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Dick stops in the middle of the hall, whole body tensing as his boyfriend whispers on the other end of the phone. “You’re wearing the blue one?” He groans. “With the lace and the bows?”
“Mmhmm.” Zohan whispers on the other end of the line. “All for you pretty bird.”
“Baby,” Dick whines, practically collapsing to the ground. And here he was trying to do the right thing and be a responsible hero. “You tryin’ to kill me?”
Zohan chuckles softly on the other end, the sound sending shivers down Dick's spine. " Not yet, but I’m thinking about it, " Zohan teases, his voice velvety smooth. " Why? Is it working? "
Dick leans against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to fight off the flood of images his boyfriend's words are conjuring in his head. "I’m supposed to be out here saving people, not picturing you in that—God, you’re evil."
" Maybe a little, " Zohan purrs. " So... are you coming home soon? "
Dick laughs breathlessly, torn between his duty and the overwhelming temptation. "You make it sound like I’ve got a choice. I'm so sorry, Z."
" I know. " Zohan purrs. “Maybe if you do well you’ll get a surprise, pretty bird. I’m waiting."
“Fuck,” It had just been mission after mission and he missed his boyfriend. He missed him so much. With every bit of softness, the man whispered into the phone. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Go be a hero Nightwing.”
With that, the call ends, leaving Dick standing there, dazed and flushed. He stares down at his phone for a second longer, heart racing, before pushing himself off the wall. Bruce better be dying, or would have to fucking wait.
Dick pockets his phone, running a hand through his hair as he tries to focus. He takes a deep breath, centering himself as he remembers why he’s out there. Gotham needs him. But damn it, Zohan knows exactly how to get under his skin.
The thought of Zohan lounging at home in that teasing little outfit refuses to leave his mind. Every step he takes feels like a struggle to stay grounded. He’s a professional—he’s Nightwing—but Zohan is just too good at turning his brain to mush with a few well-placed words.
"Damn Dickface." Dick whirls around to a smirking Jason. "I always knew you were a fucking freak."
"I will kill you."
As he swings through the city, the chill night air does little to cool him down. His mind wanders back to their first night together, how Zohan had looked at him like he was something precious, something worth treasuring. It’s that softness, that quiet strength, that makes Dick's heart ache with longing. He doesn’t just miss the intimacy—they’re so much more than that. It’s the comfort, the easy way Zohan seems to understand him, to know when he’s exhausted and needs a little push, or when he just needs someone to be there.
Suddenly, his earpiece crackles with an alert. “Nightwing, there’s trouble down at the docks,” Oracle’s voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
“On my way,” he responds, trying to shake off the lingering heat in his body. Work first, reward later. He knows Zohan will be waiting for him when this is all over, and the thought makes his grin return.
Minutes later, he’s on the scene, springing into action. Thugs, goons, and criminals—it’s the usual lineup of Gotham’s finest. Dick moves through them like a shadow, quick, precise, almost too focused as he lets his training take over. Despite the chaos around him, his mind keeps circling back to the promise waiting for him at home.
As the last of the criminals hit the ground with a satisfying thud, Dick stands up straight, taking in the silence of the aftermath. His muscles ache, and his heart pounds, but it’s not from the fight. His fingers itch to reach for his phone, but he knows better.
“Job’s done,” he murmurs into his comm. “Heading back.”
As soon as the words are out, he’s already thinking about the fastest route home. His mind flits back to Zohan’s teasing voice, the warmth behind those words, and how they always make him feel seen, loved, and wanted in a way nothing else ever had.
By the time he makes it through the window of their shared apartment, he’s practically vibrating with anticipation. The soft glow of the living room light spills into the hallway, and there, leaning against the doorframe, is Zohan.
Wearing the blue lace, just like he said.
“Welcome home, pretty bird,” Zohan says with a smirk, his gaze slow and sultry as it rakes over Dick.
Dick freezes, swallowing hard as his breath catches in his throat. “Oh… my God.”
Zohan just chuckles, beckoning him closer with a tilt of his head. "Come here, hero. You’ve earned your reward."
Dick doesn’t hesitate. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, his body drawn to Zohan like a magnet. Every step feels heavier, anticipation thick in the air. The sight of his boyfriend, lounging casually in that outfit, was enough to make his pulse race, but it’s the playful gleam in Zohan’s eyes that undoes him completely.
"Look at you," Zohan murmurs as Dick reaches him, trailing a finger down his chest, slow and deliberate. "All that hard work, and still so wound up."
Dick’s breath stutters. He feels Zohan’s hands slide up to his shoulders, pulling him in closer, and before he knows it, their lips crash together in a heated, desperate kiss. Every bit of tension, every stray thought, every ounce of longing pours into it. Zohan’s soft sigh against his mouth only fuels him more, and he deepens the kiss, his hands finding their way to Zohan’s waist, fingers grazing over the delicate lace.
“I missed you,” Dick whispers between kisses, his voice rough with need. “You have no idea how much.”
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Zohan chuckles softly, tugging Dick closer until their bodies are pressed together, warmth radiating between them.
Dick shudders, his head falling to rest in the crook of Zohan’s neck, just breathing him in. It’s like coming home after being lost for too long. “You’re not making it easy to focus out there, you know.”
Zohan hums in amusement, running a hand through Dick’s tousled hair. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”
“I never distract you when you’re in the field!”
“Have you seen your ass in that suit?” Zohan pulls back just enough to look Dick in the eyes, his expression softening. “You’re always out there saving the world, Nightwing. But when you come home... let me save you.”
The words hit Dick square in the chest. Zohan’s touch, his presence, his understanding—it’s all Dick’s ever needed. He nods, unable to find the right words, his heart too full. Instead, he kisses Zohan again, softer this time, lingering, as if trying to convey everything he’s feeling.
Zohan smiles against his lips. "Come on, pretty bird. Let me take care of you tonight."
And for once, Dick lets himself surrender completely, knowing that in Zohan’s arms, he’s always safe.