Archive of Our Own ^beta

"The first time we met, you told me I'd make a damn good pirate if I joined your crew.  Is that offer still open?"

Slade takes a slow, measured blink at the man who'd plunked himself down into the chair across from Slade's, and then questioned his hearing.  Yes, he remembers making that offer to Captain Dick Grayson many different times over the years, but that statement almost sounded like Dick is going to take him up on it. 

"What?" he says.  It's a busy market, and Slade had been engrossed in doing some last minute calculations to their budget based on updated market prices, so it's possible he'd misheard.  Unlikely, but possible.  

"That offer to join your crew.  Is that still a thing?" Dick's tone is even.

"Of course," Slade says, and then hastens to cover it up with a leer. "You know I want you." 

Dick's grin is disarming.  A little too disarming, if Slade's being honest, just like the rest of him; though Slade  would never admit to losing a fight that one time because he'd been too distracted by Dick Grayson's ass.  "Okay.  I want that."

Slade does not flush.  Nor does he stutter, because there's no way that's what it sounds like.  Sure, they've developed something of a rapport over the many times Slade's tried to kill Dick, but Dick has made his feelings pretty damn clear over the years.  "I never thought I'd live to see the day when the famous Captain Grayson finally saw the light."

Dick's laughter is soft.  "What can I say?  Your charming personality simply won me over." 

 Slade examines Dick again, but he can't find any sign of harm on him.  He's not visibly hurt, he's not haggard, and he's not obviously running from something.  So why now?  "Well,  little bird, I'm sure you will find that the pleasures I can grant you far outweigh what the Navy had to offer."

Slade extends his hand to Dick, and Dick takes it easily.  His hand is warm in Slade's, but he can feel the calluses from Dick's skill with escrima and years of work on a ship.  "I can hardly wait," Dick laughs.

By every metric, Dick  looks happy and excited.  But Slade can't stop the worry bubbling in his gut, because the last and only other time Dick had come to him for help, he'd not been in a good place.  Sure, Slade had spent the next year preening that his little bird finally trusted (and liked) him enough to come to him for help, but it had been obvious that once Dick felt better he wanted to go back to the Navy.

Of course, the Deathstroke had happened to run into the Tarantula a month later, and Slade's entire crew had been vicious in exacting revenge on its captain, but that still doesn't explain how they'd gotten from tentative trust and banter to— this.  

Slade lifts Dick's hand to his lips, and kisses it gently.  "Do you have all your belongings with you?"

Dick looks down at the floor. "Yeah." He grabs a large duffel bag from the ground.  "Turns out it's really easy to pack light after living on a ship for years."

Slade snorts.  Sure's he's got a number of trophies squirrelled away, but there's only so much stuff that can fit on a ship and Dick's bag is larger than Slade's is.  "Well, all the more chances for you to be spoiled then."  If Dick won't— or can't— trust Slade with the real reason he's asking for sanctuary, then Slade will just have to trust him, and give him the help he needs.

Dick flushes.  "I'm hoping for it."

Slade can't quite meet his eyes either, so he gestures to the papers in front of him.  "We were planning on spending the night in port restocking, and we’ll head out tomorrow afternoon.  Do you have anything you need to do before then?"

Dick shakes his head.  "I already said my goodbyes," he snickers.  "Bruce wasn't pleased that I was running off to join a pirate ship, but it's been a long time coming and he apparently ranks that above the Blüdhaven Navy." 

Slade offers him his own deadly grin.  He's more than happy to play at this game; there's nothing he enjoys more than bantering with Dick.  "Oh dear, daddy dearest wasn't too happy to hear that his precious son had finally fallen to the dark side?"

Dick full-on cackles.  "Daddy dearest is a hypocrite, but no, he just wants to see me happy.  Jason was the upset one; he insists that if I wanted to go all villainous I should've joined his mob-gang thing, but the seas are too ingrained in my blood."

This provides Slade no clarity at all, except for the fact that this might be a rebellion thing.  Maybe Dick had finally done something else illegal and now felt he needed to go all out?  It's not the way Slade wants to recruit the Captain of the Nightwing , but at least it works.

"Ah, but I get to keep you instead," Slade says.  "And that is much superior."

"Oh, definitely." Dick's voice is honeyed.  "Now, is the great Scourge of the Seas going to show me to my new residence?"

Slade gestures at the documents in front of him.  "After my men return, we can all head to the ship.  I'm sure Wintergreen will be thrilled to see you."

The thing is, this feels real.  It feels like Slade's half a decade of teasing comments have paid off and Dick truly wants to be here.  It feels so real it makes Slade's heart ache, because there's not much he wouldn't give to get Dick Grayson into his life (and bed).  He'd just been resigning himself to the fact that it was probably never going to happen a long time ago.

Dick Grayson couldn't possibly want him.  Trust him? Sure.  Banter mercilessly with him while preventing the Deathstroke from terrorizing any ship in Blüdhaven's waters?  That was their bread and butter.  But want him?  The pirate captain for Gotham's golden boy? Unlikely.  Slade remembered how his first five proposals had gone, and he'd accepted that reality years ago.

No, this isn't the miracle Slade had dreamed of, but it is something from Dick, and Slade trusts him enough to  follow his lead.  Well, that and find out whoever had forced Dick to run into Slade's arms and hunt them down.

Accidental lawbreaking or something horrible, Slade doesn't know.  But Dick will be safe with him no matter what.

"Captain Grayson, always a pleasure to see you."  Wintergreen drops a bag full of money in front of Slade.  "The prices for the spices we stole last week were high today." Oh, wonderful.  It appears that Slade has one more mouth to feed now, after all.

"Wintergreen!" Dick rises to his feet.  "It's been a while."

"It has." Wintergreen nods towards Slade.  "What brings you to bother our fine Captain here today?" He manages to keep a straight face, as if Slade hasn't heard all the shit his crew has to say about his 'brooding' crush on Captain Grayson.  

"Oh, I'm hardly here to bother him," Dick flutters his eyelashes.  Both Slade and Wintergreen give him an unimpressed glare.  All Dick does is irritate the Deathstroke and shatter their plans.  "I'm joining the crew!"

Wintergreen gives him a look.  Finally, someone with enough authority to coerce Dick into giving Slade an actual answer.  "Well, it's about time, kid.  When's the wedding?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dick's tone is breezy.  "Somewhere dreamy I hope." He turns those wide eyes onto Slade, and he’s well aware of the fact that he will soon be promising Dick a trip somewhere extravagant.  Dick winks at Slade.  "Then again, I suppose I already have everything I want."

It's mostly a habit that keeps Slade's mouth running.  "Oh, little bird, if you think that's all I have to offer, prepared to have your mind shattered."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it," Dick shoots back.  Slade keeps very careful control over his body. There's no way the implications of that statement are true.  Slade's still not sure what the game is, but he's determined to make sure Dick gets whatever he needs.  He really can't see another interpretation, but there has to be one.

Wintergreen whips his head between them.  "Are you headed back to the ship?" There's a note of something pleading to his voice.  Slade cocks an eyebrow.  

"We were planning on waiting for the rest of the crew," Slade responds, but he moves the satchel of money Wintergreen had dropped and begins picking up the pages to his ledger.  He recognizes a suggestion when he sees one, and, besides, the papers are boring when Dick Grayson is seated right across from him.  

"I will wait for them." Wintergreen shoots Slade and Dick another look, and Slade suddenly wonders if his First Mate has actually cottoned onto the fact that this is a farce, or not.  He has to have; he'd been the one to lay down Slade's realistic chances of success back when this all started. Right?  "You should go show Grayson to his bed."

And get them some privacy, where Slade can interrogate Dick for details.  Slade had made Wintergreen his second in command for a reason.  

"Well," Slade smirks at Dick, "I can think of nothing more enjoyable than showing you to your new quarters."

Wintergreen reaches up a hand to rub at his forehead, and Slade glances at him worryingly for a second before turning back to Dick and offering him his hand.  

"I'm more than down for that," Dick grins. 

He takes Slade's hand, and Slade pulls both of them to their feet.  He slings his satchel over his shoulder, and reaches for Dick's duffel with the same hand. 

"I can get my bag," Dick protests, but Slade's both faster and stronger, so, really, there's not that much of a protest.  

"It's my job to take care of you as Captain," Slade explains patiently to Dick.  He steps towards Wintergreen with a nod, and Dick uses their joined hands to pull himself neatly into Slade's side.  That's… new.  Slade lets Dick stand close.  If whatever's bothering Dick means he's going to be more clingy than usual, that's totally fine.

Dick hums.  "What if I wanted to take care of you, in thanks for being my Captain?"

"I know a few ways," Slade responds and winks.  Sure, Dick's not here to be involved with him, but a little flirting can't hurt.  Maybe someday Slade's jokes will win over the Golden Boy's heart.  Besides, Slade would very much like to see Dick climb the masts; none of his crew enjoy being that high up.

Wintergreen coughs before Dick can come up with a response.  "Will I see you two for dinner?"

"Yes?" Slade says.  Is that not assumed?  He'd have to introduce Dick as actually part of the crew, after all.  He can't wait for the looks Dr. Villain and Aksel, his third in command, are going to send him.

Wintergreen squints at him.  "See you then, Captain." His voice is doubtful.  Slade's not sure why, so he ignores it.  Dick snickers a little bit.  

"Shall we?" Slade offers to Dick, and tugs his hand forward.  The docks aren't too far— Slade had chosen his seat to keep both an eye on the market and on the ship.

"Yeah!" Dick's enthusiasm is infectious.  At least it seems like he wants to be here, and some event outside of his control hasn't forced his presence.  Perhaps their last voyage together had been better than Slade thought.  

They get a number of double takes as they wander towards the docks.  Slade's eyepatch is rather notorious in most parts of the country, and news that the Deathstroke had docked would have spread fast.  And while Dick Grayson-Wayne isn't quite as famous in Blüdhaven as he is in Gotham, he had still served in the Navy for many years.   They'd be quite the gossip walking together.  

"So," Dick nudges him.  His grin's still wide, seemingly oblivious to the stares, although Slade suspects Dick's just used to them.  "Where are we headed first?"

Slade stares at him.  "No business in public.  I thought you already knew that rule, little bird."

Dick pouts. "Ugh.  You're so boring."

"You chose to join me," Slade points out.  

"Well," Dick jabs a finger into his side.  Slade glares at him.  They're in public , and it's bad enough for both of their reputations that they're walking together like this.  Then again, if Dick plans to publicly join the Deathstroke , that's already big news.  "I was hoping you wouldn't be such an old man."

"I'm not old!" Sure, Slade has a little bit of silver hair, but he's not ancient.  Besides, he's functionally immortal anyway, so age is just a number.

Dick gives him a doubtful look.  "I'll need you to prove that to me," he says primly.

Slade snorts.  "In what way?" He challenges.  "I already beat you whenever you try to challenge me in a spar."

"Most of the time," Dick protests immediately.  He does beat Slade now more than Slade would like. "And, besides, it's your stamina I care about."

Oh, is that a threat to challenge Slade multiple times in a day?  Sounds like something Dick would try.  "I'm sure you'll still end up kneeling at my feet.  It's not going to help you beat me."

Dick leans closer to Slade, draping his body over Slade's shoulder while somehow still walking on the uneven planks of the docks.  "We'll see who ends up on their knees," he promises.  His breath gusts over Slade's ear.  Slade does not shiver.  Absolutely not. "Old man."

"Are you sure a young'un like you can keep up?" Slade challenges.  "Last time we fought, your technique was a little lacking."

Dick returns to walking next to Slade, and he's never been more grateful to see the Deathstroke 's orange and black flag in front of them.  Slade only has to survive another length of the docks.  "You didn't give me a chance to demonstrate it last time though," Dick's grin is dangerous and fucking beautiful.  "I'm sure I can satisfy you."

This has to be an act, even with how blatant those undertones are.  Slade doesn't remember them almost having sex the last time they'd fought.  Right? Sure, Dick had been on top of him, but he'd also had an escrima to Slade's neck, and that fight had allowed the merchant ship to escape easily. "We'll just have to see." Slade challenges.

Dick hums, and then skips forward to the plank of the ship.  "Mai! Caspian!"

The two guards wave to him, and watch Slade follow behind him at a slightly slower pace. 

"Dick!" Mai waves, and then winces in Slade's direction as if Slade hadn't been aware that half the ship preferred the enemy over him.  "Captain."

"Mai," Slade nods.  "Have there been any problems?"

"No, sir," Mai answers, and then grins cheekily.  "None except Captain Grayson, of course."

"Hey!" Dick protests.

"Grayson will no longer be a problem." Slade squints at Dick.  "Probably.  He has agreed to join the crew."

Mai swings towards Dick.  "Oh my god! Congrats!"

Caspian tilts his head towards Dick.  "I wasn't sure we'd see the day.  Congratations."

Dick beams.  "Thanks." He hops up the gangplank.  "You coming old man?"

Slade ignores Mai's muffled chuckles, tries to appreciate that the news will be spread around well before dinnertime, and follows Dick up the ramp. Dick waves from the top, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  

Slade allows a smile to slip onto his face as he approaches.  "Excited, are we?"

"Yes," Dick says.  He bounces harder.  "I've waited like, forever for this."

Slade startles.  "You… have?"

Dick pokes him in the side again. "Yes," he says with the sort of emphasis that says Slade is stupid.  "You've been teasing me for years."

"I have," Slade says, even though he's still confused.  He feels like he's losing track of the conversation by minute.  Why the hell is Dick here? 

"Good," Dick bounces across the deck towards the Captain's quarters. "So, are you going to show me to my new bed?" Dick bats his eyelashes at Slade, and he once again feels like the comment has a distinct sexual tone to it.

"I see you're staying with me again." Slade smirks.  Dick had stayed in his quarters for most of his original voyage because he hadn't felt safe in the crew quarters even though they'd both slept on separate beds.  Slade makes no assumptions when he still can't figure out why Dick has come to him, and it's certainly not like he's opposed to sharing a room with him.

Dick full-on pauses in the middle of the deck, turning to stare at him. "Uh, yeah?  There was another option?" He puts a hand on his chest, and gasps. "Why, would you have let your new wife stay with the crew?  What kind of husband did I agree to marry?"

What.  "Of course not," Slade says immediately, because that's clearly the correct answer.  He even begins moving towards his rooms to prove his point.  "But who would I have been to not give you the option?"

Dick squints at him.  "You— the option?"

Slade has to be missing something here.  There seems to be no other option for how they seem to be on two fundamentally different wavelengths here.  "Yes?" He's never made his way to the door to the Captain's quarters faster and holds open the door.

Dick takes a moment to huff at him, and then stalks towards the room.  He snatches his duffel bag from Slade's hand.

At least he entered the room?  Slade's clearly done something right here.

Slade's cabin only has one bed at the moment; Slade'll have to borrow a cot from the crew's quarters again for Dick.  Dick walks right over to said bed and drops down at it.  He stares menacingly at Slade.

Slade gulps and takes a seat in the chair to his desk.  Dick glares harder.

"And, why," Dick asks icily, and Slade just takes a moment to appreciate that his crew can't watch the ensuing blowout while they're in this cabin.  "Would I not want to sleep with you?"

Slade forces himself to meet Dick's eyes.  He'd learned early on that Dick had a tendency to assume the worst if Slade isn't clear; besides, better to clear this up now.  "I don't want to make any choices without your consent, Dick.  Besides, I'm still not sure why you've decided to join us again.  Did something happen?"

Dick just blinks.  And blinks.  And then he falls backwards into the bed with a huge sigh.  "You.  Are a fucking idiot."

Slade has no idea what the correct response to that is.  "And for what this time?"

"Slade. We're getting married."

They're what?  Slade wants that desperately, but last he checked, that isn't an attainable goal.

Dick sits up on his elbows to peer at Slade, and groans.  "Slade.  I like you.  Come here and kiss me."

Slade does.  He almost shoves his chair to the floor in his haste to join Dick on his bed.  Wait, had Dick been for real this whole time? He wants to join the Deathstroke because he wants Slade?  That hadn't been their usual banter or a cover?

Dick wants Slade?

Irrelevant, because when Slade sits down on the bed, Dick leans far enough up so that he's pressed against Slade's chest.  Slade cups a hand under Dick's jaw.  His skin is soft, and Slade could press kisses down Dick's neck forever, but instead he leans closer and kisses Dick's lips.

Dick's lips are smoother than they have any right to be, but his mouth is warm and Slade drowns in the sea of sparks that rushes through him.  The hand not resting on Dick's collarbone curls around his midsection.  Dick's shirt rides up as Slade pulls him closer, and one of Dick's hands lands on Slade's chest and pushes.

Slade lets himself fall backward, dragging Dick with him.  He refuses to break the kiss, shifting the angle of his head so that Dick's kissing him harder, and uses his hand to help Dick squirm so that Dick's in-between his knees and resting on his chest.

Dick breaks the kiss, pulling back to gasp for air.  "You— you really didn't realize I was flirting with you."

Slade flushes.  "I knew you were flirting with me, I just didn't think I had much hope of drawing you into my bed."

Dick blinks at him again, and props himself up on one arm to roll his hips against Slade.  Slade hisses between his teeth at the friction, and Dick smirks.  "Sure seems like I want to be in your bed right now."

"Yeah, I got that." Slade drags Dick back down for another kiss, thrusting upwards at the same time.  Dick's laugh turns into a gasp, and Slade smirks against Dick's lips. 

When they separate for air, Slade places a hand on Dick's side.  "You're still going to be the one on your knees." He starts to flip Dick, but Dick grabs ahold of the bed covers, wedging himself into the wall.

"You wish."  Dick shoves him back into the bed, grabbing Slade's hands with his own.  Slade kicks back at him, but Dick's smile sends shivers down his spine and Slade gets a little side-tracked. Dick takes advantage of his momentary distraction to straddle him, pinning his wrists to the bed.  He leans down to kiss Slade again, and Slade melts into it.

This isn't quite what Slade had had in mind when he'd imagined his little bird under him, but it far exceeds expectations, and Slade can't ignore the way he's still frantically rolling his hips against Dick.  

Fuck, he'd thought about having Dick for longer than he perhaps outght've, and Dick's weight pushes into him, setting every nerve on fire.  Dick grinds down against him, seemingly indulgent, and Slade can't help the way he arches back.  His little bird's always a clever one, and he's got Slade held in a position where Slade can't flip them back over without completely overpowering him. Unfair.

Dick's lips taste like salt spray and coconut balm. Slade drags a pair of his and Dick's hands to cup Dick's face, pulling him into a deeper kiss, tongue against tongue.  Dick moans into Slade's lips, and Slade only kisses him harder.

"I— told you— I'd show you my technique," Dick gasps.  Slade still has enough left in him to be disappointed when Dick pulls back, but Dick merely sits on top of him, rocking his hips back and forth in small circles.  "Where's your oil?"

Slade blindly fumbles for the drawer next to his bed, and Dick has the audacity to laugh at him until he tosses a small canteen of oil to Dick.  Slade leans upwards to pull Dick into another kiss.  He nips at Dick's lower lip, drawing a groan out of him.  

"Fuck, Slade," Dick whines again as Slade squeezes at his waist, dragging both of their cocks together.  "I need you inside of me, please."  His fingers grab at Slade's shirt, and Slade leans up enough for it to slide off easily and get tossed to the floor.  

Dick hums, pulling back to admire Slade's chest.  He runs his fingers over Slade's collarblades and dips them lower, pinching at Slade's nipples.  Slade gasps and bats his hand away.  "You said you were going to show me your technique," he protests.

"I am," Dick murmurs.  "Too impatient, old man?" Slade grits his teeth.  Dick's grin is as savage as it is hot as he leans down to kiss Slade's neck.  Slade's going to have to retaliate later, but he can only melt into Dick's touch as he bites and sucks marks down Slade's stomach.  He noses at Slade-'s v-line and over his pants, and Slade tries hard not to come just from that friction alone.  He will not fall to Dick's comments about stamina.  

Instead, he grabs at Dick's shirt, pulling him far enough back so that his shirt can also go flying to the floor. Their pants require a little bit of rolling, which Slade attempts and fails to use to get Dick under him, and then Dick's rolling against him, and Slade's digging his fingers into Dick and pulling him closer.

Slade takes his own chance to nip at Dick's neck.  He aims as high as he can, fully intending to mark his territory, and Dick's moans are music to his ears.  Dick loses patience faster than Slade did and leans down to kiss him again, and Slade rolls upwards into him, hands grabbing and pulling closer.

A bottle cracks open somewhere nearby, and one of Dick's hands disappears.  Slade reaches for Dick's ass almost instinctively.  Dick groans as he squeezes his ass cheeks and drags them open.   "Fuck," Dick gasps.  His hands brush over Slade's as he fingers himself.  "You—" Dick lets out a laugh.  "Been picturing this forever.  Apparently the only reason it didn't happen sooner is 'cause you're a coward."

Slade scoffs, but it breaks into a groan when Dick lowers himself just enough to rock up against Slade's erection.  "Should've told me you wanted it," he gasps.  "Been asking you out for forever."

Dick rolls his eyes, but he reaches for one of Slade's hands.  Oil streaks over Slade's fingers as Dick rubs their hands together and drags his hand to his hole.  "Shut up and finger me."

Slade does, dragging his index finger down.  Dick just smirks above him, so Slade curls his finger and Dick's breath hitches.  

"Don't hear any complaints now." Slade can't quite help but taunt.  He slips a second finger in to prevent Dick's response.  Dick glares at him even as he throws his head back in a moan.

"Faster, daddy," Dick gasps.  Mischief glimmers in his eyes, but Slade can't help the momentary horror that rolls through him.  While Slade would very much like a title, he has kids.

Slade outright stops and gives Dick the most deadpan look he can muster.  "Absolutely not," he says.  "Try the magic word instead."

"Please?" Dick whines.  He runs one of his oil-slicked fingers down Slade's chest, leaving a messy trail.  

Slade moves his fingers once, just to taunt Dick, and stills them again.  "Wrong.  What's my title?"

Dick's glare is murderous.  Then again, Slade's always been good at defying death.  He's sure he'll regret this later, but right now, Slade holds all the power.  He doesn't move, and Dick's expression cracks.  "Faster, sir," he grits out, but there's a pleading edge.

Slade scissors his fingers and slips in a third. He can't say no to his little bird's begging, not when Dick's just— so happy.  His eyes are sparkling with mischief and anger, and he's positively glowing, draped across Slade's body.  It's a dream come true, in every conceivable sense, so if Slade speeds his fingers up just to see Dick's grin, no one else has to know.  "That's the word."

Dick growls lowly at him.  "Don't think you're in charge here."

"I'm the Captain of this ship," Slade manages to respond.  He adds a fourth finger.  It shuts Dick up again for a solid ten seconds.

"Not in the bedroom, you're not," Dick grits out. His fingers run up Slade's wrist.  Instead of adding another finger, Dick grabs Slade's wrist and yanks, and Dick's pining both of Slade's hands to the bed.  

A whine escapes Slade before he can stop himself, and Dick's returning smirk is simply vicious and stunning.  Slade could probably break the hold, but he doesn't really feel the need to when it gets him this.  

"There, there," Dick croons.  He drags Slade's hands up the bed and switches to holding them over Slade's head with one hand instead of two.  The other leaves a trail down Slade's chest.  Slade's breath hitches as Dick flicks at one of his nipples, and then drops lower, lower, and strokes over his cock.

Slade can't stop the noise this time, but Dick's victorious smile is addicting.  "See?" Dick murmurs.  "I can be kind while I'm in charge."

Slade's answering chuckle is a weak thing.  "Really? Thought you said you— wanted me to be in you."

The hand stops stroking him, and Slade mourns its loss for all of three seconds until Dick grabs Slade’s cock and angles himself onto it. The tip brushes up against Dick's hole.  There's a second of pause, and then Dick's pushing Slade deeper into him, and Slade lets out a deep groan that matches Dick's answering whine.

"I'm merciful," Dick mutters, and then lets out a breathless giggle.  He draws himself slowly up, and Slade allows himself to admire the power in Dick's legs and abs.  Fuck, they look as good as when Dick's throwing kicks at Slade.

Dick sets a fast pace, and Slade feels heat gather in his belly embarrassingly quickly.  Dick's breath comes out in huffs as he drags himself up and down.  Slade's hands are still pinned, albeit weakly, above his head, but he can't stop himself from trying to thrust up anyways.  

"Fuck," Dick gasps.  "You feel so good." He varies his pace slightly, dropping down onto Slade hard, and Slade's vision gets a little bit spotty.

"Gods," Slade's voice is uneven.  "Little bird, I'm going to—"

Dick's laugh is breathless, and he thrusts down harder.  "So soon?" he taunts, but his voice also wobbles.  "I don't think you get to— not until I say so—"

"Yeah?" Slade finally breaks Dick's hold on his hands to reach out and drag Dick into a messy kiss.  Slade bites at Dick's lip, and he moans.  It's a great distraction from the stars dancing through Slade's vision but it doesn't do anything to stop the growing euphoria, not when his Little Bird's sounds are so pretty.  "How could I not, when you've demonstrated your skills so— thoroughly?"

Dick whines.  "Yeah, yeah, I just—"  He moans loudly as Slade times his own thrust to match Dick's rhythm.  "Okay, okay, I'm going to cum—"

Slade braces his feet and thrust up once more, strongly, and then he's cuming.  He throws his head back into the pillow with a loud groan, and Dick's own sound answers a second later as he cums over both of their stomachs.

Slade presses his mouth to Dick's one more time before he pulls Dick into the bed next to him, holding his Little Bird close, because his Little Bird is finally his.

Dick's fingers run over Slade's slick chest. "So," Dick says with a giggle, "Now that you've been assured I want you, are we getting married?"

"Yes," Slade says.  The actual question computes a second later, and Slade can't help his grin.  "You're very bold to think you could ever escape me now.  Not even a whole fleet could pry you away from me."

Dick leans forward, placing a hand on the other side of Slade and draping his body over Slade's chest.  "I don't know, old man," he teases. "You almost let me slip through your fingers."

Slade runs a hand through Dick's hair and grabs it, yanking just enough to make his point.  "As I said earlier, asking for consent is important."

Dick just blinks at him in the same confused manner he'd been doing earlier.  "We've been flirting for, like, three years, Slade.  You proposed to me the second time we met.  And then tried to kill me, I might add."

Slade snorts; he had done that.  Good for him.  "And you made your opinion very clear then, little bird.  I knew we were on better terms, but the last time you were on my ship—"

"Oh," Dick's voice is small, and Slade instantly regrets bringing that up at all.  "I guess that's fair.  I hadn't let you know I've been wanting to be a pirate for forever so you immediately assumed it was like last time."

"Yeah," Slade huffs.  "Now I see that I should have taken you saying that you'd put me on my knees as a perfectly good sign."

Dick raises himself up on an elbow, and manages to give himself the appearance of staring down Slade. "Hmmm.  That would make a good apology."

A familiar smile slips over Slade's face.  "Make me, little bird.  I know you have the skills."

They're late for dinner.