Category: m/m slash fiction: if same-sex guy sex offends you, go elsewhere now, please. If you feel that same-sex Titans sex is total blasphemy, get an imagination, please.
Rated NC-17 for adult situations and language
Rated “P” for endless Police Puns
Cast: Nightwing/Tempest
Disclaimer: All characters owned by DC Comics. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these characters.
Summary: Nightwing plans a special homecoming for a long-absent Tempest.
Background: Kerithwyn generously invited me to contribute a chapter in this amazing continuing slash series, Sea and Sky, about the developing relationship between fellow Titans, Nightwing and Tempest. The sometimes tender, sometimes turbulent, sometimes frustratingly aggravating relationship has had its ups and downs, soared to breathless heights and then nearly drowned in the murky depths of emotion and personal revelation. My intent here is to catch these two seriously dedicated crimefighters in a lighter and more playful personal moment.
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@aol.com
Thanks, and please enjoy.
His shift over, Blüdhaven Police Officer Richard Grayson emerged from the stationhouse locker room showered, shaved, and dressed -- not in civilian attire -- but in a crisp, clean BCPD uniform. Whistling merrily, he bounded down the corridor to the station’s exit, headed for home.
“GRAYSON!” Came a shout from behind him, halting him from a clean getaway. “Where the hell are *you* going dressed like *that*? You have overtime duties you’re not telling your partner and superior officer about, rookie?” the inquiry came from Grayson’s likewise-clocked-out partner, Sgt. Amy Rohrbach. She approached him, giving him a lingering and scrutinizing perusal. “You look better than when you came onshift today, Grayson -- you smell pretty good, too.” Her face sported a half-smirk, with one eyebrow arched suspiciously.
Dick Grayson turned to his sergeant, a look of casual innocence washed over his handsome features. “I’m just headed home, Amy, nothing out of the ordinary about that.” He emphasized his reply with a slightly subdued version of the Oracle-dubbed “lady-killer” smile. His partner looked less than convinced. He continued, “Oh, the uniform, huh?” Dick rolled his eyes upward in thought for a second, then back to his partner again, and fibbed cheerfully. “Well, y’know, some of the elderly folks in my building love to see the uniform. Makes ‘em feel secure knowing a cop lives close by.” He broadened his smile to display his back molars.
That’s a pile of horse manure and you know it, Grayson. Whoever *she* is, just keep her away from your loaded weapon.” Amy Rohrback fought to keep a serious, straight expression in the face of Dick’s charmingly disarming grin.
Dick leaned in close to his partner to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. “But Amy, that would kind of defeat the purpose, don’t you think? Besides, ‘this is my weapon, this is my gun, one is for business, the other’s for fun’!” He stepped back, winked, snapped a clean -- albeit sarcastic -- salute, and promptly exited the building, leaving his partner idly wishing she could be a fly on his wall tonight.
Earlier that afternoon, “Nightwing” had received a pager message from Tempest -- Garth -- notifying him of his return to Blüdhaven after a week’s absence. Tempest’s trip, due to his ambassadorial duties in Washington and Atlantis, had been the first lengthy separation that the two Titans had experienced since they’d begun cohabitating at Nightwing’s Blüdhaven apartment. Their relationship had begun with a cautiously exploratory episode that rapidly accelerated into a passionate affair. After weathering some stormy and turbulent emotional upheavals, they recognized, accepted, then welcomed the deep affection and growing bond between them.
Their respective responsibilities to their careers, and their lives outside their relationship, posed a constant challenge to their desire to be together as much as possible, as did their physiological differences. Land-dweller and ocean-dweller together, Dick and Garth were forced to bow to the considerations of those differences and responsibilities from time to time. This separation had certainly felt longer than either had expected it to, but now Garth had returned, and hopefully all had gone well with his trip. And Dick had definite plans for a warm, welcoming homecoming for his friend, fellow Titan, and lover.
Dick parked and secured his motorcycle, hurried into his apartment building, and ran up the stairs -- taking them three at a time -- not even stopping to check his mailbox. He keyed open this door, entered and looked around the apartment. No Garth. Rats! However, a delicious aroma wafted in from the direction of the kitchen, causing the “world’s second-greatest detective” to deduce that the object of his search must be in there. Dick quietly closed the front door and stalked silently into the kitchen. Garth stood at the stove, his back to the kitchen’s doorway, diligently attending some wonderful culinary delight. He had obviously showered (like he didn’t do *that* on a frequent basis) and was wearing only an old pair of drawstring sweatpants. Dick leaned against the doorway for a moment, taking the opportunity to enjoy a lingering, hungry gaze at the magnificently proportioned Merman before him. Garth’s back was a work of muscular mastery -- broad shoulders, powerful arms, massive lats (swimmer’s wings), tapering to a trim waist that sat atop beefy hips and thighs. Dick couldn’t decide at that moment which was more mouth-watering -- his lover, or his lover’s cooking.
Opting for the former, he approached the preoccupied Tempest in full “Nightwing-stealth-mode.” In a heartbeat, the aquatic Titan had been apprehended, handcuffed, and spun around to face his extremely arresting officer. Placing a finger over Garth’s surprised lips, the recent addition to “Blüdhaven’s finest” growled, “You’re under arrest, Mister, anything on my body can and will be held against you!” Dick replaced his finger with his mouth, pulling Garth into a lingering, knee-weakening kiss, as he reached behind his lover to switch off the stove and oven. He pulled back from Garth’s mouth, kissing him softly on his cheeks and forehead before pausing to look longingly into the amethyst eyes before him.
Those violet eyes looked dreamily back, then sparkled with amusement at his predicament. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what I’m under arrest for…Officer DICK?”
You’re under arrest, you dastardly villain, for not ‘breaking and entering’ ME for a whole goddam week!” And with that, Dick hoisted the surprised Titan over his shoulder and carried him into the living room, where he deposited him into the big recliner chair that faced the entertainment center.
Laughing, Garth entreated upon his love to release him. “This is a splendid show of police brutality, Richard, but would you mind removing the handcuffs so I can give you the kind of greeting you deserve?”
“Hey, mook, this is Blüdhaven, remember? You haven’t begun to see police brutality yet. Would ya like to?” Dick grinned suggestively. “Are you resisting arrest, Mister?” he threatened teasingly.
“Richard, at this moment, I don’t believe I’m capable of resisting *anything* you suggest -- I’d just like the cuffs removed so I can touch you, love.”
Dick stood back, arms crossed, and glared authoritatively at his subdued suspect. “That sounds like a threat to assault an officer of the law to me, buddy. Oh, I’m afraid there are serious, serious penalties for an infraction like that. You wanna see some *real* police brutality? Dick stepped forward again, placing his hands on either side of the chair’s armrests, on either side of his interrogation subject. He grinned wickedly, and spoke nose-to-nose to Garth. “You want me to take out the ol’ *nightstick* and pop you upside the face with it a couple of times?” Dick shoved the back of the chair, pushing it -- and Garth -- into a reclined angle, then hoisted himself into the chair, straddling the amused Atlantean’s hips. He dipped his head to rest his chin between the sea-dweller’s well-developed pectorals.
“Or, we can play ‘Good-Cop’ …” he tenderly suckled Garth’s right nipple, “…or ‘Bad-Cop!” he savagely bit the left nipple, inducing a hiss of ecstasy. Dick gave the insulted bud a soft kiss, then rested his cheek against Garth’s chest, listening to the strong heartbeat. He closed his eyes, relaxing for a moment to the soothing pulse.
“Richard, I’ll play *anything* you want if you’ll just remove these handcuffs, please.” He pleaded, as Dick’s weight on his lap began to send oceans of blood to a long-neglected part of his body.
Dick sat up abruptly and tipped his cap back with one finger. He shifted more of his weight against Garth’s lap. “Attempting to bribe a police officer? You’re racking up *quite* a collection of serious infractions, Mister. And I *can’t* remove those cuffs because it appears you’re carrying a concealed weapon!” Blüdhaven’s finest reached down and grasped Garth’s growing hardness through his sweatpants. “What is this? A ‘38? A ’45? A sawed-off shotgun? Mister, you’re armed and dangerous!” There’s only one thing I can do in a situation like this.” Dick hopped off the chair, kicked the footrest down, sending the chair’s back snapping into its upright position.
Growing increasingly frustrated and aroused by Dick’s endless taunting and police double-entendres, not to mention the fact that the uniform alone made him want to throw the vigilante to the ground and ravage him, Garth pleaded and played along. “Officer DICK. Would you PLEASE remove these handcuffs?” He stood and started walking toward his uniformed roommate. Dick set his cap low on his brow, seized Garth by the shoulders, and pulled him close.
“Don’t. Get out. Of the chair!” he growled. “Remember, ‘Good-Cop’… he kissed Garth tenderly, sweetly, “or ‘Bad-Cop.’” He devoured the Atlantean’s full lips, sucking -- then biting -- the lower one. “Wadda ya want, G.? Huh? M’I gonna have to *take you in*? You want me to take you in, G., because I can do it!”
Garth’s hooded eyes cast their violet gaze on his captor. His breath rushed past his bruised lips, which spread into a smile that reflected his imminent answer. “Then you’ll have to do just that, copper!”
Dick’s face beamed with delight. He bent and slowly pulled the sweatpants down Garth’s hips, past his now-prominent erection, all the way down to his ankles. He then stood and shoved the handcuffed Titan back into the lounger. “You’d better watch where you aim that thing, buddy!” pointing his finger warningly at the heavily bobbing cock.
“Officer Dick…” Garth began.
“Shhh…sit still and be quiet like a good felon. It might buy you some leniency -- although I doubt it.” Dick turned to the entertainment center and queued up a CD. The music he had chosen was a lazy and seductive blues number, with a wailing electric guitar opening and a pulse-beat baseline. Interplaying with the crying guitar was a ticklish tease of deft piano finger work, all spiced with a hissing snare drum. A perfect strip-tease accompaniment, chosen well. Just the first few measures were enough to make Garth’s rampant member weep with anticipation.
Dick watched his lover’s reaction and took a deep breath. He pulled the bill of his cap low across this forehead and strutted slowly forward, syncopating his steps with the sex-pulsed beat of the music, slowly undoing his necktie. He pulled it off, twirling it around his finger. He then wound it around Garth’s upright cock with one hand while unbuttoning his starched, white shirt with the other. Turning his back on Garth, Dick slid the shirt off of one muscular shoulder, then the other, drawing it slowly down his back, as he looked over his shoulder at his rapt audience of one. He pulled the shirt back and forth across his ass, while rotating his hips, knees bent slightly. Spinning back to face Garth, he removed the shirt entirely, whipped it above his head like a cowboy’s lasso, and sent if flying across the room. Dick grinned sexily sassy now, obviously delighted with the reaction he was getting out of Garth.
The Atlantean sat forwarding the upright lounger, an expression of amused lust on his face, his violet eyes bright and his face flushed slightly. His chest expanded and contracted with his quickened breathing.
Officer Dick swayed and spun, shaking his hips, flexing is back muscles, chest muscles, raising his arms over his head as he undulated, then lowered them, his hands caressing his torso and waist on their sensuous journey to his uniform trousers. He moved rhythmically as he unhitched his trouser belt, and pulled it away to toss it on the floor. He left his holster and sidearm untouched. Garth noticed that the sidearm wasn’t BCPD issue -- it was bright green. A water pistol. Dick saw Garth’s revelation, drew the pistol and assumed a firing stance, sending a cold stream of water into the sea-dweller’s face. Garth laughed heartily out loud. “Thank you, actually that’s quite refreshing!” Laughing back, Dick emptied the faux weapon at Garth, then unbuckled the heavy holster belt and pulled it off, holding it over his head as he spun around with it, before laying it across a table. He returned to face Garth, sliding his hands sinuously down his own torso and abdomen to his waist, fingering every rippled muscle along the way. Moving to mere inches from Garth’s face, those fingers unclasped the trousers and slid the zipper down, inch by inch. Garth’s eyes followed along, unable to look anywhere else.
Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his uniform trousers, Dick pushed the pants down to his hips. He paused to bend forward to give Garth a smooch on his water pistol-dampened forehead, then he turned his back on the Atlantean and pushed the pants over his hips, all the way to his ankles, bending from the waist, and in the process, provided Garth with a splendid view of his perfect posterior. Feet together, palms to the ground, Dick untied his shoe laces, then his feet lifted out of the shoes, out of the crumpled trousers in a gravity-defying trek upwards, as the acrobatic Titan expertly transitioned from a pike position to an open scissoring air-split to bring his legs together again in a perfect handstand, his policeman’s cap dropping to the floor. Dick laughed at Garth from upside-down, then pitched into a quick forward roll and hopped up again, twisting to land facing Garth. He was wearing a tiny black Speedo. Garth laughed aloud, cheered, and whistled. He would have applauded, too, except for the every-annoying handcuffs that restrained him.
“Robbie…” he interrupted, “…the cuffs, please. How can I fully express my appreciation with my hands bound like this?”
Dick strutted forward, his own heavily growing excitement barely concealed by the skimpy garment. Taking Garth’s face in his hands, he bent and kissed him, bit his nose lightly, and backed up. “You’ve never been lacking in imagination, Garth. You’ll *come up* with something.” He replied suggestively, glancing down at Garth’s straining, necktie-wrapped erection.
Spinning away to the sexy music, Dick danced around the chair, then dropped into a backward somersault, whipping the Speedo off fluidly as he rolled, and continued his motion up to a standing position, having grabbed up his previously discarded policeman’s cap as he rose. Holding the cap in front of his crotch, he danced some more, laughing at himself in enjoyment, feeling sexy and silly at the same time.
He then walked toward Garth with a “forward-step, side-touch” dance strut, moving one hand from the hat, then switching hands on the next strut, until he had once again moved inches from Garth. He looked down at his lover, his smile beaming, and removed both hands from the policeman’s cap. The cap remained -- suspended, impaled -- held aloft by “Officer Dick, Jr.” At this, Dick Grayson could no longer suppress the giggle that had been welling in his throat in anticipation of his gravity-defying feat. Then both men burst into laughter, smiling at each other with lust and love.
“Robbie…my hands…love, please.” Garth choked out, in tears of mirth.
“Ah, no, can’t do that, G….” Dick touched Garth’s cheek with one hand, then placed the cap on Garth’s head and pushed him and the chair backward into a half-reclined position. He unwound the necktie, pulling it slowly and torturously away from the straining stem. Placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, the circus-born acrobatic Titan easily lifted himself into a perfect handstand, then bent his elbows, slowly lowering himself with those powerful arms, to where his mouth could reach Garth’s aching penis. He licked the tip with teasing, cat-like laps, and then drew the engorged head into his mouth, causing Garth to gasp like a fish out of water. Raising and lowering himself with effortlessly powerful pushups with his arms, he tortured his lover with his amazing feat of acrobatic fellatio.
Garth’s head dropped back, sending the policeman’s cap low over his eyes, blinding him from the erotic performance. “Dick…*please*, take these things off of my hands!” he begged.
Dick tucked and swung down to straddle Garth’s hips in the big chair, their naked skin finally touching, and their longsuffering erections finally engaged in heated contact. Dick began to move sensuously, slowly grinding his hips into Garth’s, to the music’s fuck-tempo. His hands ran upward from the Atlantean’s abs to this broad chest and past his shoulders, to rest on either side of his head against the back of the chair. Dick’s body slid against Garth’s, making as much contact as possible in their positions. The acrobat ran his tongue from the hollow of Garth’s throat up to his chin, then he closed his mouth on the other’s in a long, searching kiss, his tongue thrusting at the same tempo as his hips. He pulled out of the kiss, trailed his lips across Garth’s jaw to his ear, where he whispered, “No can do, my love. I know you, you ‘evil-doer.’ You’ll just do that ‘finger-waving magic-y’ thing you do with your hands, and then I’ll get *all* bubbly-headed, and be at your total mercy.” Dick sat up partially, keeping the grinding contact between their swollen sexes, and retrieved his cap, donning it with a flushed smirk.
Panting now, “…but Richard…you -- you like…being at my…mercy.” Garth’s violet eyes blazed with amethyst fire, seizing Dick’s crystal blue gaze in a deliberate ocular attack. Dick suddenly relaxed, a dreamy smile spread across his handsome face as he fell into the exotic, purple glow. Oh, how he’d missed those eyes, and the hypnotic, erotic effect they had on him.
“Ohhh, yeah…I do…I…--NO! NononononoNO! Looking away, Dick broke the visual charm his lover had cast over him. He shook his head to clear the velvet, violet fog. "Uh-*UH*, Garth, Not that, not yet!” To ensure his “safety,” Dick abruptly stopped humping. He reached across his lover -- carefully avoiding Garth’s eyes -- over the arm of the chair to the end table beside the chair. He pulled open the drawer and extracted a small tube of lubricant. Sitting up again, he faced Garth, placed the tube lightly between his teeth, wrinkled his nose at his lover, then lifted himself once again into an easy handstand, switching hands on the armrests, and pivoting around before tucking and lowering himself back into the straddle, this time with his back to Garth. Removing the tube from his teeth, he smirked over his shoulder, “HA! You can’t use your evil mind-control on me now, felon. I’ve got you now, and it looks like I’m gonna have to take you into custody!” And with that, Dick resumed his lap dance to the grinding blues refrain, reaching behind him with well-lubricated fingers, inserting one, then two digits into his inviting opening, preparing himself to incarcerate Garth’s cock.
“Oh, by Pallais, Robbie, I am begging you, take these damnable things off my hands NOW!” Garth’s deep voice growled even deeper, resonating through his body as he watched his tease-of-a-lover ease slowly down onto his throbbing, blunt member. Ignoring the Atlantean’s demands, Dick proceeded to fuck Garth like a courtesan, moving with serpentine grace, gliding the large cock deliciously over his sensitive prostate gland. He made sure that every muscle visible to his lover danced with erotic effect.
Breathless, all Garth could do was to pump back, but it wasn’t nearly enough, he wanted his hands on that beautiful body, on the acrobat’s back, his chest, his ass, his thighs, his belly, his cock. He wanted to grasp him closer and taste every inch of skin he could reach. Fevered with passion, he wanted to drive himself as deeply as he could into his lover’s body.
Dick felt his partner’s frustration and gleefully quickened his rhythm. The music ended, leaving Dick to set his own tempo now. He reached down to take his own demanding shaft into his hand and stroked it in time with his accelerated movements. He was close; he sensed that Garth was close. Dick shut his eyes and went soaring in his mind. Then deep in his chest, it started: the soft, low, melodious laughter that signaled his impending release.
That familiar passion-song did it for Garth. He would bear this no longer! His eyes took on a glow, from violet to white. He drew upon the elemental energy from deep within his cells, and sent a controlled burst of energy through his hands, disintegrating the handcuffs to cinders. The energy pulse from his actions to liberate his restrained hands reverberated its counterflow through his body like a small tsunami, as always, but he had never expelled this energy in such close contact with another being before. Instead of washing back through his own body, Garth’s residual elemental power pulse pushed outward, conducted through the point of contact with that being, into his impaled lover!
“WHOA--OHHHH! Holy Jeezus, OMIGOD-OMIGOD -- GAARRRTH!!!” Dick’s soft laughter erupted into an ecstatic shout as the burst of energy coursed through his astonished body, bringing him to an instantaneous, shuddering, brain-melting climax, his hot spendings jetted across his chest and abdomen. His muscles hummed like a struck tuning fork. Dick then lost all voluntary muscle control and pitched forward, beginning to fall out of the chair.
Garth, yet unfulfilled, caught the limp vigilante, not wanting to break their sexual contact, and moved them both, still conjoined, to the floor. Still trembling with his orgasm, Dick could only rest his head on his arms as he was held tightly, on his knees and elbows, his wildly impassioned lover pounding forcefully into him, their bodies slapping together audibly. With a final deep thrust and a deeper growl, Garth came mightily, sending pulse after pulse of his seed into his lover’s still-quaking body.
Garth rested his head between Dick’s shoulder blades for a moment, gasping wordlessly for breath. He slipped out of him, then pulled them both to lie on their sides on the floor, spooned, spent and panting.
A lazy smile crept across Dick’s lips, and he began to chuckle softly. He opened his eyes and finger-walked one hand to reach his abandoned uniform hat. He pulled it back slowly and placed it lop-sidedly on his head. “Y’know, Garth, those were department-issue handcuffs. I’ll have to replace them on my dime…” he quipped.
“You can replace our dinner, too, while your at it, ‘Officer Dick’, because it is most certainly ruined. Pallais, I need a shower!” The Atlantean stirred, sat up, and pulled his companion up with him. “You need one, too, Mister Sticky. Let’s go.”
“Oh, you are so mistaken if you think I can walk, Garth.” Dick laughed, trying to hold himself up against Garth with his unresponsive muscles, as Garth pulled him to his feet.
The sea-dweller effortlessly swept his limp-limbed lover up into his arms and started toward their master bathroom. “Then don’t bother trying, my little lap-dancer.”
“Little? Hey, mook, I still have my nightstick!” Dick growled in warning.
“Ah, yes,” Garth glanced at Dick’s quiescent member, “it must be the collapsible kind,” he joked.
Dick’s eyes followed Garth’s violet gaze. “Heh, heh, I *do* resemble dat remark, G. I do at dat.” He was still chuckling when Garth carried him through the bathroom door.
In the shower, Garth washed himself and hydrated, while Dick leaned up against his back, his limbs still rubbery from the anal energy burst he’d received. “What the hell *was* that, Garth? What fuck did you do to me? That was a *lot* more than just the finger-waving magic-y’ thingie!” Dick accused him mirthfully. He looked with bemusement down at his wiggling fingers, trying to will his unresponsive arms to lift. Garth turned and pushed his love back against the shower wall and soaped him down, washing him as if he were a child.
“It’s your own fault, Robbie. I couldn’t bear to keep those cuffs on any longer. I wanted -- I needed -- to touch you. I simply used my elemental power to destroy the handcuffs. *I’m* used to the backwash effect of the residual energy in my body, but I’m guessing that, having a conductive conduit to exit my body, it traveled through to you.”
“You mean I had a lightning rod up my ass?” Dick smirked, thoroughly enjoying his bath.
“In a manner of speaking, yes, -- or, a ‘Tempest in your teapot’!” Garth laughed as he rinsed his “rag doll” under the warm spray, then turned off the water and toweled them both dry.
He assisted Dick out of the bathroom and to their bed. Dick fell forward onto the bed, then turned over onto his back, and gazed up at Garth, who remained standing. “Hey, where’re you going?” he complained, shaking the feeling back into his arms.
“I thought I’d go see what’s salvageable of our dinner.” Garth explained (or perhaps not, look at what lay before him on that bed).
“Fuck dinner. Come to bed.” Dick smiled, stretching indulgently, like a cat, and linked his hands behind his head. A command, a challenge, an invitation, it didn’t matter, as long as it got the result he was after.
“I thought you were hungry, Richard.” Garth smiled as he stretched out next to the beautiful naked form he never tired of. He caressed a lean flank lovingly. Dick rolled onto his side, into that caress and pulled Garth to him, kissing him long and deep and languorously, his hands roaming freely over his lover’s defined musculature. After a few minutes they came up for air. Forehead to forehead, his fingers idly twined in Garth’s curly locks, Dick spoke quietly. “If I neglected to say so earlier, Garth, welcome home. I missed you. A lot. You’ve been out of my life for eight days -- I don’t want you out of my reach for eight minutes. No dinner. Just you.”
Dick kissed Garth’s nose, chin, throat, then trailed his kisses across the aquatic Titan’s broad chest, suckling the sensitive nipples momentarily before following his kisses down the trail of downy, dark hair to Garth’s reawakening sex. Dick took the pulsing shaft in his hand and looked back up at Garth’s face with a mischievous twinkle in his sky blue eyes. “We can always order out for pizza, Merman…” giving Garth’s erection a squeeze and a teasing lick, “…or, I can just have fresh sushi -- I’ll have one Atlantean roll, extra large, please, and hold the wasabi!”
Garth lay back, closed his eyes, and surrendered once again to his beloved officer of the law, very happy to be home at last.
- Fin