A/N: The original draft of this story. I'm only posting this for people who would like to see the original and for people who would prefer to have the funnier draft.

The porn is largely the same, minus some dialogue changes.

Damian was sitting on the ground, surrounded by boxes, when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Though he had his predictions, he was still surprised when he saw the person who stood at the door.

"Hey, Damian," Dick said, leaning in the doorway. His eyes scanned over the room, his expression falling as he saw the shelves upon shelves of junk. "I'm guessing Alfred recruited you for 'spring cleaning' as well?"

"I'm almost finished up," Damian said dismissively. "You, on the other hand, have a lot of work ahead of you. How is it that you're nearing ancient, but you still haven't fully moved out of the manor?"

Dick ignored the slight. He entered the storage room, letting the door shut behind him. He glanced at the marked boxes, different names and categories marked on the sides in Alfred's neat script. Dick grabbed a box with his name on it, shuffling it around.

"I already don't want to do this," Dick said with a sigh. Damian snorted to himself. The younger crimefighter had narrowed down all of his items into a single box. He didn't have much clutter to begin with—Dick, on the other hand, had the most history in the manor. The shelves were littered with his name.

"Don't be lazy," Damian said. He started breaking down his empty boxes. "Pennyworth gave you plenty of opportunities to figure out your hoarding problem."

"It's not hoarding! A lot of these things have memories attached."

Dick set the box down on a table, prying off the tape.

Damian let Dick's faulty argument slip by. He supposed it could have been worse—Drake had a startling amount of boxes in the manor, given the comparably short amount of time he had spent there. His problem actually likened to hoarding.

"Hey, isn't this yours?" Dick said. Damian paused long enough to see what Dick was talking about.

His heart skipped when he saw the familiar journal in Dick's hands.

"Put that down," he demanded at once, heat rising to his face.

Dick, naturally, did the opposite. He started flipping through the pages. Damian huffed to himself, dropping what he was doing so he could pry his old sketchbook out of Dick's hands.

"Stop looking at that!" he said and despite being equal height to Dick, Dick still managed to keep away, swiftly dancing out of reach every time Damian made a swipe for the journal.

"What's the big deal?" Dick said. Damian caught a glimpse of one of his old drawings.

Awful, he thought, looking at it with humiliation.

Dick gasped when he turned a page. A familiar kitten stared back at them.

"He's so little!" Dick cooed, even though Damian's cat gave Dick the most hell out of everyone in the family. At this, Dick's face seemed thoughtful. "Hey, how old is this thing? This must be sometime right after your father came back. If I flip earlier, will I be in it?"

Dick started flipping even earlier and at this point, Damian thought he was going to die of shame.

"Cute," Dick murmured, coming across a Batman sketch. "Is this supposed to be you? Aren't the spiked knuckles a little excessive?" He chuckled a little. "You envisioned your adult self a little taller, huh? Usually guys stop growing at nineteen. I think it might be too late for you."

"How difficult is it for you to follow instructions?" Damian demanded. He managed to grab onto the corner of the journal. Dick let it go. When their faces met, Dick seemed startled by Damian's glare. "See, this is why you have so much work to do—because you'd rather goof off than do as you're told."

Dick crossed his arms, a strange expression in his eyes. He seemed to be balancing between amusement and annoyance. "What's wrong with having some fun? The room will get cleaned when it gets clean."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun here," Damian said, rolling his eyes. He tossed the journal in with his own box of stuff. He packed it up and started to carry it out the door.

"Wait, aren't you going to help me?" Dick said, cutting off his path.

"What's wrong, Grayson? Are you too incompetent to do it on your own?" Damian said with a sly smirk. Dick's expression soured.

"No need to be mean," Dick said.

"Don't you like me mean?"

Dick's face reddened slightly. Damian couldn't decide if the man was angry or flustered. Or both. Either way, it was the reaction Damian wanted.

"Now move. I'll leave you to your fun spring cleaning," Damian said.

Dick's eyes narrowed. Damian stopped, not liking the look.

The acrobat snatched the journal from the top of the stack. Damian gritted his teeth in frustration. He sat the box on the nearest ledge.

Just as Dick was about to place the journal back in his box, Damian grabbed him. Dick's laughter was cut short when the sketchbook fell out of his hands. A few loose papers scattered, a few of which flew out the window.

Damian stopped and glared at Dick.

"Oops," Dick said.

"Incompetent," Damian said, as if this proved everything.

"Wait, I can get it. Let me help—"Dick said, sounding genuinely apologetic, but Damian was already ahead of him.

"Why would I want your help when you're completely incapable of doing anything right?" Damian said, annoyed. He stuck his head out the window. A few pages were caught on the corner of the building. He might be able to reach it from where he stood. Dick was quiet for a moment.

"Come on, Damian. It was an accident." He started to sound upset. Maybe even irritated. But Damian was raised to exploit a person's weakness, and so his natural response was to be unrelenting.

"Of course it was an accident. You spend more time causing accidents than creating solutions."

He leaned out the window, resting his middle on the ledge. His fingertips grazed one of the pages. If he reached a little further—

He went on, saying, "Maybe if you spent more time taking yourself seriously for once, you wouldn't have so much strife in your life."

He got one of the pages. The others were simply too far away to reach.

He started to climb back out but as he did so, he knocked into the flimsy piece of wood that kept the window propped up. He bit back his surprised yelp as the window came flying down, landing flat on his spine.

It was so unexpected that he let the paper slip out of his hand, the wind carrying it away. It was all for nothing.

Great, he thought, annoyed. But aside from some mild pain and a bruised ego, it was nothing. He started lifting himself up, expecting to window to rise with him.

He blinked. Nothing was happening.

He pulled back and again, nothing happened. The window didn't budge and his body was too big to go anywhere.

He hung his head, giving a low, frustrated noise.

He banged his fist against the brick. "Grayson. Open the damn window."

"What's wrong?" Dick said. There was enough space cracked open where Damian could hear Dick, although his voice was slightly muffled. "Just lift it up."

"What do you think I just tried doing?" Damian said, practically barking.

"Oh, you need my help? But I thought I was incapable…"

Damian's eyes rolled. Grayson, melodramatic as ever. "What, do I have to beg? Just open it!"

"A simple 'please' would be nice."

Damian huffed. "Please open the window, you insufferable loser."

The window shook slightly, wobbling with a sound.

"Um."

"What?" Damian said sharply.

"It's stuck."

Damian scoffed. "It is not stuck, you're just too weak to lift it."

"I'm serious, Damian. I can't get it open," Dick said, a growl between his teeth as he tried to lift it once more. The window made a strained sound. Dick immediately stopped. "Not without busting the damn thing, anyways."

"Well, then do it."

"You want me to break the window?" Dick said incredulously. "Who's going to pay for that?"

"Is money really your concern? In this house?" Damian spat back.

"Okay, fine. You're right," Dick said, cutting Damian off before he could go off on a full rant. "Let me just… try lifting it from both sides first."

"Or you could just get me out now." Dick's stupidity was through the roof.

"Calm down," Dick said, using his reprimanding voice. Damian clenched his jaw, biting back his argument. As annoyed as he was at his current situation, he had been prodding at Dick for awhile. While he was sure that Dick wouldn't abandon him completely, he wouldn't put it past Grayson to leave him there for a few hours to teach him a lesson. "It's not like you have anywhere to be. Just… relax."

Damian let his weight rest on the sill, his legs dangling. This whole thing was humiliating. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the squeaks of the window as Grayson fruitlessly tried to lift it with a hand on each side. The awkward positioning led to Dick's chest weighing down on Damian's back as he tried to angle over him.

"Stop," Damian hissed, after Dick's elbow jerked against his spine. "It's not going to work."

"Let me try it from over there."

Damian bit back his demands, letting Dick shuffle behind him. There was a pause in his movements.

Finally, Damian huffed. "Well? What's the hold-up now?"

"Nothing, it's just… it's kind of a nice sight."

Damian's face burned. Despite his better judgment, he asked, "What is a nice sight?"

Damian jumped in place when two strong hands suddenly grabbed his ass.

"What the hell are you doing? This is not the time for that!" Damian spat, heart racing. He tried to turn back to see Dick but couldn't twist that far—so he blindly kicked instead, making contact with the air. Of course Dick would dodge it.

"I don't think you're in a position to tell me what to do," Dick said with a low chuckle. Damian deadpanned.

"And I don't think I have to explain to you—a vigilante—everything that was wrong with the words that just came out of your idiot mouth."

Damian jerked—more out of surprise than pain—when a sharp spank landed on his ass.

"Oh, come on," Richard said, in that husky tone of voice he always used when he was up to no good. The tone that made Damian, despite everything, keep his mouth shut and hang on every word. "You love the attention."

Damian's mind spun, trying to find an argument. Ears hot, Damian grumbled, "Moron. It's like you're only capable of thinking with your—"

Damian felt hands around his waist, followed by the light clang of his belt buckle ringing in the air. Damian could start to feel his heart rate pick up. Shit, the moron was actually serious about this. Given their sexual history, Richard could have any number of things planned that related to Damian's pants being off—and none of them were innocent.

Damian's face warmed. His eyes darted around his surroundings. Granted, no one could walk by on these grounds except the Wayne family. But it still felt very public. "What if someone comes by?"

"There are curtains," Dick said simply. Damian clenched his jaw as Dick's hands brushed between his legs—with more pressure than what was necessary in Damian's opinion, though he supposed that was the intention—and undid the button there.

"That's not the point," Damian said, voice comparably soft against the harsh sound of his zipper. Dick's hand pressed against Damian's groin, purposeful this time, warm palm massaging Damian through the remaining fabric, getting him hard. Heat rushed through Damian's body at the contact. Damian's eyes fluttered shut—despite all of his protests, Dick's hand felt nice. The whole situation was unfair and obscene but the temptation was there.

Yet, when his clothes fell to his ankles, Damian regained his senses. This was just stupid and crude.

In a hope to manipulate Dick into opening the window—since intimidation clearly wasn't going to work—Damian said in a lower voice, "Focus on getting me out of here first and I'll reward you later. Freeing my entire body would be worth your time."

Richard never spared a laugh—but on rare occasions, his low chuckle could make Damian shiver.

"Oh?" Dick said, seeming to consider the prospect. "Is that a promise?"

It was absolutely ridiculous trying to seduce Dick while staring at the backyard—the Wayne cemetery was right over that hill, for fuck's sake—but Damian had already long accepted the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Damian could feel the shape and heat of Dick's erection pressing through the man's jeans, lined along Damian's backside. It was the small victories that mattered. Now convinced that Dick's lack of self-control had tipped things in Damian's favor, Damian felt a little more bold.

All while fantasizing about how he was going to punch Dick once he was freed, Damian said in his most seductive voice, "You'll have more than my promise."

"Meh," Dick said.

Damian's face fell.

"I think I like you better like this," Dick said, hand squeezing around Damian's now fully hard erection. Damian clenched his jaw, holding back his voice.

Now fantasizing about how he was going to stab Grayson, Damian said a little more forcefully, "You'll like my mouth better."

"Your mouth?" Dick repeated, voice sounding lost in thought. His hands moved over the contours of Damian's body, pushing up his shirt. Dick leaned down to kiss the exposed skin, soft lips moving down his spine. The sensation was sensual, relaxing. Damian felt the cold air touch where Dick had kissed, feeling goosebumps rising on his arms in response. Dick murmured, "Actually, I don't really think I like your mouth at all."

At this, Damian paused, pondering over those words.

Suddenly, he guffawed.

"Wait, don't tell me you're mad at me?"

Damian was cut off short when Dick dipped his head lower, warm mouth pressed against Damian's entrance. Damian flinched as the flat of Dick's tongue, warm and wet and rough, stroked over his hole. Damian's lips parted, a moan threatening to escape as Dick applied pressure. His movements growing bolder.

He heard the sound of another belt coming undone. Dick, likely touching himself. Getting himself hard too. And the idea of it embarrassed Damian greatly. Without being able to help it, he thought about how the situation must have looked—himself, trapped and exposed, with an older man rimming him. And touching himself, while doing it.

Damian felt a warmth rise to his face. It was lowly, sure. But seeing as how he was stuck, he didn't have much of a choice. Perhaps the best thing would be to just let Dick get off. The sooner he did, the sooner Damian could be free to punish his boyfriend.

But it wasn't in his nature to just lie there and take it. He was nervous. Crazy nervous. It wasn't just the location—it was the complete and utter lack of control.

Dick's tongue moved in upwards strokes against his hole, each movement making him more sensitive than the last. Damian bit down on his lip to restrain his moan. He didn't want to give Dick the satisfaction in knowing that his motions were getting to him but it was difficult to control himself. However obscene, Dick's mouth was warm and inviting, and he worked at a pace that made Damian want to relax and give in to the pleasure that he was receiving.

His breath hitched ever so slightly as he felt Dick's tongue begin to prod at him. Wanting to enter inside. His face burned at the crudeness of it all—he wanted to squirm away but there was nowhere to go, his body trapped underneath the pane. Dick's tongue pushed inside, beginning to stretch him open, and heat rushed to Damian's face.

He was increasingly aware of how hard he was. His cock was aching between his legs. He wanted to touch himself but his hands were trapped on the other side of the wall. His body felt hot and confined in his sweater and he couldn't do anything to relieve himself.

And Dick continued teasing him with his tongue and mouth, hands kneading the flesh of his ass but not moving anywhere else. Not stroking his cock like Damian needed him to.

A small moan crawled up Damian's throat, making Dick halt.

"Say something?" Dick said, and Damian could perfectly envision his dumb smirk.

Damian's face burned. Bastard.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Damian said coolly. "It can't possibly be taking this long for you to get ready—you're not that old."

When Dick didn't respond right away, Damian felt a little more bold. A little more in control.

"At this rate, I might just fall asleep."

Damian would fake some snores at this point if that was what it took to get Dick to hurry up. But without being able to see Dick's face, Damian couldn't gauge a reaction. Dick simply said nothing, his warm breath brushing against Damian's wet entrance, and Damian resisted reacting to it. Resisted pushing back his hips for more.

Damian felt fingertips brush lightly over his cock—but nothing more than that, just enough to tease. Damian's hand clenched into his fists, his brow furrowing. He wanted Dick's hands again. More, firmly this time. He wanted to be touched properly. Dick went back to rimming him, his tongue pushing in deeper. Damian gripped the sill, trying to find purchase on something. Anything. Dick's hands moved across his ass—Damian stifled a gasp as fingers prodded at his hole. Dick's fingertips pushed in, spreading Damian open, and Damian's face burned at the idea of Dick being able to see everything.

Dick's fingers stretched Damian to better receive his tongue. This time, Damian couldn't hold back his voice as Dick filled him. The warm, wet intrusion felt so good. Damian's body fell slack, a shudder running down his spine.

Fuck, it felt good.

He just needed Dick to go a little faster. A little harder.

He needed more.

Then Dick's hand was finally back on his cock—and the anticipation seemed to make it that much sweeter. Damn it all, Dick could be unbearably indulgent in foreplay. Sometimes so agonizingly slow that Damian would forget about the pay off. Whenever Dick took his sweet time in the past, Damian at least had his hands free where he could pull Dick's head and hands and everything else to do whatever he needed them to do. If he wasn't trapped, Damian's hands would likely be buried in Dick's hair by now.

Richard was stroking him in tune with the slide of his tongue—enough to keep the pleasure constant, but not enough to drive Damian towards the edge. Quickly, Dick's hand became just as frustrating as Dick's mouth—Damian needed more. He needed him to stroke faster, harder. Needed him to plunge his tongue deep, deep enough for Damian to feel the shape of him. Feel the stretch.

His breath grew shorter with each pump on his erection, heat prickling on his skin. He wanted to arch back but he was trapped, so trapped. He licked his lips, memories of Dick's kisses coming to mind. Damian wanted his lips and teeth. Wanted to feel Dick suck on his ear and neck instead of the outdoors breeze that brushed against his skin. Wanted Dick's rough and callused hands to reach up his sweater and tease his chest, pulling and pinching at his nipples.

Damian felt Dick's breath against his skin. Damian anticipated more of his tongue—groaned when Dick's fingers unexpectedly pressed inside instead. Two fingers, scissoring inside of him. The pace of his fingers much faster, relieving Damian's antsiness. The fingers were thicker, could push deeper, were more controlled in the angle of their thrusts. The fingers pressed where it felt best, that spot that made him lose his restraint and moan openly.

The hand on his cock moved quicker now, closer to the tip. Damian could feel the heat swelling in his cock. He was going to come. Dick was stroking him and finger fucking him and he was going to come. Dick's teeth grazed against his flesh, his heated breaths matching to the tune of Damian's own—Damian had nowhere to look but at the ground and all the blades of grass blurred together until his eyes finally shuddered to a close—a moan vibrated against his lips until—until—

Dick released him all at once.

A forlorn gasp escaped his lips, at first not grasping the sudden absence of Dick's hands. His aching cock hung between his legs, pulsing. Precum leaking down the tip. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

His entire body shuddered, pleasure dancing along his spine as his body balanced on the edge of climax—without tipping over.

His brow furrowed, teeth gritting. Fucking Grayson. He should have known Richard would pull something like this. He should have fucking known.

But laced with his anger was desperation. He needed to come. He so badly wanted to stroke himself to completion, even if it meant jerking himself off at Dick's feet. Wanted it so bad he could beg for it if his pride still didn't have a hold on him.

But he was trapped in this stupid fucking wall and the only person who could get him out was also the one tormenting him.

Damian could hear a light jangle behind him. The familiar sound of a belt buckle. His breath hitched. Was this imbecile getting dressed?

"You are not leaving me here," Damian said at once, and he hated how childish he sounded—making desperate demands when he was in no position of control.

Dick didn't say anything. A sharp sound cutting through the air answered for him. Damian jerked forward, the smack against his hind much harder than Dick's mild spank from earlier. The belt left a sting on his cheek and Damian's heart raced, a dull anger rising in his chest amidst the shock. He felt almost betrayed.

Dick was supposed to be helping him. Damian supposed he had been rather abrasive, but that was how he always acted. Surely he didn't deserve all of this.

But the idea that maybe he did earn such treatment brought up a strange feeling of shame. Of guilt. Feelings that he desperately tried to stuff down.

It didn't matter if Dick teased or played hard, he decided, chest tightening with pride. Damian wasn't going to give in. He'd keep together what little fucking dignity he had.

Damian anticipated the second strike but it tore out his breath all the same. Damian could handle pain—but the strikes felt strange. His body had been driven to the point of highest pleasure—making him almost more sensitive to the strap. The burn on Damian's skin distracted him from the pleasure in his groin.

Another hit, landing in nearly the exact same spot, and Damian's eyes squeezed shut. Another and the sting finally dragged a groan out of him.

He moved his legs anxiously, trying to relieve the itch on his skin. His heart raced, not sure what he wanted. Almost wanting another strike just so he could focus on something else—anything but the sensation of being spanked that lingered on his skin.

There was a pause and with his eyes shut, Damian could hear his own breathing. It was heavy now. His heart fluttering with nerves as he waited for the next one. Unpredictably, the strike landed on the other cheek. Fresh and new. Flesh prickling at the sting. Another, and Damian could feel the blood rushing to the spot. Hot. He could only imagine what his ass looked like right now—probably flushed all red. The idea of it brought a strange semblance of shame to Damian, who regarded every single scar on his body as a mark of every failure in battle.

A series of strikes, quick and light, made it hard to think. Grunts escaped him and he hated how animalistic he sounded. How demeaning it all felt. A hard smack finally pulled a sound, loud and clear from him, and that seemed to satisfy Dick somewhat.

Damian, tense throughout the entire ordeal, finally relaxed. He panted, trying to catch his breath. Legs quivering. He nearly whined when Dick touched the sensitive skin, the touch deceivingly gentle. Hands almost soothing as they touched his skin.

His erection had lessened somewhat. He was hard but he was far from the brink of glorious ecstasy that he once was. Dick had given him that high pleasure and then took it away.

He knew it was not over. Dick was playing nice now—but his hands weren't off Damian yet. He wasn't done playing. Every second felt agonizing—waiting for Dick to move onto the next thing. It was almost terrifying how unpredictable he was—Damian could never guess with Dick, even though the older man could read him like a book. The way Dick moved fluidly between sweet and generous to anger only amplified his darker moods, each rare time they actually appeared.

And it was even more terrifying to know that, whichever side of Dick decided to take over, Damian would be completely subject to his whims.

Minutes seemed to pass before Dick surprised him once again. Instead of going back to spanking or petting him, he moved around Damian. Damian's eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to sense where Dick was. Listening to the ever so subtle creaks in the floorboards. Feeling the other's body heat as he drew in close.

Damian was startled by the creak on the floor right before him, a breath suddenly fanning across his semi-hard erection. And Damian knew what was coming but after everything that happened, after the way Dick was acting, Damian still didn't believe it when Dick's tongue pressed against the tip of his cock.

Damian gasped. His legs moved and Dick grabbed him, holding him even further in place. Damian couldn't see Dick but he could imagine it—imagine Dick positioning himself between Damian and the wall, his lips on Damian's cock. The thought of it alone made Damian groan.

He wanted Dick to swallow him completely but he didn't. Damian squirmed as Dick's tongue teased over his cock—light, gentle strokes of his tongue. Lips kissing and gently nibbling along the sides of the shaft.

Too gentle, not enough. Damian wanted to fuck his mouth. He wriggled in place, the window lightly protesting, to no avail. Everytime he tried to guide the tip of his cock to where he thought Dick might be, it entered nothing.

Eventually, Dick suckled on the head. Lips wrapped around tight, head stilled in place. Letting his tongue wrap the member in his mouth. Damian practically whimpered, the pathetic sound reaching his ears and only furthering his shame. He needed more. He was close to begging for it.

Dick kept his mouth around him for nearly an eternity. Then he slowly began to bob his head along the full length of Damian's cock. Damian let out a cry as he Dick swallowed the entirety of his erection, the tip of his cock tracked in the wet, tight heat of Dick's throat.

He was cursing under his breath, frantically, nails clawing and chipping the paint on the ledge as Dick bobbed his head. Again and again, all the way down. All the way. Dick's mouth is so hot and wet. The sounds of his sucking just barely reaches Damian's ears.

He tried to thrust his hips but each time he did, Dick would pull back to the tip. Damian's thighs were trembling now, trying to hold still. Trying to control himself.

Damian gasped Dick's name when fingers stroked over his hole. He wanted it. He wanted Dick to thrust inside of him. To fill him up while he pleasured him with his mouth.

Dick granted him that. What feels like two fingers push inside. It's in so deep, stretching him so good. Dick's fingers are a little rough, the friction a little intense, but Damian liked it when there was a little bit of pain.

Damian suddenly heard something that snapped him out of his haze. There was a familiar sound—metal ringing in the air.

Titus, he realized. Jetting out from around the corner and into the field is the great dane.

And if he was outside, then that meant someone was with him.

Damian's eyes widened when he saw his father enter his line of vision. The man is distracted by Titus, watching him to make sure the dog didn't venture too far off while he played in the yard.

"Grayson," Damian whispered, to warn him. To get him to stop. But he had to do it without his father seeing him.

As if he had heard him, Bruce suddenly turned his head, catching sight of Damian.

Dick's head sunk deeply on Damian's cock. Fingers pushing in down to the knuckle. Damian tried to back away but there was nowhere to go, and Dick practically seemed to chase after him.

The worst part is that it all felt so good. Crazy good. He was already sensitive from being pushed to near-orgasm and Dick's mouth moved so skillfully, his fingers brushing up against Damian's most pleasurable areas, that he felt like he was getting close again. Close to coming.

And his heart was hammering as his father started to walk toward him but even his fear couldn't block out the pleasure.

"Grayson," he whispered harshly once more. Voice more desperate now.

He wanted to kick Richard away but his legs felt weak. Dick's fingers only seemed to dig that much deeper inside, just the right amount of pressure to make it sting without being unbearable—just the way Damian liked it.

Bruce was too close now. Realizing there was no way to convince Dick to stop, Damian propped up his arms on the large sill and rested his chin in his hands. Like he was just casually looking out the window, enjoying the breeze.

"What are you doing?" Bruce said once he was close enough. Straight to the point.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek when his cock buried particularly deep in Dick's mouth.

"Nothing," Damian managed.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. "Nothing?"

"Just…" Damian said, trailing off when suddenly, he felt another one of Dick's fingers stroking over his entrance. Wait, he wasn't going to—Damian stopped, refocusing on the conversation with his father. "I'm just enjoying the weather."

His heart started to beat faster, breath shortening, as a third finger began to prod at his entrance. Not now. Not now. Not now.

Damian's eyes squeezed shut when three fingers pushed themselves in. He clenched his jaw tight to prevent any noise. Fuck. Dick's digits were absolutely stretchint, filling Damian so good, and Dick's mouth was so hot and wet—fuck, Damian wanted to come so bad, but when he reopened his eyes his father was still standing there.

"You should come outside. Join me and Titus," Bruce said.

Voice breathy and filled with desire, Damian scrambled for any excuse to not speak. He diverted the conversation, "What are your plans for today?"

Dick was sucking on his cock, his expert mouth and tongue massaging Damian at a steady pace. His fingers began to thrust in Damian, the pace less forgiving, moving in deep and hard. Damian barely listened to Bruce, simply staring at his father with a blank, dazed expression as the man droned on, trying to restrain all emotion from his face as Dick fingered him harder. Faster.

The stretch of his hole around Dick's fingers felt amazingly good. It was getting harder to control himself. His legs were spreading for more, the flush on his face undeniable, his nipples erect underneath his shirt. He wanted to come. He'd been waiting to come.

As if sensing Damian's need, Dick began to curl his fingers, making Damian actually gasp.

Bruce paused in the middle of his rambling.

Damian scrambled to remember the last words Bruce spoke.

"I just remembered that I never put away the training equipment," Damian lied.

"Oh. That's fine, I'm sure Alfred put it back," Bruce said. He continued, "And then around 18:00, we'll probably have dinner—"

Damian's fists began to tighten. He squirmed underneath Dick's ministrations, hips jerking between Dick's mouth and his fingers. It felt good. It felt too fucking good. Dick suddenly swallowed Damian deep, his throat tightening around the tip of Damian's cock, his entire length enveloped in wet heat. Damian's mouth parted with a silent gasp. Dick held Damian there, arm pinned around him. He was finger-fucking him deeper now. Faster. The stretch of his hole around three fingers maddening.

He was going to come. He was going to come.

Damian's face burned as he watched his father, waiting for him to leave. Trying to hold off on his orgasm until he was gone. But the man just would not shut up and Grayson wouldn't fucking relent and Damian's head was spinning.

His eyes burned with tears of frustration. Every part of his body clenched up. He couldn't come. He couldn't. If he came in front of his father, he'd be absolutely mortified.

But Dick's throat felt so good. Lips vibrating against his cock as he hummed. Damian felt so trapped and the complete loss of control was getting to his head. Dick was going to keep fingering him and there was nothing Damian could do about it. The fingers were brushing against his prostate now. Damian was trembling, absolutely trembling, the heat of his climax steadily building in his groin.

He struggled against Dick, trying to get him to stop, to wait, but both the window and Dick's free arm kept him pinned in place. His fingers seemed to thrust that much faster, now hitting his prostate over and over.

Heat rushed through Damian's body. His mouth parted, the pink of his tongue visible as he panted in front of his father. His vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.

He was going to come. But he didn't want to. Not with his father right there, looking directly at him, not even a few feet away.

Damian struggled to say something, to get his father to leave, but a strange sound just escaped his throat, and now Bruce was looking at him in confusion.

Shit. Fuck. He was looking right at him.

But damn it all, he wanted to come.

He'd been waiting for it.

His sense of priorities went askew. He knew it'd be better to just resist, to hold back until his father was gone, but his body kept screaming at him, telling him that it'd be better, more satisfying, to just let go.

Unable to resist, he did.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his long moan. His eyes squeezing shut, entire body shuddering as he spilled his seed inside of Dick's mouth. Richard wasn't stopping, he wasn't stopping—hot mouth still wrapped around Damian's cock, fingers still buried deep in his ass and—fuck, he's swallowing it. His lips massaging Damian's sensitive cock as he suckled it all down and it was crude and disgusting and—

Damian finally removed his hand and breathed, pleasure still racing around his lower half, face flushed and eyes burning. He tried to catch his breath, deep humiliation gnawing at him. Shame for not being able to hold himself back. Embarrassed that he had just climaxed in front of his father.

Damian dared to look up, swallowing his shame. Bruce just looked concerned by Damian's sudden outburst.

"Damian, are you okay? What happened? Are you feeling well—"

Bruce's hand moved to check on Damian, presumably to feel his face for a temperature—and that's when Damian regained his senses, suddenly alert.

Fuck no, there was no way he was going to let his father touch him now.

"I think Titus is chasing that squirrel toward the fence!" Damian said quickly. Bruce turned his head.

He was partially right. Titus was running around the yard, but who knows if he was actually heading toward the fence or just spinning in circles like he tended to do.

"I'll go check on him," Bruce said anyways. He walked off. "I'll talk to you later."

Damian finally breathed when Dick removed his mouth and hands.

"Grayson, you fucking bastard—"Damian said, his breath still short, once Bruce was out of earshot. He could hear Dick moving around, getting back up, so who knows if he was even listening. Damian clenched his fists on the sill. He couldn't fight back the blush on his face, the humiliation. He kept replaying the scene in his head over and over again, wondering how much of a fool he seemed in his father's eyes. "I'll fucking—once I'm free—"

Damian's sputtering was cut off when he felt something pushing up against his hole. Momentary disbelief filled his head—there was no way Richard was—he just came—

Damian let out a short cry as Dick's cock pressed in, burying the head. Every nerve in Damian's body was electrifying, his body still sensitive from his orgasm. The cock inside of him even thicker, even hotter, than the fingers that made him climax.

"Stop," he gasped, body trembling. Legs weak and spread on either side of Richard, his toes curling and uncurling. Dick didn't stop. He shoved himself deeper and deeper, cock slowly sliding in.

Damian groaned as he felt Dick's hips meet his, his cock pushed impossibly deep. Even after Dick's fingers, Damian still felt so full.

"I can't believe you," Damian said, his nerves on fire, those frustrated tears now spilling. "I can't fucking believe you."

"What's wrong, Damian?" Dick said. And Damian ceased all at once, listening to Dick speak for the first time in awhile. He felt Dick's hands digging into his hips. Voice husky, words dark, Dick said, "Don't you like me mean?"

Damian blinked with shock, his own words finally coming back to bite him. Dick pulled back all the way before thrusting back in, his cock seeming to hit every nerve in Damian's body. Damian cried out all at once, nails digging into the ledge.

Dick held nothing back, gripping Damian hard, hard enough to bruise, as he pounded into him. The full length of his cock driving forward, pace brisk. Damian couldn't hold back his voice, could barely think.

"You certainly liked me sucking you off and fingering your ass," Dick said, voice mocking. "How'd it feel, coming like a proper slut in front of your own father?"

Dick talked a lot, but he never talked like this. His words seemed to drill into Damian's brain—as if because Dick was the one to say those words, there had to be some truth to it. Damian's face burned in embarrassment.

"If you like being watched so much, I could tie you up in the busiest part of Gotham," Dick suggested darkly, his hard thrusts almost punishing. "Then everyone could see you for who you truly are."

"Shut up," Damian breathed. He bristled with every word, decided he couldn't listen any longer. Dick's words were driving him crazy. He dug his nails into the sill. "Shut up."

But his words sounded pathetic, his voice so drowned in desire that it was pitiful. He wasn't a threat. He was pinned and Dick had taken control, subjecting him to all of his perversions. Controlling his orgasms and making him a desperate fool in front of his own father.

"You're awful mean to a lot of people, Robin. I'm sure Gotham would love to see you get knocked down a peg." Damian couldn't resist moaning at Dick's use of his moniker. Dick picked up on it, used it against him. A sharp hand landed on Damian's ass. "Is that what you want, Damian? To show everyone that you're nothing but a needy, cock-loving whore?"

Dick's hand reached around, grabbing Damian's erection. Damian hated how pitiful his voice sounded as he moaned. How desperate and weak and pathetic.

"You're hard just thinking about it, aren't you?" Dick said. Damian wanted to protest but the words escaped him. All he could focus on was Dick stroking him and riding his ass. "You're so proud and mighty until you're stuffed full, aren't you?"

It was degrading, but Damian believed it. His legs were spread, cock aching hard for release. He came once and wanted to come again. He felt like some type of wanton creature, pride shattered and subject to Dick's ministrations. Dick's hand glided over his leaking cock and Damian just took it, his body bent over and eager for every thrust against his prostate. Wanting to be filled up. Every movement of hot friction building him up, driving away his pride.

How could he argue when every sound out of him was a moan, begging for more?

Between Damian's unrestrained sounds of pleasure, he could catch hints of Dick's voice as well. Groans that sent shivers up Damian's spine. He could sense the erratic rhythm of Dick's pace, the bodies snapping together as Dick chased after his own pleasure. Damian knew him well enough to know he was going to come—and even though he had been waiting for Dick to finish, now he was suddenly worried.

His cock pulsed in Dick's hand—and then Dick took his hand back, grabbing Damian's hips to better angle his thrusts. Damian's breath hitched—there was no way Dick could leave him like this. Still riding off his sensitivity from earlier, Dick's fucking had made him hard. He would need to come again. He would need Dick to keep fucking him, to push him over the edge. He needed his cock inside him, needed that pleasure.

"Slow down," he managed to breathe. Not yet, he wanted to say.

But Dick wasn't listening. He didn't care, far too close to the edge to listen to reason.

Or maybe, Damian began to suspect, he wanted to. Wanted to come and leave Damian unfulfilled. To punish him.

The thought panicked Damian.

His heartbeat raced, Dick sliding in and out of him faster now. Almost urgently. Damian tried to convince himself that there was no way Richard was going to just leave him hanging. Dick always focused on Damian's needs, often before his own. But the way he grabbed onto Damian's hips, pulling him onto his shaft like a sleeve to fuck, felt uncharacteristically selfish. Dick let out a heated, familiar sound.

Face burning, Damian knew he had to concede. He resorted to at least saying, "Don't come inside." If Dick was going to leave him here, if he was going to punish him, Damian wouldn't be able to stand that last bit of shame. "Don't, please, fuck—"

With almost a vengeance, Dick buried himself as deep as he could go, hips pushing up against Damian's body. Damian gasped as Dick finished inside him, his thick, hot seed filling him, coating the sensitive, fucked raw walls. The sensation made Damian's eyes roll up, tremors going through his body as Dick unloaded in him. But while Dick sighed contentedly, Damian was left soiled and his cock aching.

The humiliation ran so deep that any biting words Damian might have had were silenced. He clenched his jaw shut when Dick pulled out, his essence beginning to drip from Damian's hole to his crease. Damian flinched when the tips of Dick's fingers pressed against his sac, catching the drop.

Damian tensed when Dick's fingers wiped alongside his crease, letting out a long, deep moan when those digits plunged inside of him. The fingers easily slipped into Damian's open hole, the sound of the fingers alongside Dick's ejaculate making a filthy sound. Damian's shame burned even brighter on his cheeks. The sound was perverse and disgusting. This couldn't have been his body making these sounds. It couldn't have been.

"Do you want to come?" Dick asked.

His fingers worked inside Damian, moving at a leisurely pace in comparison to the brutal fucking Damian just received. Damian whimpered pathetically as Dick expertly found his prostate, the pads of his fingers stroking over the spot repeatedly. Damian's chest heaved as Dick continually massaged over the spot, sexual frustration damn near bringing him to sobs. He struggled, body rocking against the sill, not sure whether he wanted Dick to keep pressing against the spot or if he wanted to get away—but his body was completely trapped in the wall and he had no choice but to take Dick's fingers.

When Dick's other hand wrapped around Damian's cock, Damian finally begged, "Yes. Please. Fuck, please."

The sounds of Dick's fingering filled Damian's ears. Dick's hands worked over him, each stroke building Damian higher. Heat pooling into his groin until finally, it all released. He cried out, his hips jerking as he came.

His orgasm was even more intense the first. Damian's whole body clenched up, tremors running through him as he spilled into Dick's hand. Dick stroked him through it, letting his hand fill up. Damian wouldn't be surprised if the entire manor heard his voice—the sound long and almost pained. He finally managed to bite his lip near the end, at the last moments of his orgasm. His body fell slack, his weight resting on the window ledge as he tried to catch his breath.

Dick at least had the kindness to make themselves decent again, cleaning up and redressing them. Dick even reattached Damian's belt.

Now that his orgasm had subsided, Damian went back to being annoyed—although his irritance was now slightly dampened by exhaustion.

"Are you happy now? Are you finally going to get me out of this damned thing—"Damian started to rant, when suddenly the window popped open.

Damian stopped, freezing in place. Stunned at the sudden relief of weight, to the point of disbelief, Damian almost didn't respond. Tentatively, he withdrew himself, feeling a crick in his spine as he straightened himself.

He just now noticed the lock on the top of the window.

He turned his head toward Dick, who was leaning against the wall, one hand propping the window up. A wry expression on his face.

"Look at that," Dick said flatly. He moved his hand, letting the window slide shut on its own. "I suddenly found my competence."

Damian's face went red.

The birds outside flew off, Alfred nearly spilled his tea, Bruce's pen slipped against the paper, Titus awoke from his nap, Batcow mooed unhappily in response, the cat ducked underneath the bed—all when a single voice disturbed the entire manor, screaming:

"I'm going to fucking kill you!"