I4.6

Chapter 2: Wet Wood

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike nudity and other sexual things.

Author's Note: Thanks to .Red for my very first review! It's been a while since I've written anything and dark RobRae is definitely an underappreciated and underserved category. I will try my best to do justice by them. On another note, I know that I use "Robin," "Dick," and Richard" interchangeably, but I do it with a purpose so pay attention. Besides, we get to spend a whole chapter with him.

Robin's personal bathroom is one of the few luxuries he allows himself. As his team's leader he believes that he must set the example for his subordinates. He has a strict schedule that needs to be followed with very little down time. He wakes up at 5am every morning and spends an hour or so working on his mobility and flexibility. He can stretch and contort himself into and out of various positions with ease. This ability has taken his enemies by surprise on more than one occasion. His physique does not seem like it would bend that easily.

Morning stretches are followed by breakfast, intel organization, team training, lunch, recon (if necessary), solo training, dinner, socializing with the team, bedtime stretches and finally sleep. Standard. Typical. This routine comforts him just like his beloved bathroom. The walls and bath were made out of Hinoki Cypress wood, which is commonly found in Japanese bathhouses. Even the floor was made out of wood instead of cold tile. The scent of wet wood is always welcoming and helps to ease his frayed nerves after a busy day of "leading" and controlling his need to control.

Richard Grayson is not delusional. He knows himself well enough to know that his need to be in control is the reason why he works so hard at leading his team. The only other member in the group who could possibly rival him for leadership would be Cyborg. If Robin were being honest, and the only place he could be truly honest is in his own bathroom, there are parts of Cyborg's personality that would make for a better leader. He is also a meticulous man who knows the importance of information in winning. He genuinely cares about his teammates and is willing to spend time with them. Helping Cyborg "work on the car" is really just an impromptu therapy session that even Dick has benefitted from. He is a good man with a good heart.

Robin appreciates his friend's presence and his ability to sooth the team during their more volatile times. Not having to juggle teenage emotions and hormones frees up more time for Robin to focus on the mechanics of running an effective team. He does not have to be burdened by Starfire's feelings of lust towards him or her frustration at not understanding the world she has chosen to live in. He doesn't have to be saddled with Cyborg's lost of humanity and hope for a "regular" life. He doesn't need to think too hard about Beastboy's maturing instincts and what that means for his crush on Raven. Cyborg is there to ease the tension and rationally talk himself and his teammates towards a better path.

Yet, for all of the help and support that his metallic friend provides, Richard Grayson could not help but to resent him. He knew why the members of his team didn't automatically seek him out for emotional support. He understood their trepidation. He is silently grateful that they look elsewhere, but at the same time what was he really lacking in the emotional support department? Nothing makes his blood boil more than seeing Raven turn to Cyborg for aid in her dark moments instead of him. Everyone else, he could understand, but they shared a mental connection. A bond that cannot be ignored, replicated or destroyed. Shouldn't they be working together to make it stronger? More secure? She should be coming to him for comfort. Reaching out to him and no one else.

Richard would never forget the hot sting of betrayal he had felt at seeing the embrace Raven and Cyborg shared in the garage after one of their "sessions." Her face was buried in his neck, arms locked tight around his shoulders, and her feet were completely dangling off the ground. Cyborg had his arms wrapped around her while he whispered sweet words of support and encouragement in her ear. He felt like an intruder. A voyeur. A stranger as he watched her nod along to whatever the older man was saying. When Cyborg finally set Raven back on her feet, he saw her wipe stray tears away from the corner of her eyes. They smiled sweetly at each other and Richard could have torched the place and buried them both.

"Are my shoulders not good enough for you Rachel?" he absentmindedly thinks to himself as he fills his expensive wooden bathtub with warm water. Richard glances at himself in the full length mirror on the wall. He stands and walks toward it on bare feet. He analyzes his own features while listening to the water behind him. "I am pretty handsome," he says to himself as he takes in the angles of his face. Defined cheekbones. A strong jawline with some dark stubble growing through. A sharp nose that is slightly bent to the right from being broken one too many times. A wide mouth that houses straight, white teeth are covered by thin lips. Curtesy of Wayne Enterprises impeccable dental care. Sharp blue-grey eyes travel lower, taking in the curve of his Adam's apple in relation to his muscular neck. "This is the neck she should have cried into."

Richard slowly peels off his grey sleeveless Under Armour shirt. Sighing in relief as the sweat soaked material is removed from his skin. A callous left hand reaches up to lightly caress the blooming bruise on his right shoulder. His prize for taking down Cyborg in today's training session. "I did it. I won. I'm better than him," are his thoughts as a small smile ghost over his lips. Richard's left hand moves across his hard chest and runs down the expanse of his abs. 8 in total. All defined and twitching from the day's training and the feel of his own clammy hands. Both hands work on the knot of his pants. Easing both the pants and the briefs over and underneath his semi erection. A slight hiss escapes his lips as he is freed from confinement and allows all his clothing to drop to the wooden floor.

Two strong hands run down the length of his hips, over his firm ass and land on his thighs. Richard assesses himself in the mirror. His legs are as strong and muscular as the rest of him. Calve and thigh muscles contract and release on command as he studies and silently critiques himself. He is sturdy and flexible. In perfect health. Blood flows unhindered throughout his whole body. From the tips of his toes, to his sensitive cock, to the pads of his fingers, to the sharpness of his eyes. His skin was supple thanks to his daily herb infused soaks in the tub which inadvertently helps with the scaring. A life of fighting crime has left him with his share of souvenirs ranging from stab wounds, to cuts to stray bullet wounds here and there. His body has endured some things. He has endured some things. All these things came together to create a dangerously attractive package.

"Who wouldn't want me?" he thinks to himself as he turns off the faucet in the tub and grabs a wash cloth. He lathers it up and begins working from the top down. Lightly scrubbing on the areas that are bruised and kneading into the parts that ache from strain and tension. It would be nice if there were another pair of hands here that can help him reach the places on his back that are hard to get to. Small hands. Pale hands. Soft hands. With callouses on the middle and ring fingers from writing. Richard shakes his head at that very specific detail. Who does he know with hands like that? Maybe one of his previous flings from boarding school? His first hand-job was in the back of a beautiful woman's car at the tender age of 12. She thought that by seducing him that she could get closer to Bruce Wayne. The man, the myth, the legend. It obviously didn't work. He left a mess on her nice upholstery and never looked back. He just wanted to be touched.

A dry chuckle escapes his throat as the memories of previous entanglements with women cause his semi-erection to jump. He ignores it and continues scrubbing down the length of his thighs, calves and toes. As he washes himself, he realizes that his erection won't go away and will need to be dealt with. So, with practiced ease, he wraps his right hand around the base of his cock, closes his eyes and starts to stroke. He continues a steady pace as he thinks about Starfire's body outlined in the afternoon sky.

Tight gym shorts that highlighted the roundness of her toned ass and muscular thighs.

His nimble fingers smearing the pre-cum across his sensitive tip and under the head.

He tracked the sway of her hips in his mind's eye. Practically could hear the swish as the fabric of her shorts brush together. Imagining the tangy taste of salty sweat that he would lick off of her back.

Richard let out a rush of air through his nose as he tightens his hold on himself and pumps faster. Making sure to rub the underside of the head on his thick erection. "That's the sweet spot."

He had watched this beautiful alien princess bend over at the waist to retrieve a gym bag on the ground. His 20/20 vision honed in on the outline of feminine lips through those tight purple shorts. He had noticed her curious green eyes glance his way while in that bent position. "Yes. I see you." She had looked away, but he knew she was wet. Saw it in the way she rubbed her legs together on the walk back to the tower. Friction. Those wet lips craved friction.

A hiss escapes Richard's mouth as his rhythm becomes more chaotic. He leans his head back and scrunches his brows together. Both chasing release and trying to delay it. Sweet friction.

Wet lips...wet lips latched around a water bottle. Suck. Wet lips latched around his cock. Suck. The tip of a small tongue darting to lick the moisture...the sticky string of pre-cum connecting the tip of his dick to the tip of her tongue...suck.

"Fuck!" came an audible groan as a very desperate man stroked himself with one hand and used his other hand to palm the head of his engorged dick. He was going to cum soon.

Soft, round cheeks cave in with every suck. Nostrils flare as half closed almond shaped eyes glances up at him. Violet mets blue-grey…

There is violent twitching in Richard's hands. The man is mildly confused, but his instincts are not. Either way, he has to see this through to the end.

A large right hand brushes violet strains of short hair away from a chin that is slippery with her saliva and a jaw stretched wide to fit him. Soft tongue working the tip and underside of his painfully stiff dick. That large hand cradles the back of her head and holds her steady as his hips start pushing forward. Slipping and sliding down her throat. Sweet friction sucking him in. They stay like this. Eyes on each other. Her lips sealed around the base of his cock, the length of him encased in her throat, his girth stretching her in a way she was clearly not used to. His thumb wipes away a tear from her eye as she tries to pull back, but his hand stops her from moving. He feels the tightening in his balls and the twitching at his tip as he…

cums all over his precious wooden floors.

"What the fucking hell was that?!" Richard angrily whispers to himself as he sprawls out on the floor. Never in all of the years that he has known Raven has he ever thought of her in that way, much less have her be the star of a fantasy as he beats his meat. It must be because of what he saw in the training fields today. It caught him off guard. It was a one time thing. She is a beautiful young woman, for sure, but more importantly, she is his friend.

Richard tries his best to rationalize what just happened as he wipes the evidence of his fantasy up off the floor. Then he eases himself into his bathtub and tenses a little as the warmth touches his sensitive crotch. A deep sigh escapes him as he lays in his fancy tub, in his beloved private bathroom, where he can think his dirty thoughts and the rest of the world can't judge him for it.

As he lays there with his eyes closed, he thinks about his relationship with the women he works with. There is no denying that he cares about both Starfire and Raven. He doesn't want to see them hurt or scared or alone. They both deserve the world. However, if there is ever a choice between the two, Robin would chose both, but Richard would always chose Rachel.

Next chapter will contain a lot of the one thing that I hate writing: dialogue. Ugh. Stay safe and sane.

Nah-Bruh2020