you knew dick grayson was going to sing like a bird in bed the second you landed your eyes on him. he was witty, quick to talk back in any other situation and it translated to a very vocal partner who wouldn't shut up while you were pounding him raw. he liked the banter before getting fucked seven days to sunday, and if it meant you saying dirty stuff to him then the vigilante wouldn't hesitate to become a brat, a slut, a desperate whore who needed you, a cocky hero who challenged you.
"ah-and here i though i was gonna get– mgh! properly manhandled, maybe if i go to fuck! mmhgghh" and sometimes you too would twist the words you knew he wanted to hear: a jealous boyfriend pushing just your tip into his hole, stopping him from moving. "no, no, you were saying? maybe if you go to whom, exactly?" and so he'll trash his mouth and either beg for it or provoke you to rail him harder.
then you'll be the mean lover, not caring if you missed his prostate with every thrust or if your hold in his hands stopped him from touching his own throbbing cock. "isn't this what you wanted, grayson? being fucked, right? then fucking take it, and be good 'cause you're gonna cum without touching your clit". and he would shiver from pleasure, moaning out before moving to fuck himself farther into you.
"please, please please, please fuck, so close, I can't like this– i caAagh–n't please" and it sometimes would take a long time for him to be good and ask for it, but he'd get there eventually. other times all you could hear were praises, for your cock, your legs, mouth, even your knees when he was horny enough to get off by just grinding into you, it really depended of the mood.
if it was a rough night: "just fucking get in, need it now, c'mon... yeah yeah, oh god. yes, yes. deeper, all the way in, fuck." and he would cry out, moan your name so demanding and you had to at least put him through two orgasms to fuck the stress and anger out of him. and if it was a wonderful weekend: "i love your tongue, i really really do, yes! keep eating me out– ah ah ah ah mmhmmm". his moans and keening voice would be so sweet you didn't have it in you to stop. you would do as asked, making him feel all loved and full that any other thought in his mind would come second to your cock.
you liked not knowing what yo expect each time he came to you to get filled, used. he would even salivate just by looking at you when you opened your door for him, his mouth already anticipating that it needed to be wet, either if you were to make him gag on your length or to be a talkative slut, a singing bird showing off his vocal range even after three or five orgasms. his mouth would still salivate even then, the wet spots all over the mattress, the kitchen table and your own shirts being proof of that.