Sea and Sky III:

Something Rich and Strange

by 'rith

Archive: Ask first, please.
Warnings: PWP. Explicit m/m slash. If this concept disturbs you, read no further.
Fandom/Summary: Modern comicsverse. Nightwing and Tempest explore their new relationship with some plot-unencumbered sex. An unofficial sequel to Dannell Litesí "A Sea Change" (at http://www.offpanel.net/kerithwyn/stories/Sea1.html) and a follow-up tangent from the second in my "Worldís Finest" series, "But What Does It *Mean?*" (at http://www.offpanel.net/kerithwyn/stories/WF2.html).
Disclaimer: All characters property of DC Comics. What I have done with them is mine. But they seem much happier, donít you think? ;-)

Full fathom five thy father lies
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,--ding-dong, bell.

--William Shakespeare, *The Tempest,* Act 1, Scene 2


Then Tim left, and we were alone again.

"He seemed troubled...." Garthís voice, low and sexy. God, I could listen to him talk all day. He wasnít much for that, though.

"Heíll be all right. Heís a great kid."

"That is the new Robin, yes?"

"Mm-hmmm. Thanks for not letting him know you realized that. Heís still in the Ďprotect the ID at all costsí mode."

"Naturally. With Bruce as a mentor, how could he not?"

I smiled. "I think Bruce would *like* to forget that all the founding Titans know his identity from way back when."

Garth came over and lifted my chin. "And you? How are *you* feeling?"

One look into those intense purple eyes and I was feeling something, no question. "Good. Real good."

He bought me in for a kiss, and I was immediately hard. Never mind that weíd been up half the night, learning each otherís bodies. Thank God it was Saturday; Iíd have lost my job, because there was no way I was leaving this apartment anytime soon. BlŁdhaven could care for itself, for a night and a day.

Bruce never allowed himself to think like that. Well, that was *his* problem. I was tired of telling him that.

Garthís hands--his gorgeous, magical hands--wove their spell through my hair, down my back, came to rest on my rear. Mine were busy wrestling with his clothes. Our mouths were welded together, tongues entwined. He tasted of the sea, which seemed obvious, but with a tang that was all his own.

"Mmmm..." he pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against mine. "Do you know how much Iíve wanted you? So very long, and now you are..."

"Iím here, Garth."

He swept me up, muscles strengthened by the pressures of the ocean floor easily carrying my weight. "Yes. And I have no intention of letting you go, anytime soon."

"Thatís fine with me!" I was so tired of being alone...and so was Garth. I had filled my life with a variety of lovers, each one part of the search for something elusive. As far as I knew, Garth hadnít really loved anyone since Tula...not that I expected to take her place in his heart, or anything like that. But companionship, that we could offer each other.

And lust. God, heís beautiful. Itís mostly in those eyes, and his hands. And his chest, strong and deep. And...well, you get the idea.

So back to bed we went, and soon I was moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors. He has an incredible mouth, and he wasnít shy about using it. On my nipples Ďtil they ached, and sweeping down to my navel, and finally descending to my weeping cock with a touch so delicate I thought I would scream. Then his lips were around me, sucking pressure and teasing tongue bringing me right to the brink.

And then he stopped. I groaned. "Please...."

He moved up to lean over me. "I want you."

I reached down to stroke him, as hard and eager as I was. "I can tell!"

"In me, Robbie. Please."

I almost came just hearing him say that. "If you want to..."

He kissed me again, hard. "I want!"

Itíd been a while...since Joey, in fact. I didnít know how much experience Garth had, and I wasnít about to ask, because he seemed so sure.

He rolled over on his back, pulling me over on top of him. "Here, so I can see your face."

I reached over into the headboard for the lube. The condoms I left where they were; I was clean, and so was Garth. All the Titans were--even Roy, by some miracle--and I knew it because regular check-ups were part of the team mandate. Families take care of each other like that. Iíd never feel comfortable in the JLA; they handle their world-shattering crises and go home, and never *talk.*

But then again, sometimes I think too much.

Most of last night Iíd let Garth take charge. It just seemed right, somehow. But now, with him stretched out under me, it felt like *my* turn to play. I reached for his wrists and he let me push them up above his head. I wanted to touch him with no distraction, and his smile let me know he was all for that, too.

Slowly, then. His body was a gift offered to me, and I tried to make the most of it. Everywhere I touched he responded with a shudder or a gasp or with a deep moan when I found the right spot. I traced a path over his skin and Garth writhed under me, his voice urging me on.

The curve of his neck yielded to me as if I were a vampire and he an all-too-willing victim. The span of his chest measured with tongue and teeth, gentle or sharp as the mood struck. His stomach clenched as I traced the muscles there with my fingertips, and he wasnít ticklish at all but shuddering with desire. By the time I moved down between his legs he was visibly trembling.

He cried out as I bent to taste him, sea and salt and the elemental flavor of *Garth,* my friend and teammate and lover. Much more of *that* and itíd all be over; he was so responsive and the scent and feel of him was so arousing that I wasnít going to last much longer, either.

Iíd left the lube close at hand--"always be prepared," Batman taught me better than any scout leader--so a quick flip of the cap and we were ready to go. With my mouth still on him I slid a finger into him, and he arched up and his whole body stiffened and I thought he was gonna come right then. After a second he fell back to the mattress and groaned, a deep needful sound.

"Hurry...." His voice was strained, a low sensual growl. I knew exactly how he felt, but I wanted to make sure he was ready. A second finger and then I found just the right spot....

"Ah...*yes...*" With a sudden motion he grabbed me, hauling my body over his and up to assault my mouth with his own. He pulled back, shaking. "Enough. *Fuck* me, Robbie."

Garth is never crude. Hearing that from his mouth sent a bolt like electricity through my groin.

Another moment and without any awkwardness at all I was inside him, so warm and deep. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, and he was whispering something in the elegant, liquid Atlantean that is his native language. I touched his face. "Garth?"

His eyes opened and I fell into them again, that strange and beautiful violet hue. "Ohhhh...you make me forget my English. This is a prayer of thanksgiving, for pleasure and friendship...."

So he whispered to me as I moved on him, with him, his words flowing around us and his eyes on mine. We fell into a perfect rhythm, and before long the feeling swept up like a tide, as inexorable as the sea. He tightened around me and came with my name on his lips, and then my own pleasure hit with the force of a tidal wave, dragging my consciousness down into a deep and soothing darkness.

Garth said later that I sprawled over him, senseless, for a couple of long minutes. I donít remember. But I know exactly how I feel, recalling this: that I was content, and comfortable, and *loved.*

And sometimes, thatís a greater blessing than I can count.



Note: The sequel--if I ever get around to it, or unless Dannell feels like writing it first--will be an *underwater* PWP called "Full Fathom Five." Gonna mine that (rather gruesome, but oh well) Shakespeare quote for all itís worth!