DC Comics: Clark Kent/Dick Grayson
Title: Cotton Candy Clouds
Fandom: DC Comics
Pairing: Dick/Clark
Theme: #01 Clouds
Rating: PG-13
Words: 443
Back when Dick was a kid, he used to believe clouds were made of cotton candy. His parents would smile fondly, with a loving hand on his shoulder or in his hair, and tell him that if he flew high enough, maybe one day he’d get to taste the clouds for himself.
Flying on a trapeze never quite got him high enough, but these days he has a little help.
Clark feels solid and warm between Dick’s thighs, and maybe it’s not entirely necessary for him to wrap his legs around Clark’s waist. Clark can hold him up just fine without that extra bit of leverage. But Clark isn’t complaining, not in the slightest, one thick huge hand splayed against the small of Dick’s back to keep him balanced as he watches Dick with smiling eyes.
The other hand palms Dick’s ass, and he squirms down against it, just to make Clark squeeze.
Clouds don’t actually taste like cotton candy. They don’t really taste of anything, they just leave a cold damp sheen over Dick’s face, over his uniform. But it’s not the clouds that hold the appeal anymore, not when there’s Clark’s skin to press his lips to. Licking a line up that tanned neck, enjoying the way Clark bounces him a little as he pulls Dick in closer.
Clark’s hand slides up his back, moves over his shoulder, and Dick shifts his weight, keeping himself held up with his legs and the grip he has on Clark’s cape. Times like this, he kind of misses his own cape, because back when Clark used to take him flying as Robin, feeling the wind snap the fabric out around him was the most amazing feeling.
Of course, things were a little more innocent, back in those days.
When Clark’s hand frames Dick’s jaw, he turns his head, slides his lips over the warm palm. Opens his mouth around two of Clark’s fingers, sucking them playfully, and who cares about cotton candy clouds when they’ve got the taste of Clark’s heat against their tongue.
Clark’s eyes get that hint of purple around the edges of the blue, like it’s taking actual effort to hold the heat vision at bay, and Dick groans and bites down a little. Watching Clark’s eyes flare bright for just a moment, and Clark’s control is absolute, Dick trusts in it implicitly, but the imagined threat is still sexy as hell.
Because up here there are no inhibitions, no expectations. It’s just them, alone in the endless sky, and Dick moans and grinds himself against Clark’s stomach. Feeling Clark pet his tongue, lips pulling around Clark’s fingers as he smiles.
Fandom: DC Comics
Pairing: Dick/Clark
Theme: #01 Clouds
Rating: PG-13
Words: 443
Back when Dick was a kid, he used to believe clouds were made of cotton candy. His parents would smile fondly, with a loving hand on his shoulder or in his hair, and tell him that if he flew high enough, maybe one day he’d get to taste the clouds for himself.
Flying on a trapeze never quite got him high enough, but these days he has a little help.
Clark feels solid and warm between Dick’s thighs, and maybe it’s not entirely necessary for him to wrap his legs around Clark’s waist. Clark can hold him up just fine without that extra bit of leverage. But Clark isn’t complaining, not in the slightest, one thick huge hand splayed against the small of Dick’s back to keep him balanced as he watches Dick with smiling eyes.
The other hand palms Dick’s ass, and he squirms down against it, just to make Clark squeeze.
Clouds don’t actually taste like cotton candy. They don’t really taste of anything, they just leave a cold damp sheen over Dick’s face, over his uniform. But it’s not the clouds that hold the appeal anymore, not when there’s Clark’s skin to press his lips to. Licking a line up that tanned neck, enjoying the way Clark bounces him a little as he pulls Dick in closer.
Clark’s hand slides up his back, moves over his shoulder, and Dick shifts his weight, keeping himself held up with his legs and the grip he has on Clark’s cape. Times like this, he kind of misses his own cape, because back when Clark used to take him flying as Robin, feeling the wind snap the fabric out around him was the most amazing feeling.
Of course, things were a little more innocent, back in those days.
When Clark’s hand frames Dick’s jaw, he turns his head, slides his lips over the warm palm. Opens his mouth around two of Clark’s fingers, sucking them playfully, and who cares about cotton candy clouds when they’ve got the taste of Clark’s heat against their tongue.
Clark’s eyes get that hint of purple around the edges of the blue, like it’s taking actual effort to hold the heat vision at bay, and Dick groans and bites down a little. Watching Clark’s eyes flare bright for just a moment, and Clark’s control is absolute, Dick trusts in it implicitly, but the imagined threat is still sexy as hell.
Because up here there are no inhibitions, no expectations. It’s just them, alone in the endless sky, and Dick moans and grinds himself against Clark’s stomach. Feeling Clark pet his tongue, lips pulling around Clark’s fingers as he smiles.