[ It's torture, knowing how hard Dick is under those well-pressed trousers, knowing they had to clear a lobby of people who don't know any better, who don't know what it's like to be in bed with one of Gotham's most prominent scions, to be so intimately aware of what he likes, what turns him on quicker than a flash of light, and just what makes him so desperately ravenous for more that he jumps on him the moment the doors close.
It starts with well-tailored suits, an expensive dinner, soft words and promises whispered into his ear earlier in the evening. It starts with Matt's hand on his thigh underneath the table of Gotham's most expensive restaurant, one that has a space perpetually available for Dick Grayson (as it should, he'd bought the damn place). And while lavish displays of opulence don't usually sway him either way, Dick's passion does, and he baits that hunger that simmers beneath the surface, just waiting for that one spark to light it up.
Matt tells him exactly how he wants to be fucked, right there in the course between oysters and the filet mignon, just before they serve the finest bottle of white wine the city has -- flown in especially for Dick's sampling. He tells him how he aches to have that cock buried inside him just to hear the way his heart rate speeds up, the heat that flares under his skin.
He keeps his hand on Dick's thigh as they finish up the oysters.
And now here they are, no holds barred, when Matt is starved of Dick's promises and kisses him right back, demanding and wanting, hands deftly unzipping and pushing his pants off his hips -- he hates that there's still so much fabric between them as much as he loves the feeling of Dick's teeth sinking into his ear, his skin, everywhere, and he's slammed up against the full-length window that he knows overlooks the city. Shit, he loves how wild Dick is, how he's unrestrained in his desire, that powerful thing that thrums in his veins.
They make love, fuck like two wild animals, wolves that circle each other before going for the kill -- and Dick's hunger is what he appreciates in the privacy of these walls, when he practically tears the other man's clothes off to run hands down his chest, his torso, palming his cock and giving it two, three long strokes.
Closer, he wants to be closer; and when they're finally nude, he presses them flush together, letting him feel just how hard he is, that earlier blowjob in the car having done little to take the edge off. ]
You know I want that. [ His words are low and soft, a gasp cut-off when Dick keeps him pinned. He turns around, pressing back against the other man's chest and he feels reckless and alive. His hands come around back to grip Dick's ass, appreciating just how firm it always is as he tugs him close, easing the other man's cock between his thighs for the moment, a promise and a glimpse of what is to come. ] Did I tell you how I slicked myself up inside before dessert? [ In between ferocious, hungry kisses: ] Two fingers, that bathroom, five minutes. Thought of you all the while.
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[ It's torture, knowing how hard Dick is under those well-pressed trousers, knowing they had to clear a lobby of people who don't know any better, who don't know what it's like to be in bed with one of Gotham's most prominent scions, to be so intimately aware of what he likes, what turns him on quicker than a flash of light, and just what makes him so desperately ravenous for more that he jumps on him the moment the doors close.
It starts with well-tailored suits, an expensive dinner, soft words and promises whispered into his ear earlier in the evening. It starts with Matt's hand on his thigh underneath the table of Gotham's most expensive restaurant, one that has a space perpetually available for Dick Grayson (as it should, he'd bought the damn place). And while lavish displays of opulence don't usually sway him either way, Dick's passion does, and he baits that hunger that simmers beneath the surface, just waiting for that one spark to light it up.
Matt tells him exactly how he wants to be fucked, right there in the course between oysters and the filet mignon, just before they serve the finest bottle of white wine the city has -- flown in especially for Dick's sampling. He tells him how he aches to have that cock buried inside him just to hear the way his heart rate speeds up, the heat that flares under his skin.
He keeps his hand on Dick's thigh as they finish up the oysters.
And now here they are, no holds barred, when Matt is starved of Dick's promises and kisses him right back, demanding and wanting, hands deftly unzipping and pushing his pants off his hips -- he hates that there's still so much fabric between them as much as he loves the feeling of Dick's teeth sinking into his ear, his skin, everywhere, and he's slammed up against the full-length window that he knows overlooks the city. Shit, he loves how wild Dick is, how he's unrestrained in his desire, that powerful thing that thrums in his veins.
They make love, fuck like two wild animals, wolves that circle each other before going for the kill -- and Dick's hunger is what he appreciates in the privacy of these walls, when he practically tears the other man's clothes off to run hands down his chest, his torso, palming his cock and giving it two, three long strokes.
Closer, he wants to be closer; and when they're finally nude, he presses them flush together, letting him feel just how hard he is, that earlier blowjob in the car having done little to take the edge off. ]
You know I want that. [ His words are low and soft, a gasp cut-off when Dick keeps him pinned. He turns around, pressing back against the other man's chest and he feels reckless and alive. His hands come around back to grip Dick's ass, appreciating just how firm it always is as he tugs him close, easing the other man's cock between his thighs for the moment, a promise and a glimpse of what is to come. ] Did I tell you how I slicked myself up inside before dessert? [ In between ferocious, hungry kisses: ] Two fingers, that bathroom, five minutes. Thought of you all the while.