Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice.
A/N: This is the second part of my Pretty Boys series with my OTP: Superboy/Nightwing. This takes place during the time jump so Dick's going to be about eighteen.

Summary: Conner won't mind surrendering this once.
Warnings: yaoi, smut, cross-dressing, angst, Bottom-Conner

Xxx

The mission was supposed to go without a hitch; that's what Batman said.

No one expected a fire to break out.

Explosion, heat, screaming, crackling of wood as it splintered beneath the flames, the shattering of glass as M'gann's body was chucked through a window, Dick's body being crushed by a burning beam.

Nothing.

Xxx

When Conner came to, the world was blurry, and M'gann was slowly coming out of unconscious. There was nothing left of the warehouse but a charred, wooden skeleton, and there was the stench of burnt wood and flesh. There was something beneath a beam; something burnt and moaning, something clawing at the ground . . . something with black hair and eyes the color of the moon reflected on a lake . . .

Dick.

Conner ran over, shifted through the wood, and he couldn't feel the heat of the embers and wood on his hands. Dick was on the ground, and his back was burnt to hell; the skin black and red, bubbling, festering. The smell . . . the smell . . .

"Con . . . ner . . . ?"

Dick's voice was hoarse and soft, and when Conner looked at him, he didn't see Nightwing. He saw Robin, Dick, thirteen-years-old; his eyes glistening with tears he was trying to hold in, and his hand searched the ground for Conner's knee. Conner took Dick's hand in his, and Dick gripped it tight, like it was his lifeline.

Conner could hear the fluttering of capes, Batman's voice as he called to the other League members, Robin and Batgirl calling for Nightwing, Superman calling his name.

"We're over here!" Conner's voice sounded small, even to himself.

Xxx

M'gann came out with mild lacerations and a mild concussion, but Dick's back . . . It was like it had been made out of candlewax, angry red scars littering the area like claw marks. There was a chance that they could get infected, and they bubbled and bled, leaked puss.

Conner had never seen Dick cry, but as he was sitting in one of many the recovery rooms in the Watchtower, trying to breathe through his mouth so he wouldn't smell the stench of medicine and ammonia, stroking Dick's hand and whispering to him, he leaned close to ear, and that's when he smelled it. A bitter salt, and when he ran his knuckles on the back of Dick's cheek, wetness glistened on his gloves.

"Dick?"

". . . It hurts, Conner."

". . ."

Conner couldn't say "I know," because he didn't know what it was like to be in this kind of pain. He guessed the closest he would come is when Dick had exposed that rock of Kryptonite to him as he held Superman. That pain had been intense, deep in his bones, throbbing through his head, zapping his strength and turning his blood to liquid fire in his veins, turning the air into hot pea soup as he tried to breathe . . . but that pain had ended almost as soon as Dick closed the lead-lined box.

Dick's pain would last for weeks, months if the wounds got infected.

Conner wanted to be like Superman; he wanted to protect them and keep them safe, but as he stared at the wounds as Dick's back, smelled the burnt flesh mixed with medicine, he knew he couldn't protect Dick from this pain.

Anger bubbled up in his chest, and as Dick fell asleep, he left the room in a hurry, brushing past Superman as he headed toward the Zeta-platform.

Xxx

When Dick returned, he acted as if nothing happened. His demeanor returned, and he spoke with the air of confidence that he'd gained since he became Nightwing. His smile was back, and his laugh had returned, but there was something . . . different.

Every once in a while, he'd grimace in pain, grit his teeth. He'd lean against the counter in the kitchen, breath heavily for a few seconds and then straighten. Once, Conner had walked into the kitchen and saw Dick pop two white pills into his mouth and swallow them dry. They were pain pills no doubt, and he hid them behind pots and pans so even M'gann wouldn't find them.

He was in pain, but he didn't want to show it.

Xxx

"You're in pain."

"I'm fine, Conner."

"You don't have to hide it from us. We want to help you."

"I already told you I'm fine."

"You say that, but I know you don't mean it."

"Conner . . ."

"Let me in, Dick. Please."

". . . I have to go. It's my shift in Gotham tonight."

"Dick, wait!"

The hum of the Zeta-tube, the female voice of the computer reading of Dick's hero name and number, Dick disappearing into a bright light and then there was nothing but quiet.

Xxx

Dick used to love wearing dresses and shirts that showed his back because he knew how much Conner loved it. Conner would never admit that he had a back fetish, but there was something about the way Dick's skin glistened, the smooth expanse of flesh stretched over svelte shoulder blades, the way the bones shifted beneath his flesh like trapped wings . . .

They were going out to the movies today, and when Dick stepped into Mount Justice, Conner knew something was wrong. Dick was in a navy-blue sundress dress with white wedge sandals and thin sleeves, the back zipped up.

"Are you ready to go?" Dick asked, and his smile wasn't as bright.

"The dress . . ."

"You don't like it?"

"No, that's not it, but you've covered up your back."

". . . I wanted to try something new."

"I see. . ."

The date wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but it wasn't like all the other dates that Dick and Conner had had together.

In the darkness of the movie theater, Conner had kissed Dick, ran his hand up the Dick's legs, across his thighs, rubbed at the bulge in the thong that Dick wore. He cupped Dick's ass, gently squeezed at the mounds of warm flesh. He'd started to pull the zipper down on Dick's dress, when Dick squirmed slightly so Conner's hand would fall away. Conner pulled away, and Dick's eyes widened. His lips were red and kiss-swollen, and his eyes were glassy with arousal.

"Why'd you stop?" Dick ground his hips down, and Conner moaned as he felt Dick's hard cock in his hand, the wetness of the thong.

"It's—it's nothing."

Dick smiled, reached down between his legs and slipped Conner's hand under the elastic of the thong.

"C'mon then, lover-boy, can't you feel how wet I've gotten?"

Xxx

When they made love, Dick was always on his back. Conner didn't mind, not really, but he remembered when Dick was on his hands and knees, rocking back to meet Conner's thrust, looking over his shoulder to give Conner a sly smile, kissing him long and wet, stealing his breath. . .

Xxx

Despite his outer persona, Conner did have a romantic side, and he wanted to do something special. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there were only two other people who knew Dick better than he did.

Barbara Gordon and Tim Drake.

Conner would never forget the looks on their faces when he asked for their help, and he knew he'd never live it down.

Xxx

"Dick?"

"Conner? How'd you get on this communicator line?"

"My secret."

". . . Tim?"

"Yeah."

A sigh followed by:

"What is it?"

"Are you almost done with your shift?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Come to Mount Justice. I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

A laugh:

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. Just get here."

The click as Conner disconnected from the line.

Xxx

Smooth gold skin and black lace.

Conner stood in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the door, arms folded across his bare chest. There was a slight smirk in his face, and he was naked except for a pair of black fishnet stockings and black lace underwear that cupped his soft cock.

Dick's mouth was completely dry, and his mind was racing.

"Aren't you going to come in?" Conner's voice interrupted his Dick's thoughts. Conner had extended his hand, and Dick's body was completely on auto-pilot when he put his hand into Conner's.

Xxx

Conner ran his hands over Dick's chest, arms, back. He felt Dick tense, but Conner nipped at his ear and gently laved at the stinging flesh. His hands found the button and the zipper, and he slowly slid the zipper down. He heard Dick make a noise of protest, but Conner nuzzled his neck and gently kissed his fluttering pulse.

"Trust me," Conner whispered, and he slipped hands beneath the split seam of Dick's costume.

He felt the raised scars, the rough tissue of healed burns and lacerations; he hit smooth, hot skin that eventually melded into scar tissue. Dick's shoulder blades were smooth and damp with sweat beneath Conner's hands, and Conner ran his thumb down the length of Dick's spine to stop at the swell of his ass. He gently needed Dick's ass with his fingers, slipped a finger down the crack of his ass and rubbed at Dick's entrance. Dick moaned, and his knees gave out, but Conner gently maneuvered him over to the bed and laid him down on his back. He looked down at Dick, smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Today's your lucky day, Dick. You get to be top tonight." Conner moved next to Dick and lay down on his back. Dick quickly rolled over, and pulled the underwear down just enough to that they slipped over Conner's ass. Conner's erection strained against the underwear, and as he spread his legs, the fabric rubbed against his sensitive erection. He moaned, and Dick ran one hand over Conner's chest, leaning over to kiss a dusky nipple, gently licking and sucking at it.

He moved down Conner's chest and stomach, avoiding his erection and kissing Conner's thighs, gently nipping at the skin that was pressed against the cut-out diamonds. He moved between Conner's legs and pulled the underwear down halfway Conner's thighs, and he slowly lapped at Conner's balls, carefully nipping and sucking them. Conner moaned and bucked up against Dick, but Dick held him down by the hips went down to his entrance. His tongue was wet and hot as it slowly entered Conner's body; it was soon joined by one of Dick's fingers.

"F-fuck," Conner hissed and he somehow managed to move a hand into Dick's hair and grip at his hair.

Dick hummed, slowly stretching him with his tongue and fingers. Conner felt like he was just about ready to black out when Dick pulled out. He whimpered at the loss, but then the underwear were cast off, Conner groaned as he felt something large and hot enter his body. He arched up, head thrown back.

Holy shit! Whoever had given Dick his genetic genes was a good and generous man. Dick was hard, not long necessarily, but large. Conner felt himself stretching, muscles tightening around Dick's member, and wanted Dick to move so fucking bad.

He dug his heels into the back of Dick's thighs and shifted his hips.

"Fucking move," Conner growled, and Dick braced his arms as he slowly started to thrust.

Dick's thrusts quickly gained speed, jamming Conner in his prostate with every thrust, and Conner's hands flailed for a brief minute before they rested on Dick's back, nails digging into the skin. Conner could feel the muscles in Dick's back clenching and unclenching even beneath the scars. Dick's body was covered in sweat, mouth slightly parted, and his eyes were bright with arousal and adrenaline.

Conner felt his release building, and he pulled Dick into a kiss, tasting chocolate, the chalky aftertaste of the pills and mint toothpaste.

Then there was nothing but hot blackness and a ringing in his ears.

Xxx

When Conner came to, Dick was still inside him and kissing his neck and chest. Conner ran his fingers through Dick's hair and smiled up at him, running his hands over Dick's neck and back. Dick didn't try to pull away. Instead, he gave him a chaste kiss on his lips and nuzzled his neck.

They fell asleep, Conner running his hands up and down Dick's back.

Xxx

The next time they went out, they went to the beach, and Dick was dressed in a backless red shirt with a red skirt. Conner kissed every layer of skin, memorized every dip and scar.

When Dick smiled at him, Conner knew everything was going to be okay.