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Dick Grayson slammed the door to his Gotham apartment with more force than strictly necessary, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent space. He tossed his keys onto the small table by the entrance, the jingle a discordant note in his already sour mood. Bruce. *Bruce*. The man had the audacity to ask Dick to cover *three* galas today. Three! And for what? So Bruce could… well, Dick didn't even know. Probably something equally as dull and self-important as the galas themselves.

His tie, a stiff, overly formal thing, felt like a noose. He ripped it off, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt with a frustrated sigh. The silk of the shirt felt itchy against his skin, a constant reminder of the forced smiles and insipid conversations he’d endured for hours. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, a growl rumbling in his chest.

And patrol. Don’t even get him started on patrol. It had been… nothing. Absolutely nothing. A few purse snatchers, quickly dealt with, and a couple of teenagers spray-painting a wall. He’d craved something, anything, to release the pent-up energy, the simmering frustration that had been building all day. But no, Gotham had decided to be unusually calm, leaving Dick to stew in his own irritation.

He stalked into the kitchen, his gaze falling on the pristine countertop. He imagined shattering something, anything, just to feel a release. He resisted, barely. He was a professional, dammit. He was Nightwing. He was *supposed* to be in control. But right now, all he felt was a volatile mix of boredom, anger, and a deep-seated need for… something.

Just as he was about to rummage through the fridge for a late-night snack he didn't really want, a blur of red and yellow appeared in his living room, followed by the soft whoosh of displaced air. Wally.

"Rough day, huh, D?" Wally's voice was light, but his eyes, a vibrant green, were already assessing Dick's rigid posture, the tight set of his jaw. He was still in his civvies, a comfortable-looking hoodie and jeans, looking entirely too relaxed for Dick's current state of mind.

Dick just grunted, turning to face him, arms crossed over his chest. "You have no idea."

Wally, ever the perceptive one, didn't push. He simply walked over to Dick, his movements fluid and unhurried despite his usual speed. He reached out, his warm hand settling on Dick's shoulder, his thumb gently stroking the fabric of his shirt. "Tell me about it."

Dick scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Bruce. Galas. Three of them. And then patrol was a bust. Nothing. I feel like I'm going to explode." He punctuated the last word with a frustrated gesture, throwing his hands up in the air before letting them fall back to his sides.

"Mm-hmm," Wally hummed, his touch still a comforting anchor. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Dick's temple. "Sounds like you need to blow off some steam."

Dick just glared at him, a spark of something unreadable in his eyes. "You think?"

Wally's grin was slow, mischievous, and utterly captivating. He moved his hand from Dick's shoulder, letting it slide down his arm, his fingers intertwining with Dick's. "I know just the thing."

Before Dick could even process the words, Wally had moved. It wasn't a blur, not exactly, more like a sudden shift, a displacement of space. One moment, Wally was in front of him, the next, Dick found himself pressed against the cool, smooth surface of his kitchen counter. The shock of it, the unexpected contact, made him gasp.

Wally's body was flush against his, pinning him in place. His hands, strong and warm, were already at Dick's waist, holding him steady. Dick’s breath hitched. The suddenness, the possessive way Wally had moved, sent a jolt through him, a jolt that was entirely different from the frustration that had been plaguing him.

"Wally," Dick breathed, his voice a little shaky.

Wally's eyes, usually so lighthearted, were now dark with an intensity that made Dick's stomach clench. "You're frustrated, aren't you, baby?" His voice was a low rumble against Dick's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "All that pent-up energy, nowhere to go."

Dick swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He could feel Wally's hips pressed against his, the hard ridge of his erection a tantalizing presence. "Wally, what are you—"

Wally cut him off with a soft, possessive kiss, his lips pliant and warm against Dick's. The kiss deepened quickly, Wally's tongue sweeping into Dick's mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely *Wally*. Dick’s hands, which had been resting awkwardly at his sides, instinctively rose to tangle in Wally’s hair, pulling him closer.

When Wally finally broke the kiss, Dick was breathless, his mind reeling. The anger, the frustration, it was still there, but it was being slowly, deliciously, overshadowed by something else. Something hot and demanding.

"You're so good, baby," Wally murmured against Dick's lips, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through Dick's bones. "So good for me."

Dick's chest swelled at the words, a warm flush spreading across his skin. Praise. God, he loved it when Wally praised him. It was a weakness, he knew, but one he embraced wholeheartedly. Especially when Wally looked at him like *that*.

Wally's hands, which had been at Dick's waist, now moved lower, expertly unzipping Dick's dress pants. Dick gasped, his hips instinctively tilting forward. He was hard, so hard, a throbbing ache that demanded attention.

"Patient, baby," Wally whispered, his fingers dipping into Dick's boxers, brushing against the sensitive skin of his dick. "Let's get you out of these first."

With a swiftness that was almost imperceptible, Wally had Dick's pants and boxers down around his ankles. Dick, still leaning against the counter, felt a wave of vulnerability, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of desire as Wally's gaze swept over his exposed cock.

"So pretty," Wally breathed, his eyes wide with a hungry appreciation that made Dick’s dick twitch. "All hard and ready for me."

Dick let out a shaky moan, his head falling back against the cool tiles of the backsplash. "Wally, please."

Wally's grin was a wicked thing, full of delicious promise. "Please what, baby?" He leaned in, his voice a low growl that sent shivers of anticipation down Dick's spine. "Tell me what you want. Tell me how good you are."

Dick's breath hitched. The words, the demand, it was exactly what he needed. His frustration was now a distant memory, replaced by an overwhelming ache for release, for Wally's hands, for his praise.

"I… I want you," Dick stammered, his voice thick with desire. "I want your hands on me. I want you to make me feel good, Wally. Please."

Wally chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. "That's my good boy. Always so eager to please."

Then, with a deliberate slowness that was almost agonizing, Wally's fingers found Dick's opening. Not one, but two fingers, warm and slick, pressing against the sensitive skin. Dick cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound that was half pain, half pleasure.

Wally hummed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Dick’s perineum. "So tight, baby. So good." He pushed in, slowly, carefully, until the tips of both fingers were inside.

Dick gasped, his body arching against the counter. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious stretch that made his eyes water. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of it.

"God, Wally," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

Wally's fingers began to move, a slow, rhythmic circling that sent shivers through Dick's entire body. He could feel himself getting wetter, the friction building, the pleasure mounting.

"You're doing so good, baby," Wally praised, his voice a balm to Dick’s overstimulated senses. "So good for me. So responsive."

Dick whimpered, tears finally spilling over and tracing hot paths down his temples. He was begging, he realized, begging for more, for faster, for harder. The frustration from earlier was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, all-consuming need.

Wally, as if sensing his unspoken plea, picked up the pace. His fingers moved faster, deeper, hitting all the right spots, making Dick buck against him. Dick's legs were shaking, his knees threatening to give out. He clung to Wally, his nails digging into Wally’s shoulders, desperate for purchase.

"Faster, Wally," Dick sobbed, his voice raw with need. "Please, faster. I need it."

Wally's eyes, when Dick managed to open his own, were alight with triumph and a possessive pleasure that made Dick's heart pound. "Beg for it, baby," Wally commanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated through Dick's core. "Beg for it like the good boy you are."

Dick was beyond coherent thought. He was a creature of pure sensation, of desperate need. "Please, Wally, please," he whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "I'm begging you. Make me come."

Wally's fingers, now a blur of motion, worked him over with a relentless intensity that pushed Dick to the brink. His vision swam, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his body was wracked with shivers. He was overstimulated, overwhelmed, and utterly, deliciously, lost.

"That's it, baby," Wally murmured, his voice a rough whisper. "Let it all out. You're so beautiful when you're like this."

Dick cried out, a guttural sound that was ripped from his very soul, as a powerful orgasm seized him. His body convulsed, his hips thrusting against Wally's hand, his dick spurting hot come against his stomach. The release was monumental, a tidal wave of pleasure that left him weak-kneed and gasping for air.

He sagged against Wally, his head resting on Wally's shoulder, tears still flowing freely. He was shaking, every muscle in his body humming with the aftershocks of his climax.

Wally held him close, stroking his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. "So good. You did so well, baby."

Dick just clung to him, unable to speak, unable to do anything but revel in the warmth of Wally's embrace and the lingering echoes of his orgasm. The frustration, the anger, the boredom – all of it had been thoroughly, completely, and deliciously purged. He was empty, sated, and utterly, blissfully, content.

He eventually managed to lift his head, his eyes still a little blurry with tears. He looked at Wally, who was gazing down at him with a soft, loving expression.

"Thank you," Dick whispered, his voice still hoarse.

Wally just smiled, a gentle, tender smile that made Dick's heart ache with love. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Dick's tear-stained cheek. "Anytime, baby. Anytime you need to let off some steam." He paused, his gaze dropping to Dick’s still-hard dick, then back to Dick’s eyes. "Though next time, maybe we can skip the galas."

Dick let out a shaky laugh, a genuine, heartfelt sound. "Deal." He leaned into Wally's touch, feeling utterly cherished. Wally was truly the best boyfriend. He knew exactly how to soothe Dick's temper, how to turn his frustration into something beautiful and overwhelming. And right now, that was all Dick needed.