Archive of Our Own ^beta

The parlor is connected with the Robinson Park Station via underground passages, in a negative-level crowded shopping center, tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore. It has a sign that says “Fur & Fluff Bunst & Bunlaxation Burrow™” glowing in multi-colored neon light, with the caption “A place where bunnies’ wildest wolfy dreams come true!”

Jason stares up at it, little furry tail fluttering with excitement. It’s his third time here, which says a lot about their services. He pushes open the door, letting himself in. The buzzer welcomes him with a recorded wolfen roar and a tunnel made up of fake forest plants.

A nice-looking red wolf occupies the front desk who is in his late twenties, with a handsome light beard and flashing blue eyes. Behind him, the ads show a naked bunny customer laying on his stomach having his tail massaged by a gorgeous, professional gray wolf masseur with the captions of, “Are you a bunny? Are you bored with this busy Gotham lifestyle and looking to seek some thrills in the comforts of your own city? Then the Fur & Fluff Bunst & Bunlaxation Burrow™ is the place for you!”

The front desk hands Jason a form to fill out that’s too familiar for him now—his preferences for spa treatments and wolves. Whether he likes gray or brown fur, fluffy or sleek; whether he likes it “rough” or gentle, and the scent profile of the wolf in question. After Jason finishes, the front desk wolf winks at him, promises a perfect new handsome masseur to send to his private spa room. Jason has one more free session left from his first-time membership, and he’s determined to use it up.

The private room is decorated like a typical bun burrow—uneven stucco shaped and painted to look like the digs and tunnels of underground soil and rocks, the chamber itself shapeless, the way bunnies dig holes in the wild before modern civilization, making a cozy little warren without windows. The walls are stacked with dried hay (for decoration, mostly), and the little table beside the bed has a tray full of veggie sticks and cut fruits. Jason checks himself out in the mirror on the wall before the bed, notices some fur sticking from his lopped ear, and grooms it with a comb he finds on the cart.

It’s nice here, reminds him of the nests he used to build in Wayne Manor when he was just a wee little adopted bun, all snug and warm and feels like home. Jason can’t wait for his personal Big Bad Wolf to show up and give him a fright.

He takes off his hoodie, slipping his big ears through, folds it neatly on the table, and removes his pants. His little flufftail pops out of his boxers as he shimmies out of them, folding everything like a neat freak before plopping himself down onto the massage bed.

There he waits patiently for his masseur.

The wolf doesn’t hold him up for long—just five more minutes. A wave of wolfish scent wafts from the open door as a familiar cheery voice greets him.

“Well hello, my lovely prey, how can I serve you today?”

The fur on Jason’s tail and ears stands up, but not for the reasons he’s hoping. His teeth clatter as he looks up from where he lies prone on the bed, stares straight at the wolf masseur they sent his way, with his recognizable black hair, recognizable blue eyes, and recognizable frustratingly bright smile.

Jason’s lopped ears fold back, his torso lowers, and he lifts his thigh, thumping strongly on the end section of the bed.

The wolf’s hands fly up.

“Woah, feisty bunny!” the masseur says with an upward lilt, lips curved up. “A wolf can already tell that he’s gotta work hard to catch his meal!”

“Cut the act—what are you doing here, Grayson?” Jason hisses.

“Now, bunny sir, I’ve been chosen as your masseur for the hour because of our compatibility, according to the form you filled.” Dick lifts the clipboard in his hand, showing Jason the front, where red circles are drawn over Jason’s own handwriting. “A wolf is doing his job.”

“You don’t work here.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Jason narrows his eyes. There’s nothing about Dick’s body language that tells of nervousness. He’s a good actor—Jason has been to this establishment, seen the photos on their website, and knows all the choices of wolf masseurs, and Dick isn’t one. He knows Dick is up to something by showing up here, perhaps another case that involves bunny clients. That makes Jason even more suspicious.

“Look, Jay—I have a cover to keep, and I suspect you want to get your money’s worth. So here’s what I propose—I give the massage, and you get your spa day, no strings attached. Deal?”

Great. Now he drops the act?

“Is it too late to ask them to switch wolves?” Jason deadpans.

“Sure. You’ll just have to wait for—” Dick makes a point of looking at his wrist, where he isn’t wearing a watch—“another three hours, for the next wolf to free up.”

Oh, Jesus-fucking-Christ.

“I want my money back.” Jason keeps his cool, blank expression. “There’s no way I’m gonna get my money’s worth with a spoiled prick like you.”

“Then you’ll be surprised how good I am at this job!” Dick beams at him and throws a towel over his shoulder. He wears the same uniform as all the wolf masseurs, simple pajamas in gray, the same color as his ears and tail. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric so that horizontal creases form when he pulls his arms back.

Jason’s eyes follow Dick’s movement hostilely when the wolf approaches the cart, getting his tools ready. He watches with suspicion as Dick skillfully disinfects the tools using alcohol and uncaps the vial of scented oil. The way the wolf rubs the oil between his palms looks so practiced that it mustn’t be his first time doing this.

Dick’s palms are warm when he spreads the oil across Jason’s back. Jason can feel those steel fingers rubbing down his spine, sliding over his muscle masses, bony and purposeful. That familiar feeling of fear starts to pass through Jason’s body, the flight adrenaline triggered by a wolf’s touch, and Jason feels his arousal growing between his legs, moistening up his pussy.

“There you go,” the wolf says, snapping Jason out of his haze, and it’s not until then that he realizes how much he’s been daydreaming about those sturdy fingers going down and down past his little flufftail, right up his—

“I can see you’ve got practice,” says Jason, trying to sound sarcastic.

“Oh. I’m a professional. I can make a bunny feel good any time.”

Jason tries not to let himself think too deeply of that sentence, pretending it’s just tongue-in-cheek rather than Dick’s insinuation that he’s had multiple bunnies to practice with. With Dick Grayson, that doesn’t sound farfetched.

Jason sighs into the face rest, relaxing into the sensation of Dick’s hands on him, rubbing the oil (bergamot and grass, a bunny favorite) all over his back, on his arms, and down his butt cheeks. When Dick moves downward, Jason can feel the side of his pinkie touching the down on his tail. The dickhead isn’t just boasting—he really is good at this, his fingers and knuckles dipping in all the right places to make an overworked, sore bunny relax. Jason even hums when Dick puts pressure on a bruise he’s gotten during his nightly patrols, the slight soreness welcoming.

Dick kneads, squeezes, compresses Jason’s spinal cord, moving onto his hips. His fingers feel wonderful in their confident strength handling all his sore spots, so good that Jason starts to doze off, but then Dick touches the fur on his tail and Jason snaps awake again.

The wolf masseur takes the bunny’s tail—toasted caramel on one side, pure creamy white on the other—and flattens the fur using his hand. Jason turns silent and still, his prey senses kicking in at a predator grabbing onto his behind, and he turns on his observant strategy to gauge his rival’s actions. Dick’s wolfish scent is putrid now above the calming, grassy perfumed oil—some feral, raffish musk that speaks in pure danger to a bunny’s brain, sending complex signals through Jason’s head from a million generations in evolution.

Dick takes a fine-toothed comb from the side, specially made for a bunny’s soft down, and grooms the fur. It’s always nice to feel his tail groomed, even if it’s by a dangerous wolf, and Jason lets out a contented purr despite himself.

“I take thanks in the form of tips, mister,” Dick sings as he works, making sure Jason’s tail is all nice and groomed before he moves to kneading the bunny’s butt cheeks. These don’t feel any safer than having his tail touched—a bunny’s backside is his temple, and to let a wolf touch it is inviting danger. Jason wouldn’t have come to Bunst & Bunlaxation if he wasn’t seeking this kind of thrill.

“I don’t like wolves that talk too much.”

“Oh, I see. You prefer the kind of wolves who dig into their meals right away.”

“I don’t like how you’re talking.”

“How am I talking?”

“Like you’re playing house.”

“Like a wolf,” Dick says.

Jason moans when Dick kneads an achy spot. Recognizing the knot of muscles, Dick attacks that same spot again, making Jason tense and whine from a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Is that the moan of fear I hear,” Dick says, “or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m happy to piss on you.”

Dick laughs, pinches the muscles on Jason’s thigh.

“Sorry, bun. That’s not included in the session. However, I can piss on you for an extra price.”

“No thanks, you fucking dumbass.” Maybe some other day.

Jason’s cunt is leaking when Dick moves on. Like a skilled wolf masseur, he hauls Jason’s hips like it’s second nature, making it look like he’s presenting himself. But Dick just needs the angle to rub and knead the muscles in Jason’s flanks, the front of his thighs, and the plush flesh of his pecs. Dick does all these areas with expertise, further making Jason suspicious of the wolf’s experiences with bunnies. Jason’s tail droops one moment, curls up the next, sometimes wagging from Dick’s movements, always leaving his dripping cunt open for access.

Then finally, finally, Dick moves onto the pussy itself, scooping up Jason’s juice with his hands, rubbing the natural lube all over the exposed lips. He runs his fingers down the slit until he touches the bunny’s cocklet, making Jason whine.

“Does this scare you, little bunny?” Dick teases. “Does it make you nervous that the Big Bad Wolf is so close to digging around inside you?”

“The only thing scares me is my eardrums bleeding from your stupid voice.”

But that’s just Jason acting tough. He’s shaking, his tail twitching from the prospect of stimulation. Dick’s wolfish scent is so strong and threatening he can die inhaling it, and the fear fuels his desire like a fire held over his crotch. Oh, God. This is the high Jason’s been chasing ever since—

Dick wriggles one finger down Jason’s pussy, fucks him on his finger, and Jason trills.

“Oh, fuck! Oh… Goddammit!”

“I know, I know, slutty bunny wants a wolf holding him down with his teeth. Is that it?”

“Fuck… Damn it, Dick!”

“There’s no need to squirm like that. I’ll get to it, eventually. I’m an excellent host.”

“I swear I’ll kill you.”

Dick’s laughter is grating, threatening, intoxicating. Jason wants that asshole energy all to himself, wants to feel ripped apart by a predator that makes that kind of noise. He wants Dick, with all his showy ego and nasty charm; wants this perfect image of Bruce’s adopted wolf to fucking ruin him.

Then Dick slips his finger out (making Jason whine for a moment, wagging his tail) and replaces it with the rounded head of a spa-use massager, pushing it inside.

Jason arches his torso and keens.

“Oh, fuck… Oh, fuck!”

“Yes, I know, I know.” Dick keeps pushing until the rounded tip is pressed against Jason’s G-spot, snuggly settling there. Jason’s cunt is so slicked up that it feels like digging into clay. Dick pinches the end of the toy and swirls it inside Jason’s cunt, stimulating him in all directions before pumping the thing in and out. “I know you love it.”

“If… you’re a regular m-masseur, you’d be fired from all th-that dumb shit you talk about.”

Dick whistles and fucks him with the toy harder until he finally plunges it inside as far as it goes and turns on the power. The toy jumps to life, making Jason vibrate with it.

“Oh… shit… mhrph…” Jason tosses his head down and curls his hands into fists. His cunt clenches around the intrusion, squeezing it until he can feel the vibration all throughout his walls and reaching into his limbs. He must be overflowing like a river; no stopping the thrill ride now.

Dick is still holding the end of the toy, despite how fast it’s moving. He keeps pumping it slowly, letting Jason feel the vibration course through his pussy. Then he takes another object—perhaps another toy—and pushes its cool surface against the engorged cocklet hanging between Jason’s legs.

“Oh, oh God, no—”

Jason recognizes his intentions and shakes all over.

“I know you’ll hate this, but I’ll love seeing it.”

“You fucking asshole—” He wants it. He wants it so freaking bad despite how scary it is, how much Dick’s scent intimidates him as he threateningly squeezes his cocklet with the torture device.

Dick turns it on.

It’s like heaven and hell all at once, an overwhelming wave of feelings. Jason feels like his nerves are exploding, sending aftershocks all over his body, so he’s spasming like Frankenstein’s monster under electricity. He knows he must have screamed, shuddered, clenched, and came all over himself.

Because when Jason comes to, slumped over the massage bed and still jerking from the aftershock, he’s really made a mess of himself, covered in cum and slick. He’s even pissed himself, leaking urine from his cocklet that’s still dripping after his small stream of bunny cum.

Dick pushes the toy’s tip further into Jason as he says, “You did so well coming on demand. Such a messy, obedient bunny customer.”

Jason is too tired to give him the satisfaction of a reply. Dick is unfazed; he removes the vibrator, stuffs Jason up with a knotted dildo. He pumps air into the toy so the knot inflates, plugging up the bunny’s bun pussy. Jason whines, feeling the knot growing into the size of his fist, filling him completely. His body is both sore and relaxed, the knot sending placating knotting hormones all over his body.

“Now’s the time I leave you.” Dick taps a finger on his chin, feigning thought. “Or… an opportunity to prolong the session and finally devour my bun prey.”

Jason slurs, “Go fuck off.”

“Oh, but I earned the meal, haven’t I?”

“What were you even doing here?”

Dick leans down, turning up one of Jason’s lopped ears to explain to it.

“Bunny mafia.” A humorless whisper. He isn’t pretending when they’re this close, when no one can hear them. “Their leader frequents here, and I’m keeping an eye out. You don’t have anything to do with that, do you?”

The voice is threatening, whether intentionally or not, filled with a wolfish growl. Jason shudders from it.

Jason pins him with a glare and hisses, “I don’t fucking know nor do I care. I just wanted a massage.”

“Right.” A fake smile once again replaces his true face, and Dick straightens. A perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing. “I apologize for the presumption. Now, please allow me to compensate by giving you another session—”

He digs around the cart and finds a different vibrator, this time twice as big as the first.

Seeing this, Jason moans, pulling down his ears to cover his face as Dick rubs it on the folds of his cunt.

“Come on, bun,” the wolf says, “I promise full satisfaction!”

You better, after the fright you just gave me and how you ruined my spa day. Jason whines when Dick turns the vibrator on, and he knows it’s going to be a long, long night tonight.

As he rocks and spasms from the torture, Jason can no longer decide whether Dick ruined his spa day… or has made it better.