“We can’t keep doing this Slade,” Dick hissed as he was pushed up against the cold, brick, alley wall. Slade pressed his knife into Nightwing’s suit. He was so close Dick could feel his breath on the top of his head. The older man was holding both of Dick’s arms above his head with his free had.
His cheek was bruised, along with his ribs. Nothing was seriously wrong, both of them made sure that didn’t really hurt the other. There was a cut on his calf, but he hit Slade just as hard.
“Can’t keep doing what, Little Bird?” Slade asked playing coy. He knew exactly what Dick meant by this.
“The fighting,” Dick told him, but that wasn’t all. He brought his foot back and kicked Slade in the shin. The short distraction was enough for the acrobat to free his hands. He switched they positions, pining Slade against the wall. He pulled the knife out of the anti-hero’s hand and threw it to the ground.
He got on his tip toes and whispered in to Slade’s ear. “And the after party.” He took the earlobe between his lips.
“I quite like our routine.” Slade griped the younger man’s waist. “Fight gets the adrenalin up, fucking makes it better.” His hand his hand down and groped his plump ass.
Dick let out a small moan in his ear. “This isn’t really healthy.” He moved the material of Slade’s suit away form his neck and started sucking at the now bare skin.
“I think it’s fine.” Slade said.
“Of course you do.” Dick said back.
They did so many times he lost count. They would fight, then fuck. Slade would stay the night, and they would chat, but it was nothing more than pillow talk. They had time for longer conversating during the day, when they were just a hero and a villain to most of the world.
Rose knew about their little arrangement. Dick didn’t want her to know, it wasn’t anything serious, and that fact wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Dick had trained her and had a lot of respect for Rose, he even considered her a friend.
But it was when Slade’s cock was sliding down the back of his throat that she decided to come home and visit her father. It’s safe to say that talk didn’t go very well, but after Dick explained, she decided to let them be adult and get their own shit together.
Both of them were consenting adult, and if she didn’t hear about it, Rose was fine with it.
Wintergreen also knew about them. Slade had told him. Billy always took care of Slade, and it made the two of them friends. Probably best friends. And like best friends do, Slade told him everything.
Jason also knew about it. The two of them were in Dick’s apartment re-watching Die Hard for the millionth time, when he choice to blurt out “I’m fuck buddy with Slade Willison.” The beer that had been in younger brother’s mouth had ended up on his floor. Jason only smirk at him and asked how good the sex was.
And it was. Good. Fucking. Sex.
He prayed to God that Bruce never, ever, found out. He hoped nobody in the League did. He could just see Superman’s disappointed face looking down at him.
He knew it wasn’t healthy what they were doing. Friends with benefits never work out the way it was supposed to. Somebody always caught feeling, and they always ended up with their heart broke in the end.
So, it had to end before he got feeling. Or before the feelings he already had became so much more.
“You can’t quite me.” Slade told him. One of his hands moved to the front of Dick’s suit. He started grinding in to the mercenary hand. “Just look at you.”
He huffed. “It’s self control really.” He explained. If he had any he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t keep looking out for Slade, he wouldn’t play this game.
But Slade was right. He couldn’t quit him.
Slade was his drug, and he was a junkie running after his first high.
But it wasn’t like that. Your first high is always the best, its what gets you hooked. Nothing is better than the first time. It was just something about Slade that keep it good. It never got old, at least not to him.
“Could you quite me?” He asked out of curiosity.
He groaned when Slade squeezed him though the fabric of his suit. He could feel the fabric becoming damp with precum, but he needed more then just a quick rub off in an alley.
“No Little Bird,” Slade admitted pulling his hand away, and Dick whined at the loss of contact. “I don’t think I could.”
Slade’s hand was back on his waist when he looked up and kissed him. “Your place or mine.”