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Remorse Makes No Sound

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The smell of the whole room intoxicates him.


It’s too hot for his comfort but Bruce’s moan keeps him in place.


The other man’s pulse pounds in tune with the waves of hunger Dick feels grow with each second they stay together.


“Dick, what?”  Bruce says. The confusion on his face is so palatable, so human, so vulnerable that Dick can taste it with each glance.  


Can taste it with each shaky breath that seems to amplify and echo in his mind. 


“Give me your all,” Dick whispers.  He feels the arms he’s holding flex to be free.  Smells the potent mix of arousal and fear.


He wants to roll himself in it.  To cover himself in the scent.  To breath it in every moment his heart doesn’t beat.  Every moment he feels the dark shadow of loneliness looming above him.


“I don’t… understand,” Bruce frowns up at him.  His eyes are dilated, pupils blown so wide that his light blue iris forms a bright ring around that inky darkness.


“Shhh,” Dick caresses his jaw, “it doesn’t matter.”


None of it mattered.  Bruce’s mind will rationalize this as a dream.


He kisses his way up a tense neck, hears the answering intake of breath.


He feels Bruce’s cock shift against his thigh.  Rubs his thigh faster to feel Bruce harden more and more with the attention.


None of it mattered.


Dick looks up from the collarbone he’s working to mark.  Smiles with satisfaction at the dark mark he knows will be there for days.


“Dick…” Bruce pants and Dick wishes he could let his control go.  To let Bruce raise those callused hands to move against him, on him, in him.  But he can’t. 


The moment he does, everything would be over.


“Just let me,” Dick kisses a pert nipple.  Rolls his tongue against it, takes it in his mouth, pulls, and bites around the areola hard enough to draw blood.  Bruce’s whole body flinches from the pain, his will too far gone to block the sensation.


None of it matters.


Dick licks the punctures he’s made once and feeds.  He’s surprised the coppery taste is nothing special, but the sweat that flavors and marks it as nothing but Bruce makes him wonder how he’ll feed on any other.


The blood now coursing through his body makes him feel hyper sensitive.  Each brush of Bruce’s body hair raises goose pimples on his flesh, stirs his cock to action.  With mouth still firmly attached, Dick takes a whiff.  Feels himself rising with the pleasant smell of his and Bruce’s arousal and musk mixing.


The sensation of warm blood and Bruce’s twitching erection moves his hips into action, humping a well built thigh.  The anticipation of what’s to come forces him to suck harder, just enough for him to be warm, to be able to feel everything that they’re about to do. 


Dick licks one last time and watches skin knit right before his eyes.  Fights the feeling to bite once again, but this time let human biology do the healing.  Fights the urge to add to Bruce’s body, littered with scars he does and doesn’t know.


Head down over Bruce’s chest, listening to the rapid pound of the older man’s heart, Dick fights the desire coiling in the pit of his stomach.  Forces it to join the other cravings he’s locked up.


He takes an unnecessary, but pleasurable breath, kisses over Bruce’s heart and sits up.  He rests on his calves and observes his work with satisfaction.


Erection straining, Bruce looks as aroused as Dick feels.  His body a rosy flush that Dick finds deliriously endearing.  His face looks feverish; eyes shining but unfocused, mouth opening and closing in a fashion Dick has never seen before.  Bruce’s chest rapidly rises and falls with each panting breath.  His hands, now out of Dick’s firm grip, grasping at air.


This should feel wrong.  Not feel, it should be wrong, Dick corrects himself.


“I want you,” he kisses Bruce on the lips and opens the tube of lube.


The scent clashes with everything he’s been smelling.  It distracts him a little, disconnects his control over the other man.  He sees Bruce’s face start clearing.  Curses and pats the older man’s abs to make Bruce look his way.


With complete eye contact, he sends desire and need and submission to the bewildered man. 


Dick kisses Bruce again and kneels over the older man. 


He’s always looked at Bruce’s penis discretely.  Even when the man himself didn’t care, or never noticed, Dick has always looked at it with fast glances, hidden

within his hurried talking. 


But now he can look at it with no shame, memorize each detail that no one but Bruce’s female lovers has ever seen.  No one but his female lovers has ever touched.


With a bit of lube, his hand closes around Bruce’s cock and squeezes a little.  Appreciates the halt in Bruce’s breathing with each pump and squeeze.


He wishes he could lose himself to the soft hardness in his hand.  Wishes he could taste and catalogue every nuance in that taste.  But he stops himself.


He hopes one day to share that with Bruce.


The lube’s still cold as Dick pushes two fingers into himself.


He’s done this before.  Not for anyone his family knows, despite his lust for many of their superhero comrades.  He’s done it for nameless men he’d lured into bed the first year away from the batcave.  He’s done it wearing the domino mask, wishing the body was the hardness he’s watched move countless of times over women he hated on principle. 


He looks at chiseled features normally stoic with purpose, withdraws his hand and positions himself over Bruce’s erection.


“I want you so much,” he takes it all in with one agonizingly slow thrust.  Feels protesting jolts of pain but doesn’t care.  Pulls himself up to slowly slide back down.


He spends moments adjusting to the feel of it, to the slide of Bruce’s cock against his hole, to the sensation of Bruce’s balls against his ass.  He memorizes the feeling in his chest every time Bruce looks down, uncontrolled, to where they’re joined.  Savors the groan that vibrates Bruce’s whole frame. 


“I’ve always wanted you,” he bounces himself faster.  Fast enough that he feels the burn of muscles unprepared for vigorous abuse from something so big. 


The slapping sound of flesh against flesh is so obscene he wonders if it carries through the walls. 


Decides the sound isn’t loud enough and goes faster, harsher, harder, deeper.  Just enough to leave marks on him but not enough to hurt Bruce.


But he makes a frustrated noise.


It isn’t enough. 


None of it is enough. 


He second guesses himself.




He can’t do this.


He shouldn’t have done this.


He’s about to move away when hands land on his hips, keeps him grounded, and moves him.


He’s lost control somewhere along the way.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.


Dick looks up to clear blue eyes full of want, love, and regret. 


Looks up with his heart breaking because that one look says it all.

Just this once.

Just this once.