🤷‍♀️

Dick Grayson was, in a word, over it. Or perhaps, more accurately, under it, buried beneath a mountain of silk dresses, sparkling conversation, and the cloying scent of expensive perfume. Three galas. Three. In one day. And not even interesting galas. Just… galas. The kind where people talked about stock portfolios and philanthropic endeavors that mostly involved tax write-offs. He’d smiled until his cheeks ached, nodded until his neck was stiff, and made small talk about the weather until he felt like he was losing his mind. All because Bruce, his ever-so-thoughtful mentor, had declared himself “too busy with Wayne Enterprises commitments” to attend, despite Dick having seen him earlier that morning in the cave, meticulously polishing his cowl. The nerve.

He slammed the door to his apartment a little harder than strictly necessary, the sound echoing through the quiet space. The expensive suit jacket landed on the floor in a crumpled heap, followed by the tie, a silk monstrosity that felt like it was still constricting his throat. He kicked off his dress shoes, sending one skittering under the sofa.

“Rough day at the office, honey?” a voice drawled from the living room, laced with amusement.

Dick stalked in to find Wally West sprawled across the sofa, an empty bag of chips on his chest, a half-eaten slice of pizza hovering dangerously close to his face, and a controller clutched in his hands. He was, as usual, a picture of domestic bliss and utter chaos.

“Don’t even start, Wally,” Dick grumbled, running a hand through his hair, dislodging a few stray strands that had been gelled into submission for the evening. “Three galas. Three. Bruce could have gone to any one of them. He literally could have. But no, *I* had to play the charming Wayne heir.”

Wally’s eyes, bright green and full of mischief, widened in mock sympathy. “Oh, the horror. Forced to socialize with the rich and powerful. My heart bleeds for you, Boy Wonder.”

Dick threw a cushion at him. Wally, with his speedster reflexes, effortlessly caught it one-handed without even looking away from the game. “It’s not funny! And then, patrol. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A cat stuck in a tree, a couple of purse snatchers, and some kid who thought spray painting ‘Batman sucks’ on a wall was a good idea. I needed a good fight, Wally. I needed to blow off some steam. And I got… nothing.” He flopped onto the armchair opposite the sofa, scrubbing at his face. “I just feel… pent up. And frustrated. And I smell like old money and desperation.”

Wally finally paused his game, setting the controller down. He sat up, stretching like a large, lazy cat. “Hmm. Pent up, huh? Frustrated? Smell like desperation?” He grinned, a slow, knowing smile that always sent a shiver down Dick’s spine. “I think I know just the cure for that.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest finally piercing through his grumpy mood. “Oh? And what’s that, speed demon?”

Wally was off the sofa in a blur, kneeling in front of Dick’s armchair. He took Dick’s hands, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over Dick’s knuckles. “Well, first, let’s get rid of this fancy prison wear.” In a flash, Dick’s shirt was unbuttoned, the tie magically gone, and his pants unzipped. Dick yelped, startled, but before he could protest, Wally was already pulling him up, leading him towards the bedroom.

“Wally, what are you–”

“Shh, shh,” Wally murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s temple. “Trust me. You’re going to love this.”

The bedroom was dark, the only light coming from the city glow filtering through the window. Wally, ever the romantic, had managed to light a few scented candles – sandalwood and vanilla, Dick’s favorite. He gently pushed Dick onto the bed, then, with another burst of speed, he was back with a warm, damp washcloth.

“Let’s get that smell off you first,” Wally said, his voice softer now, more tender. He began to carefully wipe Dick’s face, then his neck, down his shoulders. The warmth of the cloth, combined with Wally’s gentle touch, was already starting to melt away some of Dick’s tension. Dick leaned into it, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“That’s… nice,” he admitted, his voice a little husky.

“Just getting started, baby,” Wally promised, his lips brushing against Dick’s ear. He discarded the washcloth and then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he began to undo Dick’s remaining clothes. Each item disappeared in a blink, leaving Dick lying there, bare and vulnerable, but also, surprisingly, a little excited.

Wally took a moment to simply look at him, his gaze warm and admiring. “You know, even when you’re grumpy, you’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dick blushed, a genuine smile finally breaking through his earlier frustration. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not,” Wally said, his voice low and serious. He leaned down, kissing Dick’s lips softly, then his jaw, then trailing down his chest. “Now, about that pent-up energy… and that need to be overstimulated…”

Dick shivered as Wally’s lips moved lower, his touch light and teasing. Wally was a master of foreplay, taking his time, building the tension with an exquisite slowness that belied his usual speed. He kissed and licked and nipped his way across Dick’s chest, down his stomach, making Dick arch his back, a soft moan escaping his lips.

“Wally…” Dick gasped, his hands tangling in Wally’s fiery red hair.

Wally chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against Dick’s skin. “Patience, my love. We’re just warming up.”

And then, the speedster truly began to work his magic.

It started with a thousand tiny kisses, each one barely there, flitting across Dick’s skin like butterfly wings. Wally’s lips were everywhere at once – his inner thigh, his hip bone, the sensitive skin behind his knee, the pulse point in his wrist. It was a dizzying, disorienting sensation, a delightful assault on Dick’s senses. He couldn’t focus on any one spot, because just as he registered a kiss on his chest, another would land on his hip, and then his earlobe. He was trembling, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Wally… stop… I can’t…” Dick tried to articulate, but the words dissolved into a choked moan.

Wally paused, his head lifting, his eyes sparkling with delight at Dick’s overwhelmed state. “Can’t what, baby?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Dick’s entire being. “Can’t take it? Or can’t get enough?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he began to trace patterns on Dick’s skin, his fingers moving with lightning speed. Not just one hand, but both, then it felt like more, a multitude of touches, light as air, yet intensely stimulating. He was everywhere at once – caressing Dick’s inner thighs, running his fingers through the hair on his chest, tracing the curve of his waist, all at the same time. Dick’s skin was hypersensitive, every nerve ending firing, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sensation.

He was begging, incoherent words tumbling from his lips. “Please… Wally… too much…”

Wally’s grin widened. “Not too much, just right. You said you needed to be overstimulated, didn’t you?” He leaned down, his breath hot against Dick’s ear. “I’m just giving you what you asked for, my beautiful, frustrated boy.”

Then came the vibrations. Wally began to move his hands, not just touching, but vibrating slightly, a low hum that resonated deep within Dick’s body. It was a completely new sensation, a delicious tremor that spread through his muscles, making them clench and release. The vibrations intensified, moving from his chest to his stomach, down to his hips, making Dick writhe on the bed, his body a taut bowstring.

“W