tell me, how does that feel?

Roleplaying blog for: Jason Todd Red Hood and former Robin Height: 6' Weight: 190lbs Age: 19 Face Claim: Lucy Liu Tracking: motorcyclefetish

[motorcyclefetish]

Happy birthday Jay! Anything you want gift wrapped today?

A pony.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

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[motorcyclefetish]

When both of his hands were finally free, Jason paused, flexing his fingers with a ghost of a mischievous grin. Without the cuff he could have so easily have whipped that pistol into his hand and shot the man leading him to his death. He knew exactly where too. The femoral artery in his thigh was already right there and he knew the short amount of time it'd take Dick to bleed out if he shot it right. Which he would. Three minuets and only thirty seconds before he'd lose consciousness. He wouldn't even have a chance. 

Of course, instead he spent those minuets pondering over the power Dick's apparent trust had given him. And maybe it wasn't really trust, but for the moment, Jason was willing to believe it. And it was hard to listen to any of his negative voices as he watched Dick drag his fingers down his skin. Finally an actual touch. But it didn't do anything but rile Jason up further. It was just not enough. It was still so slow. Good thing their little conversation was a pleasant distraction even if it only increased his urgency. Jason felt that new tone shoot prickling warmth to his groin and he couldn't resist taking a glance into his eyes, drowning in him and these sensations until his mouth could work once more: "Looks to me you've already thought of a couple good answers…" He replied lowly with a smirk and an amused huff through his nose. It was beginning to be increasingly more difficult to believe what was happening. That his eyes and ears weren't lying to him. 

He took a deep breath, chest expanding out against the hand as he finally raised his hands, being as unthreatening as possible as he hooked his fingers under both layers and slowly started to pull his shirt and vest back towards his shoulders. At first he was happy for the rush of air against his increasingly heated skin, but instead of fully pulling the clothing off, he paused. Just like Dick had done.

He looked back to him, lips pressed tight and jaw clenched to show how he really felt about Dick pulling away to start that fire. Damn, the literal part of that statement wasn't the one he really wanted right now. With Nightwing's heat no longer protecting his skin, Jason felt the urge to actually remove his clothes wane sharply. It really was cold as hell out now. What little heat the desert held since the sun went down had now gone evaporated entirely.

"Where's the fun in that?" He spoke with a stubborn huff as he patted his shirt back down and left their hats and his jacket to the wind as he took his sweet time meandering towards the location Dick had chose, his cuffs and spurs broadcasting each and every movement he made with rhythmic metallic clinks.

Jason now had to face a number of problems here. The first one was to keep Dick's trust, or at least enough of it. That was a very slippery slope and it was exceedingly difficult not to do anything that could cause the wrong kind of start the closer he got to him. Two: the fact that he hated to have to share Dick's attention with the fire, which is why problem three of actually stripping the gun off (which would certainly help problem one) was difficult. He didn't want to put up with the cold unless he had Dick's complete attention. But; of course, it wasn't like he was going to just do nothing either. Jason was happy to test it out by dropping only the vest, making sure the action was loud enough without being obvious. Good thing the cloth was heavy enough to give him no actual problem there.

Damn it was cold though. Jason could feel the gooseflesh each little breeze would wash over his skin. He even had to keep his jaw clamped shut to avoid his teeth rattling around. Forced into silence really sucked.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

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[motorcyclefetish]

Jason's eyes hooded as he watched him shudder and part his lips. Well, if Dick was faking it, he was certainly doing a very good job. Just that thought made it impossible for him to relax. He was getting more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. So close to the other, stealing his heat and breath, but still nothing. It was torture really.

When Dick let go of one of his hands, he carefully moved it up, the handcuffs still attached and dragging the entire device with him as he thumbed open the first couple of buttons on his vest. He was slow about everything, making sure not to startle the other. And well, maybe he had other reasons for taking it slow as well.

He picked up his eyes again as he listened to his voice, the one that teased him now. He couldn't help the smirk as he tried to capture his gaze once more. Maybe holding it for a couple moments before he broke it once more in favour of whatever was going on between them or the way Dick's body reacted. They were so close now that just staring into his eyes felt awkward. It seemed the other had a hard time looking at him as well. Jeeze, suddenly they were both being shy.

"Depends how cozy you're thinking on keeping me." He started slowly, the hand still in the other's possession flexing as he tested to see if the other would grip it once more. He kind of needed it free if he was going to take any more clothes off. But if Dick wasn't going to let go just yet, he just started working on the buttons below his vest. "Personally…" He started as he thumbed out the third button down his shirt, finally revealing a fair amount of skin to the night air. "…I could care less about food right now." He pushed open a couple more buttons, now all the way down to his stomach. "Despite my current appetite." He grinned at himself, finally getting all the buttons open and showing off a small teasing streak of skin all the way down to his pants. 

He fought for eye contact once more, eyes deadly and mischievous under the stars. "So, Dick, gonna start that fire? Or are you just going to watch?" There was a good double entendre in there, and with the way Jason spoke it, it should have been hard to miss.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

Jason couldn't help but lick his teeth once the other brought up how loud he and his outlaws have been lately. Like they were begging to be noticed. Begging to be noticed for doing all the wrong things. And that also showed in that rough tone he used on him. A little bit of disproval, but one that only caused him to grin wider. "How else was I supposed to get your interest?" If fifty-five thousand wouldn't do the trick, nothing else would.

His eyes perked a little more once Dick started his question, grin fading only to ignite once more when his wrists were squeezed. Was he cold? Well, without the hat and jacket, yeah, it was nippy. But he was so close to the other that he barely noticed.

He didn't answer right away. His gaze wandering down to his hands as he watched the movement of Dick's thumb in the barely-there light. He didn't know what to think of it. Was the hunter doing that on purpose? Sure he's felt that kind of… affection before, but certainly not like this. Not when it seemed so important. He glanced up again, interest again raised at that suggestively spoken 'or', there was even a little start to his heart at the tone. One Dick could easily feel and one that didn't slow down as long as he kept talking and kept up that deliciously cryptic course.

Jason wasn't being dumb here. He knew how to read the signs of someone interested in him. And he's even seen it played on his own sex before. But this was also a pretty slippery slop. Nightwing's main goal was to bring him to his death. This could all be just a trap. After all, would Dick even consider doing something so wrong? Still, if nothing else, the whole thing would be fun experience. 

"Got any blankets?" Was how he decided to answer that question. Honestly, both options had good and bad parts to it. But one did have a more likeable tone. He bent his head in closer, basically stealing some of the other's breath they were that close. "I'll take it off, but you're gonna have to let go of me first." His tone dropped as his gaze skittered low along the other's neckline and back up, pulling away after lingering purposefully too long.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

His eyes were focused on Nightwing when he was working the bandana down. So focused he barely noticed how loose the hand was on his wrist. It would have been way too easy to take matters into his own hand and split right then and there. But he didn't care about all that right now. Just Nightwing. The way his lips parted. His eyelashes, eyes, every movement his jaw made. He was even only vaguely aware of the cloth until he found himself not breathing through it anymore. The crisp desert air actually felt cold in his lungs. Fresh, but cold.

But oh, that tense in the other's lips. Jason found himself swallowing at the sight. If he were bold enough, he probably would have kissed him right then and there. Good thing his uncertainty was stronger than his desire. Especially now that Nightwing had clamped his jaw shut. The picture was a lot less inviting now. Still, he couldn't help but let his gaze wonder out to the distance, waiting on the other to finally break the silence. 

And really, he was expecting more. Questions mainly. But the small talk put him at ease. He hadn't realized how tense he was until his muscles started to unwind. He glanced back to the other's face, watching as the mask came down and he gave him that little smile. Dick was still as handsome as ever. Despite the rough life, he didn't look any older. At least not where it mattered.

Jason on the other hand. He'd grown up and had the rough stubble to prove it. He was a man now, with the sad and hard eyes of someone much older, someone who'd seen too many things. 

"Been waiting for you to try and catch me." He returned with his own little smirk. Jason was standing still now. The territory now feeling surreal and even threatening despite the small talk. The ball was definitely in Nightwing's court now.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

The Outlaw couldn't take his eyes off the hunter for long. As soon as he caught that hat tipping in his peripheral, his gaze was locked on the other. He watched his hair shift in its new freedom, the way it lightly bended into his features and flipped behind his ears. His hair was slightly longer than he was expecting. He didn't know why he didn't notice until now. He had been eyeing the slight perspiration matting the other's bangs when his attention was drawn back down to his hands when he felt them studying his wrist. "Ah-ah-ah" He warned, his tone patronizing. "Careful now." He reminded slowly. Honestly, he didn't know what he was going to get out of the situation. He didn't expect much, or anything really. He knew how dangerous hopes were. But maybe… maybe sometimes he just couldn't help himself. Despite how he acted, he was still a boy, after all.

He wetted his lips under the bandana once they locked gazes once more. Yeah, he was doing a lot of hoping right now. He hated himself for it. "A corpse wouldn't." He decided to chime in with a tiny bit of criticism when Nightwing said how difficult he was making it for him. "Not that I'm complaining." He gave a shrug after, blowing the whole thing off in an attempt to keep his pulse back down. It didn't really work; 'specially when the hunter said he was going to be personally taking off more of his clothes, but at least he tried. "Lucky you."

He didn't know when he started avoiding his gaze, but once he heard that there was something else Nightwing would rather take off, his eyes were back on him, wide, inquisitive, and even knowing. At first maybe something more obscene crossed his mind (especially with that tone he used) but, there was something more obvious. Something that even Red Hood was tired of wearing.

His head tilted once all the attention was drawn to his mask, as if the other was one to talk. Really. "What can I say?" He paused to allow the other to flick his hat off. His hair curling with a slight bounce, happy to touch free air once more. The whole thing sent a chill down his spine. "I'm really into the dramatics." He waited a little longer to see what the other would do, when nothing happened, he became bold enough to make yet another advance on the other, only enough to feel more of his body heat. It was at this distance (or lack there of) that he realized he was actually looking down at him now. That was a warming thought. "And what if I am recognizable?" He asked lowly, unable to help himself.

[motorcyclefetish]

You. You are important to me. You are special to me. I see only the good in you. Please never ever change who you are. Pass this message on to as many people as you want and remember I care about you ! ♥

… … what.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

"Oh?" He sounded in amused intrigue once Nightwing saw it fit to tell him how very not shy and anti-modest he apparently was. Which was interesting. He never thought of himself particularly bold. But, then again, this was all his mask talking right now. His persona. And he supposed the Red Hood must be very bold: First to allow himself to be captured and then to talk this kind of game with the man who's prime objective was to sell him to the noose. As for modesty? Well, he didn't really figure he had it, but nor did he think the biggest of himself. Then again, there was the persona that was talking. The bold and strong shell he wore. Good to know it was working so well.

"Mood lighting, you know, I'm into that." Apparently he was into a lot of things. However, the Hood then went silent when another tug brushed his hands up against the other's… well it was hard to tell in the dark, but he'd have to say his leg. His index finger gave an involuntary twitch, but after that, he did well to keep his hands still. But, if Nightwing wanted him closer, who was he to deny him? And so, Red Hood gave one more slow step towards him, moving as he did to aid the other's search-- but he did give a good pause once the other began talking again, especially that accusation about making accusations. Those light blue eyes went wide at that one. Surprised first, then just amused as they narrowed. It was clear Nightwing wasn't insulted by whatever it was he had said to him, so there was no use getting defensive over anything. But still: "Oh? … I never said /that/." He spoke lowly, his own head tilting to match the other. 

It took him a bit to think of where Nightwing would have gotten that one from. 'You ain't like other men'? Probably. He supposed that the line could have hinted a possible act of sodomy, but it certainly didn't accuse anything. Honestly the statement was too vague to really mean anything. At the time he was pretty sure he just meant Nightwing enjoyed their back and forth. But then, maybe below it he had the hope. A hope the other dashed right then and there. Well, maybe he would of if he wasn't so obviously thinking about such… unthinkable acts.

This time he purposely twitched his finger up against the hunter's leg. "I believe you came up with that one on your own, partner." He gave a scoff into the bandana, well, he would of, if the other didn't distract him with the hand cuffs and keys. Red Hood actually looked off for those few silent moments until his cuff was unlocked. And still, he kept himself stiff right through Nightwing holding his wrist. He knew his pulse must have going crazy under that touch. Which was a shame really, it betrayed too many things.

Red Hood finally looked back to him once his hand was busy elsewhere. But it was just a glance before he turned himself and closed his eyes, rolling the sleeve of his coat off his shoulder, only to reveal a couple more layers they'd have to work through before getting to his bare arm. Just a vest and shirt, but it was going to be a pain with only one free hand. Well, that or Nightwing could attempt to roll his sleeve up, but any wrong touch and that gun might launch right into the outlaw's hands. It had a very sensitive trigger, after all.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

Red Hood was happy to let the Bounty Hunter do whatever he wished. He moved to compensate for his hands being lifted and restrained further, and he leaned away from the horse and towards him just to make it all the more easy for Nightwing to feel him out. "What can I say? I'm all about the danger." He replied to a very unthreatening threat with a tinge of humour. Something was off about the situation. And it probably wasn't just because it was the Outlaw who asked for it.

Nightwing had a lot less of his face covered and that made it all the better for Red Hood to study him. But at the same time, he felt his own body act a little against what he'd planned. When that hand reached his chest, he felt a rush of air fill his lungs, sharply, and then hitching. Not at all the display a calm he thought for sure he would of had. He fought to let the air out his nose slowly. From there he had to focus on his own breathing and the reactions his captor was making.

"You ain't most." And yet, he could still reply easily to the other. Talking was always easy. He would have continued with how he was pretty sure the other took more than kindly to this "talk", but it seems something much more interesting was happening now. Red Hood shifted again, giving him more space to feel up that single arm. Besides, he was more interested in watching the discovery take place.

"Bingo." He whispered humorously once he'd watched Nightwings eyes light up. Although, watching his pupils dilate was a bit of a surprise. Enough to make Red Hood grin under that bandana. They looked each other in the eye probably longer than necessary but it didn't matter, Red Hood welcomed it. Nightwing was practically buzzing now with intrigue and it was just perfect to watch.

"Guilty." He spoke, a little amazed the other thought he only had one escape plan but went with it anyway, even if he was completely wrong about the whole thing. The rhetorical question though; now that was a lot more interesting. "Just not in front of the horses, Mr. Nightwing, I'm terribly shy." He batted his eyelashes at him as his voice went up a few octaves. Red Hood fully understood how this was going to go and joked about it. "Or maybe get a fire goin' first." Although that one sounded a lot less humorous.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

The sharp look in his eyes once Nighting first made it obvious he wasn't going to help was quickly replaced by a smile. Or at least a slight one, one the viewer really had to be looking for in those almost-gray eyes. "Oh, you know how legends are, don't you?" He started after appreciating the other for his feigned disappointment. "How could I ever hope to live up to it?" He asked with a bit of flare as he moved back in his saddle, bound hands firmly planted in front of him on the horn. 'Dazzle' though? Nightwing was making him sound like some side show attraction. 

Red Hood gave him another look after the last comment. Sounded like a challenge. And although he knew quite a few ~dazzling~ moves he could lay down. He only chose to raise himself with his arm and stomach muscles, only enough to easily slip his right leg under himself before sliding off the saddle and neatly onto his feet with a twist of his waist and a bend of his knees. There was nothing flashy about it besides the display of upper body strength. "Ta-dah." The flourish only sarcastic. But although he wasn't helped down like his original taunt, this got Red Hood about as close to the other as his original intention anyway, so, all-in-all, it worked out in his favour.

He leaned back into the horse as he looked to the other, almost eye level now, and so, very close. And yet, strangely, not close enough. "Where'd you like to start?" He asked after a moment of watching the horse being pampered. "Or would you like to delay it further? Feed the horses maybe? Give 'em a brushin'?" He teased with a tilt of his head, happy to stay close to the horse and it's body heat (Deserts are cold at night, after all). 

He tapped the toe of his boot into the hard earth a couple of times, spur jingling each time. "Or are you just the kinda guy to appreciate a little small talk before feelin' out a man's hiding spots?" He gave him a sharp look then, almost a dangerous one. He could tell the other was curious ever since he brought up the shoulder injury, but just how curious? It was obvious the other was hesitant about getting too close (And rightly so). But which was stronger? Oh what a fun game.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

He wasn't just complaining for the sake of it. He was doing it to be casual with the other, casual bordering annoying, but mostly just to lead into the bigger question. And once asked, Red Hood kept a careful eye on the other, smirking under the bandana when their eyes finally met after hours of travel. Oh, that was promising. The thought brought a spark to his eyes, put he played it off with a bored tip of his head, showing off a little more of his brow under that floppy brim.

He let out a slow whistle when Nightwing admitted to have being injured in the very place once more in the past. "Guess I hit a bullseye."  He gave a shrug after, rerouting his gaze only after the other had changed his interests.

Red Hood wasn't sure what it was that finally got Nightwing into changing his mind about rest, but the whole thing amused him. And he wasn't afraid of showing it in his posture. Or maybe it was all the noises the hunter was making as he dismounted. Red Hood though, he stayed up on the horse, waiting. And no, he wasn't thinking of taking off now. This wasn't his horse, the thing was probably trained too well to even allow him to escape on it. Well that, and he just didn't feel like making a break for it yet.

Instead of dismounting, he pulled the reins and gave the horse a light tap with his spurs, using the horse only to move closer to the man waiting for him. Once he manoeuvred the horse so Nightwing was on his left side, he looked down at him, and held up his bound hands as if they were useless. "Little hand getting down?" He looked serious about it too. As if he really couldn't get down without making a mess of himself first.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It’s been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter “Nightwing" has captured the wanted “Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he’s never met Nightwing before… has he?

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

His brows perked up and under the brim of his floppy brown hat once he finally heard Nightwing's voice again. He didn't reply right away. Instead, he gave a long-hard look with those cold steel-blue eyes, suddenly light and clear under the moonlight. There wasn't much of his face anyone could see, but for the first time, those youthful eyes actually really did look young. Young and interested. And maybe a little intense as he studied the black figure in front of him. What little lines and fabric wrinkles the starlight would reveal to him. Despite all his taunting and the long travel, Nightwing was still at ease. But hey, so was Red Hood. "I'm confident you'll more than like my surprises." He commented finally and gave a little squeeze at the reins, wrapping the worn and sharp leather around his fist as he thought over all his fun little hidden toys.

Of course the main one on his mind was the little mechanism up his forearm that concealed a small pistol just itching to shoot out into his hand. The pistol wasn't anything like the revolvers Nightwing had confiscated from him though. The pistol could only shoot once and without much kick to it. It was good for a surprise attack. And it was perfect for situations like these. Not that Red Hood wanted to use it though. Nightwing's goal may have been to lead him to his death, but he was far from the kind of guy he would shoot in the back of the head just to save his own skin. Besides, he was confident enough he didn't need it. Honestly, he just wanted him to find it on him. That would certainly be a conversation starter.

"Gettin' hungry though." He turned his head, looking over the basically-barren dessert which was doing a good job symbolizing his empty stomach. Clearly the promise of a hanging didn't upset his guts one bit. "Bit of an ache in my back too." He eyed his captor once more before gripping the reins and bending out his spine a bit. The fall from his horse plus all this sitting was starting to collect quite the amount of tension in his lower back. One he couldn't knead away with his hands bound. But at least that pain took his mind off any other pains of ridding for too long. Especially after a high-speed chase. "How's your shoulder, by the way?" He asked after doing his best at stretching. He knew he got a good hit on the other in just before admitting defeat to him. He knew exactly where too. He knew it because he'd hit the same place on the same person five years ago. "Does it still sting?" The first time was a misunderstanding though. This time it was completely on purpose.

[motorcyclefetish]

Ain't no Place for no Hero

Setting: Western AU (1860s Central-Western America) Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: It's been many-a-long nights; but finally, the infamous bounty hunter "Nightwing" has captured the wanted "Red Hood" and intends to take him in to face trial and most certainly a hanging for his crimes. However, this is easier said than done: Red Hood is known for, among other things, an innate ability to escape the noose and his band of fellow Outlaws are still at large. But, then again, he's never met Nightwing before… has he?

It may have been a few good hours since he'd kissed his freedom goodbye (yet again), but the Red Hood looked anything but defeated by it. If anything, he was enjoying the change of company. Or at least, that was the show he was putting on. Not that he was smiling or anything, after all, he didn't need to with that trademark red cloth tied over the lower half of his face. Still, it was in his voice. His amused little tone. Just a ghost of it though. To the normal ear he just sounded bored. But to the trained ear, so much more. It was a tone meant to tease. To rile up. And he was just trying to see how far he could push his capture with it.

At first he started by simply offering a better search of himself. Red Hood's escaped capture time and time again. One could say he had a special talent from avoiding the law and slipping out of his shackles. Clearly he had to have something hidden on him to aid his escape. And oh, he did. But not just a needle up his sleeve (which he did have) But he had more pins stashed here and there into his belt, shirt, wherever just in case. Of course, he also had one he wasn't quite ready to part from under his tongue. The one he put there when he knew how the end would play out. This end.

He still remembered that moment he crashed to the dust when that black lasso hooked him and dragged him down, sending his mare free and mount-less into the wind. Then it was just another fight to ensure his plan worked, the same plan he's used before, and here he was. Saddled on a new horse, cuffed with just enough room to grasp the reins, and about eight different back up plans for his escape. 

And while he could have done something hours ago, he was all for waiting. At least, since this was such a special occasion and all. And hey, maybe the horse-back ride under the moonlight was romantic (in the traditional sense) enough to keep him hesitant. Or maybe it was just the captor himself. "Guess you're not the kinda man to stop 'til the job's done?" He quipped once the last topic was quickly shot down. "It's gotta be another twenty hours at least to another town, you really want to be walking funny as you drag your new trophy in?" And what a trophy he was. Red Hood had a good fifty-five thousand on him, dead or alive. He's killed many of worth while men. Ex veterans from the civil war, on both sides of it. He's killed owners of mines and trains as well as his own type of lawbreakers. The weird part was the lack of motivation behind every killing. Sure he'd take whatever cash he found, but nothing was ever worth the trouble he's collected for himself. At least nothing any sane man could find.

"Then you can give me that body search you owe me." He leaned a bit in his saddle, knowing exactly why it was pertinent to move quickly. After all, if Arsenal or Starfire could easily be following, waiting for the moment to save their leader. No, the best idea was to make sure he lost any sort of pursuer before finally succumbing to rest. 

[holy-batlogic]

Hate Is Deaf

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Wayne Penthouse Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: Home is where they understand you? [An alternate ending to Battle for the Cowl, in which Jason takes the hand that was offered to him.]

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[motorcyclefetish]

Jason had every intention of protesting against Dick escaping from under him and he probably would have if the heat wasn't just that bad. And sweaty. And sticky. Sex was pretty gross and once the negative after-effects started to set in, Jason was more than content to dump himself off the other body. In fact, his next plan of action was to shower. Something he would have headed straight towards once he got his breath completely back… if Dick didn't decide that cuddle time was a thing they did now.

Jason was still on his stomach when he felt those hot, long arms around his still too-hot skin. His first instinct was to groan against the invading body heat. But once he realized what was going on, he turned himself, at first curving away from Dick, maybe giving him a shove or two to broadcast how not-sold he was on the idea, but eventually he ended up rolling onto his side with a grunt and allowing Dick all the backside he could want to cuddle up against.

Jason could feel Dick's nose and breath against his skin, that plus the strong arms around him made his heart flutter against his will. It forced his eyes shut. He had to tell himself to calm down, because with this proximity, Dick could no-doubt feel the heart beat that was supposed to have relaxed by now.

But no matter how hard he tried, there was still a pounding in his ears. And that's about the time he realized how uncharacteristically silent it had become between them. Sure Dick was loud during sex. Hell, he even screamed at the end of it. But after? Not a word.

He better not be falling asleep back there. Jason would be super pissed off if he had to stay this way while Dick caught up on sleep. And don't get him wrong, he was certainly tired enough for a nap. But not like this. Not with come smeared all over him. Not in someone's embrace. He's never done that before. And honestly, as much as his heart fluttered and it really did feel nice. He wasn't exactly comfortable in the experience. It was way too new. He liked Dick holding him. He couldn't deny that. He liked that it was something Dick wanted to do. He wanted to keep him close and not let go. But damn was it inconvenient. Especially when Jason's current goal in life was to get a fucking shower.

It was weird that Dick's body still felt so new against his own. When he was horny, Jason barely noticed how it felt. Well he did. Just not in this particular way. He knew all about the heat, tastes, and pleasure it could offer. But, this was really, really different. This was the warmth and safety. This felt more like a promise. One Jason really wanted to hear.

Jason, who's eyes were half-open and staring across the room, started to feel a bitter-sweet sting and the only cure seemed to be dragging a sheet towards him. Just something to clutch as he felt Dick's breath deepen behind him. About the time he squeezed his eyes shut, he finally started relaxing in Dick's arms. Well, he forced himself to.

[holy-batlogic]

Hate Is Deaf

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Wayne Penthouse Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: Home is where they understand you? [An alternate ending to Battle for the Cowl, in which Jason takes the hand that was offered to him.]

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[motorcyclefetish]

At first, Jason frowned when Dick brought up that little comment about staying the night just to use the gym. They both should have known what a statement like that could have meant, so to be used in that way when it was already so hard for Jason to say… Well, it almost felt insulting. Or maybe it was just frustrating. Actually it was a bunch of things. And thanks to the way in which Dick said it, along with his movements. Everything just got a little fuzzy and blended. He wondered if that's what usually happened in "relationships". You say one thing that borders romantic, only for it to come back teased with a flipped meaning and… well, all about sex, the next. But still, there was a nice promise in that voice. He wanted Dick to have the master bedroom. He didn't think he could convince him out of his plans. But this, this was looking promising.

He cooly shrugged off that spark of annoyance as Dick came closer, finding an amused grin as he watched the other's body come to life as he looked him up and down. That was a nice feeling: The assurance that Dick really, really was attracted to him. That he wanted him. The reminder coaxed him closer, eased him into any bold moves and touches.

As soon as he had the chance, his hands were moving along scars and toned skin. "Keep acting like that and we might not even make it there." He whispered almost darkly as he pulled Dick with him up the stairs. He couldn't take his hands away though, and if anything the space between them only shortened. They didn't even get all the way up the stairs before their lips were used for more than just those vulgar promises Dick had asked for. Which was more than alright, Jason was still awkward with dirty talk. He was more cryptic than sexy about it. But at least he had the right tone for it: He could whisper, his voice could drop, and run smooth almost naturally. 

But sometimes he'd rather just let his actions speak for him. And with the amount of restlessness and turbulence flowing through him from looking over Gotham, he was all too eager to take it out on the other. Against walls, doors, whatever, Jason had pinned him to and encouraged the same treatment as they "toured" the remaining floor of the penthouse, leaving bread crumbs of clothing as they went. Heck, by the time they actually made it to the bedroom, Jason was only left in his boxer-briefs, which never even made it to the bed. The same bed they didn't even bother taking the white cloth down from. But the disturbance peeled it towards them, revealing the corners and edges of the mattress as it moaned under their weight and energy.

Foreplay was over almost as soon as Dick's back found the mattress, Jason didn't allow for much more wasted time. He had a leg over his shoulder and pushed and twisted the other body to his liking. A position that shifted and changed in their delirious haste. Eventually, Jason had pushed Dick enough that most would have pulled a groin muscle, but the circus boy's "talent" allowed for both the hard and relentless thrusts that were just so Jason as well as the almost-intimacy the younger craved.

They weren't exactly face-to-face anymore, but Jason could still taste the wet skin on Dick's neck and shoulder as he panted and moaned into it. And while one hand was keeping and massaging Dick's strained thigh, the other had rolled along the exposed chest, and eventually came to cup his jaw, keeping his head close and pulling just enough for those sloppy things that could almost be kisses.

If it wasn't for the fact that Jason's neediness was expressed mostly in ferocity, it could have been almost romantic. But no, this could still only be fucking. It was hard, heated, and consuming, it left bruises and bite marks. It took away so much and left them nothing but exhausted. 

When Jason came, he didn't feel a complete satisfaction. Not like he could before. It was distressing. It was the first real proof that he did want more. This was fantastic still the best sex he's ever had. But, now it just wasn't enough. Worst was he didn't know what else he wanted to make it better. But it wasn't really something he could angst over as he panted into Dick's skin and collected himself between his legs.

For the first few minuets they both spent post-orgasm (and no longer all twisted up), Jason just didn't have the even slightest urge to move. That was new for him.

[holy-batlogic]

Hate Is Deaf

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Wayne Penthouse Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: Home is where they understand you? [An alternate ending to Battle for the Cowl, in which Jason takes the hand that was offered to him.]

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[motorcyclefetish]

When Dick stayed away from him after the shove, Jason felt no urge to close that gap. Dick was laughing. Jason was annoyed. That was that. Judging by Dick's… dick, he wasn't ready for anything. Jason knew he could go. But, well, he guess he'd just have to account for the six years Dick had on him. It was never a problem with the women Jason's been with. When his young age was a blessing in that kind of situation. Maybe that's why Jason's never spent that long in Dick's bed. There was only so long they could distract each other with sex.

Which lead into what else was going on between them. Those unspoken things. Just yesterday Jason was so sure Dick was hinting at more. The same "more" Jason warned him about. And then today, not hours ago, Dick pulled that Facebook stunt on him. But… what did that really mean? Jason had a good idea. But, well, he's still never done this before. And he was second guessing enough that he needed a little more than a status change on fucking Facebook. 

But of course he wouldn't bring it up either. He just couldn't do that.

He still wasn't even sure he wanted more. Well, that's not true. He wanted it. He wanted Dick to love him and touch him without it just being about sex. He knew how much he wanted affection in his life. Sex was just the only way he's been able to get it. Sex was just the only way he could feel wanted. Sex was the safe way to go. And with the dangers of getting attached, Jason was all about the safe. But, he also knew he wanted more. He just didn't know if he was willing to risk it. He didn't know if he wanted it with Dick. Even if it was Dick he's reached out to the most over the years; Dick also had this innate habit of letting him down. Dick was also complicated. And yet... how much he thought of what it would be like for the other man to make love to him. Which were some pretty pathetic times, really. But who better than Dick Grayson? Who else made him feel this strongly anymore?

He glanced over his shoulder when Dick started to leave the balcony, his hands clenching at the wind once more before filling his fists in the railing. He pushed, but didn't turn to head in. Not yet. Not after allowing himself to think over how easy it would be just to get out of here and save himself.

But then, would that really save him? No. He'd just fall back into the same hell. But at least he could help fix the world. He'd be able to do good rather than just locked up and frustrated. But doing that good destroyed him. Maybe he should allow himself this guilty pleasure a little longer? Even if it was difficult. Even if it hurt. Just for a little longer… he could be Dick's little caged bird.

He sneered at the thought. Or maybe it was that little comment about spanking. He turned at that and followed the older man back into the safety of the penthouse, frowning as he slid the door shut behind him. "Oh, big daddy, bend me over your knee. I'm so naughty. Oh, daddy, punish me." He used a faux-breathless and even high-pitched voice; obviously emulating bad porno dialog. He even decided to, with his back still turned, to bend his spine in enough to push his butt out into the other's direction. But as soon as the words finished he looked over his shoulder, giving the other a dead-panned expression. "Yeah. No." He hoped his problem with the kink would be rather obvious now.

Spanking, to him, got a little too close to parental authority. And he wasn't too into the idea of that getting that mixed up with his sex drive. And it really didn't help that he was currently banging Batman. It was already getting a little too close to his obvious daddy issues.  

And yet at the same time he could see the appeal. That was the worst part.

He quickly turned away from the glass, leaving his fingerprints (as if he had any) behind and moving past the other. He was about ready for this tour to end and he was even happier to leave what would soon be his new room. Well, after it's been furbished and whatever.

"Thought the master was going to Alfs?" He commented playfully as he ascended the spiralling staircase, turning to look the other down and smirking. "I don't want you to tease me with it." Oh yeah, he was still very interested in a round two. That was something he wasn't afraid to broadcast.

[holy-batlogic]

Hate Is Deaf

[holy-batlogic]

Setting: Wayne Penthouse Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd Plot: Home is where they understand you? [An alternate ending to Battle for the Cowl, in which Jason takes the hand that was offered to him.]

Read More

[motorcyclefetish]

Oh. Jason wasn't even trying to bullshit anyone here. He was making a joke about it actually. One that pointed fingers at both of them to add to the humour. But yes, Jason only had a minute or so to look and already he's picked out at least seven different routes he could go; keeping in mind his lack of toys. And better than that: he's spotted dozens of areas he could lose any pursuers in if he needed the detour. It was something he couldn't help but do. Somehow it took the edge off of Gotham to study it piece by piece instead of taking the whole cess-of-filth in at one glance. But then, of course, his mind went straight to business without pausing for the sights. Basically the same thing happens anywhere, not just Gotham. Besides, it's not like he even needed to study it. Gotham's barely changed, he still knew all its little tricks. Memorized them long before he even became Robin.

But now Dick was moving in on him more, stealing all of his attention away from the streets. He turned his head more, watching him. His eyes, his movements. And yeah, even Jason realized how much of an obstacle his shoulder was being. He knew he should move it out of the way if this was to work better. He just didn't want to.

His brow perked at the other's words. He needed more 'seduction'? Well, maybe Jason didn't want to seduce him. And, honestly, he didn't. Well, that wasn't true. He was just, really out of his element at the moment. There were too many things on his mind or filling the back of it for him to grow the balls to do that. Because yes, he was still a little weird with initiating. He had to feel good about himself to be able to. And he just didn't right now. He felt, well, almost lost. Especially when it came for what to do.

Which was sad seeing as Dick was basically already out of his clothes. Out of them and pressed against him. Ah, who knows. It'd probably be a different story if the other was pressing something hard against him. Something that really screamed at Jason for attention. But really, knowing that thing was all limp and floppy wasn't much of an incentive. And yet still, despite his swirling self-doubt, Jason was starting up that slope of arousal. It wasn't overly noticeable thanks to the fact that he was actually wearing pants, but depending on how long Dick gave him that smile, it could quickly become something bordering obvious. Jason might not be up for seducing right now, but he was always up for being seduced. Which, yeah, wasn't fair. But just natural for someone who needed to feel wanted.

"I was hoping you'd take the lead on that one, ~lovebird~." He commented, almost bored, but an edge in his voice that said how seriously he took the matter of that ~romantic~ talk they apparently were supposed to be having. Obviously if Jason was talking about romance, he wasn't being sincere. Or maybe he was, and just trying to hide it behind his sarcasm. Because, after all, there was something he wanted to clear up with Dick… but other than that, romance wasn't exactly his thing (not that he's ever tried) and he was more than happy to express that.

Then there was the damn slap to his ass. His eyes flew open and he jerked a bit, even flushing a tiny, tiny bit. What the ever living fuck was that about?! Whatever it was, it more-or-less killed his arousal. Let it be known he wasn't actually into spanking. Or if he was he certainly didn't want to be. For a couple good reasons anyway.

He gave Dick a hard shove with his shoulder after that one. Not enough to hurt, but just telling him how much he appreciated it. He then proceeded to look away. Putting his attention elsewhere but that seductive smile. "Makes me nauseous, but I suppose I could invest in some curtains." The way he used his voice, it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Then he shrugged. "Guarantee this view's better than the other one." The one he could most likely see his old 'neighbourhood' from. "Well, Mr. Grayson, I'm sold." Finally he looked back at him, face almost blank: It was his raised brows searching him that gave anything away. But what they were searching for was anyone's guess. "When can I move in?"