher and more energized than Red Hood’s.

Dick was so zeroed in on the brawl in front of him that he didn’t even notice Enrique returning sneakily from the shadows until he was standing right behind Red Hood, with a crow bar raised above his head. “Red Hood, behind you!!”, Dick screamed as loudly as he could, flexing his bruised abs to get some air into his lungs, desperate to warn him. If Red Hood lost, Dick would be all but dead too. But before the vigilante could react, Enrique smashed the crow bar down against the red helmet, putting a massive crack in its hull and sending its bearer sprawling across the floor. With Red Hood finally vulnerable and exposed on the ground, Wade and Enrique wasted no time and stared raining down kicks against his already damaged helmet, broadening the crack with every impact, until at last another blow from Enrique’s crow bar made the helmet break apart altogether and Red Hood’s head slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Dick couldn’t believe it.

The man who had fought Batman and Robin to a standstill was down, just like the man behind the Nightwing mask. They were both done for. The Sharks had won.

Still lying on his back and far too weak to lift himself up, there was much not that Dick could see of the vigilante’s now exposed head, aside from the fact that he had dark hair like Dick.

“Who is this punk?”, Wade asked curiously as he circled around the prone figure, a question that Dick had himself. As a result, both the Sharks and the original Boy Wonder were too drawn to Red Hood’s head to notice the vigilante’s hand slowly gripping the handle of his gun on his belt. Then, in a movement far too swift for Dick’s tired brain, Red Hood’s arm shoot upward and –

BANG! BANG!

– two gun shots erupted and Wade’s and Enrique’s bodies instantly fell to the ground with a dull thud. Groaning loudly in an unmodualted voice that revealed a deep raspy tone, Red Hood got off the ground, his back still turned towards Dick. Looking at the bodies of the two dead Sharks, he grunted, “That’s for ruining my helmet.” Then he shocked Dick and shot two more bullets into the other two unconscious Sharks respectively. “And that’s for using a fucking crow bar on me.” Pools of blood were spreading under the leather-clad bodies of the four Sharks.

“Wait!”, Dick yelled, summoning his strength in order to raise himself up to his knees first, and then onto his feet. “Why – urgh – why did you kill them?” His leather-framed bare abs were heaving with pain and exhaustion from just getting up.

Without turning around, Red Hood said, “Would you rather they killed you?”

Now that he was no longer grunting aggressively, Red Hood’s raspy voice sounded distantly familiar to Dick.

“No, of course not, but … why did you wait until they almost beat you? You could have killed them immediately, but you didn’t. Why?” Dick honestly wanted to know. If it hadn’t been for his gun, Red Hood would have been a goner too, just like Dick, but it almost seemed as if he hadn't wanted to kill them right away. He'd only resorted to the gun when he'd had no other choice left.

“Someone told me a long time ago that revenge and justice are not the same thing. I try to remember that, but sometimes I … black out in anger and … forget.” Red Hood’s voice drifted away at the last word.

Revenge and justice are not the same thing.

That had been one of Bruce’s first lessons when Dick had begun his training as Robin all these years ago. He had been driven by a thirst for revenge, to make the murderer of his parents feel the same pain that he had felt without them. But through patience and understanding, Dick had eventually learnt that vengeance would never fill the hole in his heart that his parents had left. “The pain of losing a loved one never goes away”, Bruce had said. “The only thing we can do is learn to live with that pain and be thankful for the days that we shared with our loved ones, instead of resenting the days that we didn’t get to share with them. “

It had been a rare moment of emotional guidance from Bruce, and one of Dick's most valuable lessons, one that had shown Dick that the true meaning of Robin was not to cause more darkness, but instead to bring light into the darkness. The lesson had given Dick so much insight into himself but also into Bruce that he had passed it on himself to Jason when Dick had started patrolling with him regularly. In his early Robin days, Jason’s old Crime Alley aggression and fury still shone through, often making him injure his opponents more than necessary. That’s when Dick had stepped in. “Revenge and justice are not the same thing, Robin. The more uncalled-for pain you cause to others”, he’d told Jason after one patrol, “the more uncalled-for pain you will eventually cause to yourself.” Jason had laughed it off and called him stupid in the moment, but the next time Dick had seen him, there had been a subtle but noticeable difference in his style of fighting. Still street-tough, but no longer unnecessarily so. Dick had been immensely proud of Jason that night.

Jason.

That voice. That’s why it sounded so familiar. It sounded like Jason’s. But it also didn’t.

How could that be?

It couldn’t be.

…Right?...

Red Hood made to move when Dick interrupted him again, calling, “Wait!” once more, and then more quietly, “Who are you? I feel like … I know you.”

Red Hood hesitated for a moment, then he spoke softly, “You did. Once. But not anymore.”

There was that voice again. It couldn’t be. Yet the voice almost magically compelled Dick’s hand to move as if on its own accord, gently touching Red Hood’s left shoulder and turning him around slowly.

Dick gasped when he saw his face. The face had changed. It was sharper, edgier, more ruthless. The black bangs were now mixed with a single strand of white in the middle. But despite these changes, it was still the same face he knew. A face that had still worn the domino mask of Robin only a few years ago. A face that could light up even the gloomiest room with its cheeky smile. A face that he had grown to love more than anything in the world.

A face that had been buried.

The face of his brother.

The face of Jason Todd.

“Jason?!”, Dick whispered breathlessly, as if afraid that saying his name out loud would make Jason disappear into thin air. “You’re … alive?” Tears began to blur his vision as Dick tentatively touched Jason’s bruised cheeks with his hands to make sure that he was not hallucinating this.

“How?”, was all he could manage in his state of disbelief.

“Why don’t you go ahead and ask the old man? I’m sure he can give you an answer.” Cold anger had returned to Jason’s voice. “Unless of course he’s too busy training the Replacement.”

The last word broke Dick’s heart into a million little pieces.

“Oh Little Wing!”

Dick opened his arms to embrace his little brother like he had so many times before, but instead Jason spat, “Don’t you fucking DARE call me that!!!” Suddenly, the dark natural green of Jason’s eyes that has always reminded Dick of the trees surrounding Wayne Manor turned into an unnatural acid tone more reminiscent of the Joker. The next second, Jason smacked his fist right into Dick’s face, felling him to the ground and briefly knocking the senses out of his already broken body.

When Dick regained his vision and looked up, Jason was nowhere to be seen. Only the red fragments of his broken helmet were left behind. Dick remained on the ground, too weak to get up for now, but at least that gave him a moment to process what had just happened.

Tonight had been one of the worst nights of Dick’s life. He had been humiliated. Verbally. Physically. Even sexually. His body had been exposed and beaten like it never had before. His psyche had been wrecked so thoroughly that it would take lots of therapy for him to rebuild his confidence and put on the Nightwing suit again. But in spite of all that horror, it had been one of the greatest nights of Dick’s life, as well.

Jason was alive. His brother. His Little Wing. And this time, Dick would not let him slip away. Not ever again.

Chapter Text

Sorry for the lack of responses and updates. The past week as been deeply traumatic. My mom suddenly passed away and I feel at a complete loss for words. It will take me some time to get back to writing, so it will be a while until the next chapter. Please bear with me. I will definitely continue and finish this story as intended, but it will take a bit longer than planned.

Always expect the unexpected from life, and never take anything or anyone for granted, especially the ones you love the most.

Chapter Text

“Argh, goddammit”, Jason cursed as heaved himself through the window of his Blüdhaven safe house and dropped onto the floor of the sparsely furnished living room. Resting his back against the pale wall, he sighed exhaustedly and lifted the red helmet off his sweaty head with his gloved hands, immediately thankful to be breathing somewhat fresh air again. This night had been pretty rough, the roughest he’d had in a while, and it was no surprise as to why. Tonight, Red Hood had had his first encounter with the Haven Sharks ever since he’d offed the four bikers that had gotten their hands on Dick three months ago. Jason had no idea how word could have spread that he had been responsible for the Sharks’ deaths, considering that he had indeed killed all potential witnesses (Dick excluded), but apparently it had spread, and so the trio of Sharks that he had run into tonight had been none too pleased to see him.

Having learned his lesson from his first fight, Red Hood had entered this one more strategically, always careful to keep a fail-safe way to escape in case things went south like last time. Even though he had fared better overall and managed to knock the Sharks out without killing them, they had not gone down without putting him through the ringer first yet again. Aside from their scarily good fighting skills that easily matched Red Hood’s own technique, they had learned a lesson from their late gang peers and had started bearing guns with them, putting several bullets into Red Hood’s Kevlar vest. When he'd successfully disarmed them, the Sharks had still managed to put him in a strangle hold and had almost punched his abs to jelly. Once again, his protective armour had saved him. Without it, the Sharks, who had visibly been out for his blood, would have done the same things they’d done to Dick, or worse. Either way, his Kevlar vest had softened the Shark’s gut punching enough for Red Hood to use a fleeting moment of carelessness on the side of his tormentors and finally break out of the strangle hold and somehow turn the tide.

Then, just when Red Hood had thought the fight to be over and was cuffing the Sharks up, one of them had pulled a knife from underneath their jacket and rammed it straight into Red Hood’s right thigh, earning a prompt knock-out kick to the head from his other leg in return. Luckily, the stab wound hadn’t been critical, but it had caused him enough pain to have to limp back to his bike and up the fire escape towards his apartment. How he had managed to keep his treasured leather jacket unscathed throughout the whole process was a miracle to Jason, but one that he was insanely thankful about. His love for leather was one of the few character traits of his old self that had not been washed away by the magical liquid of the Lazarus Pit.

His first fight against the Sharks three months ago had also been the reason why he had even established this safe house in Blüdhaven in the first place. Thinking back to that night, Jason wasn’t sure what exactly had compelled him to follow Dick all the way to Blüdhaven. Since his return to Gotham, he had made it a firm point to make Batman’s life as miserable as possible without downright exposing his secret identity – which he easily could have, let’s be honest. The rage that Jason had felt at not getting rescued by his father and mentor had intensified to the umpteenth degree upon seeing how quickly he had taken a new black-haired boy under his wing. Fuelled by nothing but Pit-heightened hatred and fury, Red Hood had put all his energy into ensuring that Batman would soon have yet another Robin to bury, and he would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for the old man’s annoying interference time and time again.

Strangely enough, Nightwing had been nowhere to be seen during Red Hood’s initial crusade against the Bat, which had seemed odd, because during Jason’s Robin days, Nightwing had joint them on missions in Gotham quite frequently, once they’ gotten over their initial awkwardness. Thus, Jason’s ears had perked up one night while he had been sitting on the edge of one of Gotham’s many high-rise buildings, enjoying a well-deserved smoke break, when he’d suddenly heard the familiar roar of Dick’s Triumph, which Jason could have singled out of a million motorcycles. Looking down at the intersection below him, there he was, waiting for the traffic lights to switch to green. The one and only Dick Grayson in his iconic Urban Knights leather gear.

Seeing the man he'd once called his big brother again even at a distance, the man to whom he had looked up to so thoroughly prior to his death, made Jason feel weird. It wasn’t the same fiery resentment that he had developed towards Batman and Robin, but it was not the happy fraternal bond from his past either. Whatever it was though was powerful enough for Jason to quickly get down towards his own bike in the alley below and hit the road in pursuit of his predecessor. Following the Triumph, he was not surprised in the least to see Dick head towards Blüdhaven. Jason deliberately kept a distance between them, so as not to draw Dick's attention, but because of that he lost track of him once they entered the city, despite the little amount of traffic in the middle of the night. He rode around the city centre and then past Dick’s apartment, but there was no sign of him. Cursing himself, Red Hood continued for a few minutes until pulling over near a service station and bringing his bike to a hold. He had just pulled out his phone, hoping to hack into the Bats’ communication system to track Dick’s location when he heard their voices.

“You see now, Circus Boy? You thought you could just walk in here with your pretty boy leather ass like you own the place and tell us what’s what? Well unlike you, we are MEN who have actually earned the right to wear leather. And now we’ll show you what happens to pretty boys who haven’t.”

His curiosity triggered, Red Hood peeked around the corner of the service station, discovering a disturbing scene. Dick was on the ground, his bare abs visible underneath his unzipped leather jacket, and surrounded by what looked to be four leather bikers, one of whom was pressing his foot into Dick’s groin. A deep sense of unease spread in Red Hood’s chest upon seeing the man the original Boy Wonder like that. Dick was m*therfucking Nightwing! How could he be bested like that by a bunch of bikers? This was alarming, to say the least. Also, the only man allowed to torment Dick Grayson was Red Hood, he decided right then and there. So with a shot into the shoulder of the biker tormenting Dick’s balls, Red Hood caught their attention and slowly walked towards the group. With each step, he got a better look of Dick’s condition, and Red Hood’s unease grew. Red Hood had seen Nightwing in precarious situations before, but he had never witnessed him being this utterly helpless. Not only had these guys taken Dick to the ground. Judging by the bright redness of his exposed chest, they had used him as a human punching bag. How could he let this happen? Dick has been trained by Batman for years; his body was the closest thing to physical perfection that a mortal human without any super powers could achieve. If these guys could crack Dick like that, they could crack anybody.

Worst of all, though, was the crotch of Dick’s leather pants. It was visibly swollen and bore precum stains around what had to be the head of Dick’s shaft. These fuckers have been jerking Dick off in his leathers, Red Hood figured disgustedly. From his teenage days he remembered only all too well how easy it was to get aroused wearing the tight leather of the Urban Knights trousers even if you had the sufficient will power to resist it – will power that Dick most likely had lost after the devastating beating of abs. These bikers had first dismantled Dick physically, and once he’d been sufficiently weakened, they’d started edging him too. But how could they even have gotten the better of him in the first place? Even without his Nightwing gear and the added handicap of his civilian identity, Dick should have been able to handle a bunch of bikers easily. Right? How had this happened? Yes, Red Hood had lost track of Dick’s bike, but even so, these guys could have only had a few minutes alone with the original Robin. A few minutes were enough for them to leave Dick like this?! Beaten and aroused against his will?

Spilling out taunt after taunt against the bikers to divert their attention away from Dick, Red Hood was glad that they couldn’t see his concerned expression under the helmet, otherwise they would have rightly called bullshit on the cocky tough guy façade he was putting on. Dick had always been a better fighter than him; even though Jason had significantly toughened and bulked up since his resurrection and had been able to beat both Batman and Robin bloody, he still hadn’t reached the skill level of his predecessor. If these bikers had been able to do this to the original Boy Wonder, what would they do to his lesser copycat?

While Red Hood had had a hard time imagining how these guys could have been a threat to Dick on first sight, that confusion cleared away shockingly fast when he started fighting them himself. These bikers, who rightly called themselves Sharks, were deadly, each of them combining all the best – or in this case worst – traits of the Bat family in one person: the muscle strength of Batman, the agility of Nightwing, and the cleverness of Robin. He could not believe the rapidity and the strength of the punches that were raining down on him. Red Hood had been so used to being the dominating party in a fight that he’d had no strategy should he ever land on the receiving end. Ever since his resurrection, the only opponent even remotely on his level had been Batman. The wimpy new Robin couldn’t hold a candle to him, and Red Hood absolutely would have put him in the ground several times over long ago if it hadn't been for the old man.

This situation, though, was different and new, and it made Red Hood feel out of his element like a fish out of water. For every blow he managed to land on the Sharks, it seemed like they were landing at least five in return on him. Not even his Pit-energized body could withstand that kind of assault indefinitely. In no time, then, the Sharks had Red Hood sweating profusely underneath his helmet, just from barely trying to keep up with them. Not even the modulator of his helmet could cover up the building groans of exhaustion in his voice. Red Hood may have become much more powerful since his death, but the mere act of trying to keep up with the Sharks while wearing his heavy helmet and armour was draining his energy reserves fast – too fast if he wanted to get Dick to safety and also live to tell the tale.

This can’t be happening! These guys are beating me!! I’m losing!!!

When he’d finally managed to knock out two of the Sharks and scare another one away after a vicious jump kick, Red Hood was faced with the Shark whom he assumed to be the leader of the group, a strikingly handsome black biker in leather clothes almost as tight as Dick’s. With only one opponent to focus on, Red Hood’s performance improved ever so slightly, but it nonetheless was getting pretty obvious to both him and the Shark that Red Hood was slowly but surely getting outclassed and was fighting a losing battle. Despite the added strength afforded to him by the Lazarus pit, Jason had simply lacked the stamina he needed to engage the Sharks for such a prolonged period of time. The fight was tiring him out, and they both knew it, proving the self-proclaimed crime lord of Gotham to be no match for the thugs in her sister city, Those panicking thoughts were just beginning to fill Jason’s head when he heard Dick’s raspy voice shout “Red Hood, behind you!”. Before he had any time to react, a sharp and heavy object was  smashed against the back of his helmet, instantly making Red Hood see stars and his head ring with pain as if the bells of Gotham Cathedral was swinging in his now fractured head gear. He had taken many blows in just a few minutes, but this had been one blow too many, and so the not-so-mighty vigilante sunk to the ground, defeated and exposed, while his vanquishers started bombarding his head with devastating kicks. With each impact, Red Hood had felt the chink in his helmet widen gradually, until it eventually fell apart completely with a loud CRACK, revealing his sweat-drained head to the night-time sky of Blüdhaven.

The red helmet, the insignia of his new identity as a vigilante, had been destroyed by a gang of mere bikers. He had smugly come to save his brother Dick Grayson, but now he had needed a saviour himself. Once more, Jason was down on the ground, helplessly getting beaten by a bunch of far superior men above him, one of them even holding a crow bar to add insult to injury. Memories flashed in his brain while he was trying to regain his senses. A warehouse in Ethiopia. A black-haired boy in a Robin costume bleeding out on the ground. The manic laughter of a madman echoing through the deserted warehouse.

Overconfidence had gotten Jason Todd killed once before; now it was going to kill him yet again.

Suddenly then, an acid green haze took over Red Hood’s mind and his body began to act on autopilot. The next thing he knew, he was standing back up, panting and in pain, the bodies of the death bikers bleeding out around him. In his leather-gloved right hand he was holding the pistol that had still been at his waist seconds earlier. It was Dick’s exhausted voice that finally brought Red Hood back into the here and now

“Wait! Why – urgh – why did you kill them?

“Would you rather they killed you?”, he answered, keeping his back to Dick.

“No, but … why did you wait until they almost beat you? You could have killed them immediately, but you didn’t. Why?”

How could he explain this? A naïve, childishly deluded part of him had figured that he’d be able to take down the bikers through physical strength alone. The part of him that hadn’t seen what they’d just done to Dick. The part of him that had once been a cocky, but innocent street rat on Crime Alley. That part had also remembered a lesson from the past that revenge and justice are not the same thing, and that the more uncalled-for pain you cause to others, the more uncalled-or pain you would eventually cause to yourself. The part of him that had learned to protect, not destroy.

But that part of him had eventually been overpowered by another part of him. One that was not naïve, innocent, and protective. This part had sought to ravage and obliterate everything and everyone in his way, and make the world explode in bright green fire. The part that constantly filled his head with manic laughter that he could only chase away by inflicting violence.

“Someone told me a long time ago that revenge and justice are not the same thing. I try to remember that, but sometimes I … “, Red Hood struggled to find the words, “black out in anger and … forget.”

Forget. Like most of his prior life. Everything that he’d cherished once in his life had fallen into an impenetrable emerald fog of oblivion. Meanwhile, the things that he had so desperately wanted to forget kept chasing him like bloodthirsty hyenas running through the savanna, no matter how many bullets he fired at them. Jason had toughened up, having grown close in strength to both Batman and Nightwing. But despite his leather-clad muscles on the outside, on the inside he was still a scared little Bird Boy who died alone, after his biological mother had betrayed him to the Joker.

Deciding that he’d ruminated in his trauma long enough, Red Hood made to move when Dick’s voice once more held him back.

 “Wait! Who are you? I feel like … I know you.”

 “You did. Once. But not anymore.” And it was true. Jason Todd may still have been alive, but the Jason Todd that was Dick Grayson’s little brother had died two years ago in Ethiopia.

Why then didn't he jerk away when he felt a gloved hand on the shoulder of his jacket, gently turning him around? Red Hood could have easily snapped Dick’s fingers in half before he could have gotten a glimpse of his now helmet-less face. But he didn't. He let it happen. Until the world came to a stop and Red Hood stood face to face with Dick Grayson, staring into his deep, ocean blue eyes which began to fill with tears. As if in disbelief, the older man tenderly touched Red Hood’s bruised cheeks and whispered slowly, “Jason?! “You’re … alive? How?”

Spotting Dick from afar had been one thing. Even seeing him on the ground, physically and sexually tortured, had somehow been manageable to Red Hood. But this closeness to him, to the genuine concern in his eyes for someone else, despite what he had just gone through himself, and the unconditional and unwavering love that radiated from his raspy voice – it was all too much. It  sparked a flame in Jason – a flame of remembrance, a flame of brotherhood, a flame of home – that had to be extinguished immediately, so he went for what he knew to be Dick’s number 1 weak spot.

His bad fraternal conscience.

“Why don’t you go ahead and ask the old man? I’m sure he can give you an answer. Unless of course he’s too busy training the Replacement.”

But instead off repelling Dick away, the venom in Red Hood’s voice  only drew him in closer.

“Oh Little Wing!”, he exclaimed, opening his arms to pull Red Hood into a hug.

These words, the words that he’d heard Dick say so many times – each time spoken with nothing but love – that he’d lost count, sent him over the edge and made his eyes turn green again. Dick was just like Bruce. Pretending to be caring and loving and all that bullshit. But in a moment when he’d actually needed his big brother’s advice, where had that brother been? On a different fucking planet with his true pals, too busy to even answer his pesky little brother’s phone call before he’d gone off to Ethiopia to fucking die. Small miracle that Dick hadn’t reclaimed the Robin moniker for himself. Now that he had finally gotten rid of the pretender again. Same with the Joker still being alive. Hell, Dick and Bruce had probably sent him a Thank you! card for clipping Robin’s wings. “Don’t you fucking DARE call me that!!!”, Red Hood  spat, clenching his right first and then smacking it full-force into Dick’s head, who’d instantly gone down.

After that, Jason had quickly run back to his bike – leaving the remnants of his broken helmet behind in the dirt – and hit the road, the green haze in his vision only blurring away after a few minutes of wind sweeping past his bare head on the high way. Once he’d returned to his safe house in Gotham, he’d quickly shrugged off his leather jacket and Kevlar vest and gone into the bath room to inspect his wounds. Jason had gasped when he’d seen his shirtless torso in the mirror. His entire body was black and blue with bruises. Despite the protective armour that he wore, the Sharks had turned his ripped muscles into a purple impressionistic art work that was almost as colourful as his old Robin suit. When he tentatively touched one of his eight-pack abs with his gloved hand, pain had immediately shot though Jason’s body and he couldn’t help but wince. If Jason excluded his death at the hands of the Joker, this had been the worst beating of his still young life, and he had only been able to save himself by resorting to the one thing that he had sworn to give up after his first crime raids as Red Hood had gotten out of hand: murder. Although it had been for his own protection and Dick’s, the Red Hood persona had made Jason a killer once more, and a failure as a vigilante. A true superhero would have found a non-lethal way to defeat the Sharks. But Jason was no superhero. He was a lonely boy in a man’s body, whose psyche was as broken as the helmet he’d lost tonight. After this beatdown, Jason would have to repair a lot more than just his head gear.

So after that night, Jason had taken a few days off from his Red Hood routine, not only to build himself a new helmet, but also to clear his head and regain the confidence he’d need to survive in Gotham’s underworld. While he’d eventually succeeded at leaving his encounter with the Sharks behind, though, someone else apparently had not. After a couple of weeks back in the game, Red Hood had overheard a few thugs gossiping about Blüdhaven and how apparently Nightwing hadn’t been seen for almost three weeks – or, as Red Hood had calculated in his head, ever since the Sharks’ ambush of Dick. Normally, Nightwing could be seen swinging across the Blüdhaven roof tops almost every night, but there had been no trace of him. He had disappeared into thin air, leaving the city to its own devices and thus letting it become a criminal Eden.

The next day, therefore, Red Hood had taken a detour to Blüdhaven, stopping by Dick’s apartment, which was deserted as if nobody had been inside for several days. Next, he'd hacked his way into the databases of Büdhaven PD. Aside from the terrifyingly steep increase in criminal activity recently, Red Hood had found that Office Grayson had gone on sick leave two weeks ago and had been yet to return. So both Dick Grayson and Nightwing were MIA, a thought that shouldn’t have worried Red Hood as much as it had.

Not wanting to let his brother’s predecessor’s legacy in the city go to waist, Red Hood therefore had begrudgingly established a safe house in Blüdhaven and started to alternate his activities between the sister cities. The expansion of his criminal network had given him a perfect guise to do so, when in fact he had actually been stepping in for Nightwing, trying to keep the rising chaos in the city at bay. Still, Red Hood’s capacities were limited, as was his knowledge of Dick’s home town. More than once, he had gotten in over his head into situations that he should have stayed out of, and tonight it had finally escalated with him running into the Haven Sharks, the one group of criminals that he had been trying to avert the whole time. Even though Red Hood had been victorious this round, the beating they had given him beforehand, not to mention the nasty stab wound to his leg, had reminded why he had been avoiding them so much. ‘Blüdhaven for Beginners’ – Lesson 1: if you a bunch of Haven Sharks point at you and say “Let’s get him, boys”, you don’t fight back. You run. But of course, Jason, being the overconfident street rat that he was, had fought back, and the pain-stricken body that was resting against the wall of his raggedy apartment right now was the result of that overconfidence.

Trying to lift himself up from the living-room floor of his safe house, his injured leg flared up in agony as soon as Jason put some weight on it. “Arrrghh”, he grimaced again, limping weakly to the bath room to retrieve his medical kit. Why did every encounter with the Haven Sharks end with Jason stumbling through his apartment like a war invalid? What kind of vigilante was he if he let some bikers rip him apart like that every time he fought them? Shouldn't they be the ones worried by him, and not vice versa? Yet, with Nightwing gone and Blüdhaven in his lone care, he had to use the medical kit far more often than he would like to admit. In many ways, the criminals of Blüdhaven were like Blüdhaven itself: not as organized and fanciful as those of Gotham, but way dirtier instead and thus arguably just as deadly. Strangely enough, that attitude should make the city the ideal place for Jason, who’s always been rougher around the edges than his Golden Boy predecessor. Still, right now, the city was eating him up alive faster than he could say ‘crowbar’.

Having found the medical kit in the bath room cupboard, Jason limped back into the living room, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg this time and thinking something that he’d never say out loud: Blüdhaven needed Nightwing. Hell, Red Hood needed Nightwing. If Red Hood had to take care of this city on his own for much longer, it would only be a matter of time before the resurrected vigilante would find himself in the ground yet again.

With a loud hmpfh, Jason let himself plummet into the old, worn-out sofa and slump down against its headrest. Then he began to discard himself of his Red Hood regalia, until he was merely dressed in his black boxer briefs. Remembering how calloused and bruised his hands were from the past weeks, he kept his leather gloves on. Then he began the annoyingly painful process of first cleaning out his stab wound and stitching and patching it up. “Fuck”, he cursed, as the sting of the antiseptic touching his injured leg shot through his body. No matter how many times you take a bath in the Lazarus Pit, the agony of tending any open wound will never go away. Some hero he was.

When he was done, he let his head fall back onto the rest of the sofa and closed his eyes, waiting for the stinging pain to subside. When it did, Jason looked down along his now almost naked body again and marvelled silently at the muscles he had gained since coming back from the dead. Every now and then, he was overcome by those moments of sheer disbelief. Jason had never been a wimpy little kid. Before he had been taken in by Bruce, his thinness had mainly been the result of living on the street and having hardly any food to sustain himself. But once he had been gifted regular access to the incomparable cuisine of one Alfred Pennyworth and became Robin, Jason quickly developed a healthy and athletic body with toned muscles befitting the posture of a superhero’s sidekick. Still he had always felt a slight ping of jealousy at his older brother’s body. Dick’s body had always struck Jason as the embodiment of masculine perfection. Every muscle defined within an inch of its life, but without the grossly excessive overabundance of flesh you often saw on body builders.

Now though, Jason’s muscles had grown just as ripped as Dick’s and from the brief encounter with him a few months ago, Jason could swear that he was taller and more broadly shouldered than his brother predecessor too. The Little Wing had grown bigger than the Big Bird himself, he mused with a slight smirk on his face. The smirk didn’t stay on his face for long though, when Jason remembered that this physical growth still had not helped him at all in his fights against the Sharks. They had done a number on him every time regardless, a number that still stung his ego way more than any stab wound ever could.

Maybe that’s why he had seen red – or rather green – when Dick had dared to call him Little Wing that night. It was a reminder of the boy he’d once been but no longer was. The helpless boy who had been left alone by his family to die in a bomb explosion in Ethiopia. That boy had been buried, as the almost invisible autopsy scars across Jason’s otherwise smoothly chiselled chest reminded him every time he took his clothes off – so that boy could stay buried, too, for all he cared.

Thinking about his big brother Dick, Jason inspected the leather gloves that he was wearing: black, thin but tight and durable. They were the first thing he had gotten when he’d started out as Red Hood, together with his by-now trade mark brown leather jacket. To say they looked roughed up would be a gross understatement. In a sense, they were just like the man, whose hands they were covering: fucked up but somehow still persisting against all odds. The way that the thin layer of leather clung tightly to his hands reminded Jason of the Urban Knights gloves he had gotten from Dick years ago.

Dick…

Urban Knights…

Leather…

Perhaps it was this nostalgic thought that prompted Jason to lift his right glove towards his nose and cover it with its palm. With a deep breath, he inhaled its sweaty, masculine scent and instantly memories of another close encounter with the masculine scent of a leather-clad body invaded Jason’s mind.

Dick, dressed in his Urban Knights gear…

Riding his bike…

Jason sitting behind him, also dressed in Urban Knights leather…

Dick grinding his ass into Jason’s boner…

Jason jerking off Dick’s equally hard member through his tight trousers…

As the memory of that ride and the scent of the leather gloves took over his mind, Jason hardly noticed his left hand reaching for his boxer briefs and beginning to massage his manhood, which was already halfway erect, through the thin cotton. It didn’t take long until the briefs were full-on tenting and the first drops of precum were leaking from the tip. The pleasure was beyond words. Jason had not had any sexual activity since his resurrection so there was no way he could resist the sensual power of leather and the sexual memories that it uncovered. It was like his very first teenage masturbation all over again.

The sensation was simply euphoric. Had this happened for real? Dick and Jason edging each other on while riding Dick’s Triumph and being fully decked out in Urban Knights leather? Jason couldn’t tell if it actually had, or if his horny subconscious was playing tricks on his beaten body, but if it had happened, then the real experience in the moment would have to have been out of this world, even more so than the one he was imagining right now.

Suddenly, Jason’s memory transformed again.

Dick and Jason…

Standing in an abandoned bath room…

Jerking each other off, the flies of their leather pants open…

Inhaling the scent of his gloves once more, Jason groaned deeply and arched his torso upward. The next second, a huge load of cum shot into his boxer briefs, soaking through the clinging fabric and flowing down Jason’s swollen crotch. Urrghh, he groaned ecstatically. Quickly, Jason pulled off the glove from the hand he had been jerking himself off with, and started scooping up all the jizz that had soaked through his underwear. Then, he remembered himself licking off Dick’s cum-covered hand and started doing the same with his own hand right now until there were no remains of man juice left on it. "Mmmhhh", he relished contentedly. Unfortunately, the taste of Dick’s cum was lost in the green haze of the Pit, but if the enticing blend of sweetness and saltiness courtesy of Jason’s own cum was any indication, then Dick’s had to taste simply heavenly.

Pondering the fact that Jason had actually possibly tasted Dick’s cum – even if it was just off of his fingers – he realized that the two had not just been brothers, no matter how much Jason wanted to deny it. They had been more than brothers. Far more than brothers. Lovers? No, that had not quite been right, either. At least then. But now looking back at their relationship prior to his death, Jason couldn't help but recognize that he'd always had had special feelings for Dick. Feelings that had been slumbering in the background and had awoken with a rush that fateful Friday night when Dick had walked into Wayne Manor wearing his Urban Knights leathers. Had there been a romantic spark hidden underneath that wave of emotions? A spark that Jason had been been unable - or too afraid - to acknowledge, but which was now becoming too blazing to ignore? Either way, theirs had been a special kind of bond, a unique degree of closeness. A bond that exceeded the existing vocabulary and categories of human relationships. A bond – Jason had to admit to himself as the exhaustion of tonight’s patrol and his orgasm overcame him fast – that he needed in his life. More than anything else.

It was not just the city of Blüdhaven and Red Hood that needed Dick Grayson. It was also Jason Todd who needed him. Desperately.

How then could he finally silence the angry, Pit-fuelled voice inside him, shouting at him to put a bullet in Dick’s head at the same time?

Torn between the tension of reigniting his connection to his brother on the one hand and pushing him away for good on the other, Jason took a few nights off from patrolling to let his injury heal and instead simply drove around Gotham and Blüdhaven in alternation for a bit, making a shocking discovery half way through: Dick’s Triumph was standing back out side of his old apartment. The lights above were off, but there was no mistaking it. This was Dick’s bike, the one and only.

Some research and hacking later confirmed Jason’s observation. Dick was indeed back in town, having gone back to work a few days ago. Still, despite Dick Grayson’s return to Blüdhaven, Nightwing was nowhere to be seen. Making some nonchalant inquiries through the underworld grapevine, nobody had seen any trace of the blue bird in months, not even recently.

This was more than worrisome, Jason thought. Ever since his child hood, he had thought of Dick Grayson as the bravest, most courageous person he knew. Overcoming the death of his parents, creating Robin, and then later creating Nightwing, too. He had been a shining light of hope to so many people for so long, despite his young age. But now it seemed as if that light had gone out. Even though Jason had not witnessed all of it, it was as if Dick’s beatdown, not to mention the non-consensual jerking, at the hands of the Shark had crushed him so thoroughly that he could no longer brace himself to put on the Nightwing suit again, regardless of what that might mean to the city he had once sworn to protect with his life.

One part of Jason, the part clouded in acid-green fog, wanted to sneer at Dick and kick him while he was down. Finally realized what a joke you are, Dickwing? The oh so mighty Boy Wonder, getting beaten to pieces and raped by a bunch of bikers? I wonder what Daddybats would say if he’d seen you like this? Too bad the Sharks didn’t finish ya off for good.

But the other part of him wanted to find Dick, grab his shoulders and shake some confidence back into him. You re Dick motherf*cking Grayson. THE Boy Wonder. You were born to soar and fly, not to stay tethered to the ground forever.

Fight back, Dick!

You’re stronger than this!

Jason’s mind was becoming a shouting match between these two voices. The more time passed since Dick’s return and the longer Nightwing stayed absent from Blüdhaven, the more concerned Jason became about what to do with him. Should he speak to him? Should he leave him be? Should he wait for Dick to approach him by himself, which was bound to happen sooner or later, knowing his big brother?

This obsessive concern with Dick took up more and more space in Jason’s head, dwarfing out any other concerns as a consequence, including Jason’s concern for himself and his own safety. His mind constantly worrying about his brother, Jason grew negligent, stopped caring about how his own life was on the line too 24/7 and began to make fatal errors.

Like failing to notice bombs that were planted on his bike.

Little over a month after Dick Grayson’s return, Red Hood was just rushing down Blüdhaven’s East End on the heels of a couple of Haven Sharks whose drug transaction he had busted minutes ago, when his bike went BOOM!!!

An explosive shock wave erupted underneath Red Hood's seat and and the vigilante was rocketed off his bike and smashed into the side of a nearby van, sensing several bones in his body fracturing instantly.

Overcome with pain, Red Hood collapsed onto the ground, barely conscious enough to perceive the burning wreck of his Ducati a few feet away from him and realizing how lucky he was to still be breathing at all.

Angrily he blinked away the tears that flooded his eyes upon seeing his bike go up in flames. His Ducati had been his most precious possession by far. Not as fancy as Dick's Triumph and certainly not the bike of his dreams, but still far more valuable than anything Jason had ever owned, excluding his old copy of Dorian Gray and his leather clothes. Still, ever since he had first ridden Dick’s Triumph years ago and had started taking driving lessons from him, Jason had dreamed of riding his very own bike. Now that dream lay in ruins, just like every other aspect of his life, too. Miraculously, at least his leather jacket had survived the explosion almost unscathed.

How could this happen?, he thought, trying to rationalize this disaster and make sense of the explosion. He checked his bike for any booby traps and external manipulations before and after every mission, and the bike had been perfectly clean when he’d started the night.

This could only mean one thing: somebody must have planted the explosive charge on his bike while he’d been inside the warehouse, taking care of the drug deal.

So the whole deal had been a trap!! A trap designed so that somebody could put their hands on Red Hood’s bike while he wasn’t looking. He needed to get away from here ASAP. The Sharks couldn’t have been far ahead from him then the bomb went off and surely would have noticed the explosion. If they found him like this – injured, weakened, and with no means of escape –  Red Hood would be dead meat.

Red Hood cursed his own fallibility and stupidity, but then he heard a police siren going off close to him. Too close to him. He had to get away, he decided. Even though the men from Blüdhaven PD were hardly known for their fierce fighting skills, Red Hood did not want to take any chances in his current condition. Besides, spilling police blood was one moral line he had not crossed yet, and did not intend to, either.

Yet, when he tried to lift himself off the ground, a burning pain shot through his left arm and Red Hood instantly sank to the ground again. The vigilante had barely any time to process his situation and how to get out of it when a pair of black police boots entered his field of vision. But instead of an unrelenting voice announcing that he was under arrest, Red Hood had an all-too familiar voice calling out in all-too familiar concern, “Jason, oh my god! Are you injured? Let me help you!”

Dick Grayson, dressed in a button-down shirt and the black Blüdhaven PD leather jacket came into view, his face shocked and worried all at once. Red Hood would be lying if he was not thankful for the strong hands gripping his shoulders and gently lifting him up so that he could sit with his back against the side of the smashed-in van, his legs still too weak to stand. With a growl, he pulled off his helmet and placed it on his right side, Dick crouching next to him on his left.

“What happened, Jason? I was in the neighbourhood when I heard the explosion, so I came by right away”.

“A bomb. On my bike", he panted. Somebody must have planted it while I was out on patrol”. After a beat of silence, he looked Dick in the eyes and added, “Probably the Sharks.”

Panic erupted in Dick’s face. “The Sharks?!” It took him a second to compose himself after that revelation. “What do you have to do with the Sharks? They can’t know that you killed their men that night, can they? Nobody was there but us! Why would you willingly deal with them?”

“Because Nightwing won’t! Because YOU won’t, Dick!”, Jason snarled, no longer caring about secret identities and stunning Dick into rare silence. “Because somebody has to, unless you want this city to go down the drain!” He didn’t mean his words to come out as aggressively as they did, but they were honest and truthful nonetheless. Frustration had been building inside of him for months, and now it had reached the breaking point.

Feeling his power slowly return to his body, Jason shakily rose to his feet, while Dick backed away and kept his distance from him, like a wary animal about to run from its predator at any second.

Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper against the burning wreck of Jason’s bike, Dick said, “So the rumours are true? You’ve been patrolling the city in my stead? I’d heard rumours about it in the department, but I couldn’t believe them, especially since nobody had any real evidence on it.”

Throwing his arm in the direction of his former bike, Jason yelled, “Is that enough evidence for you, Detective?! Yes, I did patrol this fucking city in your stead, and not just patrol. I fought with my life for this fucking city”, Jason shouted, practically hammering the chest of his vest with his right hand as tears once again invaded his eyes, “and you wanna know why, Dick? Because I didn’t want to let the legacy that you’d built over the years just collapse like a fucking house of cards. The legacy that YOU decided to just throw by the wayside and drive off in to the sunset on your fucking Triumph!”

“You don’t understand, Jason!”, Dick tried to reason, his eyes becoming teary as well and his voice starting to tremble.  “I just… I can’t be Nightwing. Not anymore. Not after that night. I’ve tried, but… I just can’t. Not after what they did to me…” Tears escaped his blue eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Jason wanted to wipe them away and embrace Dick in a never-ending hug, but also to punch him out of furious exasperation. He was just so unbelievably, unimaginably TIRED.

“Bullshit!”, Jason finally exclaimed, opting for a middle ground between his opposing urges. “You’re stronger than this, Dick, and you know it! You don’t think I know what they did to you? Any idea why I jumped in that night and didn’t let them just have their way with you? You think it was easy for me to see that? To see them do what they did to my bro- ”. Jason stopped himself, took a breath, no longer able to hold the tears in his own eyes at bay, and then continued, “to you?”

“I just feel so … dirty and weak and … like a failure”, Dick cried, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Well at least you’re not a failure who got himself blown to death”, Jason laughed humorlessly.

“Please don’t say that, Jason!” Dick was now crying openly and unabashedly. “You’re not a failure! We all still love you! I still love you! More than you could possibly imagine. You have no idea who much I’ve missed you. After that night, I immediately started looking for you everywhere. But I couldn’t find you and I just… had to get away from Blüdhaven a while. But when I came back and first heard rumours about you in the city, I instantly picked up my search again. Not just for Red Hood, but for Jason Todd. My little brother.”

“Well, here’s a hot take: Go look for him in the family cemetery of Wayne Manor. I hear there’s a Jason Todd lying buried there. Try him”, Jason joked coldly.

“Jason, please, just come back and let us help you deal with this together!” Dick was getting desperate and visibly had to restrain himself from clasping his brother. But he apparently knew better than to touch the agitated Red Hood right now.

“Oh wow, that’s rich coming from someone who refuses to seek help himself.”

“What do you mean?”, Dick responded softly, sounding genuinely confused.

“You let yourself drown in your own trauma!”, Jason cried out, sick and tired of Dick refusing to see the damn point.” Was that night traumatic beyond what any normal person could possibly imagine? Yes, absolutely. Heck, even I still have nightmares about it. Do those Haven fuckers deserve to rot in the deepest pit of Hell that Lucifer has to offer? You bet they do! But would the Dick Grayson that I know let himself be defined by that experience? Never. He would seek the help that he needs, confront his trauma face to face and turn what he thinks is his weakness into his strength to fight for the good cause! You need help, Dick? Then let me fucking help you!” Jason briefly paused to catch his breath, taking in Dick’s stunned face. He wanted to add, ‘I can’t stand seeing you suffer like this’, but couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Instead, he continued, “But stop acting like you’re not strong enough to go through this and come out on the other side intact, because you are. You’re the strongest person I know, Dick, but right now, you’re giving up, and to me, Robin was always about refusing to give up.”

A moment of silence, before Dick finally whispered back at him, “Then why did you give up on your family?”, and Jason wanted scream at the hurt tone in his brother’s voice.

“Because I no longer have one”, Jason eventually spoke with a relentlessly cold voice, his eyes shining greenly. Before Dick could respond, Jason set off a smoke grenade, grappled onto the roof of the building next to him and started the slow, bike-less way back to his safe house. The tears in his eyes had been washed away by green acid. If Nightwing was not willing to return to Blüdhaven, then Jason Todd was not willing to return to Wayne Manor.

Luckily for Jason, he received no signals from Dick, neither as a civilian nor as a vigilante, for the next fortnight, giving Jason sufficient time to assemble the pieces for a new and even better motorbike. Thinking about it, Jason also realized that Batman and Robin hadn’t popped up on his radar. Not now, and not after the night of the Sharks’ ambush on Dick, either. Jason would have bet his non-existent house that Dick would have run straight to Daddybats to tell him the good news about the prodigal son's return, but he apparently he had not. There is no way Batman would have stayed away otherwise. Could it be that Dick had kept the information that Jason was alive to himself, knowing very well what a sensitive topic Batman and Robin were to him? Had Dick actually been that thoughtful of Jason’s feelings all along?

That idea gave Jason a lump in his throat, a lump of unspoken, unprocessed, and hitherto unfelt emotion. The lump only grew larger two weeks after his explosive run-in with Dick, however, when Jason returned from his most recent patrol of Blüdhaven and pulled of his helmet.  On his living room table he found a large dark blue box. A box bearing the familiar logo of Urban Knights.

The image of the logo set off another flurry of memories in Jason’s mind.

Dick, singing along to a Shawn Mendes song…

A handsome man with blond hair and tattoos all over his muscular arms…

Jason, groaning loudly as he slipped on the Urban Knights leather trousers for the first time…

With shaking hands, Jason opened the box, finding a set of leather jacket, leather pants, and leather gloves in it. The Midnight collection – the same collection that Dick had bought him years ago.

Sensing a slight sting behind his eyes, Jason lifted the jacket out of the box, noticing that it was in a bigger size than this old gear which no longer fit his bulkier, post-Pit shape. Just when he wanted to put the jacket back in the box, he noticed a little piece of paper which apparently had been hid between the pants and the jacket.

With trembling fingers, he picked up the sheet of paper. It was a small blank white card that simply contained a little note, written in a familiar hand. It bore no signature, but it did not need one.

You still have a family.

You’re still my Little Wing.

Happy Birthday.

Immediately, Jason pulled out his phone to check the time. It was 2.30 am. On August 16. A date he had all but banned from his brain as an unwanted reminder of a boy he no longer was. The birthday of Jason Peter Todd. Son of Bruce Wayne. Brother of Richard John Grayson.

Turning the card around, Jason found a small key taped to its back. A key that bore the signature logo of Harley Davidson. Rushing to the window of the apartment, there was indeed a brand-new looking motorcycle standing on the side of the street out in front. It could only be his. No one else in this neighbourhood could afford anything close to a machine like that. For a minute, Jason couldn’t take his eyes off the motorcycle. Owning a Harley Davidson had been his biker dream ever since Dick had given him his first driving lesson years ago, although he could no longer remember telling Dick about it. When Jason finally looked back down at the note in his trembling hand to read its message again, the ink of the word ‘Birthday’ was already becoming smudged.

From a fallen tear.

Chapter Text

Blüdhaven was not a place that many people would call beautiful. Most of them would probably describe it as dirty, trashy, raggedy, and even dangerous. And sure enough, it arguably was all those things. But to Dick Grayson, it was also beautiful. Underneath all the trash bins that were irregularly emptied, infrastructure that hadn’t been maintained for decades and crime rates that were way too high for any one police department (let alone a corrupt one like Blüdhaven) to handle, Dick saw something unique and genuine. An authenticity that you could not fake or replace no matter how many millions of dollars you invested. And frankly, the fact that not a single foreign billionaire had attempted to gentrify the city spoke volumes.

To Dick, Blüdhaven was the most beautiful at night when the city turned into an ocean of light that was spectacularly mirrored in the actual ocean of Blüdhaven Bay. Like tonight. The infinity of little sparkles in the cloudless night-time sky only added to the scenery. In these moments, as he did right now, Dick could spend hours upon hours, just sitting on the roof of his old brown stone apartment complex and gazing out across the sparkling harbour, especially during the summer when the city could get unbearably hot. At night, though, temperatures could fall very quickly thanks to the proximity to the north Atlantic. Usually in these moments, Dick would have one of his many leather jackets at the ready to slip across his muscular arms and shoulders and keep his body warm.

But not tonight. Not anymore. Not after that night almost four months ago.

Since then, the only times when Dick Grayson could be seen in leather clothing was at work, wearing the customary black leather jackets of the Blüdhaven PD uniform. The jackets were slightly bulkier than Dick’s own leather clothing, so they didn’t make him feel like his body was being encased in tight fabric. That was the only reason he was even able to put them on, which was a struggle in itself. Even without the skinny fit, the alluring smell of the leather and the smooth tingling of the supple material had been enough to almost make him cry on the first try. Unsurprisingly, then, Dick’s Urban Knights leathers, the Nightwing suit – all of it had been hanging uselessly in his closet for months, insignia of Dick’s former life. The life before.

Mind you, it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 3 days after his beat down at the hands of the Haven Sharks, Dick had thought he was ready to go out as Nightwing again. But the second that the cold lining of his leather suit had made contact with the skin on his bare legs, Dick had instantly run to the bath room and had vomited so hard until there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach. He’d gone on to have the worst mental breakdown since Barbara had finally gotten him to cry about Jason’s death.

The sensation of leather clothing on his toned body had always exhilarated Dick. As a civilian, it had made him feel cool, edgy, and masculine – even sexy. People had been calling Dick a ‘pretty boy’ forever, which he’d mostly shrugged off without much of a thought. But after he’d discovered Urban Knights and how their leather gear looked on him, he started to accept and believe those comments. As Nightwing, his leather suit had made feel authoritative, powerful and in control. The Boy Wonder had grown up to become a Man Wonder who nobody wanted to mess around with – unless it was in the bed room.

But since that night with the Sharks, the only sensation that leather gave Dick was disgust. Not disgust at the leather, but disgust at himself. Try as hard as he might to forget it, every touch of leather brought back all the memories of his beat down and the sensual minutiae of his humiliation, all of which were tied to leather one way or another.

The drop of blood on his leather glove, after the Sharks had first beaten Dick to the ground and he’d touched his bloody lips…

The unzipping of his tight leather jacket, exposing Dick’s ripped yet powerless torso to the Sharks’ groping (and soon-to-be punching) hands…

The endless series of devastating punches to his gut, annihilating Dick’s chiselled, leather-framed wall of abdominal muscles…

But worst of all, the leader of the group placing his hand around Dick’s leather boner and jerking him to the brink of orgasm…

In his weakened state, the Sharks had already gotten him erect by simply teasing his nipples, so chances are they would have gotten Dick off even without the hand job. But the hand job had sealed the deal. The leather had been skin-tight, thin, and – to add insult to injury – lubricated by his very own precum that Dick had inevitably started leaking, soiling the most precious piece of clothing in his wardrobe with stains of his sexual debasing forevermore. All of it had made it feel as if the leather of his trousers had fused with the skin on his body, so that the Shark was directly jacking off his unclothed, unprotected cock. Without any mercy, they had edged him right to the precipice of unwanted arousal – only to then bust his rock-hard manhood to pieces and possibly annihilating Dick’s chances of ever continuing the Grayson family line.

Dick had thought back to that night often and long since then, and every time he’d ended up with the same question: how had the Sharks been able to overcome his sexual will power that easily? Over the years, Dick had prided himself in acquiring a mental strength that was second to none, even sexually. Long gone where the days when Jason had almost made Dick cum in his leather gear via a reach-around hand job on his Triumph. The Sharks, however, had obliterated all that will power with just a few tweaks of his nipples and jerks of his leather-clad shaft. But how could he have been so helplessly susceptible to their manipulations? Had his body simply been too weak to offer any resistance after the devastating beating he had taken? Or could it perhaps be that a twisted, perverted and most definitely unheroic part of him had actually enjoyed being dominated by the Sharks? Giving over control of his bodily cravings to somebody else? Somebody superior?

The more time had passed since that night, the louder that voice had become in his mind and the more it had started to overwhelm him with shame. How could he ever call himself a superhero again when deep down a part of him might be yearning to be at the sexual mercy of his arch nemesis? The only way to silence that thought was to keep his hands off his leather clothes and lock the sensual memory of that night away as best as possible. Otherwise, the truth might be too painful to face: that the Sharks had managed to turn the one that thing that had always empowered Dick more than anything else, namely his leather clothing, into a weapon to sexually destroy him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t ended up actually cumming in his pants. Dick knew perfectly well that the Sharks only had needed to give his cock one more gentle stroke, and Dick would have squirted so much milky cream into his leather pants that his legs would have been swimming in jizz. Within minutes, the Sharks had exposed just how weak Dick genuinely was. Too weak to defeat the Sharks in a fight, and then too weak to resist the sexual effect of their groping hands on his beaten body. Even though Dick had cleaned his Urban Knights leathers multiple times since then, in Dick’s mind the imaginary stains of that weakness still clung to his beloved pants as clear as day.

"Look, he’s leaking!" Three words that would haunt Dick for the rest of his life, just like the visual of creamy drops of precum oozing from the tip of his tenting leather bulge.

In hindsight, Dick was also certain that even as Nightwing he would have lost against the Sharks. For one, he had gone up against individual members of this gang multiple times over the years, and not once had he been victorious. The Sharks could boast to be one of the very few organizations to have beaten the mighty Nightwing with all his fancy gadgetry to a standstill, forcing the wannabe hero to retreat in shame more than once. Back then, Nightwing had tried to deny the cracks of self-doubt that had crept into his mental façade after these fights, but now that façade had broken apart for good. To make things worse, the tight leather of the Nightwing suit almost felt identical to his Urban Knights gear, so in Dick’s distorted mind, the Sharks may just as well have been jerking him off in his famous hero suit, rather than his civilian regalia. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that the feeling of tight leather on his body no longer made him feel like a superhero, but like a failed, perverted pretender. The Sharks had been right. He was no man, but a mere pretty boy who had not earned the right to wear leather. A boy who’d thought he could become a man by putting on biker gear. A boy who’d assumed he had the muscles to be a superhero but hadn’t even been able to defend himself against a few rogue thugs. Dick knew he could never wear leather pants again, lest it turned him on and reminded him of how easily his body had surrendered to the bikers’ manipulations of him. The Sharks had torn his self-confidence, both as Dick Grayson and as Nightwing, to shreds, and Dick had no idea how to put it back together. If that was even possible. To Dick, it seemed like the wings of the night had been clipped for good.

But his self-confidence wasn’t the only thing that lay in ruins, Dick had to acknowledge as he hugged himself in an unusually oversized Gotham University hoodie and sweat pants, letting the tears that had been amassing in his eyes silently roll down his cheeks. His relationship to Jason was a wreck, as well. Just when Dick had thought that the most wonderful thing in the world had happened to him – the return of the brother he had thought dead – that thing had been taken away from him again and Jason had disappeared into thin air. Or rather, the Jason that barely saved Dick from the Shark’s rapist hands no longer appeared to be the Jason that Dick had enclosed in his heart years ago as his Little Wing. After the night of the reveal, Dick had attempted every thing he could to locate his little brother again, even having Oracle put a tag on Red Hood, but nothing. Red Hood was nowhere to be found. If Jason had learned stealth from Batman once, then the pupil had truly outgrown the master.

Dick had not only failed as a vigilante. He had failed as a brother, too.

Amidst his search for Jason, Dick’s PTSD from the Shark assault had grown only worse by the day. Night after night, sleep evaded him, not that the nightmares he’d have as an alternative would be much better, and every time Dick opened his closet and inhaled the leather smell of his Nightwing suit it took all his remaining energy not to collapse into shaking heap of tears. A few days later, Dick therefore decided to take an extensive break from work and go on a longer road trip which he’d hope would fulfil two purposes: giving Dick space and time to process the events of that fateful night with the Sharks, and trying to find out what happened to Jason and whether there was any way that his old self may still be within his new grown body.

Dick left only a short note about his departure at the Manor, telling them that he was going on a trip and needed to be left alone for a while. He couldn’t handle telling them in person. The concerned faces of his family would make him crumble immediately. The weeks on the road at least gave Dick the strength to face them upon his return and announce that he would be taking a break from Nightwing. As expected, Bruce, Tim, and Alfred flooded him with concerned questions and sought explanations, but all that Dick told them was that he was working on getting back on patrol. Which was a bold-faced lie, of course. He'd never put on his Nightwing suit again, or any other hero suit for that matter. Even after weeks on the road, the idea of stepping back into the leathers of the Nightwing suit again made Dick want to puke. Admittedly, he felt like a traitor for leaving the city that he’d looked after for so long to its own devices, especially with the Sharks on the rise. Batman and Robin were barely able to handle Gotham as it as was, so there was no way they could take care of Blüdhaven too. But with a crime fighter as pathetic as Nightwing, Dick doubted that his absence would make a huge difference. “What about Blüdhaven”, Bruce had asked him when he’d announced his break from Nightwing. Unable to look into his father’s eyes, Dick had answered, “Haven managed just fine without Nightwing for years. I’m sure it can do so again.”

More urgent than the well-being of Blüdhaven, at least in Dick’s fraternal concern, was the state of his brother. How had he come back from the dead? And more importantly, how could Dick rebuild the loving relationship that he’d feared he had lost forever?

During his road trip, Dick had had lots of time to conduct research on what could have possibly happened to Jason. After hitting many dead ends initially, he eventually found something that sounded promising in an old text book at the University of Chicago’s library: The Lazarus Pit. A mythical pool filled with an acid green liquid that was supposed to have magical capabilities. If you submerged yourself in the liquid, rumours had it that the liquid would heal all your wounds and make you immortal. It was also alleged that the Pit could resurrect dead bodies. All these miracles came at a terrible price, however. A bath in the Lazarus Pit ran the risk of making you go insane and possibly lose all traits of your previous personality.

Dick’s breath hitched when he read the passage. It all made sense. If Jason had come back via the Lazarus Pit, that would explain his angry outburst, his comments about his old self being gone and the way that the deep natural green of Jason’s eyes would suddenly take on an acid tone more reminiscent of Joker’s hair than the forest on the grounds of Wayne Manor.

Still, many questions were left unanswered. Dick very much doubted that the Pit would grant you immortality. Thinking back to the night with the Sharks and how they had beaten Jason, his brother had died almost again, right then and there. Hell, he would have died for sure if Jason had not resorted to gunfire, the one kind of weapon that Batman always taught his Robins was out of line. Also, where was this mythical Pit supposed to be, and who had gotten Jason’s body – which according to all accounts had in fact been buried on the private Manor cemetery – there? The text book, which dated all the way from 1893, claimed no Pit had ever been found and that its existence therefore had never been verified. But given everything that Dick had seen as a crime-fighter, this lack of evidence did not mean one damn thing.

What worried him far more was that the source did not state whether the alleged mental effects of the Pit could be reversed. Was the physical transformation that one experienced in the Pit inseparably tied to its mental effect? Could Jason ever overcome his new-found anger and fury without undoing the new life that the Pit had seemingly bestowed upon him? When Jason had punched Dick to the ground after he had called him “Little Wing”, it had not seemed likely. But then again, if all of the old Jason was gone, why would he have put his life on the line to rescue Dick from the Sharks? He would have simply left Dick to suffer and die. But he didn't. It was this titbit, more than anything, that convinced Dick that not all hope was lost yet. Getting Jason back would be a very delicate process, judging by his apparent resentment at the world. Dick was glad that he had kept Jason's return secret from Batman and Robin; the last thing he needed to get his brother back was to have that brother confronted in civilio by the two people he hated more than anyone in the world right now.

If that happened, Dick likely would never get a chance to reconnect with his brother again – a scenario that would probably crush what little remains of Dick’s soul were left in his once so powerful body. For such a short life, Dick had already suffered more losses than any single person could handle. His parents. Wally. Finally, Jason. Over the years, he had grown so accustomed to losing his loved ones that the possibility of one of them returning to him was almost too much to cope with. He did not, could not want to believe it to be true, lest Dick’s hope once more were disappointed and he was faced with the loss of a loved one yet again. Still, Jason had been there. Undeniably alive. In flesh and blood. If there was any chance for Dick to get his brother back, he had to take it.

For that reason, Dick left no stone unturned to find Jason when he finally returned to Blüdhaven after his road trip, especially when his colleagues at the Police Department told him stories about Red Hood taking over vigilante duties in Nightwing’s city. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Red Hood had made it unmistakably clear that one night that he wanted nothing to do whatsoever with the Bat Family. Why then would he start patrolling in Blüdhaven during Nightwing’s absence, in the very city that had almost gotten him killed himself not too long ago? At first, Dick had dismissed it as fake news, but after a while the number of people talking about Red Hood in Blüdhaven grew to high to simply shrug off the rumours as nonsense.

After a month of searching for his lost brother, Dick had almost given up hope that his desperate wish would ever be granted. Until one night when he was patrolling the infamous streets of Blüdhaven’s East End and an explosive bang nearby caught his attention, revealing a heavily injured Red Hood who apparently had been caught in another almost deadly trap by the Haven Sharks. In the moment, Dick hadn’t been able to decide what had hurt him the most about that night: Jason’s visibly injured state after barely surviving the explosion. The image of Jason’s bike being reduced to a burning wreck, when Dick knew perfectly well how much Jason had fallen in love with motorbikes before his death. Or the painfully truthful accusations that Dick was letting his trauma get the better of him and was neglecting the fate of the city that he loved so much.

All of these accusations had been valid. And yet, in retrospect, Dick knew that what struck him the most was Jason saying that he no longer had a family, right before vanishing into the night. These words hurt more than any wound that Jason could have inflicted on him physically. Dick wanted nothing more than to simply embrace Jason in the fiercest hug possible and show him – let him feel – that he still had a family who loved him. A father. A grandfather. A big brother.

A big brother who finally had to admit that his feelings for his little brother were more than just fraternal. The passion in Jason’s eyes when he had shouted about fighting with his life to uphold Nightwing’s legacy had clarified something inside of Dick. Something that had been buried in his mind for a long time but that Dick had been too afraid to dig up. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge those feelings while he had still been together with Wally, but now there was no denying anymore. He loved Jason. Not just as a brother, but as someone that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with together. Someone he wanted to have children with. Someone who was beautiful and strong on the inside and the outside. Someone like Jason Todd.

But how could you spend the rest of your life with someone who would barely spend a minute talking to you? Someone who saves your life one day, and then runs away from you the next, never wanting to see you again? Dick had even left a brand new set of Urban Knights leathers and a Harley Davidson together with a personal note as a birthday day gift at Jason's safe house, the location of which he had eventually been able to determine via a tracker, in the hopes that Jason would accept this offering as a gesture of peace and reconciliation. But even after two weeks since then, there had still been no response from him. In a way, then, Jason’s return was more cruel to Dick than his death. Knowing that Jason was gone had given Dick a sense of pragmatic finality. An indisputable fact that could not be changed. Yet the knowledge that Jason was out there and still unreachable to him felt so much worse. Knowing back then that Jason could never return to him broke his heart in two. Knowing now that Jason could return to him but decides not to broke Dick’s heart into a billion irreparable little pieces. This time, losing Jason was not a cruel twist of fate; this time it was all Dick's fault.

As all those thoughts flooded his mind, Dick was overwhelmed by a sob and could no longer bare to look at the ocean of city lights in front of him with his teary eyes. Instead, he let his head fall to his chin and the tears cascaded down his cheeks, only taking in his slightly trembling hands in his lap.

Perhaps it was due to his emotional state that stealth master Dick Grayson failed to notice that he no longer was alone on the roof.

“You know, I hate it when people steal my look”, a deep voice rumbled. A tone that Dick could have picked out a million voices. Bordering on speed force, he jumped up and turned around, not caring about how close to the edge he was, and found what he had no longer thought possible: Jason, standing a few feet away from him, dressed in his new Urban Knights leathers. The gear clung to his body perfectly, the black material outlining all muscular lines of his toned limbs and the zipped-up jacket accentuating just how broad his shoulders had grown. He looked incredible. The epitome of an edgy leather biker. If Dick’s feelings were not running as high as they were right now, he might notice the barely visible swelling in the crotch of dark sweat pants at the alluring sight. Jason’s face, all the while, was decidedly neutral, as if intent on not giving away any emotion. His single strand of white hair was blowing gingerly in the gentle breeze, giving his rugged bad boy appearance a softer touch.

After overcoming the shock of Jason’s presence, Dick tried to speak, “Jason! I don’t know what---”, but his voice broke off.

“The whole baggy and moody look was always my thing, remember?”, Jason continued, gesturing with the right of his gloved hands at Dick’s hoodie and sweat pants. “Yours was always tight and figure-hugging.”

With a sad irony, Dick finally got his brother’s point. Only a few years ago, Jason indeed would have been the Wayne kid with the oversized clothes, while Dick would have paraded his body around in the slimmest fits he could find. But those days were gone now. His body was no longer something to show off, as the Sharks had taught Dick, but something to be ashamed of.

“Things change, I guess”, he smiled joylessly. “But it seems you’ve taken to the tight and figure-hugging look pretty well yourself”, Dick attempted a distraction.

“Yeah, well …,” now it was Jason’s voice which drifted away. After a few seconds of gazing down at his leather-clad figure, he looked back at Dick and said, “Thanks for the presents by the way.” He pulled a small object out of the left pocket of his jacket and waved it in Dick’s direction. It was the key to the Harley Davidson.

“Of course!”, Dick said, this time with genuine joy in his still teary eyes at the fact that his brother seemed to have accepted Dick’s gesture. Even if they never spoke again after tonight, the assurance that Jason was at least donning the new leather gear while riding his very own Harley Davidson that Dick had gifted him gave him some inner peace. With relief in his voice, Dick went on, “Seeing you again just brought back lots of memories. I couldn’t stand seeing your bike in flames and I figured that your old gear would no longer fit you, too, so...”

“You were right”, Jason picked up Dick’s train of thought, putting his key back into the pocket. “These fit much better and feel pretty nice on the Harley. Though I daresay I’ll never look as good in them as you do in yours.”

At those words Dick could not help but gulp and look away.

“Maybe, but I think my leather days are over, Jay”, he answered after a pause, his voice barely more than a whisper. Even just uttering the word ‘leather’ with his mouth, the same mouth that had groaned with unwanted lust when the Sharks had rubbed him off, just felt shameful.

“Dick Grayson’s or Nightwing’s?”, came Jason’s carefully inquisitive response. When Dick could bring himself to face Jason’s stare again, he was met with a strangely knowing look.

“Both”, he answered truthfully.

Jason sighed, but not angrily as Dick had expected him to, but more tiredly, as if he had anticipated that very answer from his older brother. With deliberate patience, Jason walked up to Dick and grabbed his shoulders with his leather-gloved hands. Dick could not deny that the grip of Jason’s strong hands on his body made him feel good and safe.

“Dick, I know you’ve gone through a lot. Hell, we both have. But I don’t think that’s right. Your leather days are not over. Neither as Dick Grayson nor as Nightwing. Sure, the Sharks got the better of you this one time and it got pretty bad, but you will fight back. We will fight back. Together. And I’m not just saying that for the opportunistic reason that you’re far too handsome to never wear leather again. It’s part of who you are. The confidence, the swagger, the ‘I know I can do this’ attitude. It’s what made me look up to you as your little brother. It’s …”, now Jason had to briefly look away to gather himself, but then faced Dick’s blue eyes again. “It’s what made me fall in love with you, Dick.”

Dick could not believe what he was hearing. Surely Jason meant love in a platonic, fraternal way? Because everything else was impossible. Why would someone as stunning as Jason be attracted to someone broken like Dick? Out of all the ways that he had imagined his potential reunion with his brother to go, a confession of romantic love had definitely not been one of them. Stunned into speechlessness, an overwhelmed “Jason?” was all that Dick could muster.

“You heard me correctly, Dick. I’m in love with you”, Jason went on, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Probably have been for much longer than I’ve realized. You’re the kindest, most caring, and most empathetic person that I know, Dick, and I only wish that you would treat yourself with the same affection with which you treat others. I love you, Dick. I don’t know if you feel the same way about me and how this might effect our relationship as brothers, but I’ve denied my emotions for way too long, and it ends today. You deserve to be happy and smile, Dick. You deserve to ride your Triumph in your Urban Knights leathers, and you deserve to be the most confident crime-fighter the world has ever seen, and if there’s anything I can do to help you get back to that place again, I will.” Another pause, then he continued, “Even if that means returning to the Manor.”

No. That could not be possible.

Did Dick just hear that last sentence correctly? Jason was willing to return to the Manor for him? Dick searched Jason’s green eyes for any flicker of acid, any hint of malintent to make Dick’s already miserable life even worse. But all that Dick found was the deep, forest-y green he had so grown to love over the years.

Jason was saying the truth.

“You … really would come back?”, Dick asked quietly, almost as if afraid that a louder volume would prompt a negative answer from his brother. A wave of new tears was rising in his blue eyes.

“Yes”, Jason responded in an equally quiet tone which, however, left no room for doubt.

All out of words, Dick decided to let his actions do the talking. He stepped closer to Jason, gently cupped the back of his head with his hands and softly pressed their lips together, closing his teary eyes before their mouths even touched. It was not a fiery and passionate kiss. Instead, it was delicate and tender, a hopeful attempt of Dick to physically express to Jason everything that he could not convey verbally. Comfort. Gratitude. But most of all, love.

After a few seconds that felt like years, the kiss ended and both men opened their eyes to look at each other in affectionate wonder. Jason was the first to speak.

“Wow, so I guess I’m not the only ex Robin with feelings for his brother, huh?”

This finally made Dick laugh. “Haha, no, you’re definitely not.”

“Since when have you known?”, Jason asked tentatively, now in slight disbelief himself.

“Difficult to say, honestly. I think I understood only very recently what these feelings actually meant, but the feelings themselves definitely started way sooner than that.” A quick pause, then he continued with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Truthfully, the feelings started on that very first trip with you to Urban Knights. Seeing you in that leather gear head to toe for the first time just did things to me.”

“Oh really?”, Jason raised his left eyebrow, a subtle smirk emerging on his face. “And does it still do things to you all those years later?”

“Oh yeah, more than ever before”, Dick retorted, with a telling grin on his face himself. As if to illustrate his point, Dick smoothly pushed his increasingly hardening bulge against the crotch of Jason’s leather pants, within which he could feel his brother’s manhood thickening as well.

“In that case I feel like I’ve earned the right to see Urban Knights’ famous supermodel Dick Grayson in leather again, too, don’t you think?”, Jason grinned.

Instantly, the flirtation on Dick’s face gave way to hesitation and concern. “Jason, I meant what I said. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wear leather again. Whether it’s Urban Knights or the Nightwing suit. Or anything else that accentuates my body like that, for that matter. That night with the Sharks… it broke something in me, and I don’t know if that something will ever properly heal, let along how long that will take.”

This time, Jason cupped the back of Dick’s head and said, “Even if will take the rest of both our lives, I will be right beside you. I know you have the strength to do it, but I will not pressure you into anything that you don't want. Just promise me you’ll try, okay? 'Cause I believe in you, Dick. We'll take it step by step. I’ll help you process the Sharks, and you’ll help me process the Pit. We’ll both help each other. Deal?”

So it was the Pit after all!, Dick thought. They would definitely need to have a long conversation about that later. For now, though, a soft smile blossomed on Dick’s face again, as he answered “Deal”, before Jason pressed his mouth on Dick's again. This second kiss was more action-heavy than the first and left the two former Boy Wonders slightly out of breath when they pulled apart. When he‘d composed himself, Dick said, “But wait a moment: how are we gonna deal with Bruce, Alfred and Tim? We can’t keep this a secret forever. Babs will find out before long. Besides, you can’t just walk up into the Cave and be like, 'oh hey guys, guess what, I’m alive again, and I’m also in a relationship with my older brother'.”

Jason though for a moment, before answering pensively, “Well, I’m no attorney, but I’d say that since I technically died, I’m no longer Bruce’s legal son. Or your brother, for that matter. Which means that we can do whatever we want with one another.”

Dick was still visibly unconvinced.

“Even if that were true, which I somehow doubt, we still have to find a way to tell our family. I mean”, Dick hesitated, as if unsure whether he should say what he clearly wanted to say next. “You, ehm, kind of did try to kill them more than once, especially Robin. Robin was always Tim’s idol. I doubt he will take lightly to realizing that his former idol tried to murder him.” Dick searched Jason’s expression, hoping he had not gone too far with his comment and had accidentally reignited the Pit fury.

A deep shadow of guilt crossed Jason’s face, but otherwise he remained calm.

“I know that. And I’m under no illusion that I can become a brother to Tim and rebuild my bridges to Bruce just like that. It will take time and patience, and probably lots of shouting matches on both sides, knowing this family. But our last encounter and the note that you left me somehow made me realize that maybe I still do have a family after all and that …”, Jason’s voice broke, clearly wrought with emotion, but then he continued, “that if you can forgive me, maybe they can too.”

“Oh Jason”, Dick cried and engulfed his brother boyfriend in his strongest, most affirmative hug he could offer. Jason wasted no time in reciprocating the hug. “Of course they will”, Dick sobbed into the strong shoulders of Jason’s leather jacket. “Do you think Alfred Pennyworth is one to hold grudges for long?”

With a teary tremble in his voice, Jason joked, “He might be if you mess up his kitchen.” That made both young men laugh out loud. Still they remained as they were, silently wrapped in each other’s arms, until Dick felt a few rain drops on his dark messy hair. Looking up towards the sky, he saw that clouds had gathered across Blüdhaven's night sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain soon”, he suggested, pulling away from Jason. “We should probably go inside. Don’t want to spoil your perfect new gear.”

“Well, it’s your house, so lead the way, Big Bird. Luckily, I can think of a few ways to spend the night that don’t require any gear whatsoever”, Jason smirked.

“Oh do you, now, Little Wing? Well, then I guess you’ll have to show me, won’t you?”, Dick smirked back and laughed. It felt surprisingly not awkward to engage Jason in the kind of flirty repartee that Dick had only ever performed with Wally or Caleb. It was as if Jason’s presence gave him a safe space to momentarily forget about everything that had been traumatizing him for the past few months and instead simply be. It was in that moment that Dick knew Jason was right. Dick was strong enough to overcome his demons. It would not happen overnight. In fact, it would probably take a long time. But with Jason by his side, Dick would eventually not just get back to his old self, but to a completely new and better self. With Red Hood by his side, Nightwing would learn to fly again, higher and stronger than ever before.

He hoped that wherever he was, Wally was watching and felt happy for him.

With that thought, Dick took Jason’s left hand in his right and looked up into his calming green eyes. “I love you, Jay.” Squeezing Dick’s hand, Jason smiled back into his and responded, “I love you too, Dick.”

Chapter Text

Tim Drake sighed as he leaned back and let the early autumn sun shine down on his face. He was sitting on a bench outside the main entrance to the Gotham Academy campus, waiting for Alfred to pick him up. Most of his fellow pupils had already left, meaning that Tim was once again by himself, as he was used to. Normally, the butler would already be waiting for him by the roadside, ready to take hold of his backpack and usher him into his modernized Beetle. When Bruce had taken him in at age 13, he had insisted that he would always be driven to and from school by somebody in the family, no exceptions. Mostly, he was picked up by Alfred, or occasionally by Dick, which was extra exciting because it always involved a detour via Tim’s favourite ice cream parlour in Gotham. Those rare benefits notwithstanding, Tim had initially protested against what he had thought was a silly rule: he had taken the school bus his whole life and had comfortably walked the remaining distance between the bus stop and his parents’ house, which wasn’t very far from Wayne Manor anyway, so why change it now? Besides he didn’t want to come across any more like a spoiled rich kid than he already did, and being picked up by bis personal butler certainly did not help him in that cause. But Bruce’s verdict had been final. He had argued that he’d already witnessed two sons getting kidnapped on their way from school and did not want to add a third one to that list.

The memory of Bruce randomly calling Tim his son still brought a blush and a soft smile to Tim’s face. Even though he had been living with Bruce and Alfred for three years now, the natural affection that they showed him at every possibility never failed to catch him off guard and always left a lump in his throat. Tim had grown up in a household where most of his human contact had been with his Nanny. A nice woman in her 40s named Lindsey who tried her best, but could never quite fill the gap left by paternal love. Instead taking of care of their highly book-smart but incredibly introverted son, Jack and Janet Drake had been busy jet-setting across the globe and pursuing various archaeological projects.

Until one day they did not return.

A plane crash in the Mediterranean sea.

The loss of his parents probably should have affected Tim more than it had, but mostly, he had just felt empty. Because how could you mourn someone if you didn’t even really know them? The question of Tim’s guardianship had been a different matter. Who would take care of Tim, now that his parents were gone and any other distant relatives (that not even his parents had spoken to) lived on the far side of the country? Bruce Wayne had been one of the closest friends of the family, but after the tragedy of Jason Todd, he had naturally been hesitant to adopt another young boy, despite how much he clearly cared for him. That issue, however, had been resolved one night when Tim had arrived on the door steps of Wayne Manor to announce pertly that he had known Batman’s and Nightwing’s secret identities since before high school and even had photographs to prove him claims. After that, Tim’s adoption had only been a formality, and his training as Robin had started soon afterwards, too.

Since then, Tim had grown to love Bruce as his father, Alfred as his grandfather, and even – despite some initial distance – Dick as his big brother. Even though he would never admit it out loud, Tim was looking forward every school day to returning to the Manor, mainly because the Manor had become a place of love, warmth and safety that his parents’ house had never been. That’s he was partly surprised, if not even disappointed, to find neither Alfred nor Dick waiting for him at the school entrance. Alfred was usually the embodiment of punctuality and reliability, so he hoped that nothing serious had come up. Over the years, Tim had had many counselling sessions to work on his abandonment issues and even though he had come a long way, moments like this reminded him that his fear of being left alone had never quite disappeared completely.

Looking around, he saw that the campus was mostly empty already. Tim didn’t have many friends at school any way. He was neither perpetually cheerful like Dick, nor defiantly boisterous like Jason, but much quieter and more reserved. Although he had been told from multiple sources what a ‘hottie’ he was, with his dark hair, pale but chiselled complexion, and a slim but athletic body from hours of crime-fighting, the mere thought of socialising and interacting with his peers gave him anxiety. So where the hell was Alfred and why couldn’t someone just take him away from this place already?!

To kill some time and keep his nerves at bay, therefore, Tim pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. Most of his feed consisted of IT-related content, the biggest passion of the 16-year-old, but every now and then he came across a post from someone he knew personally. After one of the many Wayne Enterprises ads, he stopped at a post from Dick. It was a selfie, apparently from last night, and it showed Dick himself with Jason holding up their Chartreux cat Oscar. Dick and Jason looked both radiantly happy, but there was no doubt that Oscar was the star of the photo, which was quite the feat considering that he was being cuddled by two of the most objectively handsome men Tim had ever seen. Still, Oscar’s natural smizing skills with his amber-coloured eyes would put any ANTM contestant to shame and the French breed clearly knew it. The photo was cheesy as hell, especially with the caption “Home is where your cat is<3”, yet still Tim couldn’t help but smile and tapped the heart underneath.

The fact that he could be so openly happy for Dick and Jason was a testament to how far Tim had come in his relationship towards his two predecessors as Robin. The revelation about a year ago that Jason was alive (and dating Dick) had probably been the most intensely emotional night that Tim had witnessed in the Manor since moving in. Everyone had been in tears, even – to Tim’s shock – Bruce.

Everyone except Tim himself.

Tim could still remember how rigid his body had gotten when Jason had revealed himself to be the Red Hood. The vigilante had almost killed Tim as Robin on more than one occasion. How was he supposed to sleep under the same roof with somebody who’d wanted him dead mere weeks ago? Tim had been in utter disbelief. This was the guy whom he had looked up to as Robin for years. And now here he was, confessing to have tried to murder him multiple time and having the audacity to beg his forgiveness. If it hadn’t been for Dick’s hand on his shoulders trying to reassure him that Jason had changed and could be trusted, Tim would have run straight to his room and locked himself inside until Jason was far away again on the other side of town, or preferably of the planet.

It been a rocky road since then. Tim had lost count of how often he had left the dinner table when Dick and Jason had been visiting. He just hadn’t been able to bear how suddenly every one welcomed back Jason with open arms and had apparently forgotten that this same Jason would have put Tim in the ground several times over if it hadn’t been for Batman’s interventions. Slowly but surely, piece by piece, however, things began to improve, mainly thanks to the infinite patience and wisdom of one Alfred Pennyworth.

After one particularly nasty outburst that had ended in Tim screaming at his assembled family and running to his room, Alfred had knocked on his door a while later, equipped with a hot cup of Tim’s favourite tea. The strategy had worked, and Tim had finally been able to open up about everything that was upsetting him. At the end of the conversation, Alfred had said, “Master Tim, of course you did not choose to be attacked and almost killed as Robin by Master Jason, so it’s only natural you would have objections against his presence in this house. But you should also remember that Master Jason did not choose to be killed by the Joker and then subsequently be revived in the Lazarus Pit either. From what we know, the resurrection severely affected his psyche, and it takes a lot of time and energy to reverse that. Master Jason did not become the murderous vigilante that tried to kill you by his own free choice. I, for that matter, believe him when he says that he wants to leave that part of him behind and return to his old safe. But I cannot force you to believe him, too. You can only make that decision yourself, but before you do, try to imagine yourself in Master Jason's situation and think what you'd want from your family in his place.”

Those words had left Tim thinking, and eventually lead to him having a long and civilized conversation with Jason over tea one rainy Friday night, the starting point of their relationship as brothers. Every day since then, they’ve been learning to trust each other a little bit more. And as it turns out, saving each other’s lives after you have both been lured into a death trap by Two-Face did wonders to your fraternal bond. So while Tim’s relationship to Jason was definitely different from his relationship to Dick, Tim had grown to appreciate it for what it was and (loath as he was to admit it) wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.

Particularly when it was as clear as day how happy Dick and Jason made each other, as visible in this photo. The two had been living together for almost a year now. If it hadn’t been for Jason, Dick might never have found the confidence to fight crime as Nightwing again, after the shocking beat down at the hands of the Haven Sharks that Dick eventually confessed to the rest of his family. Dick and Jason gave each other strength, and that's all that mattered. Although Tim always chuckled without fail when he tapped one of Dick’s photos with Jason in it and saw that his boyfriend was tagged as ‘James Peterson’. It was the legal name that Jason had taken on after his return, to ensure that he was no longer legally related to Bruce and could therefore get married to Dick when the time came. For someone as schooled in IT and – among other things – facial recognition technology as him, Tim found it ludicrous that nobody had connected the dots yet between James Peterson and Jason (Peter) Todd.  But then again, Tim was also living in a world where Superman only needed a pair of nerdy glasses to keep his secret identity as Clark Kent perfectly safe, so there was probably no end to people’s blindness.

Tim resumed scrolling down further along his feed, until one particular post made him stop dead in his tracks and gulp.

It was from Conner Kent. Aka. Kon-El. Aka Superboy.

His best friend.

His occasional team mate.

His secret crush.

Tim had never told anyone about his feelings for Conner, but they had pretty much started from the very first second Tim had laid eyes on the teenage version of Superman. He had the same dark hair and boyish handsomeness as the Kryptonian from whose DNA he had been cloned. To make things worse, Conner’s hero outfit usually consisted of a pair of slim blue jeans and a black Super t-shirt so tight that you could practically count each of his abdominal muscles individually. How the usually rather shy Tim had even managed to talk to the stud, let alone become his best friend without accidentally blurting out his crush on day 1, was a miracle that confounded Tim to this very day.

This photo, however, reached a new level for Tim’s Kryptonian crush. It showed Conner on what Tim presumed to be the Kent farm in Smallville, with a cornfield in the background. The sun was just setting, tinting everything in a slightly golden shade of red. Conner gazed to the side rather than towards the camera – it looked like one of those perfect shots where the subjects was not aware he was being photographed, which made the whole picture so much more authentic, so much more 'in the moment'.

But best worst of all was Conner’s outfit. He wore black cowboy boots, blue skinny jeans and a slim-fitted white t-shirt that looked painted onto his ripped body. But above that t-shirt? A brown leather jacket. A brown leather jacket that shone almost golden in the setting sun and made the muscular teen whose body it so tightly encased glow like an adolescent god straight from heaven. Conner looked simply divine.

Tim was so enraptured by the image than it took him a few seconds to notice the caption underneath. “Living that #countryboi life”. The 16-year-old had to restrain himself from commenting the post with a selection of obscene emojis that he quickly typed up in the comment box ; those emojis would throw any secrecy about his crush for Conner right out the window, and yet they were the only way to properly articulate Tim's reaction to the post. As he kept staring at the photo, Tim also realized just how thin and light the cotton of his school uniform trousers was and that this was definitely not the right outfit or moment to be staring at the ultimate thirst trap of his dreams in public. Tim had a flawless track record at school. He did not want public indecency to be the thing that ruined his perfect trajectory.

He was just about to close Instagram and pull up Alfred’s contact when a loud roar caught his attention. Looking up from his phone to find the source of that noise, Tim had to gulp again. It came from a motorbike – a Harley Davidson if Tim remembered the logo correctly from Bruce’s garage – that had just come to a halt at the roadside in front of Tim. The man sitting on top of the machine was a vision in head-to-toe black leather: Black leather boots, black leather pants, black leather jacket, black leather gloves, and a sleek black helmet. Damn! From the way that the tight leather fit the driver, the man had an incredible body: thick thighs, broad shoulders and biceps, and a perfectly toned torso. Whoever who would be picked up by this guy would be very lucky indeed, Tim sighed internally, trying to ignore the annoyingly persistent itch between his legs.

Switching off the engine, the driver leaned back slightly in his saddle, looked in Tim’s direction and raised his hands towards his head to take off his helmet. It was in that moment – almost as if in slow-motion – when he saw the familiarly sharp jaw line and the uncanny strand of white hair amidst dark bangs that Tim Drake’s carefully closeted homosexuality fell into the abyss.

The hunky leather biker was his older brother Jason Todd. The lucky person to be picked up by him was Tim himself.

Tim gaped at Jason’s appearance open-mouthed, while his hands, which were still clutching his phone, instantly went towards to his crotch to cover up the thunderstorm of arousal that was gathering inside Tim’s pants. He knew that both Jason and Dick were bikers, and he had seen them wearing leather jackets on multiple occasions. For Jason, it was even part of his vigilante armour. Yet, seeing Jason in his complete biker gear, his athletically defined body totally wrapped in almost skin-tight black leather, was a revelation that Tim hadn’t known he needed or wanted. Jason Todd no longer was just his annoyingly handsome older brother. He suddenly became an absolute HUNK of a man who had absolutely no right to look as sexy and turn Tim on as much as he did.

Tim was busy with simply staring at Jason that he barely noticed the young man actually talking to him. “Hey Tim, sorry to keep you waiting. Al was running late with some short-notice errands for Bruce so he asked me to pick you up instead.”

At that sentence, Jason had the nerve to swing his left leg over the bike and present Tim with a full vision of his leather-clad thighs and cheeks, and yup – that was definitely Tim’s boner poking eagerly against his phone in his lap as if craving to see more.

When Tim was still too dumbfounded to say anything, Jason turned around, tragically thankfully denying Tim the view of his leather-clad behind, and looked at him in confusion. “Tim? Timbers? AYO REPLACEMENT!”

That finally did the trick and Tim was able to pull his leering eyes from Jason’s way too muscular torso to his way too handsome face on top of it, stood up, and stuttered, “Ah, s-sorry, Jason, I was, ehm, d-distracted.” Standing up, he could feel his race growing redder and redder.

“Well we can’t have that if you wanna ride with me. Gotta have your head straight, Timbers”. He took a stand in front of Tim, posing with his hands on his slim waist to make Tim’s aroused dilemma even worse.

“What’s gotten you so flustered anyhow? Something on your phone?”, Jason asked curiously, suddenly reaching for Tim’s phone.

“No! it’s not –“, but before Tim could stop him, Jason snatched his phone right out of his hands, which Tim still could not remove from his crotch lest his growing erection became obvious. A smirk crept onto Jason’s face once he saw the screen of Tim’s phone, and Tim realized with complete terror that he’d actually forgotten to close Instagram. Which meant that Jason was looking at Conner’s post and the thirsting emojis that Tim had lined up in response.

“Oh that’s the Kent kid, right? The one they cloned from Clark’s DNA? Well, I gotta say, he’s definitely his father’s son in all the right ways. Damn. He does fill out that leather jacket nicely, doesn’t he?”, Jason commented appreciatively.

When he didn’t hear an answer from Tim, Jason looked up from the display and found his little brother staring at him speechlessly, his slim face a deep shade of red.

“What? No response?”, Jason raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I figured you’d absolutely agree with me. Because those emojis that you’ve lined up in the comment box certainly say so. Want me to post them?”, he smirked, gesturing with Tim’s phone.

Tim instantly panicked, grabbing with both arms for the phone in Jason’s hand. “What? No! NO! Jason, I swear to god –“

But with a simple tap on the ‘post’ icon, Tim’s fate was sealed. “Oops, too late, sorry”, Jason grinned.

Crying out loud, Tim finally managed to wrench his phone out of his brother’s hands. Immediately he marked the comment that Jason had just posted and deleted it, praying to all the Powers That Be that Conner hadn’t been online to see it. Focussing all his energy on his phone, Tim also didn’t notice how Jason’s clandestine eyes went to the unmistakably bulging crotch of Tim’s trousers. But whatever he thought of that image, Jason, in an uncommon act of politeness, decided not to comment on it. For now.

Instead, he stepped closer to his brother and grabbed his shoulder with his gloved hand, making the 16-year-old gulp once more with unasked-for excitement.

“Relax, Timmy. That comment was online for all of three seconds, I doubt that your Superpal saw it. And even if he did, would it be so bad if he knew you’re into him?”

“YES! He’s my best friend and probably straight”, Tim yelled, before remembering where he was and toning down his voice. Even though the school yard was mostly deserted at this point, there could always be someone lingering behind, and Tim did not want his sexuality to become public knowledge like that. He looked decidedly at the ground and added quietly, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship with my stupid crush. Besides, I haven’t come out to anyone yet.”

“Well, you kinda have now. At least to me, anyway”, Jason responded, with a tone of empathetic understanding that Tim was not used to from his predecessor. “Listen Timbers, if you’re really best friends, you should be able to talk about anything with him, including your crush on him. And even if he’s straight, I can’t imagine him cutting all ties with you ‘cause of that. Just give him time, okay? And don’t worry about coming out. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the list of straight Boy Wonders is pretty much non-existent at this point.”

Although he kept his eyes on the floor, this last comment did make Tim chuckle.

“Thanks, Jay”, he said quietly, and he meant it.

“Anytime, Timmy”, Jason squeezed his shoulders. “And I gotta say: Taste, man, taste. Something about a dark-haired hunk in a leather jacket that’s just irresistible, right?”

“Oh yeah”, Tim moaned before he could stop himself, in a breathy voice slightly too yearning for his own good. Because when he looked up again, he remembered that he was in fact standing in front of a very real dark-haired hunk in a leather jacket (and pants!!!), a hunk who so happened to be his older brother and who was suddenly smiling down on him with a dangerously knowing expression.

Oh no, this was bad, Tim realized, having seen that look on both of his brothers' faces way too often not to know that it meant trouble. Tim would now to have to ride a motorbike with said leather-hunk-brother and a ranging boner in his pants.

“Alright, Timmers, let’s get movin’”, Jason let go of him and turned towards his bike, adding cheekily,  “before that woody of yours grows some roots.”

Unsurprisingly, Tim yelped immediately, the shade of red on his face growing darker with every minute. “What?! Wait! No, you misunderstand! It’s just – “

“Relaaaax, Timmy, I understand perfectly", he placated him, pulling his helmet over his head and opening the underseat storage to reveal a second helmet for Tim. He turned back around to hand the second helmet to his blushing brother and said casually, “You like hot guys in leather, and Conner very much is a hot guy in leather. I’m not judging you.” Tim took the helmet and let out a sigh of relief. Jason apparently thought that his erection was because of Conner. While that had certainly started his boner, by now Jason was as much cause as bystander to Tim’s sexual dilemma, so Tim was immensely glad the older man had not realized this yet. If Jason found out that he turned his littler brother on, Tim would never hear the end of it.

“And trust me”, Jason went on like nothing was wrong, “you do not want to know what I went through at your age, with Dick as my big bro. Talk about hunks in leather, my god.” He was right. Tim REALLY did not want to know. Because if there was one thing he did not need right now to calm down his untimely erection, it was the image of Dick m*therfucking Grayson, the most gorgeous man in the world, in leather.

Trying to exorcise that fantasy from his mind, Tim pulled on the helmet. Next, Jason tapped the side of Tim’s helmet with his right index finger and then asked “Can you hear me through the speakers inside the helmet?”

“Yes”, Tim confirmed, surprised at the clarity of the audio.

“Great, I can hear you too. Have you ever been on a motorbike before?”

“No”, Jason confessed with another gulp.

“No worries. Just stay calm and balanced and adjust your body to mine.” Jason swung his leather-clad legs across the saddle, pouring new oil into the fire below Tim’s belt. If only Jason knew how badly Tim wanted to adjust his body to Jason’s right now…

“Now, sit right behind me and hold on real tight to me okay?”. It seemed like with every sentence Tim was pushed a tiny bit further into the hell hole of teenage hormones. Very hesitantly, he sat down on the saddle of Jason’s Harley, careful to keep enough distance between their bodies so that Jason would not sense his boner.

“Wrap your arms around my torso.” Jason gulped again, but knowing that he had no choice if he wanted to reach the sanctuary of the Manor soon he leaned forward and did as he was told, wrapping his arms around Jason’s leather-clad torso. HOLY FUCK, Tim cursed silently once he had gotten a firm hold of Jason's body. Just how fucking ripped was his brother?! He knew that Jason's body had bulked up in comparison to before his death, but this was insane. His torso felt like a solid brick wall of muscles, and the apparently skin-tight leather of the jacket did nothing to hide that solidity – or to lessen Tim’s involuntary excitement.

“The ride to the Manor is not long or difficult, but I wouldn’t put anything past Bruce if I bring his Babybird home bruised”, he heard Jason joke through the speakers.

Forcing his vocal cords into operation, Tim remarked slyly, “Didn’t stop you from trying to kill me not too long ago”, but in a malice-free tone that signalled he was only joking as well.

“Awright, awright, young man, we got it, watch your manners, okay?”, Jason retorted “We all make mistakes. Besides, dying is overrated, let me tell you.” To avoid any awkwardness at that last sentence, Jason switched on the engines, and the machine sprang to life with a loud roar.

Tim had to bite his tongue not to moan obscenely at the vibration that the saddle seemed to be sending directly into his groin.

“Remember, hold on to me as tightly as you can! You gotta get closer to hold on real’ good”, Jason ordered.

Wanting to scream, Tim scooched in a little closer, until he was so near to Jason that his boner was practically drilling Jason’s back. There was no way Jason would not be feeling this right now.

“Fuck…”, Tim couldn’t stop from cursing out loud, letting his head fall onto Jason’s broad shoulder muscles and inhaling the alluring scent of his leather jacket.

“Something wrong?”, Jason asked, slight concern in his voice.

Tim struggled to stammer a response that wouldn’t give away his real anguish. “No, it’s just that I … have lots of homework to do and we’re already late, so please get me home quickly.”

“As you wish, Timmers.” With that, Jason finally set his bike in motion and drove off.

The sensation of the bike vibrating into his groin while standing still was one thing. The sensation of the bike vibrating into his groin as they were rushing down the streets of Gotham was something entirely different, and as it turned out, Tim was not even remotely prepared for it. Tim had jerked off a few times before in his room at the Manor, and he may or may not have been looking at Conner’s Instagram while he'd done so. However, his crotch had never been on fire as it was right now, with a powerful engine running underneath his legs and Jason’s absolutely ripped, leather-clad torso to hold on to as if Tim’s life depended on it. Try as he might to put his mind anywhere else that wasn’t as arousing as his current situation, Tim grew harder by the second, and the thin cotton of his rather slim school trousers did less than nothing to conceal that fact. Even though he was not a religious person, Tim was praying silently to whatever gods were out there that Jason against all odds wouldn’t notice his boner, or the very least that he wouldn’t comment on it.

Unfortunately, it seemed like those gods had forsaken Tim long ago, because after 10 increasingly excruciating minutes on the road, Tim heard Jason say through the speakers, “Well well, I gotta say: is that a Batarang in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me, Timbers?” Jason's trademark smirk was all but visible in the overtly smug tone of his voice.

“Urgh, Jason, please stop”, Tim groaned, desperate that his bubble had been burst. Of course, Jason went on as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Here I was thinking you were only hot for Conner, but now this? Colour me surprised, Timmy. Will any sexy guy in leather get you off? Because I know a few of those.”

“Fuck, Jay!,” Tim yelled into his mic, feeling like the incessant teasing was only making his bulging problem worse. “Will you just drive and stop talking?!”

“Alright, alright”, Jason finally conceded mercifully.

They drove on in silence, until Tim noticed a few of the surrounding buildings and realized that they had to be only 5 more minutes away from the Manor. Wow, Tim thought, he had to give it to Jason: the bike really was much faster than the bus. Small blessings though, considering the pulsing price that his genital area was paying for the ride.

Tim almost had the feeling that his manhood was softening again, when he felt Jason squirm in his saddle in front of him. At first, the 16-year-old had no idea what his older brother was doing, but after a few more wriggles, the teenager was hit by the terrifying truth: Jason was grinding his ass into Tim’s crotch! His very round, very leather-clad ass. Jason was trying to edge Tim on, to get him fully erect again. And what’s worse: it was working. After less than a minute, Tim’s shaft was rock-hard again and poking right into Jason’s leather-bound crack.

A shudder ran through Tim’s entire body. In his 16 years, he had never been this aroused before, never, not once. When he sensed an alarming flare of excitement at the base of his manhood, he also realized that he was shockingly close to cumming and potentially ruining not just his school uniform, but also Jason’s riding gear. This had to stop. ASAP.

… Why then was a part of him silently screaming for the grinding to continue?!

It took all of Tim’s will power that he had amassed in his training with Bruce to suppress his urge to push his bulge deeper into Jason’s butt, and instead hissed through gritted teeth,  “What the actual fuck are you doing, Jay?!”

Jason kept on grinding beguilingly into Tim’s more than receptive groin and simply answered, “Just making sure that your body gets the attention it deserves and clearly wants. Nothing worse than teenage neglect.”

Tim would have laughed, if that vibration of his chest may not have sent his vibration below the belt over the edge, so he yelled, “By fucking grinding on me?! You want Alfred to find my school uniform all - ”, he was almost too embarrassed to express it out loud , “all sticky and moist with c-c-cum? Because I’m almost there, for fuck’s sake!!”. The increasingly irrepressible pulsing in the teenager’s member confirmed as much.

“Of course not, I just want you to admit the truth”, Jason answered, his tone as infuriatingly nonchalant as before.  “Admit that you are into leather hunks and I’ll stop grinding and leave your boner in peace. Just say the words. ‘Leather hunks like Jason Todd turn me on’. And this will all be over”.

Tim could not believe what Jason was asking of him, not just because of the outrageous proposition in itself, but because it was true. He really was into leather hunks, Tim understood in that moment. It wasn’t just Conner in his sun-framed leather glory that turned him on. Otherwise, why would Jason have had such an effect on him? No, it was the combination of a sexy, muscular guy like Conner or Jason or Dick in form-fitting leather that made the otherwise shy and reserved teenager lose his inhibitions.

Tim had been in enough battles as Robin to know the right moment when to admit defeat and retreat. So in order to still reach the Manor with stainless pants, he slowly grunted, “Leather hunks …like Jason Todd … turn me on.”

“See that wasn’t so bad, was it?”, came the prompt and deliberately cheerful reply from his brother.  “Now relax, we’ll be there in less than 5 minutes.”

True to Jason’s promise, the grinding mercifully stopped before Tim could climax, and the Harley came to a halt outside of Wayne Manor little more than 3 minutes later. The engines hadn't even been switched off when Tim jumped from the seat and pulled off his helmet. Jason dismounted more slowly, taking off his helmet and stowing it together with Tim's away under the seat.

“What the fuck was all of that for, Jason?”, Tim finally demanded in equal measures of anger, confusion, and embarrassment when they were both looking each other in the eyes.

Jason waited a moment, before answering, “To loosen you up, Timmy. You don’t have to be ashamed of your tastes. If you are into leather guys, then so be it.” With a chuckle, he added, “At this point, it’s almost a family tradition.”

Even more confusion spread across Tim’s face at that. “What do you mean?”

“Dick and I are into leather as well.” A small epiphany began to dissolve Tim’s frown. “In fact, Dick did something similar to what I just did when I was your age, and while it was hella scary at first, it showed me that’s it’s okay to like what I like and not beat myself up about it. You like looking at sexy guys in leather? Then fucking go for it! Heck, I bet you’d look pretty good in leather yourself.”

Tim gulped for what felt like the millionth time that day because the mere thought of himself in leather clothes was truly too much for his exceptional mental capacities to comprehend.

After a brief pause, he asked more quietly, “You … won’t tell … Bruce or Alfred about … ", he gestured helplessly with his hands, "this, will you?”

“Of course not, Timmy. Bird Boy solidarity.” With a warm genuine smile, Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulders again. “But if I may make a suggestion…”

Tim’s eyes followed Jason’s downward gaze until he saw what his brother was referring to: Tim’s penis was still a sturdy tent pole in his school trousers

“Maybe you wanna have a shower and take care of that before the old folks come back, huh?”, Jason suggested carefully. With a shocked gasp and newly blushing cheeks, Tim turned around on the spot and ran straight for the heavy Manor doors. Jason chuckled as he watched his brother vanish into the big house. Dick would be working late tonight, so he might as well stick around for Alfred to come back and luxuriate in the bliss that was his afternoon tea.

***

15 minutes later, Detective Dick Grayson was sitting at his desk at Blüdhaven PD, typing up the report file on a case he’d closed last week when his phone beside him buzzed with a new message and the screen lit up. Taking a quick look at the screen, Dick’s face lit up as well – the message was from his boyfriend.

Little Wing: U free this Saturday?

He opened the chat and began typing.

Big Bird: Sure why?

Dick didn't have to wait long for a reply.

Little Wing: We have a new birdy to go see Caleb…

Dick couldn’t help but laugh at that insinuation. The two of them had wondered for months if Tim was gay and possibly even into leather just like them. It looked like Jason picking him up from school in his iconic Urban Knights gear had resolved that mystery for good. Dick smiled at the thought. Yet another Robin with a thing for leather, apparently. He was just beginning to type his response when another message came through.

Little Wing: Maybe Conner can join us to spice things up. Timmy definitely got the hots for him

Another question answered, then, Dick thought. Tim may be the newest prodigy of the World’s Greatest Detective, but he still had a lot to learn about stealth when it comes to secretly staring at his not-so-secret crush. Satisfied and slightly bemused, Dick typed his answer and hit 'send'.

Big Bird: Ill make some calls😉

Then he opened his contacts and pulled up Clark Kent’s number.

Chapter Text

“Third floor on the left!”, the perpetually cheerful voice of Dick Grayson cracked through the speaker next to the door of the brownstone building in Blüdhaven, and the heavy oak door buzzed open. With equal amounts of excitement and nervousness, Conner Kent stepped into the stairwell of the nicely renovated house and began his ascent upstairs.

To say that he had been surprised when his dad had received a call earlier this week from none other than Dick Grayson himself, inviting Conner over to Blüdhaven to spend the weekend together with the Waynes, would be an understatement. He had been visibly shocked. Sure enough, Tim was his best friend, and the two teenagers tried to spend as much time together as they possibly could. But Dick and Jason were a different matter. They were the cool ones, occupying that nice sweet-spot where they were old enough to no longer be considered precocious teenagers, but also not quite old enough yet to be uncool adults.

At least that’s how Tim had described it one day, because naturally Conner wouldn’t know himself. Even though Conner physically had the body of a 17-year-old boy in terms of human Earth years, he had spent most of that time so far unconscious, trapped in a glass cell in an underground laboratory funded by LexCorp. It was only two years ago that he had finally been freed from his allegedly science-devoted captivity, and in a telling twist of fate, the first face he had seen upon gaining his senses had been Tim’s, or rather Robin’s.

Unsurprisingly, those first few days had been quite traumatic to say the least for Conner, and how could they not have been? To be told that you were a fucking clone?! Born and raised in a lab, created from DNA that was half Superman, half Lex Luthor? The best and the worst people in the world inscribed into your very genes?

Conner had felt confused, angry, and alone and would have lost it multiple times throughout the whole ordeal if it hadn’t been for the one reassuring, familiar face that was always there in the room for his gaze to return to when things got too stressful: Robin. In retrospect, Conner had no idea how he would have survived his ‘birth’ without the anchoring smiling presence of the Boy Wonder by his side.

Once it was decided that Conner was not a threat to mankind, and that his powers were probably best harnessed by training him to become a superhero in his own right – the name Superboy fittingly suggested by none other than Robin, of course – the teenagers quickly forged a strong bond. While it started on the professional level as fellow Teen Titans, it soon seeped into their private lives as well, and Conner learned that beyond the imposing moniker of the Boy Wonder, there was actually a surprisingly shy yet utterly adorable dork named Timothy Drake.

Ever since then, Tim had become Conner’s number one reference point for anything about life on Earth that was unfamiliar to the clone, which boiled down to just about the entirety of human culture. Especially during his first weeks at Smallville High, Conner would call Tim between almost every lesson to ask him about some reference that he hadn’t quite gotten, whether it was a reference by one of his teachers or by his fellow students.  

What’s the American Revolution?

Who was Jack the Ripper?

How can the floor be lava?

One Saturday after his first month at school, when he and Tim were hanging out at the Manor – turns out some people don’t live on farms, but in small castles – Conner, who had still so much to learn about human emotions, opened up a bit about his experience of hardly knowing anything about the world in which he was living.

“I feel so stupid. All the time. Sometimes I wonder why the others don’t hate me, or at least make fun of me. I was sure I would be the unpopular new kid, as Dad called it”, he said, lost in thought and barely paying attention to the series playing on the big television in front of them.

“Trust me, you’ll never be unpopular in high school, looking like you do.”

At that, Conner whipped his head around to look at Tim and inquired, “What do you mean?”. But Tim, to Conner’s slight annoyance, said nothing, his eyes purposefully fixed on the screen and the slightest hint of colour emerging on his pale cheeks. After that, Tim never brought up Conner’s looks again, so the Half-Kryptonian had yet to find out if there was anything wrong with his appearance.

Hanging out with Tim on weekends quickly became his routine, but usually they would do the calling themselves. If Tim would stay over in Smallville, he would Clark beforehand and ask for permission, and if Conner would spend the weekend in Gotham he would ring the Manor where the level of awkwardness during the phone call would depend on who picks up. The levels ranged from not awkward at all (Dick) to slightly weird (Jason) to solidly awkward (Alfred) to get-me-the-fuck-outta-here (Bruce). Which had made it so weird when Dick of all people had called Clark, rather than Tim himself.

Still Conner would never pass up on a chance to spend time with his best friend, no matter the cause, so he did not think any ill of it. Both of them had been busy the past week with schoolwork anyway, so much so that they had barely even texted, so it would be a nice opportunity to catch up with Tim’s life and also get to know his brothers a bit more. Plus, it was always fancy to be allowed to use the Zeta tube network for private, non-mission related purposes like this. Having Superman as your dad did come in handy, every now and then.

When Conner reached the third floor, the door to the apartment already stood open and he was greeted by the famous Oscar, whom he only knew from Instagram thus far. The cat sat in the doorway and looking at him imperiously with his amber eyes, as if deciding whether Conner was worthy to be allowed inside. Then, seemingly having made up his mind, Oscar strolled over to the boy, began to purr and rub his body against Conner’s legs, which the teenager took as a sign of approval to step inside.

The apartment was a fascinating mix of order – which, as Tim had informed Conner once, apparently was Jason’s doing – and utter chaos – the doing of Dick Grayson. Conner took off his shoes, left them along with the duffel bag he was carrying by the door and walked from the entrance area along a small corridor towards where he already sensed the presence of another body on the right. Sure enough, that same moment, Dick Grayson’s voice called to him from that room.

“Make yourself at home, Conner! I’m in the living room, trying to clean up a bit before Tim and Jay get here.”

When Conner bent the corner, he understood. The living-room, otherwise cosily furnished, was cluttered with take-away boxes, worn clothes, and papers that Conner’s sharp eyes quickly identified as case files. Among the chaos there was Dick Grayson, in black jeans and a baby-blue hoodie, currently with his back towards Conner, a coffee mug in one hand and a cereal bowl in the other, trying to work out the best way to reach the kitchen through the mess.

“Sorry about all this”, he apologized as he stepped tentatively towards the open kitchen next door. “I’d wanted to clean this up last night, but patrol took way longer than expected and when I finally came back, I just crashed.”

“No worries”, Conner smiled. “My room’s a mess all the time, too.”

“Ha, Tim told me as much”, Dick laughed as he put the cup and bowl in the dish washer and turned back towards the living-room. “But surely it can’t be as bad as – oh!”

Dick stopped dead in his tracks when he finally saw Conner and fell silent.

After a few seconds, Conner spoke up, “What’s wrong, Dick?”

“Oh, no, no”, Dick hastily apologized, “nothing’s wrong, Conner, sorry, I was just, ehm, startled by your outfit.”

“Oh!” Now it was Conner’s turn to appear startled. “Did I dress inappropriately for today?” He looked down at himself nervously. He wore sneakers, navy-blue jeans, a grey t-shirt and his brown leather jacket.

“Oh no, not at all, on the contrary”, Dick reassured him with a smile. “I really like your outfit. Especially the jacket.”

“Thanks, Dick!”, Conner returned Dick’s smile full of relief. “I like the jacket, too. Got it from a vintage shop in Smallville the other day. It’s second-hand, but I don’t care, it looks new to me. Been wearing it almost none-stop ever since.”

“Ah, so is this the jacket that you wore in your Instagram post the other day?”, Dick inquired.

“Sure is”, Conner announced, popping the collar of the jacket.

“Interesting”, Dick replied, the smile on his face suddenly betraying some deeper meaning that Conner couldn’t quite interpret. Then the original Robin continued. “You ever considered getting a brand-new leather jacket for yourself?

Conner felt himself blush at the thought. “I mean, yeah, of course, I’d love to, but they are, like, super expensive, and with Teen Titans stuff and helping out Dad on the farm, I haven’t had time to get a proper job yet, so I’ll probably just stick to this one for now.”

“Of course, I understand, they are quite pricey. You don’t make that kind of investment lightly. But just know that it looks pretty good on you.”

“Thank you, Dick”, Conner replied with another blush. “I just like the look and how it feels on my body.”

Picking up a scatter of random papers from the floor and piling them up orderly, Conner distinctly heard Dick murmured under his breath, “As does Tim”. The clone frowned but did not say anything. Was that comment meant for Conner? Or did Dick accidentally just think out loud? The man behind Nightwing had to know that with Conner’s heightened senses his ears could pick up almost anything. Not to mention the meaning of the actual words. Why would Tim like the look of Conner’s leather jacket on his body? Why would Dick know about that? And what did any of that even freaking matter for today?

Before he could spin his mental conspiracy any further, Conner’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening and the husky voice of Jason Todd calling, “We’re here!”

A few seconds later, Jason appeared in the room with Oscar right by his side, dressed in dark grey sweatpants, a light blue denim jacket and a red Wonder Woman t-shirt. Taking in the still quite messy state of the living room, the man let out a deep sigh, and said “You know, Dickie, there are these things called bins and file boxes, not sure you’ve ever heard of those.”

“Both of which, in my defence, prove completely impractical to use after hours of arduous and painful patrol”, Dick retorted, while storing the papers in his hand away in a folder on the sofa table.

“Getting your sorry ass whopped is no excuse for a messy flat”, Jason deadpanned.

With a smirk, Dick rose up, walked over to his boyfriend and said, “You’re just jealous that somebody else got to see this ass last night and you didn’t”, finishing his taunt with a light kiss before retreating back towards the kitchen.

“You wish”, Jason smirked but gave Dick’s famous behind a light smack all the same.

It was the first time that Conner experienced Dick and Jason as a couple together outside of the Manor, and it was just as confusing to him as Tim had predicted. Human relationships were still difficult for him to wrap his head around even at the best of times, but this was on a completely different level. Tim once had tried to explain it. “It’s like brothers who also date, but it’s not really incest either because they’re just adopted. You know?”

Shockingly, Conner hadn't known.

Instead, when Conner had stared at Tim in response, looking like incomprehension personified, the Boy Wonder had merely sighed, “It’s their own weird little thing. I don’t get it either, but it works and they’re happy together, so whatever.”

Back in the apartment, Tim also appeared in the door frame that same moment in dark baggy jeans and a black oversized hoodie with the Final Fantasy logo printed across the chest, all of which gave Conner the strange desire to walk over to his best friend and wrap his arms around him. First noticing the mess on the ground and then looking up, the little colour that Tim had in his face vacated his cheeks immediately when he saw Conner.

“Con! What are you doing here?!”, Tim asked quickly, his voice several pitches higher than usual.

“Dick and Jason invited me over for the weekend. Apparently, we’ll spend today in Blüdhaven and then drive over to Gotham tonight”, Conner answered truthfully, remembering what Dick had said to his dad on the phone but unsure whether his best friend was happy or not about the revelation. The shocked “WHAT?!” with which Tim turned to Jason the next second did not give him much confidence. Instead, it merely increased his confusion. Had his best friend not known that he was coming as well? What kind of game were Dick and Jason playing?

“We wanted to surprise you, Timbers!”, Jason explained. “We know you and Conner are best pals, so we thought, why not spend a weekend together? Have some fun? We all need some time off every once in a while, especially a workaholic like yourself.”

“I’m not a workaholic!”, Tim protested.

“Well, the amount of coffee you consume every day according to Alfred says otherwise”, Jason returned the fire with a raised eyebrow.

“The treachery…”, Tim mumbled angrily.

“Besides”, Jason continued, “Conner’s already here anyway, so you’re not gonna be so rude and just send him back to Smallville, are you?”

Finally, Tim had the courage to look Conner in the eyes, the angry surprise gradually giving way to apologetic kindness.

“Of course not”, Tim murmured slightly embarrassed, “sorry, Con.” He sent a soft reconciliatory smile in Conner’s direction, with the effect that now Conner not only wanted to hug the boy but also ruffle his dark fluffy hair, neither of which he had ever quite felt before.

“No worries”, Conner returned his smile reassuringly.

“That’s the spirit, boys”, Jason cheered, gripping Tim’s shoulder with one hand, and Conner’s with the other. “Can’t have tension between the sons of Batman and Superman, can we?”

“Alright”, Dick interjected loudly at that moment, returning to the living-room. “The dishwasher is up and running, Oscar's all fed, we’re good to go.”

“Go where, exactly?”, Tim asked, scepticism clouding his voice again.

“You’ll find out soon enough, Babybird”, Dick said, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair, much to said brother’s protest.

“Okay, last one in the car has to do Dickface’s dirty laundry!”, Jason exclaimed.

A couple of minutes as well as plenty of shoving and cursing later, the 4 young men found themselves crammed into Jason’s old Ford, driving into central Blüdhaven: Jason in the driver’s seat, Dick in the passenger’s seat, and Tim and Conner together in the back. Dick had intentionally sat down last, graciously volunteering to do his own laundry, thank you very much, Jason. 

“Don’t worry, boys”, Dick announced over his shoulder, “we won’t be long. Less than 10 minutes probably, depending on the traffic. We’re just going to the other side of ‘Haven.”

“I guess you’re still not telling us our destination?”, Tim grumbled beside him.

“All you need to know is that we’re going to a friend. You’ll see the rest when we get there. Oh, and perhaps you should now: this friend knows about our night-time activities.”

“WHAT?!”, Tim cried in outrage, leaning forward in his seat. “Are you out of your mind, Dick?! Does Bruce know about this?!”

“Relaaax, kiddo”, Dick tried to soothe his brother. “Bruce knows. Not that he would have had much of a chance to intervene.”

Tim’s quizzical face remained silent, so Dick went on.

“It happened when Jay was …”

A heaviness suddenly filled the inside of the car, which Conner didn’t fully understand. He hadn’t quite figured out the dynamics of the Batfamily yet, aside from the order of Robins. All he knew about Jason was that he had been Dick’s successor as the Boy Wonder and that he had gone missing for several years before returning as Red Hood. Conner had learned that it was one of the few topics not to be addressed at the Manor.

“…Absent”, Jason finished Dick’s sentence, looking over at him with understanding eyes.

“Yes, absent”, Dick repeated thankfully, quickly squeezing Jason’s hand on the steering wheel. “Anyway, so this one night, I was ambushed by a bunch of bikers who did quite the number on me, I’m afraid to say. Stab wounds, blood loss, the whole shebang. I did get away, but I realized halfway through that I was too badly injured to make it to any of my safe houses, so I decided to go to this guy I knew instead, who lived nearby. He was already my closest friend in ‘Haven and my gut instinct told me that I could trust him.”

“Your gut instinct?”, Tim asked doubtfully. “How professional.”

“Why don’t you call us next time you’re bleeding out on some decrepit roof with no help in sight, Replacement?”, Jason chimed in at that point with a smirk. “Then we can talk about professionalism.”

“Easily done”, Tim argued, “because unlike you two, I don’t let myself get ambushed by a bunch of bikers.”

“No, just by your older and superior brother.”

Damn, Conner, thought, these guys really hold nothing back against each other, especially Tim and Jason. And from what Tim had told him, these were the Batbros being nice to each other. If that’s the case, he really did not want to experience the three being deliberately not nice to one another…

“Alright, alright, calm down, everybody”, Dick attempted to pacify. “I was just trying to explain how I ended up at his place as Nightwing. Anyway, he did patch me up again, but I couldn’t just leave like that after he basically saved my life. So, the next morning I decided to take off my mask and tell him, and of course from there it was easy to piece together the rest, especially once the new Robin and Red Hood showed up on the scene.”

“How did Bruce react when you told him?”, Tim wanted to know, less agitated now.

“Well, he clearly wasn’t happy, as you can imagine, but he got over it eventually.”

“Better unmasked than dead. Speaking from experience”, Jason added with a sharp laugh that Conner couldn’t read properly. Then a thought came into his head.

“Does this friend also know that I’m Superboy?”

Dick paused for a moment, thinking, then answered, “Actually I don’t think he does. Just about the three of us, plus Batman. But to be honest, I wouldn’t put it past him to connect the dots once he sees you with us. But like I said, he’s my closest friend in Blüdhaven. He could have ratted me out a long time ago if he wanted to, so even if he does find out about you, you don’t have anything to worry about, Conner.”

Dick finished the little speech with a smile in the mirror directed straight at Conner. Nothing more reassuring than a personal, warm Dick Grayson smile. “Thanks, Dick”, Conner replied appreciatively.

The rest of the car ride was pretty quiet and uneventful, aside from the occasional stealth glances at Conner that Tim would throw from his seat behind Jason. At first, Conner pretended not to notice, but after the fourth glance, he turned his head around and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that, Tim? Is something wrong”

Immediately, Tim’s eyes widened, and his cheeks started to blush, annoying Conner ever so slightly. Human emotions were one of his most hated topics that he still hadn’t quite mastered. Just when he thought he’d figured everything out, some new emotional reaction would come along and the affective textbook in his brain would have to be rewritten all over again. The blush was a perfect example for this. Was it a sign of a positive emotion? Something that you enjoyed? Or of something bad? Something you particularly disliked?

The nervous words that Tim stammered next did not help to clean up Conner’s confusion. “N-no, Con, nothing’s wrong, it’s just that I, I, …. I, eh, like you jacket, it’s cool.”

Another comment about his jacket, so shortly after the first one from Dick, was not what he had expected. Before he could say anything in response, Tim continued, “It looks good. I mean the jacket. Looks good. On you. Of course, you look good too, regardless of the jacket. But I meant the jacket. Oh God, never mind…” With that, Tim directed his deeply red face towards the hands in his laps, which were tightly knotted and clawing each other.

Conner could really use a chat with the World’s Greatest Detective right now, because Tim Drake was one big mystery to him that he was completely unable to solve. All he managed was a decidedly neutral “Thanks, Timmy” in reply, looking at his best friend who still only had eyes for his lap. Meanwhile Conner did not miss the uncharacteristically silent grins that Jason and Dick were exchanging in the front, making Conner sigh: His weekend with the Waynes had barely begun, and already his head was beginning to ache with confusion.

Thankfully, only a few minutes later, Jason parked the car outside of what Conner presumed to be their destination and they got out. It was a square, multi-storied building which appeared to be made out of red bricks. To Conner’s untrained eye, it looked like a rather old structure which had been renovated a few years ago. A sign close to the door on the left-hand side announced the name Urban Knights, accompanied by a long window spread which displayed biker clothing on dummies, as well as photos of none other than Dick Grayson in those very clothes.

“You’re a model?”, Conner asked innocently, his curiosity piqued.

“Have been for a few years now, actually. It started sometime after Jason first moved into the Manor, and now I’m the face of the company. It’s just a side gig. I’m still a policeman first and foremost. But I love their clothes and it’s nice to express that side of me every once in a while.”

An affirmative “Hmm” came from Jason, followed by a stricken “Please tell me you’re joking” from Tim. Looking at him, Conner found that his best friend’s face had assumed the paleness of a ghost.

“I’m definitely not, Babybird”, Dick cheered. “And to make things even better, today we’re going in and getting you your own biker gear.”

“WHAT?!”, Tim shrieked, his voice a good two octaves higher than normal and the paleness of his face suddenly turning into a deep red.

“Jay told me how much you enjoyed riding his Harley with him when he picked you up from school the other day”, Dick explained, clasping Tim’s shoulder, “so we thought, why not deck you out in Urban Knight leathers and then give you riding lessons, so that you can get your own bike? Jay and I did so too when we were roughly your age, so why not turn it into a family tradition?”

Tim’s eyes threw silent daggers in Jason’s direction, who merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow in response.

In Conner’s direction, he added, “And we decided to bring along Conner too, maybe he’ll find a nice piece here as well. After all, he seems to be our resident leather jacket expert these days.” Dick emphasized the end of that line with a wink, only adding further to the boy’s confusion.

When neither Conner nor Tim said anything else, the older two men took the initiative and led them to the door. Although the store was large to Conner’s eye – on old factory building that apparently had been refurbished to become a hip biker store – it was already pretty packed with people. Due to his Kryptonian senses, Conner had to concentrate mentally to drown out the many voices as well as the low rock music playing in the background and to keep his mind focussed, something that he had gotten better at since high school, but which still caught him off guard every now and then.

The four of them had barely stepped through the door when a man’s voice rang over to them. “Dick! Jason! What a surprise! Great to see you, guys!” The next second, the man to whom this voice belonged to appeared in Conner’s vision. To say that he struck an impressive figure would be an understatement.

He had short blond hair that was fashionably tousled similarly to Dick's and Jason's, a handsome face with a sharp jawline, and broad shoulders. His upper body was clad in a simple black t-shirt which not only highlighted what looked to be a very athletic torso underneath, but also muscular arms that were covered in tattoos. The pants, however, were the main event. They clung to the man’s rather toned legs like a second skin and were made out of dark matt material that Conner had never seen before. It had a different texture that denim, but it also lacked the shiny gloss that he had seen from leather jackets, including his own that he was wearing right now. Still, it looked completely captivating to Conner’s inexperienced eye and strangely made him want to move closer to the man and run his hands all over his legs pants, a sensation that the Half-Kryptonian most definitely was not accustomed to and that did make his mental concentration any easier.

After the man had hugged both Dick and Jason, he turned to the rest of the group and asked happily, “So what brings four young men like yourselves to Urban Knights on this fine Saturday morning?”

In a voice low enough so that none of the other customers could hear it, Jason murmured, “There’s another Robin who wants to become a biker.”

More loudly, Dick added, “Our youngest brother Tim right here”, squeezing Tim’s shoulder and sending his face into a blushing tailspin of despair, “recently had his first experience on a bike when Jay picked him up from school, and apparently he very much enjoyed it, so we decided it was time to continue the legacy and get him the best biker gear in the world.”

Pointing towards Conner, Dick added, “And as you can see, Tim’s best friend Conner strikes a rather fine figure in leather too, so he should feel right at home here”.

“Ah, so you’re Tim, an honour to meet you”, the man smiled and shook Tim’s hand, only deepening the boy’s blush. The he moved on to Conner, announcing, “pleasure to meet you Conner!”, and eliciting another weird spark in the boy’s chest. “I’m Caleb Hunter, CEO of Urban Knights.”

“CEO?!”, Jason gaped. “Damn, Cay, you’re rising up in the world, man! First time Dick took me here, you had just been promoted to co-director!”

“Yeah, well, you know, it’s only been a few days actually”, Caleb tried to deflect somewhat bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand and thus involuntary flexing – much to Conner’s attention – his substantial biceps. “The company is flourishing, but the old CEO wanted to move on to other ventures, so one thing led to another. You guys are actually quite lucky that you caught me today. I’m barely down in the shop any more these days with everything else that I’m in charge off now, but we’re putting the final details together on a new line that we’re about to launch next spring, so I’m trying it out myself.” He looked down along his body and gave his thighs a little slap.

Before he knew what he was doing, Conner blurted out, “I like your pants!”, immediately making everyone’s faces turn towards him and a slight smirk appear on Caleb’s face. The weird sensation the boy had felt upon first seeing the older man and then shaking his hand intensified.

“Oh, do you now?”, Caleb grinned. “I’m glad. Guess the new line passed its first customer evaluation then. These pants are actually made from sheep leather. The processing is a bit different than with our other products, so they look less shiny and are a bit sturdier, almost like suede, but I think they’ll make a good addition to our collection. Especially”, now Caleb turned to Dick with a wide grin, “once the new campaign with our trusty supermodel is up and running.”

“Only if I get a free pair”, Dick answered cheekily.

“And then some”, Caleb returned with a wink that seemed to be directed at both Dick and Jason, the latter of whom merely smirked knowingly during the exchange.

Yeah, Conner was confused. Big time.

Laughing to himself, Dick remembered their teenage company and said, “I assume you still have the Midnight collection stocked? We’d like Tim to get the same gear that Jay and I got.”

“Of course”, Caleb replied with a less insinuating smile. “We will have that line stocked till the end of time. It’s our signature collection. Boda Skins have the Kay Michaels, Urban Knights have the Midnight collection. You still know where to find it?”

“Oh yeah”, Jason answered this time. “We know our way around.”

“Thought so”, Caleb winked. “If you have any questions, I’m around. And let me know when young Tim has his gear on. I’d like to see the tradition continue myself.”

With that Caleb vanished in the crowd of customers. Jay already guided Tim towards a rack on the far side of the store near the changing rooms, with Tim throwing one last pleading look over his shoulder at Conner. Before he followed them, Dick turned to Conner and said, “Jay and I will be in the back with Tim, okay? Feel free to look around yourself though, too. Maybe you’ll find a nice pair of pants to match your jacket.”

Another infuriatingly confusing wink from Dick, then the young man was off towards his brothers, leaving Conner behind to slowly roam around the packed shop. The customers were almost exclusively men, with the few women he could spot seemingly just being there to accompany their boyfriends or husbands. Conner hadn’t noticed any female advertising in the window outside, so maybe Urban Knight’s only produced men’s clothing. He’d have to ask Caleb about that.

The majority of pieces they were selling black, which did not surprise Conner. Most leather jackets he had seen on other people were indeed black, so it seemed to be the most fashionable colour among humans, at least for leather. After a couple of minutes, though, Conner found a few racks in a less-crowded corner with clothes in different colours, including – he spotted it immediately – a pair of leather pants in a tone of brown similar to his jacket.

Intrigued, Conner went straight over to the rack and held out the right sleeve of his jacket against the legs of the trousers. He gasped. The tones weren’t just similar – they were exactly the same. He’d never thought he’d find something to match his pants. What were the odds to find leather pants in exactly the same brown tone as a vintage jacket from a second-hand shop in Smallville?

Excited by the discovery, Conner dared to reach out his hands and touch the trousers and gasped again. The leather felt incredible under his fingers, cold, smooth, supple, and expensive. As he let his fingers glide down the slick fabric, Conner started to feel another sensation that he could not fully explain. It came from the crotch of his jeans, which he realized were becoming somewhat tight. Conner frowned and looked down along his body, only to see that the bulge between his legs was indeed slightly bigger than usual. Although Conner had taken some anatomy classed before, he didn’t understand. He always wore pretty skinny jeans, so the feeling of tightness around his strong legs was nothing new, but this feeling below his belt definitely was. It was slightly uncomfortable, but not altogether unpleasant, either, Conner concluded as he let his left hand brush across the mounting denim. A thrilling spark of energy ran through his muscular body at the touch.

“You should try them on”, a voice suddenly whispered into his ear. Shocked, Conner turned around and stood face to face with Caleb. How could this man have sneaked up on him like that?! He was Superboy! Had he supressed his Kryptonian senses too much to drown out the plethora of voices?

…Or had he been simply too distracted by the sensation between his legs? A sensation that did not lessen in the slightest now that Conner stood mere inches away from the blond man in his enticing leather pants.

Feeling blood rush to his cheeks, Conner’s voice hitched and only produced an appropriately confused “W-what?” in response to Caleb.

The latter merely laughed and took the pants that Conner had been caressing seconds ago from the rack, handing them over to the blushing boy whose voice hitched again when his fingers touched the leather.

Nodding his head in the direction of the pants, Caleb said, “The pants. You should try them on. They match the tone of your jacket perfectly and would probably look pretty good on you, with a super body like yours.” He winked at the word ‘super’, something that Conner should have probably commented on. But in his unusually flustered state, he merely managed, “But I don’t even have a motorbike, let alone know how to drive one.” In a more quiet, slightly embarrassed tone, he added, “And I can’t afford to buy these anyway, unfortunately.”

Caleb was undismayed. “The good news is that all our pants are designed in a way that you can wear them both as biker gear and as casual clothing, too, so no biking necessary to get the best out of those pants. So why don’t you try them on first and leave the price tag question to me?”

He threw his right arm around Conner’s shoulder as if they were best bros already and guided the younger boy to the back of the shop where the changing rooms were located. Every cabin seemed to be occupied so Caleb led them to the one in front of which Dick and Jason stood waiting. “You think your little brother would mind sharing his room? All other cabins are taken, and Conner has found a nice pair pants that he seems eager to try on.” The way that Caleb emphasized the word ‘eager’ reenergized Conner’s embarrassed blush, no matter how correct the blond man was in saying so.

Dick and Jay looked up at the same time, spotted the trousers in Conner’s hands – which were conveniently concealing whatever was happening in his pants – and quickly grinned at each other, before Dick announced overly cheerfully, “Not at all! Timmy is such a slender boy, I bet he’d be happy to make room for his best buddy.”

Then several things happened all at once, far too quickly for the confused Conner to process them properly. Dick grabbed the heavy curtain that covered up the changing room and promptly pulled it aside, provoking a high-pitched yelp from the inside. Before Conner could look where, or rather who, that yelp came from, though, he heard Jason say “In ya go”, and was shoved into the cabin himself, the curtain immediately closing behind him.

Breathing in slowly, Conner turned away from the curtain and finally saw the person who had just yelped, and it made his jaw drop.

In front of him stood Tim Drake. Only not the Tim Drake that he knew.

This Tim Drake was not dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie. Rather than that, he was currently wearing a skin-tight pair of black leather pants together with a slim black t-shirt, both of which accentuated the fine lines of his athletic body. In his right hand, he was holding a matching black leather jacket as if reader to put it on. To Conner, it was a revelatory vision, one that made him want to grab and somehow melt the other boy’s body with his own. A vision that the spark between his legs into a blazing fire.

The only thing familiar about this new Tim Drake was the furious blush on his face, along with a nervously high-pitched, “Con, what you are doing in here?!”

Transfixed by Tim’s appearance, Conner said nothing. Instead, he closed the distance between them and laid his free right hand on Tim’s shoulder, eliciting a shuddery breath from his friend, before finally murmuring, “You look incredible, Tim.”

“…Thanks, Con”, Tim whispered in reply.

In amazement, Conner let his eyes wander along Tim’s body, until they reached his waist and saw that Tim’s crotch was just as swollen as Conner’s, if not even more so.

“What is that?!”, Conner asked promptly. Perplexed, Tim followed Conner’s gaze to see what he was referring too, and his blush deepened even further. He answered in a slow voice as if trying to calm himself down through speaking.

“Oh, that’s ehm, there’s actually several names for it, you know. Boner. Hard-on. Erection is probably the most neutral term. Blood rushes into your penis, and it swells in size and thickness. It happens when you’re, ehm, sexually aroused.”

Conner kept staring at Tim’s crotch, thankfully ignoring his friend's volcano-red cheeks, before he gingerly reached to touch Tim’s leather-clad crotch. Instantly the boy whimpered at the contact. As if not taking note, Conner started fondling Tim’s boner and inquired neutrally, “So that means you’re sexually aroused right now?” The stretched-out leather, together with Tim’s body heat, felt incredible to Conner’s fingers and only increased his own genital tightness.

“Oh yeah”, Tim panted heavily. “Eventually, though, the arousal will reach a tipping point and the penis will ejaculate a bodily fluid named semen. The whole thing’s called orgasm and it can be pretty embarrassing when it happens in public. Like when somebody’s fondling your boner, for example.”

“Oh!”, Conner started, understanding Tim’s reference for once and immediately pulling his hand away. Tim let out a relived sigh and eventually said in disbelief, “Con, are you telling me you’ve never had an erection before?”

“Actually”, he replied somewhat bashfully and revealed what he had been hiding behind the pants in his hands, “I think I’m having one right now, too.” In fact, Conner’s crotch by now was fully tenting out, almost stiff enough to poke Tim’s own bulge with its tip.

“Wow”, Tim gasped at the reveal, “so I guess Kryptonians get hard too, huh?”

“Ha, I guess so”, Conner laughed. “Though I’m not sure what exactly started it. I first noticed it when I was checking out these pants. Then Caleb came over to me I got all weird and nervous. And then finally… you. In those leather pants.”

“Well, thanks”, Tim replied in a barely audible voice. “I gotta say, looking at you in that leather jacket doesn’t make my cock any softer, either.”

They both laughed, but then fell silent. After a few seconds, Tim tentatively spoke up. “Sooo, what do we do now? Wait here until our boners dwindle and we can leave this cabin without my brothers noticing how horny we both are?”

Conner pondered for a moment, then he said, “Well, I still have to try on my pants. And you still got your jacket. Would be shame not to at least try them out, don’t you think?”

“Although, that probably won’t help us in the genital department”, Tim answered, with the subtlest hint of a smirk around his lips.

“Let’s cross that valley when we get to it”, Conner answered, before adding, “Is that how the saying goes?”

“Close enough”, Tim laughed. “Let’s turn around, though, so that we don’t see each other until we’re both done.”

As suggested, Conner turned around and quickly began to unbuckle his belt and open the fly of his jeans. The second he started pulling down his pants, his rock-hard boner jumped up in his grey boxer briefs. Once bare-legged, he grabbed the brown leather pants and stepped into them. Or rather tried stepping into them. For all the skinny jeans he owned, these were by far the tightest pants he had ever tried on, and he stumbled not to lose his balance more than once in the process. The arousing tingle that the leather created on his bare skin did not make his bodily coordination any better.

How does Tim manage this?!, he wondered silently halfway through.

Eventually, he was standing upright in the pants and buttoned up the fly, struggling to suppress the excited pant that was gathering in his mouth. His penis was so stiff that Conner could barely fit it back into his trousers, the pressure of the tight leather only spurring his excitement on further. When he was done, he hesitantly asked, “Ready?”

“Ready”, came Tim’s equally hesitant reply, and Conner turned around.

Conner gasped again, speechless at the sight before him. The leather jacket was perfectly fitted to Tim’s slightly smaller frame, giving the final missing piece to the dark and edgy look of the pants and the t-shirt. So far, Conner had never quite gotten the meaning of the word ‘sexy’ when he'd heard his high school peers use it, but staring at leather-clad Tim Drake, he finally got. He was the epitome of sexy.

Why had he never noticed before how utterly gorgeous his best friend was?

Apparently, that very Tim Drake thought the same about him because he merely gasped, “Fuck, Conner, you’re hot. Like, blazing, hell-fire kind of hot.”

The Half-Kryptonian couldn’t help but laugh at that last addition and said, “Right back at you”, adding himself in a whisper “Pretty Boy Wonder”. Tim sniggered despite himself. When he’d composed himself, he stepped next to Conner so that they were staring into the mirror side by side.

It was a vision that had to be seen to be believed. Two blank-haired teenage boys, one slightly bulkier than the other but both equally handsome, dressed head-to-toe in leather. One in black, the other in brown. Both of their arousals glaringly obvious in their bulging trousers.

“Wow”, Conner said, “we almost look like…” He struggled to find the right word, but when he did, Tim uttered it together with him.

“…Boyfriends.”

With bated breath, Conner slowly pivoted towards the slightly smaller boy and gazed into his deep blue eyes. Then he leaned forward, closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips onto Tim’s, which felt soft, warm, and utterly irresistible. It did not take long until he felt Tim running his fingers through Conner’s messy hair, inspiring him to return the gesture. Urgent moans and smacking filled the changing room, accompanied by the occasional squeak when their hard leather bulges rubbed against each other. If prolonged sexual arousal could lead to orgasm like Tim had explained, Conner had to be careful, because he definitely sensed something mounting between his legs and had no idea when he’d reach this alleged tipping point. Too bad that their leather bulges grinding against one another felt so goddamn good that the teenage heroes soon started doing it on purpose, relishing the friction between their excited bodies.

The two leather-clad boys were so entangled in one another that neither of them noticed the black-haired head with the single white strain that peaked through the curtain.

“Well well well, I take it my wedding invite got lost in the mail, huh?”

“Aaahhh”, both boys jumped apart with a start, staring horrified at the smirking intruder. “Jason, what the fuck! Have you ever heard about privacy?”, Tim revolted.

Jason merely raised an eyebrow and countered, “Have you ever heard about not keeping your brothers waiting for ever? Although, now that I see the reason for keeping us waiting, I can’t say I blame yah.” He winked, because of fucking course he did.

That same moment the equally cheerful and curious voice of Dick Grayson sounded from beyond the curtain. “So, how do they look? Is it a ‘yes’?”

With another smirk, Jason pulled the curtain fully aside and revealed the two leather-clad teenagers to the impressed eyes of Caleb and Dick.

“Oh, it’s a yes, alright”, Jason drawled. “A hard yes, if I do say so myself.”

Neither Conner nor Tim managed to utter any response, instead burning internally from the quickly spreading blushes on their faces.

“Wow!”, Dick gaped in awe, while Caleb merely crossed his arms and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what it is with your family and friends, but it’s like each and every one of you was born with a gene to look good in leather.”

Judging from the tenting states of the boys’ bulges, they definitely agreed with that statement, although mercifully none of the three older men commented on that rather obvious detail.

“Guess I start ringing them up for you”, Caleb smiled and disappeared in the direction of the checkout.

“But wait”, Conner started, trying to stop Caleb, but the man was already gone, so he faced Dick and Jason instead. “I can’t buy this. As much as I love these pants. I’m just a broke teenager who could barely afford this second-hand jacket.”

With a smile that thankfully lacked any note of condescension, Dick squeezed Conner’s shoulder and said warmly, “Not to sound like the biggest patronizing dickhead ever”, earning a snigger from Jason at the word ‘dickhead’, “but why don’t you leave the money issue to the ones with a billionaire as their dad? You like those pants, and Tim clearly likes you in them.” Conner deliberately did not look at Tim that moment. “That’s all that matters, okay? We’ll take care of the rest.”

Conner was speechless at the generosity. After a pause, he answered with a soft and hopefully heartfelt smile, “Thank you so much, Dick.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, go, get changed. Jay and I will wait for you at checkout.”

“And don’t do anything else I wouldn’t do”, Jason winked, before Dick rolled his eyes and closed the curtain again. “As if there’s anything you would not do”, Dick commented. Jason shot back, “As if there’s anything you would not want me to do.” Next the sound of a hand slapping a cotton-clad butt could be heard, and the two were out of earshot.

Finally left to themselves, Conner and Tim faced each other again and smiled. “I guess you’re gonna have to take those pants with you after all, whether you’ll like it or not”, Tim grinned.

“And I guess you’re gonna have to let me join you on your future biking lessons, to make sure our gears are put to good use”, Conner returned the grin.

Tim laughed, then, after a pause, he grabbed the lapels of Conner’s leather jacket and pulled the boy closer, gently grinding his bulge against the Half-Kryptonian’s and instantly undoing any softening from before.

In a low voice, he purred, “Hmm, I bet Superboy would look pretty cool in a leather jacket, too. I mean, the t-shirt and jeans are nice and all, but they could need a little extra to spice things up. What do you think?”

“I think you might be right”, Conner smirked, “Boyfriend Wonder.”

“Alright”, Tim grinned excitedly, “Superboyfriend”, landing another kiss on the Half-Kryptonian’s more than receptive mouth.

***

Two weeks later…

Robin was sitting on the couch in the living room of Titans Tower, lazily typing away on his computer to finish an overdue case file for Batman. Meanwhile, Raven was lounged in a chair opposite him, browsing with fascination through a fashion magazine. When the door on the far side of the room opened and Superboy walked in, Robin had to supress a laugh. As well as a groan.

The young hero was dressed in his trademark dark blue jeans and black Super t-shirt, but now he had added a black leather biker jacket to his outfit. Looking up from her magazine, Raven stared at him in wide eyes. “Wow, Conner, that’s a really cool jacket!”

Robin himself probably would have gone with "smoldering hot" or "too sexy for this planet" to describe Superboy in that leather jacket, but Raven wasn't wrong. Superboy most definitely did look cool in that jacket. At the very least.

“Thanks Raven”, the leather-clad hero said, slumping down on the sofa next to Robin.

“I just read about it!”, the dark-haired girl explained excitedly, gesturing towards the magazine in her lap. “How a leather jacket is the one item that will never ever run out of fashion.”

“I’ve heard so, too”, Superboy grinned, turning his head towards Robin. “A little birdie whispered as much to me.”

Chapter Text

“Come here, pretty birdie, let me pluck your hunky feathers!”

A leather-clad arm wrapped itself around Nightwing’s heaving neck. Then –

“Urrggghhh!”, Nightwing cried out, feeling the sharp blade of the Haven Shark’s knife pierce through the protective leather of his suit like butter and straight into his right shoulder.

Instinctively, Nightwing jerked his left elbow backward, hitting the biker under his chin and knocking him away a few steps. But the hero knew that the damage was done, feeling blood gush from his open wound and his already fatigued body weaken at an alarming pace. With his left hand he clasped the injury on his back, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood, while his right hand held onto his remaining Escrima stick for dear life. The other stick, which had been ripped away from him a while ago, was currently being flaunted by one of his three opponents, circling him like predators getting to deliver the final blow to their helpless prey.

Clenching his teeth, Nightwing wondered how this night could have gone so spectacularly wrong so very quickly?! What had been supposed to be just a regular stake-out mission with no enemy engagement had turned into a fight for Nightwing's life in a matter of minutes. In retrospect, he should have known that he was walking into a trap. No genuine drug transaction was ever that poorly guarded, especially if the Haven Sharks were involved, the city’s most notorious gang of bikers who had sent Nightwing packing more than once before.

A better crimefighter would have seen the ambush coming from a mile away.

A crime fighter who wasn’t still grieving the deaths of his lover and his little brother.

Right now, Nightwing wasn’t that kind of crimefighter, though. Right now, Nightwing was the kind of crime fighter who craved the physical pain of patrol to numb out the emotional pain he suffered on the inside.

Yet seeking to replace emotional pain with physical pain was one thing. Finding yourself surrounded by a dozen of absolutely lethal of bikers who couldn’t wait to tear you to pieces was quite something else.

In what seemed to him a miracle, Nightwing had somehow managed to take out no less than nine Sharks, a tale that few men would live to tell. Apparently, turning grief and depression into fury and anger was a good strategy to uncover hitherto unknown reserves of energy. Still, even those reserves were not infinite, and by the time he was down to just three Sharks, he could feel his legs become more unsteady and the hits of his weapon gradually lose their impact. Beads of sweat were starting to gather on the forehead of the leather-clad hero, a sign that Batman’s mighty prodigy was growing tired and exhausted.

A sign not overlooked by his merciless opponents, either.

When one of the goons had successfully landed a blow to the side of his head, Nightwing had been dazed enough for the other one to tear one of Nightwing's Escrima sticks out of his left hand and give the hero a taste of his own electric medicine, ramming the buzzing head of the stick right into Nightwing’s crotch and making the hero scream at the top of his lungs in agony.

“AAAARRGGGHHH!!!!”

Unbearable bolts of energy had shot from his groin all over his muscular body. No leather codpiece in the world could have protected him from the devastating pain of his own electric weapon being used against his well-endowed genitals. One source of Nightwing’s pride, his bulge, was getting destroyed by his other source of pride, his signature weapon.

When the goon had briefly pulled away to admire his handiwork, Nightwing’s ears had been ringing so loudly he could barely hear the man taunting him. “Damn, this is awesome. Love me some roasted birdie. Let’s roast ya some more, Dumbwing!”.

Then he had rammed the stick back against Nightwing’s bulge, filling the room with more bone-chilling screams from the helpless hero along with excited laughter from his peers. They clearly were having the time of their lives, wiping the floor with the self-proclaimed superhero of Blüdhaven

If the Shark hadn’t eventually let go his crotch after a few seconds, Nightwing doubtlessly would have passed out. As it was, he was putting all of his little remaining energy into staying on his two feet and clutching his one remaining weapon amidst the viciously grinning goons. They knew Nightwing was done, and so did Nightwing himself. The original Boy Wonder was merely biding his time, delaying the inevitable.

Blurry shadows of two familiar figures flashed before blurry his eyes that moment. A tall, ginger-haired man in a yellow body suit, and a younger, black-haired boy in a cape and traffic-light coloured fighting armour. They were both walking away from him, glancing over their shoulders and gesturing for him to join them.

Wally, Jay, wait for me, guys!, a voice inside Nightwing’s head had called out. I’ll be with you soon!

In his weakened condition, he had naturally forgotten about the third goon, who had leisurely walked up to the hero and thrust his knife into the young man’s shoulder.

Now here he was. The great protector of Blüdhaven. Completely drained. Semi-disarmed. An openly bleeding stab wound in his shoulder. And three bikers closing in on him, one more eager than the other to give the hero the coup de grace.

Looking at the Escrima stick, then at Nightwing, the thug nearest to the hero jeered, “Poor Batman. Barely buried the last Bird Boy, and now he can start digging another grave all over again. Guess dying comes easy to you winged lot, huh? The higher you fly, the lower you fall. At least you’ll make a prettier corpse than the last birdie. Heard that Joker fucked him up pretty bad, ha!”

How fucking dare this guy mention Jason like that?!, Nightwing seethed silently. A switch suddenly flipped in Nightwing’s brain that very moment.

I will not die tonight. I will survive and come back stronger than ever before to teach these bastards what you get for talking about a Robin like that.

When the Shark with the Escrima stick suddenly made a swinging move in Nightwing’s direction, the hero quickly reached for his utility belt and threw down a smoke grenade. Instantly, the bikers were engulfed in an impenetrable cloud of greyness, neither able to see nor breath in the thick fog. By the time, the air had cleared, Nightwing was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, in the confusion of the smoke grenade, Nightwing had succeeded in exciting through the nearest window and grapple-hooking himself into the roof of a nearby building, where he was currently resting against a brick chimney, thankful for the shadowy cover that it gave him. Now that he was out of immediate danger, shame rose in him again as the cold night air filled is distressed lungs. Nightwing had been so outclassed by his opponents that he'd been forced to either withdraw and run away - which was shameful even at the best of times - or to stay and get beaten to death. There was absolutely no way he could have defeated those Sharks back then, and the brutal fact of that admission started to eat him up inside.

Some hero you are, Wing, a voice in his head chastised him. First, you let your Little Wing die and now you almost get killed yourself too.

Maybe it would have been better for everyone if the Sharks had finished you off for good...

Closing his eyes for a few seconds to catch his breath and drown out that voice, he then let his gaze roam across the surrounding city skyline to remind himself where in Blüdhaven he actually was.

The West End. Several miles away from his nearest safehouse, let alone his actual apartment.

Just great.

Even in the pale moonlight of the clouded night, he could see the black leather of his right biceps slowly take on a deep crimson tone as the blood from his shoulder injury continued to pour down his arm. Briefly lifting his left hand from the injury, Nightwing saw that the black leather glove was completely covered in blood. He needed medical assistance asap, and with every second he waited more, his strength and chance of making it to one of his safe houses shrank.

Suddenly, a noise from the alley below caught his attention and made him carefully crane his head around the chimney. The three remaining Sharks had recovered from the smoke grenade and left the building.

“Where the fuck he went?”, one of them growled.

So they are looking for me. Fantastic.

“He can’t be far. The bastard could barely stand before he bailed on us”, another one sneered.

Nightwing sighed. As much as he hated these Sharks, they were not wrong. He could barely stand then, and he definitely could not stand now.

Finally, the Shark with the Escrima stick spoke up.

“You guys spread out. Tony, you go that way. Jayce, you take the other way. See if you can find any traces of the fucker. As soon as the others are back up, we can sweep the area more fully. Then we’ll find the bastard and plug him one leathery feather at a time.” On cue, the other two Sharks headed down the alleyway in opposite directions, while the one with Nightwing's weapon stayed where he was.

Dread exploding in his chest, Nightwing let his head rest against the chimney. In his desperate escape, he had completely forgotten about the other Sharks he had fought. Of course, they would not stay knocked out forever. Once they could re-join their peers, the neighbourhood would be teeming with Sharks on the lookout for him. And these guys were not stupid. It would only be a matter a time until they realized that the place to look for an injured Nightwing was not Blüdhaven’s streets, but her roof tops.

Nightwing had to get to safety. He had been lucky to get away the first time. He didn’t want to risk his luck again by falling into their hands once more.

Yet, as soon as he tried to get up, a flash of agony shot through his injured shoulder, and he had to bite his tongue not to cry out and send a direct invitation to the bikers down below.

Fuck, Nightwing cursed silently, my condition is way worse than I thought.

In his current state, there was no way he would reach any of his safe houses without passing out. Or worse. And he couldn’t just walk into the ER either, lest somebody working there was being bribed by one of ‘Haven’s many crime bosses.

If only he had come here via bike…

Biking! That was it!

Suddenly, a light went on in Nightwing’s head. He did know somebody who lived nearby. Or rather, Dick Grayson knew somebody who lived nearby. Somebody who could help him. But was it close enough for him to make it? There was only way to find out. Not that he had much of a choice. If he stayed where he was, the Sharks were bound to find him sooner or later.

But what if did reach his destination? How would he explain the appearance a half-dead vigilante on a seemingly random person’s doorstep in the middle of the night, without giving away his identity? His gut instinct told him that the other person could be trusted. Then again, his gut instinct had also deemed the intel about tonight’s mission trustworthy, and look where that had gotten him.

If I do this, my life could potentially change forever.

If I don’t do this, my life will probably be over in a couple of hours or less.

Guess my mind’s made up, then.

With that thought, Nightwing grabbed his injured shoulder as tightly as he could, bit his tongue, and slowly but painfully pushed himself upright.

***

“Good night, Stella!”

Caleb waved at his friend as she got into the cab and drove off towards her house on the other side of Blüdhaven. Watching the rear lights of the car disappear, down the street, the blond man couldn’t help but smile. He turned around and started the small walk from the bar to his apartment a few blocks away. While Caleb certainly knew how to defend himself, there were definitely parts of Blüdhaven that not even he would walk around at night on his own. Luckily, this neighbourhood tended to be one of the safer areas, although in ‘Haven, there was no such thing as absolute safety.

It was always a great to spend time with Stella, the childhood friend that he’d stayed in touch with throughout all these years. She was funny, clever, and understood him better than anyone else. Also, with her long blond hair and slender body, she looked a supermodel who’d walked right out of the pages of Vogue. Not that the latter point bore any significance to Caleb – although it did have one quite specific advantage.

When Caleb went out by himself, people would usually throw themselves at him and try to sleep with him left right and centre. People of all genders. He just couldn’t help it. Caleb knew objectively that he was a stunningly handsome man. He’d lost count how often he had been complimented on his good looks over the years. While he was not a vain or even arrogant man, he did not shy away from the compliments either. He worked hard on his appearance, so when people commented on it, he was always very appreciative about it. If Caleb wasn’t working at Urban Knights, he would spend his time at the gym, toning his ripped body. After all, he had a reputation to uphold: If you counted celebrity hunk Dick Grayson among your closest friends, you had to keep up.

But his toned physique and chiselled face weren’t all. There were also the tattoos covering his muscular arms, which gave his pretty boy face a rugged tough guy edge. Nobody could resist a bad boy with a heart of gold, he’d found over the years. If that bad boy then also dared to go out in tight black leather pants and a matching biker jacket underneath which he merely wore a slim white Henley – like Caleb had tonight – it was OVER. He could snap his finger and instantly there would be people kneeling in front of him, begging to get their hands on his leather pants, not to mention on what lay underneath those pants.

Not that Caleb would ever make use of this privilege. In all honesty, he could probably count his sexual conquests over the last few years on one hand. Partly that was the result of his job and many extra hours at Urban Knights. It had been a sacrifice he had been more than willing to make. He adored his job and in the current economic climate, you sometimes had to go the extra mile to climb up the ladder. Caleb was certainly on his way up on that front.

But it was also because Caleb had standards. He didn’t just go to bed with any hot guy – sorry ladies – just because they were hot. Caleb himself proved that just because you had an eightpack, you didn’t automatically need to have a vapid, or worse, shitty personality, too. Those standards had definitely solidified when Dick Grayson had walked into his life and had invited him on his first ever threesome with Dick’s equally gorgeous boyfriend Wally West.

Oh Wally…

Ever since Wally’s passing several months ago, and then that of Dick’s kid brother Jason not much later, Caleb had naturally seen far less of the black-haired policeman. Dick had been completely devastated, and unsurprisingly so. Initially, Caleb would stop by at Dick’s apartment every now and then to check on him, but his friend had let him know – though not in an unfriendly manner – that he needed some time to himself. As someone who’d also lost his big brother as a teenager, Caleb perfectly understood and was willing to give Dick all the time and space he needed to process these overwhelming losses back-to-back.

I hope you’re doing okay, Dick, and that you know I’m always there to help you.

Which brings us back to Stella and her distinct advantage. For Caleb, less time to hang out with Dick meant more time to hang out with his other friends, Stella being at the top of that list. As a blond muscle hunk who goes out with a supermodel-esque fashion journalist, people who saw them together naturally assumed that they were a couple. After all, there was no way that a man and a woman this hot would just be friends and not date, right? Especially when people didn’t know that the man was gay and the woman asexual. Therefore, whenever Caleb was out with Stella, his army of admirers would usually keep their distance, ogling at him from a distance a few tables away rather than right in front of him.

Stella, of course, knew all this and absolutely loved it. There was nothing she enjoyed more than walking into a bar, her arms interlocked with Caleb’s, and claiming fake ownership over her hunky best friend. To her, nothing bemused her more than throwing her hair back and sending a smirk across the room that said, Yeah, see this absolute dreamboat of a guy in my arms? He’s mine, so back off, bitches. A gesture that never failed to earn her a thunderstorm of jealous death stares.

In reality, she had never felt the faintest hint of sexual attraction towards Caleb, or anybody for that matter. In fact, when she had come to terms with her asexuality as a teenager, the openly gay Caleb had been her first and biggest supporter, and the two had bonded over being ‘different’ from everybody else. Together, they’d gone through thick and thin, even some life-threatening situations.  That bond had persisted into adulthood and only grown stronger over time. So, in a way, she was correct when she claimed Caleb in public. He was hers. Just not in a sexual or romantic way. And Caleb wouldn’t want it any other way.

Less than 10 minutes later, Caleb stepped into his apartment and hung his biker jacket on the coat rack next to the door. He was living in one of the few fancy new buildings in the neighbourhood, a present he had given himself after his promotion to co-director of Urban Knights. After pulling off his boots, he went into the living-room, switched on the lights, and then stopped. The window that led out to the fire escape was open.

Fuck, he thought. Somebody must have broken in!

Quickly striding over to the window to close it, Caleb turned to his right and full-on startled this time. 

“What the hell!!”, he cried out.

In the corner of the living-room, crouched on the floor with his back against the wall, there was a man. But not just any man, as Caleb realized upon closer inspection. His black dishevelled hair matched the black leather of his body suit. On his chest, a blue emblem in the shape of a bird could be seen, its wings extended into stripes that ran down the man’s muscular arms all the way down to his fingertips. His face was covered by a dark domino mask, white lenses concealing his eyes.

“Nightwing?!”, Caleb gasped in disbelief.

“The one and only”, the superhero grinned, his voice thin and raspy, gesturing a peace sign with his right hand. “Nice to meet you, Caleb.”

Caleb quickly glanced around to make sure there were no hidden cameras in his room playing a really inappropriate prank on him. Then he turned back to Nightwing and demanded quickly,” Okay, first of all: How do you know my name? Second of all: How did you get in here? And third: What the fuck are you even doing here?”

Nonplussed by Caleb’s questions, Nightwing started answering. “First: I’m the protector of this city, so of course I gotta know the people that I protect, right? Also, there’s mail on the table with your name on it.” Another grin from the hero which Caleb certainly did not find charming. Not at all. After all, the guy had just broken into his apartment! “Second: You should invest in a better security system, especially in Haven. Your window was way too easy to crack. And third: I, urgh”, Nightwing grunted that moment, his face twisting into a painful grimace, “kinda need a little help right now.”

It was only then that Caleb fully noticed the hero’s posture and appearance. His pale cheeks wore purple bruises, thin lines of blood running from his brows and lips. He was also clutching the back of his right shoulder with his left hand – and the shoulder was bleeding. A lot.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”, Caleb called out, crouching down in front of the injured man.

“And have been for a while now, too”, Nightwing added weakly, “so if you have a first-aid kit or something to stitch me up, that would be just peachy.”

“Of course! Let me help you up and get you on the sofa! Can you stand?”

“With a little assist, I think so”, Nightwing panted.

Very carefully, Caleb wrapped his right arm around Nightwing’s torso and started lifting him up. Together, they started the slow trudge towards the couch on the other side of the room.

To kill the awkward silence, and because he genuinely wanted to know, Caleb asked, “What happened, by the way? Who did this to you?”

“A bunch of bikers ambushed me. They’ve been a pain in my ass for quite some time now.”

It took every bit of will power that Caleb owned not to make a lewd and completely inappropriate comment about Nightwing’s famous ass right now, when that very Nightwing was currently on the verge of dying in his arms. Although to be fair, the hero had uttered the word first, so he would only be responding, rather than instigating.

Instead, Caleb remarked, “Damn, I somehow thought you superheroes were all invincible.”

“I can assure you we are not”, Nightwing laughed grimly. “Especially if we’re outnumbered by men who fight just as well as ourselves, if not better.” Once they reached the sofa, Caleb propped up a couple of cushions against the arm rest and Nightwing laid down with an exhausted, “Ahhh”.

Looking down at the beaten hero, Caleb was genuinely scared. Until now, he had always felt naively save in the city, despite all the crime reports he constantly heard on the news. And it was all because of Nightwing’s presence. The great protector of the city. Batman’s prodigy who’d rescued him as a teenager and would surely keep him safe as an adult too.

But maybe that all-powerful vigilante wasn’t as powerful as Caleb had always assumed. To think that there were people out there fighting for the side of crime, rather than against it. People who Nighwing openly admitted were just as good as him, if not better. People who could leave one of the most skilled crimefighters in the world bruised, bloody, and on the brink of death. Caleb could simply rip off his mask right now, and there would br nothing the hero could do to stop him. Nightwing was completely at his mercy. The saviour of the city, needing a saviour himself! Could Caleb be that saviour?

Keep it together, Caleb, this man deliberately came to you for help, so you better give it to him!

“Okay”, Caleb exhaled deeply to pull himself together, “I’m gonna get the medical kit and will be right back.”

Less than a minute later, Caleb pulled up a chair to sit in front of the arm rest Nightwing was leaning against, the medical kit open in his lap. He’d also brought a glass of water that the dehydrated hero accepted gratefully.

Turning his head slightly towards him, Nightwing commented, “You’re pretty well equipped for a bachelor living in ‘Haven.”

“How d’you know I’m a bachelor?”, Caleb retorted with a raised eye brow, collecting everything he needed to treat Nightwing’s wound.

“Just a hunch”, Nightwing smirked.

Only Nightwing could be literally dying and still make a sly comment about his love life. Caleb refused to reward that audacity with an answer.

Instead, he moved closer to the sofa, looked at Nightwing's tight suit and inquired hesitantly, “Now, so how do I …?”

Assuming a more upright position and leaning slightly forward, Nightwing said, “There’s a zipper at the back of my neck. Just pull it down to my waist and I’ll do the rest.”

Caleb quickly found the zipper and did as instructed. With a grunt, Nightwing let go of his wound, clumsily slid his arms out of the sleeves of his suit and peeled off his gloves and the upper half of his armour which appeared to be all one connected piece, until it lay folded together in his lap.

Caleb couldn’t help but blush. The world’s sexiest superhero sat right in front of him on his couch, in a completely shirtless profile.

If only this wasn’t a life or death situation…

Clearing his throat, Caleb grabbed the bacterial wipes and announced, “This will probably sting quite a bit.”

“Don’t worry, Doc, I’ve had worse”, the hero grinned back weakly.

With that, Caleb went to work, first cleaning the wound and the surrounding skin, and then starting to carefully stitch it closed. Years as a biker and countless first aid courses meant that he was probably one of the most knowledgeable people in town to do so without a medical degree in terms of emergency assistance.

Nightwing could call himself lucky. What if he had broken into the apartment of someone who didn’t have the kit and skills that Caleb had? Or did the hero somehow know more about Caleb than he was letting on? At least Nightwing stayed true to his word and took Caleb’s treatment like a trooper, remaining still aside from the occasional wince.

Trying to kill the awkward silence that was building up around him as he was stitching, Caleb started a conversation.

“It’s, uhm, a shame about your suit.” It really was, the section that Nightwing had peeled off bearing a gaping hole where the hero had been stabbed in the shoulder.

“Oh, I’ve got a few of those”, he answered nonchalantly. “And Agent A will help me repair this one it in no time.”

“Wait, so you got a closet full of Nightwing suits?”, Caleb almost laughed.

“Kinda.”

“Must be some pretty sturdy leather if you fight crime in it every night.”

“Specifically designed for the purpose. You know anything about leather? I, uhm, noticed you’re wearing leather pants, too.” Caleb blushed again, looking at his leather pants in confusion. Why would a superhero like Nightwing who was barely alive notice his freaking outfit? Shouldn’t he have other concerns?

Caleb opted for a neutral reply. “Professional habit. I work for a company that produces biker gear. Not sure you’ve heard of it. Urban Knights?”

“Ain’t that the one that the Grayson kid is modelling for?”

“Sure is!”, Caleb answered, not sure which fact surprised him more: the fact that Nightwing somehow knew Urban Knights, or the fact that he knew Dick Grayson. Then again, Dick was kind of a local celebrity in ‘Haven and Gotham, so assuming that Nightwing also lived around here as a civilian, it would not be hard to come across Dick’s add campaign eventually or his picture in the papers.

“Well, maybe I should come by your shop sometime. Get an expert opinion on my suit and see if I can improve it at all.” There was that slightly sly smirk again.

“We’ll be happy to help you”, Caleb decided to smirk back this time.

Once he’d finished stitching the wound closed, Caleb put another plaster on the wound, just to be safe, and finally announced, “Okay, all patched up.”

With deep sigh and a relieved ‘thank you’, Nightwing leaned back against the arm rest, took another gulp of water, and Caleb got a closer look at the hero’s muscular torso. It was bruised all over, with barely an inch of skin left that wasn’t blue or purple.

Caleb gasped. “Fuck, what’s – is that all from tonight?!”

“I told you those guys were good”, Nightwing replied with a sad grin on his face.

“Anything broken?”

“Don’t think so. Just lots of bruises.

“Clearly. Hold on.” Caleb disappeared into the bathroom and returned a couple of minutes later with a wet sponge, a dry blanket, and an anti-pain ointment, along with a refilled glass of water.

Sitting down on the chair again, he carefully started washing Nightwing’s chest and stomach first, then towelling it dry. Afterwards, he spread ointment all over his upper body and began rubbing it in. The second Caleb’s fingers made contact with Nightwing’s bare chest, his heart skipped a beat. The hero’s muscles were warm and rock-solid, the hardest set of abs and pecs he had touched at least since his last threesome with Dick and Wally. Even covered in bruises, it was obvious that Nightwing had the firm musculature of a modern-day Adonis.

Attempting to get his breathing under control, Caleb realized that his accelerated heart beat wasn’t his only physical reaction to Nightwing’s chest. Squirming in his chair, he only noticed how the crotch of his leather pants was growing tight – or rather, even tighter than usual.

Caleb was so focussed on massaging Nightwing’s muscles that he looked up with a start when he suddenly heard a deep moan from the hero.

“Mmmm. Gotta tell you, Caleb, having your chest massaged by a blond hunk in leather pants really ain’t so bad, after all.”

Caleb couldn’t help but laugh. 5 minutes ago, Nightwing had been borderline dead. Now here he was, flirting with him, the guy who had just saved his life. This superhero really was one of a kind.

Let’s fight fire with fire then.

“Gotta yell you, Nightwing, having the world’s most thirsted-after superhero shirtless on your couch and calling you a hunk ain’t shabby, either.”

Now it was Nightwing’s turn to laugh. When the hero gently adjusted his position on the sofa, Caleb stole a quick glanze towards Nightwing’s waist. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear that Nightwing’s already impressive leather bulge looked even bigger than before.

Still, Caleb decided not to comment. Coming onto the hero right now would feel to him like taking advantage of his weakened condition. After all, Nightwing wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t been ambushed tonight. So instead, he grabbed the blanket from the other end of the sofa and wrapped it over the hero who looked closer to sleep with every second.

“Thank you”, Nightwing sighed, his gratitude visible on his face despite his mask.

“Of course”, Caleb smiled. “You should probably rest now.”

“You know”, Nightwing’s grin returned momentarily, “I’m sure I’d rest a whole let better if I got a good-night kiss first.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, barely suppressing another laugh.

“Well, usually I don’t kiss on first dates, but then I just remembered that we’ve actually met before.”

“We have?”, Nightwing’s grin vanished as soon as it had appeared, replaced by confusion and concern.

“It was a long time ago”, Caleb explained calmly. “You remember the hostage situation? At St Catherine’s High School? I guess you still went by Robin then?”

Nightwing stayed silent for a moment, frowning, then his head shot up and Caleb could all but see the epiphany in his widened eyes behind the white lenses.

“You were the kid who didn’t want to be let go without your friend!”

“Stella, yeah”, Caleb replied warmly. “You approached me after everything was over and called me brave. I’ll never forget it.”

“And I stand by it”, Nightwing said, a warm smile now adorning his face too.

“Ha, yeah, maybe”, Caleb deflected the praise sheepishly. “Anyway, sleep well, Nightwing. Good night.” Unable to stop himself, Caleb bent down and placed a brief gentle kiss on the hero’s lips, before he went over to the bedroom door and switched off the lights in the living-room.

In the bedroom, Caleb quickly stripped down to his boxer briefs, placed his clothes on a stool near the closet and slipped under the sheets. Unsurprisingly, sleep did not come easily that night after the most recent events. Knowing that there was a wounded superhero lying on the other side of the wall… And not just any superhero, but arguably the most attractive one of them all…

Caleb did not know what to think, how to think at all anymore. Why had Nightwing come to him of all people? When he didn’t know anything about Caleb to begin with?

Not that Caleb minded, in retrospect. Getting his hands onto Nightwing’s bruised body, massaging his abs until the hero was literally moaning was something that millions of people in the world would kill for, and he had gotten it for free.

At the thought of Nightwing’s abs, a spark in his lower body reminded Caleb that he still hadn’t fully softened yet from Nightwing’s treatment and likely would not any time soon if he stayed in this liminal state between flaccid and erect.

So to cut things short, Caleb closed his eyes, grabbed his boxer briefs underneath the sheets and took his mind back to the living-room couch and his fingers on Nightwing’s torso. Within just a few squeezes of his bulge, Caleb was completely hard – as hard as the abdominal muscles he had been massaging minutes ago, his horny mind reminded him.

That mental reminder was everything he needed. With a low moan, Caleb’s back arched upward, and he climaxed into his boxer briefs, imagining that the fingers on his bulge were not his own, but the leather-gloved hands of the hero next door.

With an exhausted sigh, Caleb sank back into the mattress, not caring that he’d need to clean the sheets tomorrow. He could already feel the cum in this underwear beginning to cling to his body.

If only it was clinging to the other body in my flat right now…

With that image in mind, Caleb finally fell into the merciful darkness of sleep.

***

The next morning, Caleb awoke with a deep headache and a confusing thought, somewhere between the haziness of sleep and the full consciousness of being awake: had he just dreamed that an injured Nightwing had shown up in his living-room last night, in need of medical assistance?

But then he spotted his discarded clothes on the stool. The white Henley, lying crumpled on top his folded leather pants, had plenty of blood stains across its side, stains he had obtained while carrying Nightwing across the room onto the couch.

So no dream, after all…

Thankfully, it was a Sunday, so taking his dear time would be no problem this morning. Stretching his muscular limbs, Caleb got out of the bed, walked over to the closet and got out some clean underwear and sweats. Stripping out of his soiled briefs – which almost stuck to his genitals like glue after sleeping in them and promptly landed in the laundry basket – Caleb sneaked into the bathroom, where he had a quick shower, got dressed and peaked his head out of the door into the living-room.

Light was flooding the bright but quiet apartment. Seeing that Nightwing was still sleeping like a stone, Caleb silently tiptoed his way into the kitchen, wanting to give the injured hero as much rest as possible after the beating he’d apparently taken last night.

Yet as soon as the coffee machine started to heat up, Caleb heard a distinct yawn from the living-room and, turning around, saw that the blanketed figure on the couch was moving.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Caleb said, “Hey!”

“Hey”, Nightwing murmured, with a sheepish, still half-asleep smile on his lips.

“I’m glad you’re still here”, Caleb confessed truthfully. “For whatever reason, I wasn’t sure you would be.” Indeed, a part of him had fully expected the couch to be empty when he woke.

“Naw, come on, man, I’d never ditch a first date like that”, the masked man on the couch grinned. “Besides, I’m in no condition to run right now, anyway”, he added more seriously.

“I was just about to make coffee. You want some?”, Caleb offered friendly.

“Probably not what I should be drinking right now, but fuck it, I almost died last night, so yeah, I’d love some, thanks.”

A couple minutes later, Caleb was pouring coffee into two mugs and asked over the shoulder, “Any milk or sugar?”

“Black, please”, came Nightwing’s response.

Before he could stop himself, Caleb poked, “Like your soul?”

“More like my suit, ha!”, Nightwing returned the joke.

“I'd always taken you for a milk and sugar kind of guy. As sweet as possible, you know?”

“You'd be surprised.”

With a laugh, Caleb moved to the couch, handed Nightwing his cup and sat down on the same chair that still stood in front of the couch.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you so much”, Nightwing sighed gratefully, cradling the hot cup like the Holy Grail. When he sat upright, the blanket fell forward, revealing the muscular torso that was still just as colourful as last night.

Caleb tried not to stare at it.

Caleb did not succeed.

“Ahhhh”, Nightwing exclaimed contentedly after his first big gulp of coffee.

“How do you feel?”, Caleb inquired tentatively.

“Alive”, the hero answered matter-of-factly. “Which is a lot better than when you found me.”

“I’m glad”, Caleb said, sipping at his own coffee, too. “Although I’m still trying to wrap my hand around one thing. Not the ‘you needing help’ part. That was pretty obvious. But the ‘you coming to me for help’ part.”

Nightwing took a long look at the cup in his hands, then he mumbled, “I just had a gut feeling, is all. All my other safe houses were too far away, so I came here.”

Caleb took a big swing of coffee to brace himself for what he was about to say next.

“I’m sorry, but I call bs on that. You don’t know me at all. For all you know, I could have been one of those bikers who beat you up last night. I could have just let you bleed out in the corner, or worse, rip off your mask and sell you out to the papers.”

Nightwing stared at him, his masked face unreadable. Finally, he spoke in a neutral voice. “But you didn’t.”

“No. Of course not”, Caleb admitted, more quietly.

“And I knew you wouldn’t.” The hints of a smile appeared on Nightwing’s face.

“But how? Why?” Caleb was getting exasperated.

“Because we met before”, Nightwing answered calmly.

Caleb paused. “Wait a second, tho, last night you didn’t remember the hostage taking at first, so –”

“I don’t mean the St Catherine’s case”, Nightwing interrupted him gently.

Oh.

Caleb took another gulp of coffee to ground himself. Nightwing followed suit. Then the hero said, “I met you before. In my other identity. Though, I didn’t recognize your face from St Catherine’s then.”

“Oh, so what you’re basically saying is that you know me, but I don’t know you”, Caleb pondered aloud, trying to make sense of Nightwing’s explanation.

“You do know me, Caleb, just not like this.” With a grin he added, “I don’t run around in a leather body suit and a mask 24/7.”

“A shame, really”, Caleb smirked, taking another sip of coffee. For once, Nightwing did not respond to his flirtation, but instead continued his explanation.

“And because of that, I knew last night that you’re a good guy and that I could trust you.”

Caleb let those words sink in. So Nightwing somehow knew him as a civilian and considered him a good guy, good enough to come to Caleb for help, but not good enough to trust him with his identity?

“I’m flattered, I really am, don’t get me wrong, but to be honest, isn’t that a bit unfair?”, Caleb spoke up, looking straight into the hero’s face. “I mean, apparently, you know everything there is to know about me, but I don’t know anything about you, other than that you were the first Robin. And apparently, you’ve been kind of deceiving me, too, haven’t you? First, you deceived me about the Nightwing thing when you apparently met me as a civilian, and then you deceived me last night about not knowing me.”

He hadn’t intended his words to come out as accusatory as they had, but he stood by them. Even though he was probably being a prick right now, Caleb couldn’t quite help but feel slightly used by Nightwing. Last night, he had saved the hero’s life. The least he deserved was a tiny bit of honesty in return.

“Caleb, you gotta believe me, it’s not as simple as that”, Nightwing sighed, not once taking his eyes off Caleb’s face. “A superhero’s secret identity is their greatest liability. It makes them more vulnerable than anything else in the world. Not just the hero themselves, but especially the innocent people they know and love. Every person that I reveal my identity to immediately gets a death mark put on their backs. If the Sharks knew that I were here, talking to you right now, I promise they would come for you next. Simply because they know that I care about you and that they can hurt me via hurting you. Revealing my identity to you would increase that risk a hundred times or worse. I never wanted to deceive you. I merely wanted to protect you. By keeping you out of my Nightwing business.”

Trying to keep his voice less offended this time, Caleb replied, “But like you just said, you are here right now, and you are talking to me, so don’t you think it’s a bit late to keep me out of your Nightwing business?”

“I guess so”, Nightwing shrugged. “Another thing I fucked up, huh?”, he added, looking down at his lap with a sad smile.

“No, that’s not what I meant!”, Caleb interjected immediately. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring the hero down mentally too, mere hours after he had almost died. “I mean that I can take of yourself. Your secret is safe with me, and I swear on my life that it will stay safe whoever comes knocking on my door.”

Nightwing looked up at him again, but this time with a dark and pained expression on his face.

“But the thing is you don’t know the kind of people who could come knocking on your door. These people are ruthless. Monstrous. They don’t even shy away from killing…”, his voice broke. “… teenage boys”, he finished in a whisper and looked aside, no longer able to bare Caleb’s eyes.

A shiver went down Caleb’s spin at the realization. Of course, he had heard about it. There had been reports in all the newspapers, but no official confirmation. Barely visiting Gotham these days, Caleb had never seen Batman’s sidekick in person, which had made the rumours less palatable to him. More abstract.

“So, the rumours are true?”, he inquired gingerly. “That Robin was…”

“…Murdered. Yeah. By the Joker”, Nightwing said in a bitter voice. When he looked back into Caleb’s eyes, a single tear rolled down from underneath his mask. Caleb had no idea what kind of relationship the two crimefighters must have had, one of them being the original Robin, the other his successor. But judging from the expression on Nightwing’s masked face right now, it had been a very special bond. In a less bitter tone, Nightwing added, “Batman took on a new Robin recently, and he’s doing well, but I just –”, his voice faltered. “I’m not sure I could handle another loss. Not again.”

The despair in Nightwing’s voice broke Caleb’s heart. Breathing in heavily, Caleb set down his cup on the table and instead grabbed Nightwing’s hands with his own. The hero looked up in surprise. Squeezing the hero’s hands, Caleb said, “Then that’s all the more reason why you should let me into your life, Nightwing. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I can help you. I want to help you. You put your life on the line every night to make Blüdhaven a better place, but you’re only human, too. If I can help you in any way, I will. Even if it’s just providing a safe house to you in the West End. I can’t force you into revealing yourself to me, and I never would. I understand all your concerns. But I just want you to know that I’m right here, and if it ever gets too much for you to handle alone, just know that you are not alone, with or without your mask.”

Finally, Caleb breathed out, feeling like his heart hadn’t beat a single time during that monologue. Had he spoken out of bounds? Had he overstepped the line? Had he just ruined Nightwing’s opinion of him as good and trustworthy?

The hero took a long, intense look at him. For more than a minute, both men stayed silent.

At last, Nightwing said, “Well, in that case…”

He gingerly slipped his right hand out of Caleb’s fingers, raising it towards the right edge of his domino mask which he began to pull.

“Wowowow!!!”, Caleb called out, suddenly very anxious, gesturing for the hero to stop. “Are you really sure about this? You just spent the last 10 minutes defending why you haven’t revealed yourself to me, and now all of a sudden, you want to? I don’t you to feel pressured about this!”

This time it was Nightwing who squeezed Caleb with the other hand still clasped by the blond man.

“I don’t feel pressured at all, trust me”, the hero smiled warmly. “But after that hell of a speech that you just gave, I changed my mind. I really want to do this, Caleb, no matter the risks. Plus, it will make explanations a bit easier, as you’ll see.”

So once again, Nightwing hooked his right hand under the edge of his mask and started to pull. Inch by inch, the black object detached itself from the hero’s face, until at last, the white lenses of Nightwing’s mask gave way to the sapphire blue eyes of Dick Grayson.

Instantly, all breath that Caleb had held in his lungs vacated his body and his mouth fell open, utterly bereft of any words.

“Hi Caleb”, the smiling handsome face before him said. “My name is Dick Grayson. I’m Nightwing.”

Dumbfounded, Caleb had no idea whether one minute or one year had passed by the time his speaking organs became functional again.

“Oh my god! This… this…”, he started, but found himself unable to produce anything remotely resembling cohesive syntax.

“Can’t be real? Doesn’t make any sense?”, Nightwing Dick offered with a grin to finish Caleb's sentence.

“Actually, it makes all the sense in the world”, Caleb thought out loud, as his brain started to connect the dots. Dick’s superhuman body, that flirtatious humour that resembled Nightwing’s slight cockiness… “You always were way too handsome in our leather clothes for just a random regular guy. Guess you had lots of training to strut around in leather at night.” The shock on Caleb’s face gradually transformed into surprised delight and amazement.

“Haha, I kinda did, yeah”, Dick laughed.

When Caleb failed to follow up his previous comment, Dick pointed out, “What's wrong? Haven’t seen you speechless very often, Cay.”

“No, it’s just so insane to think every time I talked to you at the store, I was actually talking to a goddamn superhero.” Suddenly his eyes widened, and his chiselled cheeks began to blush.

“Oh my god! I fucking slept with an actual superhero!”, he blurted out.

“Technically, you slept with two superheroes”, Dick corrected him slyly.

Caleb needed a moment to process what the black-haired man on his couch had just said.

“Wait a sec, are you telling me that Wally –”

“Was Kid Flash, yeah”, Dick explained with a bittersweet smile.

Kid Flash was Wally West.

Dick’s former boyfriend.

Dick’s late former boyfriend.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Dick, I didn’t want to bring him up, it’s just –”

“No, it’s all good”, Dick placated him, squeezing Caleb’s hand. “Saying his name out loud actually kinda helps, weirdly enough.”

Caleb needed a moment to compose himself, then he went on. “Sooo, if you’re Nightwing and Wally was Kid Flash…”, he looked closely at Dick, trying to ask as considerately as he possibly could, “…does that mean that Jason was Robin?”

“He was. My Little Wing”, Dick whispered, as another stray tear escaped his eyes.

That explained his expression earlier when Caleb had brought up Robin’s death. Nightwing and Robin had not only shared a superhero cape but also a family.

Not just fellow vigilantes.

Brothers.

“Which leaves Bruce Wayne as Batman, and the new kid as Robin”, Caleb concluded quietly, more to himself than to Dick. “What’s his name again?”

“Tim”, Dick answered promptly, the warmth in that one syllable alone expressing how much Dick already loved that boy. “Welcome to the family”, he half laughed, half sniffed.

As if sleepwalking, Caleb moved to the sofa to sit down next to Dick. With an exhausted sigh, he fell onto the couch and let his head fall onto backrest. Images of Nightwing, Robin, and Batman swirled in his head as he stared at the living-room ceiling.

After a couple of silent minutes, Caleb expressed his shock in the only way he could.

“Fuck me!”, he cursed.

Then, Caleb heard the head next to his speak with a wet laugh, “I have, it was great.”

Caleb guffawed. Seriously?! Dick was just crying about losing his little brother, and now he was making sex jokes? The man truly was giving Caleb emotional whiplash. Then again, thinking back to his own process of grieving his big brother, Caleb realized that maybe this was Dick’s mode of coping with all the trauma in his life.

Losing both parents as a young boy.

Losing your boyfriend and little brother as an adult in a matter of months.

Putting yourself in mortal danger almost every night.

Perhaps, laughing at the world and at himself was Dick’s way of keeping himself from crying about it, instead. And considering everything he had gone through at his young age, Caleb could not blame Dick for that.

Sure enough, when he eventually looked to his right, Caleb was met by Dick Grayson’s most irresistible grin.

Unable to stop himself, Caleb lightly rammed his elbow into Dick’s ribs.

“Ouch!”, he protested, grabbing the point of attack and distorting his face in mock outrage. “That’s not you treat an invalid.”

“You’re not invalid if you can still make bad sex puns”, Caleb shot back with an arched eyebrow.

“You still have a lot to learn about the great Nightwing, young Padawan”, Dick orated, gingerly padding Caleb’s knee. “Like how my capacity for bad puns is completely unrelated to my physical condition.”

“Is that right?”, Caleb drawled. “And does that only pertain to punning about sex or also the real deal?”

“Well, why don’t you give me a kiss and find out?”, Dick drawled right back at him.

Taking that as an invitation, Calen repositioned himself to sit down atop Dick’s lap and quickly pressed their mouths together. After a few seconds, Caleb felt a spark of energy shoot through both of their bulges and as if on autopilot, he started grinding into the other man, the cotton of his sweatpants against the leather of Nightwing’s lower suit.

Eventually, though, a pained “Urgh” from Dick’s mouth made Caleb stop and pull away.

“You’re alright?”, he asked immediately, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine”, Dick panted, “I guess that knife last night went in deeper that I remembered.”

Caleb placed another quick peck on Dick’s mouth, then spoke in a low, suggestive tone, “I promise, once you’re properly healed, I’ll stick something into you that is a lot nicer than a knife.”

“I should hope so”, Dick responded, licking his lower lip, before both men erupted into laughter at the awful hilarity of their poor attempts at talking dirty.

Caleb dismounted Dick – trying to not to laugh at verbalising those words in his head – and sat down next to him again.

After a beat of silence, the blond man started, “Sooo, what now? You’ll tell Batman that I … know?” He couldn’t imagine the Dark Knight being very happy about Dick revealing his secret identity to anybody, no matter how trustworthy. Hopefully, Caleb wouldn’t receive a surprise nocturnal visit from the Caped Crusader to admonish him.

“It’ll stay between us for now”, Dick decided, looking straight ahead. “Of course, there’s no way keeping it a secret from him forever, but we’re not on the best of terms since… since Jason. We're working on it, and it's getting better, but I'd rather wait for a better moment to deliver the good news.”

“But what about right now?”, Caleb inquired, searching for Dick’s eyes. “Will you stay here? You don’t think of going out again tonight with a fresh stab wound in your shoulder, are you?”

“A perfectly stitched-up stab wound”, Dick argued sheepishly, very intentionally avoiding Caleb’s stare.

“Dick! Are you serious? Have you seen yourself? You’re black and blue, and I’m not talking about the suit. If these guys really are as good as you say, then you need to be in your best shape to handle them. You need a break to heal and recover.” After a beat, he added, “Not just physically.”

“But I can’t just take two weeks off like that. Blüdhaven needs me”, Dick attempted to protest.

“Speaking for the people of Blüdhaven, we’d rather have two weeks without Nightwing than losing Nightwing forever”, Caleb reasoned. “Which is where you were pretty much headed last night, as you said yourself.” With a smirk he added, “All that black and blue looks better on your suit than on your abs, Hunk Wonder.”

“You think so?”, Dick smirked back inquisitively.

“I do”, Caleb answered. Pausing a few seconds, he continued, “and I also think that you don’t to have to act happy and upbeat all the time, Dick. I know what you’ve been through. You don’t have to put up an act in front of me. If cracking a joke helps you deal with that, then by all means, crack away. But just know that you don’t have hide anything from me, happy or sad. I think we just established that we are past the point of masks, and that includes emotional masks, too.”

Dick’s smirk waned and he fell silent for a couple of minutes, clearly lost in thoughts. Eventually, his voice came back, low but pensive and he looked at Caleb, his blue eyes open and honest. “It’s not an act when I crack jokes and make some innuendos, you know? I don’t supress or deny anything, either. I even go to therapy and work on my depression head-on. It took me months to even cry about Jason, you know? It’s just that I so rarely get the chance to laugh and not feel down these days that I’m grabbing every opportunity I get. You have no idea how often I can't even fall asleep and just ride around town at night. So maybe you’re right. Maybe … I could still use a little break from Nightwing. At least until my shoulder’s fully healed.”

Caleb sighed in relief, glad that he had finally beaten some sense into the brain of this lovable self-sacrificing fool of a man.

Giving Dick’s knee another squeeze, Caleb said, “Thank you, Dick, I really believe it will do you good, and by that me too. And if you ever can't sleep, just give me a call, okay?"

Dick smiled at him in silent gratitude.

"Now why don’t you go into my bedroom and put on some clean clothes, and I’ll whip up a nice little breakfast for us?”

Now, Dick’s confessional honesty turned back into his flirtatious cockiness. “Is that your very complicated way of telling me to get naked?”

“If I see something I haven’ seen before, I’ll throw a dollar at it”, Caleb deadpanned.

“Please do”, Dick smirked. “It’s not like I was adopted by a billionaire or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Caleb declined to comment on that; instead, he got up and moved into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Looking back over his shoulder into the living-room, he saw that not only had Dick gotten up, too. In the few seconds, he had also somehow stripped out of the rest of his Nightwing suit and was now strolling towards the bedroom practically naked, his body covered in nothing but a grey pair of boxer briefs. The Nightwing suit lay discarded on the floor in front of the couch.

Exhaling affectionately, Caleb went to the couch and picked it up. Holding the body suit this close, he saw for the first time how crusted in red the leather was and how much blood his friend had to have lost last night.

It’s a miracle you survived at all, Dick, Caleb admitted silently. Still you don’t keep a Grayson down for long. Gripping the leather in his hand, Caleb vowed that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Dick Grayson would spread his wings again and soar higher than ever before.

Chapter Text

“Master Damian, I daresay that tie of yours lies perfectly straight. Even without your excessive fidgeting.”

Damian paled under the raised eyebrow of Alfred Pennyworth, pointedly directed at him through the rear-view mirror of the limousine they were currently waiting in, and let go of his black tie.

“My apologies, Pennyworth”, Damian mumbled lowly from the backseat, “I just want to look my best for Father’s event this evening”.

The annual charity gala of Wayne Enterprises was happening tonight, and even though Damian had attended the event several times before, he had never done so as Bruce Wayne’s oldest and only son. Dick and Jason were still on their holiday in Europe, while Tim was representing their father’s company on an important business trip on the other side of the country. This left Damian as the only Wayne son to support the family patriarch at his annual gala, and while this was more than fitting given Damian’s 18^th birthday just a couple of months ago, it was a responsibility that he really could have done without. Damian hated being in the limelight even at the best of times which usually included warm, reassuring side hugs from one Dick Grayson, so without those hugs to keep him going, Damian had no idea how he was supposed to make it through the night. Unsurprisingly then, as they were waiting for Bruce to join them and begin the drive from Wayne Manor to the Gotham Ritz, Damian’s self-consciousness grew by the second.

The butler’s expression in the driver’s seat softened at the sight of his youngest charge and his visible unease as he said, “Young Sir, if there’s a single eighteen-year-old at tonight event who’s more immaculately styled and dressed than yourself, then I’m no longer the butler of the most eligible bachelor in the world.”

An embarrassed smile blossomed on Damian’s face as he looked up to meet the kind eyes of the man who was more grandfather than servant to him; certainly more grandfather than his actual biological grandfather. Objectively speaking, Damian knew that he looked good. His crimson silk suit was made to measure and perfectly accentuated not only the tanned tone of his skin, but also a muscular body that had been athletically toned from years of crime-fighting. Meanwhile his typically unruly dark hair lay flawlessly slicked back on his head, adding to his appearance of a young entrepreneur. Still, despite his famously bossy persona, Damian often struggled to see his own visual appeal and needed reminders by others like Alfred in order not to drown in his own inferiority complex. After all, how could you not feel like an ugly duckling if your big brother (and second father figure) was none other than Dick Grayson who’d been voted the sexiest man alive more times than the Joker had broken out of Arkham?

To make Damian’s self-doubts even worse, that very second his father stepped through the open door of the limousine and took a seat opposite to his son. As always, Bruce Wayne struck a stunning figure in a black three-piece suit and could have easily passed for a Hugo Boss model or, more appropriately, its CEO.

“Ready for the big show, Dames?”, his father smiled expectantly. “You must be really excited! Just turned 18, and now you’re already my second-in-command tonight.”

“Hardly”, Damian grumbled in response, while Alfred ignited the engine and drove off without the need of any further instructions. “Loath as I am to suggest it, but the presences of Grayson, Todd and even Drake might have made this excruciating event somewhat less insufferable.”

“Huh”, Bruce grinned, looking right through Damian’s pompous language. “Damian Wayne admitting that he misses his brothers. May wonders never cease.”

“If you tell them, I will never attend a single of your galas ever again”, he retorted defiantly, before staring out of the window again, “blood son or not”.

“My lips are sealed”, Bruce winked. “Besides, I’m sure the gala will still be fun and interesting for you. After all, the Kents will be there.”

“WHAT?!”, Damian exclaimed suddenly, his head shooting back to look at his father with a swiftness that could be mistaken for some undetected speed force. “I thought they were all off-planet on a League mission!”

“Clark and Conner are, yes”, Bruce answered, “but Jon’s still here and will be coming along together with Lois.”

The colour drained from Damian’s face as he heard these words, transforming his father’s expression from one of excitement into one of concern. “Aren’t you happy about this? I thought Jon’s your best friend.”

Yes and no, Damian wanted to explain but could not find the words. For how could you tell your father that you secretly wanted your best friend to be more than just your best friend?

Ever since Damian had hit puberty, he had known that he was completely, helplessly, hopelessly in love with Jonathan Samuel Kent. At first, he had not quite understood the butterfly-esque sensation in his stomach whenever he saw the dark mop of hair that was his best friend and the adorable dimples on his perpetually cheerful cheeks. But then one day, Damian had noticed how Tim’s face always lit up every time he met up with Conner, and then it all fell into place. The feelings that Tim and Conner had for each other – the ones that Dick and Jason shared between themselves, too – that’s what Damian was feeling for Jon. Damian’s brothers had been in love for years, and now Damian knew that he was too, and with his best childhood friend of all people.

Only that his upbringing under his abusive grandfather and the League of Shadows made it impossible for Damian to openly admit those feelings to his best friend and accept himself as being anything other than straight. It took Damian years of watching his gay brothers be perfectly happy and a very private conversation with Dick one rainy night to come to terms with his own sexuality. Alas, though, just when Damian at long last felt ready to take the bold step and confess his crush towards Jon, the latter came to him all excited and giddy to introduce his boyfriend Jay, and Damian’s romantic world had come crashing to the ground. Imploding just like the home planet of Jon’s father.

It was bad enough for Damian that Jon was in a relationship with somebody that wasn’t him. It was even worse to find out that this somebody was actually nice and impossible for Damian to hate, no matter how hard he tried – and he sure did try, because for Damian Wayne not to despise somebody with PINK hair was speaking volumes. After all, Jay made Jon happy, so how could he possibly hate somebody who made the boy he loved happy?

The relationship had, however, taken a slight toll on Damian and Jon’s friendship. Damian had grown more distant from his former best friend, texting him fewer and fewer times and finally even muting him altogether on Instagram. Damian still loved him, and that was exactly what made it so unbearable for Damian to just stand by and watch as Jon was loving somebody else.

Damian had no idea how much of this had found its way towards his father. Dick, who was the only one to whom Damian had confessed all this, had sworn secrecy on pain of death and a life-long prohibition of cereals, and their bond was far too special for the older man to betray Damian like that anyway. Then again, Bruce was not called the world’s greatest detective for nothing, so stranger things could happen than for the Batman to uncover the secret love life of his youngest son.

“He is”, Damian answered finally, after a long pause. “We’ve just… I’ve somewhat lost touch with him recently.”

Bruce gave Damian a long, indecipherable look, before saying, “And could that have possibly anything to do with Jon having a boyfriend?”

Damian intently looked at the tightly gripped hands in his lap while he whispered under his breath, “Perhaps”, more to himself than to his dad. He saw no reason to make a secret out of his sexuality any longer. What did he have to fear? His grandfather was on the far side of the planet, and all his brothers had proudly proven to be as gay as the night is dark, so what’s another gay Boy Wonder anyway?

Another pause.

“Well then perhaps”, Bruce spoke on at last, “you might be interested to hear to Jon and Jay broke up.”

“Excuse me?!”, Damian suddenly blurted out in renewed shock.

The barest hint of a smile could be read underneath Bruce’s poker face. “Yes, Lois told me about it. Apparently, they broke up a few weeks ago because Jay moved away for college. It was all amicable. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it, though. I’m sure Jon must have posted something online on the matter.”

“I, uhm, I muted him a while back”, Damian stammered, still in disbelief at his father’s revelation.

Jon is … single again???

Could this mean that … I might have … another chance with him after all?

“Well in either case”, Bruce went on, his expression now turning increasingly smug, “why don’t you say hi to Jonathan tonight and express how sad you are for him about his breakup? I’m sure he’ll be glad to receive your thoughts and condolences.”

Damian might have paid attention to the knowing wink in his father’s eye – if he had not been so preoccupied gazing longingly out of the window and smiling through the blushing redness on his cheeks.

***

Half an hour later, Damian’s puppy dog smile had been replaced by his trademark scowl again as he faced the army of reporters and photographers who took shots of all the attendees walking across the red carpet into the Gotham Ritz. Damian may have learned how to murder somebody before he could speak, but right now, he’d rather fight any supervillain in the world than having to spend a second longer in the storm of flash lights, especially once his father stepped aside and left the current Robin alone against the hungry wolfs.

Once inside the elaborately decorated venue, Damian let out a sigh of relief, but was quickly separated from his father once more, who was immediately pulled away by what Damian suspected to be some important business partners. Standing on his own, Damian let his eyes wander across the crowded ball room of the Gotham Ritz. At the far end of the hall, he spotted Lois Lane who was dressed in an elegant black gown and currently spoke to an elderly gentleman in a tux.

If Lois is already here, this means to Jon has to be around, too, Damian thought distractedly – just when the cheerful sound of an all-too-familiar voice behind his back caught him dangerously off guard.

“Dami! You’re here! I’m so glad to finally see you again!”

Feeling his stomach plummet all the way down into the basement of the high tower, Damian slowly turned on the spot until he finally came face to face with the one person he had been dying dreading to see more than any other tonight.

Jonathan Samuel Kent.

He looked positively radiant. The eyes and smile of the eighteen-year-old Kryptonian beamed at the sight of his best friend. In contrast to Damian’s stern business hair, Jon’s dark bangs were styled in a tousled wet look as if he’d come right over from the beach, and it absolutely did not make Damian want to run his hands through it to ruffle it some more. His broad-shouldered body was dressed in a form-fitting white dress shirt that had its sleeves rolled up and its top buttons left open to tease the defined pectoral muscles that Jon was sporting underneath.

Damian, who had not seen his best friend in months, was so dazzled by Jon’s smile and his upper body that it took him several seconds to notice the rest of his friend’s appearance, yet when he finally did, Damian vaguely sensed his heart skip several beats.

Jon’s white shirt was tucked into leather pants. Skin-tight black leather pants that looked like someone had poured a hot black liquid over Jon and the material had simply solidified into a second skin on his muscular legs. The outfit was rounded up by an elegant pair of black leather loafers that made Jon look like a bona fide prince on a night out.

Damian was struck speechless – and simultaneously became all too aware of the heat that was rising in his face. When Jon promptly wrapped his arms around the ever so slightly smaller boy and pressed their two bodies briefly together, that same heat was beginning to flood into Damian’s groin too, and the latter boy sent out a silent prayer that his steely self-control as Robin may not fail him tonight. The sensation of their bodies squeezed tightly together, paired with Jon’s strikingly masculine fragrance engulfing Damian’s overwhelmed senses, did not make that any easier.

Fortunately, Jon pulled away after a second, but unfortunately, he kept his strong hands on Damian’s shoulder, adding more oil with each second of contact to the flame between the Boy Wonder’s rather shaky legs.

“You look awesome, Dami!”, Jon cheered excitedly at the sight of his friend, seemingly ignorant of the effect that he was having on him.

“Thanks, Kent”, Damian replied awkwardly, still sticking to his best friend’s last name even after knowing him for years, “you, uhm, too”. And before he could stop himself, he heard his traitorous tongue add, “especially your pants”.

“You think so?!” If possible, Jon’s smile grew even wider as he let go of Damian’s shoulder and turned around to give his friend a full display of the eye-catching trousers, including the tightly accentuated backside which elicited a gulp from the furiously blushing Boy Wonder. “It’s from the new collection of Urban Knights, the company that Dick is always modelling for. Urban Gents, they call it, I think. Less biker style, more formal wear, but still all about leather. Conner took me to their store in Blüdhaven a few weeks ago and I instantly fell in love with these. They just look and feel so great.” The slap that Jon gave his leather-clad thighs that very second all but sent a shockwave into Damian’s groin. Meeting his friend’s nervous gaze, Jon added apologetically, “I hope you don’t hate me for this, Dami. Wearing leather, I mean. I know how protective you are about animals.”

“I, uhm”, Damian struggled to speak, “I can still appreciate the, uhm, aesthetic qualities of these trousers, Kent.” Especially on you, he wanted to add, but for once could stop himself before it was too late.

“Thanks, Dami, I’m glad, then!”, Jon answered in honest relief. “And hey, I think Dick and Jay are real close with the owner of the company, Caleb. Maybe they can convince him to create some special faux leather pieces for you too. I’m sure you’d look great in leather, too, Dami.”

Did Damian start hallucinating things, or did Jon just wink at him when suggesting that? Or was that just part of Damian’s momentary fever dream of imagining himself in Jon’s own leather pants? A dream that did absolutely nothing to cool down the rising heat inside Damian’s rather form-fitting suit trousers.

Whatever it was, it was luckily brought to an end by Bruce and Lois coming over to them and exchanging hearty welcomes. None of them seemed to take any note of the sexual havoc that Jon, or more specifically, Jon’s trousers were wrecking in Damian’s body right now, but Damian had no idea for how much longer he could count on that. So far, Damian had been relatively successful in supressing his state of arousal at the sight of Jon’s leather-clad legs, but the longer he stayed in close proximity to his oblivious Kryptonian friend, the harder more difficult that job would become.

Unfortunately for Damian though, the universe – or rather the event manager and Bruce – had apparently decided to conspire against him that night by seating Damian right next to Jon at the dinner table, with Bruce sitting left of his son. Lucius Fox and his charming wife completed the group of six – not that Damian took any notice of his other neighbours. Once placed next to Jon, all he could, no, all he had to focus on was deep breathing in order to somehow get through this night literately and figuratively uns(p)oiled.

Knowing that he could not allow this situation to grow any more awkward than it already had, Damian attempted to start a conversation with Jon over the appetisers.

“So, I, uhm, heard, that you and Nakamura, uhm, sort of broke up?”

Get it together, Wayne, Damian silently chastised himself, the Blood Son of the Bat does not stammer!!!

“Oh? Yeah”, Jon replied nonchalantly like it was no big deal at all. “Jay wanted to move to Coast City to study journalism. At first, we talked a bit about whether we should try a long-distance relationship but we quickly agreed that neither of us really wanted that, so we ended things on friendly terms.”

So it was true then. Jon and Jay really had broken up, and from his own description, it had not been a very dramatic break-up either. So did that mean that Jon was open to dating again?

“Aaand”, Damian started tentatively, “have you been seeing anyone new since then?”

“Not really”, Jon said between munches, “but I do have my eyes on somebody”. Jon suddenly looked at Damian with a crooked grin that Damian, despite years of investigative experience, failed to decipher. So instead, he just asked, “And do you think that person also has their eyes on you?”

“Definitely. In fact, they have their eyes on me this very moment.”

Damian instantly paled and tore his eyes away from Jon who merely let out a little snigger.

Could it be that Jon may not be as oblivious as Damian had suspected? For years, Jon had always been the more naïve and innocent out of the two Supersons, a child in the body of a superhero; but then once they’d hit puberty, Jon had definitely overtaken Damian in embracing his sexuality and in maturing from a boy into a young man who felt confident in his skin and his desires.

Perks of growing up in a family that was not marked by unspeakable trauma, Damian had sometimes speculated. But now, with all that playful teasing, a new facet of Jonathan Kent was coming to light in Damian’s mind. Had Jon known about Damian’s unacknowledged feelings for him all along? And did he now see his break-up from Jay as the opportunity to finally act on them and lure Damian out of the closet?

Could Jonathan Kent possibly feel for me as I do for him?

For a while, Jon let Damian ruminate these questions in blessed silence. Yet about halfway through the main course, Damian’s reprieve came to an end when he felt Jon casually spreading his legs and brushing his left knee and thigh against Damian’s right. Sensing the smoothness of Jon’s leather against the silk of his own suit trousers, Damian’s already warm legs started to heat up even more. Jon, meanwhile, made no sign of removing his knee and instead kept their legs right next to one another, touching gingerly.

Deciding that one piece of cutlery was more than sufficient for his main course, Damian removed his right hand underneath the table cloth and let it rest on his thigh, in the hopes of keeping his body under control again. Yet as if acting on autopilot, instead of remaining on his own thigh, Damian noticed his hand inch slowly but surely closer towards Jon’s leg, until the tip of his little finger could feel the smooth skin of Jon’s leather trousers.

One finger became two, two became three, and before Damian knew what he was doing, his entire right hand was palming Jon’s leather-clad thigh. Jon’s face betrayed no sign of the unexpected contact and the beneath-the-table-action between him and Damian, although Damian could have sworn that Jon’s smile broadened ever so slightly when the last of Damian’s five fingers had found its way over to the Kryptonian’s leg.

For a moment, Damian just kept his hand resting on Jon’s thigh, partly because he wanted to see if it would elicit any reaction from his super-powered best friend – to Damian’s annoyance, it did not – and partly to cope with his own reaction. Which was an increasingly irrepressible swelling between Damian’s legs, the longer his hand stayed in touch with Jon’s leather-clad thigh. As much as he was all for protecting animals, a visceral part deep inside of Damian could not help but get innately turned on by the sensation of warm leather against the palm of his hand hand.

In spite of his own state of arousal, though, Damian ultimately could not stop himself from gently pushing his hand further up Jon’s thigh. Up and up his hand moved, caressing the supple material of the trousers in delicious slowness. Once he’d reached Jon’s slim hip bone, Damian let his hand smoothly glide back down again, a motion that soon turned into a rubbing rhythm of Jon’s thigh. The Kryptonian kept up his composed façade, although Damian did note that the usually so talkative lips of the young man now remained suspiciously closed and pressed together.

Almost as if trying to hold back a moan building up behind them.

Let’s see if we can’t make you sing, Supey, Damian mused cheekily, then.

The next time Damian’s hand reached the upper end of Jon’s thigh, it did not inch back down again, but instead scootched over towards Jon’s crotch, where it cupped the substantial mount that was bulging between his legs. This time Jon did have to bite his lower lip to supress the moan that was nevertheless all but audible to Damian’s attentive ears. Damian, meanwhile, had to fight strong moans of his own. The touch of Jon’s bulge in his hand was downright incendiary, functioning like a direct transfer of sexual heat to his own genitals. The leather of the trousers was heated, skin-tight, and rather thin, making the swelling erection of Damian’s friend/crush perfectly tangible to his groping fingertips. Damian could all but feel Jon throb and pulse excitedly beneath his palm, the only thing separating Damian’s hand from Jon’s surging boner being the thin layer of Jon’s leather trousers and some barely existent underwear. Damian could hardly imagine how Jon had to feel right now, not only wearing tight leather pants, but effectively on the verge of being rubbed off through his pants under the sole protection of the overhanging table cloth.

A feeling that I must definitely experience myself one day, Damian made a vow right then and there.

After a few seconds of just cupping Jon’s bulge, Damian decided it was time to take it to the next level and find out just how resilient Kryptonian twinks truly were. So, the next moment, without warning, he gave Jon’s bulge a tight squeeze.

Much to Damian’s delight, the effect on Jon this time was as immediate as it was overt. His eyes widening, Jon once more bit his lip and gripped the table cloth like a sexual lifeline. Most importantly, however, his legs instinctively widened a little bit further and his hips lightly swayed towards Damian’s squeezing hand, as if to make the pressure on Jon’s bulge even more intense.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”, Lois interjected then from her conversation with Lucius’s wife.

“No, Mom, all good”, Jon smiled back as best he could, his voice as cheerful as always, but Damian could see the effort behind his blindingly white teeth as clear as day There were even droplets of sweat gathering on his forehead, as if Damian’s hand job was having the same effect on Jon as a piece of Kryptonite. The next second, Damian leaned in closer to Jon so that only the latter could hear him. “I guess not all parts of you are made of steel, are they, Kent? Although you do seem to be getting quite steely down there.”

“What’s your deal?”, Jon whispered back, in equal amounts of excitement and confusion. “You wanna give me a hand job under the table and make me shoot my load right here?”

Damian leaned in even closer for his reply.

“That’s what you get for flaunting those pants in front of me, Kent”.

On cue, then, Damian started giving Jon’s leather-clad bulge a thorough message, and from the way that Jon’s hips were grinding into Damian’s touch, the Kryptonian had completely abandoned any hopes of resisting the Boy Wonder’s skilful manipulations. Not that said Boy Wonder was faring much better himself. By the time that deserts were served a few minutes later, the current Robin was just as erect in his suit trousers as the leather-clad Superboy that he was secretly rubbing off.

A part of Damian was disappointed that Jon was not reciprocating the gesture to Damian, but then again, the Kryptonian boy was probably too busy fighting his own throbbing erection than to worry about somebody else’s.

Damian was still a virgin, but he doubted that anything could ever be more erorically and sexually thrilling than secretly rubbing off his best friend through his leather pants and watching his face as he was fighting a losing battle against his increasingly irresistible state of arousal.

A state of arousal caused by me, Damian mused proudly, giving Jon’s tenting leather bulge a squeeze so powerful than his Kryptonian crush nearly knocked over his glass of water.

As the desert drew to a close, both boys were now squirming so restlessly in their seats and humming in barely repressible sexual heat that Damian was surprised nobody else at the table had made any comments. There was no way that neither Bruce Wayne, the world’s greatest detective, nor Lois Lane, the world’s greatest investigative journalist, had noticed how unabashedly horny both of their sons had grown in front of (and beneath) their very eyes. Underneath the sweaty palm of his massaging right hand, Damian could even sense the tell-tale stickiness of precum leaking through the leather of Jon’s trousers, which meant that the boy, much like Damian himself, had to be mere seconds away from the edge.

What to do? Give Jon another squeeze and make him explode in his leather pants? And thereby bring myself off too? Risking that our depravity gets exposed?

Or withholding and saving the joy of my first climax for later?

Deciding that public orgams at his father’s gala may not make for the best headlines, though, Damian reluctantly ceased his massaging but kept his firm grip on Jon’s leaking boner. Jon himself exhaled in exhausted relief and looked to his left at Damian, lips and cheeks still heavily flushed at the almost-orgasm. He waited a few seconds to catch his breath before whispering, “If you’re so eager to explore my leather pants, why don’t we do this somewhere more private?” An almost childlike eagerness was gleaming in his eyes, reminding Damian of their old days fighting crime together as the Supersons.

“Somewhere private like the rest rooms on the top floor that’s currently closed for renovations?”

Jon could not suppress a little snigger at Damian’s precise knowledge of the location – like father, like son –  and then whispered on, “Sounds private enough to me”.

“Good”, Damian replied lowly, “but we’ll have to wait until after Father’s speech, though.”

“No worries”, Jon grinned and, nudging his head towards the tablecloth covering both of their erections, joked, “we probably need some time to cool down, anyway. Once up there, though, you’ll have all the time in the world to explore my leathers, Bird Boy.” Placing his own hands on Damian’s right, he gave their hands and his bulge an extra squeeze and added, “And everything underneath.”

Chapter Text

“Mom!”, Jon called out from his bed room as he buttoned up his white dress shirt, leaving the top button open and rolling up the sleeves, and stared sceptically at his reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you think that this a bit … I dunno … risqué? I mean, this is Mister Wayne’s annual charity gala event, after all, and I don’t want Batman himself to get mad at me!”

It wasn’t so much his white dress shirt that he was worried about – although it did cling to his toned torso pretty snugly. Rather, it was the fact that the shirt was currently tucked into a pair a black leather trousers which were so tight that they hugged his legs almost like a second skin, adding to the extravagant vibe of his tousled wet-hair look.

Conner had convinced Jon to buy the pants in the first place when he had taken his little brother to Urban Knights a few weeks ago after his break-up from Jay in order to – in Conner’s own words – “get your gay groove back on”. Jon and Jay had split on friendly terms, with Jay wanting to move to the west coast for college and Jon preferring to stay with his family in Metropolis, but he’d still been sad that his first real relationship had come to an end. Yet Conner being the trooper of a big bro that he was, had not let Jon mope in heartbreak for long and instead had taken him to a biker clothing store in Blüdhaven that was apparently so great that they’d hired none other than Dick Grayson to model their clothing. Right on time, the company had brought out a collection of more formal leather wear called ‘Urban Gents’ which was less about protecting you at highspeed on your motorbike and more about making you look both edgy and smart at fancy events. “One night out in these bad boys”, Conner had predicted boldly when he’d picked out a pair of black leather pants for Jon, “and you won’t even remember Jay’s name”.

Well, Conner’s correction had been pretty spot on. The following Saturday, Jon had gone clubbing with a few of his friends from his school wearing his brand-new leather trousers, and as the night went on, the 18-year-old Kryptonian lost count of the number of people who made a move on him. The pants seemed to turn him into a sexual magnet, and suddenly everybody wanted to get a piece of the black-haired hunk with the million-dollar-smile and the drool-worthy, leather-clad thighs.

Yet, Jon, thanks to his conscientious and virtuous upbringing in the Kent household, had kept his hands off all of them. Grinding on the dance floor had been the furthest that he had dared to go. Even in his relationship with Jay, he had not had sex yet. Most people would find it hard, if not impossible, to believe that an 18-year-old like Jon who arguably looked like sex on legs – especially in leather – was still a virgin, and yet there he has, the hottest boy on the east coast without a boyfriend or any sexual experience whatsoever.

Naturally, then, when it had come to selecting his outfit for the annual charity gala of Wayne Enterprises, the society event of the year, Jon had had no choice but to go with his favourite new pants and a classy white dress shirt. Members of the Kent family had been attending the gala for years, and since Clark and Con would be off-world on a League mission, this year the task fell into Lois’s and Jon’s hands. Neither of them really minded, though. Lois was always happy to catch up with her old friend Bruce, and as for Jon …. Well, Jon was always more than happy to be around the Waynes…

Especially the youngest Wayne…

Jon’s relationship to Damian has always been a weird one. Initially, Jon had been dead certain that the boy, who was the same age as Jon himself, hated him with every fibre of his being, based on the number of verbal daggers Damian would throw at Jon every time they interacted. It took Jon a good while to learn that this was nothing personal against him, but rather Damian’s default behaviour towards pretty much everyone that wasn’t Dick Grayson or Alfred Pennyworth. Especially once Jon and Damian started to work together on missions, the youngest Robin began to slowly if begrudgingly tolerate his superpowered peer.

One of the many perks that Jon’s Kryptonian powers brought with them was that they gave him a sense of bodily perception far beyond that of a regular human being. While he did not think much of this ability at first, that definitely started to change once him and Damian hit puberty. All of a sudden, Jon, who against all odds had grown into Damian’s best friend after all, got a feeling that there might in fact be something more personal in Damian’s behaviour towards Jon – although not the kind of personal that Jon had originally suspected. It had all started when Jon was around 14 and had first noted how Damian’s heart beat would accelerate ever so slightly every time Jon would enter the room.

The true epiphany, however, had come a year later when Jon had ditched his old Superboy outfit – a Super-themed loose-fitted long sleeve and denim jeans – for a form-fitting Spandex outfit close in design to his dad’s suit. Jon could still remember how furiously Damian had blushed when he had accidentally run into Jon wearing his new suit at the Titans Tower. Contrary to what many people believed, Jon was not quite as naïve and innocent as he seemed, not even on matters of sex. He knew what happened to human as well as Kryptonian bodies when they got aroused, and well – let’s say there could only be one reason for the sudden swelling and gathering of blood between Damian legs at the sight of Jon in his suit.

Who knows how he’d react, Jon wondered, checking his profile, especially the way that the leather accentuated his thighs and his butt cheeks, if he saw me like this. Jon sighed wistfully. At least people will stop thinking of me as an innocent little boy when they see me in leather pants…

When Jon had finally began dating Jay at age 16 and Damian promptly started ghosting him beyond their shared missions, the case was officially settled: Damian definitely was in love with Jon, no doubts about it. Which begged the question: Was Jon also in love with Damian? That Jon felt strongly about Bruce Wayne’s son was out of the question. Damian was so many things to him: a friend, a partner – even a lover? As happy as Jon had been in his relationship with Jay, the question of Damian had kept haunting him, so that now that he was single again, he couldn’t help but wonder: will Damian still have me? Or did Jon blow his chances when he first kissed Jay two years ago? Did Damian even know about Jon’s break-up, considering that he seemed to have stopped any and all contact with him?

Jon’s thought about Damian took a halt when his mom, already dressed to the nines in a gorgeous black gown, swept into the room and took a quick look at her son. “Darling, this is Bruce Wayne we’re talking about”, she said, stepping closer and laying her hands soothingly on Jon’s shoulder, “the man who raised Dick freaking Grayson, model extraordinaire. I highly doubt he’ll have a problem with you walking the red carpet in leather trousers. And if he does, it’s only because you’re so handsome that you’ll steal everybody’s spot light.” Lois Lane squeezed his shoulders affectionately and gave him one of her conspiratorial winks that never failed to put him at ease. “Thanks, Mom!”, Jon smiled back at her, hoping that she would be right.

Two ours later, when Jon finally stepped out onto the red carpet in front of the Gotham Ritz, he realized just how right his mom had been. Because Jon did in fact turn out to literally steal everybody’s spot light. Even though hardly anybody knew who he was, the photographers practically fell into a frenzy that made Jon slightly self-conscious. Being ogled at by your secretly closeted best friend was one thing; having random strangers shout your name and call out for you to pose for them was quite another. Trust on the Gotham press to go crazy over a black-haired twink in leather, Jon thought, especially when their favourite gay power couple JayDick were out of the country…

Sensing her son’s slight unease at the media attention, Lois quickly ushered Jon inside the venue, away from the aggressive voices and glaring flashlights. Instantly, Jon felt himself relax and become his usual easy-going self again.

“Let me see if I can find Bruce”, Lois announced, “I’ll be right back”. And with that, his mom mingled into the crowd, leaving Jon by himself to wonder whether Bruce’s son had come with him, too…

To kill some time, Jon grabbed a glass of apple juice from a nearby waiter and let his eyes wander across the elegant crowded room. Most of the faces were admittedly unfamiliar to him – which should make finding that one familiar face that he was looking for a bit easier, at least.

And after a couple of minutes, Jon did find him, dressed in a sharply tailored crimson silk suit that perfectly matched his tanned skin, and with his dark hair elegantly slicked back. Standing by himself at the edge of the crowd, Damian looked even more lost than Jon and – Damn, Jon thought in silent amazement, had Damian always been that ripped? Even without his X-ray gaze, Jon could tell how toned Damian’s body was underneath his layers of expensive silk. How could somebody that handsome be so visibly insecure in his own skin?

Taking advantage of the fact that Damian seemingly hadn’t spotted him yet, Jon quickly downed his apple juice and then made his stealthy way over to the other boy. When he was only a couple of feet away from him, Jon made himself known. “Dami!”, he called out cheerfully, “You’re here! I’m so glad to finally see you again!”

As if he was a statue placed on a revolving pedestal, Damian slowly turned around to face Jon, his cheeks instantly blushing at the sight of his Kryptonian friend. When Damian said nothing, Jon took the initiative to break the ice and hugged Damian, hoping desperately that he was not overstepping any boundaries and making things worse. Still they were besties, or at least they had been once. And what kind of besties could not at least hug out some tension between them?

After a moment, Jon pulled back – much to Damian’s visible relief – but kept his hands on Damian’s shoulders, not wanting to let his friend off the hook just yet.

“You look awesome, Dami!”, Jon praised his friend cheerfully, and it was true! In a family that had produced such once lookers like Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, Damian was a worthy successor of the Wayne legacy and definitely his father’s son.

“Thanks, Kent”, Damian mumbled his reply, “you, uhm, too. Especially your pants”.

“You think so?!”, Jon exclaimed giddily, his brain already short-circuiting. Did Damian, whose face had grown as red as Superboy’s cape, just compliment him on his leather pants?! The mere idea was enough to make Jon ramble on in nervous excitement. “It’s from the new collection of Urban Knights, the company that Dick is always modelling for. Urban Gents, they call it, I think. Less biker style, more formal wear, but still all about leather. Conner took me to their store in Blüdhaven a few weeks ago and I instantly fell in love with these. They just look and feel so great.” As if to prove his point, Jon gave his leather-clad thighs a little slap and could have sworn that he saw Damian flinch at the sound. Then, suddenly remembering how much Damian cared for animals of any kind, he added guiltily, “I hope you don’t hate me for this, Dami. Wearing leather, I mean. I know how protective you are about animals.”

“I, uhm”, Damian stammered, “I can still appreciate the, uhm, aesthetic qualities of these trousers, Kent.”

“Thanks, Dami, I’m glad, then!”, Jon answered, relief warming his chest at Damian’s approval. “And hey, I think Dick and Jay are real close with the owner of the company, Caleb. Maybe they can convince him to create some special faux leather pieces for you too. I’m sure you’d look great in leather, too, Dami.” An understatement if ever I’ve heard one, Jon checked himself in his head. Because if Damian Wayne started wearing leather – no matter if real of faux leather – Jon’s world might never be the same again…

Although judging by the way Jon could sense Damian’s pulse quicken and blood rush into his groin, maybe Jon was not the only one intrigued by the fantasy of Damian wearing leather pants…

Or is this all just wishful thinking, and I am imagining something that clearly is not actually there?

Once Jon took his seat at the dinner table – thankfully right next to Damian’s – he decided that it was now or never. Either he would find get clarity on Damian’s feelings for him tonight, or the thing would stay a mystery forever. Luckily for Jon, however, the combination of his heightened sensual perception, Damian’s overtly flustered state, and last but not least the enticing appeal of his leather pants might come in handy for that.

At first, Jon decided to play it cool, engaging in idle conversation with the other guests at the table which included Bruce Wayne himself as well as his business partner Lucius Fox and her wife, while Damian himself remained pointedly silent. At the same time, Jon spread his legs under the table ever so slightly – not wide enough to brush against Damian’s thigh on his left, but certainly wide enough to let the heated, leathery scent of his crotch spread a little under the table cloth. The rational part of Jon doubted that Damian would notice this at all, and yet the less rational and more yearnful part of him interjected that Damian had been raised by the League of Shadows and that his senses were probably as sharpened as was humanly possible.

Whether this was due to Jon’s doing or not, Damian eventually did loosen up enough to at least attempt a conversation with the boy on his right.

“So, I, uhm, heard, that you and Nakamura, uhm, sort of broke up?”, Damian began hesitantly.

Oh, so you do know and wanna talk relationships, Dami, huh?, Jon noted in silent curiousity, unable to remember any other instance that Damian had ever wilfully brought up Jon’s love life. This really is new…

“Oh? Yeah”, Jon answered, continuing to keep his tone and demeanour deliberately relaxed. “Jay wanted to move to Coast City to study journalism. At first, we talked a bit about whether we might try a long-distance relationship but we quickly agreed that neither of us really wanted that, so we ended things on friendly terms.”

Jon kept on eating while also trying to discreetly assess how Damian was taking the information thrown his way, but always, the son of the bat stayed inscrutable. Instead, Damian tried to continue, “Aaand have you been seeing anyone new since then?”

Who is this person, Jon almost gaped at the directness of Damian’s question, and what have you done to my friend Damian?! Well, if Damian wanted to play like that, Jon was more than willing to join him.

Between munches, he replied, “Not really, but I do have my eyes on somebody”.

And if that was not enough to deliver the message, Jon also sent a crocked grin Damian’s way, who responded with another poorly veiled inquiry.

“And you do think that person also has their eyes on you?”

Have it your way, then, Dami.

“Definitely”, Jon grinned slyly. “In fact, they have their eyes on me this very moment.”

The quickness with which Damian’s face lost its colour and tore itself away from Jon’s penetrating eyes made Jon snigger probably a little more loudly than it should and all but answered the questions that Jon had had. There was no doubt that not only did Damian still have the hots for Jon; now that Jon was back on the market, Damian’s hots for him were burning more brightly than ever before, as evidenced by the way that Jon sensed Damian’s body warming up the longer they sat next to each other.

More than satisfied by this revelation, Jon gave Damian a few minute’s reprieve, until Superman’s son grew bored again by the lack of action. In order to heat things up again – literally and figuratively – Jon spread his legs even further, until his leather-clad knee was touching the silk of Damian’s suit trousers. Acting like he hadn’t noticed what he was doing, Jon kept his knee right where it was, and to his utter non-surprise, he sensed Damian’s hormones going into overdrive.

Then, however, Damian surprised the Kryptonian and did something that the latter had not expected, despite all his hopes.

As covertly as possible, Damian placed his right hand on his right thigh and slowly inched its way towards Jon's left thigh. One finger after another, Damian’s hand, already sweating from excitement spread wide over Jon’s thigh, absorbing the heat from his leather trousers while also radiating heat in return.

Feeling Damian’s fingers palm his leather-clad thigh, Jon could have jumped for joy, but decided instead to continue his nonchalant strategy. All the reaction he gave away was a miniscule broadening of his disarming smile – not enough to provoke any suspicions around the table, but certainly enough to let Damian know that his gesture was being very much appreciated.

A minute or so passed during which Damian’s hand on Jon’s thigh did not move. Then, however, the hand started to push its way up to Jon’s hip bone before descending back down again, a slow but steady pace that soon turned into a rhythmic rubbing of Jon’s thigh. From one moment to the next, the sexual power dynamics under the table between the two boys shifted. Now, all of a sudden, it was Jon, and not Damian, who was starting to get a little too aroused for his own, judging by the way that the already rather tight crotch of his leather pants was getting even tighter than usual.

Having Damian just palm his leather-clad thigh was something Jon could still control.

Having Damian practically massage his leather-clad thigh, however, was way behind Jon’s self-control.

As if sensing that he had broken Jon’s erotic defences, Damian apparently decided to take things to the next level, moving his right hand over to Jon’s bulge which it cupped in his fingers.

A flash of arousal shot through Jon’s body at the touch, eliciting an almost-moan on his lips that he could bare suppress. Any chance he may have had of getting his teenage cock under control again was gone now, what which Damian’s hand on his bulge, caressing his pulsing genitals through the tight yet thin leather of his trousers. Even though Jon’s body was infinitely more durable than that of a regular human being, his erogenous zones were still just as susceptible to stimulation and edging, especially when the stimulation was coming from someone as gorgeous as Damian.

On cue, as if to affirm Jon’s self-analysis, Damian’s hand then gave Jon’s bulge a tight squeeze, crushing the last remains of Jon’s self-control into perverted pieces.

Gripping the table cloth as if his life depended on it, he bit his lips to suppress a moan so loud it could have been heard at the Fortress of Solitude. His eyes widened as did his legs, involuntarily pushing his hips and with them his throbbing crotch closer into Damian teasingly squeezing hand as if to beg for more.

To make things worse, this time Jon’s increasing state of arousal did not go unnoticed by the other dinner guests either, as his mother of all people asked him, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Jon mustered his most convincing heartthrob smile and replied “No, Mom, all good”, hoping that his mother hadn’t spotted the beads of sweats gathering on Jon’s forehead, either.

How could I have been so stupid, Jon silently chastised himself, thinking I could simply seduce Damian like that, and not thinking that he might start a counter-attack against me in retun. This is the blood son of the Batman!

At least Jon’s own dad was not here, because if he was, Jon’s cover would have been blown long ago…

Clearly relishing in Jon’s state of sexual distress, Damian leaned in close enough to Jon so that only he could hear, and whispered, “I guess not all parts of you are made of steel, are they, Kent?”

Is this guy for real?!

“What’s your deal?!”, came back Jon’s whispered response that he hoped looked convincingly like a normal conversation, and not what it actually was, namely a sexual cry for help. “You wanna give me a hand job under the table and make me shoot my load right here?”

Damian almost licked his answer into Jon’s ear.

“That’s what you get for flaunting those pants in front of me, Kent”.

Going in for the kill, Damian then began to thoroughly message Jon’s bulge, turning the leather-clad mount very quickly into a protruding tentpole. Literally and figuratively, Jon became putty in Damian’s jerking hand, not even willing able to stop his hips from rhythmically grinding into Damian’s touch. Not since his first encounter with Kryptonite years ago had Jon’s body ever felt so out of his control, and unlike with the mineral from his father’s home world, Jon could not deny that he was enjoying this state of helplessness. Far too much even.

It was only a small consolation for Jon to note even through his lust-crazed senses that Damian seemed to be getting just as aroused from the hand job he was serving Jon as Jon himself, squirming in his seat almost as much as Jon’s cock was squirming inside his leather crotch.

Still, there was no comparison between the two. If Damian was bringing himself closer towards the edge, Jon was practically holding onto the edge with only his index finger remaining, so much so that when the final course approached its end and Damian’s hand gave Jon’s boner an especially strong squeeze, Jon almost knocked over his glass of water and felt the tip of his leather-clad erection grow suspiciously wet.

Apparently, Damian sensed the precum leaking through Jon’s trousers and the tell-tale signs of his imminent orgasm, too, because the next second, much to Jon’s surprise, the jerking stopped, although Damian kept his now unmoving hand still in firm control of Jon’s throbbing bulge. A huge breath of relief escaped from Jon’s lungs, which gradually adjusted themselves to a more regular pace again. When Jon had fully caught his breath, he leaned towards Damian and whispered, “If you’re so eager to explore my leather pants, why don’t we do this somewhere more private?” Although these were perhaps the kinkiest words Jon had ever spoken, he also took pride in the fact that he had spoken them to Damian. If they could not be open about their sexual preferences to their fellow Supersons, then who?

For his part, Damian seemed to be in agreement when he replied in a low murmur “Somewhere private like the rest rooms on the top floor that’s currently closed for renovations?”

Jon could not help but chuckle at Damian’s response. Of course Damian knows the location of his dad’s gala inside out, Jon thought, admiring how Damian could be well on his way to an orgasm himself in one second, and then immediately start strategizing again in the next. “Sounds private enough to me”, Jon commented Damian’s plan.

“Good”, Damian concluded, “but we’ll have to wait until after Father’s speech, though.”

“No worries”, Jon grinned, and nudged his head towards the tablecloth covering both of their erections. “We probably need some time to cool down, anyway. Once up there, though, you’ll have all the time in the world to explore my leathers, Bird Boy.” To tease him further, Jon then placed his own hands on Damian’s right, which was still cupping his leather crotch, and gave their hands and his bulge an extra squeeze. “And everything underneath.”

Chapter Text

Damian Wayne has always considered himself to be a loyal son, supportive of every of his father’s endeavours and a proud representative of the Wayne family with its long legacy and prestigious legacy.

At this year’s annual Wayne Charity Gala, however, the patience of the 18-year-old during his father’s speech is wearing thin.

Almost as thin as the layer of silk of his suit trousers that could just about hold back his barely averted orgasm as Damian and his best-friend-turned-crush Jon Kent tried to jerk each other off under the visual protection of the table cloth overhanging their laps.

And that protection had definitely been needed.

It had all started off when Jon Kent had had the audacity to walk into the exclusive event wearing not only a slim-fitted and incompletely buttoned-up white dress shirt but – much more devastatingly – a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, the sight of which had poured pure gasoline in the already smouldering flame of Damian’s desire for his best friend.

Then, aided by the seating plan that of course had placed the two teenage boys right next to each other, Jon had teased Damian all throughout dinner, going as far as to brush his leather-clad leg against Damian, knowing exactly what the contact was doing to the current Robin.

Raised by assassins, however, Damian had not hesitated to retaliate Superboy’s sexual advances. Instead, he’d started fingering up and the length of Kent’s leather trousers before eventually going for the kill and grabbing the half-Kryptonian’s bulge and massaging it for all its throbbing worth. In the end, Damian had decided to see reason and let go of Jon’s erection before either of the two boys – Damian’s hand job had had the unintended effect that he had brought himself to the edge of coming, too – could lost control of their genitals.

Still, prompted by Jon’s unexpected promiscuity, Damian had suggested that he and Jon relocate their exploration of each other’s bodies to somewhere else a bit more private and safer, more specifically the closed-off rest rooms on the top floor of the Gotham Ritz.

And so now, all Damian had to do was to use every deep breathing technique that his training as the Boy Wonder had taught him to somehow keep himself calm and ignore the presence of the droolworthy young man on his right and smell that his heated trousers were exuding.

“And so, on that note, I thank you all very much for coming tonight, and wish all of us a wonderful evening!”

There sure is some coming to be had tonight, the naughtier, definitely Jason-inspired part of Damian’s brain wanted to add.

Damian used the applause that erupted after the closing words of his father’s speech to put his plan in motion. Pushing back his chair, he politely excused himself to the rest of the table guests, which included Lois Lane as well as Lucius Fox and his wife, stating that he needed to catch some fresh air. Once he had gotten enough distance between himself and the table – not to mention the stage where his father was still receiving the enthusiasm from the crowd – he grabbed his phone and sent off a quick text to Jon.

Lift 7. Floor 35. In 5min.

Once in the spacious lobby, Damian turned left and headed for lift 7, one of the few lifts that Damian knew went all the way to the top floor. The few seconds that he had to wait for the lift to arrive seemed like an eternity to the 18-year-old. Finally, the tell-tale bing announced the arrival of the lift, and a second later the doors slid open to grant Damian entrance.

The interior of the lift was covered by mirrors on all four sides, a welcomed opportunity for Damian to give himself a once-over and, if necessary, fix his appearance prior to his secret meeting with Jon.

No fixing was required, however, Damian discovered to his relief as he examined his reflection in the mirrors all around him. Despite the sexual heat that Jon’s teasing and his own retaliation had brought over him, his crimson silk suit still looked as immaculate as it did when the night began, just like his slicked back dark hair. If Damian could put aside his insecurities for once and judge himself objectively, he was every bit as handsome and as good-looking as the Wayne sons that came before him.

Not to mention as the boy whom I want to impress with my looks…

After a good thirty seconds, another bing signalled that Damian had arrived on the 35^th floor. Luckily for him, despite the renovations, the floor could still be reached via the public lifts, so when the doors opened, Damian merely had to step underneath a barrier tape into the dark corridor that was only illuminated by the city lights shining in from the outside.

To Damian’s slight surprise, no signs of any construction work could be seen. The floor, with its pristine carpets and wall decorations, looked as fancy as the other 34 of the building.

So the renovations must be nearly done, Damian figured, relieved that Jon and him would still have the floor to themselves tonight. A glance into the upper right-hand-corner of the corridor confirmed to Damian that the security camera was still switched off.

All to ourselves, Damian mused with a silent grin.

Pacing up and down the corridor, Damian tried to make the minutes until Jon’s arrival go past faster, until finally, the yearned-for sound of the elevator made his head shoot towards the mirrored doors of the lift.

As if in slow-motion, the doors pulled apart, revealing a sight so stunning that Damian truly had no idea where to look first.

Framed by the elevator lights like an angel descending from gay heaven, Jon stood there, his black leather trousers hugging his legs like a solidified black liquid. His white dress shirt had been further unbuttoned since Damian had last seen Jon, deepening his neckline all the way to his first set of ripped abs.

Most striking of all, however, were Jon’s eyes, the blue pupils of which struck Damian almost like a set of two swirling sapphire-coloured oceans.

Two ocean of desire. Of hunger. Of need.

Need of me, Damian realized with a shiver down his rigid spine.

In slow steps, Jon came closer, his eyes not once leaving Damian’s face. When they were just a couple of feet apart, Jon broke the silence and said, “I feel like a need a bath room break. D’you happen to know the way?”, barely able to suppress a smirk.

Clearing his throat, Damian quickly turned on the spot and stammered, “Y-yesss, I d-do, follow me.”

Fighting the urge to look over his shoulder at the young man following him, Damian walked down the corridor until it pivoted right. A few meters down the way, he gripped the handle of a dark door in the wall, over which hang an elegantly carved ‘male’ sign and pushed it open.

The bath room was almost completely dark, its only source of light being a startlingly bright green emergency exit sign over the door. Its emerald shine, still, was enough to illuminate the bath room, which seemed to consist of three urinals and three cubicles on the left as well as four sinks on the right, flanked by a mirror that ran down the whole length of the right-hand side of the room.

Without looking around, Damian felt the presence of Jon entering the room behind him and muttering, “You know, I’m not usually a great fan of the colour green, but I’m happy to make an exception for this.”

The sound of Jon’s low voice was enough to make Damian’s whole body surge with excitement, yet before he could bring himself to face the half-Kryptonian, Jon casually stepped past Damian and walked towards the far end of the room where he turned on the spot and leaned invitingly against the back wall, his leather-clad legs hips bent forward and opened wide.

Damian’s breath hitched at the sight.

“Come here, Dami”, Jon suggested, his grin visible even in the faintly green darkness of the room, as was the finger with which Jon gestured for Damian to come closer.

Moving in slow-motion, Damian followed Jon’s instructions and approached the other boy, one measured step at a time, until, after a seeming eternity, the two of them stood face to face. Their breaths, heavy with anticipation, were the only sounds in the world.

“You wanted to explore my leathers, didn’t you?”, Jon smirked when Damian said nothing.

“Well”, he continued, nudging his head down towards his lower body, “be my guest”.

Lust rising in his chest, Damian did not need to be told twice and sank to his knees, anchoring his own body by placing his hands on Jon’s hips.

“Urgh”, Damian groaned, the second that his fingers made contact with the leather covering Jon’s lower body. An almost painful throb shot through his own cock, which started to grow hard again in mere seconds. And this close to Jon’s bulge, which had also become suspiciously large over the past couple of minutes, it was clear as day that the half-Kryptonian’s body was reacting the same way.

Holding his breath in sexual disbelief, Damian let his hands slowly slip down from Jon’s hips towards his thighs where he rested them. Then he did something that, at least subliminally, he had wanted to do all night ever since he’d first laid eyes on Jon in this outfit.

Gently leaning forward, Damian buried his nose in Jon’s leather-clad crotch and breathed in as much air as his lungs could hold.

This time, it was Jon who had to bite his lips and filled the silence of the bath room with a powerful moan. Not that Damian could have noticed – he was far too busy inhaling the most arousing scent he had ever smelled. The leather of Jon’s trousers, paired with the sweat of his genitals and the slightly musty odour of the pubic hair trapped underneath the skin-tight-leather – it was enough not only to make Damian’s erection rock-hard but also to make his tongue dart out and give Jon’s bulge a lick that sent shock waves of desire throughout both of their bodies.

Bitter, earthy, manly – words failed Damian to describe the way that the leather tasted on his tongue. He detected a faint note somewhere between salty and sweet that he suspected could be traces of precum from the almost-handjob that Damian had given Jon earlier.

A small part of Damian was vehemently objecting to what he was doing. After all, Damian loved animals as much as he loved his family, so how could he possibly be so turned on by the scent and taste of a piece of clothing that was essentially nothing but a dead animal’s skin?

Nevertheless, the first inhale seemed to have unlocked a desire deep in Damian’s body that he had not known he’d possessed, and now all he wanted was more and more and more, licking Jon’s increasingly swelling bulge as if his life depended on it.

“FUCK!”, Jon gasped after a couple of minutes, breaking Damian out of his erotic reverie and redirecting his attention to Jon, whose face above him looked flushed and almost childishly giddy with excitement.

Still a SuperBOY afterall, Damian was tempted to tease his best friend/crush, the thought of which suddenly gave him an idea.

“Huh”, Damian cocked his head up towards Jon, “looks like your super body is still susceptible to the same kind of stimulations as us mere mortals.”

“I’d like to see you keep it together”, Jon panted, “when you get your cock licked through leather like this.”

“Well, I’d love to give you that opportunity”, Damian teased, “and let you see exactly that.”

“What?”, Jon gasped in confusion.

“After we’ve played a little game.”

A pause. Then Jon’s frown was replaced by a more intrigued expression as he said, “I’m listening.”

“For the next 10 minutes”, Damian began, remaining on his knees in front of Jon, “I’ll … work your bulge like I did just now, daring you to come. If you make it through those ten minutes without begging me to stop, you’ll win. Then, I’ll buy myself a pair of leather trousers from Urban Knights and some matching jackets for the both of us, and you’ll get to do to me what I’m about to do to you.”

Jon’s face was a painting of curiosity, disbelief, and infinite arousal as he listened to Damian proposal.

“And if I lose?”, he asked huskily, his bulge already growing again.

“Then you’ll have to buy the trousers for me”, Damian smirked knowingly. “If you want to see me in leather, you’ll have to earn it. One way or the other.”

Once more, Jon bit his tongue, clearly weighing both options his head and trying to imagine what Damian Wayne might look like dressed in leather pants.

In the end, his Kryptonian confidence won the day, as Damian absolutely knew it would.

“Fine. Deal”, Jon declares, with a grin of his own.

“Great”, Damian said, returning to his position in front of Jon’s groin. “Then get ready to beg, Kent.”

“In your dr-arggghh!!!”, Jon’s retort was cut short as Damian’s nose and mouth dove right back into the leather-clad mount of Jon’s bulge.

With the rules of the game set in place, Damian no longer held back. Instead he nuzzled and licked Jon’s bulge as if he had to insert it into his own body in order to survive, while Damian’s hands had begun to rub up and down the length of Jon’s quivering thighs.

Within less than a minute, the son of the Batman had reduced the son of Superman to a horny teenage mess whose only way to save himself from an immediate orgasm was to clasp the side of the head that was setting his crotch on fire.

“Mess up my hair, Kent”, Damian threatened ominously between licks, “and I’ll make you mess up your pants.”

Knowing his best friend all too well, Superboy took the threat seriously and let his hands fall back to his sides where they hang, hopelessly clutching the wall behind for any kind of support.

Yet a minute more, and the leather-clad bulge that Damian was licking and kissing had transformed into the unmistakable shape of a tentpole. The realization made Damian smirk – and pretty hard himself. In two minutes, he had licked Jon into a full-on erection. Now there was no way the half-Kryptonian would last another 8 before coming or begging Damian to stop.

Still, not leaving anything to chance, Damian took the head of Jon’s erection and sucked.

“URGHH!!!”, Jon groaned hoarsely, as Damian tasted the first delicious load of precum seep through the leather encasing the super boner. Encouraged by Jon’s crumbling resistance, Damian took Jon’s whole length in his mouth, until the leaking tip of Jon’s erection touched the back of Damian’s throat.

“Fuck it, Dami, I’m coming!”, Jon yelled, the volume of his voice making Damian glad that they were alone on this floor of the hotel.

Slowly, Damian pulled back, eventually releasing Jon’s throbbing erection with an audible pop while keeping both hands wrapped around the base of Jon’s cock, before smirking, “That’s too bad. You’ll soil all that good leather. Not unless, of course, you beg me to stop.”

“URGH, OKAY FINE; YOU WIN”, Jon shouted almost pleadingly. “STOP!!!”

In an uncharacteristic gesture of mercy, Damian did indeed stop, letting go of Jon’s body and rising to stand in front of him. Jon, meanwhile, simply doubled over, completely out of breath, his erection still protruding from his groin like a miniature Wayne Tower.

“Fuuuuccckkkk”, he groaned weakly in a way that did absolutely nothing to quench Damian’s own erection that was still throbbing happily his crimson silk suit.

“Well, I guess Kryptonite isn’t the only thing that can break you”, Damian chuckled nonchalantly while dusting off the knees of his suit trousers, as if he had not just given his best friend the most amazing quasi-blowjob of his lfe.

“Just you wait”, Jon tried to shoot back with a grin, craning his head up and squinting at Damian through his tousled hair. “When we switch places, I’ll make you sing, Bird Boy, like you’ve never sung before.”

“Perhaps, but before that you and I have some shopping to do”, Damian stated and patted Jon almost patronizingly on the back, “I hope you’ve got enough credit on your card, farm boy.” At the end of the day, a bat would always be smarter than a super. Even when it came to fashion and sex.

Chapter Text

Some things never change, Dick thought almost fondly as he stepped over the threshold and into the buzzing pent-house bar that overlooked the illuminated night-time skyline of Gotham City, especially when it came to photoshoots for Urban Knights.

The music.

In the more than 10 years that Dick had been working part-time as a model for Urban Knights, the biker gear company of his best friend-with-benefits Caleb Hunter, the original Boy Wonder had lost count of the number of different locations where he had posed in front of a camera in the finest pieces of leather clothing the world had ever seen. Whether it had been the top of Wayne Tower, or the docks in Blüdhaven harbour, one thing had always and reliably stayed the same, and that was the soundscape that Caleb would create for his trusty selected crews.

Every single time, whenever Dick had stepped onto an Urban Knights set, there had been various kinds of rock music playing in the background to get Dick into modelling mood. But this had never been your typical rock with raging electric guitars to bang your head to. No, these guitars had been sultry and seductive. More Hozier than Metallica. Or as Caleb had once explained during a personal session of after-shoot benefits that Dick usually got to enjoy when the work was done, “This is ‘get-me-to-bed-and-f*ck-my-brains-out rock”.

And as both Dick and Jason could attest multiple times over, Caleb’s strategy always worked. Without. Fail.

So when Dick entered Nirvana, the newest and hippest cocktail bar from which you had a truly awe-inspiring view over Gotham City, Dick could not help but grin like an idiot when he heard Hozier’s ‘To be alone’ playing and Caleb himself emerging from a door on his left to greet him, looking delectable as always in a snug black tee and equally snug black suede leather pants that really made Dick want to be alone with the blond hunk.

Especially when he wrapped his muscular tattooed arms around Dick and briefly pressed their bodies together. Not long enough for Dick to find out about the state of Caleb’s manhood, unfortunately, but certainly long enough to make Dick’s very own start stirring attentively.

“Welcome, Mr Grayson”, Caleb greeted him, discreetly and suggestively all at once. “Is the sexiest man alive ready to lend us some of his sexiness?”

“Urgh, Caleb”, Dick rolled his eyes when the two of them pulled apart, much to the dismay of Dick’s nether regions, “you know how much I hate it when you call me that”.

And it was true. Just as Dick could no longer remember the number of photoshoots he had done for Caleb’s label, especially after Caleb had saved Dick’s life as Nightwing years ago, which had not only led to Dick revealing his secret identity to the man but also to their relationship becoming much closer and deeper than that of two occasional f*ck buddies. Aside from Jason aka Dick’s openly married husband, there were very few people who get could get away with teasing Dick as the sexiest man alive, but Caleb was definitely one of them – in no small parts because Caleb, at least in Dick’s biased view, was giving him a run for his money for that very same title.

At the same time, though, Dick had also lost track of all the different magazines and websites which over the years had variously declared him to be the sexiest man alive, the prettiest of them all, the most eligible bachelor, etc, etc. While it had been flattering at first – who didn’t like to be congratulated on looking good? – Dick had eventually grown numb to it, and sometimes even outright irritable if he was having a bad day. Dick knew what he looked like and had never been above using those looks to his enjoyment or advantage, whether it was a civilian, as a part-time model, as a police officer, or as a vigilante in a skin-suit suit made out of black and blue leather. Still, being reduced to his looks was becoming a slight annoyance to Dick, especially since he had left the dating market and had gotten married to Jason, whose bad boy edginess in Dick’s book easily outshone his own personal appeal.

“I’m not calling you anything”, Caleb continued teasing him, “I’m just stating facts and quoting the feedback of our customers, who, after all, are always right.”

“Well, in that case why don’t you show me what you have in store for your customers this time”, Dick responded with a smirk of his own, “and I’ll see what I can do about my sexiness?”

“Straight to business, a man of my liking”, Caleb winked. “Follow me.”

Promptly, Caleb turned around, giving Dick a much-appreciated view of Caleb’s leather-clad cheeks, and led Dick past the long bar – the glass shelves behind which were stocked with more varied alcohol bottles than he had ever seen in his life – into a separate room that had been transformed into a dressing area. Near the wall on the right-hand side stood a clothes rack on which Dick could already spot a selection of pieces, most of them seemingly made out of dark leather. Meanwhile, an open door on the left revealed another brightly lit room with a large mirror at the far end which Dick suspected to be the make-up room.

Caleb, however, directed Dick’s attention to the centre of the dressing room, where a large white table displayed the pieces of what Dick guessed would be the first outfit that he’d model today. A folded privacy screen and a chair stood next to the table.

“Okay”, Caleb began, pointing at the table in front of him, “so we’re going to shoot two looks today. The first one is pretty standard. Jacket and pants with a white tee and black Chelsea boots. The jacket and pants are variations of our Midnight collection. Same design, but without the padding and protection, to make it more wearable.”

“Cool”, Dick nodded, taking in the pieces on the table. The leather jacket and pants indeed looked familiar to the ones that Dick already owned, as did the white tee and the black boots. He could definitely work with that. “And the second?”, he then asked, turning to face Caleb.

“The second is from the Urban Gents line, and it will be something … special.” With a knowing smirk, Caleb added, “A surprise.”

“You little tease”, Dick protested with a smirk of his own, remembering that Urban Gents was the evening wear collection that Caleb had started not to long ago. Hadn’t Jonathan Kent even worn a pair of Urban Gents trousers to the last Wayne gala?

I’m sure Damian will know all about it…, Dick figured, remembering his youngest brother’s not-so-secret crush on Superman’s son.

“Takes one to know one”, Caleb shot down Dick’s feigned protest. “Now get that fine ass of yours into my clothes. You can keep on your boxers. I’ve been inside them plenty of times, so why bother changing them now? Oh, and then don’t forget the make-up chair. Even the prettiest face can do with a little touch-up.”

Before Dick could protest for real this time at the outrageous insinuation that his face wasn’t naturally perfect as it was, Caleb swivelled around, closed the door to the make-up room and then left for the main room of Nirvana, pulling the door to the dressing room shut behind him.

Taking another glance at the door to the make-up room to make sure that it really was closed, Dick opened the privacy screen so that it would shield him and the table from the doors leading out of the room. Then he pulled up the chair next to the table and began undressing, discarding the clothes that he had arrived in one piece at a time: a pair of loose-fitted blue jeans, a red hoodie stolen borrowed from Jason, and a pair of grey sneakers that definitely had seen better days. One by one, he placed his own clothes on the chair, until Dick’s god-given body was dressed in nothing but black boxer briefs – which Caleb had in fact not only seen on him, but more importantly torn off him before – and black socks.

“Now onto the trickier part”, Dick muttered lowly to himself.

Dick had been modelling for Caleb’s company for years, just as long as he had been wearing their products in his daily life – not to mention donning a superhero suit every night, made out of leather that was tighter than any piece Urban Knights had ever produced.

In other words, the sensation of putting on tight leather clothing should no longer faze and excite Dick the way that it had all these years ago when he had first stepped into the Urban Knights store in Blüdhaven and had tried on leather pants for the first time in his life.

And yet, stepping up to the table, gently lifting up the trousers and feeling the supple smoothness of the leather with his fingertips, Dick could not help but notice that all-too-familiar spark of excitement flare up in his groin. Even after all this time, Dick could not tell for sure what it was about leather that could always without fail trigger some kind of sexual response from him, but whatever it was, trigger him it sure did!

Reminding himself of the breathing techniques that Bruce had taught him back in his Robin days, Dick inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with calming air, before exhaling again. Then, feeling himself properly braced for the sensual onslaught that was imminent, he took a step back, lined up the pants along his body, and then carefully directed his right foot into the trousers.

Inch by inch, Dick’s right leg disappeared in the pants, and before long, his bare skin came into touch with the unlined inside of the leather.

“Urgh”, he moaned softly, sensing his manhood stir in ever so slight appreciation at the cold yet soon-to-be-hot feel of the leather on his body.

Gathering his heroic will-power, Dick repeated the process with his left leg, and a moment later, he was pulling up the zipper and buttoning the fly of the pants. Letting his hands run down his thighs, Dick was pleasantly surprised by the fit of the trousers. Yes, they were slim – he doubted that the words ‘lose fit’ or ‘regular fit’ were even part of Caleb’s personal vocabulary – but they were not as slim as Dick had imagined, and certainly not as skinny as his Nightwing suit.

I should be able to model in these, Dick realized in unspoken relief, without popping a boner in front of the whole set.

Sliding his feet into the black Chelsea boots that perfectly blended in with the equally black leather of his pants, Dick then pulled on the white tee that would go underneath the jacket. The tee, to Dick’s taste and appreciation, was just snug enough to accentuate his toned torso, especially his chiselled pectoral and abdominal muscles, without making him look obscene. There was a fine line between sexy sophistication and vulgarity, and nobody knew to tread that line better than the original Boy Wonder turned Hunk Wonder himself.

With three quarters of his outfit put on, Dick decided that it was time to give his face the glow-up that it apparently needed, at least according to Caleb. Knocking on the door to the make-up room, Dick was greeted by a cheerful voice bidding him to come in. Dick did as he was told, and a second later came face to face with a tall, dark-skinned woman with voluminous curls who introduced herself as Melinda. “But you can call me Mel!”

“Nice to meet you Mel!”, Dick reciprocated the introduction as Melina guided him towards the make-up chair in front of the large mirror. “Caleb said I needed a little touch-up before I can model for him, so I hope you can help me out here, Mel!”

“Oh please”, Mel rolled her eyes, “Caleb is such a clown. Those eyes and those cheek bones are every make-up artist’s dream. A little moisturizer and foundation for your face, and some wax to finish that fashionably messy bed hair of yours, and you’ll be ready for your close-up, Mr Grayson.”

Dick could not help but smile, Melinda’s positive energy exuding an infectious warmth as she went about her business. That business, much to Dick’s personal vindication, turned out to be finished in less than 15 minutes. Like Melinda has promised, Dick’s face now indeed looked as fresh as if he had stepped right out of the ocean, while his bangs tousled in just the right way to seduce somebody and say ‘don’t you want to go to bed with me and tousle my hair some more?’

Once back in the dressing room, Dick added the finishing touch to his outfit, slipping his arms into the sleeves of the black leather jacket. The leather felt appropriately heavy on Dick’s muscular shoulders, and Dick’s dick eagerly agreed with the sensation too, at least based on the renewed stirring that he felt in his trousers. If leather pants could still provoke a reaction out of Dick’s genitals after so many years, it should come as no surprise that a matching jacket would have the same effect on him.

Breathing in and out once more to keep the arousal in his body under control, Dick took a stand in front the full-length mirror that hang on the wall next to clothes rack and checked his appearance.

Yup, Dick concluded proudly, I still got it, and although he was neither a vain nor a narcissistic person, he could not deny that his body looked excellent in the leather outfit – and that he had certainly grown-up into the kind of adult man that would have given young Dick Grayson a gay awakening in his own teenage days.

Satisfied with his appearance, Dick returned from the dressing-room back into the main area of the bar, which was already abuzz with movement from Harold, a tall-bald headed photographer in his early forties who had also shot Dick’s last jobs for Urban Knights and who was currently setting up a couple of large umbrella lights in front of the bar together with his assistant Steve, a slim, black-haired guy in his mid-twenties. A third man, handsome and tanned with brown curls, was looking on as they did so, and Dick suspected that this head to be Pasquale, the owner of Nirvana.

Instantly, though, Dick noticed another difference from before.

The rock music playing the background was no longer the only sensual layer that dominated the seductive atmosphere of the place.

The answer came a second later, when Dick inhaled another gulp of air and an earthy, deeply masculine scent hit his nostrils.

The pent house smelled as if a truckload of Tom Ford: Ombré Leather had exploded in it, almost tricking Dick into believing that the entire place from floor to ceiling was covered by an invisible yet all the more delectable layer of leather.

To Dick, it smelled nothing short of divine – so divine that the stirring between his legs suddenly made a pretty hard comeback.

“What’s that scent?”, he exclaimed loudly over the music, shock blending in with pure delight at the way that leather notes in the air were tickling his senses in all the right ways.

From behind the bar on Dick’s left emerged Caleb, a wide grin on his face as he walked over to the startled Boy Wonder.

“That scent, my friend”, he started explaining, clearly relishing Dick’s gobsmacked reaction, “is Nox. The very first cologne in the history of Urban Knights. It’s still in the developing stage, but I thought this shoot would be just the right vibe to try it out. What do you think?”

The knowing grin on Caleb’s handsome face told Dick his friend knew exactly what he was doing, and so he decided to throw discretion and caution to the winds.

“What I think”, Dick began in a low voice, stepping into Caleb’s personal space, “is that I need you to pour that stuff all over my body as soon as possible.”

“I think”, Caleb countered, “that you’re still wearing a few too many clothes for that.”

“Well”, Dick continued playfully, “then I guess I’ll have to take off my clothes, huh?”

“I can help you with that later”, Caleb promised and, as if to prove his point, gently swayed his hips against Dick’s to make their bulges momentarily touch. The contact was fleeting – blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fleeting – but still it was powerful enough to let Dick know that he was not the only guy with a secret, leather-clad hard-on in the room.

Oh Caleb, you dirty little bastard, Dick thought amusedly, trying to keep his mind from imagining what the aftermath of the shoot would be like and his shaft from growing stiffer than it already was.

Remembering that the other three men were still in the room and that he still technically had a job to do, Dick pointedly cleared his throat and stepped back from Caleb, grinning all the while as he stated, “Well I look forward to that, Mr Hunter.”

Caleb seemingly took the cue as well and switched back into professional mode. With a nod and polite – if still slightly mischievous smile – he led Dick over to the bar where Harold and Steve were already connecting his camera to the laptop that was placed on a stool beside him. From what Dick knew of Urban Knight’s CEO, Caleb rarely worked with a large crew when he shot campaigns for his company. Part of the reason was certainly economic in nature – a smaller crew meant smaller costs – but part of it, as Dick had long since suspected, also meant that fewer eyes on them made it much easier and more comfortable for Dick and Caleb to have their playful flirtations with each other that they both enjoyed so much. The number of times that Harold and Steve must have seen Dick and Caleb teasing and riling up each other, Dick was almost certain that the photographer and his assistant knew about the ways in which their relationship extended far beyond that of model and client. So the fact that the pair still came back to work for Caleb time and again suggested that they clearly didn’t mind it; if anything, the sexual tension that Caleb brought to every set that Dick modelled in only made his performance even more convincing.

“Hey Dick, good to see you again!”, Harold greeted him with a sincere half-hug that Dick promptly returned. “You too, Harold! Hey, Steve!”. After greeting Harold’s assistant, Dick shook hands with the third man, who indeed turned out to be Pasquale and who, in Dick’s eye, could have easily stood in as model for Caleb’s campaign himself. The French accent with which he introduced himself to Dick did nothing to lessen his attractiveness. While Dick appreciated the fact that Caleb kept the crews on his shoots as small as possible, he still had four pairs of eyes staring at him while he was trying to hide the growing excitement inside his leather trousers.

Once Dick had taken in his surroundings, he asked, “So, what do you got for me today?”

“Well, for your first look I thought of shooting you on of the bar stools. The bar behind should make for a nice back drop”, he answered. Then, pointing to a cocktail glass filled with an ember-coloured liquid that waited on the counter, he added, “we also have a drink for you to pose with, to add to the setting and the look.”

“Cool”, Dick replied, “Gotcha.” Then he stepped over a few cables on the floor and approached the stools that were lining the front of the bar. Lifting himself onto the stool in the middle, Dick was again pleasantly surprised by the flexibility of his trousers and by how the leather, while still smooth and soft, nevertheless prevented him from sliding off the stool. That made it significantly easier to start posing and follow the directions from Harold, who instantly began to take shots of Dick while also giving proficient suggestions and instructions for his poses.

Half an hour passed, in which Dick tried out all various kinds of positions – from standing to sitting, from with the cocktail to without the cocktail- and he slowly gained the impression that Harold was getting to wrap of the first look. Caleb, who was watching the shoot silently from behind Harold’s computer together with Steve and Pasquale, seemingly had the same idea, yet before they called it, he announced, “Before we wrap, I wanna try one more thing.”

With that he stepped from behind Harold’s computer past the photographer and towards Dick, who was currently lounging rather casually on the stool, the drink out of frame on his left.

Wondering what Caleb was up to this time, he arched an eye brow when the blond hunk took a stand right in front of Dick, effectively blocking his whole body from Harold’s camera as well as from Steve’s and Pasquale’s curious eyes.

“I think you should do something a little different with your legs”, he suggested thoughtfully, more to himself than to Dick. “Kinda like this.

The next moment, he gently laid his hands on Dick’s knees, letting them rest there for a second, before adding a little force and pushing his legs wide apart.

The further Caleb split Dick’s legs open, the more forward Dick automatically inclined his hips on the bar stool, making the crotch of his leather trousers even tighter than it already was.

The tightening of his crotch did not go unnoticed by Dick’s namesake, which sparked in renewed excitement as the supple leather mould itself to Dick’s underwear. Even though Dick was still far from being fully hard, the way that Cal was arranging his legs meant that even the smallest of genital reactions would instantly be noticeable. And so, Dick was hardly surprised when Caleb went one step further and placed both of his hands squarely on Dick’s growing bulge.

Immediately, Dick’s breath hitched at the touch, even though Caleb really did not do anything else. He merely let his hands lay on Dick’s groin, without even giving it a squeeze or anything of the like. Still, the contact between Caleb’s slightly sweaty palms and the heated leather that was covering Dick’s crotch was enough to send the model’s sexual urges into overdrive.

All that Dick could do was biting his lips to suppress the moan that was building inside his mouth, and gazing up wordlessly at Caleb, who was clearly enjoying the fluster of arousal that he was causing in the protector of Blüdhaven. “See, that’s better, isn’t it?”, the blond hunk had the audacity to comment, dealing the original Boy Wonder a blow of speechlessness, before stepping aside and revealing Dick in all his aroused, man-spreading glory to the view of Harold’s camera.

Dick pointedly cleared his throat, hoping that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too noticeable in the dimmed light of the set, and returned to posing, leaning back against the bar behind him, jerking up his chin in the cocky way that Caleb was clearly aiming for and resting his hands on his thighs – far away from his crotch to keep the pic from falling into all-out kink, but still close enough to frame the black mount that was Dick’s bulge. He also tried letting his head rest on his left hand behind him on the counter, making the biceps of his left arm bulge to distract from Dick’s other bulge down below.

If Harold, Steve, and Pasquale noticed what was going on between Dick’s legs, they at least did not let on and stayed professional all the way through the final few shots that the photographer took of Dick.

When he was done, Dick immediately jumped up, from the stool, let out a deep breath that he had not known he was holding back and pulled at the leather that was covering his thighs to give his skin a bit more space to breath. If this was what the first outfit would do to Dick, the Boy Wonder dreaded what Caleb’s surprise for look #2 had in store for him.

Caleb, it seemed, had the same thought, given that he winked at Dick and teased, “Ready for your surprise, Mr Grayson?” while he led Dick back towards the dressing room.

Right as Dick wanted to step in though, Caleb placed a hand on Dick’s chest – which did not help at all to calm down Dick’s groin – and said, “Wait here, I need a minute to get the pieces ready, I’ll call you back in.”

Dick did not reply except for rolling his eyes at the fuss that Caleb was making. Secretly, he was quite happy to have a moment onto himself. He needed it to get himself under control if we wanted to make it through a whole other look without coming right there in Caleb’s clothes in front of Harold’s camera. Fighting the physical attacks from supervillains and their goons when he went out at night and wore the tight leathers of the Nightwing suit was one thing; fighting the seductive attacks from Caleb Hunter while he wore the civilian leathers of Dick Grayson was quite another, and right now, Dick found the latter to be the much more difficult of the two battle scenarios.

A minute or so passed, during which Dick stood by the door to the entrance room and used some of his breathing exercises to bring his body under control again, then the door opened, revealing a Caleb whose foreboding smirk could mean nothing good for Dick’s self-control.

“Come in”, Caleb invited, and despite his better judgement, Dick accepted, stepping in and closing the door behind him before following Caleb past the privacy screen.

On the table in the middle of the room now laid three new pieces, all made out of black leather as Dick noticed when he came closer: a pair of loafers with subtle golden adornments, a blazer, and a pair of dress pants which Dick suspected were of a set with the blazer – and which even to Dick’s untrained eye looked even slimmer than then the pants he was wearing right now and which had almost brought him off minutes ago.

Strangely enough, Dick could not spot a dress shirt to complete the look any where in the room, so with slight confusion in his face, he turned to Caleb and asked, “Cool, but what will I wear underneath?”

Caleb looked like he had been waiting for this question all day. With a grin on his face, he stepped closer to Dick and murmured, “Nothing”.

Dick’s mouth fell open.

“Nothing except these”, Caleb added.

On cue, the blond man raised up another piece that Dick had not noticed he’d been holding. It was also made out of black leather, as far as Dick could tell, but looked to be smaller than the others. Much smaller. So small, indeed, that in all likelihood it could barely cover his …

“Are these…”, Dick began, comprehension slowly dawning on his confused face, “… boxer briefs? Made out of leather?”

“Indeed they are”, Caleb confirmed with a knowing smirk. “Made them myself, just for you. They are not part of the collection, but since I know how much you like the Urban Knights and Urban Gents leathers, I wanted to give you the most intimate leather experience there is.”

Dick gulped, not trusting his body to touch the leather briefs that Caleb was holding out like a promised treat in front of him and not make a mess of himself right away.

“Caleb, I really appreciate the gesture”, Dick began huskily, “but I’m not sure if you’ve noticed the state of my … my…”

“Your Wingding?”, Caleb offered in whisper, stepping so close that their bulges were almost touching again. “Oh yeah, I did notice. It’s pretty hard not to.”

“Then you should also know that putting on a pair of leather boxer briefs, while also going shirtless underneath a leather suit, might not be the smartest thing to do right now, given the state of my … my Wingding.”

“Are you telling me that the great Nightwing”, Caleb whispered almost inaudibly, “the prodigal son of the Dark Knight, cannot handle a bit of leather on his trained muscles?”

“Nightwing definitely can”, Dick tried to protest while adjusting the newly bulging crotch of his pants, “I’m just not sure about Dick Grayson, is all.”

“Well then Dick Grayson will just have to try and find out, won’t he?”, Caleb suggested with a slight push of his hips against Dick’s. “After all, if he manages a clean shoot in this second look, then perhaps I’ll let him keep the briefs afterwards.” With an audacious wink, he added, “For his marital pleasure…”

On his own, Dick may have been able to resist Caleb’s temptation and instead just model the second outfit in the regular boxer briefs that he was wearing right now. But with the allusion to Jason? And by proxy, everything that Jason might do with and to Dick if he saw him dressed in nothing but a pair of leather boxers?

Not a chance, Dick resigned in his head, and once again the namesake in his trousers was agreeing heartily based on the eagerness with which it was hardening again.

Out loud, Dick only managed a weak, “Fuuuck”, eliciting a chuckled “Thought so” out of Caleb who stepped past Dick and teasingly laid the leather boxers right between the blazer and the trousers.

“I’ll leave to you it”, Caleb said, “while you get … changed”, and the wink that he added to the last word made Dick want to smack the smirk out of his chiselled face – if he did not also want to lick that very face, too.

The Powers that Be that made Jason game to invite friends with benefits into their marriage really have to be divine, Dick mused as he adjusted his tightening trousers once again.

Once he was alone, Dick redirected his attention to the table in front of him.

“There’s no way this is gonna work”, he said to himself. He’d almost come already just from wearing the regular leather pants he had on right now. How in the hell was he supposed to wear freaking leather boxer briefs underneath a whole goddamn leather suit and even make it out of this dressing room without turning into a walking ice cream machine?!

Still, never one to back down from a challenge, the prospect of potentially taking these briefs home to Jason gave Dick the determination to walk over to the hanger by the wall and, one piece after another, put off the parts of his first outfit. He began with his shoes and socks, knowing in his heart that Caleb would want him barefoot in the loafers, before continuing with his leather jacket and t-shirt. When only his leather pants and boxer briefs were left, Dick paused a moment to look down at himself, both lowkey admiring and dreading the length that was protruding from his crotch inside his pants. Inhaling deeply, he unbuttoned the fly, pulled down the zipper and smoothly slipped out of the pants, which he hung up next to the jacket.

With his pants gone as well, Dick was almost surprised to see that there were no precum stains tainting his boxer briefs. Sure enough, the cotton was almost bursting at the seams, especially at the straining head of his erection, but at least it was dry cotton. Dry, unsoiled, undefiled cotton.

Not sure if I’ll be so lucky, he wondered darkly, when that cotton turns to leather…

With another deep intake of breath, Dick pulled down his boxers as well. If Melina, or anybody else for that matter, had walked into the dressing room that very moment, they would have beheld a rare sight, a sight that many people around the world would pay good money to witness.

Dick Grayson, the golden son of Bruce Wayne, the proud protector of Blüdhaven, the most handsome man in the whole world – totally and utterly naked.

And what was worse?

Totally and utterly erect, as well.

Unless teased about it by the likes of Caleb or commented on by magazines or in social media, Dick was rarely self-conscious any more about his good looks and how people admired him for them – and he knew very well that people did a whole lot more about his looks than just admiring them. Nonetheless, this was definitely a big step out of his own comfort zone, even for the Hunk Wonder himself.

Deciding that it would be best to get the worst bit behind him quickly, Dick went back to the table behind the privacy screen and grabbed the boxer briefs.

Instantly, he was struck by how incredibly light and soft the leather was, arguably the softest kind he had ever encountered in one of Caleb’s creations, and that was saying something. At the same time, though, the briefs did not seem flexible at all, Dick found as he tried to stretch the hem a little.

These will be the tightest things I’ve ever worn, he realized, and that includes my Robin shorts…

Bending down, Dick stepped into the briefs first with his right foot, then with his left. For a moment, he stayed bent over, letting the briefs hang around his ankles for a few second and giving himself a moment to gather all the willpower that he needed for what was to come.

Then he started to pull the boxer briefs up along his legs.

Shivers ran down his spine and all over his body the second that the leather made contact with his skin. He hadn’t even reached his knees yet, and Dick already felt more aroused than he had ever had in his entire life.

With a gulp, he pulled the briefs further up his leg and even past his knees until they finally reached the quivering tree trunks that were Dick’s thighs. Granted, Dick’s thighs were not nearly as massive as Jason’s, but they still matched the athletic build of a gymnast or ballet dancer – which meant they were not meant to be clad in leather-made boxer briefs so tight that Dick was becoming worried about the blood circulation in his lower body.

“Fuck!”, Dick could not help but groan when the upper hem of the briefs had made it along the length of his thighs, encasing them in a shiny second skin out of what looked like black liquid, and was only a few inches away from his genitals.

Suddenly, a thought struck Dick’s lust-ridden mind, a thought so embarrassing it made the proud hero blush like a flustered teenager.

How the fuck will I get my cock into these boxers?, Dick despaired silently at the sight of his manhood which was rock-solid and fully tenting upright towards the ceiling. And how can I possibly stop myself from coming the nanosecond that this leather touches my erection?

Making a wordless vow that Caleb would pay for this humiliation, Dick inhaled once more. Then, he hooked his left hand under the hem of his briefs and pulled them up, while simultaneously grabbing his throbbing erection with his right hand and shoving it as carefully as he could beneath the briefs.

Once he felt that hic shaft was securely tucked away, Dick withdrew both hands and let the hem of his briefs snap back against his waist.

“URGGGHHH!!!!”, Dick gasped, pushing all air out of his lungs the moment that the soft leather touched the burning skin of his erection and shook his body so furiously that he had to grip the edge of the table so as to not collapse on the spot. He was on fire.

His pulse quickened, faster than any time that he’d ever gotten dosed with Poison Ivy’s seductive pheromones, and he already felt the tip of his erection getting dangerously close to leaking not just precum but a full load of jizz into the tight leather that had just closed itself around Dick’s boner.

“This cannot be!”, Dick grunted through gritted teeth, shutting his eyes and gripping the table so hard he feared that it might break.

In and out he pumped air through his lungs, attempting desperately to hold the imminent orgasm at bay and somehow, against all odds, keep his leathered briefs clean.

Almost two full minutes Dick remained standing that way, the tip of his leather-clad continuously throbbing away like it might explode any second.

But then, one inhale and exhale at a time, a miracle overcame the anguished Hunk Wonder: the imminent orgasmic surge in Dick’s groin began to fade away, as if the tides of Dick’s hormones were literally turning from deluge to manageably high. He was still hard as a rock, but Dick was positive he could continue getting dressed without worrying that he’d come inside his clothes any second now.

Nightwing’s heroic will has prevailed once more, Dick prided himself in silent relief, even against the most insidious villain there is: my own kinks.

With his erection under control, Dick dared to proceed to the leather dress pants – and immediately realized how premature his relief had been.

Not only were these trousers even slimmer and presumably tighter than the ones he’d modelled before; he’d also have to wear them right over his boxer briefs, one layer of skin-tight leather over another, probably producing enough squeaky electric friction between them to power half of the city’s infrastructure.

Bracing himself, Dick repeated the earlier process of stepping into the slim legs of the trousers and pulling them up along his body, shivering all over again when the smooth unlined leather wrapped itself around the skin of his shins and thighs.

Stepping into the trousers went fairly well, until it came to a squeaking halt when Dick’s hands had reached his hips and the trousers came into contact with the boxers. “Urgh”, Dick moaned yet again, the tremors of friction between the two pieces of leather clothing not only sounding more alluring than they had any right to be, but also sending what felt like earth quakes of arousal through his already embattled lower body.

If this was Caleb’s way of ensuring that Dick would give him the biggest after-work load he had ever unleashed, then it was definitely working. Who knew, when Dick had first stepped into Urban Knights all those years ago, that the blond hunk behind the cash desk would prove to have such kinky depths to him?

And what’s more, that he’d know exactly how to get to the bottom of Dick’s own kinky depths too?

When Dick sensed that the risk of orgasm had once again abated ever so slightly, he continued zipping and buttoning up the trousers, grinning like a horny teenage boy at the sounds that the layers of leather on top of each other were making, and slipped his feet nimbly into the loafers which expectantly fit him like a glove.

Now, only the leather blazer remained, which Dick threw onto his nude upper body with a quick sleight of hand. On any other occasion, the sensation of the leather against his bare shoulder muscles, back, and arms would have easily sufficed to provoke a needy groan out of Dick, but after the sensual onslaught of the boxer briefs, the blazer was almost mild by comparison.

With his outfit fully in place, Dick stepped once more in front of the mirror to give himself once over, trying not to pay too much attention to his outfit lest it added more fire to the flame inside his doubly leathered bulge. More importantly though, he did notice that after his first round of shooting and changing, his hair now looked a bit more unfashionably dishevelled than fashionably so, which was probably not the look that Caleb was going for. Besides, Caleb’s sweat-inducing teasing had left its mark on Dick’s forehead and cheeks as well, so he decided to knock on Melinda’s door again.

10 minutes and another quick touch-up of his hair and face later, Dick returned to the main room of the bar where Harold and Steve were already setting up the second round of photos while Caleb and Pasquale chatted on the side. This time, from the looks of it, Dick would not be posing in front of the bar, but on the other end of the room, specifically in front of the wide, glass-paned wall, using the illuminated nocturnal skyline of Gotham City as an appropriately spectacular background. Even despite avoiding his reflection in the mirror earlier, after his visit to Melinda he could not deny that he looked like a billion dollars, so the sight of Gotham at his feet would only add to his vibe of a man on top of the world.

Dick approached the set more slowly then before, partly because he was still getting used to the sensation of wearing boxer briefs that were made out of leather and partly because he knew that the orgasmic urge that he’d fought earlier could come back any second. One wrong movement of his legs, and his cock would stand taller than Wayne Tower.

Thanks to Dick’s slow approach, Caleb was startled when he turned around and suddenly saw Dick standing in front of him in his second outfit. This time, it was Caleb who was slightly lost for words, clearly taken aback by the vision of Dick in his shirtless leather suit. Clearing his throat a couple of times to regain his voice, Caleb stammered, “How d-do you like your outfit, Mr Grayson?”

“I love it”, he smirked, adding with even more emphasis, “every part of it”.

If it weren’t’ for the lighting in the place, Dick could have sworn that he saw a little blush on Caleb’s cheeks. Silly as it was, it felt good to know that despite no longer being 21, Dick could still stun people into silence just through the power of his looks, especially someone equally as sexy as Caleb.

At that moment, Harold and Steve stepped forwarded and directed Dick towards his spot in front of the windows where the photographer wanted him to stand.

His near-breakdown in the dressing room notwithstanding, Dick now felt much more confident than he did during the first part of the shoot, and it showed. Not only had he mastered Caleb’s challenge to wear the leather briefs underneath the suit without coming; he’d also wiped the superior smirk from Caleb’s face, just by hitting him with a vision of Dick’s shirtless abs framed by only by his leather control.

Despite the number of eyes watching him, Dick was in charge – until Caleb, after watching Dick ponderously for several minutes, apparently decided to give it one last go at making Dick succumb to his desires.

“Something’s missing”, he mumbled, more to Harold, Steve and Pasquale, rather than to Dick. Without further explanation, he disappeared into the dressing room and returned a minute later, holding what looked like a transparent water sprayer in his hand. His confident smirk was back on his face as well, as he stepped close to Dick and sprayed the cold water all over Dick’s chiselled torso, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise from the model.

The liquid that Dick had suspected to be water turned out to be some kind of oil, at least judging from the lingering shimmer that it left on Dick’s muscles. Placing the bottle on the ground, Caleb wasted no time to rub the oil all over Dick’s torso, making sure that the liquid was poured into every ridge between his ripped abdominal muscles – and in doing so, reigniting Dick’s horniness and dialling its heat higher than it even was minutes ago in the dressing room.

When he seemed happy with Dick’s abs, Caleb proceeded to Dick’s pecs where he apparently deemed it necessary to give Dick’s nipples a few extra squeezes for good measure. To Caleb’s teasing delight – and Dick’s teased horror – the attention to his nipples left the two nubs almost as hard as the erection inside Dick’s trousers; and as if that wasn’t enough, Caleb decided to add insult to injury and gently grinded his own leather-clad bulge, which was just as stiff as Dick’s, against the boner of the original Boy Wonder.

“Boys will be boys”, Harold chuckled lowly behind the camera, as if he’d witnessed Caleb’s ‘directing’ of his favourite model a thousand times before, and Pasquale reacted with a sigh and an affectionate eye roll that likewise suggested his lack of surprise at Caleb’s shenanigans. Dick, meanwhile, failed to pick up on any of this, far too distracted by the renewed attack on senses and the erogenous zones of his body which was almost feral at this point in needing some kind of release.

The touch of Caleb’s nimble fingers on his nipples…

The leathery scent of Nox in the air…

The sultry seduction of the guitars in his ears…

And most of all, the gentle but incessant grinding of Caleb’s bulge against Dick’s underneath its layers of skin-tight leather.

It was all too much, he admitted, throwing back his head and barely suppressing the moan on his lips. Never before had Dick’s senses been so thoroughly overwhelmed, so completely overpowered in their sexual urges. Not even when he had surprised Jason for his birthday a few years ago by renting out a whole strip club just for themselves and had given Jason a private lap dance that had escalated into the most erotic night of both of their lives…

Jason…, a small yet defiantly audible voice in Dick’s hazy brain spoke up that very moment.

His husband…

He deserved to be part of this!

He needed to be part of this!

With a truly heroic gathering of manpower that only a disciple of the Dark Knight himself could perform, Dick straightened his head, forced his eyes open again, and gave Caleb’s hips a thrust strong enough to make the blond stumble back a couple of steps. Dick was still panting heavily, but a smirk was returning to his cheeks at the startled look on Caleb’s face. Clearly, the hunky CEO had not anticipated Dick to actually withstand his teasing and seducing, especially since he’d had Dick right there on the edge of orgasm.

A part of Dick was tempted to brag, “You don’t break the willpower of a superhero that easily”, but the reasonable part of him that had not just been edged to the brink of coming in his pants thought better of it, remembering the presence of the other guys in the room. In Batman’s rulebook, Caleb knowing Nightwing’s secret identity was already one person too many, even though Dick not mind the added intimacy that the revelation had brought over the years.

Picking up the water sprayer from the ground, Caleb still looked at Nightwing with slightly, awe-struck eyes which gradually resumed their normal confident expression. “Well…”, he began, trying to downplay his surprise but failing to complete his sentence, so Dick made a suggestion instead.

“Shall we finish the job, Mr Hunter”?

“Let’s finish the job, Mr Grayson.”

And then let’s get outta here, they added in unspoken unison.