Fic: Caught, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, R
Title: Caught
Pairing(s): Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Rating: R (listed as NC-17 at drabble365days because they don't have R and I think this would really be pushing it for PG-13)
Summary: I've forgotten what a good fighter he is without that damn cape. He's forgotten that I have a few kinks he hasn't discovered yet.
Warning(s): Breathplay, underage character in a sexual situation (I don't have a specific age in mind for Damian here but I pictured him as 15-ish while I was writing)
Word count: 400
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. It's probably better for everyone involved that I'm just playing in the sandbox.
Notes: Damian's POV for the First Person prompt at drabble365days .
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The edge of my boot gets caught in the crease between training mats, and Grayson’s on top of me before I can get halfway back to my feet. It’s a stupid mistake, the fault of an off-balance step backward that I could’ve easily avoided by remembering how much quicker he is when he’s not wearing a cape, and the most humiliating part is that he knows what an obvious error it was.
“Don’t underestimate me,” he says, as flatly as he can considering that he’s forcing the words out between rapid gasps of breath.
Yeah, rub it in, why don’t you. “Get off of me.” I grab him by the side of his collar and the outside of his sleeve and flip us up so I’m straddling his waist, but he’s got the height and weight advantage, and eventually he manages to roll us the rest of the way over so he’s on top of me again. And then he switches his grip on me from a legitimate hold to a simple choke. Right hand locked around my throat, left hand planted on the ground next to my head to support his weight as he leans forward.
I count at least six different ways I could incapacitate him from here. He’s not even pressing down on my neck.
“What are you-”
Now he is. I’m up to sixteen different moves-some cleaner than others-that I could use to get out of this, but the feeling of his palm less than an inch away from crushing my trachea is captivating in a way I can’t quite explain. Besides, he won’t permanently injure me. “This gets you hard?” he asks with the beginnings of a smile.
Obviously, he already knows the answer. So he’s being an asshole about something that gets me off; what else is new? “Yeah.”
He smirks at me.
Fine, Grayson, I’ll play. “Yeah, it... it does.” The pressure on my neck is just heavy enough that every word requires its own separate bit of effort to get out, and by the time I finish the sentence, he’s moved so he’s pretty much lying on top of me.
“What else?” he whispers right into my ear. I can’t see his face, but his cheek is burning hot against the side of my forehead.
You like this as much as I do, don’t you? Freak. “Choke me, Grayson.”
Pairing(s): Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Rating: R (listed as NC-17 at drabble365days because they don't have R and I think this would really be pushing it for PG-13)
Summary: I've forgotten what a good fighter he is without that damn cape. He's forgotten that I have a few kinks he hasn't discovered yet.
Warning(s): Breathplay, underage character in a sexual situation (I don't have a specific age in mind for Damian here but I pictured him as 15-ish while I was writing)
Word count: 400
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. It's probably better for everyone involved that I'm just playing in the sandbox.
Notes: Damian's POV for the First Person prompt at drabble365days .
+++++
The edge of my boot gets caught in the crease between training mats, and Grayson’s on top of me before I can get halfway back to my feet. It’s a stupid mistake, the fault of an off-balance step backward that I could’ve easily avoided by remembering how much quicker he is when he’s not wearing a cape, and the most humiliating part is that he knows what an obvious error it was.
“Don’t underestimate me,” he says, as flatly as he can considering that he’s forcing the words out between rapid gasps of breath.
Yeah, rub it in, why don’t you. “Get off of me.” I grab him by the side of his collar and the outside of his sleeve and flip us up so I’m straddling his waist, but he’s got the height and weight advantage, and eventually he manages to roll us the rest of the way over so he’s on top of me again. And then he switches his grip on me from a legitimate hold to a simple choke. Right hand locked around my throat, left hand planted on the ground next to my head to support his weight as he leans forward.
I count at least six different ways I could incapacitate him from here. He’s not even pressing down on my neck.
“What are you-”
Now he is. I’m up to sixteen different moves-some cleaner than others-that I could use to get out of this, but the feeling of his palm less than an inch away from crushing my trachea is captivating in a way I can’t quite explain. Besides, he won’t permanently injure me. “This gets you hard?” he asks with the beginnings of a smile.
Obviously, he already knows the answer. So he’s being an asshole about something that gets me off; what else is new? “Yeah.”
He smirks at me.
Fine, Grayson, I’ll play. “Yeah, it... it does.” The pressure on my neck is just heavy enough that every word requires its own separate bit of effort to get out, and by the time I finish the sentence, he’s moved so he’s pretty much lying on top of me.
“What else?” he whispers right into my ear. I can’t see his face, but his cheek is burning hot against the side of my forehead.
You like this as much as I do, don’t you? Freak. “Choke me, Grayson.”