Aqualad –"touch"

Dick's thumbs slide underneath the drenched, siren-red polyester of his swim briefs. The fifteen-year-old peels away the material from his chiseled hips with a SNAP! to allow chlorine water to drizzle over tannish legs. He grins at his leader regarding him intently and seating on the edge of the gymnasium's pool, and pants lightly from the exertion of their race, "…Best two outta three?"

"Perhaps another time." Kaldur answers, keeping his voice leveled as Dick pops his neck, strolling towards to him and pushing up tinted goggles, "You have worn me out, my friend."

A pair of very — attractive — blue eyes peer down on him.

"I had to try to match you, at least," Dick insists with an equal amount of levelness, taking up Kaldur's finned hand, "since you've got the advantage over me."

And so begins what is a careful and curious scrutiny of the delicately ridged, fleshy spaces between umber-colored fingers and Kaldur can't find a reason to be offended. Dick had a way of talking sensibly to people, of easing them when uncomfortable, of persuading them. The body, whether it was human or Atlantean, psychologically longed for the sensation of another's touch.

And Dick's touch is certainly not unwelcomed.



Miss Martian –"intuition"

Everyone on the team congratulates Dick on his sixteenth birthday. The room is full of smiles, but at the same time M'gann senses agitation. Collectively. But she doesn't let it weigh happy thoughts.

She just focuses on how content her dear friend is.


Dick's voice signals inside her head. He stands across the common room area where the party takes place, pouring some punch and with his back to her.

{Yes? Is something wrong?} She asks worriedly, debating if it would be proper to approach him, and questioning to herself why he felt the need to contact her through telepathy.

{There was just a small favor I wanted to ask you.}

A gentle smile washes over her features, and she lets those feelings channel into their link. {Anything! It is your birthday after all!}

{I can't prove it… but I'd appreciate it if you would shut your mental link from being directed to me tonight.} His tone never switches out of wary deliberation or being good-natured. He turns with a paper Dixie cup of fruit punch, saying hello to Conner and clapping him on the back as he passes, focusing back on her. {It's not a big deal or anything but I'd like a little… privacy when I'm alone in my room, you know.}

{I'm so sorry.} She flushes visibly, a strawberry color creeping over green. {I…I didn't mean t-to…} Her eyes lower to the floor.

Dick cocks an eyebrow over his cup and sunglasses as he sips, mindfully, slowly. The ambiance — prowess — thrills and shifts restlessly over her in a way that is beyond physical.

{Like I said, not a big deal…okay?}

And she channels it back, with or without meaning to, the tip of her tongue darting out from her lips.




Red Arrow –"sound"

They aren't each other's first kiss. Not by a long shot. Roy's had his once-or-twice off and on relationships in his civilian life and Dick is… popular.

Something about puberty flat out graced this kid with stunningly good looks — not that Dick wasn't kinda a looker to begin with — and that uncanny ability to charm the pants off whoever he wanted…

Not that Roy can blame him for his loss of nerve, or for pinning Dick to the corridor wall, or for the fact he is ravishing Dick's neck. Dick's moans are… soeffinggood.

Lips separate.


Dick's hand curls to the nape of Roy's perspiring neck, and his legs hoist up to tighten on Roy's waist. Roy sucks harder on that junction of throat and jaw as a response. "—nnhh…Does it haa-have to be right here?" A smaller whine escapes Dick's lips when Roy's fingers cradling his side prod underneath his shirt and trace absently over an expansion of skin, pinky nail dragging over a thin scar.

"We can move," Roy mumbles into the bruising patch of skin, pulling his face away. When he lets go of Dick's hips — the teenager clings to him, grinning fiercely and shaking out his messy hair.

A raspy, satisfied noise. "Asterous."



Superboy –"smell"

Conner soon guesses that most people do not share many of his qualities — the super heightened perception, for example.


Most people had that about them. Their scent.

Each of his teammates had their own distinct scent.

Dick has the heaviest of everyone— a combination of smog from Gotham, richly savory food, of electric sweat clinging to his body beneath his uniform. (Not really electric but his scent prickles the hairs on Conner's forearms and behind his neck in the most peculiar way.) When he questions Dick about it, and about his other bodily reactions (though his instincts tell him it would be a fairly strange thing to ask about someone's scent to them), he gets a honest and nonjudgmental response despite Dick's playful nature, "You're aroused by it. That's gotta be the explanation."

"What do I do about it?"

Dick's mouth puckers a little. He's thinking.

"…It doesn't bother you, does it?"


A charming, Dick smile. "Then I say it's perfectly natural." Dick's hand reaches out and squeezes Conner's knee to the couch.



Artemis –"sight"

She can justify her protective feelings. Totally. She wasn't some horn-dog like Klutz Boy was around M'gann. Having concentration was what got her through her entire childhood and surviving it.

Okay, so what, she shattered Black Spider's collarbone? Big whoop.

Just because her blood started boiling hot and terrible when he made a grab at Dick, to her… a not-so-innocent grab for his-…

Dick clicks away his Birdarang into his utility belt, frowning at her. "I had him, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I was… uh…" She struggles a moment to continue and his skepticism deepens, "…watching your back. Teammates and everything." Artemis slaps his shoulder. Firm, muscular-feeling shoulder.

He rolls her hand off, rereading the stats on his holographic computer. "The area is clear. Let's find the others," Dick instructs her, and takes off with his grappling gun. Little voice in the back of her head says don't but… the rush of air flutters the yellow underbelly of his cape midair and she observes how tight everything seems in spandex, tilting her head to the side, chewing on her lip between her teeth.

That boy…



Kid Flash –"taste"

That maniac cackle never meant anything good. It usually meant plotting. Or a situation that would go in Dick's favor and screw Wally over royally.

Dick flips him over during their struggle on the sundae-smeared kitchen floor, dark bangs coated and sticking to his forehead with the whipped cream. His blue eyes light up happily as he holds Wally's shoulders down. A glistening smudge of fudge topping arches from the right side of Dick's pale shirt to the middle of his ribcage, starting to drip somewhat. Wally ignores it, jolting in place when a pair of lips presses to his cheekbone, licking away a bit of the melted pecan ice cream. Though… screwing really… wouldn't be too much of a bad thing considering the circumstances…

Wally trails off softly, thankful that his face wasn't flushing when Dick's eyes met his, "Dude…"

"You started it," the younger teenager points out, running the pad of his chocolate-gooped thumb over the curve of Wally's jawline. "I only returned fire."

Choosing to abandon logic at this point, Wally let his mouth and tongue receive it, circling around Dick's appetizing digit, and nipping at the hardening chocolate.


This turned out to be an interesting and short project for me. I've seen a good amount of Dick as the lust object prompts… and I thought about creating something with each teammate plus Roy and attaching each of those characters with a focus on one of the five senses. I tried to match them accordingly with the character it would seem strongest with. And I was left with a character missing one so then I gave Miss M "intuition"... because yes that turned into some fun. :DD EVERYONE HAS FEELINGS~