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"Good work, Nightwing," Oracle's voice says through the earpiece as Dick slides through the window into his home. He's exhausted, his muscles aching after a long patrol.
The suit slides down his arms, its tightness perfectly designed to fit his measurements. Dick pulls his hands free and feels the cool Blüdhaven air hit his bare skin. If the light were on, someone looking through the window would be getting quite the show of his back.
Dick slides the suit down further, all the way down his back, over the curve of his ass. He winces as it falls down his legs, the material rubbing against a rapidly-blossoming bruise.
She doesn't have to say it for him to know Oracle picked up the tiny intake of breath. He kicks off the suit and lets it lay rumpled on the floor.
It'd be easy for him to ask Are you still there? He shouldn't want to. It's not like she's going to wheel away for a cup of coffee and a protein bar. Right now, just for a night, it's the two of them and whatever Bruce is using to record all the audio they transmit.
Dick touches his face and feels the edges of the domino mask. He trails his hand down over his jawline and along his throat. He needs to shave.
Lower, now. Over his clavicle and pecs, tweaking one nipple as he passes it by. It feels better if he imagines it's someone else's hands.
Down his stomach, ghosting against his skin. Something begins to stir in his stomach as he reaches his pubes.
Lightly, Dick grasps the base of his cock. He begins to stroke it with soft and steady movements. His breaths are a little bit louder than normal.
Dick leans back against the wall. The windowsill presses into his skin. He feels like it's gotten colder, or maybe he's gotten hotter instead.
He starts to bite his lip, and then remembers not to. He imagines different hands — rougher, calloused, bigger and blunter than his own — and his breath catches in his throat.
His free hand presses flat against the wall. Bracing himself. "Oracle," he says, "tell me what to do."
Silence stretches out. Maybe she did leave. Maybe she stopped listening as soon as he got home, and he did this for no reason at all.
"Nightwing," she says. Her voice sends a jolt of relief through his body and down to his cock. "Are you touching yourself?"
He wants to laugh. They're both aware that she already knows the answer. "Yes. Of course."
"Good boy." Dick's cock twitches in his hand. "Now stroke."
Dick does what Oracle commands. His hand moves faster now, holding himself firmly. Heat pools in his stomach.
Dick moans. He's doing it for her more than anything else. She can't monitor his heart rate or body temperature without the suit. He wonders if she wishes she could watch him instead of just hearing. Maybe she's doing it through the mask, seeing through his eyes.
Dick looks down at his hand, fisted tightly around his cock. He lets out little breathy moans in time with the rhythm he's set.
"Keep going," Oracle says. Her voice sounds different from usual, the pitch a little bit higher.
Thank god she's here, Dick thinks dizzily. All he has to do is obey and give her what she wants. The pleasure is just a bonus.
It's harder for Dick to control himself now. His body feels lighter, hotter, the air around him electrified.
"I'm— I'm gonna— Please—" The words leave his mouth with desperation. The heat is ready to erupt.
Oracle's voice is calm. Controlled, despite the breathy air her words have taken on. "That's my good boy. Let me hear your voice as you come."
Dick orgasms, a flash of white filling his mind. Noises leave his mouth without his bidding. He hopes they sound good.
Semen fills his hand and drips onto the floor next to his abandoned costume. Distantly Dick thinks, I'll have to clean that up soon.
He slides down the wall instead, body folding until he's sitting awkwardly on the floor. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths of air.
"Good job," Oracle says. Dick can hear the click as she closes the line from her end. He wonders if she's touching herself now, neatly trimmed fingers rooting deep inside, glasses askew on her nose. He wonders if Bruce will check the logs and be curious about a call that lasted unusually long, or if there's too much going on in Gotham for him to worry about a conversation between Oracle and his former ward.
God. Dick is so damn tired. The fatigue had left for a bit, chased away by the pleasure, but now it's back with a vengeance.
Dick closes his eyes. He'll get up in a bit. He still needs to shower and shave and put some cream on that bruise. He just needs a break for a minute or two.