A/N: All characters are over 18.
I made it! Misfit thought excitedly.
She'd pretty much given up on her ugly duckling phase being over. Not that she didn't think she was cute, but compared to Dinah, Helena, even Ms. Gordon who sat in a wheelchair all day? She was just a petite little ginger with way too many freckles, a souvenir T-shirt, and a cape she'd worked really hard on. The mask was from a Halloween store. She didn't tell people it went with a Robin costume.
Tiny redhead in an effort-minimal costume she may have been, but she'd been going mad bomb on her teleportation skillz. As it turned out, she couldn't hurt herself bouncing places she couldn't see—if she teleported into something solid, she'd just rebound to the nearest open space. And if that was too tight to get out of, she could just bounce again.
So she tried bouncing underground. Made sense, right? The Batcave was underground—duh—and if she found the Batcave, then not only would she be in good with the Birds of Prey, but she'd impress Batman (and let's face it, Batman totally outranked the Birds of Prey).
And now, here she was! It was just like Ms. Gordon said it was! She'd thought Oracle was kidding about the giant playing card and the giant penny and the giant dinosaur—nope! Batman was a hoarder!
"Cool!" Misfit said, skipping around. She wondered if there was any food stashed around here. I oughta help myself, just in case Bats is as big a sourpuss as Babs. No reason to miss out on a free snack if he doesn't officially make me the new Batgirl.
She looked around the place. Could definitely use some track lightning. Yeah, it was gothic and everything, but what did Robin do, wave his iPhone around every time he wanted to fight evil? She wandered around a bit before giving into the irresistible urge to cry "Echo!"
"Who's there?" someone replied, leading to thoughts inspired by various J-horror movies before Misfit realized someone was probably just in the cave with her.
"Misfit!" she replied. "Batgirl," she corrected. "Misfit," she further corrected.
"...a little help here?"
***
Dick gulped as Misfit came to help him. She looked about eighteen, and as lovely as a girl of that age could be. A smooth, unblemished complexion, a slight but charming awkwardness, and a way of giggling and flirting at just the wrong time. He recalled her having a little obsession with him whenever he had to work with the Birds of Prey, something that had always compounded Barbara's problem with her unprofessionalism.
He also recalled she cooed over bad music, favored extremely tight leggings under extremely tight jean shorts, and she had no idea of what her long legs and fluttery eyes meant to anyone else.
"Nightwing?" she said. "Are you okay?"
"I may be having a bit of an issue," Dick said, testing his bonds again. He would've loved to break out of them himself, not let Misfit get too close. Because the closer she got, the more aware of her he was, the more he thought of her. It was like being fifteen years old and going from Barbara's chaste crushing to Kory in his life all at once.
As Misfit came over to him, she bent over to fix her shoes in such a way as to press her young breasts against her Bat-blazoned T-shirt. A more experienced woman would have known how to bend over without giving anything away, but Misfit didn't think like that. Not yet, at any rate.
"Need any help?" she asked. Evidently she was waiting for him to break free as well.
"Yeah," Dick said, stiffening. "Cut me loose. That's all."
"Okay, think I got a switchblade around here... a-ha!" Misfit pulled it from her utility belt, which Dick assumed had been bought from a street vendor. "Took this off a pimp. Not my pimp or anything. I don't have a pimp. Why would I have a pimp?"
"Just get me out of here," Dick said. It was worse with Misfit here, the sight of her, the smell of her. It'd been pretty bad when he'd just had to imagine Kory, Barbara, Helena, because he could imagine an awful lot—he hadn't even had Zinda yet. But Misfit's nearness and tangibility, even though in his humble guy-opinion she couldn't hold a candle to Kory's literal supermodel, redirected all his lusts straight onto her.
When Misfit started cutting, she would saw away the vines covering his crotch first. With them gone, his erection burst loose, instantly tenting the front of his pants. Dick couldn't even help but gasp at the relief of his hard-on almost entirely uncramping, the sweet succor of being unencumbered almost driving him to orgasm.
***
It had to be as big as a summer sausage. Maybe even bigger!
The girls at school talked a lot about men's cocks, how they got stiff while they were making out, how boys jerked them off, some of the sluttier girls (which was all of them, the bitches) talking about how much their guys shot. And the Birds of Prey tried to keep their mouths shut in her presence, but more than once she'd overheard Helena talking about it. Even about Dick's.
"Wow," she said softly.
"You know what that is, don't you?" Dick was just barely able to control himself, to keep his voice even.
Her eyes still on his crotch, Misfit nodded.
It was definitely bigger than her fingers. Misfit was thinking about all the pleasure her fingers had brought her. Her blue eyes brightened with interest as she wondered what Dick's dick would do. It had to be as big as one of Helena's dildos. And Helena loved her dildos.
"It's alright, Misfit, say it," Dick encouraged her.
"It's your cock." Misfit leaned forward. "And it's hard. Ms. Gordon said the only time a cock gets hard is when, well, you know..."
Dick mentally crossed his fingers. Maybe, just maybe...
"It's so hard," Misfit repeated, her voice awestruck.
"That's because being around you got it hard,"
***
The open, obvious, unabashed interest in Misfit's eyes did it. And it was even worse coming from behind a mask, like Batgirl had worn in a thousand adolescent fantasies. Post-adolescent, if he was really bored. Dick couldn't help himself. He unzipped his pants as soon as he was free, relieving the last little maddening discomfort of having his swelling cock grating against the teeth of his zipper.
Which opened up his awareness to just how damn fucking horny he was. Now that it was all out there, so to speak, all he had to suffer from was the awfulness of not being inside a woman. He'd never been so horny in all his life. It was like Catwoman, Batgirl, Talia al Ghul, Magpie, every woman he'd ever lusted after as a boy had been gyrating before him, teasing him and taunting him with innuendo after innuendo, brushing skin-to-skin contact, sly looks and whispered come-ons, but ever denying him the simple relief of a touch to his quaking, impossible erection.
So Dick did it himself.
Misfit was staring at it, shock replacing lust on her face, her mouth wide open—and that really wasn't helping—as she struggled to understand how her fantasy had become reality. A kneejerk sentiment of primness fell out of her mouth insincerely. "I'm a virgin," she protested.
Dick gripped himself and began to relieve the thundering pressure in his loins.
"I was a virgin," Misfit corrected, mostly to herself, as she leaned over his manipulations.
"Do you like it?" Dick asked, his hand gripping his shaft midway, pumping slowly on its thickness.
"Yes, I do," Misfit said, almost whimpering, her eyes hot on the slow relief Dick was giving his hard-on. Couldn't go too fast, couldn't just explode—there was a lady present. "I like when you play with it like that, Mr. Nightwing."
"You do, huh?"
