Just dropping a bit of DC fluff on you guys before I post my sinful piece of Hamilton fiction. Enjoy!
"That," Tim's voice is sharp, disbelieving, "was about the most useless punch I've ever seen."
I tilt my head a bit further into Dick's knee. His fingers work idly through my hair, nails blunt against my scalp. "Yeah, the choreography is pretty awful," he agrees, sounding unimpressed but still cheerful. "Did you see that kick? Totally telegraphed and inefficient."
The snort leaves my throat before I can control it, and then I just roll with it. "Says Mr. 'I'll just do a backflip in the middle of combat because I can.' " My voice comes out low and rumbling.
Until his fingers tighten and give a small tug. "Behave," Dick murmurs. "I don't telegraph."
"Why do I even let you two watch movies anymore?" I grumble without any real feeling, obeying the press of his fingers as they push my head forward a few inches.
"Because Dick's inability to sit still means you get head rubs," Tim breaks in, and I glance up at him. He's sitting next to Dick on my couch, legs stretched out and propped up on the coffee table. I'm between Dick's legs, back against the couch and arms loose in my lap. "You know it's true."
I manage a small shrug before Dick's fingers distract me again. This time by slipping down out of my hair and to either side of my jaw. They tilt my head back, arching my throat as he guides my head to rest at his hip. I give a nearly soundless groan, closing my eyes as his fingers return to my scalp. The movie plays in the background, but I give up any attempt at actually watching it.
"Just using me, huh?" Dick's tone is light and teasing. His hands trail down the back of my neck, hooking two fingers between my skin and the leather collar that sits low and snug around my throat. My breath catches for a moment at the increased pressure on my windpipe.
One of his hands slides forward to loop fingers through the metal ring at the front of the collar, the other backwards to curl firmly in my hair. He holds my head still with that grip, but tugs upwards with the ring. My throat is forced into an arch and I go with it, letting my back curve away from the couch to make it easier on my neck. He tugs a little bit on my hair, a nonverbal order to stay still, before he lets go and strokes his hand down my back and beneath my shirt.
"Movie's a lost cause, hm?" Tim comments, idly. I hear him shift closer, and then I feel his lips brush against mine. Dryer than Dick's, and with a sharp precision of movement that Dick doesn't have. "You really should pay Dick back; we all know you love the talent his fingers have." His lips draw away from mine. "What are you in the mood for, Dick?"
His nails dig into my back, raking back up my spine, and I arch a little farther under his touch. "I think I want to tie him down and take my time. You'd let me do that, wouldn't you, Jason?"
I groan and then give a short laugh, flicking my eyes open to look between my two lovers and frequent — but only when this leather collar is around my throat — masters. "As you wish."
