keelywolfe | Fic: A Fusion of Style 1/1 (Batverse, NC-17)

A Fusion of Style
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Batverse
Pairing: Dick/Tim (Nightwing/Robin)
Rated NC-17

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just playing with them. Thank you.

Summary: Tim goes clothes shopping with Dick. God help us all.

Notes: This is completely for

rubynye, who suggested the Birdboys who shop for their underwear together would be a hot plotbunny. I blame her entirely. Really.

All mistakes are mine. I literally wrote this like, in two hours tonight, because I am bored and wanted porn. Go figure.

~~*~~

"You are aware that I can choose my own underwear. I've managed to do it for years." Tim kept his voice low, his eyes on the racks of men's underclothing. Wooden tie trees were interspersed in between the displays, making an interesting color contrast to the muted tone of the boxes. Each one had a picture of a young man sprawled across the front, showing advantageous bulges in the merchandise they were supposed to be selling.

Tim wondered how many people bought them just for the boxes.

A chin settled on his shoulder, reminding him that he had the walking equivalent of one of those models with him.

"Yeah, I know, I've seen the damages. White and light blue. Tell me, Timmy, when did your fear of colors begin?"

The urge to send an elbow backwards into Dick's stomach was almost overwhelming and only the fact that it really wouldn't help made him resist.

"I don't think I want you picking out my wardrobe, Dick."

"I happen to be very stylish."

The snort of laughter would not be stifled. "Okay, I've seen the pictures. If you've gotten style then it must have been an illegal transplant."

Dick slouched against one of the racks and put on his best wounded look. "You don't think I'm stylish?"

"Not now or ever." The past Nightwing costumes didn't even bear mentioning. "You wear biker shorts." Tim picked one box off the shelf. Boxers, black. Hmm, no. The model had brown eyes and hair, and his pout was mediocre at best. He put the box back.

"What's wrong with that?" Dick twirled the nearest tie rack sending the long, dangling tails of silk into a mini-tornado. If he'd thought it would do any good, Tim would have glared at him. Instead, he tucked the expression back into his collection to use when it might actually work on someone. Maybe Kon.

"Nothing if you happen to be actively riding a bike. You, on the other hand, seem to use them as an excuse to take your spandex fetish into your daily life."

A pair of hands settled on Tim's hips and he bit his tongue on a yelp, instead whispering furiously, "Stop that!"

"Quit being such a girl. I'm not going to ravish you on the floor of the Men's department."

"I'm sure whoever is manning the security cameras will be glad to know that. And I can't believe you used the word ravish."

Dick was long since an expert at eye rolling. Tim suspected it was an aftereffect of actually having to live for years with Bruce. Lord knew the muscles in his eyes ached after a long night. "Chill, I just want to get an idea of the size you wear."

"And asking me would be just too difficult?" Dick just squeezed him, gently. Biting his tongue was another habit he was getting entirely too good at, and if Dick noticed it all he'd do was offer to bite it for him. Luckily, or not, he seemed completely absorbed in sliding his hands up Tim's hips to his waist, testing pressure that made him sigh, softly.

God, Dick was such a brat.

"Mmm, yes," Soft, hot breath against his ear and he was absolutely going to kill Dick for turning him on in the freaking Men's department. "These ones should fit just fine."

He stepped to the side and plucked one of the boxes from the queue, leaving Tim to collect his scattered wits on his own. "C'mon, little brother, let's try them on and see."

"I…" His ear was still tingling. "You don't try on underwear. That's just…wrong."

"Who says?" Dick demanded, one hand on Tim's shoulder guiding him towards the changing rooms. "You have to see how they fit, don't you? What if there is a difference in brands, huh? What if one kind rides up? These are important factors to buying underwear." Dick shook his head. "I can see it's a good thing I came along."

There was no one near the changing room. The few employees whispering through the aisle barely glanced at them. Their jeans probably didn't speak commission loud enough for their attention. He let Dick guide him into one of the stalls with the weary compliance of one who knew arguing was a futile chore and sometimes it was easier just to try on the damned underwear.

Dick slapped the box into his hand and pulled the door closed, leaving Tim alone with his newest possible fashion statement. He turned the box over and was greeted with a dark-skinned brunette with startling blue eyes. Not bad.

The underwear was another story.

Boxer-briefs. Black boxer-briefs.

He supposed it could be worse; the Batman boxers he'd caught Dick wearing once still haunted the lower depths of his nightmares. He popped open the top flap and gingerly pulled out the neatly-folded contents, still encased in plastic wrap. At least no one else had thought to try them on.

They smelled faintly chemical, cotton and dye but he had to admit they fit pretty well. Comfortable enough and the fit would be better under his uniform than regular boxers. But black…he supposed he could add these to his 'laundry to be done when everyone is out of the house' list.

"Not bad, teen wonder."

Tim whipped around to find Dick lounging against the dressing room door. He'd pressed the lock button when he'd closed the door and Tim figured it had probably spared him at least ten extra seconds of Dick's presence. The appreciative light in his eyes was almost enough to make Tim rethink the usefulness of tighter underwear. They certainly hid a lot less.

He forced himself not to move when Dick moved to circle him, studying him from every angle like he was a new mystery to be solved. Disconcerting, yes, but he'd dealt with worse from worse. He skirted the untidy pile of Tim's clothes on the floor and Tim had almost managed to even his breathing when large hands slid over his hips again. His much less clothed than before hips and the hard press of Dick's fly against his ass was a slight deviation from earlier as well.

"Dick, what the hell—" he hissed, biting it off when one of Dick's hands came up to his jaw, gripping just tightly enough to tip his head to the side. Access for his mouth, Tim thought hazily, wet lips and tongue curving up to his ear.

"No cameras in here, now are there?" Dick murmured, "Sadly, it's against the law to photograph potential shoplifters in semi-nude states." The hand on his hip skimmed lower, stroking the dark cotton. "And you look—Mmmmm." It trailed into a sigh, Dick licking his jaw, tipping Tim's head back until his lips were in reach.

"Dick, this isn't –I don't…" Weak, he berated himself. Totally weak and Dick tasted like spearmint gum and his hand was sliding into the front of the boxers, curling between his legs and cupping his balls like there wasn't even a question of it being allowed. Which, really, there wasn't.

There was a low bench fastened to one corner of the wall and Tim found himself abruptly perched on it, his back against cool laminate as Dick just maneuver him however he wanted, and okay, he could admit that was part of the appeal. Someone stronger than him to just put him wherever they wanted and Dick did it just fine.

Dick was almost crouched in front of him, mouthing wetly at his neck and, God, pulling open his jeans. Tim could just see the front of Dick's underwear, hideously purple and he was sure he'd seen yellow polka-dots and then there wasn't time to worry about Dick's underwear because Dick's hands were suddenly tangled into the waistband of his own.

"Put your feet up," Whispered against his chest, a hot blurt of breath. Tim drew them up without thinking. Dick yanked the boxers down to his ankles and pushed his knees apart and just—

"Fuck!" Tim barely kept his voice down, jerking hard at the sudden wet heat around his cock, and Dick's mouth was like a fucking furnace, sucking him in with lewd abruptness.

There were two hooks on the wall, a loose hanger dangled from one and it rattled obscenely loud when Tim grabbed onto them, trying to hold on to something without just snatching Dick by the hair and forcing him down, just make him take more and he was already deep enough to be gagging him but this was Dick and he never so much as flinched.

Sucked hard and his eyes were shadowed by his hair, deeply blue and just…Tim gave in, pushing his hands into the heavy, soft mass of it, sliding it back so he could watch his cock glide between Dick's reddening lips. Watched as Dick closed his eyes and took him deep, swallowing hard around him and it was just so him to show off, to make it look as good as it felt and Tim watched it through painfully narrowed eyes.

His legs were already complaining about the awkward stretch and some absent, sane part of his brain was scheduling a little more time for flexibility training and then it was gone, dissolved in the wet slide of Dick's oh, God, hot mouth.

Footsteps, echoing in the enclosed area and Tim froze, hands tightening in Dick's hair. If anyone glanced under the door they'd only see Dick on his knees, but was there any other damned reason someone would be kneeling on a dressing room floor that didn't include giving head?

Dick flicked his tongue against him, just an obscene little movement that just made Tim hate him because he nearly bit through his lip trying to keep quiet, and if the worst thing that ever happened to him was getting caught with his pants down in a dressing room then he should be grateful but it still didn’t mean he wanted to deal with it.

The click of another lock melted relief in him down to his knees and he nearly stuttered out a shout when slick fingers pressed suddenly against his ass.

There was a small sample bottle of lotion Dick had gotten from the Cosmetics counter on the floor, empty. It smelled like the old women he'd save from muggings, flowery and strong, sense memory not nearly strong enough to make him fucking care. Tim crammed a hand against his mouth when Dick shoved two fingers into him, perfectly rude and perfect, and he could hear hangers rattling, some innocent man two rooms away probably trying on fucking suit pants and Dick had one hand in his own pants, working himself hard and Tim could just see the head of his cock between his fingers.

Soft, wet sounds that Tim could only hope weren't traveling far and then he couldn't hope at all, his own hands were sweatier than he could stand, crude and one of them tight in Dick's hair just pushing him down because Dick could take it and he couldn't make a real sound but he could exhale, long and slow and then bit his tongue hard as Dick groaned around him and came, shoving his fingers in hard and just twisting.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, oh," Tim mouthed wordlessly, holding Dick down and he probably couldn't even breathe, his nose pressed tight to Tim's belly but all he could do was shake silently with his own orgasm, coming with the taste of blood in his mouth from his bitten tongue and it was just…

Yeah.

Dick's mouth was hotter against his own, and he tasted bitter and swollen, licking Tim's tongue until Tim had to bite him to keep from laughing. They waited until whoever was in the other booth was finished with whatever they were trying on. He took long enough that Tim was more than a little convinced it was a shoplifter but it was hard to work up an urge to do something about that with his underwear still around his ankles and Dick smiling at him with lips that were still just a little swollen

A few more minutes and he'd look perfectly normal and that was both a huge relief and a teeny bit of a shame because few things were as attractive as Dick with a mouth that screamed, 'Yes, I give good head.'

It was entirely possible that insanity was contagious.

Finally, their oblivious, hopefully, companion left and Tim slipped off the bench and stretched. He kicked off the boxers and picked them up with two fingers, wrinkling his nose. Trust Dick to have perfect aim when it came to sex.

"It's a good thing you liked these ones because we're going to have to buy them."

"S'fine, I brought my plastic." Dick didn't seem to be in much of a rush to fasten his own pants. Definitely yellow polka dots on those boxers.

"Thank you. Because a person can't really feel completely trashy and used until someone purchases dirty underwear for them." A niggling horror made Tim ask, "Please tell me you aren't planning on putting this on your credit card."

"Are you kidding? I can't get a line of credit. I'm the richest person you'll ever meet who can't get a Visa." Tim relaxed back onto the bench. "I'm putting it on Bruce's."

Tim felt a rush of pure, unadulterated terror. He'd faced hordes of criminals, he'd faced Killer Croc, he'd lied to Batman, and nothing was worse than the thought of charging his underwear to Bruce's card.

"Don't be silly," Dick said, in that freaky mind reading way he had. "It's part of your uniform."

"I really hate you," Tim muttered.

"I know. C'mon, we'll get a few others and mix 'em up. No one'll even pay attention to the open box."

"I'm not asking how you know that."

"Keen observation skills." Dick kissed the tip of his nose and then ducked away from Tim's half-hearted swat. He opened the door a bare inch and peered out. "All clear. Come out when you're ready."

Tim sighed and slipped into his own clothes, grimacing at the feel of them clinging to his sweaty skin. The boxer-briefs he folded carefully and slipped back into the plastic before tucking them back into the box. Just in case someone did get curious enough to open them. On second thought…Tim put a definite crease on the corner of the flap.

The other ones Dick was doubtlessly gathering up would work with his uniform. He thought he might just keep this pair. Under his pillow. And never wash them, ever.

Straightening his collar, Tim tucked the box under his arm and opened the door to face the world again with new underwear. Now if only Dick would help him break in the rest of them.

Somehow, Tim didn’t think it would be too much of a problem.

-finis-

Current Mood: bouncy

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

zortified.livejournal.com

I was gonna say how I loved the line about Tim's eyes being sore after a long night, but then you distracted me with hot sex and I forgot everything else.

Except the part about Dick's polka-dotted underwear because... shudder.

From:

Fic: A Fusion of Style 1/1 (Batverse, NC-17)

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