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Missing the Touch

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There was just something altogether infuriating about the kid.

He was a good actor and still Midnighter could always tell, despite disguises, despite his face being hidden with the help of the Hypnos implant even, when it was him. It wasn't only the fine ass that gave him away, even if that was what he had been telling the kid before. And, well, he would recognize an exceptional ass like that anywhere. Who wouldn't? He would place a sure bet on the fact that Dick Grayson's shapely behind could make heterosexual men swoon.

Not that he was about to tell the kid what he was thinking. “You're an idiot,” he said instead by way of greeting. It was his way of telling him that his body language, something in his stance, something about the way he handled situations, playing dangerous, but not going for the kill, just screamed “Dick Grayson” to anyone who was smart enough to listen.

Grayson deactivated the Hypnos to show his face and didn't even frown.

That was just annoying. He liked making the kid frown.

But not much could actually faze the kid. And with someone who was this stupidly expressive, so open when he shouldn't be open, that just seemed plain wrong. Not much made sense with Grayson though, and maybe that was why this felt so wrong.

Or right.

He had not yet made up his mind which it was exactly.

"Look," Grayson said, "you stumble into my path and call me an idiot every single time. Doesn't that get a bit boring, old man?"

He snorted. Grayson was much better with trading blows than he was with the insults. At least he was when it came to Midnighter. He knew he was meaner at the insult part with the right dance partner, too. But for them this wasn't exactly the dance they were dancing.

Not anymore.

"Will you be missed?"

"In a while," Grayson said with a deceptively light tone and started walking forward, leading the way. Recently there was no need to ask any questions between them. It had all become very straight forward and easy. Too easy considering the people who were involved in this. Too easy considering the kid he was doing it with.

They didn't even remark on the fact that they had planned for this, planned without agreeing on details or place and time. But the fact that they were in a ghost town, or at least in an area where all the houses had been abandoned and they still knew into which entrance to stumble wasn't coincidence and they both knew it, as Midnighter finally reached for the annoying kid and made sure he wouldn't dare ask or say anything stupid, anything sweet or annoyingly sentimental by kissing him squarely on the lips, pushing him up against the wall.

Grayson's lips answered in kind, hungry for more, even though he started this out much more aggressive than necessary. His leg trapped him against the wall, his knee deliberately placed between the young man's lithe but strong legs and touching, pressing hard, against the already forming erection there. A strangled moan escaped the kid, muffled by their kiss. It went right into his own crotch, urging him on.

They stumbled up the stairs without stopping, crashing against the balustrade harder than necessary, nearly falling down together at the top of the stairs. But they caught their balance, Midnighter already hopping through all the steps in his mind, knowing all the outcomes that would lead to a a satisfying end for himself. He wasn't against some rough foreplay, some cuts and bruises here and there. The kid, he knew from experience, wore bruises incredibly well. But today he just wanted this to be uncomplicated. Together they nearly fall into an open doorway, into the haphazardly made up bed that's waiting for them there in the empty rooms of a former flat.

The imperfection, the darkness and grimy feel of it all was fitting.

Grayson gasped as he pushed him down onto the mattress.

“Eager?” he asked and grinned.

The blue eyes narrow slightly and just for a second. It was hard to tell sometimes if the kid was too soft for this world, or if he was hiding steel.

He lost his heavy coat, dropping it on the floor haphazardly. He had already decided not to lose the mask today, not if Grayson didn't push for it. The kid was already pushing up deceptively light material of his agent uniform shirt. Midnighter caught his hand, stopped his movement, running a leather covered hand over the taught, exposed stomach. The muscles under his fingers moved, froze up and relaxed. Grayson held his breath, held himself still, strung up like a big cat ready to pounce.


He nearly grabbed him, pulling him up for another kiss, as aggressive and demanding as the first.

Strong arms clung to him as they maneuvered down onto the bed, wrestling clothes our of the way, dropping weapons to the side. The kid was always reveling in the feel of skin against skin. It reminded Midnighter so much – too much – of Apollo, sweet, strong, perfect Apollo, even if he chose to be with Grayson precisely because he was nothing like Apollo.

When he held him down, Grayson squirmed and writhed against the clean, but untidy sheets and said: “Come on!”

“Don't rush me, kid. Adults need to take their time.”

Grayson nearly glared at him, blue eyes somewhat darker than usual and it was just irresistible, loosing himself in the feel and smell of it. Pressing the kid down against the bed and holding him there, letting himself be touched and kissed and urged on. The rush was as perfect as the lithe and flexible body beneath him.

Their eyes met as they came, close enough together to make it seem like it was happening at the same time.

Perfection, such imperfect perfection, he thought, as pleasure was rushing through him. It didn't matter that he was yearning for someone else. It didn't matter that the kid was just yearning for some uncomplicated human connection, that he was probably thinking of someone who was far away, unreachable to him, too. They were both looking for something to take away the loneliness.

It couldn't be less ideal, couldn't be more perfect. He stroked the soft black hair and the kid kissed the inside of his right wrist, as the both of them lay there, tangled around each other, holding on, touching and coming down from the high. “You could do better,” Midnighter said, and was half convinced he was speaking to the Apollo in his mind, surprised to find that, no, he was actually meaning to tell this to the idiot kid.

“Not right now,” Grayson said, still breathing heavily. “Not.. right now.” He kissed him this time, softer than the kisses Midnighter had pulled him into, still not exactly tender or loving, full of lust and joy and life – and wasn't that just exactly right? “I seem to have a thing for people who call me idiot lately,” the kid admitted as he pulled away to get dressed.

But there was something else in his eyes.

They were both missing a life that had recently ended, that they couldn't, wouldn't go back to any time soon.

“Alright,” he said gruffly. “I'm not complaining.” He sat up on the edge of the bed and watched the kid dress with efficiency, quick movements and attention to detail. It was another detail about Grayson that made as much sense as it didn't.

“You better not be,” he mumbled as he bent down to kiss him one last time, like he was saying goodbye. He picked up his coat for him, dropping it beside him, beside the mess they'd made on the bed. “See you,” he said with a slight salute. “Got to go.”

“Don't fall down the stairs and kill yourself,” he called after him, surly, not sure he liked that the kid was unfazed and light on his feet so soon after what they'd just done here. That soft final kiss was still lingering on his lips.

There were nos strings, he thought. He was still not convinced the kid actually knew it, although he acted like he did. No strings. And that was good. It was what both of them needed.

And still he knew he'd see the kid again. Soon.