Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce/Dick, Alfred
Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Summary: A saucy Robin is injured while on patrol with Batman and Superman.
Date Of Completion: December 4, 2011
Date Of Posting: December 29, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1818
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for my 2011 LJ Fifth Anniversary Fic Request Meme (Build-A-Fic). Pairing/Threesome: Clark/Bruce/Dick. Prompts: Hurt/Comfort, Chocolate Mousse/Pudding, Soup/Stew.
Bubbling like stew
Me and you,
"The Morning’s Joy"
Dick was the Light of Wayne Manor and of Bruce’s heart.
Bruce sometimes wondered what life would be like if this force of Nature had never come into his life. He pushed the thought away. It was too depressing to think about.
For someone known as dark and grumpy he was inevitably attracted to bright and sassy. When he had also fallen for Clark, he felt like he was bracketed by twin suns.
Loving Clark and Dick was easy and hard. It was easy because they were so easy to love, and hard because he found it difficult to express his feelings, but he loved them both with all of his heart.
Bruce was looking forward to patrol tonight as he came home from an interminably boring Wayne Enterprises meeting. As he entered the foyer, Dick emerged from the kitchen eating chocolate mousse from a long-stemmed crystal dessert glass.
“Hey, Bruce. Long day?”
“Ah.” Dick took a bite of mousse and licked the spoon clean. Bruce shook his head as Dick smirked. The younger man nearly danced down the hall as he tossed over his shoulder, “Clark called and says he’ll join us on patrol tonight.”
Bruce’s step was lighter as he followed Dick after putting his briefcase on the hall table. He went into the library and sifted through the mail that Alfred had deposited on his desk. Dick lounged on the sofa, eating the rich mousse.
“Mmm,” he groaned as he ate.
Bruce steadfastly kept his attention on the mail, nearly dropping a letter as Dick moaned again. “Are you hurt?”
“Nope. In fact, I’m in heaven with this mousse. It just slides down my throat.”
Bruce’s hand crumpled the junk mail he was reading and threw it into the wastebasket, glancing up to see Dick stretch out one long leg on the couch.
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
Blue eyes sparkled as Dick grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
Bruce tossed the rest of the mail back on the desk and stalked over to the couch. If anything, Dick was even more insouciant. Bruce reached down and slid his hand up underneath the yellow sweater and stroked satiny skin.
“Mmm, that feels good.” Dick’s smile was as wanton as his eyes.
Not for the first time Bruce marveled at Dick’s easy sexuality. He exuded it from every pore. Bruce leaned down hungrily to claim his young lover’s mouth. It tasted of silken chocolate. His tongue plundered that delicious cavern as he stroked his hand downward. Dick helped him by unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
Bruce lost himself in passion, the smell of Dick’s strawberry-scented shampoo mingling with his clean scent fresh from the shower. Silken hair fell into sapphire-blue eyes as Dick pressed Bruce closer.
Strong hands gripped his hips from behind. He moaned into Dick’s mouth.
“Looks like you boys started without me,” Clark said cheerfully.
Bruce broke the kiss and Dick said, “Always glad to see you, Clark.”
Clark grinned and leaned over to kiss Dick. Gently he lifted Dick up and the younger man wrapped his legs around Clark’s waist. Clark nuzzled his jaw and neck as he cupped Dick’s buttocks. Bruce pressed up close behind Dick, rubbing Dick’s shoulders as he kissed the back of his neck.
Dick slid down to his knees, eagerly opening Clark’s pants as Bruce slid his jeans off, Dick taking Clark into his mouth as Bruce took a tube out from his pocket and quickly prepared them both. He grabbed Dick’s hips and carefully eased into pliant flesh.
Dick groaned as he sucked, Clark’s hand on the back of his head as Bruce took him from behind. Filled front and back by hot, hard flesh, Dick soared as his body quivered with lust. He sucked harder as Clark thrust his hips forward and Bruce thrust from behind. Excitement built up in him as he reached his peak, Clark groaning as he gave one final thrust, his seed spilling down Dick’s throat. Bruce thrust in harder and faster, coming with a shout.
After several minutes Dick said, “What a way to start patrol!”
Bruce groaned as he slapped Dick’s ass. “Get down to the Cave.”
Dick laughed as all three cleaned up and headed for the Batcave.
& & & & & &
Superman flew high in the sky, the Batmobile cruising below him. He glowed with the healthy vitality of a man who had just had mind-blowing sex and smiled.
He saw the sunshine cape flutter next to the dark one as Batman drove with the top down. It was a nod to freedom of the road, though Batman would never admit it.
Superman smiled. He and Robin were able to get the oft-grim Bat to loosen up. They were kindred spirits, really. They loved the bright and the gaudy and having fun, and between the two of them they would get Batman to laugh or enjoy hot, had sex.
He swooped down to Gotham.
It was a wild night of almost constant action, setting blood afire with the thrill of the hunt. Superman liked making a difference and was happy to stop muggers, thieves, and would-be rapists.
It was wild, exciting and productive until one jewelry store robber got a lucky blow against Robin. The youngest hero dropped like a stone, sunshine cape fluttering to the ground. The thief stared, his lips starting to curve into a smile, which was quickly lost as he realized what he had just done. He started to run.
Rage in a Bat-costume came down on him like a ton of bricks. The rest of the robbers scattered like rats escaping a sinking ship, which Superman thought was an appropriate metaphor. Heart in his throat, he flew down to Robin.
He checked the younger man’s pulse and listened to his heartbeat: still strong and steady but he needed treatment. Carefully he gathered Robin into his arms.
“B., I’ll meet you back at the Cave!” and he was gone.
“Ow, the light. Alfred, shut it off!”
“Sorry, Master Dick. You must hold on just a bit.” Alfred adjusted the light over the examination table in the Batcave infirmary.
Both Clark and Bruce let out sighs of relief as Dick regained consciousness. Complaining was just the icing on the cake.
“Be quiet,” Bruce ordered.
Dick grumbled but obeyed. Clark put a hand on his leg. “Relax, Dick. You’ll have the best of care.”
“You mean I’ll have three mother hens.”
“You bet,” Bruce said brusquely.
Dick would have rolled his eyes if it didn’t hurt. Clark kissed the top of his head and gently lifted Dick off the examination table. Dick sighed and rested his head against Clark’s shoulder.
Clark carried Dick upstairs to his bedroom, laying him gently on the bed. Dick bit his lip, his face pinched by the pain of a headache. Eventually he would get medication but the concussion was a tricky thing.
“Let me undress you.”
Dick’s eyes were closed and he smiled. “Not really in the mood, Clark.”
“Ha, ha. When are you not in the mood?” Clark stripped Dick’s costume off, taking a pair of red flannel pajamas out of the dresser and helping Dick into them.
“Ah, good, Alfred’s not fond of costumes upstairs,” said Bruce as he entered the room a little while later clad in black pants and turtleneck sweater.
“Well, this time’s an exception,” said Dick.
Clark nodded. He was still clad in his Superman suit as he fussed over Dick.
“You notice how his mouth never gets out of commission,” Bruce said wryly.
Once Clark had the pillows fluffed and blanket pulled up he did a super-speed change of clothes. He emerged from the whirlwind in red flannel shirt and worn jeans.
“No doubt Dick would approve of your sartorial splendor,” Bruce said dryly.
“Shaddup,” Clark said good-naturedly.
Bruce walked over to the window and closed the drapes. It was going to be a long night.
Alfred brought the tray with bowls of stew up to Dick’s room. Dick had assured him that he wasn’t nauseous and would welcome some piping-hot stew.
“Thank you, Alfred,” said Bruce as he finished setting up TV trays for himself and Clark.
Alfred set the tray over Dick’s lap and Dick crumbled a handful of Saltine crackers into the bowl of stew, anticipating the savory beef, carrots, potatoes, celery and onions. Despite his headache he was ready for some food.
“I’ll feel a lot better after I eat this.” Dick took his first spoonful. “Oh, yeah.”
“Perfect as always, Alfred,” said Clark.
“Thank you, sir.” Alfred took out his penlight. “Master Dick.” Sighing, Dick tilted his head and Alfred checked his pupils. “So far so good.”
Bruce and Clark nodded in approval. Alfred left the room with a smile on his face as Clark began telling a story about his most recent patrol in Metropolis. Dick listened avidly as he ate.
Bruce listened while covertly watching Dick, who was bubbling as frothily as the stew as he threw himself into listening to Clark’s tale. As Bruce took a spoonful of stew, he considered them all lucky. In their business risk was always present. For non-powered heroes like Dick and himself, head injuries were especially a concern. They would all keep a very close eye on Dick.
The wind rattled the windowpanes as Dick shivered. Clark turned and twin beams of red light lasered toward the fireplace, igniting the logs and starting a fire.
“Show-off,” Bruce grumbled while Dick laughed and Clark winked.
Dick was pleased at his lovers’ efforts to keep him amused while struggling through his headache. His vision was slightly blurred but it would clear up and he was grateful that his stomach was behaving. He certainly could enjoy the stew.
His memory was fuzzy about the patrol and he might never remember it, but he wouldn’t forget this night as Clark, Bruce and Alfred took care of him, each in his own way.
Dick felt the warmth of the fire, tasted the flavors of the stew and reveled in the sights and sounds of Bruce and Clark entertaining him. The flannel pajamas were warm against his skin as he blinked his eyes.
“You okay, Dick?” Bruce asked.
“Oh, sure. Just tired.”
“You can sleep eventually. How about pie for dessert?”
Dick laughed. “Okay.”
“I’ll go downstairs and get it. Apple, lemon or cherry?”
“Clark?” Bruce asked as he stood.
Bruce left the room and Clark came over to the bed. He smoothed the hair back from Dick’s brow. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”
Dick smiled fondly. “Me, too.”
Clark leaned down and kissed him.
Yes, Dick considered himself lucky, indeed.