Work Text:
“Lend me your vessel,” said the Deity. “I will reshape you into perfection.”
Dick had first heard these words in one of his dreams, reverberating off of his own soul. In the dream, he saw the Deity’s mass—a titanic shape with glowing eyes, formless wings, and what vaguely resembled a swan’s neck. The Deity bent low, its long neck coiling like a snake so it could open its maws and swallow Dick without moving.
“Who are you?” Dick asked in his dream. “What do you want?”
“I am the Nightwing,” the Deity replied, “the Kryptonian god of the darkness, and once we’re one, we will take the One We Both Desire, remake him into something beautiful.”
Dick woke up with a strange feeling of darkness within him. As if the Deity in his dream hadn’t left at all but stayed inside his soul. He could feel its presence threaded throughout his body; he could feel it in his bones.
From that night, everything had changed for Dick.
Now, it’s like he’s sharing his brain and body with someone… something else. There’s always this presence, an entity that has woven itself into the fabric of Dick’s flesh, the very cells of Dick’s blood.
Nearly imperceptible changes are made to Dick’s vision—bright light starts to hurt his eyes while darkness soothes them. Dick can see things much better in the darkness, recognize shapes and forms he’d never seen in the night. Sometimes, he sees double images, as if the Other living inside his flesh has a lag of perception, so that sometimes, for a brief second, Dick can see the visions of both the Kryptonian deity Nightwing and Dick Grayson. Every word he says echoes with the voices of two; every breath coming out simultaneously warm and icy to the bone.
It’s like the Nightwing god’s very soul is integrated into Dick’s. Dick starts to grow nocturnal, navigating the shadows with the quietness of air. He starts to think differently, too, his brain fracturing into many dimensions. He can think about many facets independently, being in numerous places all at once.
But every time Dick tries to tell someone about these changes, his throat closes up, and darkness takes over his vision.
Whenever Dick wakes up from one of these blackout spells, he barely remembers who he was with before he lost his memory, or how that conversation had ended, or how he got himself away and ended up in totally unfamiliar places.
Fear, horror, concern, and desire all rule within him. Nightwing does not want Dick to stop these changes from happening to his physique. And the more Dick lives with the god inside him, the less concern it makes him feel. Like numbing a constant pain.
Dick does his research. He doesn’t know why the Kryptonian god had chosen him, but he tries to learn everything he can about it. Like the stories Clark had told him before Dick took on the mantle, the Nightwing is one of the primordial creations in Kryptonian mythology. It was a consort of the deity of destruction, Firebird; it was the darkness to her light, the void to her destruction. There’s something that Nightwing wants from him. The more Dick learns, the clearer the picture becomes.
Meanwhile, Dick’s changes continue until he only superficially resembles a human. His flesh is stronger; his strength and speed grow with preternatural intensity. He can teleport between shadows or turn parts of his body into shapeless masses of tentacles.
His bones become… malleable. He can reshape them at will—lengthen his limbs, make them bend or stretch in inhuman ways. He can create new joints out of thin air or turn them into writhing tendrils.
His core temperature has dropped to the point where every breath comes out in gouts of misty water vapor. Inside, his organs have rearranged themselves—the heart pumps icy blood, the stomach grinds rocks and minerals into building blocks to feed his new, improved physique. His penis is cold as ice and dark as the void, lined with the bumps and spikes of antediluvian beasts.
Finally, Dick is one with Nightwing.
And he’s never felt better.
“Bring me him,” the Nightwing says when it deems Dick ready. “Bring me Flamebird.”
Jason tenses at the coldness behind him. Dick purses his lips in dismay. As sneaky as he is, silent and unseen, there’s one thing he cannot hide. The iciness that accompanies him wherever he goes.
Jason swivels back, hair flying beneath his hood, a hand over his pistol. Jaw drops when he witnesses the fresh magnificence of Dick’s new body.
“Nightwing…?”
Dick floats lower, black sails of shadows spreading from his back. Where his limbs are, there are only coiling, changing feelers like those of primordial monsters.
He is the avatar of the Nightwing. He is the Kryptonian god, and he can see from Jason’s expression that his brother and soon-to-be consort has quickly clocked that he is definitely no longer the inferior being Dick Grayson used to be.
“You must come with me,” Dick says, his voice echoing in the void—cold, though taking on an air of infatuation just as he’s always done when it came to Jason.
As his powers grew, as his biology shifted, that infatuation had also grown, rising from a steady beat of a drum into a crescendo. Has that also been Nightwing’s doing? Taking a feeling that had already existed in Dick Grayson, reshaping it, forming into the obsession that he now possesses for his brother?
Jason acts quickly—draws and shoots. His bullets are swallowed by the darkness forming Dick’s torso—a hungry void that eats up anything and everything. He curses, turns, rolls onto the next rooftop over. Dick gives him a five-second head start before pursuing him.
Jason puts up an incredible fight, and he is resourceful. But in the end, the human body, with its restrictions and limits, is no match for the perfection the Nightwing has created with Dick.
A surge of black energy causes Jason’s comm to malfunction before he can call for backup. Jason hisses at the ringing in his ears, ripping out the earpiece. He fumbles his steps, tumbling down when one of Nightwing’s tendrils sweeps at him.
Jason swings a punch when Dick positions himself on top of his falling form. With far superior speed, Dick slaps that fist away. He closes in and touches Jason.
Jason’s facial muscles turn lax as a familiar shade of darkness overtakes the whites of his eyes.
Nightwing’s darkness has taken over, and Jason is Dick’s.
Dick takes his brother’s unconscious body into a makeshift safehouse—a run-down room on the fifth story of an abandoned building in Blüdhaven, where he boarded up all the windows and soundproofed all the walls.
At first, Dick chains Jason to the bed with thick Kryptonian steel. He allows the glares and the tantrums with coolness, doing nothing beyond bringing Jason food and water. He watches and waits. Nightwing has elevated his human vessel, ordaining him with divine immortality. Dick has all the time in the universe to wait.
Bruce doesn’t question the Red Hood’s absence. Even on his good days, Jason regularly disappears for months at a time. It’s normal for him. So when he actually vanishes, no one has thought to question where he’d gone.
By the time anyone thinks to look, it’ll be too late.
It’d taken some time, but eventually, Jason’s resistance lessened.
That initial burst of rebellious energy had burned away while Jason stayed in captivity, and the longer he strained against Dick’s rule, the faster fatigue set in.
And of course, the daily dosage of the Nightwing’s touch has helped to bring Jason into an altered state where his brain is forcibly opened, his senses trained to allow the terrifying power of the gods to enter him.
All to prepare him to receive and become Flamebird.
With Nightwing’s spirit guiding him, Dick directs his long, branch-like fingers to start from the neck and travel down the left of Jason’s chest (he’s always kept naked) over the nipple, circle around the cock, dipping slightly behind the balls, then finish by tracing the rim of Jason’s hole. These are cold touches—touches that turn everything glacial, cause goosebumps to form, and trigger Jason’s survival instincts to set in. Nightwing makes Dick touch Jason a lot to stimulate him, to get him used to the power that’s taken an interest in him, and to train him to respond.
Jason fought at the beginning, but he’d soon learned that this would not stop it from happening. Eventually, he’d stopped fighting back.
Before long, Dick had started sensing him responding to the cold. Flamebird was awakening, just awaiting to be called out of its slumber.
So Dick had done more. Kisses, caresses, fingers inserted inside that warm cavity through the tight rim between Jason’s cheeks. Jason’s strained, frightened gasp, “Don’t… don’t, Dick… This isn’t you…”
Dick almost laughed at the irony of that coming out of Jason’s mouth.
But still, Dick has followed his instincts because he knew Jason would come around. When the changes are complete, Jason will see that it has always been worth it.
The first time Dick mounts Jason, Jason has seen it coming. It doesn’t mean he does not put up a fight—when Dick circles his wrists with splits of his tendrils, Jason strains against them. He grinds his teeth; he kicks at Dick. But when Dick descends upon him, all tentacles and lips and tongue and love, Jason melts under his touch.
As Dick prepares Jason with his tongue, softening his hole and using god-spit as lube to prepare it for the assault, then propping it open with writhing feelers, Jason lets out a shameful sob, arching upward. Dick licks up his taint, sucks his balls, then takes his entire cock into his mouth, letting what passes for a throat spasm around the cockhead.
It’s rewarding to watch Jason writhe, listen to Jason moan. It dawns on Dick how long he’s waited for this.
And Jason will learn. When it’s over, he will learn that this is all for his own good, and that Nightwing’s love knows no bounds.
Dick enters Jason with his monstrous and inhuman cock and makes Jason scream. He rocks into Jason until Jason turns into a puddle and lets Dick do whatever he wants with him, letting the pleasure course through him as if he’s given up; as if there’s no way to stop this from happening.
Dick fucks him until he releases inside Jason, burning him with the iciness of his seed.
The seed of Nightwing.
Dick fucks Jason a lot.
He does it as much as he can—sometimes twenty, thirty times a day. With his heightened speed, he can do a round fast, pushing his brother-paramour over the limits endlessly, with minimal effort. With the new form of his body, he can satisfy Jason in multiple ways all at once, turning Jason into a slave of pleasure.
Dick fucks Jason in numerous positions. He fucks him missionary, doggy, or against a wall. He fucks him in the air or lets him ride him on days when he’s particularly well-behaved.
The positions don’t matter; what matters is that they’re together, and each day, Jason’s body gets more used to Dick’s cock, Dick’s cum. Each day, Jason glows more with the divine likeness of Flamebird. His eyes are fiery, and his lips burn against Dick’s skin.
By now, Jason has put the pieces together and understands who has been controlling Dick, making him commit this great act of love, but it’s too late to change the trajectory of events.
The goal has been set, and Jason is in too deep. Soon, he will be returning Dick’s love with all his heart.
Soon, Jason’s transformation into the vessel of Flamebird will be complete.
Watching Jason’s loving eyes as he fucks him right on the mattress in the boarded-up room, Dick can feel the spirit of Flamebird speaking her love through him. Jason moans so low and gorgeously each time Dick thrusts into his guts, fully possessing him with his own changed anatomy. Beautiful, radiant, and he’s never loved Jason more.
Jason reaches through Dick’s tendril arms to touch his shoulders (it’s been a long time since Dick had to restrain him), holding Dick close. Jason allows Dick to wrap his wings around him while he wraps his legs around Dick’s middle, so that Dick’s cock can plunge as deeply as he wants it to go.
“Love me,” Jason whispers in Dick’s ear, his body burning with Flamebird’s fire.
“Love you,” Dick echoes back with Nightwing’s voice, kissing him, letting his seed spill into him.