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“Richard John–”
It’s been a long time since Dick has gotten into any trouble that would warrant his full name being called like that. Not many opportunities to mess around when his life has become a testament to modern heroism’s perspective on propriety and decorum. It’s not something that Dick minds too much; he enjoys the space he’s made for himself in this community, but sometimes he misses the mischief, the diablerie.
The sound of Jason scampering across the floor upstairs makes Dick look up, a crooked smile playing on his lips as Jason storms the manor in search of him. When he catches sight of Dick on the lower level, Jason slides to an abrupt stop, grabbing onto the banister with a white knuckle grip to complement the wild look in his eyes.
He looks every bit the mess Dick left him earlier.
Cute.
Dick thinks so, at least. Jason? Not so much, if the blistering scowl on his face is anything to go by. Still, Dick thinks he’s charming. Frazzled and flustered is a good look on him. So are the plethora of hickeys that stretch from Jason’s collar and up his neck.
“We have an event to go to–” Jason hisses at him, leaning over the railing of the stairs to snip at him. Dick’s gaze drops from Jason’s face to the hickeys, to the way Jason’s shirt hangs to expose his chest, before looking back up with a devil-may-care smirk.
“Yep.” Dick agrees. Happy as he would have been to miss said event if it meant fooling around with Jason some more, it’s for charity. Or rather, it’s to schmooze Gotham’s elite to donate to charity. Nothing to be done for it; it’s for a good cause.
“You–” Jason starts, stops. Balks before he accuses, “You did this on purpose!”
It takes all Dick’s restraint not to smile at the scandalized look Jason shoots at him, to not let his gaze soften at the way Jason flushes, cheeks stained a pretty pink and lips pulled in a sweet snarl.
Dick can’t help but marvel him. Jason is a sight, all tousled curls and kiss swollen lips; fair skin bruised and tailored clothes in disarray. He must have only noticed the love bites when he was getting dressed for the event. With how high up Dick left them, Dick doesn’t think there’ll be any hiding them even if Jason were to button his shirt all the way to the collar.
“You seemed happy when it was happening.” Dick quips.
“I’m always happy when it’s happening, dick.” Jason bites back, but there’s no heat to it. Just a sulkish resignation over Dick being a degenerate and Jason being no better.
Dick feels helpless to the chuckle that bubbles up from his chest. It comes out a soft breath, barely there as he provokes Jason with a playfully drawled, “Aww.”
“No. Don’t you ‘aww’ me.” Jason says, thoroughly, successfully provoked. Although no one is home to hear them, Jason hisses hushed and through clenched teeth like he’s trying to keep a secret, “I look like a hussy!”
“You look like you’re mine.” Dick counters, leveling Jason with a soft, crooked smile. Boyish and charming in a way that never fails to fluster him. For a moment Jason looks stricken, then begrudgingly pleased. He holds fast to the banister, glowering until Dick provokes him again, “Do you need help getting ready? We’re late.”
“Don’t even think about coming up here.” Jason tells him, turning Dick’s own words against him to stress, “We’re late.”
He says it like Dick isn’t the one already downstairs, ready and waiting. He says it like Jason isn’t immediately distracted when he finally notices. Awestruck by how Dick cleans up; that he can put himself together so quickly despite how they took each other apart not long ago. Checking him out, none-too-subtle. Dick doesn’t so much preen as he takes advantage of the moment to tease Jason. Dick pulls at his collar, showing off a hidden hickey of his own that makes Jason flush sweetly.
Jason’s gaze snaps up to meet Dick’s, caught out.
And Dick smiles, all teeth and bite.
“What’s another few minutes?”
The flirtation prompts a laugh out of Jason. A sputtered cackle. ‘A few minutes,’ he snickers, ‘Bullshit.’ Dick has to laugh too if only because Jason is right. Whatever restraint and resolve Dick has is a foregone thing with Jason. Propriety, decorum–it’s easy to forget when it’s Jason he’s getting into trouble with.
“Wait.” Jason tells him, so Dick waits. He checks his watch, pleased at how they’re past the point of being fashionably late and toeing the line of discourtesy.
It’s another few minutes before Jason comes bounding down the stairs. When Dick looks up to see him, he smiles, small and warm. There’s something especially cute about when Jason dresses up. Despite having a suit tailored to him, he still ends up shucking the blazer for a nice, bulky sweater. Dick’s sweater.
Improper as it is for the event, Dick doesn’t mind it. It’s another thing for Gotham’s socialites to gossip about, though Dick can’t imagine it will keep their interest long. Nothing more indecorous than the hickeys that show prominently beneath the collar of Jason’s dress shirt, pressed neat beneath Dick’s sweater–buttoned all the way up but doing nothing to hide his love bites. Undoubtedly, men will flush at the sight, women will clutch their pearls, and Dick? He’ll pull Jason away from the fundraiser. Hide them away so that Dick can mark Jason up more. Until Jason is gasping breathless, wanton moans caught behind his hands, left so wrecked-flushed-gorgeous that there would be no tittle-tattle to speculate on, no secrets because Jason is Dick’s. Jason chooses to be his.
“What?” Jason asks him, shooting him a truly scathing side eye to accompany a sullen glower.
Dick reaches out for him, holding the side of Jason’s neck and brushing his thumb over one of the tender bruises–wine red and dark blue. His touch makes Jason shudder; makes him bare his neck and peek through the dark sweep of his lashes at him. Alluring. Handsome.
“You look nice, is all.”
A few minutes might really be all they need, if they really wanted to.
Jason scoffs and bumps him, but there’s a blush staining the tips of his ears with heat.
“If we take the car B sent for us,” Jason grumbles, sweetly timid and charming for how embarrassed he gets, “That’d give us a few minutes, huh? And after…”
They could come back here, after. To their home away from home; spend the night instead of driving straight back. They can carry on with their fooling around from earlier. Dick can sneak up to Jason’s bedroom window in the dead of night, rap at the glass and tease Jason for sweet cliche fantasies when Jason lets him in. Jason could blush, caught out, but laugh because Dick is the dork that plays into those childhood daydreams and takes it so many steps further. Chasing Jason’s laughter, his smile. Following the marks Dick left earlier. Kissing each one. Further, farther, until he finds where they stop–until he can start anew between the pale spread of Jason’s legs. Kisses to his ankle bone, to the side of his knee; the graze of teeth over the softness of Jason’s inner thighs alongside a laugh, a breath of air to make Jason shiver. One more hickey, one more bruise; love bites that Jason watches with dark eyes, a heaving chest.
“And after…?” Dick teases him, smiling wide when Jason clicks his tongue at him and scowls.
“You can take your damn time with me.” Jason tells him, his voice a low murmur that’s as prickly as it is bashful. Even knowing the invitation was coming, Dick still feels his cheeks flush with heat; warmed by the breadth of his smile, the giddiness in his laugh.
It’s been a long time since Dick’s been able to get into trouble.
Jason makes it easy.