Continued from here.

"Of course," Jason says, "we just confirmed *every* nasty thing the criminals say about us."

He sounds like he's laughing inside, but that's not quite all he's doing. Still, she can absolutely take his lead. "Not *everything*, I don't think. I've yet to acquire a strap-on and apply it vigorously to Bruce, just as an example."

Jason laughs softly and pushes up on his elbow, grinning hard. "You loved that comment to fucking *death*, didn't you?"

Tim looks down, and practices her impression of 'demure.' "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Bruce shifts, just a little, and -- "To... me?"

Ooh, communication. Interest, even. Tim strokes a small spiral over Bruce's ribs. "With great vigor, yes."

Bruce grunts softly and strokes Tim's shoulder.

Tim shifts a little, and wonders when, exactly, she'd learned to consider rock hard biceps to be such nice pillows.

Jason sighs and strokes his hand over Bruce's chest until he can hold hers. He squeezes. "Yeah, I... I gotta admit I hit that guy pretty hard. I mean, the images alone --"

"Burned indelibly on your brain, Jay...?"

"Well, *yeah*, baby. I was trying to jerk off that night and I was stuck with the image of you having *two* dicks, and I was tired enough that I started to wonder if *that* was why you wouldn't let me into your tights."

Tim -- coughs. "Ah -- well, yes, that would've been *a* reason, to be sure."

"I'm quite sure," Bruce says -- stops.

Tim turns her head in a little and thinks about kissing Bruce, thinks about... she's been rather... very. And very rather, for that matter. She remembers thinking about how much it turned Jason on, but that hasn't been the whole of it for quite some time.

It's harder, now. It feels like... admitting something? Claiming something she's not supposed to have? She blushes and feels Bruce tense, thinks about moving her leg *off* Bruce --

"Oh, man, now you're *both* uncomfortable," Jason says, squeezing Tim's hand and letting go. "Hey, c'mon, we *already* fucked each other stupid. We can handle the afterparty."

("And then you're no good to anyone.")

Tim winces internally and -- all right. Go with it. Afterparty. *Really* -- really. Jason needs her to -- Jason needs them *both* to cope, and the tenser *she* is, the harder it will be for Bruce to relax. She compromises a little and nuzzles against Bruce's arm, pressing hard a few times, breathing him *in* --

He'd smelled like soap when they'd gotten here. Now he smells like *male*, and a great deal of sex. And her ass... is talking to her. Mostly in smug little aches and twinges, but -- yes.

They had really -- yes. So. Talk. Say something. Anything -- "Barbara. I think she knew this would happen," she says, quietly.

"Uh -- really?"

"Barbara has always been astute. She has only become more so," Bruce says, and strokes Tim's shoulder again. "And yet I find myself... wondering."

"Well, *yeah*," Jason says and lets go of Tim's hand so he can stroke it, instead, warm it a little -- "What did she *say*?"

She had definitely started this. "She seemed mostly concerned... um. She wanted to make sure I knew I could say no, and that I *really* knew what I wanted."

"Okay, that makes sense. She's really --"

"Did you?" And Bruce is putting just a little pressure on her shoulder.

"Um, *yeah*, B, or she wouldn't have --"

"I knew. And -- I also knew that it didn't really matter," Tim says, and swallows, waits for it --

"What. Tim, no, I -- Jesus, you -- we *talked* about it --"

"It's all right, Jason, and yes, we *did* talk about it. It's just -- I knew from the beginning -- from *before* the beginning -- that once we started I wouldn't really be able to stop. To... I couldn't stop -- oh --"

Bruce *pulls* her onto her back and turns to --

Well, it really is something of a *loom*. "Bruce --"

"Jesus, B --"

"Are you all right," Bruce says, and it's -- definitely a question. It's just that it's also an *order*.

"So... I take it that you're remembering that I'm fourteen years old, at the moment," Tim says, and takes a breath, watches Bruce wince -- she doesn't need to punish him. "One of the things I told Barbara was that I didn't want you to treat me like a child, Bruce --"

"Tim, I wouldn't -- it's not that --"

"No?" Tim raises an eyebrow.

After a moment, Bruce stops pinning her by her shoulder and settles back onto the bed, stiff again, but -- it's better.

She turns back onto her side, gives Jason a look that *should* communicate that she's all right -- "Bruce. The fact that I get... carried away... well, it's a *fact*, and I tend to think of it as a positive one."

"But -- Jesus, baby, if you were -- I thought you were *okay* --"

"I was, for the most part. And you both know when I *wasn't* entirely okay with what was going on..." Tim shakes her head and taps Bruce's chest with two fingers. "There was *nothing* I could do to stop this, and, in the end, it doesn't have a thing to do with either of you," she says, and *looks* at both of them.

Bruce sits up enough to brace himself on his elbows. He's frowning -- and Jason looks a little sick.

Tim sighs. "Look, both of you -- I don't have any regrets, and I wasn't really... I'm not *planning* on having any unless and until Jason decides that he doesn't really want me, anymore --"

"*Baby* --"

"*Or* -- Bruce decides to continue to fail at coping with us. I'm *okay*, or -- I will be. I just need a little time to let this all settle in, and neither of you are *helping*."

Jason rears back a little, and -- possibly that *was* a slap. And Bruce is still frowning, but -- but. He turns enough that he can touch her face, putting light pressure on her cheek until she meets his eyes.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"I understand... helplessness. And love that doesn't allow freedom."

Tim -- takes a breath. "Yes, *that* --"

"Wait, no, that sounds *horrible*," Jason says, sitting up all the way and resting his hand on Bruce's chest again. "You -- I think you're both seriously missing the *point* of love, here --"

"Perhaps," Bruce says, and turns onto his back again. "But it's what -- we -- know."

Tim nods and slowly, deliberately lies back down. Bruce does the same, wrapping his arm around her again and pulling her close.

Jason stares at both of them *hard*, eyes wide -- and then he laughs, low and not especially amused. "Sometimes I think I should be worried about the two of *you* leaving me."

Tim stiffens and feels Bruce doing the same. "Jay --"

"*No*, you're both... you understand each other in ways I can't fucking touch and don't really -- sometimes I think it's better that I *can't* --"

"Jay," Bruce says. "She will never --"

"God, B, you don't know --"

"He *does*," Tim says and reaches across Bruce's chest until Jason takes her hand. "I -- you have the better *way*, and I'm trying -- and I *know* Bruce is trying -- to get there. It's just not *easy*, and what we have... it's okay so long as there's you. Everything is."

And Jason is searching her, a little, and maybe they all need to be wearing signboards with long, detailed lists of their issues and neuroses so they can *stop* searching each other all the time, but -- she can sit through it, *lie* through it, and beg with all of herself for Jason to *understand*.

It takes several moments, but Jason nods, squeezing her hand. "You -- you both need me."

"Yes," Bruce says, and reaches up to squeeze Jason's shoulder.

"Very -- very much. Is what you said, B."

Bruce nods and holds Tim a little tighter.

"God, that just doesn't stop looking good to me. I wish I knew -- I wish I could *understand* why, but mostly I'm glad it's there. It just -- I couldn't handle it if we weren't together in everything, Tim. I need you too much for that, and I don't know how to say thank you for doing this, for *being* this, with us --"

"You don't..." Tim shakes her head. "It's nothing you have to thank me for. I really... Barbara and I spent a great deal of time discussing Bruce, over and above the rest of the situation, and... well," Tim says, and squeezes Jason's hand.

"'Well?' Do we get to hear about that? I mean, is it more or less traumatic than the rest?" And Jason's grin is small, but there.

"Trauma is an important part of any romantic relationship," Bruce says, quiet and *dry* --

Jason snorts and lets go of Tim's hand to thump him on the chest. "Fucking *stop* that."

Of course, Jason doesn't *mean* that, and *probably* Bruce knows that just as well as she does, but it doesn't hurt to squeeze Bruce a little to make *sure* he knows --

And because she can.

"Yeah, okay, I'm done protesting for now. It's *late*," he says, and lies back down. "You know, it *is* weird to be doing this with you, B, maybe even weirder than the sex -- do *not* tell me that I can stop, because I *know* that..."

Bruce nods.

"Anyway, it doesn't -- there were times, over the years, when I've wanted someone in my bed. Just -- not even sex. Sometimes I used to crawl in with my Mom -- oh, shit, okay, I'm leaving that thought right there, because -- because," and Jason laughs again. "Did I mention being bad at this, yet? 'Cause -- yeah."

Tim bites her lip and thinks about saying -- something, but --

"Jay," Bruce says, quiet and *full*. "It's -- I understand that I should've been. I've wanted, in the past, to *be* --"

"My father? Yeah, well, we can't -- have that. We *really* can't. But we can have other things, and that *includes* this, yeah? Yeah," and he reaches across Bruce's chest again and squeezes Tim's arm. "So what *were* you saying about B, baby?"

Barbara's secrets? Maybe, but she doesn't think so. Barbara had been too *easy* about telling her, confident and secure and everything Batgirl should always be. "We talked about attraction. About how it's not really *possible* to be around Bruce for very long without... without."

"Heh. I think *I* did pretty well with that for a couple of years, but it's not like I can't see where she's coming from with that. If I'd had just a few *different* issues..." And Jason lets go of her again to stroke down Bruce's chest. "You're kinda hot, B."

"I. She said... that?"

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I think she'd be surprised to the point of actual physical pain if you said you *hadn't* noticed her attraction to you."

"It's only that... she's a very private person, Tim," Bruce says, as if Tim *didn't* know that.

Tim strokes over to Jason's hand for long enough to hook their index fingers together and then goes back to mapping the scar nearest to her face. "Yes, she is. And it was very clear that she wanted me to understand the *history* of relationships within our... family," she says, and winces --

"Yeah, I think we're just going to keep tripping over that," Jason says. "Keep going."

Bruce squeezes her, firmly and not especially briefly. An offer of comfort? A request?

"I... anyway. She was very understanding of *my* attraction, and told me about a certain night --"

"There had been a bomb. We had time enough neither to escape nor to defuse it. I covered her with my body."

Is Barbara watching this? Will she make a point of checking it out at another time? She should know how well Bruce *remembers*. "Ah -- yes."

"The timing was no less appropriate than my feelings."

Jason whistles. "So... you and Babs had kind of a thing?"

"No," Bruce says.

"Kind of," Tim says. "Shouldn't mutual attraction count as 'a thing?'"

Bruce doesn't answer, and really, it's entirely rational and correct for the universe they live in that Bruce's face is *somehow* in shadow. But. Tim rolls away and turns on the bedside lamp, and Bruce raises his eyebrow at her.

"*Transparency* is an important part of any romantic relationship."

"Hear fucking hear," and Jason taps Bruce's chest. "So it's not just young guys and girls shaped like guys?"

Shaped like... definitely to the point. And Bruce strokes her arm, perhaps just in case she hadn't liked that? Tim shifts and looks at Bruce, trying to read past the darkness and distance of his expression -- she knows Jason is doing the same thing, and he lacks -- she thinks he lacks -- the little touches which may as well be designed to... reassure.

"Seriously, B," he says, and gets up on his elbow again --

And Tim knows, deeply and absolutely, that if Jason could stay still, Bruce would be touching him constantly. Perhaps even more than he's touching her --

"She's a beautiful woman. Brilliant and strong, determined and... there is a light, within her, that I thought would dim with time and under her injuries. I have always wished I might be closer, and hoped that her relationship with Dick would allow for more... intimacy, between us," and Bruce seems to release as much as he relaxes. His eyes are still distant, but much of the tension is gone.

"You have a gift for making emotional honesty seem both hideously painful and a vast relief," Tim says.

"You don't find it so, Tim?"

Tim smiles. "Perhaps the former."

"So, let me get this straight," Jason says, and taps Bruce's chest again. "I *know* you're not down with Dick's relationship with Kory, but -- it's because she's getting in the way of you living through Dick in order to have Babs?"

Bruce smiles wryly. "When you put it that way it seems ridiculously shameful and immature, Jay."

Tim bites back a snicker; Jason doesn't bother.

"Riiiight. Okay, so you basically have issues with all of us *except* for Tim."

"Give me time," Bruce says, and touches Jason's cheek. "I'm not unaware of my failings, and I know that that isn't good enough."

Jason nods and reaches up to grip Bruce's hand. "You have us now, B. You'll deal or we'll *torture* you until you deal."

Jason, using that chair to break a window -- no, not here. That's not... it's not a part of *this*, and she -- deliberately, again -- slides her leg against Bruce's own.

"I -- you don't shave, Tim."

"Talk about a fucking *subject* change. Hey, you leave her hair alone. I like it fine --"

"I've considered it," Tim says, because it's the truth, and because it's a way away from a fear she wants no part of, right now.

"Seriously, baby, all the other girls I know say it's a pain in the *ass*."

"Well. You know how averse I am to that sort of discomfort --"

Jason snorts. "How *are* you feeling, right now?"

"Exceedingly well-used, and thank you for asking," Tim says, and slides her hand down to Bruce's navel before checking --

Bruce is smiling somewhere behind his eyes, and it's sort of... hovering at his mouth. There's still a streak of blood on his chin, and Tim thinks about reaching up to scratch at it --

And perhaps it's just one of those things that Jason licks his thumb and scrubs at Bruce. "Sick of lookin' at that, and yeah, I know, I totally just pulled a Mom. We're good, everybody carry on."

"Yes, well, *anyway*," Tim says. "I can't really... well, the first thing I want to do is get my ears pierced. I have a couple of studs from Barbara, and I thought we might go together, Jay."

"Ooh, yeah. You have to wear plain studs for a while, but... you've got that nice long neck. Earrings would really work on you."

Long neck? Really? "I -- I'd hardly call the studs plain..."

"Are you sure you wish to trust them to a body artist's punch, Tim?"

Jason grins. "What, you want to pierce them for her, B? Get a little ice cube action going --"

"I would. I would like it very much," Bruce says, and he's frowning and *not* squeezing or stroking Tim --

"Oh... uh. Whoa. Did I just trip over a kink?" Jason rubs Bruce's chest. "Hey, if she says you can pierce her ears, I have no problem with it."

"It would certainly be safer for the microcircuitry," Tim says, and -- "I trust you."

"You *give* --" Bruce shakes his head. "Both of you. I don't understand."

"It's better than the alternative, Bruce --"

"And it *feels* right," Jason says, and rolling over onto his back and sighing. "Man, I'm gonna be dragging, tomorrow."

"Rest," Bruce says. "Please."

"Right here, B...? Yeah, I think I can do that."

She thinks she can, too.

And there's about five minutes of silence save for the sound of their breathing and the light sounds of bodies moving against fabric. It's warm enough in here that Tim doesn't feel any great need to get under the covers -- Bruce seems to give *off* heat -- and it's... good.

She's not touching Jason, but Bruce's hold on her isn't especially dissimilar from one of the ways Jason holds her when they're about to go to sleep, and thinking about it... Tim's pretty sure that's not accidental.

She'll turn over when she's asleep, and... *does* Bruce sleep on his back?

Jason yawns and Tim does, too. Bruce takes a deep breath and strokes Tim's arm, up and down and up again, again. She's being petted, by *Bruce* --

And Jason had said that Bruce had *them*, now, and that's...

Maybe she's too tired to panic. Or maybe... she doesn't know. What she *does* know is that she could give this up if Jason needed her to do so, and that she doesn't want to.

She feels... Bruce is so *warm*, in so many ways, and he understands -- so much. He's words that she doesn't ever have to say, and he is grace and control, power and *age*. Brilliance and a kind of wisdom that touches him lightly, but comes through with his actions... possibly it's just kindness and... love.

Tim closes her eyes and wonders if Jason and Bruce are the only ones with issues that can be summed up by the word 'family.' And then she makes a command decision not to wonder, and another to sleep.

The last thing she's aware of is the sound of Jason's quiet snore --

The first thing she's aware of is that she's naked on *top* of the covers, and Mrs. Mac would be absolutely --

She wakes up and keeps her eyes closed for a moment, not squeezing them shut in case Jason is awake enough to notice that she's not feeling -- that she's not --

Bruce. And they had -- they had both --

The feel of him *inside* her, moving and moving her --

Tim blushes and opens her eyes, and -- Jason's reaching for her. In his sleep. Or... he could've been reaching for Bruce. There's a good few inches between her arm and his fingertips, and there's no sign of Bruce.

Part of her, she realizes, had been expecting to see him sitting in one of the chairs and just *staring* at them on the bed. When she'd had the time to formulate that expectation is just one of the ways she remains a mystery to herself.

She leans in and kisses Jason's fingertips -- there's still a faint smell of disinfectant -- and then slips out of bed. There's no clock in Bruce's room and the curtains are closed, but her body has a fair idea of what time it is -- she's up early, which is... not entirely surprising. Strange bed, strange... man.

At some point, Bruce had placed their robes side by side over the back of one of the chairs, and Tim puts hers on. Sometimes, when she and Jason sleep -- 'sleep' -- late, there's a tray of small things waiting for them in the hall. Pre-breakfast snacks of the sort designed to get one moving and motivated to eat an actual meal.

She's not sure how she feels about the fact that there's no sign of anything like that in front of Bruce's door, but she's absolutely sure that she doesn't want to think about it too deeply. She has no *idea* how Alfred feels about -- this.

It would be awkward and terrible if he disapproved, and it would be several different kinds of worse if he *approved*. The best they can hope for is him pretending that nothing out of the ordinary is occurring, and -- yes, that would certainly fit with there being no tray in front of Bruce's door.

She'll just... go with that. Her room is...

Something in her relaxes, all over, when she walks into her bedroom and closes the door. She's alone except for Barbara's potential presence on the other side of those cameras.

Tim looks at the nearest one and smiles ruefully, trying to put everything into it she can think of, starting with how maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to be treated like -- a little girl. Except for how that wouldn't have entailed any of the things she'd *liked* about last night, from the sex itself to the opportunity to help steer the conversation to safer, more pleasurable topics.

She'd fallen asleep with one of Bruce's arms wrapped around her, tucked against his side just like they were lovers, instead of two -- rather damaged if one gave it *any* thought, at all -- people brought together because Jason Todd is just that compelling a presence in their lives.

She'd fallen asleep with Bruce's scent in her nose, and several distinct aches *caused* by Bruce in her body. On her body. She touches the new bite mark on her throat and lets the robe slip off.

There's a full-length mirror in this room -- she'd wondered, at first, if it was some kind of cruel joke -- and she looks at herself. Thin in the wrong places, yes, but once she tucks her penis between her legs and twists, lifts a hand to her chest --

She's covered in marks of appreciation offered by two beautiful, *good* men, and there's no way not to see them -- and certainly no way not to *feel* them. Her hair is ridiculous, but one of Bruce's gifts had been an entire line of salon-perfect styling products. He'd anticipated Barbara's suggestion, and maybe... maybe.

She touches her earlobes and thinks about the comfort of having Barbara always there with her... there *would* be teasing, and moments of extreme embarrassment -- Barbara wouldn't have it any other way -- but... Barbara. It would've been nice, when her parents were still alive, to have had Barbara there with her, whispering in her ear about things they could never know, reminding Tim that she had a *place* somewhere in the world where she didn't have to be anything but herself.

Where she *could* be Batgirl, stylish and bold, strong and true, vital to the good of the city, and maybe, eventually, to the larger world, as well.

She's going to *want* those studs in before she goes to New York to see Dick and the Titans, since she plans on either leaving Jason here or *making* him leave her alone to be with the others, get to know them in her own right...

Would it be cheating to give them *only* Batgirl? The Titans don't really work that way, even though it would be far more security-conscious if they did... well. It's something for her to deal with another time.

For now, there's herself in the mirror, eyes narrowed critically, one foot flat and the other up on her toes --

Suddenly, she realizes that Bruce had said nothing whatsoever about her lower body when he has offered critique on her form and abilities, which, from him... it's probably the best possible compliment. The Tim in the mirror blushes for that, and the hand she doesn't have up on her chest twitches into a fist --

Undoubtedly to keep from stroking the thighs she's spent so much time building, the calves which have never failed her, even in the most ridiculous pair of -- heels.

The Tim in the mirror doesn't shift her gaze to the very full and comfortingly closed closet, but she really doesn't have to. She knows what she *wants*, and never mind the way it had made her feel to find all of those clothes there, the way it had seemed she had walked into a very large and well-appointed *prison* -- albeit one with every possible convenience.

Even then, she had been almost positive that Bruce was trying to do something nice for her, something to give her the most uncomplicated sort of pleasure possible.

She *had* just taken that dress out of the disguise closet, and she'd been nothing but happy in it, nothing but -- beautiful.

And now... well, she can't help but know that there are things about her that Bruce finds attractive -- very attractive -- and there would, perhaps, not be quite so *many* dresses if one of those things wasn't her ability to... dress.

Helena had been there the first time Barbara had sent Tim undercover at a charity ball which, for reasons Tim was never sure of, neither Bruce nor Jason had attended. She'd been a visiting debutante, alone in the big city for the first time, with the sort of manners and bearing which were designed to make the other guests absolutely positive that they *had* met her before, at one time or another. She'd been quiet enough not to attract too much of the wrong sorts of attention, charming enough to always be able to get close to the people Barbara had wanted watched.

And when she was getting ready, Barbara straightening her seams and styling her long, black hair --

Well, Helena had started *out* against the whole thing, insisting that Barbara send *her*, despite the fact that Helena's undercover abilities weren't the best when she *wouldn't* be in a room full of the ignorant and overly idle.

Barbara had pointed out, mildly and quietly, that Helena would *not* have been able to control her anger and disgust, which had made Helena pitch something of a fit, vituperative and passionate -- and the end of which she had broken down in giggles and began looking over Tim's manicure. She'd been impressed that Tim had done it herself, and offered her own hands for it whenever Tim had the time --

("Maria, it's almost a shame you have to take all that off before you go home -- and I can't believe I just said that.")

She'd cupped the back of Tim's head -- gently so as not to muss the style -- and told her, in Italian, that she was beautiful, just beautiful, and would put everyone else at the party to shame.

Tim had blushed and stammered something in reply --

And Barbara had squeezed her hand until the stammer became something gracious and false.

Helena's expression had been wry, but she'd nodded and left them to raid the kitchen, and --

And.

Technically, there's no pressure here, no one she need either impress or fool. *Technically*, this would be just for fun, something to show her appreciation for what Bruce had done for her with something more -- better -- than words. She wants, very badly, for Bruce to know *exactly* how much she appreciates nearly everything about him. From his open heart and generosity to the fact that he understands so much about her. *Too* much for comfort, really, but --

Life isn't *about* comfort.

So. Shower first.

She lingers a little, using the soaps and creams Alfred had stocked her bathroom with for the first time, as opposed to the more masculine ones in Jason's. When she's done, she smells a bit like what she's always imagined a vanilla flower would be like. It's more time-consuming than she would've thought to shave her legs, and so she leaves her armpits alone, save for the unscented deodorant.

Part of her was expecting Jason to be awake and looking for her, maybe knocking on the door to the bathroom and leering his way inside, but there's no sign of him. It's still early.

She'll just have to stay beautiful for long enough that he can see her. He likes -- he likes that, perhaps a lot more than Bruce does.

The dress she picks is burgundy -- a color her mother had favored, and maybe, someday, would've approved of -- no.

It's a color that looks *good* on her, and there are several outfits in the same or nearly the same shade, which certainly suggests that it's one that *Bruce* approved of. There are matching garters for the stockings, which do, indeed, go on easily and more smoothly than they would if she hadn't shaved.

She feels a little... very with nothing but stockings and garters on, so she hurries through putting on her underwear -- simple black. The gaff could have easily been made to every last *one* of her measurements, and the falsies in the bra are as good as Batgirl's.

It's tempting, at this point, to look in the mirror, but... no. The dress goes on smoothly and clings enough that she understands why there's no hip-padding in the gaffs. Apparently, she's supposed to be a very *boyish* woman. It's also not a very long dress at *all*, and perhaps there would be flashes of garter as she walked... hmm. There's no cleavage showing -- the dress goes all the way up her throat in a kind of homage to certain Asian styles, and really --

Really --

This dress is hers, and no one else's, and wearing it feels a little like being... she thinks about it. It's *not* like being someone else. It's like being more of herself than she'd previously thought possible, like if she moves the wrong way her personal energy will cause the dress to tear, exposing *all* of her to the world.

As it is, she feels incredibly *present*, loud and demanding, and it's possible that blush would be overkill.

Still, she sits at the vanity and does her makeup in pretty much the usual way -- the usual way which *isn't* for Batgirl -- and when she's done, she puts a towel around her shoulders and spikes her hair.

Jason wants to dye it a dark red, and... would it go with this dress? Would it clash? She isn't sure. Right now, her hair makes her look like she'd *wanted* to look like a sea urchin... well. It has its own sort of style, though it would probably still look better if her hair were longer.

And... she's done, save for the shoes, which go on easily and have her preferred three and a half inch heels. Many of the shoes do.

It's *still* early, which is a mark in favor of her efficiency, but... she has to check. She goes back to Bruce's bedroom and peeks in the door. Jason's sprawled nearly diagonally across the bed and snoring lightly. His back is broad and perfect, marked here and there with scars she still doesn't know all the stories for. His legs are long. His ass is --

("Always want you to fuck me, baby --")

Tim swallows, and wonders just how well the dress does at concealing her Adam's apple.

Tim rests her hand against the door for a moment and then turns away. This is, technically, for Bruce. No matter how *accustomed* she's gotten to morning... escapades. And hijinks.

Tim smiles to herself and wonders where she should go for a moment -- but only a moment. It's not time for breakfast and Bruce is awake, ergo he's in the Cave. It is and isn't strange to walk through the manor like this, and she wonders about jewelry, if there's anything in particular Bruce would want her to wear, if Barbara would want her to have some of the earrings she'd had made for more formal occasions...

("The pleasure Ted takes in fashioning jewelry to my specifications is almost humbling, really. It almost makes me wish more of them were for *me*...")

*She* thinks there are other things Ted would like to do for Barbara with his hands, but -- so far -- Barbara has greeted her comments along those lines with a raised eyebrow and a deeply quelling look. Tomorrow is another day.

She opens the clock, steps in, and closes it behind her, and Bruce is working at the console. There's something odd about him, but she can't quite tell what it is -- the chair is too high for her to see his neck or shoulders to check for tension. Halfway down, she realizes that he isn't typing, and doesn't appear to be looking up at any of the screens, and -- she realizes that Bruce hears the *heels* and would have to wonder... would have to know. She walks a little more slowly and stops several feet from the chair.

"Bruce?" And Tim blushes because her voice sounds quiet and *small*, and she's really not *that* scared, or unsure. Just -- well. Bruce had *picked* this for her, and he has to know... he had to have known how wearing it would make her feel. Wouldn't he? He's not saying anything, and maybe --

"Tim."

"I..." Oh, just -- "I was wondering if you'd like to see... ah."

Bruce still doesn't turn around, and a part of Tim is thinking about... about how it felt to have Bruce *inside* her, how he'd been so careful at first and how it hadn't *mattered*, because he was just that big, just that -- and maybe he wants to be alone?

She swallows and takes a step back. "Or I could -- you're busy, I'm sorry --"

And Bruce is up and out of the chair *just* that fast, moving toward her -- he stops, just out of reach. He's wearing workout clothes and looking into her eyes, but she can *feel* him looking at her whole body, seeing her and knowing her --

Jason had held her *open* for him --

He's *looking*, and his eyes are just a little wild, sharp and almost heavy, like something Tim can touch --

Like something touching *her*, and part of her honestly regrets their -- attempt at -- cuddling, last night. It had put too much space between her and this feeling, this *intensity*, just -- so *quickly* --

Tim brings her hand to her throat, meaning to check just how high it goes, the way -- she'd glanced at herself in the mirror, of course, but hadn't really perfected -- there's never any way to *be* perfect, not for her, and --

"Tim," Bruce says again, and there's so much there, so much *in* it... it's a *question*, and a very specific one, at that. It makes her feel -- very, very young. Barbara has to be laughing at her. *Barbara* had had years to know what it felt like to be a sexual being around Bruce, the way it was a matter of constant exposure, constant bald *fact*, and --

Her body wants her to know that the gaff won't be comfortable for very long, but -- she's here for a reason. Isn't she? "I -- ah," she says, and turns in a small circle. "Is this... what you wanted?"

Bruce -- it's neither an exhale nor a sigh. It's *both* and it's neither, and his lips are parted --

"I mean. I -- was there a specific wig? Or --"

"No," Bruce says, and reaches out -- stops, and Tim isn't really -- she's walking *closer*, and she doesn't really *mean* to, but if there's something he wants to fix --

She knows there isn't anything he wants to fix. "Bruce, do you want..." Her lips are dry, and she's not going to lick them, or bite them -- the lipstick looks too *nice* for that --

"I want." Bruce makes that sharp not-sigh again and drops his hand to his side. "Perfect," he says, and stands straighter -- "Jason. Will enjoy seeing you like this," and the smile on his face is trying to be something soft and *neutral*, but it's failing -- utterly.

"I. I hope so," she says, and takes another step closer, and now she has to look up to see Bruce's face, those eyes -- "Do you enjoy it?"

Bruce's nostrils flare --

"Oh. You do. You..." This time Tim *does* bite her lip, because -- "I knew that you were attracted, that you enjoyed when we all --"

"Yes, Tim."

Tim pulls in a shaky breath. "It's still... something. To see you looking at me like... like that." Still huge and impossible, or perhaps she means incredible. Something about the nature of belief, and the fact that there are always layers to it. Belief and *understanding*, that is, a complicated emotional *pastry* that keeps getting sweeter, stranger and more affecting -- she's definitely babbling, but at least she's being *quiet* about it --

"I'm sorry," and Bruce turns *away* --

"Don't, please -- please," Tim says, and reaches out to touch Bruce's wrist with her fingertips, reflexively feeling for his pulse -- fast and heavy.

Bruce shivers -- looks down at her, and his eyes are even wilder now, almost *darker*, or -- it seems as though they *should* be, that blue isn't the right color for that much *heat*.

"Oh. Bruce --"

"*Tim*," he says, and it's a warning, a plea --

Her heart's beating too fast and she's getting *hard*, and she can't -- "Sometimes. Sometimes it seemed as though I could feel you wanting Jason, even when you weren't there. Like it was something -- tangible. Solid, and --" Tim trails her fingers over Bruce's knuckles. "Would you... tell me what you want?"

And for a moment Bruce looks almost *angry*, and it should easily be one of the more terrifying moments of her life, except that her penis is disagreeing vehemently.

"I -- I mean --"

"Would. Would you like me to show you."

And Tim feels herself opening her mouth, but she has no idea what to *say*, no sense of what would be appropriate --

*That* --

She laughs at herself --

And then Bruce is kissing her. She hadn't seen him move, hadn't even felt him as more than just that *want*, that *hunger* -- he kisses her the way Jason does, the way Robin does when Batgirl's been just that much of a tease. It's hard as a punishment, demanding and -- he's bending her *back* with it, and it's *almost* the way he was kissing her last night, but now there's more fervor to it, deeper *fever*. It's probably a *good* thing that she knows very well how to balance in heels for something like this, how to *take* it --

Except that when he pushes his tongue into her mouth, all she can do is moan and reach up to clutch at his shoulders, stroke and squeeze and *suck* -- "*Oh* --"

Bruce is *lifting* her against him like she weighs nothing, moving her the way he had last night, too fast and too perfect to parse individual movements. He's holding her up and kissing her again, kissing her jaw and her throat -- panting against her skin.

"Bruce, this -- I -- *ah* --"

Bruce's *tongue* against her throat, tasting her and tasting the *dress*, pressing against one of the marks Jason had left, licking and *pressing* --  should she have used concealer? Would that have make this -- what. She doesn't -- Jason, *Jason* --

"Oh, God, you should -- I --"

Bruce pulls back and looks at her, eyes wide and so *full* --

And Tim hears herself moaning and lunges in for another kiss, another -- Jason likes it so much when she *bites*, and Bruce seems to, as well. She's not *sure*, but it feels *good* to bite, good to show Bruce -- show him --

*What*? What is she trying to do? What is she trying to say, here, other than that she *wants*, that she *can* do this without Jason to hold her hand, that she's not --

An extremely *greedy* child, perhaps?

("You're *my* little girl --")

She shivers and bites his lip again, and this time she gets bitten right *back*, *hard*, and she cries out and shifts --

And realizes, once they start moving, that she'd wrapped her legs around his waist just like she wasn't -- *isn't* -- wearing the world's most perfect dress. She tries to move --

She *thinks* about moving, but Bruce is kissing her throat again and walking them -- *somewhere*, carrying her and -- oh, stroking her thigh almost restlessly through the stocking, up to the garter --

"Beautiful," Bruce whispers against her throat, *husks* there -- "Beautiful girl..."

Tim gasps and shivers, feels herself blushing, feels herself *moving*, because she wants those hands moving on her, *touching* her --

"It's all right. I won't. I won't take *advantage* --" 

"I want you to," Tim says, blurts before she can really *think* about what Bruce had said, wonder what it had *meant* -- it's something Batgirl would, perhaps, say to Batman in a crazier world, but there's nothing of Batgirl in her voice. It's too low, too desperate --

Bruce *growls* and pushes her -- sets her down until she's leaning against --

The pommel horse. Oh. Oh -- "Bruce --"

"Say it. Say it again, please. That you want --"

"I want you --"

"*Beautiful*," Bruce says, and kisses her mouth again, not as hard as the first time, but serious. He's holding her face still and thrusting into her mouth, and Tim thinks about sucking him, wonders what he would *taste* like without Jason's tongue... not in the *way*, but altering things, shifting the *definition* of the flavor --

And then his hands are moving on her, stroking her through the dress and over her skin, her shoulders and arms, down to her hips -- he lifts her again and sets her down, he --

He pushes the dress up over her hips and strokes her through the gaff, pushing his big hand between her legs, cupping her and --

Jason always wants, *Jason*, and she isn't -- he can't -- Bruce can't make her *be* this, yet -- "No, oh -- please," she says, brushing at his wrist --

Bruce grunts and pulls back, staring down at her and reaching around to her ass, cupping and squeezing her there until she nods, until she can feel herself flushing with want --

"You -- you've been. Inside me --"

"*Yes*," Bruce says, and he's showing his teeth a little and still squeezing her, moving his hands back around and up to cup her false breasts --

"Oh, Bruce -- Bruce, I want -- you can do --"

"*Don't* say 'anything,'" and the next thing she knows she's facing the pommel horse, turned around and *bent* --

"I'm sorry, I -- I'm so sorry, Bruce, I'm trying, you feel --"

Bruce groans and squeezes her hips. "Try. Try to be easy."

Easy -- that. Tim laughs, blushing at how *breathless* it is. "I'm not sure I could get much easier -- *oh* --

*Bite* to the back of her neck, hard and somehow *solid*, less a sensation than a *wall* of sensation, something to push back against --

"Or -- I suppose I could *not* make that sort of joke --"

Bruce hums and releases her, and Tim firms her grip on the pommel horse to keep from just *slumping* against it, because Bruce is stroking the backs of her thighs, squeezing a little and stroking up between --

And it feels like the gaff is protecting her, feels like -- she doesn't know. She's spent so *long* barely thinking about her actual genitals, or about anyone's save for Jason's --

She knows Bruce wants to touch her there, make her harder, more obvious, *less* --

And maybe it *is* protection, because Tim feels herself tensing, hears herself gasping again at the feel of Bruce pushing his fingers into the waistband of the gaff --

"Tim..."

Her eyes are closed -- squeezed shut. Bruce can't *see* that, but... of course he can feel it. Of course. She opens her eyes and looks back over her shoulder. "It's -- okay. I want you to --"

"You wish to be touched in very specific ways. I... I'm afraid I'm not as good at this as Jason --"

"Oh -- I." Of course Jason is good at this, at knowing her and feeling her. Jason *always* knows, because Jason doesn't love without knowledge, or -- she doesn't know, exactly. Jason has been something like her personal *miracle*, and questioning those has never seemed like a very good idea. She licks her lips. "I don't expect you to --" Tim shakes her head. "The fact that I have... issues about my genitals is no reason to... stop?" Tim laughs at herself again. "I'm sorry, maybe we --"

Shouldn't, she was going to say, but Bruce presses his thumb to the back-seam of the entirely clever little panties and strokes *down* --

"Or we could. Ah. Bruce, your *hands*, I --"

"You're very generous, Tim. Giving, and --" Bruce hums again and pushes the dress up further, kisses her spine just above the panties, licks her there, over and over --

Kisses more and scrapes his teeth, pushes the dress up even further and cups her hips, holds them *still* --

"So many gifts," Bruce says, and there's more that Tim can say, more that she could *think*, but --

She turns around again and lets her head hang between her arms. "Bruce, just -- what you want. I want to know what you *want*, I want to know *you* --"

"Another... taste," he says, and pushes his fingers into the gaff again -- "Let me show you."

Jason and his hands, his eyes, the way he pleads and demands, the way he pushes when he forgets to be careful and focuses on being the most perfect, the most beautiful, the most --

Dangerous. Bruce is *dangerous*, and it seems ridiculous to only be noticing that now, to only be feeling it now that she's bent and ready, bent and *willing* --

She hears herself make a sound that doesn't make any sense, that misses language *entirely* --

"Please, Tim. I -- I won't ask you to give me what you give to Jason, I know that's something I can't *have* --"

"*Do* it," Batgirl says, and Tim opens her eyes again to see her fingers curling in against the horse, see herself starting to *claw* at it --

And the gaff is around her ankles. She's bare and... and *swinging*, and if he touches her there she'll scream and fight, beg and *plead* --

He spreads her, instead, and this time the sound she makes is almost a growl, the sort of thing Jason has learned -- so very well -- to *try* for, *push* for until she's practically snarling and *biting* --

Bruce presses his thumb against her hole. Presses -- not in. Not. She's still sore, but she wants to *hurt*, wants to feel him again --

"Your. Your heat, I want -- touch me. Fuck me --"

"*Let* me," he says, and he's moving behind her, holding her open and spread, and --

She knows what he wants. What he's going to do. She *knows* he will, and so she has to prepare for it, try to get herself to the point where she can *take* it--

Bruce's tongue makes a mockery of all of that. It's too wet, too slick and -- every possible definition of *insinuating*, as if there *is* no way to keep this from happening, as if every possible defense is worthless against the slow push, slick *slide* --

She's growling again, pushing up on her toes -- she can *kick* him, like this, his hands are *occupied* --

He *moans* against her, into her --

He thrusts *as* he moans, and she has one leg up and no idea what to *do* with it. This feel, this -- and she has to wonder if it's something about *her* that makes both Jason and Bruce want this, if it's an assumption that this act will be comfortable for her, will be all *right* --

Going down on her in something like the right way, *taking* her the way a woman -- a real woman --

She can't hold on to the thought. It's too -- he's *fucking* her with his tongue just like Jason, just --

She's getting harder, and pressing against the horse won't do her any good, *nothing* will -- "*Ah* --"

Bruce pulls out and he's saying -- something. Whispering against her hole as if it could *answer* him in some way other than the ludicrous or deeply unfortunate --

She laughs again -- "*Bruce*, I -- I could *question* your taste --"

"But you shouldn't," he says, dark and low, dark and almost *sweet*, just --

"Dangerous. You're --"

"I wish," he says, "I could be something other."

"I --" Tim pants, tries to -- when had she kicked off her other shoe? "That's not what I -- oh, *God* --"

Inside again, and her knees want to give out on her, her -- she's shaking and moving, twisting --

He's holding her not quite still *enough*, following her as she moves, stabbing her with his tongue and making her feel --

Making her --

She knows she's being loud, she can *hear* herself, but it's nothing compared to the wet sounds, so -- so *dirty*, and she wants to get away --

She *wants* to want to get away, to be enough, *have* enough to say no to this thing, this -- just. For *once* she should have enough control to fight this, to be able to tell Jason, tell *them* exactly what she thinks of their habit of licking her *ass*.

That's just -- worship should only go so -- so fucking *far*, no matter how good this feels, no matter what it makes her *do*. It's so --

So *deep*, and it doesn't hurt enough, doesn't give her enough room to *think*. He's holding her open so wide, pressing his face against her, his lips against her --

*Kissing* her this way, and at some point she'd collapsed onto her elbows -- there's a faint sting there that tells her she hadn't done it with anything like finesse -- and every time she tries to get her balance Bruce makes another sound, a hum or a moan --

A growl that makes her shake more, makes her wish Jason was there to touch her, *ground* her -- push until she'll do anything to come, *take* anything, and there's that traitorous whisper in the back of her mind, that nagging voice telling her what would feel even better.

What she could do --

What *Bruce* could do for her, how he could touch her, make her *feel* this --

"*Bruce* --"

And it only makes him fuck her faster, hold her hips *tighter* -- but not as tight as Jason does it. This won't give her any new bruises, any touchstones to make her sure it's real, make --

No, she won't be able to forget this. Not -- not any of it, because Bruce lets go and starts to stroke her, her thighs and between --

So careful, so -- he's not touching her sac at *all*, and she should be grateful, she can *feel* the part of her which *would* be grateful, but --

"*Please*, Bruce, please touch me -- oh, no, oh *fuck* --"

"I got you, baby --"

*Jason*, and Tim whips her head around -- he's right there next to her, wearing just a robe and staring into her eyes with his lips parted -- "J-Jay -- oh, *oh* --"

Bruce -- faster, almost harder, somehow, and he's holding her hips again, holding her *still* again -- and Jason has his hand wrapped around her penis so *gently* --

"You have no *idea* how good you look right now, Tim. You're -- god, that dress. Those *stockings*. Your flush, and you're sweating a little, and you're so far gone you *need* this," and Jason squeezes --

Tim's knees buckle --

Jason catches her around the waist -- and grips her with his *other* hand -- "Tell me to stroke. Tell me you *want* it --"

Tim makes another *noise*, and she thinks she sounds like an *animal*, but she has to --

"C'mon, let me make you come. Bruce -- Bruce looks like he could do you that way for *years* --"

"*Please*, Jay, don't -- I don't --" She growls again and *twists* -- can't move, Bruce is holding on too tightly --

She growls *again* and pushes up onto her hands, her toes, punches the pommel horse --

"So fucking *sexy*, and -- I know you want me to just *take*, but --"

"Fuck, *do* it, Jay --"

And Jason grunts and squeezes her hard, Bruce *shoves* his tongue in and holds it there, and there's a moment when she can't feel anything but *everything*, when she can't make a sound --

She's throwing her head back --

"I'm gonna fuck you *so* hard after this --"

"*Jay* --"

"Yeah. *Come*," he says, and starts stroking her fast and hard, almost -- almost *hurting*, but she's so close, it's so good, so --

And Bruce starts thrusting again, Bruce *moans* and there's saliva in her cleft, running down her thighs --

Jason is *driving* her, Jason wants her to come, Bruce wants --

Tim shouts and doesn't come, doesn't --

So *good* and she shouts again, tosses her head and kicks, connects with Bruce --

He *grunts* into her and squeezes harder --

So --

"C'mon, baby, let me *see* --"

And she doesn't know if it's a sound or just air -- and then she's rigid, held by something stronger and more vicious than Bruce or Jason could ever *be*, coming and spasming, jerking in Jason's grip --

Bruce's grip -- Bruce's *tongue* --

"Oh, *yeah*, that's so fucking *hot* --"

And Jason's kissing her cheek, squeezing her *rhythmically*, and there's more coming, just -- she can't --

This time she knows she's screaming, and it's not *better* when Jason lets go, because Bruce is still kissing her, groaning and *kissing* her --

"Ease it back, B --"

Bruce pulls back and Tim -- doesn't collapse again. She's holding herself on her toes, digging her nails into the pommel horse --

Jason nuzzles her cheek until Tim turns and kisses him, and she can see Bruce moving out of the corner of her eye, standing up and moving *away* --

"No," she says, turning and nearly tripping herself on the panties --

"Hey, what -- oh, Jesus, Bruce, don't go *now* --"

"I." Bruce frowns and reaches out -- cups Tim's hip so she can step out of the panties on her shaking legs.

"Thank you," Tim says, kicking off the other heel and covering Bruce's hand. He's looking at her steadily, almost certainly reading everything on her face. It makes Tim want to look for a handy shadow, or at least her wonderful new cowl, but -- that wouldn't be especially helpful. She takes a deep breath and squeezes Bruce's hand. "That was... in case you were wondering, I really was... ah. Asking you to touch my. Penis."

"And I really could start feeling incredibly jealous about that, but I'm of the *firm* belief that every little bit -- heh. Helps," Jason says, and slips behind her to pull the dress back down, brush Tim's and Bruce's hands aside so he can smooth it over her hips. "Damn, it's perfect on her, B. Did you seriously eyeball her measurements?"

Bruce blinks once -- nods. "I've had many opportunities to watch the way Tim moves, the length of her reach, I. I had hoped that she would give me the opportunity to see her this way, again, but I didn't think it would be so soon."

Meaning... he'd known that she'd be conflicted about the gift? In retrospect... he almost certainly *had*. Tim reaches for Bruce's hand again and curls her own against the palm. "Thank you."

Bruce's eyes widen slightly -- he nods again. "I. I don't know whether I should apologize for my... for what I just did, or to whom I should apologize," he says, and looks at Jason.

Tim looks, too, and Jason's smiling wryly and pushing a hand back through his hair. "My fault for sleeping in?"

And there's a plea in his voice, a request to take the answer at face value, but... there's more there. Tim rests her hand on his chest, nudging the robe aside until she can feel skin. "Jay...?"

He reaches up to cover her hand. "Really?"

Tim nods, and she can see Bruce doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay. My *first* thought when I saw you two, when I *heard* the sounds Tim was making... I felt a little betrayed."

Tim winces --

"Jay, I'm --"

"No, no -- I *started* this, or -- well, we *all* started this, and that means we all have to *deal* with it. And if I'd seen Tim in that dress first, I would've jumped her *just* as fast as you apparently did, and -- fuck, baby, you smell *fantastic*. Like sex and *dessert*."

Whiplash, to a certain extent. "I -- ah. Bruce also picked some bathing items for me --"

"Alfred," Bruce says, "had a number of suggestions. I confess that I chose the ones which seemed most suited to your natural scent."

"Which means you were totally *sniffing my girl* when you should've been training her," Jason says, grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, okay, I can't blame you."

"I..." Tim curls her fingers in against Jason's chest, a little --

"I'm okay. I'd *prefer* it if you hooked up with Bruce where I could *watch* you, but I'm betting B would say the same thing about *us* hooking up, and -- I don't know. I always want to be with you, baby. *Especially* when you're making love. But, you know... sometimes I'm *just* gonna want to watch."

And Tim blushes and thinks about how *fast* Bruce had gotten her to the point where she *needed*, how little *control* -- "Ah. And you? With Bruce?"

Bruce squeezes her hand lightly. Reassurance, yes, but -- for whom?

Jason raises both eyebrows. "I -- uh. Haven't really thought about it, but..." He looks at Bruce and smiles again, crooked and a little small. "A lot of things are easier with Tim right there for me."

Bruce nods and lets go of Tim's hand --

"Bruce," Tim says, and reaches again --

"I never allowed the two of you to have time alone last night --"

"How *was* that for you, B? Was it what you wanted?"

Bruce stills, all over -- and then moves, *fast* -- he's cupping Tim's shoulder and Jason's, too.

"That's -- *kind* of an answer," Jason says, and reaches up to cover Bruce's hand. "Seriously, how long were you able to sleep? You *did* sleep, right?"

Bruce's mouth kind of -- quirks. "I rested better than I have in a very long time. I don't know what I can do to thank you both for -- for that."

Jason smiles, and it feels like it matches her own. Tim shifts her shoulder under Bruce's hand. "That's really very good. I... perhaps we could do it again, sometime?"

"Yeah, 'cause... I slept about as well as I do when it's *just* Tim, and your bed *is* fucking huge."

Bruce narrows his eyes and strokes their shoulders, tenses up *hard* -- and relaxes. "Thank you. I won't -- I'll try not to take advantage of your... of this."

Take advantage. That -- "Bruce, about that -- when you said you wouldn't take advantage of me, what exactly did you *mean*?"

Jason snorts. "He said that? What, seconds before yanking down your torture panties and shoving his tongue up your ass?"

Tim lets her smile get a little wider. "One can't help wondering what, exactly, he didn't plan to *do*... considering."

And Bruce actually colors, a little bit --

"Whoa."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Bruce...?"

He squeezes her shoulder and lets go, strokes her face, her cheek -- "I. It seemed deeply important to *say*, Tim, but..."

"Meaning that you were *just* saying it, paying a little lip service, because what you *actually* wanted to do everything she'd *let* you --"

"And other things, as well," Bruce says, and drops his hands. "Jason. I'd like to watch you..." He turns to Tim. "I'd like to watch both of you."

Jason smiles and cups the back of Tim's neck. "Or should I..."

And having been able to see it coming does nothing against the feel of Jason sliding his hand to the front of her neck, cupping her throat and squeezing -- "You really should. Ah. Both of you. Eventually, that's going to stop *working*."

"And so it should be used *sparingly*, yeah, I get you, baby. What about the rest of you? How should *that* be used?"

Hard. Very, very hard. And there's a part of her mind which is saying deeply practical things about breakfast and training, it's just that it's a very small part, and it can't do anything against --

"Fuck, I love that *dress*," Jason says, stroking down from Tim's throat over her chest, cupping Tim's breasts --

Bruce makes a small sound --

"Yeah, I know they aren't *real*, but the way Tim wears them..." Jason grins at her. "How sore *are* you?"

"Well," Tim says, and does a very good job -- if she does say so herself -- of thinking about it on a practical level, as opposed to on all those levels which have far more to do with the many different ways she can be made to scream down the Cave. The *fact* is -- she probably shouldn't get fucked.

She hadn't bled, at all, but her ass wants her to know that she'd had something rather bigger in there than what had become usual. It's insistent on the matter, if not precisely strident, and --

She sighs. "Probably you shouldn't bend me over this pommel horse and fuck me very, very hard."

Jason sighs and nods -- and crowds her until she backs up against the horse and looks up at him.

"Yes, Jason?"

"One very? Half a very? See, I can't help thinking about how slick you have to be feeling after that rim job. And I *did* make you a promise."

"You are very, very good about keeping your promises," Tim says, and wraps her arms around Jason's neck.

"Mmm. Look at you. Feel like I should be dragging you into a coatroom and doin' you on some rich fuck's mink."

"Do you ever think about the fact that you *are* a rich fuck, Jay...?"

"It's all in how you swing it, baby," Jason says, and -- shrugs. Just enough that his penis slips out from between the folds of the robe and stands up hard and a different sort of insistent, entirely. "And you *know* how I swing."

Tim takes a good, long look... and then looks over Jason's shoulder.

Bruce is standing there watching both of them, hands curled into fists. Not *tight* fists, but the potential is very much there.

"Hmm?" Jason looks back. "Why don't you give me a few more minutes with my girl, B? *Then* you can -- heh. Lend a hand."

And Tim *feels* that, like two fingers stroking up her spine before the hand settles on the back of her neck. Just --

Jason cups her hips and -- doesn't pull her close.

She pushes, a little --

"Nuh-uh. I am *not* getting come stains on that dress. I'm *pretty* sure that's not what Bruce bought it for."

Another small sound from Bruce --

Jason laughs. "Yeah, I know, you'll buy her another. But *I* like *this* one. Even though Tim didn't let me see her put it on. Or shave her *legs* -- and of *course* you bought her shave cream and a razor. Can't be *unprepared*."

"To be fair, it was a rather interesting experience *to* shave my legs," Tim says, and smiles. "It made me feel a little like -- Robin."

"Hey, I *never* shaved *my* legs. That was *Dick's* freaky little kink."

"He was rather... he told me, more than once, that it cut his wind resistance in flight," Bruce says, and when Tim looks, there's a smile in his eyes that looks almost *paternal*. Which, considering the fact that he's *extremely* erect in those shorts...

Don't think about it? Schedule another therapy session with Barbara? Don't think about it *vigorously*?

"*Dick* -- was clearly warped by growing up in a circus, and, oh, yeah, with *you*, B," and Jason strokes Tim's hips... strokes down and hikes up the dress again --

"Didn't you just fix that, Jason?"

"Uh, huh. And now I'm messing it *up*, because I really fucking need to snap your garters, baby -- there."

Tim smiles. "All better?"

"Gettin' there," Jason says, and strokes up her thighs. "Bruce was feelin' you up pretty good, there. Like those big hands on you?"

Batgirl wants to ask him what *he* thinks. Tim is feeling -- slightly -- more cautious. "I'm beginning to wonder if all of Bruce's touches will feel... possessive."

"He's a greedy, greedy man, baby. A *hungry* man, and you look -- and smell -- like a pretty good meal."

"Maybe you should take a bite."

Jason smiles a little wider and brings one hand up to tilt her head up and to the side.

That part of her throat has already been well *considered* -- Jason bites her earlobe, holding it between his teeth and *pulling* -- "You've been thinking about the ear piercing."

Jason lets go and *licks* her ear. "The *more* I think about it, the more fucking *intimate* it gets in my head. Bruce would be -- heh -- *penetrating* you. And this time -- there'd be blood."

A part of her wants to protest -- something. Possibly the *glitter* in Jason's eyes. The rest of her... "It could... hurt."

"You could *take* the pain."

Tim pushes her fingers into Jason's hair and tugs. "Would you like that? Watching me... take it?"

"Watching you *love* it," Jason says, and his smile is very, very *wet*. Her body is telling her things about how it doesn't matter that she'd just come. Her mind is telling her that *both* Bruce and Jason -- haven't.

It's the sort of internal accord she's come to treasure, in all honesty. "I want to feel your -- dick."

Bruce breathes audibly, perhaps for the slang --

Jason's eyes get wide and then narrow again. "Yeah, baby? *How* do you wanna feel my dick?"

"On me," she says, and Jason rolls his hips forward -- grunts and *stops*, approximately two millimeters from staining her dress --

"What *else*?"

"*In* me, Jay. You should make it clear to me *exactly* how raw I am from last night. It seems -- an important lesson."

Jason licks his lips. "Not to play with the big boys...?"

"*Always* to play with the -- big -- boys," she says, tugging Jason's hair again before moving her arms from around her neck and turning around --

"So what if I want to bend you in half, baby?

"So what if I don't *care*...?"

"Aw, *yeah*, BG," and Jason cups her ass, bare with the hem of the dress just brushing the upper curve --

Tim hums and pushes up onto her toes, kicks back just to make Jason jump a little and then strokes his calf with her toes.

"Bruce got you kinda *frisky*, hunh, baby?"

"Funny how that works," she says, and grinds her hips in a circle --

Jason moans and *slaps* her ass, and --

It's too *surprising* to make a noise, but she's down on her feet again and panting. Just --

"See, I don't know if you were *watching* that, B, but -- she's had this fantasy."

"I... see."

"Meaning that you *weren't* watching, and you're maybe wondering which of us is crazy?"

"I. It seems... disrespectful," Bruce says, and Tim can *feel* him moving, or --

Maybe it's the shift of the shadows under the fluorescents, something reasonable and sane that has nothing to do with the sting in her -- cheek. She digs her fingers in against the horse to keep herself from reaching back to touch herself, *protect* herself, or --

Does she really *want* to be protected?

How much does Jason -- does he need this? Is it *because* she was with Bruce, and -- hand on her. Big enough to be -- that's *Bruce's* hand, and Jason sighs and strokes her *around* it, over her hip and up onto her back.

Jason -- she's almost sure it's Jason -- strokes the spot at the base of her spine where Bruce had licked her, over and over -- "You touched her here --"

"Yes," Bruce says, and squeezes her. His hand covers the spot Jason had spanked *completely*, and -- is he intrigued? Does she *want* to give Bruce *this*?

"Jay, I -- ah."

"Yes? No? Not now?" He cups her other cheek and squeezes. "How bad a girl have you *been*?"

Tim blushes hard, because -- that's exactly how she had *put* it, before, and really --

Really.

What does she *want*? If she listens to her penis, the answer is several different varieties of more. If she listens to her fear, the answer is -- somewhere not in this *zip code*. If she listens to her *brain*, which is clearly still somewhere inside her skull --

"Tim," Bruce says, and it's heavy and deep, questioning --

Tim breathes and -- she'd stopped, at some point. She breathes, and just focuses on that for a little while, ignoring the wave of feeling, the *lift* in her penis --

"Please," and Bruce strokes her with *just* his thumb, shifts his hand until that thumb is brushing the stinging place --

"I -- please what, exactly?"

"I think he wants to know how you really feel about getting spanked right now, baby, 'cause..." Jason's voice is low and kind of *thick*, sex-focused -- "You're sending a couple different messages, right now."

Of course she is. Hard and getting harder, tense to the point of *pain* -- at least in that old muscle tear in her back, and her brain says... what? What would be the consequences of allowing this, other than to turn both Bruce and Tim on? What would it say about *her* --

"If it -- uh." Jason squeezes her again. "I don't know if it would make a difference, right now, but -- that's just it. It's *now*, and not any other time. Maybe this can be... just a thing we tried, once, and never had to do again."

"Like having sex with Bruce?" And that had come out much too fast, much too uncontrolled -- she can *feel* Jason wincing. "I'm sorry --"

"*Don't* apologize," Bruce says. "You... you enjoy sexualized pain. There is, perhaps, some part of you which *wants* to be punished --"

"Fuck, don't profile her *now*, B --"

"No -- it's. It's all right. I'm having a little trouble *thinking*, at the moment, and that could... help," Tim says, and reaches back to grip Jason's thigh.

"Well... if you're sure, baby. But B, if you break her brain too much to let us have sex, I'm gonna be *pissed*."

Tim snorts and scratches his thigh --

"Noted," Bruce says, and presses hard with his thumb. "You'd like to be able to throw yourself into sexuality entirely and with abandon, but you are -- occasionally -- hampered by the emotional conservatism you've trained yourself to have."

Emotional conservatism... interesting. She wouldn't have put it that way, but there is something to it. She thinks of her mother -- she stops and nods. "Go on."

"This feels like a step you have yet to take. It's an admission of desire for something that, perhaps, *Batgirl* would never want. As such, it makes you feel both naked and unsure. Dangerously... obvious."

Tim closes her eyes and -- smiles. "You understand feelings like that very well."

"Yes," Bruce says, and his voice has become rough again, some degree of *fervent* -- "Would you like... more."

"Just for the record here," Jason says, and drags Tim's hand up to his groin. He's hot and *very* hard, perhaps as much as Bruce.

And she really is just *bent* over this pommel horse, asking for -- very much, if not necessarily *everything*. Asking for it and *denying* it, at once --

She hears Bruce's breathing hitch, again, and he moves his hand off her ass -- and starts stroking her arm. Harder when she squeezes Jason's sac --

"Oh, *fuck* yeah, Tim. B hasn't felt *you* do that, yet. Hasn't felt your *mouth* --"

"My mouth isn't what's at -- issue, here, at the moment," Tim says, and, "Go on, Bruce..."

"You worry that the more obvious you become about your wants and needs, the more Jason will feel disgusted by you, that he'll become bored and find you off-putting --"

"Oh, man, baby, not *that* --"

"*Yes* -- that," Tim says, and shakes her head. "There's so much --"

"There are no limits you can find for this," and Bruce squeezes Tim's forearm once and moves back to stroking her ass. "There is nothing you wouldn't do for Jason, wouldn't *take* from him --"

"There's nothing you can't *have*, Tim --"

"Oh, I." Tim takes a deep breath -- *tries* to take a deep breath. She's hard again, and her penis is actually *saying* something about it being much too soon, or --

Possibly that's just the generalized ache of *this* arousal, the thing that will make her crazy *this* time, make her scrabble and need --

"Please," she says, and her hand is shaking on Jason's sac --

Someone leans in and breathes against the base of her spine, and someone else squeezes her ass again, or maybe it's the same person both times -- no, that's Bruce squeezing her ass and breathing like the arousal is *choking* him, because --

"God, I can *just* fucking taste his mouth here, baby. I -- did it drive you a little crazy when he was licking you here? Was it a tease?"

"*Yes*," and -- "I. I want. Bruce, is there *more* --"

"You're worried that if you allow this, it will fundamentally alter the way Jason sees you. A part of you is afraid that he will become callous, or... lose respect for you, in some way. It's almost impossible to understand. He loves you so very much, needs you in every way he can have you --"

"Fuck, yes, baby, and I -- I can feel you *wanting* this, and it's scaring me a little how much, but only because I want it, too, want to feel this the way you do, fucking -- fucking *live* in you --"

"I. I do want this. I'm scared and I --"

"We've *got* you," Jason says, and licks up her spine a little way, moans and scrapes his teeth --

Tim pushes up onto her toes again--

Jason moans again --

Bruce squeezes her ass *hard* -- "I would never deny you, Tim. I want to see you take your pleasure, want to *understand* --"

Tim laughs -- "You already *do* --"

"Not fully. Not. Would you like to be in Jason's lap? Would you ever want to be in my own?"

Bruce's hands -- Bruce's thighs under her as she twists, *writhes*. Bruce holding her *still* -- Tim feels herself blushing and bites her lip. The moan comes out, anyway, and Jason -- it has to be Jason -- pushes a thumb into her cleft and strokes *down*, fast and hard --

The noise she makes is high and she's shaking, warm all over, and -- how does her makeup look? How does --

"Beautiful," Bruce says, "so --" He lets go of her and the shadows say that he steps back, and now a part of her is cold. She wants --

How *could* she want both of them? How did that work when it was Barbara and Dick was Robin? She'd made it all sound so natural, something with the potential of being *controlled*. Perhaps it was the light in her, the thing that Tim has always been able to see, and has always needed to be *close* to.

Perhaps there's a correspondent darkness in *her*, something that calls to similar things in Bruce and in Jason, something that of *course* would lead to her being right here -- bent over and spreading her legs while Jason cups her hips and breathes on the wetness he's left on her back --

While Jason lines himself up behind her --

Spreads her and slips his erection into her cleft, thrusts and rubs against her while she moans and bangs her fist on the horse, and Bruce --

Is Bruce only watching right now? Is he -- shadows, and Tim looks up in time to see Bruce in *front* of her, reaching down -- He grabs her wrists and squeezes them, holds them against the horse and looks down into her eyes, and.

And.

"Bruce," she says. "I -- Jay. He's teasing me, and I. I don't know --"

Bruce nods and strokes the insides of her wrists with his thumbs, and Jason just keeps *thrusting*, every push sliding the shaft of his penis against her hole, making her need and just -- *burn*.

She can *feel* him inside her, how it could hurt to the point of screaming and still be wonderful, still give her what she *needs*. Some of what she needs, and that --

Really --

She wonders what her laughter sounds like to Bruce and Jason right now, if it's confusing or another tease, if they like it -- Bruce is squeezing her wrists and Jason is squeezing her hips, and. She can still move.

She rolls her hips back against Jason, away from him and in tight little circles that make her back pop in the best possible ways, make Jason moan and *freeze* a little --

"Jesus, baby. Jesus fucking -- *do* you want it? My hand?"

"I --"

"*Bruce's* hand? It could be -- uh. The big, bad, Bat taking you to *task* for something you did wrong -- fuck, you never do *anything* wrong --"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to feel it, want to know that you can do this -- for me --"

"Anything, baby, anything at *all*, you know that, you *have* to know that," and Jason's thrusting harder, Jason grunts and shudders and pulls *back* -- "*Let* me."

And her penis knows what those words mean, what that *tone* means. She's twitching and *leaking*, and she can't move her wrists, at all -- she's not trying. She looks up and Bruce is staring down at her, lips parted and gaze so *hot*. She's starting to sweat in her *dress* --

And Jason is stroking the backs of her thighs, again, restless and so *good*. Better when he tugs on the garters and moans, better than that when Bruce strokes the insides of her wrists again. She wants --

She *wants*, and maybe, right now, that's the most important thing. Tim closes her eyes. "Please --"

"Please *what*, baby --"

"Do it. Spank me --"

And Jason groans --

And the first slap is still a shock. It's not all that hard, but it's *itself*, marking her as someone who could want *just* this, who could --

It was never something she could *simulate*, not without making herself too embarrassed to stay hard, not without *noise*. And this --

The second slap makes her pant, makes her -- she was *going* to grunt, but she'd been able to stop it in her throat, and Bruce *squeezes* her wrists -- eases his grip and strokes her again --

This is something she'd only been able to imagine. Just -- one of the times when she'd let Jason manhandle her, let Robin *move* her the way he should always be able to, and it would be so close to --

Another slap and she *does* grunt, closes her eyes --

"Tim."

She opens them and Bruce is right there, upper lip wet like maybe he'd licked it, healing cut at the corner of his mouth -- she'd made him bleed last night, or Jason had -- both of them had, and that's not -- they should be more --

Another *slap*, and the words fall out of her mind, because that was *hard*, that *hurt* --

"Too much, baby?"

Jason sounds almost *winded*, voice low and *rough* -- "You're hard --"

"*Fuck*, yeah, I am. You should see -- maybe you'll spank *me* sometime. Make my ass all red, all -- you're *shaking*, baby," and now he sounds like it *hurts*, like it hurts *him* --

"Not. Not too much. I --"

"I love you so *much*, Tim, you don't know -- I hate it that you don't *know* --"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm --"

Another *slap*, and Tim feels herself flushing all *over*, feels -- Bruce squeezes her wrists hard, and if she doesn't look *up*, she can see exactly how erect he is. Pitching a *tent* as Jason would say, and there's a wet spot on his shorts, dark enough to only be a shadow, if the light were falling that way. It's *not*, and --

Tim moans and Bruce *twitches*, moans low and brief --

"Jesus, yeah, I -- you just tell me when to *stop*, baby --"

Tim nods and bites her lip -- and *shouts*, because there's no pause between slaps now, no time to get her -- her *bearings*.

Just -- *this*, and she'd wanted to be in her bed for it, or over Jason's bike, she'd wanted it to be dark enough to hide everything from everyone except for Jason, maybe even hide from herself --

The fantasy had always made her *ache* inside, because wasn't the spanking just another tease? Another way for her *not* to get fucked? Except that it isn't, now. It's --

It's all *different*, because Bruce is right there, Batman is watching and *learning* this about her, putting it in his file of things to *know* about her, right up there with the way she screams for him, the way she begs and curses when she can't do anything else --

Her ass feels *hot*, stinging and just -- stimulated, all over. She remembers the sick arousal that comes from taking the perfect punch, the perfect ache of being shoved against a wall with one of Jason's thighs between her own, the terror and frustration of being pinned to the mats with Bruce over her, looming over her and *taking* --

Squeezing her wrists and -- oh, pushing his *hips* forward, just enough that Tim can smell him. Clean male and arousal, strong and some variety of pure --

Jason just keeps *spanking* her and --

She can say no. She can still say *no*, but she doesn't want to, doesn't -- Jason's moaning a little every time a slap lands, every time Tim pushes up onto her toes --

She's grinding her hips again, trying to take *more*. She's --

"*Please* --!"

"Anything you want, anything you *need*, baby, just tell me, just -- fucking *show* me --"

That. *That* --

And she wonders what it does to them that she's laughing again, that she's spreading her legs and pushing right up onto her toes, as high as she can *go* -- Jason stops.

"Oh -- Jesus. Jesus. Tim?"

"Tim... are you." Bruce swallows with an audible click. "Are you *sure*."

And *that*... oh -- yes. Oh, *yes*. She twists her wrists in Bruce's grip until he lets go and she can push up onto her hands and toss her hair --

And Jason moans like *he's* the one bent over a pommel horse. Tim grins and looks back over her shoulder. "Scared, Robin?"

"Mother*fuck*, you're kinky --"

And the first slaps land on her inner thighs, but once she growls --

"*Ah*, *yes*," and Bruce's hands are on her shoulders, and her sac is swinging, and --

Again --

*Again* --

Bruce cups the back of her head and tilts her head up, kisses her *hard*, and she tastes -- she *tastes*, and she's laughing into Bruce's mouth, writhing and *twisting* --

"Fuck, baby, *fuck* --"

And Jason doesn't stop, Jason reaches between her legs and grabs her penis *hard*, Jason lets go --

Tim groans into Bruce's mouth and gets her lip bitten, laughs again and gets her tongue *sucked*, and the pull makes her ache, makes her hotter and needier, and she can smell herself now, sweat under the sweetness, salt and *hunger* --

And the next time Jason slaps her sac, she *shouts* into Bruce's mouth --

"I can't. I really -- oh God, Tim --"

Her ass again, hot and almost *itching* with pain. Her skin has to be reddened now, warm to the touch as Jason spanks and *spanks* --

She wrenches away from Bruce -- "You know what I *want* -- *mm* --"

Another kiss, and Bruce *needs* this, wants this -- wants her mouth and maybe her ass, again, maybe --

This is making all of them --

Oh, it *hurts*, and Tim gasps and sobs, *takes* it for her own, and she'd never fantasized this, she'd never been able to imagine it, never --

Jason grabs her penis *again*, strokes her once, twice --

"*Jay* --"

"Need you hard, baby, need you -- need you so *much*," but he lets go again, slaps her sac and then both of her inner thighs at once, grabs her hips and pulls her *back*, strokes her body everywhere he can reach, groaning when he cups her breasts --

And there's a moment she can be grateful didn't happen before now, a moment of *wanting*, pure and deep and utterly itself. If she could only *be* --

And Tim hears herself making a noise she can't name with anything but her own heart, the sound of *that* want, eased only a little when Jason moves his hands back to her ass, spreads her -- and there's the sound of Jason dropping to his knees --

"*Have* to, just --"

And Tim chokes on it, wet and full and not full *enough* --

Bruce shoves his tongue into her mouth, and for a moment he and Jason are *together*, same rhythm and same hot push, same *fuck* --

Tim shakes her head and groans, shudders all over and wonders if she'll come again before they do, if she'll have to face their need with a *clear* mind, or if they'll give themselves to each other --

Oh, she could *watch* --

And she remembers the way Jason had gone down on Bruce, the pleasure and care he'd taken, so slow when she never lets him do anything of the kind --

She's leaking again, twitching again, and the sting goes all through her, makes her feverish and hungry --

Is she clenching around Jason? Is she -- she's sucking Bruce's tongue and working her hips again, trying to get *more* as Jason moans --

As Bruce moans and cups the back of her neck, squeezes her there and promises without words to choke her again the way he'd done last night when everything was too much and Tim was losing the *thread*.

She can't lose it here, she can't lose anything here but herself, her pride and her -- her fucking *dignity*, because she's trying to go down on Bruce's tongue, because she's clenching around Jason's tongue as much as she *can*.

Just -- *in* her, and when the bats screech she seizes up with the desperate and final reality of just where she *is*, just what she's *doing* --

What she *is*, needy and grasping, sucking and *grinding* --

Oh, Jason's making her so *wet*, licking all around her hole, licking up and down her cleft before shoving in again, again and again -- so *good*, and Tim knows that she's *shaking* on her toes now, she's *defined* by the way Jason is stroking her calves, squeezing her thighs --

Bruce is still *kissing* her, harder and harder, and his need is so easy, so perfectly comprehensible. It's built on loss and *lack*, made from everything he knows he *isn't*, while Jason's has always been something to lift her up out of herself, something to watch and wonder at, because it never seems to wane, always seems to be there, no matter what she does. No matter what she *is* --

Bruce pulls back and stares at her, stares *into* her --

Tim shakes her head -- and squeezes her eyes shut because Jay is making *love* to her hole, kissing it so hard as he strokes her hips, as he holds her so *open*. He's *saying* things, and Tim can't help knowing what they are, can't help feeling them and feeling them chip away at everything holding her apart from this --

There's nothing that *can* hold her apart. She's -- she's *here*, and there's nothing she can do about that other than *leave* -- and she knows, deep inside, that she'll never, ever do that.

Not until they send her away, not until they need her to be gone -- oh, please, *no* --

And Jason pulls back. "No what, baby? Is it too -- tell me what's wrong?"

That was out loud. That --

Bruce strokes her face, tilts her head up -- "Open your eyes, Tim."

"I. I -- please, I."

"Yes," Bruce says. "*Please*."

Tim hears herself *sob*, breath catching and *hitching* -- she opens her eyes and lets herself get searched by Bruce, lets herself -- Jason is stroking her hips almost restlessly, and she's so *hot* in the cool air, so -- she shakes her head again. "I'm not -- don't *stop*, or --"

"You said *no*, baby --"

"I didn't -- I really didn't *mean* it," Tim says, and her laugh sounds terrible to her own ears, cracked and fucking *hysterical*. "It was just -- something in my mind. Something I had to *deny*. *Vehemently*."

Bruce frowns, but --

"Brain-trash, Tim?"

"Yes, *that*," she says, and oh, please, only that, only *ever* that, please don't let them let her *go* -- "Please, I. You can -- I need you inside me, Jay. I --"

Jason moans and squeezes her hard. "You sure? You're ready?"

Inside she feels -- she knows that even though she only feels a *little* raw now, that the second Jason's inside her --

Possibly the first push --

Tim swallows. "Try to... go slow." Slow and --

"Good thing I got so thoroughly *fucking* laid last night, because -- heh. You look *incredible*," Jason says, and kisses her again, hard and *fast*, fucking her until she feels like she might shake herself apart, and --

Bruce is moving. She wants to call his name, call him back --

She's moaning and hanging her head, not *quite* clawing at the horse, just -- this should feel like a *tease*, now. This -- she's *had* this already, today, she's been spanked and she knows what she *wants*. It's just that this is so liquid, so warm and so *good*, against everything even resembling sexual fairness.

("No, the *other* sex talk.")

Barbara -- oh, *God*, how is she going to explain this to Barbara? How, exactly, is she explaining it to herself? There are no real *words* for this other than the ones so familiar she thinks she knows their *taste*. Need and hunger, pleasure and love, so *much* in the way Jason is forgetting himself again, in the way that she knows, with all of herself, that he'll just keep doing this until she comes again if she doesn't stop him --

("Bruce looks like he can do you that way for *years* --")

*Bruce*, and the way he knows her, the way he can touch her effortlessly, read her like she's never been anything *but* obvious --

And Jason makes a noise *into* her, making Tim jump and shudder, gasp -- Jason pulls *back* --

"*Bruce* just brought the lube. I think we're in business, baby --"

"Oh, thank God," she says, laughs again --" And there's a hand on her back, sliding up to the back of her neck -- "Bruce," she says, and smiles. "Come back around here, please."

Bruce squeezes the back of her neck -- it feels more like a spasm than a decision made with actual thought -- and then he lets go and moves, cups her face with both hands and just... looks.

Tim raises an eyebrow -- and moans at the feel of Jason pushing in with one finger, slick and cool and perhaps *dangerously* soothing --

"It's. Only the medical grade. I didn't want either of you to wait," Bruce says, and strokes Tim's cheekbones with his thumbs.

"It feels -- ah. Very good. Perhaps I'm somewhat... biased."

Bruce smiles, eyes tracking her fast, searching her for something. Maybe everything. Maybe --

Jason is moving so *slowly*, and it feels like he's planning to make her as slick as *possible*, and -- it feels good. It feels... there's something *about* the slowness of it, even though she's hard and aching in several *distinct* ways.

It's -- there's a promise to it, a sense of absolute *attention* to this part of her, this thing they're about to do, or -- she doesn't know. It's another one of the larger mysteries of sex, and everything it can make her feel at the *oddest* times -- if not, necessarily, the most inconvenient.

"Pleasure," and Bruce presses against her cheekbones with his thumbs. "Confusion?"

"I -- it feels *too* good, for being so slow and gentle. I don't know. I'm... trying to figure it out."

"My hand and your ass *are* pretty good buds at this point, baby."

Tim clenches as hard as she can -- and gasps because --

"Did that hurt?"

"I -- um. Not pain, per se. Just -- bright. A *flare* of feeling -- mm." Bruce's thumb on her mouth, pressing -- does he not want her to talk? Tim *licks* his thumb and leaves her mouth open so she can breathe against it, so he can feel --

"Inside, you're probably... quite raw," Bruce says, and slowly pushes his thumb into her mouth, pushes down on her tongue --

Tim nods and closes her lips around it, but Bruce starts to pull out -- oh, *Jason* starts to pull out -- and they both push back in, slowly and just -- oh.

Oh, this is going to be --

Tim shivers and moans, clenches again and *moans*, and Bruce must be watching the motion of Jason's shoulder, has to be --

*Oh*, and it's even worse the second time, even more *synchronized*, and Tim shivers again --

"Like that, baby?"

Tim bites Bruce's finger to keep herself from clenching again, making this more *intense* -- but it doesn't keep Bruce from sliding out when Jason does, doesn't keep him from pushing back *in* --

She's salivating. And sweating. And -- oh, that *push*, deeper this time, and maybe less about preparing her than getting ready to *fuck* --

"See, I *know* Bruce is fucking your mouth a little while I do *this*. The *question* is if it's getting you as hot as *thinking* about it is getting me."

Jason wants. Jason would *want* this, at least if it were her with her fingers inside him, and -- no, he'd enjoyed sucking Bruce so *much*. She can picture it, almost *hear* the sounds he'd make, and it's making her harder, making her need --

Oh, just -- *together*, and every time Bruce's thumb doesn't go all the way to the back of her throat, Tim wants to whimper, *beg* --

Jason's pushing so *deep*, and that's what Jason would want from her, what *he* would maybe beg for --

"God, baby, the way -- you're holding yourself so *still* and it looks like it *hurts* when you shake --"

It *does*, and maybe that comes through in her moan, because Jason grabs her hip with his free hand and *pulls* her into the next thrust --

Bruce cups the back of her head and pulls her into *his* thrust, and this time she does whimper, shake more --

"Fuck, I -- two, now. Okay, baby?"

She nods and swallows back saliva, sucks Bruce's fingers because she needs to do something other than just make *noise*. Bruce strokes her hair, breaking the spikes and cupping her, *holding* her --

And when Jason pulls out, he does the same, all the way this time, and comes back with his first two fingers, opens her mouth with them and *holds* there --

Until Jason starts to push in.

She groans. She can't *help* groaning, because her body isn't sure where the stretch is, isn't sure which *part* of her is being forced open, *shoved* open --

"You feel so fucking *good* --"

"Your mouth is soft, wet... these are entirely logical things, and yet I find them compelling, Tim..."

*Please*, she says, only she can't because of Bruce's fingers in her mouth. The taste of them, mild and faintly salt, and it seems as though she *should* be able to know more about Jason's fingers, should be able to do more than pick out the exact shape of them and their motion inside her --

Faster, now, and Bruce could make her choke and Jason could make her *hurt*, but neither of them are doing anything of the kind. Just -- so smooth, so sweet it makes her ache, and it's nothing like being used. It's just *her* pleasure, and how it won't *stop*, like those nightmare fantasies of Jason sucking her the way he'd sucked Bruce last night, like all those dreams where Jason did nothing but kiss her, wet and soft like her mouth, like --

Oh --

She can *move*, it's just that doing that might break this, somehow, might make it *stop*, and -- she doesn't know if she wants that or not. It's so perfect, so incredible to feel them moving her, making her take, making her feel --

Oh, *please* --

"You're shaking so *much* now, and -- fuck, baby, if you weren't so hard I'd wonder if we were hurting you --"

This moan is much too loud, much too -- Bruce could at least have the courtesy to help her choke it *off*, but he's still cupping her head, still pulling her in even as Jason pulls *out*, back and forth and *back* again, and her knees are going to buckle, her arms can't possibly keep *holding* her --

"Jesus, yeah. I -- I almost don't *want* to use my dick --"

Tim clenches and *bites* --

"I believe she's expressing some displeasure with that line of thought," Bruce says, and Tim grinds her teeth *in*, because the least he could do is feel as crazy as *she* does --

"Okay, okay, Tim, you're -- it's just that you're so *beautiful* like this --"

"*Yes* --"

"*Please*," and it's muffled by Bruce's fingers, slurred and completely unintelligible -- except that it makes Jason thrust *hard*, breaking the rhythm at last and letting her *shout* --

"Jay," and there's a warning in Bruce's voice --

"She *likes* it hard, B, you *know* that --"

"We mustn't. She can be *damaged* by this --"

"I know, I know, but when she begs like that I have to *listen*, and you can't tell me you're not feeling it," Jason says, pulling out slow and thrusting in just a little faster than before, just --

"I am. I want to." And Tim can hear his breathing hitch, hear a small, *small* sound like a moan he's *trying* to hold back -- Tim sucks his fingers hard and reaches for him, for the *bulge* in his shorts -- "*Tim* --"

"*Let* her, B. She -- God, I think she knows what she wants *now*."

And maybe it's something she should dislike, this -- talking *over* her when the only reason she can't communicate is Bruce's fingers in her mouth --

Except that Jason presses *up*, and there are suddenly a *lot* of reasons why she can't communicate, unless the noises she's making are all they need to hear, all --

She always wants her voice to be *lighter* than it is, and it's not that her voice is particularly deep, but it's coming out as low as it can go right now, harsh grunts and a moan when Jason starts thrusting again, when she starts *working* her hips because it's going to be soon, they won't make her *wait* --

And when Bruce thrusts against her hand she has to squeeze --

"Oh. Tim."

Has to *clutch* and try to pull him closer, try to coordinate her own movements enough to get as much of both of them as she can.

Take your *shorts* off, she tries to say with her groans, with the grind of her teeth against Bruce's fingers. Let me *see*, but all he does is thrust against her palm again --

Again, and he's not thrusting into her mouth, anymore, and one of the few parts of her mind which is still offering anything like useful information wants her to know how *important* it is that Bruce has lost his rhythm, wants her to remember how long it has been since Bruce had carried her here, how much Bruce has to *want* --

"Oh, *yeah*, B, sometimes I *just* want to fuck her fist. I can't -- I have no *idea* how I used to fuck civilians --"

"Soft. They are... I. Tim," and Bruce strokes the back of her head and down to her neck, around her throat and up her cheek. "Tim. Would you like. May I."

"Spit it *out*, Bruce --"

"*Jay* --"

"She *needs* to hear it," Jason says, and he's emphasizing himself with his thrusts, making Tim work her hips faster, grunt around the fingers in her mouth -- "She loves it when I tell her what I want, maybe even more than when I *show* her --"

"No denial, no... recourse against your own desires --"

"Or maybe she just likes the dirty talk. Right, baby?"

She moans and -- she *shouts*, because Jason slaps her ass again, reaches around to slap the other *side*, and he's still thrusting, still moving in her --

Oh --

Again, more, hard and *fast*, and Tim knows that her mouth is hanging open, that she's panting and groaning for it, twitching and *shaking* --

"I want your *mouth*," Bruce says, the hunger in his voice is vast, dark and shadowy, something which has the capacity to loom over everything and *define*. It's an *imperative*, and she *has* to let him go and grip his wrist, instead, has to *pull* because Bruce isn't taking the hint --

"Oh, fuck. Oh... I wanna tell you to watch out for her teeth, but I already know you *like* that, B --"

"And so do you," Bruce says, and he still sounds hungry, but there are elements of accusation and *plea*. He still has his *fingers* in Tim's mouth, and they're in the *way*.

She yanks *hard* on his wrist and Bruce shudders, all over, presses down on Tim's tongue again -- and shudders again when she glares.

"Are you seriously going to make her *fight* for your cock?"

It seems to break something tight and harsh within Bruce. He blinks like he's just waking up and smiles -- "It seems as though that would be something to see -- ah."

Possibly she's biting his fingers *too* hard --

"You've left a bruise already, Tim. Would you mark me as you've marked Jason?"

Would you like to be mine?

And it is, perhaps, possible that Bruce can hear that, can *feel* that the way she's feeling Jason to the point that her body doesn't feel like her own --

Bruce slides his fingers out of her mouth *slowly*, perhaps taking the maximum amount of *scrape* from her teeth for his own, perhaps --

Jason crooks his fingers again, and this time her vision blanks for it, this time all the sweat that was prickling beneath her skin is *out*, making her obvious, impossibly sexual --

And when she can see again, Bruce is pushing down his shorts, stepping out of them --

"God, B. You got hard as soon as you heard her heels on the *stairs*, didn't you?"

"Yes," he says, and takes himself in hand, steps closer until she loses the scent of herself under the scent of him, the feel she doesn't *have*, yet, and she braces herself on her hands and looks up into Bruce's eyes. "Tim."

"If you try to... oh, *Jay* --"

Crooking *rhythmically*, over and over -- "Yeah, baby?"

"Ah. I need. Need a *moment* --"

"Not too long. Not -- I'm. God, are you really gonna suck him while I fuck you?"

"I'd like to try," she says, and leans in enough to nuzzle, enough to lick, gently --

And watch Bruce shudder again. She smiles, and Jason shoves her dress up further, strokes her back and scratches a little, then scratches down over her *cheek* --

"*Jay*, I --"

"Fuck, sorry, baby, just -- need to make you *feel*, or. Reach back and grab me?"

She does, and Jason guides her hand to him, wraps her fingers around him and moans, and Tim has things to *say*, but none of them are as important as taking the head of Bruce's penis into her mouth and sucking *hard* --

Bruce gasps and shudders *again* --

"Is she sucking you, B? Does she --"

"The heat of her mouth. I. I feel..." And Bruce cups the back of her head again. He *doesn't* pull, but that feels more like accident than intent -- or perhaps just something she can *punish*.

Tim pulls back --

"Tim. Please --"

"If you try to synchronize your thrusts with Jason again, I'll bite in a way you won't *like*," she says, and Jason's laugh sounds breathless and *pleased* --

"Understood," Bruce says, and *now* he pulls --

"*Now*, Jay -- *oh* -- *mmm* --"

Jason fucking her with his fingers and Bruce's penis filling her mouth, stretching it open and giving her a *reason* for all the drool, giving her *this*, even though he must feel as though he's taking, the way she'd felt the first several times Jason had sucked her --

One of the ways, and it's a *very* good thing that Bruce doesn't have all the same issues she does, and it's an even better thing that Jason is pulling out --

"Have to, baby. Can't wait --"

She hums and Bruce thrusts deeper into her mouth, pulls back and does it again. Fucks her *face*, and had Barbara ever fantasized about this, in particular? Did she ever imagine herself on her knees to Batman in some alley, on some rooftop?

Or did Bruce look at her perfect, painted mouth and dream -- *oh*, that push, that *feel*, because Jason goes slow but he doesn't hesitate, doesn't pause until he's all the way in and Tim is stinging, needing --

"Oh, *yeah*, I -- God, don't know how I went without this yesterday, never know how I can fucking *live* --"

"Her mouth. I." Bruce strokes her head almost restlessly, moving to drag lines over her cheeks with his fingertips, cracking more spikes and not *quite* pulling --

"Yeah, *I* know," and Jason holds her in place and *rocks* his hips, back and forth and -- oh, it's *not* gentle, but it's so smooth she has to moan again --

"*Tim* --"

-- *right* around Bruce, and he squeezes her face hard enough to *hurt* for a moment before going back to petting her, stroking her --

"Beautiful, so generous. Batgirl."

And that probably didn't mean 'bare your teeth *now*,' but it might've -- if she goes by the way Bruce *groans* and starts to rock *his* hips, pushing in and *in*, making her take and torturing himself, too --

"Can't fucking *decide* which of us has the better deal here, B -- oh, Jesus, baby, clench up tight again --"

Jason's fingers are lined up against aging bruises, either by accident or design. He presses with his fingers and the pain shoots through her, light and promising. And maybe the promise is fulfilled by *this* clench, by the *brightness* of the pain, the absolute and undeniable *fact* of it --

"Fuck, *yes*, now let me go a little, let me -- can't fuck you hard with you all tight right now, and I *know* you want it hard --"

She nods as much as she can with Bruce holding her, sucks and forces herself to relax everywhere *except* her mouth --

"The feel. The sight of you, so *willing* --"

Another scrape of her teeth and Bruce *bucks*, making her moan and choking it off at once, and knowing that she *has* the reflex to swallow is nothing against the way she'd just *done* it, without so much as taking a breath first --

"*Right* now, baby," and Jason spanks her again and starts to thrust steadily, shoving her up on her toes with every push, and it's only the way she's braced on her arms that's stopping Jason from shoving her onto *Bruce*.

Or -- no, he's holding her head still for his own thrusts, and the light tremor in his hands is the only real sign of the *depth* of his arousal --

"The things you find pleasurable seem. Unreal. Impossible to believe in. You are -- perfection, a fantasy I believed I had too much shame to encourage within myself..."

*Bruce*. And what... did that mean she's too greedy? Too -- over the top?

"*My* fantasy, knocking all the others out -- out of my fucking head, B. Only her, only everything --"

"I *understand*," Bruce says, and starts to thrust faster, giving her next to no time between thrusts to gasp in air, no time to really *moan*, even though Jason's using just the right rhythm, the one where she can't ever doubt how much pleasure he's taking from this, how much he *wants* --

"I think -- think you do. Oh, fuck, baby, *fuck* --"

Yes, *fuck*, fuck *her*, take her and use, please --

*Please*, and the pain is growing with every thrust, each slide of Jason's penis seeming infinitesimally rougher, *harder*, until she's forgetting to gasp for all the noises she needs to make, all the sounds she needs to have choked *off* by Bruce --

Oh --

The *scent* of him is so strong, so -- so thick and *rich*, pushing into her as much as his penis is, *fucking* her with pure male arousal until she can't even smell herself. It's -- it's *wrong* that she can't smell Jason, that she can only *feel* him --

Feel him taking, faster now because --

"Sorry, Tim, I'm so -- you feel so *sweet* --"

Jason has always seemed to -- benefit from, not suffer -- a kind of sexual synesthesia, insisting that her moans have a taste, her bites -- or the moments before them -- a *smell*. Jason lives in his body so easily, so perfectly, and at moments like these, Tim can almost imagine what it must be like.

There's nothing she has to do to please both Bruce and Jason other than more of *this*, and this has all the raw necessity of autonomic function: the motion of her tongue on Bruce, the helpless clench of her internal muscles, the noises she's making that only sound like more, even to her own ears.

A part of her thinks it would be better to *have* words for this, but that's the part which remains unmoved and unmovable no matter what she does, no matter who she *is*. A useful thing for Batgirl on the street, but nothing that belongs here, not now, not --

"Hold me. Only. Only that," and Bruce pulls almost all the way out, making her reach for him, pull against Jason's hold --

"Not yet, baby, not. Oh, Jesus, fuck, I'm so *close* --"

"*Breathe*," Bruce says, and it hits her in the same place that Barbara's voice does, demands the same *obedience*. She opens her mouth around Bruce and gasps, does it again because her body drinks in the oxygen like water in a desert --

Again, because she can, and every exhale is making Bruce shake, making Jason moan --

Or perhaps that's just the feel of her, the thing over which she has no control, but that Jason worships as part of *her*. Jason loves -- he *loves* her, and has for a long time, and the knowledge fills her up and leaves her gasping for other reasons, makes her shake and clench, clench and *shout* --

"Please, Tim. I need -- take me. Take me, again..."

She closes her lips around Bruce and sucks as hard as she can, holding him with as much pressure as she can bring to bear without hurting her lips on her own teeth --

"Pressure, hunger. Be *ready*," and Bruce cups her head again and pushes in *just* as slowly as Jason had, just as smoothly, only Jason's rhythm is ragged and *harsh*, nothing she can respond to with more than just her own speed, her desire to make this *right* --

"Don't -- oh, God, I don't want to *hurt* --"

"Never damage, never. Never *scar* --"

"Baby, *please* --"

And she's moaning around Bruce's penis, feeling the *push* of it against the back of her throat, insistent and implacable --

She *swallows* and shudders all over, barely managing to avoid falling back against Jason, because she's so *full* now, more with every thrust, more with every breath she can't *take* --

Bruce wants to be held, wants to be -- oh, the feel of him last night, so warm and so close as she drifted off to sleep. So *comforting*, and maybe it was the same for Jason, uncomplicated memories of his parents --

Tim remembers being curled in the backseat of the old Mercedes, covered with her father's suit jacket with her head pillowed on her mother's sweater, remembers *this* warmth, this precise full-body feel of perfect safety, perfect --

Happiness?

Laughter is impossible, but she's still shaking with it, still has it all *through* her, and it must be in her eyes, because Bruce looks shocked, pleased in a way Tim doesn't know how to *touch* --

"Batgirl," he says, again, and she wants to correct him -- she's *Tim* now, and no one else -- but it's possible that he's seeing someone else, entirely. Let him. This is *hers*, now, and it always will be. No one will be able to take this away from her, this feeling of being entirely in her body in a way she hasn't managed since the last spar with Bruce, the moments before she had made the mistake which allowed him to throw her --

Or maybe those brief and brutally precise moments of flight, out of control and lost to the violent whim of a powerful man --

*Two* powerful men, both of them --

"*Please*, baby, please don't make me stop --"

"Just this, Tim. I. Please..."

Both of them *begging* for her now, begging for everything she can give them and everything she *is* -- or can be.

A *light* within her, a power in her sexuality --

Tim closes her eyes against the plea in Bruce's own and gives *in* to it, to the sensations rushing through her in waves and jagged thrusts, to the feel of being full and utterly taken. Full --

And utterly powerful. If only for the time it takes --

"Can't. Fuck. Love you, love you need you --"

"*Tim* --"

More, then, if she can, and she sucks at Bruce's shaft, works her hips in the small space Jason is allowing -- his hands are so *slick* on her hips --

Bruce's fingers are slick on her temple, shaking *hard* on the back of her head --

And then Jason squeezes her hips hard enough to make her need to shout, *slams* in --

"*Jay*." Bruce sounds hurt, *desperate*, and she knows he's staring at Jason, watching him come and wanting it for himself, maybe wanting the feel, too, the heat and perfection --

Jason pulls out *much* too fast, tightens his grip even more -- is he collapsing?

"Jesus -- oh, fuck, so *good*," and his hands are sliding down her thighs, his come is slipping down her cleft --

She can't *breathe* and Bruce is twitching in her mouth, thrusting again -- short and *blunt*, fucking her face and wanting Jason, he has to be --

"I need. Tim, I *need* --"

Oh -- but she knows that, she still knows -- she braces herself on one hand and reaches for Bruce's hip with the other, curling her fingers in and urging him to take more, longer strokes, *better* --

"Nuh. Uh... Jesus, Bruce, you haven't come yet?"

"Close. I --" And the rest of that is a groan, deep, and -- if it did have a taste it would be something strong, something that forces Tim to salivate, makes her mouth ache and demand *more* --

And then Jason *licks* her, up the inside of her thigh, and Tim realizes that she'd lost sight of her own arousal, and realizes that that can't happen, anymore.

"God, I *am* dirty, 'cause --"

And Tim squeezes Bruce's hip *hard*, because Jason's licking her again, licking up lube and his own come --

*Jesus* --

"Can't help myself, baby," he says, low and slurred. "You can take it --"

And the sound that comes out of her when Bruce pulls back again is loud and *high*, perhaps a little *indignant* -- or perhaps she's fooling herself, because it feels *just* that good, soothing and *raw* at once, like possibly she could *never* be too dirty for Jason, in any possible *way* --

But Bruce shoves in again and chokes her off before she has to admit *anything*, Bruce is hard and *twitching* in her mouth, thick and long and so *good*, so -- he *is* close, and possibly she can get Jason to stop once Bruce has come.

She bares her teeth again, scraping them over the inside of her lip and rubbing them against Bruce's shaft --

And then Bruce is *gripping* her head and fucking her *hard*, over and over until she can't help but gag a little, and more until she finds his rhythm in self-defense, swallowing and making obscenely muffled noises --

Jason's *tongue* inside her again, thrusting and reminding her how raw she is, how much she'd just taken again, how much she -- really can't take again. God, how *dare* it feel this good? He better not expect her to *kiss* him -- except that she will, and probably *love* it, and maybe they'll give each other nasty infections and have to be benched for their own fucking --

*Good* --

And Bruce isn't slowing down so much as he's losing his rhythm, shuddering and pausing while he's buried down her throat, jerking and squeezing her head when he's just resting on her tongue --

"Do you want. Your pleasure. I."

What was that?

"I'm --" *Lick* -- "I'm pretty sure he's asking if you want him to come in your mouth, baby."

Oh. And *oh*, because Jason's in her again, Jason's pushing in a finger *next* to his tongue --

She's up on her toes --

"*Please*."

And the only possible answer is to *grip* Bruce's hip and pull him in deeper, pull him back into her throat -- and then her hand decides on its own agenda and she's reaching around to Bruce's ass, pushing into his cleft and rubbing, *pushing* --

Bruce shouts and *grinds* her face against his mound, hair ticklish and rough --

He's coming in her and bucking, knocking her finger back out of him and groaning -- she tries to get back in, but Bruce pulls out and *staggers* back, just like Jason when she's done an especially good job -- he grabs himself and squeezes, throwing his head back --

And spattering the horse.

Tim sucks in a breath and licks her lips -- and does it again because they're swollen and tender, because she can't *taste* him the way Jason is tasting her, tasting himself -- she growls and swipes her fingers through the spot on the horse, bringing them to her mouth and -- oh. He tastes so *different* from Jason, cleaner and heavier at the same time --

She's making a sound. She's making several sounds, most of them wet and *shameless* --

And Bruce takes her face in his hands and kisses her gently, licking the inside of her mouth clean and generally giving her an entirely opposite overall feeling from Jason, who's still fingering and tonguing her at once.

She feels herself twitch and knows that she's *been* doing it all throughout, that there has to be a wet spot on the floor beneath her penis from all the pre-come --

Her dress --

And Bruce wraps an arm around her waist and *lifts* --

"Hey, no fair, B --"

Bruce pulls her against him and kisses her cheek, her temple, her *ear*, and should she wrap her legs around him, again? What message would that send, exactly?

"*She* needs to come," and Jason had clearly moved right away, because he's cupping the backs of her thighs and lifting --

"Oh. I -- ah. About -- coming. I'm not sure I can take more attention directed at my ass, right now -- *mm* --"

Bruce's tongue in her mouth and Jason wrapping her legs around Bruce *for* her -- and reaching between her legs to cup her sac, which wants the rest of her know that it still *hurts*, that Jason's spanks had been the sort of thing which *lingered*, and the pain almost makes it okay --

Did she really just think that? Is she about to ask them to do something hideously *mean* to her penis in the name of helping her with her *issues*?

She laughs into Bruce's mouth and gets held tighter, almost *crushed* against him as Jason squeezes her, strokes --

"So maybe I'm kinda oral," he says, and there's a good, long moment to *think* about what that means, but it's not enough to prepare her for the feel of Jason *sucking* on her sac, because she thrusts against Bruce helplessly once, twice --

His t-shirt is too *soft*, and she's scrabbling for the hem of the thing while Bruce hums into her mouth, makes her tongue buzz in memory, makes her lips feel like they could be used over and *over* -- she's pressed too tightly against him to get the shirt up.

She pulls back --

Jason *sucks* --

She grunts and Bruce holds her tight enough that she can't *breathe*. She bites his tongue and *holds* it --

Bruce relaxes his grip *slightly*. Just enough that Tim can get his shirt up, feel his heat, scars and hair and warm *skin* --

"I'm sorry --"

"Shut *up*," she says, and kisses Bruce again, wraps her arms around his neck and doesn't think about anything but the feel of him. So -- impossibly *large*, solid, and he might as well be the extremely comfortable wall she's rubbing herself against, and Jason --

Jason *moaning* around her sac, down on his knees and taking something she'd never given permission for, and -- he knows that's one of her fantasies. Whether or not he's thinking about that right now is another story, but he *does* know, so --

Maybe she can live in the Tim Drake who's *just* that hungry, just that helpless before Batman and Robin, the most beautiful --

Batgirl should kiss Batman *exactly* like this, greedy and rough, brave and sure against everything he can do to her with hardly any effort expended. Batgirl has to be strong for this, Batman *needs* her to be strong -- no.

*Bruce* needs to know how much she wants him, how much she appreciates *everything* about him, including the need inside him, the thing that drives him to always take too *much*, to push himself in where he doesn't belong --

Jason --

Jason's *teeth*, and she shouts into Bruce's mouth, bucks and grinds and *thrusts*, letting him feel her, feel everything, and he has one arm locked around her waist and the other hand on her cheek, splayed and *gripping*. Tim sucks his tongue, soothes it with her own and thinks about biting again, thinks about --

Jason's *moan*, humming through her from her sac right up her spine, and he's stroking her ass so *hard*, calluses dragging against where she's still stinging and hot --

Tim bites Bruce's lip because she *has* to, and he pulls back with it still between her teeth. His eyes are bright, happy and still so *hungry*, and Tim moans and shudders, grips him with her thighs --

"Will you come for us, Tim?"

"And how much. How much are you loving that 'us?'" She's panting now, and Bruce's eyes are wider, sharper --

"Very, very much," Bruce says, and lets go of her face, reaches down --

Jason moans again, and she knows that Bruce's hand is in his hair, perhaps tugging a little --

Tim feels her face twisting with something that must look like hurt -- it *is* hurt, the pain of being this aroused, this *close* with Bruce against her, Jason *on* her -- she pants more, right against Bruce's mouth. The dress is a bunched-up *mess*, and she must be, too, but Bruce looks like he doesn't want to be *done* with her.

This could last --

This could *last*, and there's fear for that, thorned and deadly, driving her --

Making her --

"Tim," Bruce says, and there may have been more words after that, but she's screaming, her eyes are squeezed shut --

She's coming all over Bruce's *chest*, all over herself, and she can't stop screaming and Jason *won't* stop --

Won't --

*Please*, she thinks, when she's shaking herself back into her body, when she realizes that she's digging her nails in against the back of Bruce's neck --

When Jason pulls off and leaves her swinging, wet, *dirty* --

"Oh, baby," and Jason's up and kissing the back of her neck, pressing the dress against her sweaty skin, licking her and kissing more, breathing against her --

Tim catches her breath in a series of increasingly controlled gasps, keeping her eyes closed until she *can* breathe in something like a normal way. When she opens them, Bruce is studying her, a smile at the corner of his mouth and the light in his eyes... banked, not dimmed.

Tim raises an eyebrow.

Bruce's smile gets significantly sharper. "And if I don't want to let you go, just yet?"

Reading her with ease and a very, very attractive confidence. "Then I suppose I'll have to think of something suitably cruel --"

"To encourage me, Tim...?"

That... Tim digs her left heel in just above his kidney and drags it down.

"Beautiful," he says, and searches her more --

Jason laughs. "Seriously, B, you *have* to put her down. I kinda need to kiss her."

"You 'kinda need' to brush your *teeth*," Tim says, turning to look at Jason. "I can't believe you *did* that."

And describing Jason's grin -- she's not going to describe Jason's grin, right now. It's a little too on the *nose*, as it were --

"Aw, c'mon, baby. Your ass was right *there*, little hole flexing and clenching..."

Bruce hums and *cups* her ass, squeezes hard enough to make her body remember that spanking in *detail* -- she can't quite keep herself from writhing a little.

"Oh, yeah...?"

"I -- ah." She looks at Bruce and the light is back, and she thinks she'll call it *possibility*. Something more direct than potential, something broader than simple *want* -- "Food. Training --"

Jason's stomach grumbles. "Damn, why'd you have to remind me?"

"Because we've... spent enough time at this as it is," she says, and *kicks* Bruce. Lightly.

Bruce hums again and releases his grip *just* enough to let her *slide* down to the floor. She shivers and watches Bruce's penis *twitch* -- she doesn't lick her lips.

"You were *about* to say *wasted* time," Jason says, and spins her around to face him, pulls her close by the hips. "But you couldn't."

"Ah... no. I couldn't."

"*Good*," and he squeezes her hips. "Shower?"

"An excellent idea," Bruce says, and slips his finger between the back of her neck and the dress. As choking goes, she's had more... compelling, but there's something about the *way* he does it --

Possessive. Tim shivers, and stills herself from doing it again when he pulls the zipper down. He pauses with his fingers pressed to the small of her back -- "Ah... I really hope the dry cleaners will be able to do something with this --"

"For this, I'm quite sure Alfred will want to take matters into his own hands."

Jason snorts. "Okay, *not* thinking about that at *all* --"

Tim feels herself making a face. "Yes, *really* --"

Bruce hums again and strokes up Tim's back, pushing the dress forward off her shoulders. Jason steps back to give Tim room to step *out* of it, and then she's naked save for stockings, garters, and her bra --

Jason's eyes are -- very.

"*Later*," she says --

"I'm not saying *anything*, baby," Jason says and nods back over her shoulder. "That dress looks *obscenely* tiny in Bruce's hands.

Tim turns back to look... well, yes. "Presumably I'll grow," she says, and reaches to unhook the bra. Bruce takes that, too --

And Jason drops into a crouch to release the catch on her garters --

"Presumably the two of you will let me dress and undress myself, *sometimes*."

"We did this morning," Bruce says, and it sounds *exactly* like 'you can only ask so much.'

Tim snorts and shakes her head, and lets Jason strip her out of the -- somehow entirely whole -- stockings. When he's done, he kisses his way up her thighs... and to her abdomen. To her *navel*, and Tim pushes up on her toes again --

Bruce rests a hand on one of her shoulders. Presumably he doesn't want to let go of her clothes with the other. It's -- a request to stay put? To *let* Jason... not tickle her. Not really *arouse* her, either. It's an *odd* feeling, more than anything else, but watching Jason do it...

She really can't help thinking of other things. She reaches down to stroke his face, and he smiles while licking -- stabbing a little, really, and --

"*Shower*," she says, and Bruce lets go of her, and Jason stands up again -- and kisses her throat.

"You always look so good to me..."

Tim closes her eyes and thinks about staying just like this, about how very few actions -- and reactions -- it would take for them all to start having sex again. It's a curious kind of control, a lot like holding a very large and dangerous animal by the tail --

And perhaps her brain needs to be taken out and *shot*, because now she's thinking about just how *hard* Bruce had come when she'd pushed in with just one finger -- focus. *Focus*.

She takes a deep breath and deliberately fails to give Jason a *good* hug --

"Okay, okay, I hear you, baby," he says, and steps back again. She turns and walks for the showers, aware of Bruce picking up the stockings almost reverently, of Jason watching her move...

She works her hips a little.

*

She washes his back with the kind of professionalism that makes Jason mourn inside, especially because it's absolutely a message. Still, he can keep himself under control while he does the same for her, and he does, limiting himself to working at a slight knot she has near her left shoulder and getting her clean, again. He watches, though, out of the corner of his eye, and she doesn't frown much at all when she's washing her tackle, and that has to count as absolute improvement.

Bruce acts like he's alone in the shower when he gets in, but it's not in a bad way. Just that sort of 'we're all adults here' thing that Jason has to wonder how much he used to fake. He's *pretty* sure it's not fake, now, and Bruce smiles a little when he turns to let Jason wash *his* back.

They're all on board, and if he's honest with himself, it feels at least as good as more sex would -- if in completely different ways. Jason leaves the shower first, so he's just in time to help Alfred laying out the breakfast things on the conference table.

He thanks Jason as politely as ever for his help, and Jason's ready to go with the idea that they're just going to play this like nothing freaky is happening, but -- Alfred pauses with the empty tray in his hand.

"Al...?"

"Hm," he says, and he could be looking at nothing or he could be taking in the whole Cave -- and everything that's been going on. When he puts his mind to it, no one's harder to read than Alfred.

"Everything okay?"

"I might ask you the same question, Master Jason," he says, and turns enough to give Jason the Eyebrow.

Not even Tim's eyebrows come close, and yeah, Jason's blushing a little. "Uh. I think so?"

"No more than that...?" And Alfred isn't frowning, but the potential is there, and for a moment Jason lets himself think about it, about what Alfred is and isn't willing to deal with for Bruce -- and for him. He isn't sure he wants to know if Tim rates -- or *how* she does, and --

Damn. "This -- it's just not going to be *not* fucked up, a little. Do you know what I mean?"

The eyebrow goes up a little higher, and the potential frown gets a little deeper -- "Master Jason, if... something is the matter, then it must be --"

"Dealt with, yeah, I'm hearing you," Jason says, and raises his hands. "And maybe something *should* be the matter. A part of me -- a pretty large part of me is pretty damned clear about *that*, but -- there's the rest of me."

"I'm listening, young sir."

And maybe if I was just Jason, maybe if you ever stopped being -- you. Jason shakes his head. "It's okay, Alfred. It's -- we're dealing. We all are."

Alfred just looks at him for a long moment, reading him down to his damned *DNA*, maybe, but Jason just looks right back, and, after a moment, he nods. "As you say."

"Yeah, I -- yeah."

And Alfred pulls on about sixteen different layers of formal, standing straight and giving Jason the goodbye nod before walking away and up the stairs.

It feels like there should've been more there, but that's the kid in him talking, the one who survived the streets by getting buried, the one Tim pulls out of him by breathing, the one who -- used to -- live with Bruce. Right. He's gonna have to deal with that kid sooner or later, but right now all he has to deal with is breakfast.

He piles up his plate and sits down. He's about a quarter of the way done when Bruce joins him -- oatmeal so plain it doesn't *deserve* to be eaten -- and a little more than halfway done when Tim gets there. Her hair looks a lot like it can't decide whether to lie down or stand up in all directions, and he is not going to say a *word* about it -- at least not until he finds a way to remove every available shaver from Gotham. It'll grow out soon enough, and --

It's a lot more interesting to watch the way she's sitting. A *casual* observer might not notice anything out of the ordinary, might just think she's formal enough to always want to sit straight and near the edge of the chair even for a casual meal, but...

"How you feeling, baby?"

She blushes -- just a little, and she probably won't stab him for the grin on his face.

Probably. "I'm only asking 'cause you look a little... stiff."

She turns to capital-L *Look* at him, spoon poised halfway between the table and her mouth.

"I'm just interested in your *well-being*, baby --" And there's a knife pointed at Jason's eye.

A butter knife. Jason taps it with the fork he'd raised to block -- ooh, there's yolk on it. Jason licks it off and grins at her again.

She narrows her eyes and spins the knife back down to the table -- and Bruce is looking at both of them from under his lashes while he eats. There's a smile in those eyes, but there's also a large amount of *focus*, especially on Tim. "This is where you tell the big, bad Bat that you're good for training and patrol tonight."

"Well, considering the fact that I'll be spending very little time sitting *down* during those activities..." And her voice is calm and steady, matter-of-fact -- and she's blushing harder.

Jason looks at Bruce and yeah, he's totally zoning on that blush a little bit. Jason gets it. She's *shy* right up until you get her started -- or dare Batgirl to come out and play. And then she's really anything *but* shy --

Damn. Doing her from both *ends*. Over the *pommel* horse. And she's just sitting there blushing and eating and sitting up nice and straight and -- damn.

"Yes, Jason...?"

"Heh. I just got an image of what it's gonna be like to see you in school, uniform perfectly neat, not a hair out of place..."

"Until you drag me into a utility closet?"

Jason takes a bite of bacon and enjoys it thoroughly. "I was thinkin'... under the bleachers. Grass stains on your knees, wildflowers stuck in your hair..."

Tim makes a face. "They *mow* under the bleachers, too, Jason. I doubt there would be flowers --"

"I will bring flowers *with* me and I will shove them in your hair --"

"I will *cut* you --"

"A rose, perhaps?" The smile on Bruce's face is kind of teasing, and absolutely interested.

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Don't you use roses for *dead* people, B?"

"Not," Bruce says, and sips his juice, "all the time."

"Oh -- man. I can't believe I *forgot* that rose you grew for freakin' *Clark*."

Tim is looking at both of them. She's still holding the butter knife pretty aggressively, but... "Clark? You grew a rose for *Superman*?"

Bruce looks down, and he's not *actually* blushing, but -- yeah. "He totally did. It was the same blue as his uniform --"

"Almost," Bruce says. "I chose the one which came closest for the gift, but... it was crushed during his rather overly exciting birthday party." He nods at Jason. "Jason saved all of our lives."

"From a damned *tentacle* beast," Jason says, and grabs some more bacon -- *someone* has to eat it. "Clark has the *weirdest* damned enemies."

"Clark," Tim says again, and looks thoughtful. "You're close to him. Both of you?"

"Him more than me, baby. I gotta admit -- I find him to be a little..." Jason waves a hand. "Always thought he paid a little too much attention to my thighs for a -- um."

"A man his age, Jason...?" Bruce's smile is wry and oddly quiet. "It's true that he's very attracted to you --"

"Aw, man, see, I didn't need to *know* that, B. I was *happy* in my denial."

Bruce hums and finishes his oatmeal off --

"Seriously, now I'm gonna be *thinking* about it every time I have to work with the guy --"

"I -- wow. Suddenly Superman is a real person," Tim says, and blinks a little. "A real person I might have to maim."

Jason snorts and Bruce coughs, a little, raising his napkin to his mouth. Jason reaches out to cover her hand. "Hey, *don't* worry. Big, tall, and cornfed *alien* really isn't my type."

"Still. There's only so far I'm willing to *share* you, Jason -- including the right to ogle your very, very nice thighs."

"I promise to try to limit myself to his calves and biceps," Bruce says, with *great* solemnity.

"Hey, they're *my* body parts --"

"Thank you, Bruce," Tim says, and begins eating her fruit. She never puts sugar on it that Jason has seen, but sometimes she'll take a little cream, which for some reason is right up there with the sexiest things he's ever seen her do.

"You're quite welcome. Jason, would you like to negotiate which parts of Tim I'm free to... ogle?"

Jason -- blushes. "Uh -- um?"

Tim giggles and covers her mouth almost immediately. "Oh, sorry, I just -- perhaps my *breasts*, Bruce."

"Mm. I assure you that I spent a great deal of time considering whether or not to... augment your usual size."

*That* -- "You a breast man, B?"

"I... overheard that part of your conversation when Tim confessed to having wanted breasts closer in size to Barbara's. I agree with the choice she and Barbara made, but I thought... perhaps for clothes not intended for *work*..."

Tim nods. "But... you didn't want to assume."

Bruce smiles at her. "Something like that, yes. *Was* it... a good gift?"

"It was both terrifying and intimidating, Bruce. And a very good gift," she says, and reaches to cover Bruce's hand for a moment. "Thank you. Though I'm not sure I'll be up to... ah. Celebrating every outfit in the same manner we chose today."

"Yeah, baby? How 'bout just the ones you like best?"

"*Least* would be far more practical."

"Yeah, but I think it's pretty *imperative* that you feel as pretty as you can. You know, for your self-esteem."

"Mm. And the proper disposition of my favors, yes," Tim says, and finishes her fruit before turning to him, smile sharp and demanding, *daring*.

It makes him roll his shoulders a little -- and makes Bruce lean back and pull on Batman like a second skin. Jason licks his lips --

"Would you have liked being in *my* position, Jason? Bruce?"

Getting spanked and fucked and *fucked*, with Tim on one end and Bruce at the other, and he can see Tim dealing better with being sucked than fucking -- even if it didn't turn out to be *much* better. And he can see --

Batman, crumbling right off Bruce like he was never there at all. And Bruce looks a little *stunned*. Not surprised, really. Just -- *hit*. "I. Tim. When you inserted your finger --"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. She put a finger up your ass? How the hell did I miss *that*?"

"You were occupying yourself in other, even dirtier ways," Tim says, and dabs her mouth with a napkin. "You seemed... focused."

"Well, it *was* your ass, baby, but -- seriously? Really? You've never done that to *me*," he says, and he knows he sounds a little hurt, but -- *damn*.

"Would you like --"

"Uh, *yes*. Holy -- and your hands are so *small* --"

"Too small, I would've thought --"

"No," Bruce says, and looks Tim up and down, starts to reach and *stops* himself --

Tim raises an eyebrow at Bruce's hand, and it looks a lot like 'oh, please,' and also 'I'm *waiting*,' and maybe there should be a rule against Batgirl at the breakfast table, because Bruce *still* looks like he might be reeling a little on the inside --

But he -- eventually -- curls his hand around Tim's wrist and squeezes. "The sensation was deeply pleasurable, for all that it was unexpected. I didn't intend to... move away."

Tim keeps looking at him -- *into* him -- for a while, but then she nods, and turns back to Jason. "I... to be honest, the idea hadn't ever occurred to me before... that moment."

He can see that. Tim doesn't really swing that way at *all*, for all that *Batgirl* was born for it. And no matter how much Tim hides and *tries* to hide, she's almost always *right* there when they're making love, like maybe she can't help herself. It's the kind of helplessness Jason can really --

("I understand... helplessness. And love that doesn't allow freedom.")

-- go with. Hunh. Maybe he's getting a lot of things at once. Maybe -- he shakes his head and reaches out to touch Tim's face. There's a little smudge on her jaw that looks like dirt or makeup, but is really a bruise Bruce and Jason had helped make between them.

Her *neck* makes her look like a victim, and she's covered up enough by the robe that he can't see the rest -- but he knows it's there.

"Jason...? Are you all right?"

"Just thinking about you and sex and the kinds of things you'll *take*. Like -- take for yourself, not just put up with."

Tim's eyes narrow a little in a smile that's probably a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the out. "Well. There's nothing like someone else's... passion to make help convince one of one's innate attractiveness."

Jason can see Bruce nodding out of the corner of his eye, and when he turns Bruce is staring a little and searching more, and Jason wonders if he's been passionate *enough* for Bruce, if there's more he could've said or shown -- "Bruce's hands," Jason says, and gestures with his chin. "There are totally limits to how much anyone else can perv on them."

Bruce blinks. And raises an eyebrow slowly.

Jason grins and leans back in his chair, spreading his hands. "For a while I was spending a lot of time *thinking* about those hands and what they could do to me. It would've been a lot easier if they were all *bad* thoughts, in a way."

Tim twists her wrist in Bruce's grip until he lets go... and then runs her fingers over Bruce's knuckles.

"See, that's just the kind of bad behavior I was talking about, baby."

Batgirl smiles at Bruce's hand and taps the largest knuckle with her fingers. "Noted."

"I. I never want to remind you of your past, Jay," Bruce says, and he's leaning in a little, looking *real* earnest...

Jason shakes his head again. "That's just it, B -- you're *part* of my past, for better or worse. Anybody who took me out of that situation -- that *life* -- would be, especially if they had to live with me right after."

"You were never... I always saw your presence as a gift. Every morning you were still here..." Bruce looks down at the table and frowns. "I know I shouldn't have seen it that way, that it had nothing to do with me --"

"It had *everything* to do with you. I mean, Alfred was great, but I couldn't really *relate* to him. You did everything you *could* to make it possible for me to relate to *you*. And I'm not saying you were perfect or anything. You said some things that made me twitch, pushed me harder than I wanted to be pushed, but -- you were always there. I guess what I'm saying is that I think I'm starting to appreciate what that must've been like for you, how hard that had to be --"

"It was never hard to be your friend, Jason --"

"Even with everything else you *wanted*? Seriously, I -- I can't see me waking up when I'm your age and falling hard for some teenager, but then I wonder what would've happened if that teenager was *Tim*, and I kinda get a serious case of the cold sweats. Like maybe it isn't as black and white as it *should* be... I don't know. I just... I need you."

Bruce looks up again, and there's that hope, that confusion and hunger and everything else that's maybe never going to get very far away at all.

"Bruce..."

"Jay," Bruce says, and reaches across the table.

Jason clasps their hands together and squeezes. "It's okay. And everything that isn't is going to *be* okay, because we'll be handling it together. Always."

"Always," and Bruce turns to Tim -- Jason turns, and *she's* looking down and blushing, and maybe it's kind of silly for both him and Bruce to reach out and take her hands, but it doesn't feel that way.

Especially not when that tiny, quiet smile shows up on her face and makes the thing inside Jason that belongs only to *her* ache.

Bruce lets go first, squeezing them both before pulling back and standing. He heads right for the console, and that means it's time for both of them to do their stretching and get to work. Clothes first, though, and Jason entertains himself on the way to the lockers with thoughts of Tim working out wearing nothing but a little tape on her wrists and ankles.

Tim looks at him like she knows *exactly* what she's thinking, and that's the best possible reason to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way to the lockers, especially since none of her nerve strikes are designed to hurt him badly enough to make him drop her.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, and waggles her eyebrows at her. "Just pretend I'm in a tux and you're in... I dunno, something fucking gorgeous."

"And white, Jason?"

"Uh -- whoa?"

Tim snickers and twists and flips out of his arms, fucking *sashaying* the rest of the way to the lockers while he stands there probably looking a lot like someone had taken a two-by-four to the back of his head.

"Hey, that... uh."

"Yes, Jason?" She's pulling her workout clothes out, laying them neatly on the bench, and Jason -- is pretty much stuck on white.

White shoes, white garters, white -- veil? "Uh?"

Tim snickers a little more and pulls on a beat-up t-shirt -- she'd pulled out a jock to work out in, which always makes Jason a *little* bit relieved and --

"Uh. Wow. That was -- you *know* I'm gonna be thinking about that for a while, right? I mean -- you know I *would*."

And she pauses with a pair of boxer-briefs on, the jock in her hand -- when she looks up, her face is still laughing at him, but her eyes are soft. "I recommend we table the discussion for a few years. Yes?"

"If you --"

"*Yes*?"

Jason closes his eyes for a minute and just -- breathes. She's everything to all the parts of him he can understand without needing to break his brain. *Bruce* is everything to those other parts, and he gets that now, but sometimes he has to wonder if anything would be easier if he could just... cut himself a little bit.

Slice out everything that doesn't make easy sense and just leave Tim's Jason, the one who makes absolute perfect sense and would never make Alfred need to check on him, never need Bruce to just keep *looking* at him, keep seeing him and feeling him --

And there are other parts, too. He *knows* that. The parts that are built on an anger he's never been able to control, as opposed to being able to soothe it, a little. Feed it. *Those* parts don't belong to either Tim or Bruce, and they wouldn't want them, either --

"Jay...? I'm sorry if I -- I don't mean to joke --"

"No, no," he says, opening his eyes and reaching for her hips, for the grounding he always gets from bone and skin, warmth and *touch* -- "It's not -- I just got a little lost there, for a minute. It wasn't about -- what you said."

She frowns and rests her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me...?"

("You make me... sometimes you make me. Worry.")

He wants -- badly -- to brush her off a little, tell some lie about a nasty memory, something that will make her just hug him and promise to always be there -- he never wants to lie to her. "Just -- thinking about last night. Patrol, that is."

"You were... you lost control."

And you're supposed to *believe* me when I say I'll do better -- except that he doesn't really believe himself. "I -- yeah. I figure, maybe, Babs knows? And maybe Bruce is telling himself that I was just stressed out about what I was planning to do with *him*..."

"It would be a logical assumption," and her tone is cautious and quiet and *all* about the fact that *she* knows that doesn't have shit to do with shit.

Jason sighs and strokes her hips. "Sometimes... I don't really know where the anger comes from. It's just -- there. In me, and sometimes it just builds and builds, but it does it *quietly*, you know? I can't even feel it unless I'm thinking about it, like... I don't know, remembering to wince when I'm getting blood drawn or something."

"Harder than that, I'd think...?"

"Yeah. Yes. That," Jason says, and thinks about all the times when he'd felt *just* fine right up until the seconds before he was about to shove some asshole's nose up into their brain. When he'd felt *better* than fine, really, all cylinders firing and body made for exactly what it was doing. So much so that he didn't really *need* to think, that thinking would get in the way of doing what needed to be done.

"And... you don't know where it comes from, at all? You don't have... theories?"

That -- Jason snorts. "That sounds one fuck of a lot like you *do*, baby."

Tim winces a little and wraps her arms around his neck, pushing in close and rubbing her face against his shoulder.

He used to think that it was only something she did when *she* needed comfort, whether or not there were tears on her face to be wiped away by what she was doing. He knows, now, that it's something deeper than that, something that pretty much *defines* comfort for her, like maybe she can press everything she has to give directly into Jason's skin --

She'd done it with Bruce, too, a little, and --

"I love you," Jason says. "I love the way you feel and -- the way you *feel*. I wish I could just... I never want to make you worry about me, never want to make you scared or disappointed or anything like that."

"I know... that. I know you'd never hurt me," she says, and looks up at him. "If you could help it."

Once, just once, she'd gotten between him and someone who really needed to be hurt, a john who'd been beating and raping young prostitutes and leaving them for dead in alleys. Probably it would turn out that the guy had had really fucked-up parents, an abusive mother, a drunk or absent father... something like that.

Something Jason had seen countless times growing up and countless more since becoming Robin. The first thing you learn is that *everyone* has a story, and that some people can't get away from being the characters that story defined. But Jason hadn't cared about that, and if he's honest with himself? He still doesn't. The man was an asshole, total fucking *scum*, and he'd needed to be *hurt*.

*That* time he *had* felt the anger rising in him, and it had felt so good he'd actually gotten a little hard. Which was just something else to be sick about *after* Tim had gotten between Jason and the fucker. After he'd lashed *out*, and hurt her.

Not much -- she'd probably only had to stretch a little more for a couple of days, and she hadn't been angry or scared --

The way she isn't angry or scared, now, even though she maybe should be. "Tim... sometimes it feels good."

"To hurt people? Well, *yes*, it's something we all have to --"

"To *want* to hurt people," he says, and he's wincing, and -- she is, too. "I like it. That feeling. It -- takes over everything. Nothing else is important, nothing else can ever *be* important. I can do it slow or I can do it fast -- it doesn't matter so long as I *do* it. And I know that isn't --"

"You... ah. You make it sound a lot like sex."

"-- the. Uh." Jason frowns and forces himself to think about it -- it doesn't take much thought, at all. "Shit."

Tim nods and pushes her hands into his hair, tugging a little --

"I -- almost time to let Alfred at me with a pair of scissors --"

"Let me do it? I can. Um. Sometimes Barbara lets me," she says, and blushes.

Jason smiles, a little helplessly. Maybe desperately. "You do her hair?"

"She *hates* salons. She says spas are a different order of magnitude entirely, but -- yes. It's. I like it."

Jason pulls her tighter against him and just feels her for a minute, looks into her eyes past the worry and sees only -- love. "You're so good. To me, for me, *with* me --"

"I wish. I wish I could be better."

"No, baby, I -- I use you too much --"

"You *don't*," she says, and yanks his hair *hard* --

"Okay, okay, but just -- listen, okay? You *distract* me from that thing inside me, that anger --"

"Not enough, anymore, and that -- Jason, you have to." She bites her lip -- lets go and takes a breath. "Okay. Here it is. You know... a lot about me. Probably more than anyone except for Barbara. You know about my issues, and you've probably got some wonderful theories as to why they're there. *Bruce* certainly does -- I don't want to get off track."

"I'm listening, Tim."

She nods and bites her lip again, looking down enough that Jason can *just* see her eyes tracking fast, see her thinking and probably rejecting half a million different ways to say what she wants to say -- "I. I've always appreciated that you don't... shove my issues in my face. I know there are things about the way I was raised --" Her breath hitches and she *growls* --

"Tim, hey, you don't have to --"

"Bruce said -- never mind what he said. I know that how I spent much of my childhood plays a large role in why I am the way I am now, that's just logical. *Human*. And I don't want to make you drag up any more bad memories than you already have, but -- maybe you should. In your own time," she says, and tugs on his hair again, lightly this time.

"You think..." Jason frowns. "You're blaming my childhood? Seriously? I thought you were going to come up with something random and devastating about how I'm just -- I don't *know*. That's -- kind of the *point*."

"I know -- but. Jason, you had kind of a *bad* childhood, and it has to --"

"*Your* parents left you to fend for yourself nine times out of ten. The way you talk about them, the things Bruce has said, that *Babs* has said -- you didn't *have* fucking parents, and you're getting on me about *mine*?"

Tim stiffens *hard*, face a *mask* --

Shit. *Shit*, where had that *come* from, he can't -- "Jesus, no, I'm sorry --"

"You're *not*. And that's -- okay," she says, and steps back. "None of this was ever supposed to be easy, and maybe. Maybe I'm not the one to talk to about this, because, as you said --" The mask slips and her face *twists*. "I'll just -- go train now."

Jason reaches out --

She blocks him *hard*, slipping into a ready position -- she laughs and it's *awful*, low and cracked.

"Tim, Jesus, I didn't mean to -- you've never *hurt* me, and I --"

"You did exactly what I did, Jason," she says, standing straight and turning to put her shorts on. Turning her *back* -- "So maybe we both have a few unresolved issues. At least you turn yours on people who deserve it."

That -- Jason bites back the growl, but -- "I don't have fucking -- I've *dealt* with my --"

"My mistake," she says, and pauses with her hand on the closed locker. "I don't want to -- I won't argue with you."

Leaving, she -- she's cutting him *off*, cutting *this* off, and it's really not -- Jason shakes his head. "Look, I don't -- maybe you *should* --"

"What -- what are you *talking* about?" She turns back and she's looking at him like he's *crazy*. "I said something that hurt you, you said something that hurt *me*, and I think we should just *leave* it there until we're both -- until we can *cope*."

"I need this," Jason says, and he knows it's true because it fucking *hurts*, because it makes him feel sick and desperate and fucking *greedy* -- "You. Bruce never brought any of it up, either. Not the fact that my father was a two-bit fucking *hood* and not the fact that my mother was a pro. It was just *there*, and he never used it against me, never told me that I needed to work to get over -- get *past* that -- fuck, baby, if it wasn't true it *wouldn't* have hurt."

She narrows her eyes. "Meaning I should just go ahead and piss on my parents' memory just because they had lives of their own?"

Jesus -- "*No*, or --"

"Yes?" Tim shakes her head. "I can't *have* this conversation, Jason --"

"But it's all right to throw it in *my* face just because you don't like it when I make some asshole piss his pants?" Danger, fucking danger here --

"It's the ones who'll need a *catheter* I'm more concerned about --"

"Like you've never stomped some fucker's balls hard enough that he had a fucking *rupture*? Sometimes I wonder if you hate your --" No. *No*. He needs to fucking control himself, he needs --

"You wonder *what*, Jason? Say it."

"No. I'm not -- I don't --"

She punches the locker hard enough to make the sound echo through the rest of the *Cave*. "You *wanted* this conversation, so *say* what you were going to say."

"It's not *true*, baby, I -- Jesus, I just lost control of my mouth for a second --"

"What *is* it?"

And he knows, down fucking *deep*, that if he *doesn't* say it, she'll fill in the blanks, herself. And if it *isn't* worse, it'll only be because of dumb fucking *luck*. "Okay. Okay. I was going to say -- I wondered if you didn't hate your junk so much you were going to make everyone else pay for it. That you -- fuck, baby, I know you're not *like* that --"

"Maybe I am," she says, and crosses her arms over her chest. Taps her fucking *foot*. "Maybe I'm *just* that fucked up. I sure begged for it, didn't I? A little fucking *punishment* --"

"Don't -- don't bring the sex into it --"

"The sex is *always* in it, Jason. Or -- well, maybe it wouldn't be if I could control myself a little better, but --"

"Tim, *no*," and she blocks him again, again -- stops and lets him put his hands on her shoulders. He hasn't felt her this tense in fucking *ever*, but he's got his hands on her, and he can -- that's *improvement*. "It's not about you. It's -- I *told* you that I don't mind, that I love you just the way you *are*."

She stares -- *glares* at him for a long moment, and then she turns to the side, breathing a little fast and *very* obviously getting control of herself, again.

Jason squeezes her shoulders. "Baby..."

"I just don't know how you..." She exhales sharply. "Look, it's -- I have a *minefield* inside me, and we both know it. You know where a lot of the mines are, and now I know that if I make you mad enough, you'll set off one or two --"

"I'm *sorry*, I never --"

"Want to hurt me. I know. But sometimes you can't control yourself, and *that's* the point, right there. I love *you*, and --" She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, tilting her head back.

Bruises, old and new, and Bruce hadn't left any when he was choking her, but he *could've*. Maybe they wouldn't even show to the casual eye, not with all the rest. She -- she *takes*, and she needs to do it, because --

'Because' is getting them in fucking *trouble*.

"Tim, look --"

"*You* look," she says, and turns to face him. There's a lot of the wrong kind of heat in her eyes, and --

Jason nods.

She nods back. "Okay. You can't always control yourself. *That's* the point I was trying to make. *I* think it has a lot to do with the fact that you -- that things were *bad* for you for a very long time, and not all of the bad happened after your mother got sick."

"I -- she wasn't my mother," Jason says, and feels something open up inside him, or maybe beneath him. Feels --

"What? What do you mean?"

"After... after I moved in here, an old friend of -- the woman who raised me came out of the woodwork. She was holding some of her things, papers and -- anyway. There were adoption papers in there. My real parents... I have no idea who they are. Mostly I don't think about it. Mostly -- sometimes it really fucks me up, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, now --"

"Maybe because you're looking for a reason not to think about the people who *did* raise you --"

"And maybe you're being a serious *bitch* right now, baby, Jesus --"

"I thought you *liked* it when I was a bitch, Jason," she says, and knocks his hands off her shoulders, turns --

Jason growls and spins her back to face him -- and gets punched in the jaw. It's not one of her show-stoppers, but it does a damned good job of making her *point* --

"Robin. Batgirl. What's *wrong*."

Jason freezes and watches Tim do the same. She's glaring at the floor and he's glaring at *her* -- and Bruce looks pissed and worried at once.

She hasn't hit him since the first few nights they were together, and it was never -- she was never *angry* when she did it, before, and -- mother*fuck* --

"*Answer* me."

"We're having an argument --"

"Nothing," she says. "Nothing is wrong. It's just time for me to get out of here before something *is* wrong," and she walks -- stalks -- around Bruce and starts heading for the bikes.

There's something -- even when she's pissed and probably hurting like crazy, she still puts a little twist in her hips. She's.

She's walking *away*, and that -- he can't let that happen. He moves to follow -- and Bruce catches him by the shoulder. "Let *go*, B, I need to --"

"What does *she* need?"

To -- no. No. He's not going there, and --

"*Jay*."

"To get the fuck away from *me*, but, Jesus, B, I can't let her just --"

"I'll talk to her --"

"You don't even know what the *problem* is --"

Bruce squeezes Jason's shoulder hard enough to hurt. "There's only one thing you haven't given her with all of yourself, and that's the full extent of your past --"

"I *told* her --"

"There are things you haven't told yourself, Jay --"

And maybe it's just the fucking *day* for them knocking each other around, because he sure as fuck can't deal with Bruce's hand on his shoulder -- "*Don't* you fucking start. I have to *go* to her --"

"Like this?" Bruce's voice is so *quiet* --

And nothing about *him* is quiet, right now. His hands are clenched into fists and he's tense and -- *shit*. "Fine. Fucking --"

"Jason, I knew. About -- your mother."

"*What*? I -- I got rid of those fucking papers --"

"Not right away," Bruce says, and looks into Jason's eyes.

There's a promise there, if he can stand to read it. If he can -- deal. Jason closes his eyes. "Fine. We -- we'll talk. And maybe it'll go better -- go. Talk to her. *Keep* her here --"

"If she can bring herself to stay," Bruce says, and grips Jason's arm --

"*Go*. Before she --"

Bruce lets go and jogs to follow Tim, and Jason -- Jason puts a fist-sized dent in his locker door. God fucking *dammit*. Tim -- *both* of them, and it's not like he doesn't know he had a shitty childhood, but all the fucking *picking* --

He'd *told* Tim about the hustling, and about his -- his *adoptive* father -- he'd told her *about* the adoption and she'd just thrown it back in his *face*, after *thanking* him for not doing that shit to her --

And he'd ripped her about her useless shitbag parents, and about her *gender* issues, and then, to top it off, he'd called her a bitch. Fucking wonderful. Fucking --

This isn't supposed to come *out* of him unless he's on the damned street, unless he doesn't have her there to make things okay, to make *him* okay -- except that that hadn't worked last night, and he'd lost it out there. *Twice*. She still shouldn't have --

He'd just wanted to *talk*, because maybe she *did* have the right idea about some of this stuff, but her issues had gotten in the way, and she'd lashed out, and --

He can fucking *diagram* it, A leading to B leading to C, but it still feels exactly like that punch -- hard and out of *nowhere*. They're supposed to be *better* than this. They *are* better than this, and he just has to convince her of that. He just --

He'll do *something*, because she *can't* leave, because as much as Barbara likes him, he's nowhere near as important to her as Tim is, and that's the way it *should* be, but -- he can't. He and Bruce barely ever even *see* the Birds. They get sent all over the damned *world*, and Barbara would snatch Tim in a fucking *heartbeat*. She probably has the jewelry all made for her, and.

Fuck, Tim had been talking about *marrying* him. Joking about it, sure, but there had been something real there, something true and just *right*. She loves him and he loves her --

He should've let her end the conversation. He should've apologized and held onto her until she relaxed in his arms, and then they could've worked it all out in a spar, and everything would've been fine. Sure, he'd still have his own fucking minefield, but Tim is the most careful person he knows. She'd *never* trip things by accident, and.

And the next time he lost it on the streets, there'd be something in her eyes. Something deep and dark and scared, and it would be all about him, and. The things he hasn't told her.

Told *himself* -- but that's fucking *bullshit*. He's never been able to do a damned thing to keep from thinking about things he didn't want to think about. If he *had*, he would've had a lot more fun the first few months after moving *in* here with his brand new life and brand new -- father.

Jason snorts to himself and sits on the bench, just -- he gives himself a little while to put his face in his hands, to kinda float past the *edges* of this *giant* fucking *fuckup*. Bruce can't fix this. He can't even fix *himself*. If he could, Jason wouldn't know *exactly* what his dick tastes like, and Tim wouldn't have a sore mouth, and --

If he could stop *needing*, just for a fucking *minute*. If he could not think about the way Bruce is probably touching Tim right now, about how she'd let him soothe her, one way or another. Hey, maybe he's fucking *choking* her again --

"Oh, God."

No. It was *good* less than an hour ago. They were laughing and joking together, talking shit about the Superlibido and just -- *together*. They can *do* that, and never mind the fact that they probably shouldn't be able to do anything of the kind. He -- he needs to deal, full stop.

'In your own time,' she'd said, being gentle, trying to make it *easy* on him, because she knows him, and knows that there are parts of his life --

*His* parents had fucking *tried*. There was no money, there was *never* any money, so they'd done what they had to do. And yeah, maybe his father would've done better not to get fired from job after job, and maybe his mother -- she *was* his mother -- could've finished high school instead of --

How the *hell* had he *been* adopted, anyway? What kind of agency would've let that happen? No, it would've had to be private, an arrangement between friends, or at least acquaintances. Who had his mother *known*? Was it another pro?

Had he handed his real mother a card with Leslie's name on it some night or another? Had Bruce? Dick?

Bruce *knew* about it, had gone through Jason's things and found it, maybe one of the nights when Jason had stayed out until dawn, looking for somebody to hit -- or had he known before? He'd *said* he'd known about Jason's father, had planned to check on Jason and his mother -- or. It would've had to come out when Bruce was pulling out all the fucking *stops* to adopt him. Wouldn't it?

Would Bruce keep it from him if he knew who Jason's real mother was? He can't -- he can't *see* that, but there are a lot of fucking things about Bruce he hadn't let himself see, for a lot of *years*.

Jesus, who *is* he? And just -- he'd been willing to *go* with still being Jason Todd, still being *himself*, but... hadn't he just kind of *demanded* that of himself with no real internal argument, at all? Hadn't he just --

And possibly the worst thing about this is that he knows Tim was right about the motivations *under* the fucking motivations. That, in the end, finding out he was adopted had been a real fucking good *excuse* to stop thinking about all the other fucked-up things. Finding out that Two-Face had murdered the man who'd raised him, his mother dying of fucking AIDS -- and he's never talked about that with anyone, never --

Babs getting shot. His father lying on some M.E.'s slab with two slugs in his brain. His father sitting at the kitchen table when he got home from school, a beer in one hand and the sports page in the other. Stealing food from bodegas and half-hoping to get caught, because there'd be a *meal* in it. Learning to suck cock and learning to do it well enough to get it over with as fast as possible. His mother, and how much fucking pain she was in, how completely unrecognizable she was at the end, sores running into each other and skin yellow where it wasn't blackening with --

With --

Oh, yeah, he'd dealt with *all* of that, and gotten himself trained to be the best fucking *Robin* he could be, knowing full well that, when it gets right down to it, *Robin* can't do shit to help the kids like him --

Jason digs the heels of his hands in against his eyes and doesn't make a sound, doesn't say *one* fucking word.

Bruce is talking to Tim, getting her to stay -- *if* she can handle it -- and maybe it really would be better if she couldn't.

Babs has never *hurt* her. Babs has the control to keep her shit to herself, to *actually* deal with her issues... except for how she's been shut up alone in that Clocktower for years, and pretty much never goes out, anymore, unless her father drags her to a party --

Fuckups. He was right the *first* time. He just hadn't really taken into account how much of a fuckup *he* was. Is. And maybe he can understand Tim a little better right now, because, yeah, it *is* all obvious if you think about it. *He's* obvious, and he fucking *hates* it. Some mystery and a few shadows would be *great* right now.

He needs -- he needs, and none of what he needs is *here*.

Jason throws on the first workout clothes that come to hand and heads back out into the Cave proper -- and yeah, Bruce and Tim are over by the cars and bikes, talking.

*Bruce* is talking, hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim's looking down at the ground and either listening or -- tolerating. He can see her tension from here, and he can't --

He needs.

He forces himself to relax as much as he can before walking over, evening out his breathing and releasing the tension, remind himself not to curl his hands into fists unless he plans on *using* them, which he absolutely fucking *doesn't* --

He's still about thirty yards away when she looks up, feeling him -- she frowns and turns to Bruce, and Bruce turns back to frown at him.

Jason raises his hands and walks a little slower, watching them wait for him, watching Tim maybe trying to decide if he's worth it. It's *something* to know that Bruce won't give up on him, to have that kind of *surety* -- helplessness and a lack of freedom, right. Wishing Tim to be that kind of fucked up for him just makes him even lousier a person, but he's still doing it. 

He stops when he's close enough for her to hit him again, and -- she's really not going to say anything. Bruce won't, either. "I'm sorry," he says, and keeps his hands up. "I was -- I was out of line, taking shit out on you just because you were there, and that's -- I never want to do that. I don't want to be that guy."

If anything, Tim looks even *harder* than she had before he started talking, and -- yeah. She knows that already. She *knew* that, and he'd done it anyway --

Jason shakes his head. "I figured -- you were right. There's. I *really* like to tell myself that there's nothing about my past I haven't dealt with, that I'm as healthy as I can get, as anyone could expect me to get --"

"Jason," she says, and crosses her arms over her chest again. "I'm. I'm sorry I -- you tried to confide in me, and I. Threw it right back at you. That was wrong."

"You were trying to make a point, and I -- I get that," Jason says, and thinks about reaching out for her -- she's watching his hands like maybe they'll do just that and she'll have to strike out again. He drops his hands to his sides, instead. "So... mostly I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you. That's -- that's what it boils down to."

Her mouth looks *pinched*, but -- she nods, and squeezes her arms together a little more tightly.

"Can we -- start over? Try again?"

"I think -- I still think I should give you a little space, Jason," she says, and for a moment all Jason wants is for her to call him Jay again, to do it the way she always does, like she's taking a *privilege* and can't help herself, besides.

Jason bites the inside of his lip and searches her face a little more, looking for something soft, something he can *touch* --

"It's -- we were bound to have a fight, eventually. Though I didn't think I would -- I'm sorry I hit you."

"Uh -- I was putting my hands on you when you didn't want it, baby. You -- I think you're supposed to hit me when that happens."

"I could've -- I should've told you to stop," she says, and looks at Bruce again --

Bruce is nodding, and -- he really doesn't have a *say*.

Jason reaches out -- stops.

She smiles ruefully and punches his knuckles with her own before crossing her arms again.

"It's just -- Tim, I don't think you were wrong. For doing that. I was pissed, and I still am, a little, but not about that."

She tilts her head back a little -- nods again. "What *are* you pissed about? Exactly."

He thinks about reaching *out*, but it's still not the right time for it, and maybe that's why both of them think she should be going now, because Jason doesn't think he's going to last much longer *just* being able to see her -- he takes a breath. "Mostly -- mostly the stuff about my mother. My... real mother. Biological mother, whatever."

She looks at Bruce again, but only for a moment before she nods. "I was angry, but I still knew that you were telling me something important, something that should've made me listen before opening my mouth. If you want to... If you ever want to try talking about that to me again, I promise to do better."

Do better. This is all *about* doing better, and how she doesn't think he *can* -- "Uh. I'm also angry that you don't. Believe in me."

Her eyes get *wide* and she shakes her head -- "Jay --"

"Yeah, *that*. I like it when you call me that, and -- fuck, baby, I know you *believe* in me, but I also know that you don't trust me to fucking cope on the streets, right now."

And Bruce kind of *shifts*, like maybe there's something he *wants* to say to that, but Bruce had also kind of fucking *ditched* him, training-wise -- No, *he's* going to do better, and Jason knows it, but... it's been a *long* damned time with Bruce shoving him at Batgirl when Jason was twisted up in his head. *Babs* was still Batgirl when it started, so -- still not his place, and --

Tim isn't saying anything, and she's not saying it really fucking loudly, because, yeah, he'd hit the nail on the head.

Jason scrubs a hand back through his hair. "So... I'm angry about that. I'm more experienced than you are, I'm *older* than you are, and part of me says that means you don't get to decide when I'm good enough and when I'm not."

Tim swallows and nods, once.

"But I know you, baby, and I know you'll work with me and help me as much as you can, and you'll have my *back* -- and you'll do it even when you think -- when you *know* I'm out of control, because that's just who you are. And part of me is mad about *that*, because you *shouldn't* be like that --"

"Jason -- Jay. I. I'll keep trying. Keep pushing. Because I don't want --" She looks at Bruce again and frowns hard before looking down at the floor between them. "I don't want to see your eyes the day you slip too far and kill someone."

It would've been so, so easy to kill Garzonas. And there are times. "I don't. I don't think about it too much, but sometimes I wonder if I was too slow to catch him on purpose. I felt. I felt the wind from his fingertips against my own, and -- I'm still not sorry he's dead. I don't think I ever will be."

Another shift from Bruce, and -- he steps back. He doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to *know* this, but --

"Bruce, stay. You need to hear this," Jason says, and wraps his hand around Bruce's wrist --

"Jay -- I don't know that there is anything I could say, or do --"

"I know you don't. But you can't just -- not know this about me. It doesn't work that way," and Jason looks up at him, maybe begs him a little with everything behind his own eyes --

And something *falls* behind Bruce's own, or -- maybe he just slumps, a little --

"Man, I fucking hate seeing you *defeated*, B --"

"Jay, I -- I never knew exactly what happened on that balcony. I couldn't trust myself to know you --"

"As opposed to loving me? Yeah, see, *I* thought, back then, that you just plain didn't trust *me*, and that maybe you shouldn't. I *wanted* him dead, Bruce. I -- not even Gordon getting shot over that was enough to make me stop being glad that he'd never hurt another woman --

"I know. That --" Bruce twists his wrist in Jason's grip, but Jason is *not* letting go.

Just -- one of them has to let him *touch* -- oh, God, is he really that -- Jason hears himself making a fucking *noise* and forces himself to let go --

Bruce puts his hands on Jason's shoulders and turns him. "I never. I could never judge you for your *desires*, Jason --"

"Neither could I," Tim says, and her arms are still crossed, but her eyes are... open. That's the only word Jason can think of for it, except maybe for *willing*, and the space between them still feels fucking awful, but it's *less* awful. Maybe enough to let him... let him.

Jason laughs softly, and knows the volume doesn't do a thing to hide the sickness in it. "So what you're both saying is that you're *okay* with the fact that I'm murdering these fuckers in my head every damned night --"

"It's not every night," Tim says --

"You don't *know* that --"

"We do," Bruce says, and squeezes his shoulders. "You've always been... it's not that I've never seen your anger, Jay. I've always seen it, from the first moment I saw *you*. It felt like something I could -- it was something I could understand, and feel. It was *familiar*, and all the better because I didn't have to fight it in myself. I've used you, lived *through* you --"

"Jesus. *Jesus*, B, I." Jason shakes his head again. "You're... what? You *wanted* me to be this angry?"

And Bruce closes his eyes, looks -- fucking *rough* --

"You're his partner," Tim says, quiet and calm. "You already know how much that means, Jay, how much it *changes* things. He wanted to be able to live *in* you, not really through. He thinks... well," and Tim's smile is small and rueful. "He loves you *exactly* the way you are, even though it causes you pain. And he hates himself for that."

Bruce squeezes Jason's shoulders again, and his eyes are still closed, and --

Fucking hell. "So maybe I *shouldn't* be loving you so much, baby?"

"I'd never change the way you feel about me, no matter how problematic it gets. There's a certain sort of relief -- it's possible I mean *release* -- in knowing that I'll always have your touch, Jay. Whether or not I can stand it."

And that was nothing but honest, and so it's time to cope. Especially since Bruce's eyes are open again, and he *isn't* pleading, but it looks a lot like that's only true because he doesn't think he has the right to. "Bruce, I... I was thinking, just a few fucking *minutes* ago, about how I was grateful for how you feel about me, because I needed it. I need it. Okay?"

Bruce nods and -- touches Jason's neck with his thumbs. It's not quite a stroke, but it's there, and... it's there.

Jason nods and reaches up to move Bruce's hands, squeezing them a little before turning enough that he can look at both of them easily. "That's my issue. I'm angry, and I'm angry about being angry, and I'm angry at Bruce for letting me *stay* angry, even though there's nothing he could've done about it. And I don't want to think about it, because it gets in the way of all the good things I have right now and all the good things I *can* have, that *we* can have, and I can't -- I don't want to deal. Because part of being me is being pissed the fuck off, I guess? Maybe."

They both nod, *almost* in time with each other, and it's not that funny, but Jason still has to laugh a little. Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Your turn, baby. Why are *you* angry? Because I think I can guess, but --"

"It boils down to the fact that the three people I care most about in this world -- the ones who are *alive* -- seem convinced that I should be writing off the ones who are dead. That I shouldn't be grieving for them --"

"Not that," Bruce says --

"Baby, *no*, your grief -- you're *supposed* to grieve --"

Tim holds up a hand. "Fine. I'll stipulate that you both believe there's nothing wrong with the fact that I am grieving. In retrospect, I should have... allowed room for that within the construct I'm in the process of building. But both of you -- and Barbara -- have made it abundantly clear that you have no respect for the people who raised me, for the people who are responsible for my *existence* --" Tim frowns and stares at the floor again.

Her hand is still up, so Jason keeps his *mouth* shut, but -- what would he say if it wasn't?

He looks at Bruce, but he's doing that thing where there might as well *be* a shadow hiding his face -- he waits.

"So," she says, and looks at both of them again. "You didn't know them. *You* never so much as *met* them, Jay, and Bruce? You were too busy pretending to be a moronic playboy to. To." Tim kind of *coughs* out a laugh, smiles like someone *that* surprised to be *shot* --

"Tim, baby..."

"Do *not* reach for me. Just -- don't," she says, and covers her face, scrubs at it with her hand -- drops it and glares at them. "You didn't *know* them. My father -- he built a multi-million dollar business from *nothing*. My mother helped him, *ran* the business while he was getting his MBA, and then they switched off. They never wanted a child, I -- I know that. But they had me, anyway, and they made sure I was never hungry, never cold or. They showed me the *world* with their videos and stories. They made sure I spoke multiple languages fluently. They *loved* each other, and they loved me, too. I *know* that, and -- no. No. I'm not going to try to *justify* them to you, because neither of you *deserve* that. It's not for *you*, and the sooner you both realize that, the *happier* we will all be. Do you *understand*."

"It was never my place to judge them, Tim," Bruce says. "I have no excuse for having done so."

Can he get away with a 'what he said?' Probably -- really fucking not. Jason sighs and curls the hand he isn't reaching for her with into a loose fist. "You never. You never actually said anything bad about my parents. The fact that I *heard* you saying it -- well, you didn't. I know *why* I lashed out like that, but it was still wrong to. Do it that way."

She narrows her eyes, and Jason bites back -- *fights* back -- a wince. No way was she going to miss that fucking weasel, and --

"Okay, wait, let me try again, baby --"

"What."

Okay, so the wince is coming out no matter what. Jason sighs and raises his hands again. "I'm -- I'm just going to be honest here for a minute, okay? Because that's what *you* deserve, and it's just -- I never want to lie to you."

She closes her eyes for a moment and nods.

"Everything I've heard about them, everything I *know* about them says that no matter who they were as *people*, they didn't do right by you. And that's the most important thing to me, Tim. That's -- it matters more than anything, because I love you, and I can't fucking stand to think of you not having the best of everything possible --" Unless it involves you moving *away* from me --

And Tim *heard* that, or felt it, because her eyes are narrow and she's starting to look a little angry again --

Jason makes a pushing gesture with his hands. "Easy, I -- I just tripped over the fact that I have -- that there's an exception there. I don't want you to go. I never, *never* want you to go, even if that would *be* the best thing for you. I -- okay?"

She stares at him -- into him -- for a moment, and -- "Go on."

"Okay. Just -- you're right. I didn't know them, and there are probably a lot of things they did for you that I just haven't found out about." But you would've mentioned it if they had, because you're *you*, and if even *Babs* is saying this stuff -- "It's. It's like Bruce said. It's not my place, and I'm sorry. I definitely shouldn't have thrown it at you like that just because you fucking *hinted* that maybe I wasn't dealing as much with my past as I thought I was."

She keeps staring for kind of a while, and then she looks at Bruce, who nods. "All right. I'm still angry, and I'm probably going to *be* angry for a while, but -- all right."

Jason blows out a breath. "And I'm *going* to think about it. My past, in my own time, like you said. I promise. Do you still... want space?"

"I -- less of it." Tim's smile is wry and kind of twisted, but it's there, and that's enough to let Jason reach, palm out -- She presses her palm against his own, pauses, and twines their fingers together.

Warm, *hard* hand, holding his tight. "Thank you. I really -- I needed this."

She nods and squeezes him before pulling back. "Let's train."

"Yeah," Jason says, and rubs his thumb against his palm for a moment. "I'll just start with my run --"

"Wait," she says, and the twisted smile is back --

"Yeah, baby?"

"I thought we could -- together. Outside."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Sunlight and everything?"

"Presumably. *I* haven't looked outside, yet --"

"It's warm and sunny," Bruce says, and smiles at both of them. "The two of you should enjoy it."

"Cool. So... a little later, Tim?"

She nods. "Bruce attempted to entice me to stay with the offer of learning a few new moves. It mostly worked."

Jason snorts. "*That* was your strategy, B?"

"I confess I was at something of a loss," he says, and rests his hand on Tim's shoulder. "It was that or offer to let her under the hood of the car."

"Also a reasonable ploy," she says, and -- casually -- brushes his hand away before looking up at him. "The mats?"

Bruce nods, and he doesn't *look* troubled about that little brush-off, but Jason would bet that he is, and -- well. If the only thing she could stand from him was holding hands for a minute... yeah.

Now Jason *knows* -- nothing can *be* too bad if she's letting him touch her. If she *isn't*... well, if he doesn't know what's wrong, he'd better learn it fucking quick.

Jason backs off and goes to tape his hands. One day, punch-therapy isn't going to work for him, but, until that day, he's going to use the fuck out of it.

He watches them move to the mats out of the corner of his eye, and places a mental image of the kid he used to be right at uppercut level. He's hollow-eyed and scared, but he's never going to let anyone know that if he can help it. He's dirty and hungry and *pissed*, and only the last thing is worth doing anything about -- no.

Being angry is the *only* thing the kid can do anything about or anything *with*. He's got nothing and no one, and so he tells himself that it's just fine, that it's better that way. And really, so what if he's angry? The world is a shithole, crawling with the worst kinds of vermin. Angry is the only way *to* be, because if you stop for even a minute, you maybe remember all the other feelings, the ones that don't do you a damned bit of good.

*Angry* lets you survive if you don't think about it too hard, lets you make it one more night. It covers you up all over so nothing can touch you -- and there's nothing this kid *wants* to touch him, not now that he's alone, anyway. And he's going to *be* alone, because that's just how it works, right?

That's what's inside him. That kid. This kid. Everything else is built right on top of him, and Jason would think --

Jason had thought, with the little part of his brain that he ever let *near* the kid, that all that everything would smother the kid, a little, crush him up small and tight until there might as well have been nothing there. All it would take is a little more time. Good food, good work, good *partner* -- and the girl of his dreams to round off everything nice and smooth.

It's just that it didn't work that way, not for him, and maybe not for anyone who actually survived long enough to get something like free of the streets. Of that *life* --

About a hundred yards behind him, his partner and his girl are trying out new and interesting ways to damage people that they'll never, ever use unless they have to. They're together, and Bruce will be doing everything he can to make things better for Tim. Because he loves her, and maybe needs her now as much as he needs Jason.

As much as Jason needs both of them.

Right now, they're not thinking of Jason at all, probably. But he'd lay money that they're thinking of *that* kid. The whole lot of nothing in his eyes, the rage that keeps him warm because nothing else can.

The things he can make Jason do.

It was never about Garzonas, or about any of the other assholes he'd hurt a little too much, or *let* get hurt a little too much. They were just there, as convenient as Tim had made herself today for the *kid*, for that *thing* inside him which really needs to --

Go away? Die? What happens when all of this falls apart, one way or another? That kid is *survival*, pure and simple, and it's not like he's living the safest fucking life in the world, here. People leave and people *die*. He's known that for years. One day some fucker is gonna get lucky and Bruce is gonna get dead.

One day Tim's going to figure out that she's *worth* someone who'll *never* hurt her -- she's got Babs and the Birds to *help* her with that -- and she'll be gone. Maybe with a punch, but probably with a kiss, because she loved him once, and wouldn't want him to hurt more than was *strictly* necessary.

People don't *last*, especially when it's good and warm and sweet, so doesn't he need that kid? Just for a rainy fucking *day*? Isn't it a little fucking *much* for them to *ask* him to ditch this kid?

What do *they* know about having a choice between going down or going hungry? Or, hey, maybe a nice group home where he could be robbed and raped for free. They don't know *shit* about that life, and they never will, so how fucking *dare* they --

They --

So maybe the eyes on that kid aren't hollow, at all. Maybe they're narrow and just a little sly. He's a *survivor*, and maybe that's *all* he can do, but he's really *fucking* good at it. But...

He's had tough opponents before.

Jason nods at the kid smirking at him from the weave of the bag.

And then he starts throwing punches.

*

"No," Bruce says, and taps her forearm with two fingers. "Stop trying to use the power you don't have instead of the precision you do."

Tim nods and frowns internally. They're still on the first strike when, by now, she should at least be perfecting the second. She was *trying* for speed more than power, but she has to admit that she was missing with both. It's just a *nerve* strike, and even Barbara had said that she was good at those, that she was all but *made* for them --

"Again," Bruce says, and this time she knows she's flubbed it before he says a word.

"I -- again?"

"Tim..." Bruce's voice is gentle, soft and -- horrifically inviting. *Welcoming*, when she'd hurt Jason, let *herself* go too far --

When Jason had told her *exactly* what he thought, and never mind how much of it he had taken *back* -- 

She needs to get her head back into the game, her *self* back in some kind of order, and not just because Bruce is looking at her like the only thing he wants to do is talk. She's had -- too much of this. Too much time to let all the weaker, softer parts of herself run *rampant* -- the image is of a flood of some thick, awful *syrup*, pouring over everything, getting *into* everything --

She growls and assumes the ready position once more, deliberately relaxing everything about herself until she's *only* this. Not Tim, and not really Batgirl, either -- unless Batgirl could ever be considered a weapon belonging to someone else --

Bruce puts his hand on her shoulder, and that's okay. That's -- she's just a weapon, now, and weapons need to be guided --

"I will stipulate that I've hardly the right to judge such things, but just the same -- this isn't healthy, Tim."

She's asked for -- all but *begged* for -- *just* this level of assumed intimacy with Bruce. She's pushed for it and flirted, teased, *taken* -- and shown him nothing but enjoyment. Her *pleasure*, which is something Bruce has proven himself to be deeply interested in, for all that he's in love with Jason and not her --

"Please. Would you. Would you talk to me?"

Tim winces and fights it back as much as she can. The urge to tighten her mouth and turn its corners down, to narrow her eyes and to, most of all, *flinch* from the touch to her shoulder, the warmth of it --

"I told Jason that I would only try to keep you here if you thought it was best, but if you're going to merely stand here pretending that you're not still angry, still hurt --"

"I *said* I was still angry," Tim says, standing straight and -- brushing Bruce's hand from her shoulder. "I'm not -- in any sort of denial."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at her, but nods. "Then -- for the sake of *efficiency*, Tim -- tell me why you're fighting so hard to deny the feeling. Or... are other feelings crowding --"

"*Yes*, I -- look, maybe we should save this for another time. I'll be fine on the bars, and I need to do something that will work me at least a little --"

"Distraction through exertion is a valid -- and valued -- coping mechanism in this house, but not one to which I'd have you become accustomed."

*That* -- Tim crosses her arms over her chest, again --

"I find it fascinating, as an aside, that you choose that position to express your deepest anger," Bruce says, and traces a line just beyond the bend of her right arm. He doesn't *touch*, but it's deeply -- enervating.

Just the same. "Bruce --"

"Some would say it implies a desire for control over your own movements -- even more than it implies a desire to comfort oneself. Do you find yourself *very* close to striking out at me?"

Closer by the *second* -- no. Bruce has done nothing but try to make things better for her and Jason, and it wouldn't do to forget that, no matter how *irritating* -- "You might at least consider allowing me the space to *feel* the emotions I'm currently beset with, Bruce. I've heard that that's the *healthy* thing to do," she says, and fixes him with a glare she'd learned from Barbara --

It makes him raise an eyebrow and reach out again, this time to where she's cupping her left elbow with her right hand. Again, he doesn't *touch*, but --

"Look, *Bruce*, this morning has been something of a roller coaster. I think you can agree with that...?"

He nods, and she nods back.

"Good. So -- give me time. *Room*."

"Happily -- on one condition."

She *doesn't* snarl. "You are *not* my teacher in any way save the practical, nor are you my partner --"

"But I have become your -- other -- lover, Tim, and I would... I find that I need your contentment, if not your happiness," Bruce says, and this time -- his hand is on her face, tilting it up so that she has to meet his eyes --

His eyes are *full*, open and worried and hungry and a dozen other things at *once*. Tim takes a deep breath and resists the urge to move closer, the attendant urge *to* strike, if only with her words -- Bruce has done *nothing* to her but ask -- *demand* -- "What is it, Bruce. I -- your condition."

And he smiles, a curve of the mouth that *implies*, and yes, *also* demands -- "Talk to me. Of inconsequential things, if you'd prefer. I'm not Jason -- I believe that I could survive your choosing to spend the day with Barbara instead of with us, but I would not do very well, at all, with watching you spend the day tearing at yourself within the privacy of your mind."

"You don't -- I wasn't."

If anything, his smile gets a little wider. "You're usually a better liar, Tim," he says, and strokes her cheek with his thumb. "Though I suppose I could be projecting. If Jason had said those sorts of things to me --"

"He *didn't*," she says, and it's a growl more than it's speech, but it's understandable *enough* --

"No, he didn't. You touched him where he was most... raw, and he lashed out. You know precisely how he feels about that --"

"I know what he *said*. He -- he meant it. Some of it. *Enough* of it --"

"You never say things you don't mean, Tim?"

"It's not *that* difficult to control one's speech. I -- I say things at the wrong times, and in the wrong ways, and sometimes I say things which never should be said at all, but --"

"But you would never lie to Jason -- save, perhaps, for those times when he asks you how you're feeling...?"

It has become something like an act of will not to knock Bruce's hand away, not to turn into it and hide, not to go for his eyes again, even knowing that he'll see the move coming and be able to deflect it, possibly throw her again -- hard enough to knock the breath from her body, the thoughts from her *head* --

*Jason*. Jason, who thinks she hates her own body, who has no reason *not* to think it. Jason, who knows how much that *affects* her, and who knows exactly how to hurt her, how to. He'd called her a bitch, and she was one. She *is* one, and isn't it really only dumb luck that she had, up to that point, only been one in the ways he found entertaining? She'll hurt him, again, one day. It will just come out, and whatever she says will be true enough to make him *bleed* --

And a part of her will find that satisfying. *Correct* -- even as the rest of her is sick and terrified and -- *sick*. She's not --

He loves her, and she knows it. It's a solid knot of a thing inside her, the pea under her mattress, or -- something else just that small and just that undeniable. He *loves* her, but that isn't enough to stop him from --

To keep her from *making* him --

"Tim."

An order, if a quiet one. Bruce has had years to grow accustomed to command and everything that comes with it, but *she* doesn't belong to that particular framework. She has her *own*, and maybe if she'd gone to Barbara and *stayed* there --

Bruce presses with his fingertips, just hard enough to *suggest* pain, and really... really. Tim laughs, softly, and meets his eyes again. He wants inconsequential things from her? All right. "Whose decision was it to give me a woman's bedroom suite?"

"Alfred's," Bruce says, and loosens his grip. He's still searching her, but really -- *let* him look.

Let him see what he can't touch -- Tim doesn't close her eyes, and she certainly doesn't squeeze them shut. But she can't keep herself from thinking about what it had been like to fall asleep in his bed, to give him that.

To give it to herself, and perhaps that's one of the things Bruce is finding on her face or behind her eyes, because he starts to stroke her face again, gentle and slow.

"You didn't question his decision?"

"I've learned that such things are far more trouble than they're worth, Tim," and a great deal of what's behind those words is a warning that she would be far better served by feeling the same way than she would be by striking out in her own direction.

There's nothing to that she can't agree with. Alfred is a man-shaped institution, going by everything Barbara has said, over the years, and -- what else? "Which outfit is your favorite of the ones you've chosen for me?"

Bruce smiles again, and something like a tease flashes briefly in his eyes. "I've only seen you in one of them."

She could try to deny the thing inside her which *only* wants to respond to that tease in kind, but that would only make Bruce try harder, right now, and she can't really --

Right now, Jason is punishing the hell out of the heavy bag, following it and moving, always moving. Light on his feet in the way he only seems to manage when he's *not* thinking about it, when all he's doing is living in his body.

*Jason* -- is managing to do something useful, while she is only standing here being petted, being *gentled* like some damned *horse* to Bruce's touch, when all she wants is to be alone, to have time to make herself better --

("You're no good to anyone.")

Pressure on her cheek, the faintest hint of actual pain -- "Bruce. You can't just -- I find behavioral psychology to be problematic at *best*."

"I suppose I shouldn't implement my program of small, direct electric shocks, then."

Tim swallows back the laugh and looks down at the floor, feels herself *blushing* and tries -- tries.

"Tim. Small things. Not every conversation must be meaningful."

"And yet that's what you'd rather *have*," she says, and catches her breath. "You want me to just -- bare my *soul* to you --"

"I'd rather attempt to take the things which hurt you, though that would be easier if you would show me where they are --" 

"You *know* where they are -- I." Tim takes a deep breath and looks up again, searches him and finds *patience*, desire and hurt -- "It's the need in you that attracts, more than anything else. I could probably talk all day about your physical attractiveness, your generosity, your brilliant mind -- and certainly all of those things are compelling -- but, in the end, you're *needy*. Grasping and hungry, demanding even when your conscious mind fights against being anything of the kind. You *hurt*, Bruce --"

"And so," he says, "do you." And he moves his hand from her face -- he strokes her forehead and her eyebrows, the cheek he'd been neglecting and her chin. "Though I would not say that the pain and need in you attract more than your other qualities."

"I --"

"It is, perhaps, the same level of attraction."

She is, of course, blushing again. Perhaps it's something she'll grow out of... at around the same time she starts needing to shave her face, and no, she's not going to think about that, at all. "I. Try not to be demanding."

"You drive Jason to greater and greater heights of creativity in his efforts to make you be so."

She *forces* him -- she grips her elbows and resists the urge to look down again. "I never want to make things difficult for him. Not in any -- real way."

"And Batgirl isn't real?"

"I. All right, I phrased that the wrong way. I never want to make things difficult for him in ways he won't *enjoy*."

Bruce nods and touches her beneath her ear. The slightest pressure -- and a stroke down the side of her throat. "We're moving away from the inconsequential."

Tim feels the smile twitch itself on and off her face. "So we are. I can't -- I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about the things he said."

"You take all criticism directly to heart, whether or not that criticism is well meant."

"As that was, Bruce...?" She tilts her head to the side. "How do you deal with it? How do you keep from... tearing at yourself?"

Bruce's smile is slow and lingering, but more sweet than sharp. "Do you truly need to ask?"

The hollow in Bruce, the *need* -- "No. No, I suppose I don't. But. Why -- how is it that you can keep *touching* me?"

Bruce looks -- surprised. And somewhat incredulous, and --

All right, she's blushing harder, now. "No, not -- I meant... you clearly feel a *need* to touch me. If you were still trying to offer comfort, you'd still be gripping my shoulder, perhaps resting a hand on my arm --"

"Assuming, of course, that you made your arms available for anything of the kind --"

Tim waves a hand -- and gets surprised by the *relief* of not keeping that arm folded anymore. It's purely physical, and it implies a great deal about the pressure she was holding on to herself with. All right. She lets her arms drop to her sides and shakes them out a little --

"Are you offering?"

"Only incidentally," she says, and reaches up to touch the fingers that are on her throat -- her pulse point. "You know what I meant. How can you *bring* yourself to give in to that, when I haven't even -- *Jason* always invites."

"You," Bruce says, and his smile is wry again. "Keep that in mind."

"I -- yes. But --"

"In answer to your question -- you're quite sparing with your own physical invitations when you're not making love. *Jason* -- has learned to take. Or perhaps that's something you've taught him...?"

Jason, spinning her around to face him -- Tim winces. "I normally give him no reason to assume that his touches won't be welcome, in one way or another."

Bruce nods. "You rejected my attempts to offer comfort, Tim. It was... imperative to discover if you would reject this, as well," and he presses his thumb against her chin.

That... well. "I could question your timing."

"We have, perhaps, both learned to take such things when they're offered -- if not always to take when they're merely available."

Tim sighs and gives herself a moment just to feel the light pressure of Bruce's fingers, just to --

She watches Bruce's eyes change, darken and deepen a little, and she knows that he could feel her... feeling him. And... what of it? Isn't it at least something like what she's supposed to do?

Jason wants --

Jason wants her to have this, and she wants to have it, too. Though she doesn't want to give Bruce... something. She doesn't really have the words to describe it. It's just -- the thing that follows anger, the relief of that *one* moment, close enough now that she can feel it *coming* --

Bruce rubs up to her lower lip with his thumb. "Would you tell me?"

"I'm -- feeling better," she says, and smiles ruefully. "I'm not entirely sure how that *worked*, but I'm willing to ascribe it to the power of... inconsequential things."

"Tim, I'd like to..." Bruce takes a breath, audible and -- deep, not harsh. "Your touch, last night. The way you pressed against me in the moments before you fell asleep..."

And she knows -- Bruce wants a hug. From her. *Specifically* from her, but -- not yet. Not -- "I need to -- give me a moment?"

Bruce nods and never looks away from her eyes as he backs away, lets *go* in a way that feels profound, *severe* -- the other touches had felt so *casual*, or... perhaps she means *sure*. Tim swallows against the rising thing inside her, the *good* thing, and she squeezes Bruce's hand.

And then she turns and goes to Jason, watching the way he's both following and avoiding the bag, the way he's moving and striking. A flurry when she's close enough to smell a hint of his sweat, and then he stops, holding the bag still and panting a little --

"Baby...?"

"I need to -- be close to you. Just for a moment," she says, and thinks about raising her arms, thinks about moving a little closer -- if he needs the bag, right now, he needs the *bag*, and that's all there is to it.

His expression is both troubled and distant, and she can't really be *sure* what he's thinking about, but -- she thinks she can guess.

"If that's all right --"

"Oh, fuck, baby," he says and steps away from the bag, cups her face and strokes her cheekbones, searches her -- "You sure? This is okay?"

"I feel... ah. Bruce has been helpful," she says, and Jason's hands are almost hot against her, damp with sweat. The scent of him is heavy and thick, familiar in all the best ways -- "My hips?"

Jason grins, and it's like -- Barbara and Dinah have both spoken a great deal about *Dick's* smiles, and the power of them, but she knows that Jason's are better. Especially this one, and the way it gets a little wider before he kisses her --

And the *good* thing inside her expands, heats her in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the way that the tape sounds when he brushes a hand over her hair, with the way she can feel his sweat when he *does* grab her hips and pull her close --

"Love you, baby, love you like -- fucking air. Ice cream. Fast cars and faster bikes. Blood on my gauntlets --"

"Jay," she says, because it's everything, and kisses the spot on his jaw where he'll bruise from her punch, bites him there and presses *closer* --

"We're okay. We -- we're okay?"

Tim nods and wraps her arms tight around his neck. "I need you."

"You got me. For as long as you want, and a good long while after that, too," and Jason kisses her forehead and squeezes her hips. "I'll never leave you."

"Don't -- I."

"Don't make promises like that?" Jason sighs and pulls back enough to look at her. "Maybe you should think of it as a *threat*."

Nothing lasts forever. *Nothing* does -- and there's something in Jason's eyes that says he knows that. Of course he does, but -- she doesn't *want* him to know it --

And he doesn't want her to know it, either. "I love you."

"Mm, do me a favor?"

"Of course --"

"Next time I hurt you, fucking *break* my nose for me. Give me something to *think* about so I never do it again."

"I --" Tim raises an eyebrow. "I just don't see the benefit for *me* in making you less attractive, Jason."

Jason lets go of her hip and presses down on the tip of her nose. "Could just add character, baby. A little hint of *danger*. Trust me -- chicks love that."

She doesn't splutter, but it's a pretty near thing, and -- she can feel Bruce somewhere behind her, feel him watching and not *having*. "I... I need to go back to Bruce now."

"You were talking for kind of a while. I just *bet* you're itching to get back to training," he says, and traces a domino around her eyes.

Tim blushes. "Well, that, and -- I had to give you the *first* hug. While I was still -- while it was still something *in* me. If that makes any sense?"

Jason blinks and smiles ruefully. "You're getting real close to him. That's -- I like that."

"Even when you don't?"

"Even when I don't, yeah, *just* like that," and Jason brings his other hand back down to her hip, lifting her against him a little -- "God, anyone would need to touch you, baby. Five fucking *minutes* talking to you and I needed it."

"You -- the feeling is mutual. Except that I didn't actually need to *talk* to you first."

Jason's smile gets wide again. "Surveillance equals love? Does that mean Babsy thinks I got it goin' on?"

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Well. She *did* mention something along the lines of what might have happened if you were a little older and she were a little younger."

This time, Jason blinks several times and looks... satisfyingly poleaxed. "Uh. Uh?"

Tim laughs and squeezes with her arms. "She wouldn't be satisfied with our relationship if it wasn't clear that I had... the best."

"Heh. Yeah, well... no, I'm stuck on uh. *You* saw her when she was Batgirl --"

"She was beautiful, bright and *perfect*. I have a lot of photographs, but they never did her justice. I was upset when Dick stopped being Robin, because it seemed as though she should always have... someone like that. They *matched*," she says, and smiles ruefully. "In my head, anyway."

"I always kind of wondered about that. It was pretty much all said and done by the time I came along -- Dick was a *Titan*, full stop, and Kory's boyfriend, too -- but... yeah. I knew about Batgirl and Robin. What it was *supposed* to mean."

"Barbara seems... well. She talked about being much older than Dick, about how that meant that she *couldn't* really be with him the way I always thought they were."

"The way Dick wanted -- *that* much I know," Jason says, and strokes the hollows of her hips with his thumbs. "*We* make Batgirl and Robin right."

"I -- yes. Yes, we do."

Jason nods and grins, just as sharp and hard as Robin --

Which means she has to grin right back -- showing her teeth and switching her hips once, twice --

"My girl... what does Bruce need from you, do you think?"

"Ah... touch. Contact. Like last night, I think. Are you..." She frowns a little --

And Jason reaches up to rub it off her face, leans in to kiss her briefly -- "I want you all to myself *right* up until I remember how I feel about Bruce, how much I love him and need him... well," and Jason shrugs a little.

Tim closes her eyes for a moment. "Sometimes I wonder if... if it's easier for you to let me have him than it is for you to have him yourself."

"That's part of it, yeah --"

"And then... I wonder how you'll feel when you *can* deal with having Bruce for yourself, Jay. About me -- and about me and Bruce."

Jason frowns. "Hey, didn't I say I'd never leave you? Look, I -- *I'm* not sure how it works in me, but just because it *will* get easier for me to be around Bruce like this -- because of everything we do *together* -- doesn't mean it'll stop being good with *us*. And for you and Bruce, too. You get closer to him all the time, and that just makes all of us *stronger*."

She'd like to believe that -- more. She'd like to *live* in that. It's a small and beautiful world, where everything will always be *okay* among the three of them -- or at least could always be *made* okay. "I want... I never want you to think that you don't come first for me --"

"Hey, *you* don't make promises like that."

"Jay --"

"In *my* happy world, Tim? We *both* come first for you, and it works that way all around --"

"I don't think. Jay, I'm reasonably sure humans don't work that way very often."

"Yeah, so? We're special, special people, baby -- and I *watch* you with B. The way you let him touch you, the way you lean in, a little, when he's saying something that makes you wanna laugh..."

Lean in? She -- really? "I --"

He squeezes her hips *hard* --

"I'm listening."

And Jason's smile is broad and relaxed, honestly *happy* -- "He's my partner. And when the two of you are making each other happy... well, that means *my* world is better. At least, that's my theory of how it all works. You're the two most important people in my life, and I need you both like crazy. Just don't forget about me, and we'll be fine."

Tim pushes her hands into Jason's hair, and wonders what would happen if she just decided to *believe* in Jason's way of doing things. Bruce... he'd said he needed her, and Bruce isn't the sort of person who can lie about that. Everything he *does* has need woven through it, and -- and. "It's easy to believe in Bruce's... need."

"It's right there for you, clear as day. I mean, I can see it, too, but... it's all wrapped up with other things for me, I think. He never wanted *you* to be his kid."

Tim nods, and tugs on Jason's hair a little. "I... all right. I'll just... go with it. But you have to tell me if I'm... I don't know. Neglecting you, maybe?"

"Why? So you can show Bruce that he's second best?" Jason's still smiling, but he shakes his head. "No way. I'm gonna be an *adult* about this, baby. And about other things, too, while I'm at it," he says, and there's a little distance in his eyes.

Something Tim can't touch, and she'd be lying to herself if she even tried to think that wasn't frightening, but... but. There are things in all of them which can't ever belong to anyone else.

And Jason comes back to her soon enough, squeezing her hips again and pulling her up onto her toes. "He's been watching us the whole time, you know. Not even trying to hide it."

Tim smiles. "That would perhaps explain the slight burning sensation between my shoulder blades."

"Burning, hunh? For me it's always more of an *itch*."

"Mm. We should ask him to invent an ointment for it. I'm quite sure he'd enjoy applying it."

Jason snickers and kisses her forehead again. "Yeah, go with *that*. He'll love it."

"I -- all right. You planning on beating up the bag any more?"

"Nah, I won't get much out of it without someone to hold it for me. I'm gonna hit the pommel horse before I lose my mind entirely and make Bruce have it bronzed for posterity."

Tim snorts hard enough to hurt herself -- "I. Oh... dear."

"Heh. Yeah, *that*. And let me just say -- anytime you want us to bend you over *anything* -- *anywhere* -- please do let us know. We're *there* for you, baby."

A part of Tim wants to look down for that. Another part wants to blush and apologize, stammer and deny -- pretty much freak out entirely. Jason thinks she only wants to be punished, that she -- Tim laughs, softly and pushes her face against Jason's shoulder.

"Tell me?"

"A moment of the sort of neurosis Barbara -- and you, and Bruce -- thinks I would do better without. At the moment, I'm entirely in agreement."

"Well, *that's* good," and Jason strokes up to her back and pets her. "There is *nothing* wrong with our sex life in general, or with how you *get* when we're fucking specifically."

"Mm. Except for my discomfort with my genitals."

"You're getting better every day. Every *time* we do it. And you know it."

She does, and that's the sort of problem that she's not really allowed to think of as a problem. Perhaps, with time... something. Tim sighs and pushes away from Jason. "Noted."

"Come get me when you're ready for our run?"

Tim nods and smiles, letting Batgirl out for long enough that she can twist out of Jason's grip and dance backward on her toes. Jason watches her go, and keeps watching when she does turn around. She can, as always, feel it. 

Just as she can feel Bruce the closer she gets to him. There's an interview Superman had given with his wife in which he talked about becoming a vegetarian because of the auras he could see around all living things, and Tim has always wondered if the auras are stronger with some people. Jason's would almost have to be -- everything about him is so large and *vivid*. Bruce would be another like that, albeit in different ways.

He can be less than a shadow when he wants to be, but when he's relaxed -- or feeling that *need* within him -- all of him comes through. He's surrounded by vicious thorns -- turned in on himself, of course -- and the thorns are surrounded by a wall to keep everyone out -- well. Not everyone.

Probably not *her*, and Tim can't help but think about what it must mean to Bruce to *let* her in. Jason was already inside, of course -- Bruce is almost certainly incapable of keeping him out -- but he has always been welcoming to her in the most personal possible ways -- even when he was doing his best to avoid being in her and Jason's presence. And --

She's there, close enough that she has to crane her neck back to see into his eyes and close enough to smell him. A milder scent than Jason's, at the moment, but she knows how much that can change with only a few hours of work. He's looking at her with a pleasure which seems uncomplicated, as if Tim doesn't have to do anything other than exist in order to make him happy.

It's a look Jason has on his face quite often, and it always makes her a little twitchy, if she's going to be perfectly honest with herself. There's a part of her which wants to scramble for any bits of Batgirl she can call to herself -- more of her than it took for her to be *this* close, anyway -- and...

He wants to be touched.

Tim reaches for his hand and brushes her knuckles against his palm, back and forth until Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"You could consider holding it."

"Your hand alone...?" The tease is back in his voice. The -- invitation.

"It's a start," she says, and drags the surface of her fingernails up and down Bruce's fingers.

"And what would be the finish?"

What do you want -- no, that's a little too *direct* for the moment. "I suppose we would have to work that out, Bruce."

"Certainly, negotiation is an important aspect of any successful relationship," and he catches her fingers between his own and his thumb, holding them still and stroking, lightly.

Tim tilts her head to the side. "More or less important than trauma?"

Bruce hums and lifts her hand to his mouth, exhaling warm against her fingers before kissing once -- twice. "Are you asking me to speak from experience?"

Tim would like, very badly, to know exactly who Bruce's lovers have been. There would've had to be at least one for him to speak the way he does, and whoever it had been had almost certainly caused pain, and a need to retreat from that part of life entirely. Jason would've mentioned if there had been anyone during his time as Robin, and... four years. Four years plus however long it had been *before* that --

"Tim...?"

"I'm not -- going back to being upset," she says, and smiles ruefully --

"No, you were thinking very deeply about something you found troubling," he says, and it's *almost* a question. Not quite enough of one for comfort --

Life still isn't about comfort. She smiles a little wider. "I was considering the nature of your... experience, Bruce. I don't think I could... I'm not sure what I would be like if I were alone for --"

"You should never be alone," and the tone of his voice makes the words into an order, something to follow with all of herself lest dire consequences occur.

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't planning on it. The universe doesn't often concern itself with the plans of individuals."

"We make our own worlds," Bruce says, and tugs her hand over to his shoulder before letting go.

Tim sets it down there and squeezes, reflexively searching for the tension she can *feel* from Bruce --

"I enjoyed massaging your back, Tim," and he cups her waist, strokes and squeezes --

Mm. "You have any number of skills at your disposal that I find... compelling."

"Does Jason ever massage your feet?"

"Ah -- he has, in the past."

"Something I have yet to see for myself." A *request* for invitation, or just a request, full stop?

Tim smiles and brings her other arm up, wraps them around Bruce's neck and pushes up on her toes --

Bruce hums and squeezes her again. "Thank you."

"I..." She's blushing. There's a sense of sexuality here, but it isn't quite *focused* in any one direction, as if there would be no way to tell which actions would count as escalation. And yet Bruce seems entirely calm, still *pleased* -- perhaps she means 'satisfied,' to some degree or another. "Jason... he always seems inclined to focus on my pressure points."

"A difficult temptation to resist. Do you moan for him when he does it?"

"The first time was on the street. I was undercover --"

"The heels would've been entirely inadequate."

Tim nods and strokes the back of Bruce's neck, thinks about pushing closer, dragging her face against Bruce's chest -- "I didn't moan -- then. It was a challenge."

Bruce nods slowly, and generally gives the impression that that was information he'd needed, and was pleased to -- finally -- receive.

"Is this... is it the contact you wanted, Bruce?"

"Some of it," and Bruce's eyes are narrow and amused, skin crinkled at the corners --

"Is there a... joke?"

"Only," he says, and squeezes her waist again, "at my own expense. There seems to be no end to my desires for you and for Jason. My... cravings. Still, there remains the fact that you find that weakness to be attractive. I have rarely felt both grateful to and disgusted with myself."

*That* joke is painful enough that Tim thinks she should be feeling the claws of it tearing at *her*, but right now there is only warmth, and a somewhat paradoxical feeling of safety. What will happen when Jason feels this for himself? When he's able to *allow* himself this feeling --

"Tim." And Bruce releases her waist with one hand and uses it to stroke -- her frown line.

"You could consider --"

"Many, many things."

"I -- ah." Tim laughs and shakes her head, causing Bruce's fingers to drag against her forehead. "I was only going to say that there *will* be times when I think about other things, Bruce. And this -- this should be in a bed."

"Do you feel indolent?"

Does she? "I feel warm. And -- appreciated, I think would be the best way to put it."

"You are. I have no difficulty whatsoever with understanding Barbara's urge to be with you at all times," he says, and strokes down to her earlobe, pinching it between his fingers and tugging lightly.

That's -- "Her communicators are better. And I'd... there were a lot of times when I've wished I could have her in my ear."

"Wisdom, experience... care," and Bruce strokes the shell of Tim's ear slowly enough that Tim has to narrow her eyes a little -- he stops.

"Ah. Bruce?"

"Desire, again," and he frowns, starts to step back --

Tim tightens her grip on Bruce's neck. "That's -- you really don't have to. I mean, Jason and I spend a great deal of time arousing each other when we have no intention of... taking things to their logical conclusion."

Bruce squeezes her waist with one hand and drags the fingers of the other down to her throat. "I didn't intend for this to be... sexual."

"You're just noticing that it is? Because -- really, Bruce --"

"Your responses were -- had been -- innocent of... intent."

Yes? She looks back over the past few minutes and... all right. For certain Bruce-specific definitions of innocent -- and yes, she *does* remember that that had included his hand *around* her throat. She laughs again and scratches at the back of Bruce's neck --

"Tim."

"We both know that we have more training to do, Bruce. *You* can control yourself. And enjoy yourself at the same time."

He presses two fingers to her pulse and takes a deep breath -- inhales her. "You seem very sure about that."

"If *I* can do it --"

Then she can be lifted, *hitched* against Bruce, dragged against his body -- a moment of thrill, of fear and *discomfort* as their jocks bump against each other -- kissed, and --

There's some question to it. She's incapable -- at least at this moment -- of not believing in Bruce's desire for her, but really... is he proving a point again? Perhaps seeing how far he can *push* the fact that she finds his needs attractive? Perhaps...

Perhaps *just* kissing her, at least for *this* moment, holding her up off the floor and licking her tongue, stroking her hair --

Shifting his grip on her enough that she could -- if she wished -- wrap her legs around him again, and thus almost certainly precipitate any number of non-training-related activities. Jason would *not* take long to join them, and really -- she can *feel* him watching them, knowing them with some portion of his senses as much as they've both been watching and knowing Jason work himself on the pommel horse.

Beauty, *power* --

Bruce hums and sucks her lower lip for a moment before pulling back and raising an eyebrow which seems... distinctly rueful.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"While it's true that your focus is admirable, I confess that I find myself somewhat chagrined."

Well...

("Aww, *c'mon*, baby, that had to work for you at least a *little* bit...")

The blush feels rather dire, as these things go, but -- "In my defense, Bruce --"

"You need none."

"Still -- you *were* in the process of teaching me several nasty new things before my issues interrupted us."

"I'm going to enjoy... shopping, for your birthday."

Tim -- blinks. "Excuse me, but did you *intend* for that to be a threat?"

Bruce sets her down on her feet, steps back, and gestures toward the mats.

Batgirl considers a kick that, lacking her heels, would not be *truly* damaging...

"As much as I would enjoy it, I believe Jason feels it's his turn to spar with you, Tim."

"And my feelings don't matter, Bruce...?"

Heat in his eyes, sudden and -- deeply affecting. He really might've assumed that she was being neurotic again, and it's very, very good that he hadn't.

Perhaps he was reading the truth in her eyes. Tim shifts, a little. Enough to *suggest* a certain ready position, one that has little to do with the strikes he was teaching...

Bruce shows his teeth -- but doesn't move into a ready position of his own.

"Hmph. Now who's being... focused?"

"I've always thought that teaching well required the ability to *learn*. Tim."

Tim shows her own teeth, but inclines her head. "As you say," she says, and slips into the *correct* ready position. "Again?"

"Again."

*

It was a little weird walking through the manor in their workout clothes, but once they're outside...

Damn. *How* long has it been since he's been out in the sun, exactly? It can't be since the school year ended. Can it?

Tim's looking like she's wondering the same thing -- and blinking kind of adorably while she's at it, and... hunh. She's pretty damned pale, and always has been, to the best of *his* knowledge. "Should we have gotten you some sunblock?"

"I -- possibly," she says, and smiles ruefully. "Perhaps we'll run through the wooded areas?"

Jason nods. "We can do that. I probably need a little time to adjust to all this Vitamin D, anyway."

Tim laughs and -- fucking *kicks* up into a stretch.

"Jesus, baby, *warn* a guy."

She presses her cheek against her calf and pushes up onto her toe -- "You really should be getting used to this by now, Jay."

"Uh, *no*. Sunlight exception in *full* effect."

"There's a sunlight exception?" And she drops her foot flat, drops her leg and rocks on her heels before kicking up the *other* leg --

"There -- totally is. Christ, I need to bend you in half more often."

Tim's smile is sharp and *sweet* -- "You *need* to stretch."

"Okay, okay, I hear you. Let me soak up these rays a little bit more first. Man, I almost feel guilty for enjoying it so much."

"Mm. Barbara suggested I drag you out more often. Not just onto these ridiculously beautiful grounds, either."

Jason stretches his back until it pops and then moves into a quad stretch. "Yeah? Like... into the city or something?"

"Mm-hm. We could... ah. Date."

And that -- he grins. "Dinner and a movie, baby? Carriage-ride through the park?"

"Perhaps," she says, and stretches her own quads, "there'd be a mugging we could stop."

"Heh, no way. *Dates* are different. Special. You could dress up, shove me into one of those fucking *terrifyingly* expensive suits..."

"Oh -- ooh. You always rumple those so *attractively*."

"It's a gift. Hell, do you -- *have* you ever dated anyone?"

Tim shakes her head and bounces up on her toes a few times. "I was never really... I mean, there were friendly acquaintances in school, and I've felt some measure of attraction for one or two of them --"

"Anyone I can hit?"

Tim snorts. "Down, boy. Tim Drake, quietly normal boy, had very *straight* friends. And..." She shakes her head. "I could never really imagine being with a civilian."

"Not even for a quickie?"

"A -- quickie." Tim *looks* at him from under her lashes. "I think you overestimate the power of my libido when it's not confronted with highly-trained vigilantes."

He -- really is. Kind of a lot, but -- "Still, baby. It can't have *all* been me for you --"

"And why not?"

And that -- it really could be a kind of *dangerous* question, but she's smiling at him again. Loving at him, really, and --

Jason leans in and kisses her, quick and soft... and then not so quick, because she's got one hand in his hair and she's holding on *nice* and tight. He can't taste Bruce on her, but he thinks he can -- almost -- feel him. Like a tease she's not hitting *him* with, or --

Something. He pulls back and *grins* back. "Why not is because you are, actually, a teenager -- somewhere in there -- and you're supposed to be lusting all over the place."

"I got lucky the first time," she says, quiet and -- so *good*, but --

"*Seriously*, Tim. I -- kinda need to know."

"Well, how much *would* you freak out if I told you that Barbara used to share footage of Dick, too?"

Dick working out, Dick flying, Dick bending and flipping and fucking *twisting* --

"The operative words being 'used to.' You were Robin, and I was going to be Batgirl one day, and -- I don't know. He seemed too much... older? Maybe?"

Jason smiles ruefully. "Like maybe he wouldn't be interested in your hot jailbait ass, you mean?"

For a moment, her smile is both distant and kind of thoughtful, but then she looks at him again and her eyes just *flash* --

"Yeah, BG?"

"*Everyone* wants me," she says, and cocks her head to the side. "I thought you knew that already."

"Oh, baby, you gotta let me beat up *someone* you're attracted to. I got an *itch*," he says, and stalks up *nice* and close --

"Poor baby needs a scratch?"

"Ooh -- damn, now I'm thinkin' about Catwoman. Okay, scratch *that*."

Tim laughs -- almost giggles, really, and shoves at Jason's chest a little. "Purple isn't really my color," and she sets off in a jog.

Jason watches her move for a few moments -- she runs like a *runner*, and there's no gender in it at all -- and then follows, moving up beside her. "Definitely not Dick?"

"This is where I *could* be asking what it is about Dick that makes you this... *potentially* jealous."

He *has* kind of poked her about Dick a lot. Multiple times, even, but -- "He was the first, baby. And he's *still* the best -- who isn't Bruce, anyway. You *like* competence."

"And passion --"

"He's *got* passion. All over the place with the fucking passion --"

"And danger --"

"He's pretty dangerous if you push him the wrong way --"

Tim growls and punches his arm --

"Hey --

"He's not *you*. And... I don't know. Having met him... he's kind of. Well, he's very friendly, and certainly attractive --"

"This is what I'm *saying*, Tim --"

"You. You're *confusing* me," she says, and runs a little faster --

Jason picks up the pace. "I know, I'm sorry, but --"

"How the *hell* could you all but *shove me onto Bruce's penis* and still get this... this freaked *out* about someone I've never even thought about kissing?"

"Never? I -- okay, and technically I *did* shove you onto Bruce's dick a few times, but to be fair you were pretty out of it at the time --"

Tim *growls*. "Okay, fine, I'll think about it for you. Your mouth is more lush than his --"

"Lush? Really?"

"Shut *up*, it is. But -- all right. The way he *moves* his mouth when he talks, the way he moves his whole body, or -- even the way he sits still. There's a sense of him *wanting* to be in motion, and that would imply that he'd kiss very -- passionately. Possibly press close almost immediately, *move* against me. And I suppose he *is* very flexible. We could bend each other into various interesting shapes, work through the entire Kama Sutra, etcetera.

"He likes telling jokes, likes to *laugh* judging by the lines on his face, so perhaps I'd be playful with him, tease him the way you like to be teased, only more so, because I'd be playing for a different audience. Presumably a more *patient* audience. He *is* older and more experienced."

"Uh -- um. Baby?"

She doesn't pause, slow down, or even look at him. "A body like his... well, I suppose I'd have to *worship* a little. Touch him all over. *Taste* him all over --"

"Jesus, I -- fuck, you don't have to -- I mean, I don't want you to --"

"You don't want me to *what*? Want him? But you *do*, Jay. Some part of you would actually feel *better* if I wanted him, and don't even *try* to deny it."

Jason -- keeps running. Thinks about it, really tries to... it's just that it would be *natural* for her to want Dick. Hell, she wants *Bruce* -- wants him a *lot* -- and it's not that the two of them are really alike or anything, but --

"You... oh, Jay, I really *am* confused. Because -- it does and *doesn't* feel like the things you've said about Bruce and me, the things you say you *want*, and I --" This growl feels a little more inner-directed, but it's still an *order* to sit up and take notice.

"I -- shit. I think I'm maybe... kind of attracted to him."

Tim doesn't miss a step in any way save for the *look* on her face --

"Not that I would -- he's not. I don't want a *relationship* with him or anything like that. I don't even want to have sex with him, because he's fucking *family*, and that would be asking for it in so many ways I can't even *deal* --"

"*Bruce* is family --"

"Bruce is my *partner*, though. Dick *used* to be Bruce's partner, but it's not like -- there's Batman and Robin, and now there's Batman and Robin and Batgirl. Nightwing's not really a part of that," Jason says, and reaches out to stroke her arm a little. "I'm not --"

"You. Jay... are you going to be like this about everyone you're attracted to? Pushing me at them *first*?"

"I'm not *pushing*, baby. I really *don't* want you hooking up with Dick, even though I *know* he'd make you enjoy the hell out of it, because he's *Dick* --"

"Jesus, Jay. You are..." And Tim laughs, sudden and absolutely real. It's not as light as those giggles earlier, but it's a lot brighter than he'd expected.

"Tim..."

"I'm sorry, I just realized that I was about to tell you that you had *issues*, and that's... really *very* amusing. To me, anyway."

Well... Jason snorts and shakes his head. "Trust me when I say I *know* I have issues. And I'll... try to maybe cope with the fact that part of me really *does* want Dick's sweet ass."

"It *is* a very nice ass."

"God, baby --"

"From a purely aesthetic standpoint," she says, and grins at him -- the grin slips, a little, though.

"Hey, what is it?"

"Is this going to be a problem? I mean, I was planning on going up to New York this weekend --"

"Take me *with* you --"

"Forgive me, Jason, but experience suggests that leaving you *here* would be the best way to avoid random sexual experiences with multiple partners."

Jason winces. "I'm not -- he wouldn't -- he's got *Kory*."

"Who, apparently, has offered at least once to have a threesome with Barbara."

Images. Serious -- and a lot of them. A *lot* of them. Many, many -- "Okay, that was probably more than once. But see, that's my point."

"I'm listening. Warily, but I'm listening."

"As far as I know, Dick hasn't agreed to *any* threesomes -- and he really would've mentioned that to me, because he's Dick, and that's just the kind of thing that comes out of his mouth if you don't watch him like a fucking *hawk*..."

"I'll -- take your word on that," Tim says, and takes them off the trail into a wooded area that probably hasn't ever been logged.

It takes a little more focus to run through without tripping, but the trees are big enough and old enough that there isn't much undergrowth to get snagged on. Good place for running, really, and -- yeah. "Anyway, he's had Kory *on* him about that, because that's just who *she* is. So -- it wouldn't come up."

"Honestly, this just feels like we're *asking* for it to happen. *I do not want to have sex with your older brother*."

"Well, that's -- it's not like you wouldn't be able to say *no*, baby -- oh."

"Yes, *oh*. You're really *fucking* persuasive when you've got an erection, Jay, and -- just give me a little time to get to know them on my own?"

It's an honest request -- it's almost a *plea*. And he has to own up to the fact that he really is *completely* irrational. She *wouldn't* do anything with them, and certainly not with those kids they want her to lead, because that's not who *she* is. Just because *he* thinks Dick is incredible... "Heh, I... I just remembered the way he was trying to touch you when the two of you met."

"Oh, *Jay* --"

"No, I know. You brushed him off nice and politely. *Twice*. He probably didn't even know he was flirting until you did. You're the only person I've *ever* seen brush Dick off."

"You... he flirts with you often?"

"With *everyone*, all the time. He *doesn't* mean it ninety-nine percent of the time, but he's... hell, I don't know. I once spent a weekend with him trying to figure out if he wanted to suck my dick or just *really* wanted a hug."

Tim leaps over a fallen tree that Jason would just as soon run around -- "Did you figure it out?"

"It was the hug," Jason says. "He's touchy-feely in pretty much *every* way, and... God, *why* are we still talking about Dick?"

"Jay... *is* it only the men you're attracted to who... twist you up this much?"

His turn to very carefully not miss a step and very thoroughly *not* think about that question, or why she would *ask* that question, or -- "Fucking A, Tim, warn a guy."

"I -- sorry. It just... occurred to me. We can talk about something else."

"No, I'm okay. Just -- reflex to shut the hell down. I hate doing that around you."

She turns to smile at him a little, gentle and inviting and *open* --

"Love you, baby. And -- hell. Maybe? Kind of? This is just a *theory*, but I'm betting that it would've been good for me to deal with being bi *before* I started hustling."

"Oh... well. Yes, probably."

Jason snorts and bumps her with his shoulder. "I'm okay. I spent a lot of time thinking today, and yeah, I have *giant* issues, but I'm *going* to deal with every last fucking one of them."

"I believe you," she says, and he can *hear* the relief in her voice, the way it goes way deeper than this conversation, than this *moment*.

"You... definitely want to leave me home this weekend?"

"Barbara... she pointed out that how likely it would be that I'd try to hide behind you, let you take the lead when Batgirl really shouldn't do anything of the kind..." She sighs. "She's right."

"Hey, I'd *let* you do your thing, baby --"

"I know. But this first time -- there are a *lot* of them, and none of them really know what I can *do* --"

"They know you're *Batgirl*. That's all that matters."

"Yes, I know. And it will be *easier* to keep that in mind if Robin isn't there. He's a pretty distracting guy."

Jason sighs. "Yeah, okay, I admit it -- I just don't want to let you go for a whole weekend."

"Absence makes the --"

"Dick get harder? Yeah, pretty much," Jason says, and grins at her. "I can still *call* you, right?"

Tim grins. "If you don't, I'll surely pine away to a wispy shadow of myself."

"And we *can't* have that."

They take the rest of the run without speaking, pushing a little until they're sweaty and breathing hard, until Jason can see Tim relaxing into the light burn of it the way Jason had to spend time learning how to do.

She looks like she really *enjoys* running, just letting her body go with it, and Jason tries to take her example. He gets a lot of thinking done when he's running, but it's not like that's always been the best thing in the world.

Right now, though, all he has to think about is Tim, and the way he can smell her a little when the trees force them closer together, the way she seems so *relaxed*. Maybe content. For a little while there he hadn't thought he'd have anything like this again, that he'd gone just that far over the line.... but Bruce was there, and while he gets why *she* doesn't get the reasoning behind him wanting them together, there *is* reasoning there.

They can make things easier for each other, step in and give each other what they need when one of them misses a step, and that's all over and above the *sex*, which...

Heh. He can see it. One night they'll come in from one of their soon-to-be-actually-happening *dates*, and Bruce'll be right there waiting, maybe waiting to get peeled out of one of those Bruce Wayne suits -- or.

Maybe Tim would *like* the suit. She's a classy kind of girl, little rich girl, no matter how her parents came up. That's probably *why* she likes the kind of clothes she does, why she wears them *just* that well... Jason glances over and she's doing that inner-focused thing, marking her breaths as evenly as her pace, concentrating enough that that frown line is *just* showing on her forehead...

Yeah, *keep* Bruce in the suit, and Tim in whatever gorgeous thing she'd put on for her date. Jason will... hell, he'll even keep his tie on. And maybe Bruce will insist on them all sitting down to dinner first, maybe he'll feed Tim little things from his plate while his hand *creeps* up Jason's thigh --

Jason feels himself grinning nice and wide, and really, there are so many *different* little fantasies he can think up, different things that Bruce and Tim would do *just* because they turned him on. There's *nothing* wrong with the sex. They just -- they *mesh*, in every possible dirty way. And one day Bruce is gonna feel more comfortable sharing *his* little fantasies, and -- Jesus, maybe Jason can get him to tell them all about them, tell *him* all about them --

Bruce *has* shared, but it isn't enough. Jason *knows* that was all just the barest fucking tip of the iceberg, and it's exactly like discovering a whole new side of Bruce. It's a scary side, and part of Jason will always be a little sad that it's there because of how things *could* have been between them, how they might have worked out, over time, how to be a father and a son, but -- this is good, too. This is *great*, especially if Jason can stop tripping over his damned issues and go with it all the time the way he does when they're in the middle of screwing and it's all he can *think* about.

He *can* have that all the time. He *knows* it, and he knows it's what Bruce and Tim want from him -- for him. And Bruce... Bruce is his partner, and his friend, and a whole lot of other things that never have to change, at all. Finding a new side to him is a twisted kind of *Christmas*, complete with a lot of things wrapped up tight that are *all* for him.

Even the ones which are, technically, for Tim -- because he's never going to get tired of seeing her happy, seeing her horny, seeing her fucking *wild* for it like there's no other possible way of handling things...

"Penny," she says, and leads them back to the trail when the trees start getting too thick together.

"Just thinking about us, baby. All of us, that is."

"Mm. I wanted... I wanted some time for just the two of us, time to *talk*..."

That -- sounds really ominous. "Uh... yeah?"

She laughs, softly. "Sometimes... sometimes you *think* you haven't made up your mind about something when you actually have, you know."

Jason winces a little. "I -- can see that point, yeah. Look, don't dance around. *Are* you okay with all of this?"

"Yes --"

"Thank God --"

"But I'm still *worried* about it. You're so sure that it's all going to work out, that it will all *keep* working out, just because we all want it to, and I just... there are all kinds of relationships that fall apart out there that don't have anything *like* the pressures and stresses that our relationship does."

That's nothing but the truth, *but* -- "They don't -- civilians don't *get* it, Tim. You know that. They're all worried about their mortgages and their jobs and their car payments and their kids' clothes and all that other stuff that doesn't mean shit when it's all said and done."

"I'm sure -- they -- would beg to differ, Jay --"

"They don't get a say. We're dealing with life and death out there, baby. Every *night*. We don't know if one of us just isn't going to come back home one dawn, if Bruce's cowl won't get ripped off in the middle of some fight and our whole world will come crashing down, or -- fuck, a million other things that we're all trained to avoid, but which could happen *anyway*. You *know* that. Hell, you were just talking about that --"

"I. It's true. But still, Jay, we're asking for a *lot* here. From all of us."

"Yeah, well, we all know -- or we *should* know -- that all that really matters is keeping things sane and good and *together* as much as we can, making our down time as good and sweet as it can be, because we all need it, and because it could all fall apart at *any* time. We have to just... I don't know, take it moment by moment? We can't afford to drive ourselves nuts thinking about potential futures that might never be *allowed* to happen," and Jason glances over again --

Tim's jaw is tight and her eyes are tracking fast, looking for holes in his argument, ways to make it *clear* to him that even though she wants it -- all of it -- that it's, well, too much to ask.

"It's *not* too much if it's what we all need. And you -- you need Bruce."

"I care about him. I -- he makes me --" Tim shakes her head. "It *scares* me how much older he is, Jay. I mean, I'm *fourteen* --"

"Fifteen in a couple of weeks..."

Tim snorts. "Yes, and you'll be seventeen in August, and Bruce will be *forty*. I have no *idea* how that's working for him, but --"

"Wait, wait, *you're* the one who *understood* his feelings and his -- issues. From the *beginning*, even --"

"Of course I understood him loving you. As far as I'm concerned, it's an excellent sign of mental *health*, but now there's me --"

"And he fucking *adores* you --"

"I. Yes, he does seem to make that... difficult to *escape* in terms of perception --" Tim growls softly and picks up speed again, possibly without thinking about it.

It *is* time for them to pour it on a little more, but if she's needing to run... "Baby, he's -- it's how he's *wired*. And yeah, I admit that I spend a lot of time not thinking about that too deeply, but -- I have to live with it. *Have* to."

"Because you love him, and you want him, and I *know* this sort of thing is pretty much never a phase, and I -- no, that's not. I'm throwing out random things instead of saying what I mean."

"Okay..."

"What I *mean*... is that I'm intimidated. When I'm with him -- when I was with him, earlier, it was so *easy*. It was fun and warm and really *good*, like maybe I could've had something with Bruce even if you were never in the picture for either of us."

Jason shivers. "Well -- that's what. You're falling in love with him."

"I am. I think I am, and I --" She shakes her head and makes a sound that may or may not be part of a really kind of *cracked* laugh -- "It scares the hell out of me, Jay. You -- you're so easy to be in love with, it's so *right*, on so many -- on so many *levels* --"

"Heh. Batgirl needs a Robin?"

"So *much*, and vice versa, and -- I have no *context* for Bruce, nothing to make it make sense other than his mutual attraction with Barbara, and my own *fucking* crazy feelings. I feel greedy, slutty --"

"Jesus, baby, *no* --"

She holds up a hand. "It's not -- the feelings pass, all too quickly, leaving me with this... this *thing* for him, this need to touch and be touched. The way he *speaks* to me..." She shakes her head, and -- she really looks like she's struggling with this, like it's hurting her a little, when all Jason wants --

"You should -- I want you to *go* with the good feelings, and be happy. He *does* talk to you in a different way than he talks to anyone else. You make him... this weird kind of *playful*, happy --"

"And it's different from the playful happiness he gives you, and he's so..." Tim laughs and veers around a deadfall in the path that looks like it's been there for years.

"He loves you, baby. And I -- it makes me feel so *good*."

"Because he approves of your taste...?"

"Heh, okay, I admit that's *part* of it. The rest... I don't really have words for it, other than loving the way you bring him out, the way he brings *you* out."

"And I want. I want to say that *you* bring me out, that you do it just -- *effortlessly*, but yes, I know that it's different," she says, and sighs. "You want us to live for the moment."

"It's -- it's just *smart*, baby."

"Mm. You do realize that goes so far against my grain that you might as well be asking me to have sex with Barbara, right?"

Not the time to mention *that* fantasy, or that other one, either. "I -- uh. Yeah, I do."

Tim nods and turns them back toward the manor. "I -- I'll try, Jay. For -- for you and for Bruce and for myself. Possibly in that order, but only if I can actually *control* myself."

Jason laughs and runs two fingers down her spine. Heat, sweat -- Tim. "Losing control is nice, too."

"*Baby* steps, Jay," she says, but kind of *cuts* her eyes at him, and yeah, there's that heat.

"Spar today?"

"This late in the day? It won't be long before it's time for us to go out, and I need to get in some extended stretching."

Which reminds him -- "Uh -- don't be surprised when Dick wants to get seriously *involved* in your stretching exercises. I mean, he's kind of a demon about that with *me*."

"A demon?"

"A pushy, shove-y, *bendy* demon," Jason says. "Seriously, it's like a religion with him."

"That... makes sense. Barbara used footage of him stretching to teach me, sometimes, before Selina got involved in my training. Rather awe-inspiring."

But not in that sex way. *Not* --

"I'll try not to nerve-strike him when he puts his hands on me."

"Heh. That's *all* we can ask, baby. And -- hunh. It's been forever since I've sparred with *Bruce*."

"Mm, yes. You probably should try to get that in while he's at least moderately sexually sated."

And she probably didn't *mean* for that to put all kinds of thoughts in his head, but -- it really did. Does. Right *now*. *All* the times Bruce has thrown him, pinned him, held him *down* against the mats.

Those few times when Jason's got his breathing to get a little rough because Jason has been able to stay in the game just that long, been able to *take* Bruce's hits over and over again, or -- hell. Maybe his breathing had been rough *just* because he was turned on.

It's not like an incredibly painful jock would *ever* be enough to make *Bruce* quit. And... how many times has Bruce just disappeared into lesser-used parts of the Cave after they *have* sparred? Given Jason things to work on and practice and got himself *gone* --

And the image of Bruce braced against some rough-blasted wall, squeezing himself *hard*, jerking himself off *fast*, maybe biting his lip -- no, that would be too obvious. Forcing himself to be quiet without *anything* to help with that -- Jason groans, and it's breathy and kind of *loud* --

Tim laughs. "Maybe *you* should wait for that spar, Jay."

"Oh, like you *don't* wanna watch."

"Spars are *always* educational," and her voice is prim and fucking -- *virtuous* --

"You know, when you use that voice, I just want to tongue your ass until you start kicking and fighting."

"You *always* want to rim me --"

"Nuh-uh, not rimming. That's too *direct*. I want to *tongue your ass*. Lick up and down the cleft, shove in, growl against your hole, *tease* you a little --"

Tim growls. "We -- had quite enough of that this morning --"

"Gettin' hard for me, baby? Maybe a little slick right at the tip of your pretty little cock?"

"Pretty. *Little* -- I. You know, it's possible that *one* day I'll get used to the things that come out of your mouth, but I have my doubts," she says, and starts ramping up her speed for the final sprint.

"Aw, you like my mouth. You *love* my mouth. It's -- lush."

"Dirty. *Filthy* --"

"I'm a bad, bad boy," he says, and slaps her ass *hard*.

He gets a yelp for his trouble and a mean little punch to the bicep --

"What, I'm only allowed to do that when you're bent over something?"

"You." The blush is *deep* on her face. Maybe a little too deep?

"I mean... you *should* tell me what the rules are for that, in all seriousness --"

"Rules. I. Let me get back to you on that one," she says, and takes *off*. No way he's catching her until she stops, because she can fucking *cut* through the world when she wants to. Still, the sprint's always the best part of the run, because he's all warmed up and *primed* for it, and because there's always a point when he thinks he'd maybe run too far already to make it a good one, that his body will just give *out* on him, and never mind everything he knows about his own stamina.

It's a burn, it's a rush, and it makes him ache for the jump-lines and all the flying he'll be doing once the sun goes down and Gotham belongs to him again.

Tim's already shaking herself out on the veranda, and that's more than enough reason to *really* push it until he's running right up to her, knocking into her enough that she loses a *little* of that perfect balance and it's *necessary* to grab her and pull her in close.

She's laughing and beating at his chest, a little --

"Me Tarzan, you hottie?"

"Planning on ravishing me, Jay...?"

"*Daily*," he says, and kisses her, bending her back a little because he can, and because it makes her laugh into his mouth and wrap her arms around his neck. They're both sweaty and hot, and it makes Jason want to get even more so, but she's not biting him or pulling on his hair, so...

So he stands them both upright and *nips* her lip. She rubs the spot she'd punched earlier and smiles at him with her eyes, narrow and warm and a little watchful.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You really enjoyed that. Spanking me."

"You were getting off on it like *crazy*. Of *course* I enjoyed it. I mean -- okay, I wouldn't have been able to do it a few weeks ago, but now that I know you a little better --"

"Do you ever wonder how you loved me when you *didn't* know me?"

Jason shakes his head. "I loved a *piece* of you before. A big and *important* piece, but still just a piece. Now that I have the rest of you -- most of the rest of you, because I know there are still little things I just don't know *yet* -- anyway, it makes perfect sense to me," he says, and strokes down to her hips.

Tim nods. "All right. And... was it more than just how I was reacting to it? Was there anything about it that was... just for you?"

"You mean like watching your ass get all red, feeling the sting in my palm, making you cry out over and *over* again, knowing that you were *mine* and I could do anything I wanted? Stuff like that?"

Tim's smile turns rueful and she looks down. "All right, yes, I -- asked for that. I just. We both know that we *both* get aroused by pain during sex, but I wonder if it makes you... if you think I only want to be punished."

Jason squeezes her hips before reaching to push her chin up, make her *see* him. "It's okay if you want to be punished, sometimes. I mean, if it isn't then I'm in trouble, too. That blowjob yesterday... those fucking *teeth* of yours --"

"That wasn't really *punishment*, per se --"

"But you were owning me. *Claiming* me, and that's -- that's just the hottest thing in the damned world, baby. It's *great* that you get off on the same kinds of things, because it lets me... it's freedom for both of us, you know?"

She nods, biting the inside of her lip, a little.

Jason strokes her cheek, rubs at the sweat on her scalp, her contained hair explosion --

"I... I love the way you touch me, Jay. The *ways* you touch me -- all of them. Sometimes I get too wound up with... other things and *can't* enjoy it, but that was... pure? Perfect?"

"Go with 'hot as hell.' And *keep* going with it. I want *all* your kinks. I want to come up with *new* ones for both of us. There's nothing I wouldn't do to get you *off*."

And that makes her blush again, but it also makes her look *real* damned speculative, which really...

Jason grins.

She nods, once, and twists out of his grip. "Back to the Cave?"

"Hey, wait, you were thinking something *good* there. I can *tell* --"

"I was -- it's *just* a thought, for now. I need time to work on it. I'll let you know."

And that was all about shutting down questions for now, but... he can deal. She'll tell him when she's ready.

Or maybe she'll show him.

When they get back down to the Cave, Bruce is doing chin-ups and generally looking like a living *wall*. Jason had grown up and out pretty steadily since Bruce had taken him in -- he already weighs more than the man he'd thought was his father -- but Bruce is something else entirely.

There are heroes who are bigger and stronger than he is, but they're all metas in one way or another. Or an alien feeding off the sun. Bruce had *made* himself into that, and he remembers Alfred showing him old pictures one day when the training had made him feel useless and scrawny -- Bruce hadn't been all *that* big as a kid, at all.

He's -- well, he's *Bruce*. Baddest and best. Jason grins to himself and walks over closer while Tim heads over near the acrobatics equipment to pretzel herself for justice. She hasn't gotten *much* time on with that stuff, lately. Probably she's planning on rectifying that situation. And Bruce... is still doing those chin-ups. One after another after another, steady and even.

"You make me wanna grab your legs and swing, B."

"Dick used to find that very thing endlessly entertaining."

Oh, he can *really* see it. Just -- "He totally wrapped his whole body around your legs --"

"And bounced, yes. It made keeping my rhythm interestingly challenging," Bruce says, and he's smiling for the memory and maybe just for being happy.

Jason sits down on the mats close enough that he *could* reach over and grab one of Bruce's ankles if the mood struck hard enough. "You pretty much have to miss that. Miss having someone *like* that around."

The smile slips. "Jay..." A warning, really, and Jason raises his hands.

"Easy, easy, I'm not saying anything about how you might prefer having Dick to having me. I'm not even *thinking* it."

"No...?"

"Nope. Just -- Tim and I were talking about Dick on our run, and I got to thinking that, yeah, I really *do* miss him when I haven't seen him for a while."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Is it that much of a surprise?"

"Well... *yeah*. He pretty much hated me and everything I *stood* for for a while, and he made that *really* clear --"

"You mustn't... you know that I hurt him very badly --"

"I know, and you know, and *he* knows. And also I was a little punk with a *nasty* fucking attitude," Jason says, and lets himself fall back onto his elbows, lounge a little. "And no, this is not where you try to convince me that I *wasn't* a pain in the fucking ass for a good long while."

"Hmm. As you wish," Bruce says, and the light is back in his eyes, bright and teasing.

"Yeah. *Anyway*... I never thought I'd wind up having a brother." Or wanting his ass. "That's -- pretty much all of it."

"'Pretty much?'"

Of fucking *course* Bruce heard that. Or maybe just heard the absence of it, or -- some other damned thing. Jason sighs and crosses his legs at the ankle. "I'm still working the rest of it out in my head, B. Issues, neuroses, the whole nine. He's been really *good* to me, and -- hell, even when he *did* hate me, he still tried like hell to welcome me *in*, you know?"

"Little wing," Bruce says, thoughtful and quiet and *full* of understanding.

Jason nods. "*That*, yeah. It used to screw me up big time, because I could tell he *meant* it, that he really wanted me to be a part of his life even when he *also* wanted to drop me off Wayne fucking Tower."

"Hmm. It's possible that he only wanted to dangle you from it."

"Yeah? Well, he *is* a pretty nice guy," Jason says, and gestures with his chin. "How many more, today?"

"Forty-three."

"I can wait. I want a *spar*, B. It's been way too fucking long."

Bruce hums and raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should save it for a reward."

"Heh. For which *one* of us?"

"Tim has been... exceptional."

Jason snorts. "Man, when you say it that way, it sounds fucking *wrong*, B."

"You've always... appreciated that sort of thing, from me."

"Hey, if it keeps you from trying to hump the fucking Catwoman, I'm *all* for it."

"I'm sure," he says, and fucking *glitters* at Jason, "that Tim will be pleased to discover the full extent of her role as... replacement."

Jason shifts until he can raise one hand and make a pushing gesture. "Okay, okay, I'll be good, I swear. She kicks like a fucking *mule*."

Another hum. "And her punches, Jay...?"

"Hey, it's your turn to piss her off, next. *Find out*."

"For some reason, I think I'd rather continue my efforts to please her in every possible way."

"Less wrong, more *dirty*. Heh. Why don't you tell me all *about* that, B? *How* do you want to please her?"

"Ah... it seems a discussion that would be better saved for when she's once again in our presence."

"Hey, if she doesn't watch *your* footage, she *always* has access to Babs'."

"Which reminds me -- how *do* you feel about the fact that your entire life is being monitored, now? I've always restricted myself to what we've done here, but Barbara is... more thorough about such things."

"Well..." Jason rolls his head on his neck, back and forth. "To be honest? I try not to think about it too much. And when I *do* think about it, I choose to believe that Babs just has a lot more kinks than any of us have ever given her credit for. I mean, Tim planted those cameras in *front* of me. Like it was nothing, or -- no, like she wouldn't be fully comfortable until all of them were up and running."

"She's spent a very important part of her life under the -- threat or promise -- of constant surveillance, and she was in a strange place, besides. I... understand. And there is a curious sort of comfort in knowing I have Barbara's attention."

"Even though that attention probably involves her sharpening something for your sac, B? Hell, for *mine* --"

"Even so," he says, and sighs. "I trust Barbara to do what's necessary should I ever go... too far. Just as you trust Tim."

And that's... too close to what he spent the morning and part of the afternoon to think about. Too raw, too much -- something.

"Jay...? Are you --"

"Let's -- talk about something else. I mean, I know I *have* to talk about this stuff with you, but I still have a lot of work to do on it."

"I will help in any way I can," Bruce says, Bruce *vows*, and Jason kinda has to smile at him for that.

"You were the only thing I had for a good long time, B. You were -- are -- worth it."

Bruce shakes his head once. "One day, perhaps, you will understand the pleasure I take from being able to help you, in whatever small way you allow..." And Bruce's laugh is a little breathy. "You *can* understand, if you give it some thought."

It's all about love, like a rope between them -- no, something stronger than that. A bridge, and another between him and Tim, and another between Tim and Bruce. And that... "You changed the subject."

"Did I...?"

Jason kicks out -- lightly -- for Bruce's foot. "You were gonna talk dirty about -- our -- girl."

Bruce's rhythm kind of *hitches* --

"Yeah, I said it. She's falling for you *hard*."

"She..." Bruce sighs again and visibly *hauls* himself back into the chin-ups. "She offers her body so easily, so openly -- except for her genitals. Perhaps predictably, I have endless fantasies of touching her there."

"Yeah, I just bet. Did you try earlier?"

"Not... directly," Bruce says, and he's frowning a little, so...

"Meaning you maybe tried to tease her a little through the gaff?"

"I tried to cup, not to tease. It seemed... at the time, it seemed like a logical thing to do," and Bruce is frowning a little harder.

"You're just not used to her, yet, B. Avoiding that until she tells you it's okay *gets* to be something like second nature."

"It's... disconcerting that you find this sort of talk comfortable, Jay."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Hey, you *know* I like it when I can see the human in you, B. *All* of him."

"The occasional off-color remark about a third party is one thing. Specific discussion of your -- our -- lover is something else, entirely.

Our lover. He likes that, likes... being able to share with Bruce, maybe? Having something -- someone -- in common, and.

It occurs to him, sudden and sharp, that, for at least a part of his mind, having *Tim* in common is making up for the age difference, stretching a bridge -- again, but a different one -- over the gap of life and experience between him and Bruce. Making them... well.

"I want... I like being as close to you as I can get, B," he says, and smiles ruefully. "It used to seem really hard to get, or... hard to keep? To credit? Something like that."

And Bruce is silent for a while after that, obviously thinking while he works. Jason settles back on his elbows and focuses on continuing to cool down after that run, thinks a little about strategies he could use for the spar -- useless, really, because he *never* knows what Bruce is going to throw at him, but still fun.

Proof of how much time and effort he's put in to making himself stronger, better --

"When you... decided. To allow me to..." Bruce kind of *grimaces*, but he doesn't stop working, and --

The grimace really had nothing to do with pain or exertion, and Jason knows what Bruce is trying to say. "Um... maybe... I don't know if I really *decided* so much as surrendered, B. Not that you made a strong case or anything. You *are* a strong case, and I... I don't know. Tim told me that I kind of have a habit of making up my mind before I realize I've done it, and she's right."

"Your passions drive you. This isn't always a failing --"

"But *sometimes* it is, and I -- well," Jason says, and shrugs a little. "What did you want to know?"

Bruce closes his eyes, and it makes the tiny smile on his face look like something which should cut deep, change things -- "Why. Or... perhaps I mean how."

It was probably just Jason's *turn* to sigh. "I -- I could probably say something, here, about how I figured out that I needed you, that I needed you as much as I needed Tim, and so I just kind of *dealt* with what needed to be dealt with so I could *have* you, and -- moments like this, you know? The two of us just hanging out and talking."

"I enjoy it a great deal. And I -- you shouldn't feel obligated to answer, Jay. I'm far more happy than I am curious."

Jason raises his eyebrows and smiles. "But maybe also a little worried the way Tim gets worried?"

"It would be an easy emotion to embrace... but you don't undertake such things lightly, and neither does Tim, herself. After this morning, there's a greater urge toward... confidence."

And that's kind of... surprising? Scary? It's a *little* like the feeling he used to get when Bruce read him so perfectly he had to wonder if he telegraphed *everything* about himself, but it goes a little deeper than that, and kind of makes Jason feel penned in, held *close*. Thinking about it that way... well, wouldn't it have to be that way with someone like Bruce? Someone who never takes *anything* lightly...

"Jay...?"

"Heh. I... it's funny. I've spent a little time thinking about what I'd be like as a person if I hadn't hustled, or maybe only hustled a little bit. I would've gone for you, let all those good things you made me feel push me that way, but... I don't know. Would you have bit?"

"I would like to believe that I would've resisted because of your age, suggested that you -- we -- wait..."

Jason nods. "But there's Tim, who's only fourteen in some of the *really* important ways."

"There are times I feel -- monstrous. More so because of the happiness I can't deny within myself. Last night, this morning... Jay, I would have that as much as the two of you allow. I have no capacity for denial --"

"No control. But -- it's us. We're..." Family. Jason winces -- and holds up a hand when Bruce frowns. "Tripping over stuff again, B. It'll pass, and... what would you have done if Dick had made a pass?"

"*When* he did, I explained that it was inappropriate as gently as I could manage. After I lost myself for a deeply terrifying moment in his touch."

"Oh... wow. And ow. How old --"

"Fourteen. It didn't take very long after that day for him to become Clark's lover."

Clark's -- he'd known about that. Dick had dropped a *lot* of hints about it, and Dick's idea of subtle involves plaid, polka dots, and a whole lot of fucking sequins. Still, he hadn't thought that Dick was *that* young when it started, and really, how many *other* heroes in the League are wired that way? Just -- "You never tried to *stop* that?"

"I've spent my life trying to avoid hypocrisy, Jay," Bruce says, and drops from the bar -- and crouches next to Jason with a hand on his knee. "You feel I should've done it, anyway."

"Well -- I know Clark's your friend and all, but --"

"He's Dick's friend, as well. More than that -- he has always eased things for Dick, always been there to offer comfort, warmth. Love. I don't like to think about what Dick's life might have been like if he hadn't had Clark."

That -- "Well, as a *friend*, sure, but --"

"How much," Bruce says, and squeezes Jason's knee, "of your objections, now, are based on the fact that you've never been comfortable with Clark?"

Jason sits up. "Jesus, B, I think I have *reason*."

Bruce smiles. "He's an alien with frightening powers, and you've never... approved. I do not think he seduced Dick, and I have reason behind that belief: Dick was terribly, terribly guilty the first several times he stayed with Clark for that reason, obviously waiting for me to chastise him --"

"You ever think that maybe he just felt *dirty*?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Never. The three of us worked together quite often in those days, and I could always see the way Dick responded to Clark. The happiness and warmth, the ease... I could never have interfered with that, even if I didn't have my own guilty desires to live with."

Jason frowns more, but there's really nothing there he can touch, no matter how much he wants to. Hell, for all he knows, Dick and Clark are *still*... lovers. Maybe that kind of thing doesn't *count* as cheating with Dick, because... fucking A, the way Dick talks, Clark had practically helped raise him, which totally *does* make the whole thing worse.

For him, anyway, and -- would Dick be jealous of him, right now? Batgirl *and* Batman, and he'd never managed to have either. All *he* has is the most powerful being on the planet and an alien princess supermodel who likes to fight crime wearing a couple of metal strips and some boots.

Jason laughs to himself and scrubs at his face with his hand. "Yeah, okay, fine. You answered the question *I* asked, and... I asked for it."

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable --"

Jason waves it off. "I'll talk to Dick about it one day -- if I can figure out how to do it without bringing *us* up, anyway --"

"You... you're planning to hide this from him."

"Aren't *you*? I mean, it's not like this is the kind of thing that should get *around*, B --"

"You're ashamed," Bruce says, and squeezes Jason's knee kind of *hard*, and -- hell.

"It's not -- it's not that. Really, okay? It's just... well. Don't you think you'd have to take at least *some* shit from the rest of the League if it *did* get around?"

Bruce turns away. There's a smile on his face, but it's narrow and kind of cold, and --

"Bruce...?"

"I... there's so much you don't know about how the rest of the League has... related to the younger heroes. Part of that has been your insistence about staying apart from the Titans, but -- I. It sounds like I'm saying that the League is made up of ephebophiles." Bruce shakes his head and laughs, softly. "None of that is of any consequence. There's a difference, for me, in having our relationship become known to the wider world and having it become known to *Dick*, Jason."

Which makes perfect sense -- to a *point*. "*Should* there be a difference, B? I mean, Dick *will* talk to Kory about this, especially if it upsets him any, and Kory might let it slip to Roy, or Donna, who'll talk to Diana... you see where I'm going with this, right?"

Another grimace. "I'm not. I'm not comfortable with keeping this sort of secret from Dick. There's already too much I've done -- and failed to do --"

"And hurt him that way, I get it, and it would be fucking awful if he found out by *accident*, but -- I'm just saying that we should maybe keep it to ourselves until we know *how* to talk to him about it," Jason says, and covers the hand on his knee with his own. "Okay?"

Bruce nods, but his eyes are seriously troubled, and that's just not where Jason wants him to *be*.

"Hey, look, it'll be all right, Bruce. I mean, maybe Dick *will* be really upset, but he loves you, and he really does see me as his brother, and he'll get past it. And in the meantime, we've got -- us," and Jason squeezes Bruce's hand.

Bruce smiles again, and it's still distant, but it's a lot warmer. "That makes up for very much," he says, and reaches out to cup Jason's face. "Attraction is such a curiously *cruel* thing."

He really *would* think so. Hell, he'd have to, but -- "I don't know. Sometimes it's just a mechanism that works really damned well, B."

"A mechanism?"

"I... yeah. Something inside us like breathing or swallowing --"

"Both of which are rather inefficient in the human body --"

Jason snorts. "Okay, something which works *better* than breathing and swallowing, because it -- well. It pushes us toward the things -- the *people* -- we need for one reason or another."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "We've both seen what happens when attraction does just the opposite --"

"In people who are *really* screwed up, instead of just a little screwed up here and there. For most people, I think... attraction -- *real* attraction, the kind that comes with love and respect and all those other good things -- is something that needs to be listened to, because if we don't, we wind up going without the things which make life something to be happy about."

Bruce nods slowly and brushes his thumb over Jason's cheekbone.

"How long... has it been always, for you? Wanting us to be like this and *also* touching?"

"I -- took -- a great deal from resting my hands on your shoulders, from clasping your forearms --"

"Yeah, I know that, B, but -- *this*," and he drags Bruce's hand up his thigh a little ways --

"You're so very beautiful, Jay. I --" And Bruce cuts himself off, leans in, and the first thought in Jason's mind isn't really a thought at all. It's something like an alarm, waking up his whole body and making him get gooseflesh on his arms and legs.

The second thought is closer to his forebrain, and it's all about Tim somewhere he can't see her, pushing and pulling her body until she can do more and more incredible things --

And then Bruce's mouth is against his own, and the *only* thought is more, faster, harder, because it's gentle and soft, *dry* --

Jason opens his mouth and tilts his head a little, nudging up a little closer and feeling his nose drag against Bruce's cheek, feeling Bruce's hand slide into his hair and tug, just a little, before he slips his tongue into Jason's mouth.

It's still slow, but now it's wet, and the *sound* of the kiss is wet and somehow close, pressing in on Jason from all sides and making the gooseflesh mean something, making it *worth* something. Bruce is sliding his hand further up Jason's thigh and squeezing hard, and he's tugging on Jason's hair a little more --

Jason opens his eyes, but Bruce's are closed, tracking fast behind the lids as he thinks -- probably a million different things at once. There's the confidence he was talking about, but there's also that *hunger*, that greed to have everything he can just in case it gets taken away. It's weird to think that way about a kiss this gentle, but it's *there*. He puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder, just to feel him a little --

And Bruce rolls down onto his knees, leans in more and moans, quiet and just --

It *hits* something inside Jason, makes it seize and scream a little to the rest of him. Bruce is moaning, *Bruce* is moaning, Bruce is *moaning*, and he wants this, wants Jason every way he can have him, and that's amazing, but it's still a little scary, a little like being a kid again and a lot like being *taken*.

Jason squeezes Bruce's shoulder hard and moves his hand to the back of Bruce's neck, squeezes there, too, and pushes back enough that he can stay upright, sucks Bruce's tongue and gets another moan --

Bruce pulls back --

"Uh -- B?"

"You... wanted a spar," he says, and licks his lips, quick and teasing --

No, not that. He doesn't think Bruce would *ever* tease him on purpose, and -- "Yeah, but, let me --"

"Always," Bruce says, and that's more than enough reason for Jason to be thinking about those fucking parties when he kisses Bruce again.

To think about being all dressed up and tricked out for all the rich and pretty people, faking his way through a glass of champagne and trying to make it look like his third or fourth -- and having Bruce drag him to some quiet corner and just *take*, or --

They could be sitting down to dinner, and Bruce could shove his hand down Jason's pants while pretending to laugh at some idiot's stupid joke --

They could *have* this, there, and Jason knows Bruce wouldn't put up a fight. He might not *start* it, but he'd damned well finish it, finish *Jason* --

Kiss him just the way Jason's kissing him now, hard and fucking *serious* with his tongue stabbing its way into Bruce's mouth over and over, and Bruce is *clutching* at Jason's hair now, fingers digging in against his scalp, just --

Those *hands*, and Bruce is *stroking* Jason's thigh, now, making it warm and making *Jason* warm --

Making Jason *hard*, and he needs to moan, really *wants* to moan, but the stupid fucking *kid* inside him --

No, it doesn't get a say, not for this, and when Jason takes a breath through his nose, he lets it out in a groan that goes on and on, goes right down Bruce's *throat* --

And for a moment it's hard to accept that he's flat on his back on the mats, but that has more to do with the fact that Bruce had used his hand to cushion the fall, or -- possibly it's the fact that Bruce is sucking *his* tongue, moving over Jason and tugging at the hem of Jason's t-shirt, pulling it up between them --

Break, and Jason's too busy panting to say a word, too busy staring up at Bruce's fucking *wild* eyes to do anything but groan again --

"*Jay* --"

"Jesus. Jesus, B, I --" Jason licks his lips and starts to get back up on his elbows --

Bruce lets go of the shirt and *plants* his hand on Jason's chest, splays it and *presses*, searching Jason's eyes --

"I -- yeah, B?"

Bruce nods and opens his mouth -- leaves it open and does a little panting of his own. He looks *dark*, looming and hungry and just *this* close to being completely out of control, and part of Jason really wants that, *just* that, wants Bruce to fucking *yank* him out of his own head and into the sex that really is going to happen *right* now.

It's just that the rest of him needs it to not be that way -- this time. And that part is the one that'll be making Jason freak right the hell out, making the sex between them not *work* as well as it could. He reaches out and cups Bruce's face, finding a pressure point with his thumb and pushing a little until Bruce winces --

"Jay."

"Can you handle slowing down a little, B? I -- I need you to."

Bruce presses *harder* on Jason's chest for a second, but he nods and closes his mouth, squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back a little. The most blind civilian in the *world* wouldn't be able to miss the tension in Bruce's neck and shoulders, and -- yeah.

Jason strokes down to the join of Bruce's shoulder and neck and massages a little, digging in until Bruce moans and shudders --

And opens his eyes. "I'm sorry. I -- that kiss."

Jason grins. "It was a pretty good kiss if I do say so myself."

Bruce searches him again, obviously trying hard to even out his breathing -- "What do you want. What -- can I have?"

"Well... I'm not trying to tease you, okay? But -- tell me what you want? Get me going, a little --"

"I..." Bruce lets out a shaky exhale. "I'd like to kiss you again. To -- cover you with my body. Press close, as close to you as I can get --"

Jason shivers. "Yeah, uh -- yeah. Do it."

And Bruce is on him, moving against him -- one thigh between Jason's own and pressing on his jock, and then Bruce is lowering himself slow, fucking *achingly* slow, more and more *weight* until Jason is sighing out a lot of his air against Bruce's mouth --

Until they're kissing again, only it's more like being tasted, this time, maybe *tested*. Bruce is licking his mouth like maybe Jason had blown Tim while they were out for their run and he *needs* the taste, needs to have it all over his mouth, his lips and tongue --

He actually fights a little when Jason starts kissing back, pressing hard and *holding* his tongue in Jason's mouth when Jason starts pushing and coaxing --

And then he shudders all over, and Jason's hips pump *completely* without permission --

Bruce groans and licks the underside of Jason's tongue fast and wet and sweet, practically *begging* Jason to get his tongue back into Bruce's mouth, and yeah, he can *absolutely* do that, and hold Bruce's head while he's doing it, hold Bruce *still* for it --

Bruce thrusts *hard* against Jason's thigh and shudders again, moves on him the way he'd once seen Dick moving on Kory, like his whole body needs this contact, this *touch*. Jason lets go of Bruce's face with one hand and strokes down to his neck again, teases the back of it with his fingertips --

Bruce pulls back and pants -- "Not. I want."

"Tell me," Jason says. "The worst I can say is no --"

"Let me taste you, Jay. Let me suck you, and --"

Another kiss, and this one is harder, almost painful, and Bruce licks Jason's tongue back into his mouth and sucks again, moves again -- pulls Jason's hand from the back of his neck and lifts it over Jason's head, pressing it down against the mats and fuck, it's what Jason's wanted, what he's been afraid of -- he bucks his hips hard, and for a second he doesn't know if he's trying to escalate or trying to get Bruce *off* him --

But Bruce moans again and Jason knows, opens his eyes to find Bruce staring down at him and looking angry, looking hungry and needy and just *hot*. Jason thrusts his tongue against the pressure of Bruce's suck --

Bruce closes his eyes and thrusts against him so smoothly, so --

Like he was waiting for *just* that, like this is the only way he knows how to *beg*. Jason strokes down Bruce's arm with his free hand, gets a *good* grip on his wrist -- the thrusts get harder, and Jason's jock is starting to be a problem, which means Bruce's jock has to be *killing* him right now.

He strokes back up to Bruce's shoulder, meaning to push so he can say something about getting more naked -- Bruce reacts badly to being pushed like that. Something else. Something -- he stops thrusting his tongue into Bruce's mouth and bites his lip hard, instead, pulling back --

"Jay? Do you want me to --"

"No, I -- let's ditch these clothes?"

Bruce pants and closes his eyes, pants and *grinds* against Jason --

"Fuck, c'mon, B --"

"Yes," and Bruce rolls up onto his knees and pulls his shirt off -- pauses with it in his hands, staring into the distance a little --

Oh, yeah. "Tim?"

"Don't mind me," she says, and her voice is low and light at once, like *maybe* she's lying a little, but --

"Tim. Would you like..." Bruce's laugh is soft and cracked. "You find me at a disadvantage."

"You seemed to be doing quite all right," and her voice is still kind of weird, but -- oh. It's *formal*, like maybe how she talks to her teachers or something.

Jason can't *see* her from this position, but he has to move to get his clothes off. He sits up --

Bruce pushes his hand into Jason's hair, *pulls* his head back -- "Not yet. Please."

"Uh -- okay?"

"Bruce. You're hardly being fair," Tim says, and there's something between a laugh and a *growl* in her voice --

And Bruce eyes just *flare*. "I wasn't aware that fairness was a prerequisite for this sort of activity."

"No...? But you can't really expect me to accept ignorance as an *excuse*."

Playing. They are totally *playing*, and that's fine, that's great, but -- "Uh -- can we go straight to the part where we're stripping? I kind of need a *reason* for Bruce to be holding me by the hair."

"Forgive me," and Bruce kisses him again, a little more gently this time, a little slower -- like maybe he's gotten some of his control back. A part of Jason is a little *upset* about that, which is more than enough reason to push his hands between them, get them on Bruce's chest and stroke, rub, press and tease those nipples with his thumbs, fucking *twist* them a little --

Bruce grunts into his mouth -- pulls *back* --

"B --"

"A moment, if you would," Bruce says, and his smile looks like it could slice a fucking *boulder* in half --

"Did you have something in particular you wanted to say...?" Tim, and Jason still can't *see* her --

"Baby, where *are* you?"

"Not quite close enough to smell you, Jay. And enjoying the view."

"I respectfully suggest that the view could only improve with increased proximity," Bruce says, staring into Jason's eyes the *whole* time -- and leaning in to lick Jason's *cheek* --

"Hey, there isn't even anything *interesting* there --"

"I've often found the taste of your sweat compelling," she says, and hums a little. "I'm quite sure Bruce feels the same."

Bruce licks his way to Jason's ear, breathes there and makes Jason *shiver* -- "She is beautiful," he whispers. "And perhaps it's childish, but I hope this will convince her to join us more fully..."

Jason snorts. "Jesus, B --"

"Yes, that," he says, and *licks* Jason's ear. "She has a deeply inquisitive mind. And, perhaps, some lingering insecurity --"

Jason grunts. "Shouldn't -- not that --"

Bruce bites his ear lightly. "She wants to tease. I want -- more."

"Uh -- fuck. I'm. I'm too hard to think about this, B --"

"Think about what?" And Tim *is* closer -- behind Bruce and searching Jason's face. She looks a little tense and a *lot* curious. Jason reaches out and she touches his fingertips with her own. Her eyes are hot, *focused* --

Bruce sighs against Jason's ear and licks again, stabs in with his tongue --

Jason moans and shudders a little. Just -- that *feeling*, wet and *wrong* in his ear, but still so good --

"Jay." Bruce is still *whispering* --

"Bruce, come on --"

"You asked, before, how I would like to please Tim..."

"I did. I really did, but --"

"Jay," Tim says, and drops to her knees, digs her nails in against Jason's *thigh* --

"I know, baby. I know. He's just -- being an *incredible* fucking *tease* -- oh, *fuck* --"

Bruce's hand *in* his shorts, tugging the jock out of the way and *gripping* him --

"Bruce -- oh, fuck, c'mon, just --"

"I would start by spanking her -- exclusively between her legs --"

"Ow -- oh. Jesus. She'd love it --"

Tim *growls*. "*Bruce* --"

"I believe she would," Bruce says, and Jason can feel his smile against his ear -- "It's my theory that, if every touch there were to be some degree of painful, she would be more willing to accept gentler stimulation, caresses. You never linger when you're touching her genitals. You become almost... almost brutal..."

"True. So true. Fuck, B, stroke me, squeeze me, *something* --"

Bruce squeezes him *hard* -- "When I look at her, I tell myself I only want to touch in the ways she allows, but it's a terrible lie. I want to -- I *long* to lick her penis slowly, to kiss and suck her scrotum. I would start when she was still soft, perhaps when she was asleep --"

"If. If you'd prefer I go --"

And he'd known Bruce was fast, but he still has to reel a little when Bruce pulls away and turns -- Tim is down on the floor beside Jason, pinned flat on her back and *glaring*.

"Bruce," she says, shifting and moving a little. "Let me --"

"Is there something," Bruce says, and his voice is a low *purr* -- "that you would like to know, Tim?"

Her eyes widen and she blushes, and Jason can *tell* that she's still a little pissed, but she also has Bruce *on* her, and --

"Was there something you wanted to *tell* me...?"

Bruce's smile is another one of those *sharp* ones, and Jason's about to tell him that he looks fucking *deadly*, but --

"I want to tell you that you're beautiful, Tim. That I've desired you from the first time I watched you move in the footage of Jason's mask-cam. That I want to *touch* you, hold you down against the floor, against my bed --"

*Fuck* --

"Oh. I --"

"No, baby, let him keep *talking*," and Jay strips off his shirt, stands up to ditch his shorts and jock --

Bruce turns to watch him do it, still pinning Tim *down* --

"*Not* goin' anywhere. Seriously, Bruce, tell her more. Tell *me* more --"

"What. What was he saying before?" And Tim's looking back and forth between them.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, like part of him maybe *wants* them to keep messing with Tim, but -- Jason shakes his head. "He just wanted to make you come closer, baby --"

"That's *not* all he was saying," she says, and struggles a little beneath Bruce --

Bruce turns back to her. "Perhaps there's something I could do to convince you to stay right there."

Tim narrows her eyes. "Honesty would be a start."

And the light in Bruce's eyes fades a little, *just* like he's realizing that he'd pushed her a little too hard. "I'm sorry," he says, and moves off her.

Tim sits up, still giving Bruce that narrow look, and -- damn. Jason ditches his shorts and the jock and kneels down next to her.

"You were playing with Bruce for a little while, there, baby..."

Tim blushes again. "I -- yes. But --"

"But that was kind of mean of him?"

She looks at Bruce -- who's kneeling a couple of feet away and staring down at the floor --and frowns. "I shouldn't... It just looked a lot like I was... a joke," she says. "Perhaps that was unintentional."

Jason nods and shifts enough that he can jab at Bruce's arm with two fingers -- Bruce catches Jason's hand before the jab can connect. "Okay, but look *up*, B."

Sadness, worry, fucking *regret* --

"Oh," Tim says. "You're... sorry. And you'll probably never do that again, and that's -- that makes *me* regret almost as much as it makes me relieved." She laughs, softly. "One or both of us has too many issues, Bruce."

"Yeah, *that*. Especially since we were about to have a lot of hot fucking sex."

Bruce squeezes Jason's hand and smiles ruefully at Tim. "I'm still... feeling my way. You seemed to be in the mood for that sort of play."

Tim looks down, but only for a moment. "I was. I am -- I was just. Worried. I'm afraid I was thinking of you as someone a lot more like the people I attend school with. Which... is ridiculous," she says, and smiles ruefully. "It's... too easy to be jealous."

Bruce lets go of Jason's hand. "I confess that I could tell there was some measure of insecurity... I didn't think."

Jason takes a breath. "Okay, you're *both* sorry, and you're both wearing too many *clothes*."

Both Bruce and Tim look at him -- and look him over, and then look back at each other, which -- okay, a little intimidating, but only in the ways his dick really *appreciates*.

"Uh -- kiss and make up?"

Tim's smile slips from rueful to wry, and she reaches toward Bruce, who shifts close enough to grip her wrist.

"May I?" His voice isn't playful at all, anymore, which is a damned *shame*, but --

"Why, I'm sure I don't know, Bruce. I've been sorely abused," she says, and yeah, Tim thinks it's a shame, too.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "The behavior of amorous men can often be a terrible thing."

Okay, so he could question -- fucking *interrogate*, under hot lights and *with* rubber hoses -- *how* they play, but --

"Oh," Tim says, and lets her hand kind of *droop* beyond the grasp of Bruce's hand. "I've been so naive."

Yeah. *That*. Jason sits back on his heels and tries to look patient.

"A certain naïveté well suits a proper young lady," and Bruce lets go of her wrist and kind of trails his fingers against her palm --

"I do strive to be a credit to my sex," she says, covering her mouth with her other hand and turning her head away, and *really* --

"Fucking A, you people are *warped*."

Tim's shoulders hitch a little with the laugh she's not letting out, and Bruce's smile gets sharp again, *deadly* again -- okay, so his dick really wants more of that *attention* --

"Tim. If you would, perhaps, consent to be *led*," and he tugs on her fingertips --

"The guidance of a responsible older man is a pearl beyond price," she says, and crawls close enough that Bruce can wrap one of his arms around her waist. He's still holding her fingers with his other hand, and he brings them to his mouth, kisses them while she looks right into him, and it looks like she's *completely* focused on his eyes, like nothing could tear her *away* --

"I promise to never take my responsibility lightly," and Bruce's voice is deep and serious, *absolutely* promising, and Jason's starting to wonder, a little, if he maybe shouldn't start jerking himself off --

"You have more than one. Responsibility, that is."

"I am a very, very lucky man," Bruce says, leaning in to kiss her softly, pulling her close -- and closer until she's pressed against him, lifted an inch or two off the floor --

And *then* Tim reaches out for him, tilting her head back for Bruce and moaning. It looks good. It looks *right* again, and maybe Bruce is *just* that good -- able to take Tim from absolute zero to kissing in the time Jason would take to piss her off even more.

Wisdom, if not experience. He can *go* with that. He takes her hand and lets her pull him closer, thinking about whether he wants to be behind her or beside her or -- something.

Definitely *something*, because Bruce is still kissing her, but he's *also* staring right at Jason, looking him over again --

Tim bites Bruce's lip and he closes his eyes and hugs her tighter, strokes her back -- and *right* down to her ass, squeezing hard enough that she *has* to --

Moan, *right* into Bruce's mouth as she strokes Jason's arm, grips it and almost kind of starts jerking off his *arm* -- "Fuck yeah, baby. Wanna touch?"

Another moan, and *she* opens her eyes, and they're wild and unfocused for a moment before they settle on him and just fucking *burn*. And that -- yeah. Jason cups the back of her head and tugs her away from Bruce so he can kiss her himself, nuzzle her face and lick, fuck her mouth a little bit --

"Jay," Bruce says, but it sounds more like Bruce stating a *fact* than it sounds like him calling Jason for anything. Somewhere in there he lets go of Tim enough that he can grab *Jason's* ass, let Jason feel what he's doing to Tim, maybe, let Jason feel what he *wants*.

Tim makes a high-pitched noise into Jason's mouth and shakes her head, pulls back and pants, eyes wide, and when Jason looks Bruce has his hand inside her shorts, fingers pushing down into her cleft and *moving*. He's still only cupping Jason's ass and massaging a little, but -- damn.

It's like feeling something huge and important *shift* inside him, it's -- he *wants*, and when Tim closes her eyes and moans he fucking *aches*. "Bruce --"

Kissed, hard and a little awkward --

Tim gasps --

Bruce lets go of Jason's ass and cups the back of his head, instead, turning him into the kiss and gripping his hair, pushing his tongue into Jason's mouth and *pulling* his hair, and it's still a little messy, awkward enough that Jason's groan sounds slurred and *wet* --

"Oh. Oh, Jay, I want to -- *ah* -- *Bruce* --"

Bruce hums into his mouth, and Jason really wants to know what Tim was about to *say*, but the kiss is getting harder, pushing Jason a little off balance and making Jason heat up, need and just --

His skin's already prickling with fresh sweat, and his body *remembers* the feel of Bruce on him, the *want*, and hell, *Jason* has free hands. He pushes and shoves until he can get one hand on Bruce's chest and the other on Tim's ass --

"Ohn -- fuck, in me, Bruce, *in* me --" And Tim shouts high and loud, and Jason can *feel* Bruce's hand moving -- he yanks and fucking tears at Tim's shorts and briefs until they're down around her thighs, until he can stroke Bruce's hand with his own, find Bruce's nipple again and twist *hard* --

Bruce grunts and presses his fingers against Jason's scalp, keeps *kissing*, biting a little now in between wet sucks, hard *licks* --

"Can't believe -- ow, I --" Tim laughs and her hand is fumbling a little on Jason's shoulder, stroking over to his ear and down his throat and *back* to his shoulder before squeezing -- "God, that *hurts* -- no, don't stop yet, don't --"

Jason groans and opens his eyes -- Bruce is staring *into* him, eyes so hungry he looks *pissed*, and that --

Jason closes his eyes again and rubs Tim's ass, pulls and pinches Bruce's nipple and gives him a little of his fingernail --

Bruce *narrows* his eyes --

Tim *shouts* --

Bruce pulls back and kisses Tim again, holding Jason still by the hair and *fucking* her with -- one finger. *Just* one, and no way she can take more. She has to be raw as *hell*, but she's flushed right down to somewhere under her shirt and rocking back onto Bruce's finger --

Sliding her hand down Jason's chest --

*Clawing* her way down Jason's chest, and that's so good he has to moan again --

Tim's yell this time is growling and *loud*, because Bruce had pulled back and pulled *out*, but she gets a *hard* fucking grip on Jason's dick -- "Jason," she says, to Bruce --

"*Agreed*."

And the next thing Jason knows is that he's on his *back*, quads screaming a little about the stretch --

Bruce pulls Jason's legs out straight and then *licks* his way up from Jason's calf to his thigh --

Tim's kissing him, shoving down against his shoulders and fucking his mouth with her tongue, and that's just fucking fine. That's -- Bruce's mouth on his thighs, one and the other and then back again, kissing and sucking like maybe the best reason to give Jason tights was to be able to mark him *up* a little. Jason moans into Tim's mouth and rears up into the kiss a little --

She growls and *bounces* his shoulders against the floor before gripping Jason's face, and he can guess what's making her this wild, making her need to let Batgirl out a little. It's not all that good -- he should've *known* not to let Bruce poke at her issues like that --

And maybe she can tell he's not focusing, because she *pulls* his head back down to the floor and bites his lower lip like she's planning to take it with her when she breaks the kiss.

Okay, he can stay put. He can --

"*Fuck*," he says, slurred and messy, because Bruce is *biting* his thighs now, in lines that will probably turn out to be ruler fucking straight -- Bruce spreads his thighs *wider*, and Jason bucks, Tim lets go of his lip and bites all over his *face*, instead, digging her teeth in against Jason's cheekbone, scraping them over his temple, biting that never-fucking-healing bruise on his jaw --

Bruce is *sucking* and biting --

"Fuck, baby, tell me -- tell me what you're gonna do to me?"

"What I *want*," she says, and shoves her hands into his hair, pulls *hard* until Jason tilts his head back and she can go for his neck.

He *doesn't* like this as much as she does, but that's a lot like saying that he likes his dick played with more than she does -- fucking *useless* comparison, especially once she starts tracing patterns with her tongue --

No, that's Bruce, and he's making Jason's thighs *shake* --

No, that's both of them, completely fucking synched up and -- taking him. *Fucking* him, even though neither of them have really *gone* for his ass, yet --

Will they? Will -- Jesus, he can *feel* it, that ache inside that always meant some part of him was *ready* to get fucked, and there's the shame that goes with it, the *anger* that makes him reach for Tim and get his shoulders bounced off the floor again --

She wants him to be *still*. And he -- he can be. He *can*, it's just that he's fucking *needy* right now, sweating enough to give both of them a little salt on their tongues, so fucking *hard* --

"Touch me. Just -- one of you, grab my fucking *dick* --"

"Not *yet*," Tim says, and she's licking Jason's ear, the same one Bruce was whispering into. *She's* not whispering, and he knows the moment Bruce understood her -- as opposed to just hearing her -- by the way his hands just *stop* at the place where Jason's thighs meet his torso.

"*Fuck*, baby, *please* --"

"You can't take it, Jay?"

"I --" A dare, and he can't *not* answer it, fucking *live* it -- "I can take it," he says, and pretty much *immediately* moans, because she's fucking his ear with her tongue and *moving* on him, grinding down with her hips --

She's straddling him too far *up*, and God, she doesn't work her hips like that *enough*, not unless someone's *inside* her --

"Jesus, don't *waste* that, baby --"

"I'm not wasting *anything*," she says, and scratches her way down Jason's cheeks, down his throat -- *squeezes* his throat, and the shock makes him buck again --

Bruce *moans*, pants -- "Tim. I want. I'd like to --"

"Not *yet*," she says again, and kisses Jason like the hottest punishment in the world, *taking* again, and it's starting to be a tease, starting to *force* Jason to think about all the things she *won't* do. He's begging into her mouth as she kisses, as she squeezes and grinds and *kisses* -- break. "I know what you want, Jay."

"Yeah. *Fuck*, yeah --"

"I can't always --" She growls again and shakes her head. "I'll give it to you. Right now," she says, and moves off him. "Let him get up onto his knees, Bruce."

"Are you quite sure I can't convince you --"

"*Now*," and her voice is like a shot, like a -- okay, *not* a whipcrack, but it fucking well makes Bruce *move*.

Jason sits up in time to watch the end of him staring at her, watch his eyes fucking *burn* --

"You'll *get* what you want, Bruce," she says, and turns back to Jason, pulls his head down and kisses him again -- *bites* him. "Up on your knees."

And maybe he's reeling a little bit, because he can't fucking *remember* being this hard without a little direct *touch*, and -- God. He can smell her and he can smell *Bruce*, but mostly he can smell himself, sweat and sex-funk, and that sound he keeps hearing is his own moan. "I -- please, Tim --"

"I've got you," and she slips around behind him and bites the back of his neck --

Jason moans again and tries to think of something to do with his hands, tries to find something that at least looks a *little* like control --

"Jay," Bruce says, and somehow he's kneeling in front of Jason, cupping his face.

"Yeah, B...? I... uh -- fuck, Tim, your *mouth* --"

She bites him *harder*, hums against his skin and licks, quick and wet, sucks --

"Jay, you look..." Bruce shakes his head and kisses him slowly, gently -- too fucking *sweet*, only Tim's raking her nails up and down Jason's back, Tim's reaching down to cup his ass --

*Please*, only Bruce is still kissing him so it only sounds like noise, Bruce is -- God, it feels like he's tasting Jason's *need*, like it's something that can coat his mouth, slide through every part of him --

His palms ache with the need to *touch*, and -- Bruce is right there. He fumbles a little when he goes for Bruce's waist, brushes his knuckles against the skin there, feels Bruce's warmth and wants more, wants touch. Bruce pulls back --

"Please, B. God, she's -- I --"

"Is it a tease, Jay?"

"Yes. No. Fuck, I -- oh, *fuck* --"

She's still biting his *neck*, but her hand is in his cleft, her fingers are *slick* -- she hums against his neck and lets go, licks over the tooth marks until Jason is shuddering --

"You. You sure, baby? You want --"

"Just my fingers, Jay. For now," she says, and Jason nods, tries to fight back the disappointment --

And then doesn't *have* to try, because she's sliding her fingers over Jason's hole again and again, pushing a little more every time she strokes over the pucker, and Jason *grips* Bruce to keep from reaching for himself. She doesn't want him to come that way, or maybe just not to come *yet* --

"Jay," and Bruce is still looking into him, seeing absolutely *everything*, and Jason feels a lot like a kid -- just in a different way. Right now, he's the kid staring up at Bruce and listening to him explain some rule or fact or matter of fucking Gotham penal *law*, trying to understand and feeling stupid and slow, like any minute Bruce is going to figure out he's got the wrong kid.

So *much* of that back then, and it didn't matter what Bruce said or what Alfred did. He was just that helpless and *lost* -- if not hard enough to fucking hurt something, starting with himself. Just -- *damn*, and Jason has to laugh a little, moan when it comes out breathless and *needy* --

"Tim. He needs -- I think Jason needs --"

"He can take it. Can't you, Jay?"

Jason closes his eyes and nods, tries to stroke Bruce as much as he's clutching him -- "I. You know what I need, baby. You always *know* --"

"Not always. But I'm good at educated guesses," she says, and leans in to just *breathe* against the back of Jason's neck, and that's just --

"Fuck. Fuck, Tim, I -- wanna be on my knees for you --"

"You *are*."

"No, I -- bent over something, maybe, holding myself open for you --"

"Oh, yes...?" He can *hear* the smile in Tim's voice, and it's vicious and fucking *hot* --

"I don't know -- please, baby, fuck me a little, always wanted -- you know what I *want* --"

"Bruce," she says, *right* against the wet spot on Jason's neck -- "You're going to suck him --"

And Jason tries to bite back the groan just for that, just for -- fuck, Bruce *on* him, and he could have that right now. He *will* have it *soon* --

"Tell me when, Tim," and Bruce's voice sounds like 'yes' and sounds like 'now' and sounds a *lot* like 'hurry the hell *up*,' which is something Jason can *relate* to, only --

That push. That -- two fingers, not one, and it's slow and fucking *ruthless*. Jason squeezes Bruce's sides hard and thinks about the last time someone had -- no, it's her, it's -- "Talk to me, baby. Just -- let me hear you --"

"You're *tight*," she says, and licks his neck again. "Hot inside. It feels like you're trying to keep me *out* --"

"No. No, I'm -- please don't *stop*, Tim --"

"I won't. Not now. You're..." Tim's laugh is rueful and quiet. "I don't know why it surprises me how much you want this, considering the fact that I want this from you every *day* --"

"Always, Tim, you can always -- oh fuck, *fuck*, don't --"

She freezes inside him, and when he opens his eyes, Bruce is searching him *hard*, trying to figure this out so he won't make the same mistake when it's his turn, maybe.

Jason gasps, tries to catch his breath -- "Just -- not my prostate, baby, not yet, I can't --"

"You just want to feel me thrusting, Jay? I can *do* that," she says, and then she's fucking him with her fingers, one thrust after another until Jason's moaning constantly, sweat all over his skin, stinging his eyes a little --

He can't *focus*, but he knows Bruce is still searching him for cues and clues, for the moment when he can fucking *have* him -- "I -- God, you -- tell me you like this, Tim, tell me you'll do it *again* --"

"*Yes*," she says. "I -- you said you'd do anything for me, Jay --"

"I would. I *will*, just -- fucking *God*, baby, your fingers are so *hard* --"

"*Jay*," and that was Bruce -- Jason had closed his eyes again at some point, and he opens them again. His vision is going a little wild on him, like he's maybe using too *much* of his brain just to feel Tim fucking him, making him slick, open -- *Bruce*, right there and showing his *teeth* a little.

"It's -- this is getting you hot, B --"

"*Yes*. I want to see everything, every moment. I want to *feel* --"

"Wait your *turn*," Tim says, fucking *Batgirl* says, because there's a tease there for both of them --

"Tim. Tell me -- Jay's *scent* --"

"He smells wonderful. This is the scent I've become accustomed to falling asleep to, this is the *heat* --" She pants and growls again, *twists* her fingers --

Jason shouts and lets his head fall back --

And Bruce kisses his throat so hard that Jason thinks it's a bite at first and tenses for the pain that doesn't come --

"Clenched around me. So *tight*, Jay -- you're making me want to. Want to be *inside* you --"

"*Please*," he says, and he can feel his dick twitching, feel himself leaking pre-come fucking steadily --

"I think. I think it would *hurt*," Tim says, and she sounds shocked, horny and fucking *incredulous* -- Bruce pulls back and pants against Jason's throat, licks him there and up to his ear --

"Tim," Bruce says. "He wants so *much* --"

"And you've been *waiting*. Yes, I know, Bruce, but you have to understand that Jason *likes* to hurt this way, that --"

"Better," Jason says, *squeezing* his eyes shut. "Makes it better, makes me *harder* --"

"Please," and Bruce cups Jason's shoulders. "Please, I need --"

"Soon," Tim says, and Jason wants to thank her, wants to kiss her and fuck her and suck her, *that*, something -- something in his *mouth*, and his arms *and* hands are clumsy and next to useless, but he still manages to grab one of Bruce's hands and bring it to his mouth --

"Oh. Jay. Will you suck?"

He's too slow getting Bruce's fingers into his mouth, and so the whimper is loud and fucking *obvious* --

Tim moans --

Bruce's hands *shake* --

Jason sucks and lets his eyes roll back into his head. Just -- he'd had Bruce's fingers in his mouth last night, he'd sucked off his and Tim's come, had *control* enough to do it a little slow and *savor* it. Now -- he can taste his own *dick* on Bruce's fingers, and he's moaning for it, drooling for it like maybe it's Bruce's or Tim's --

He's fucking *desperate*, and Tim just keeps fucking him, a nasty little corkscrewing *thrust* that he's working his hips for, that he needs *more* of. No one had ever --

It's never been like *this*, so ruthless and so *sweet*, and Jason knows that part of that is the fact that Tim really *could* just keep doing this forever and ignore her own dick, but some of it is just that it's good, that it's --

A burn, deep pressure -- a little stretch and the sense that it could be more, that he could be *full*. Outside it's all about being them, about knowing that Bruce is watching him like there's nothing else in the world, that Tim is laser-focused on what she's doing, that she won't stop until he tells her to, and maybe not until he *begs* --

"Jay, I'm going to crook my fingers."

Oh, God. Oh, *fuck* -- he nods and Bruce moans, strokes Jason's arms restlessly --

*Bright* heat, pleasure so fucking --

So --

He could come from this, untouched. He could -- it would fucking *break* him. He can't even *see* himself after this, can't imagine --

So *good*, and she's doing it steadily, now, pushing up for every thrust, and Jason can't suck, anymore. He's panting and drooling around Bruce's fingers, trying to remember not to bite *down* --

"You are... incredible like this," she says, thoughtful and *wondering*. "I never thought -- Bruce, *now*."

And Jason feels himself shuddering all over -- and he cries out when Bruce takes his fingers away, *clutches* Bruce's hand --

"Oh. Jay --" Bruce groans and pushes his fingers back in, and then he shifts, moves back --

Bends *down*, and that's Bruce's other hand on his hip, and that's Bruce's mouth pressed to the head of his dick, Bruce's lips dragging back and forth, Bruce's *cheek*. And Jason can't keep himself from trying to imagine it, four years wanting *this* and convinced he'd never have it. Four years dealing with Jason *teasing* him and running off to fuck high school girls before Tim came along, and then going on and on nearly every night about her, about how much he *wanted* --

And then he *can't* think, because Bruce has the head in his mouth, because Bruce is sucking *lightly*, holding his mouth there for Jason to fuck with every buck of his hips, every --

Tim presses up *hard*, and the sound Jason makes doesn't even sound *human*. He's shuddering again and fucking *gnawing* on Bruce's fingers. He's sweating and groaning and he can't stop *moving*, can't stop --

Bruce *swallows* him, and it's tight, so tight and *hot*, so *perfect*, and it's Bruce. Bruce's lips, Bruce's tongue, Bruce's *throat*, and the feel of him swallowing, over and over --

Wet sounds from the front *and* the back, and Tim is pressed as close as she can get and still keep thrusting, arm wrapped around Jason's chest and head on his shoulder. It -- she's *watching* Bruce do this, and maybe Bruce is looking up at her, telling her something about how Jason tastes --

He needs --

Jason sucks *hard* on Bruce's fingers, and Bruce takes it as an *order*. Bruce --

*Tim*, playing with his fucking *nipple*, tugging on it in time with her thrusts, and he's choking off Bruce's moan, he's --

God, the *feel*, a buzz in his skin and that pressure, that knot around the base of his spine, so tight he can't think anymore, can't do anything but suck and moan and fuck.

It's all he's good for right now, and so it's a damned good thing that it's all they apparently *want* from him. He *knew* it would be like this if she ever fucked him, it's just that he'd thought he'd need her *dick* first, that he'd be able to handle it if she ever pushed a finger up his ass just to see --

Just to --

He knows this is an *experiment* for her, or something like it, that she just doesn't *think* this way when it comes to sex, and maybe that's part of what's making him so crazy right now -- the knowledge that, when it comes right down to it, she might decide that this *doesn't* do it for her.

He has to get this while he *can*. Take it and *feel* it with all of himself --

With all of himself that isn't being given to Bruce right now, that Bruce isn't taking right down his *throat*. He needs --

He lets go of Bruce's hand and grabs his head, instead, mussing Bruce's hair and feeling the sweat from his scalp, pushing through and trying not to pull too hard, trying --

Bruce bares his fucking *teeth*, and Jason bites down hard on his fingers --

Tim growls out and thrusts *harder*, fucking *punching* her way in --

In --

No, not yet, not -- he doesn't want this to *stop* --

"Come, Jay," and Tim's lips are pressed to his ear. "Bruce would prefer you keep fucking his mouth for... oh, hours, probably, but *I* need you to come."

Jason whimpers again, shakes his head and clenches --

She *hisses* --

That fucking *burn*, pulsing through his body in waves, slicing through him with every thrust into Bruce's mouth, against his *teeth* --

"*Come*," and she *bites* his ear, crooks her fingers --

Gone, everything at once. It's just him and the *blast* of feeling, and the way it centers itself and makes him pulse and spill, shudder and *yell* --

"Good boy..."

And for a moment it feels like it'll just go on forever, that he'll be *trapped* in the pleasure until he's a gibbering fucking *wreck*. Worse than that --

Better --

And Jason knows it'll be over much too soon, and knows that he's on his knees with his head thrown back, that he's holding on to Bruce's fingers with his teeth, that Bruce is pulling *back* --

Moaning, or someone is, someone --

Slammed back into his body with a jerk, and he's panting and still *whimpering*. Tim's not moving her fingers, anymore, but Bruce is still trying to *suck* him. "Nothing -- nothing left," he says, and tugs on Bruce's hair --

He gets exactly *nowhere* with that, and this time the whimper is all about *pain*, the kind that fucking *unmans* you, because there's nothing you can do about it --

"Bruce -- *please* --"

Bruce growls and *yanks* himself back, sitting up on his knees -- his eyes are squeezed shut and *he's* shaking. He's still wearing his shorts, and the jock has to be fucking *murder*. Hell, Tim's still *fully* dressed, pressed close and -- kissing Jason's ear softly.

Jason reaches up and grabs the arm she has around his chest, reaches up and back and pets her hair. "Bruce. Baby. That was fucking incredible."

Tim's pressed close enough that he can *feel* her smile against his ear, but Bruce's hands are fisted at his sides --

"I think," she says, "that Bruce could use some attention."

Jason grins, letting it be as lazy and wide as it wants to be. "You always were the smart one, baby."

"Mm. I'm going to pull out."

"Yeah, okay, just gimme a sec," and Jason evens out his breathing a little more -- tries to. It's hard to do when Bruce looks like *that*. "B, you wanna... uh."

Stay right there on his knees, looking like he hasn't had sex since sometime before Jason was *born*, and never mind this morning *or* last night.

"Okay, then," Jason says, and closes his eyes against it until he *can* breathe a little easier -- and wince when Tim pulls out. It doesn't hurt so much as it feels like it *should* hurt. In one way or another. It *shouldn't*, though, and that enough to keep his breathing steady right up until he opens his eyes and Bruce --

Bruce has his eyes open, and he's looking at both of them. Tim tugs against the hold Jason has on her arm and pulls back -- Bruce's eyes track her and then go right back to Jason.

"You know, B, you're really gonna have to... uh. We're *here*, you --"

"Yes. You're here. And you... I've tasted you now. I honestly thought that would soothe some part of me," Bruce says, and flexes his bitten fingers. "I will never --" He shakes his head. "Jay, Tim. What would you have of me?"

Never... what? Be soothed? Let them go? Finish an important *sentence*? Jason shakes it off internally and turns back to check on Tim. She's standing up and stripping down, and Jason's up to help before the thought actually gets a chance to form in his brain.

She laughs when he helps her pull the t-shirt off, and that makes kissing her more important than anything else for a few moments, including getting her shorts off. She'd *fucked* him, and at least part of her *wanted* it, and wants to do more --

God, he *wants* more. Right *now*, even, but he'll settle for her laughing into his mouth and tugging on his hair. She's happy, *he's* happy, and if Bruce wasn't there he'd pick her up and carry her for a while. She probably wouldn't let him get her up the stairs that way, but --

He feels *good*, and he knows she knows it. She's stroking his cheek with one hand and kind of *coiling* his hair around the fingers of her other hand, twisting and tugging here, there -- okay, so he's *really* going to need to *wash* his hair before too much more time has passed, but he can fucking live with being the dirty boy, right now and for-fucking ever. He spins her around a little bit and gets nipped --

"Bruce," she says, and turns away from him. "You should tell us what you *want* --"

"Both of you find that sort of conversation... easier, than I do."

"You didn't let me finish," and Tim twists out of Jason's grip and kind of *prowls* over to Bruce, putting a hand on her hip and staring down at him. "You should tell me what you want... so I can decide whether or not you're going to *get* it."

Oh... damn. He'd thought she was *done* with that. He'd really -- usually when she's laughing in his arms, it means it's time for *him* to start doing some pushing, but she's just standing there hipshot, wearing nothing but her shorts and her jock...

*Is* she hard?

How hard *would* she hit him if he went for her cock right now?

And how is *Bruce* dealing with this? Jason walks over beside her, carefully *not* reaching out to touch her this time -- possibly she was just letting him *celebrate*, before -- and Bruce is staring up at her like she's the goddess who'd just pissed him *off*.

It's not like he doesn't think Bruce could take on a deity and probably do pretty well in the final score tally --

"You *were* talking about what you'd like to do to me to Jason earlier," she says, and reaches out to cup Bruce's chin. "If it helps, think of it as an *order*."

And Bruce's expression kind of... shifts, anger becoming something like a *mean* amusement --

"Oh, you don't want to fight me on this, Bruce. You *want* what I can give you --"

"I'm *not* Jason, Tim."

She shows her teeth. It *is* a smile, but that part seems almost like a fucking *afterthought*.

"Uh... B. You *know* you'd --"

She puts up a hand to stop him. She doesn't *look* at him, but --

"Bruce," she says, and scratches his jaw and throat *slowly*. "While it's true that we may judge you for your desires --"

"That *isn't* the problem," Bruce says, uncurling his fists and resting his hands on his thighs.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that it's simple embarrassment? A desire to retain an *appropriate* distance?"

"Tim."

And *that* was a warning. Enough of one that Jason's wondering if the next thing Tim says will wind up with her pinned and pissed *off* again --

She tilts her head to the side and strokes up over Bruce's chin to his mouth. Bruce shudders and Jason *tenses* --

Bruce doesn't move.

"Was it something involving my genitals, Bruce? You seem... fascinated by my reticence."

Jason thinks *hard* about just *telling* her what Bruce had said, but he *knows* that Bruce doesn't want him to -- not *now*, anyway. And it's not what *Tim* wants, either --

"Jason has been quite fixated on improving my attitude toward that sort of touch, while you have merely been... greedy."

"I didn't --" Bruce frowns and looks away.

Tim sighs and nods. "You've sinned in your mind. Does the guilt truly bother you, or are you just impatient with this line of conversation? We could change the subject."

Bruce doesn't say a word, but his breathing is audible now, *rough* --

"Bruce. A very intelligent woman once explained to me that our desires will remain fulfilled only in the realm of fantasy if we don't own up to them, and admit them where there seems to be... will. And I? Have a great deal of will."

Motion -- much too fast to track, and Tim is straddling Bruce's lap, bent backwards and held *still*. Jason can see the tension in the arm Bruce has around her back from here, and he's glaring at her pretty damned *hard* --

"Do *not* pretend that you wouldn't prefer *this*, Tim."

Tim cocks her head to the *other* side. "If we're talking about preferences, Bruce... I asked first."

And Bruce keeps glaring for a *long* moment, long enough that Jason's starting to really *feel* the fact that he's the only one naked --

Bruce *crushes* her against his body hard enough to make her gasp -- and then relaxes his grip and closes his eyes.

Jason moves enough that he can see *Tim's* eyes -- they're bright and fucking avid. *Waiting* --

"I want -- I want to have you in my mouth, Tim," Bruce says, and opens his eyes again. "I would -- surprise you --"

"*Take* me unawares...?"

"*Yes*."

"That's not going to happen today, Bruce. Choose again."

*

Jason makes a soft noise that sounds a little like shock. It's possible that she's projecting more than a little bit, though -- she's not sure how she'd managed to pull this off as much as she *has*.

Just -- Jason is one thing, one beautiful and perfect --

He'd felt so *good* inside, so hot and tight around her fingers, clenching around her fingers --

And Bruce is warm against her. Almost *hot*. They're chest to chest, and if he's thinking about the breasts she currently has tucked away in *two* different drawers, now...

No, he's thinking about her, and looking at her like he wants to shake her and like he wants to eat her *alive*. And he still hasn't told her whatever fantasy it was that had made Jason say "she'd love it." It *wasn't* having Bruce's mouth on her -- Jason knows her well enough for that -- so... what?

A part of her really just needs to *know*, and she'd be lying to herself if she even tried to think that that wasn't part of what's letting her *do* this. Bruce *whispering* to Jason, touching him *just* like they'd been partners for years and *could* have this, too.

Bruce -- he'd known she'd be jealous and a little hurt and he'd done it *anyway*, and yes, the part which needs to know is much, much smaller than the part which needs to make him *pay*, at least a little. Forgiving has very, very little to do with forgetting. She shifts on Bruce's lap, doing it slowly enough that even the jock won't protect him from how it feels.

It's certainly not protecting *her*, but Babs, Dinah, *and* Selina had all been quite fond of the concept of 'no pain, no gain.' When her knees are planted comfortably to either side of Bruce's thighs, she reaches up to cup his face again. "Well...?"

Bruce's jaw is tight with tension against her fingers, and she rubs it, a little. And -- something about that makes his eyes soften, a little. If it gets him closer to owning *up* --

"You were beautiful over the horse, Tim. Wild, yet accepting. Welcoming and abandoned, at once," he says, and leans fractionally closer.

A *request* for a kiss, and that's much better than what he'd been doing before --

"I'd like to take this moment to agree whole-fucking-heartedly with B, baby," and Jason is close enough to touch -- but only if she takes her hand from Bruce's face.

"Good to know," she says, and strokes Bruce's cheekbone with her thumb. "That's done for the day."

"Only for the day...?" There's a smile in Bruce's voice, apologetic and hopeful at once.

Is *that* what he'd wanted? What Jason had thought she'd enjoy? She can't *quite* tell. "Would you usurp Jason's position?"

"I'd ask to take his place for a time. I..." Bruce sighs and leans in another fraction of an inch --

Tim pushes him back with the hand on his face --

Bruce nods. "All right. Yes, I -- I would *hurt* you, Tim. Your penis and your scrotum. I would make your skin sensitive enough that every touch would be..." Bruce frowns and turns away again, resisting Tim's efforts to keep him facing forward.

Look at *me* -- no. That won't work. She eases the pressure on Bruce's face and strokes at the places which must be sore, now --

Bruce shivers and swallows.

"Jesus, baby --"

"Wait," she says to Jason, and touches the healing cut at the corner of Bruce's mouth. It should be in better shape than it is, but they haven't exactly been treating it as well as they could.

It must look like a *target* to Gotham's criminal element. Any number of them must've aimed for it last night -- and left themselves open for devastating body blows. She thinks about leaning in to kiss it, but Bruce is a little too close to the edge for that sort of treatment now. Instead, she strokes the skin around it lightly and squeezes Bruce's thighs with her knees.

"I'll let you do it one day, Bruce. Jason is right -- I'd enjoy it a great deal."

Jason moans and shifts in the corner of her vision --

Bruce opens his mouth and pants twice before closing it again and turning back to face her.

Tim nods and strokes his cheek, pushes her hand up into his hair. "Good boy."

His eyes *flare* -- "What do you want."

"More, Bruce. If we're going to do this, we have to be as open with each other as we can --"

"That *isn't* the rationale behind... this."

Tim smiles. "No...? Perhaps not. But it's true, just the same. It's also true that you want to be... led, just a little. You put a great deal of time and effort into showing us just how *weak* you are, parading your lack of control in front of us like a truly beautiful new dress."

"An interesting analogy," Bruce says, but the tease in his voice is aimed badly, and lacks the force he *could* bring to bear.

"Don't fight me. Not for this. You want someone else to be the strong one, to be the one in *control*. More than that -- you *need* it, or you wouldn't have been begging for it in every indirect way you could find --"

"Tim. If you're going to tell me what I supposedly --"

It's a stretch, but she can get her hand around the front of Bruce's throat *enough*. "Ask. For. It."

"Fucking *A*," Jason says, and the *wonder* in his voice is...

Very, very inspiring. "Now, Bruce. Or I walk away and take Jason with me." If she can. If --

He sees what she's not saying, and that's *problematic*, but Jason isn't protesting. He *knows* she's right, or at the very least that she *needs* this -- Bruce needs it, too.

She lets go of him with her knees and starts backing away --

"Please," Bruce says. "Please -- don't."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

His nostrils flare and he's glaring again, jaw *tense* again --

"*Say* it, Bruce --"

"You doubt your own power, but you'll use it just the same. You don't wish to be cruel, but you'll do *that* just the same --"

"Profile me *later* --"

"*Take* me," Bruce *grits*, grabbing her hips and pulling her in close again, nuzzling her face with his nose -- no, dragging it over her face, down to just above her mouth before breathing in -- "*Use* me. For your pleasure. For -- Jay. What he wants. What he *must* take from me --"

Tim licks a stripe up over Bruce's face, stabs at the cut and turns her head enough to bite his jaw, right at the place where the best punches can drop a man, right where she's marked Jason time and time again --

Bruce *thrusts* up against her and squeezes her hips --

"Let go," she says, quiet and *hard* --

And Bruce almost *yanks* his hands away from her, curling them into fists and dropping them to his sides.

Tim nods and pushes on his jaw, forcing him to tilt his head back and to the side. She leans in -- and thinks about it. "Jay."

"*Right* fucking here, baby, *Jesus*."

More wonder in his voice, more of the sort of shock he'd call 'cock-dumbness,' and the blush is *late*, but very much there. It's -- she can see Bruce's pulse, fast and strong. She can smell him and his *arousal*.

She'd just *pushed* him -- she's not done. "Bite him," she says, and rests a finger on his pulse point. "Here."

"Anything you *say*," and he moves up close, resting a hand between her shoulder blades and leaning in -- pausing. "Hard?"

"Oh -- yes," and she stands up, pushing down on the part of her *only* thinking about Bruce's lap, about everything Bruce could -- *would* -- do to her, for her --

She stands *up*, and locks her knees against the sound of Bruce's *grunt*, the sight of him with his mouth open, the sight of him licking his lips and *panting* for the feel of Jason's bite, or maybe the way he's groaning while he does it.

Bruce's hands are still down at his sides, but... *but*. "Alternate with sucking. Leave a *big* mark," she says, and forces herself to walk away.

She's not going far -- she *knows* she's not going far, but suddenly the jock she's wearing is *torture*, and not just in the way where she'd prefer to be wearing a gaff. She laughs at herself internally -- she couldn't manage any other way --

Bruce *moans* from behind her and she walks *faster*, and definitely doesn't turn around to look -- to *see* --

The uniforms and supplies are exactly where they always are, and even though they really couldn't have gotten to be anywhere else in the time since she's last been there, it's still a relief. It's still -- well, she's going to *do* this, and so she needs all the help in the form of basic Cave-universal truths she can *get*. She pulls a zip-strip from her supply and takes a breath. Just -- breathes, and --

Is Jason still biting and sucking at Bruce's throat? Is he doing anything --

Would he maybe want her to back away, a little? Leave them this? If *Jason* had been the one pushing Bruce to admit what he wanted, Bruce wouldn't have put up as much of a fight. Or -- maybe?

She runs the zip-strip between her fingers once, again, coils it around her wrist -- tries to *think*. Bruce *would've* given in to Jason, but for this? This need to be taken and, perhaps, somewhat *owned*?

Isn't that more shameful than all the rest? Not for *Jason* -- not with *her*, anyway -- but... but.

A part of her is back in the moments after pulling out of Jason, getting spun around and kissed, held -- he was so *happy*, and she'd given him that. Bruce had most likely been the one to *get* Jason to the point where he was able to come, but she'd given him... a lot more than her fingers. He --

("I'm *all* yours, baby.")

That had been a lie, but a well-meant one, and -- not entirely a lie. She swallows against the thing inside her, the knowledge of Jason's love for her that's always going to make her feel *just* this scared, just this beautiful, just --

Even after he doesn't love her, anymore, and -- she's not thinking about that, now, she --

("You're no good to anyone.")

Barbara. Barbara would *approve* of this, in that way where she disapproves of the forest but still finds some of the individual trees well worth the time and effort it took to grow them. Batgirl should *always* take control, whether or not it's what she wants... the most.

And walking back would be a lot easier if she didn't want it to *some* extent. As it is --

As it is, Jason's hand is moving on Bruce's chest, stroking and petting and *soothing* even as he bites and sucks, *works* Bruce's throat --

She feels herself *twitch*, feels herself shudder and fucking *repress*, again --

One day she's going to have to actually *talk* to Barbara about her issues with her body. She doesn't have *that* kind of experience, but maybe -- maybe she'd know something, or say something which would finally make it easy for her to do this:

Push her shorts down and remove the jock, *stand* there looking ridiculous --

Bruce looks up at her, and his expression -- he looks lost, hungry, *hurt*. He *needs*, and she'd already confessed -- to *him* -- what that does to her. She doesn't need to confess to herself, and Batgirl would --

Batgirl strokes a line down the center of Tim's chest that Bruce follows with his gaze. His knuckles are showing *white* in those fists, and Jason is making small noises, helpless noises of want, of need.

And maybe they *don't* need her, but the want is there, and she knows exactly how to take advantage of that. "Jay. Stop."

Jason's hand freezes on Bruce's chest and he makes another noise against Bruce's throat -- pulls back and pants, torso hitching --

"Stand up, Bruce."

Another flare in his eyes, a burn she can feel, a touch she could have if she just asked for it -- and she probably wouldn't have to do it in words, even now --

"Do it."

He does, graceful and massive, perfect everywhere he isn't scarred, and where he is -- perfect isn't even a consideration. He's *Batman* -- but not right now.

She nods and runs the zip-strip between her fingers again. He knows what it's for -- and Jason does, too, when he turns to look at her. His eyes get just that *wide*, and oh, she'd seen them in so many pictures -- Barbara had shared that with her, and there was always a moment to be startled, to *stare* at those eyes. Such a *deep* blue, so large and bright, fringed with long, curling lashes...

Tim laughs at herself again and lets the smile part of it out --

"Fuck, baby, are you gonna --"

"Strip, Bruce."

"So *that* was a yes. I'm just gonna stay right here, on my knees, in case there's *anything* you'd like me to do --"

"I'll keep you informed," she says, and watches Bruce, watches his hands fumble, slightly, at the waistband of his shorts before he pushes them down. Briefs and jock, too, and his penis is dark and slick.

Mouthwatering, if she's honest with herself, and -- there's nothing to say she can't just stare. It suits this *to* stare, to take all of Bruce in -- perhaps in a way he'd find familiar from the other side. When she meets his eyes again... his pupils are blown. At this distance, she can't see any blue, at all.

A part of her thinks his eyes should always be this dark, that he shouldn't ever be *allowed* to have control over himself, because he doesn't know what to *do* with it --

Jason swallows with an audible click. "Baby --"

"Soon," she says, and, "turn around and hold your wrists together, Bruce."

He moves slowly, but he *moves*, and -- what would this be like for her? If she'd had to ask for what she wanted for more than just those times when she needed Jason to touch her penis? If they'd ever asked her to *display* herself when she wasn't being beautiful, being *correct* --

"I -- I'm enjoying the way your muscles move, Bruce. The tension in your shoulders and neck, the way that scar on your right trapezius seems to pull almost painfully..."

"It's. There's no discomfort," he says, offering and -- asking. For more.

Tim moves close and hands the zip-strip to Jason so she can grip his wrists with both hands. "You're a beautiful man. Staggeringly so. I remember watching you with Jason from across a dozen crowded rooms, wondering if you'd ever let your gaze fall on me for more than a moment..."

"Jesus. Yeah, he *knew*. And didn't fucking *tell* me --"

"You never." Bruce exhales and swallows. "You always wanted me to keep the secret, Jay. Or -- I thought you did."

"Yeah, yeah, don't bother me with *logic*, B," and Jason sits back on his heels. "And I'm interrupting Tim, besides. This is me, shutting the fuck up."

Tim turns and smiles at him --

Jason's grin for her is somewhat... loopy. He looks almost *stoned*, but not in any way which would be unpleasant. And he's half-hard.

Tim turns back to Bruce -- and leans in to lick the hollow of his spine.

"Tim."

"Do you ever want to be hurt, Bruce? Has anyone ever done that for you?"

Bruce's forearms flex and he twists his wrists -- he could break her hold in a moment, have her on the floor in another. He could make her *pay* for this, and... maybe he will.

It won't be today. "Answer me."

"I don't. I've considered it. And when you used your teeth on me, earlier, I considered it more deeply."

Tim presses her face against his back and nods slowly --

"What. You should. You shouldn't wait."

And if I want to? No, not that. Not -- Tim licks him again and squeezes his wrists as hard as she can. "You've never had anything like this, before."

"No. Tim."

"But you've wanted it. A lifetime devoted to the domination of others, the *control* of others. It's what the world needed from you. And I'm no different," she says, and releases his wrists.

Bruce is holding himself *rigid*, and -- yes, that was a tease. *Damn*. She shakes it off internally and reaches toward Jason, who gives the zip-strip back.

"There's going to be a point where you'll want to -- perhaps need to -- struggle against the zip-strip. I want you to try not to do that. If I wanted your wrists marked... I'd do it myself," and she puts it on Bruce, pulls it -- not too tight.

He tests it and turns around to face her -- *without* permission. She raises her eyebrow.

He stares down into her eyes, and there's a desperation there which manages to seem quiet, almost too small for the rest of him, the *whole* of him -- "Please," he says, and *that's* quiet, too, that's --

And perhaps she's taking too long to respond, because he shudders again, shoulders flexing --

"Control, Bruce. There is..." She bites the inside of her lip and tries to *think*, tries to just -- his *hands*, and she can't feel them on her right now, can't be moved --

But Jason would, if she asked. Jason would assume that making Bruce watch them together was part of her *plan*, because he has *just* that kind of faith in her.

Tim smiles, and lets it be as rueful as it wants to be. "There's only one thing you need to control, right now," she says, and strokes her way up his chest until she can cup and squeeze his shoulders *hard*.

It takes a moment, but he releases the tension there --

And Jason blows out a breath.

Now she just has to decide -- no, *that's* easy. "You said you wanted to take Jason's place for a while, Bruce. Get back down on your knees."

Tension again -- Bruce closes his eyes, mouth a hard *line*.

No. She wraps one hand around the base of his penis and squeezes --

"*Tim*."

His eyes are still closed, though, so she curls the fingers of her free hand up against the underside and scratches, slow and hard.

Pre-come beading at the tip and the sound Bruce makes is rough and deep, animal-sharp --

"Oh *God*, baby, don't -- I. Don't stop?" Jason laughs breathlessly. "I could *feel* that."

Tim teases the slit with one finger. "Did you hear that, Bruce? He's *with* you. We both are -- and will continue to be."

"Yeah, Bruce. You... I didn't know you could be *like* this, but I'm rock fucking hard, and I'm gonna be all *over* you just as soon --"

"*Jay*," Bruce says, and when he opens his eyes, they're wild, unfocused -- until he focuses them on Jason.

"Right here, B. Just -- come down," he says, and pats the floor. "It's okay. You *know* it's okay --"

Bruce's laugh is sharp and *jagged*. "Jay --"

"Bruce," Tim says, and pinches the head of his penis until he's rigid again -- in the *good* way. He shudders and pants, twitches in her hand --

"Fuck, that looks so *good*, B. I could never -- not like this. But Tim --"

"Tim. Yes," he says, and turns back to her. "Please. Let me get on my knees."

That -- it's too much. It's --

All right, a *large* part of her is pointing and laughing at the rest, because she hadn't just asked for this, she'd *demanded* it. Over and over until Bruce *gave*. It's just that he's not *finished* giving, and --

Is this how they feel when *she* begs? Like the world had taken a large and terrifying twist? Like something important inside them is going to seize and *stop*? She stops herself from shaking her head by force of will alone, and then *makes* herself let go. She can't think of anything to *say*, and the feeling only gets deeper, *more*, when he *does* drop to his knees.

He hadn't gone down very hard, but much of his grace was missing, much --

She brings her slick fingers to her face, breathes in because her body needs her to, because --

God, the way he *smells*, and shouldn't she *worry* about the fact that it's getting familiar? She belongs to *Jason*. She --

Bruce is looking up at her, and Jason is, too. Bruce looks hungry and *willing* --

And Jason does, too.

They want this. They -- need this.

And so she licks her fingers, slowly and showily, and she can't help but remember Barbara showing her Selina in action at various times, in various *ways.* Once she'd been in a room full of armed, dangerous men -- in a social club Barbara had had bugged for the better part of a year -- and all she'd had was her whip, her training, and her sexuality.

She'd only needed the *last* one to get the information she'd wanted, and yes, it *was* a lesson Batgirl had needed.

And one that Tim, perhaps, had needed even more. She looks at Bruce and Jason from under her lashes. Jason's watching her mouth without anything which even *looks* like shame or reservation. *Bruce* was waiting for her eyes. The way he's leaning forward makes it almost seem like he's straining against invisible ropes around his chest --

The way he's leaning forward makes Tim want to tie him in every way the internet and a well-spent early adolescence could possibly *suggest*. For *now*, she lets her hand fall back down to her side. "Jay," she says, without looking away from Bruce, "I left the lubricant near the medical supplies. Get it."

"Yes, *ma'am*," he says, rolling to his feet and moving immediately. He pauses in front of her with his eyebrows raised.

She raises one back --

"You know... you can tie *me* up, anytime," he says, and his grin doesn't fit with the images in her head. Not *quite*, anyway.

She thinks she'd want *rope* for Jason, something natural and textured for him to fight against, something that would look *interesting* against flushed skin, skin a little dark from actual exposure to the sun the way Barbara wants for both of them --

And he *would* fight, and struggle, but it would only be for more. She could make him beg so *easily*, only it would be even more fervent than he usually *gets* --

"And you're totally thinking about it. Good fucking *deal*, baby," Jason says, congratulatory and entirely *pleased* --

"Lubricant," she says, and she thinks her voice might be a little too harsh, but --

It makes him lick his lips. And, when she turns back to Bruce, she can hear Jason *jogging* to the medical area. She'd *tossed* the tube back over there before fingering Jason and she hadn't really thought about why. Now...

Well, she knows. She hadn't wanted it to be there *daring* her to spread some on her penis, or maybe glaring at her for *not* doing it. She hadn't really...

She hadn't been able to cope with that, and it's not like she's doing much better now. At this point, Bruce would probably *enjoy* it if she fucked him, and wouldn't it suit this particular game -- no, it's not a game. It may not be life and death, but nothing that demands she look at this *much* of herself at once could ever be termed a *game*.

And Bruce is watching her steadily, a strand of pre-come hanging from his penis. It hasn't yet reached the floor, but it will, and then she'll have to use every ounce of will she *has* to keep from diving in and swallowing him whole. She's *had* him in her mouth. She knows he *likes* it --

And Jason is back beside her with the tube, holding it out expectantly...

"Keep it," she says. "You'll need it."

Jason moans softly. Bruce -- the tension is back in his shoulders and his eyes are *fiercely* hungry, focused on both of them exactly like he could *will* them to come closer, to be *with* him, and wouldn't she want that?

Wouldn't she *need* to know they needed her to be just like this? She nods and walks to Bruce, watching his focus shift to her penis, her nipples, her legs and back to her penis -- "No," she says, and Bruce tenses again and looks up at her eyes.

The only way to *do* this is to keep doing it, to stop herself from getting lost in all the other things which could be happening, and yes, her own doubts. Bruce is *here* for this, and so is Jason -- currently staring at her from a few feet away. While they would both *understand* if she called time or gave up on this entirely, while she's quite sure that both of them would *enjoy* various alternative activities --

This is some degree of necessary, if only for the parts of her which are now and will always *be* Batgirl --

No, not that, either. This is happening, and that's the only rationale needed. "You're very aroused," she says, and strokes Bruce's mouth with her fingers.

He opens his mouth in pure invitation, and Tim thinks about sucking Bruce's fingers, biting them and *holding* them in her mouth -- she strokes his tongue with the fingers which must still at least *smell* like his pre-come, and he narrows his eyes.

"How much stimulation do you think you need before... escalation occurs, Bruce?"

It's *an* answer that he immediately sucks her fingers into his mouth, that he closes his eyes and leans in to do it more forcefully, more *deeply* --

She pulls out of his mouth. "A verbal answer, if you would."

"Tim," he says. "I want. I've wanted Jason for --"

"A very long time, yes," she says, and drags her wet fingers over his lips, up over his cheek. "Do you want him to penetrate you?"

Bruce's breathing hitches once, again -- he squeezes his eyes shut. "*Yes*."

"Oh... fuck," Jason says, and he moves closer. "Ask him -- or. Fuck, Tim, I don't know if I can --"

"Bruce is very tight," she says, and strokes over his eyelids until he opens them again, stares *into* her, and a part of her is only shuddering, only *thinking* about how that would feel. The pressure and the heat... both of them have described penetrating her in ways too poetic for her tastes -- but. "And you know that he wants you, Jason."

"*Yeah*, but -- damn, baby --"

"*Please*," Bruce says, and his shoulders are straining again, he's leaning *in* again, and his breath on her penis is enough to make her shudder.

She fights it back as much as she can --

"Both. Neither of you have to -- this isn't *necessary*," and Bruce is looking at them both, tensing and seemingly a *moment* away from standing up and acquiring a blade to free himself, or doing something else ridiculous and amazing to *change* this --

"I -- beg to differ," she says, and presses her thumb over his lips, stares into the *wildness* of his eyes. "Jay."

"Uh. Yeah, baby?"

Hesitation, discomfort -- and Bruce is hearing all of it. *Feeling* all of it, and that can't really *stand*. "When I penetrated him, he came nearly immediately."

"Still can't believe you just *did* it, Tim. I... I know he wants it, but I guess I'm kind of... scared?"

That makes Bruce *focus* -- on her. When a request is mated with an order, perhaps it becomes something like the plea in Bruce's eyes. Perhaps. She digs her nail in against his upper lip. "This *won't* change anything -- no, I take that back. It will alter things between the three of us. It will open up new... possibilities," she says, and raises her eyebrow.

Bruce nods.

Jason laughs softly and comes up beside her. "God, B, you look... like a lot of damned sex all at *once*. Baby, I... I think it's just that I've spent a *good* amount of time thinking about Bruce fucking *me* -- Jesus, your *eyes*, B --"

"Talk to *me*," and Tim presses harder against Bruce's mouth -- for Jason's benefit. Bruce isn't fighting her, at all.

"I -- God. Okay. I keep -- I was thinking about what it would feel like to have him inside me. He'd be the first guy -- I want *you* to be the first -- um. Person," Jason says, and turns to look at her.

He's watching her *carefully* from under those lashes, waiting for objection or punishment. Tim smiles, small and probably quite sharp.

"Yeah, okay, just making sure I'm not on *too* thin a layer of ice over here, baby. Um. Maybe if we started real slow and easy? Nothing fancy for a little while?"

"Entirely possible," she says, and it's nothing she wouldn't have wanted if she were in Jason's position. "Kneel down behind him, Jay."

Jason takes a deep breath and does it, setting the tube down, reaching up for Bruce's shoulders and -- pausing.

"Do it," she says, and Bruce tenses even harder and closes his eyes again for Jason's first touch. She's felt that touch a dozen times if she's felt it once, that half-instinctive *skill* Jason has for massage. She knows intellectually that it's just something else he's learned from Bruce, but he doesn't do it like there's a path to follow, or points to hit along a given line.

It manages to be, for her, something that seems both easy and ritualistic, a kind of body worship that, perhaps, *only* people like Jason can manage. People who never live outside their own skins.

After a minute, Bruce starts to respond to it, breathing more deeply and leaning fractionally back toward Jason.

"Yeah, that's it, B -- and I'm not really talking to you at *all*. Um. I just want... him to loosen up some. *Enjoy* this."

"He is," Tim says, and eases the pressure on Bruce's mouth without taking her thumb away entirely. "Aren't you?"

"Jason's touch. His strength has always been prodigious, almost shocking when he was -- younger. I." Bruce squeezes his eyes shut again, frowns *hard* --

But Jason hasn't paused and doesn't seem at all upset. Tim nods internally. "Keep going, Bruce. Tell us more."

Bruce swallows and nods. "I've wanted. When I taught him this, I only meant to provide useful... I never wanted him to *know* --" Bruce shakes his head, rocks slightly --

"More," she says, and taps his mouth with her thumb.

"The first time I saw you through Jason's mask feed, Tim. The way you moved, consciously like Barbara and unconsciously like yourself, the person hidden from me even when I saw you at those *parties*, glimpsed in moments, hints --"

"Bruce --" She cuts herself off and takes a breath. She *hadn't* been specific. "Tell me more about *Jason's* touch."

"Hnn. He tried so hard to keep from relaxing, and to keep from letting me know that he was tense. I knew what he thought I would do --"

Jason gasps and Bruce shakes his head --

"I'm sorry. I'm --"

"No. No, I -- Tim," Jason says, and looks at her from over Bruce's shoulder. His hands are still on Bruce's back, and his eyes are so *wide* --

Tim nods at Jason, and fights against the urge to reach out.

"I need to hear this. I think I -- need to *know* this. And understand it, and just -- fuck, I don't know, but --" Jason goes back to rubbing Bruce's back, conscious this time, forceful -- "Please."

Tim swallows, and wishes she weren't naked for this, but -- no. They need to know this about *her*, too, that it's making her more aroused, that *she* needs to know -- "Keep going, Bruce."

Bruce looks down and pants, and this time when he tenses his shoulders, Jason starts rubbing his arms. It looks a lot less therapeutic, now.

It looks... almost possessive, and certainly demanding. She can't do less. "*Now*."

"He thought I would -- abuse. Molest. He thought I was going to try to initiate sexual contact, and every time I touched him he grew more tense, every place I wasn't touching him -- I knew he could be *hurt* this way, and. A part of me was only worried, and wondering what I could do or say to ease this for him, to -- the feel of his skin against my fingertips. Each touch was a shock, a *thrill*. He had so few scars then, and his skin was soft and smooth. He was finally well-hydrated, nourished -- *please* --"

"What did you *want*, Bruce?"

And Jason is nodding, but his eyes are distant and unfocused. He probably doesn't *know* he's doing it --

Bruce looks up and *glares* at her. "I wanted to *caress*. It was so early in his training, Tim, but his muscles were already defining themselves to my eyes, to my touch. I wanted to rest my hands on his buttocks. I wanted to spread him wide, and touch every secret part of him, learn everything that pleasured him by *experimentation*, and I knew I could pretend the sounds he made were encouragement, that I could tie him again, *take* -- *hn* --"

And that was -- wasn't. Tim looks at Jason and his arms are still. His. He has one hand on Bruce's shoulder, holding tight enough that his knuckles are white. His other hand...

"You're inside him."

Jason nods and closes his eyes for a moment. "Just -- one finger. I can't -- I couldn't."

Tim nods back and doesn't lick her lips, does her best to ignore the feel of herself getting *harder* -- she strokes her penis to keep the pre-come from dripping too egregiously --

"Oh, fuck, baby --"

"Tim."

Down, *boys* -- no, not that. Jason has never *seen* her stroking herself, even for dubious neatness purposes -- she's not going to laugh, either. She brings her hand back to Bruce's mouth and just. Paints his lips a little, shuddering internally at the shine she leaves behind --

"Jesus fucking --"

"Lubricant, Jason. You *don't* want to hurt him."

"No, I -- I know, I just -- I *remember* that night, and it was..." Jason's laugh is cracked and painful. "I guess -- I have to rewrite things a little. Fuck, I want to know how he handled it when I made that *noise*."

And Bruce's eyes are pleading again, his entire body straining -- except for those parts of him which are only *feeling* Jason inside him, knowing that this is *happening* --

"We... will never get anywhere without honesty, Bruce. And hearing this is deeply arousing."

"You're a *pervert*, baby, but since you're perving on me and Bruce, I'm *totally* not complaining."

"Noted."

"And I'm -- I'm gonna pull out, now. Just for a minute."

Tim nods and raises her eyebrow at Bruce. "Lick your lips."

He makes doing it look like the kind of sexual act which *should* last for hours, or at least seem that way. It's over too fast, and Tim considers stroking herself again, maybe this time *just* the head... if she's doing it for *them*, then... then --

*After* Bruce says a little more. "Tell us about the sound Jason made."

"I --" Bruce gasps, almost certainly for the feel of Jason pulling out. He shakes his head and straightens his shoulders --

"*Don't* try to make it sound better than it is --"

"He sounded *helpless*, frightened and sad, *hurt*," and Bruce shudders, stills and -- moans.

Jason is pushing in again. Jason is --

"I'm not any of those things right now, B," Jason says, and his voice is low and dark, *hungry* -- "Still want me?"

And she could say something about how Jason is only supposed to talk to *her*, but --

"*Yes*. I've only wanted --" Bruce growls and shakes his head -- "I would have a *point* at which I could go no lower, be no more monstrous --"

"You're *not* a monster," Tim says, and *grips* herself --

"Fuck, that's so *hot*, baby --"

And Bruce's eyes are on her again, Bruce is panting and staring, lips parted, and Tim doesn't whimper, doesn't moan or *shake*. The feel of her own hand, the calluses she'd worked so hard for, the sweat on her palm --

She strokes, slow and *hard*, and watches Bruce's eyes widen, watches Jason lick his lips and shudder --

She pulls *off* -- and offers her hand to Bruce, palm forward. He licks quick and hard, using the tip *and* the flat. He moans and tries to reach her fingers, straining *up* as if he's tied to the *floor*. She gives him her fingers. "Like *this*, Jay," she says, and starts to thrust --

And she can see the moment when her rhythm matches Jason's, she can feel it in the way Bruce stops sucking and starts to just take it, eyes closed and body shaking. He's being too *quiet*, and Tim's not sure how to fix that, other than to keep giving him more, make *him* keep giving more --

She pulls out slowly and Bruce follows, licks at her fingertips -- shakes again, all over and hangs his head, panting.

"No, Bruce. Look *up*."

Another shudder, but Bruce only seems to be fighting himself. He lifts his head as if it's suddenly twice as heavy as it was a moment ago, and Tim --

Does it really *count* as a blush if she's doing it *while* dragging the head of her penis over Bruce's lips?

"*Jesus*, baby, are you gonna let him?"

"Tell me -- nnh. Tell me how he feels, Jay."

"Tight as all hell. *Hot*, like maybe --" Jason shakes his head. "I can't tell if he *likes* this, baby --"

"Don't -- don't stop. Please," Bruce says, and his voice is breathy and low. He shudders *hard* -- and starts to work his hips back against Jason's hand --

"Oh, *fuck*. Just -- B, you don't *have* to --"

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut again --

Tim squeezes her *penis*, backs off a step -- and watches Bruce strain against the zip-strip again, shoulders *working* -- "Tell him about the first time you wanted *this* from him, Bruce --"

And Bruce -- smiles, soft and almost *beatific*, as if they're finally allowing him something he doesn't have to feel shame for, perhaps --

"*Do* it," she says, letting go of her penis -- she can't keep herself from moaning a little, and they're *both* staring at her just that fast, Jason's shoulder working and Bruce's mouth *slick* -- "Now," she says, barely managing to keep the *shake* out of her voice --

"The first time he threw me successfully," Bruce says, and licks his lips entirely without permission. Does it slow, this time, and stares at Tim like a *meal*. He's *Bruce*, and she's not being especially subtle about how all of this is *affecting* her.

Blood in the water. Certainly, *some* bodily fluid in the water, and she really is *just* that hard, needing a little now -- "Tell me," she says, and it's not very commanding, at all, not --

"His pin was... ineffectual, at best..."

"Heh. To be fair, B, I *wasn't* expecting you to let the pin *happen* --"

Bruce closes his eyes again, seems to search behind the lids -- "He was sweating, and having a difficult time catching his breath. He was moving on me, trying to firm his pin and realizing, perhaps... oh. Oh, Jay --"

"God, *B* --"

"*More*," she says, and that was a growl and a *shout* --

And both of them jump, just a little -- Jason looks *guilty*. Bruce is smiling with his eyes, and with the motion of his hips --

A part of her is on her back with Bruce over her, looking down at her as he *thrusts* -- focus. She can -- she raises an eyebrow and feels like she's lying to both of them, feels like they can *see* how much of a lie the calm is, the sense of waiting --

She grabs Bruce by the jaw. "I'll tell Jay to stop."

The smile in his eyes makes it to his mouth, but it's -- soft. Admiring -- "Tim. Your determination is intoxicating. You fight *around* your wounds, your doubts. You --" Bruce moans, never looking away from her eyes. "I would have your hunger for my own, and knowing that... that the way to get it is to lay myself open for you, for *your* touch --"

She puts pressure on his jaw and he narrows his eyes, *bucks* against Jason's hand --

"*Easy*, you're so fucking tight, I don't want --"

"*I* want," Bruce says, closing his eyes for a moment and licking his lips again. "Tell me what I must do, Tim. *Lead* me."

She -- doesn't *whimper*. She swallows, and swallows again -- "When Jason pinned you -- the way he was moving on you --"

"Innocence. Laughter. He said -- 'I *got* you.' His jock bumped my own. A bead of his sweat landed on my cheek. I didn't wrap my arms around him. I didn't roll us over so that I could pin *him*. I thought of him moving sexually, such. Such a fine *line* -- *Jay* --"

"I'm. I'm crooking my finger. You didn't say --"

"Do it again," she says. "Harder --"

This time the noise Bruce makes is wordless, and his penis twitches, and Tim wants --

*Wants*. "The first time you saw Jay hard, Bruce --"

"Shower. He tried to hide it from me. He. I knew. I knew he didn't want me to get the wrong *idea*. Jay, please. Please --"

"*Thrust* again, Jay --"

"Yeah, yeah, okay -- fuck, baby, I want --" Jason groans and shifts on his knees behind Bruce, and Tim *knows* --

"Can you take another finger, Bruce? Answer *honestly* --"

"Yes. Yes, I." Bruce's eyes are wide, so *dark*. He licks his lips again and turns his head, kisses her thumb, *licks* -- "I want the -- discomfort. The memory of this --"

"You want to *know* this happened, with all of yourself," she says, and thinks about that first time with Jason, the way his penis had seemed to go on for miles inside her, the way she'd felt so full and so good, the way she'd needed it to *hurt* -- "Give it to him, Jay. Don't hesitate --"

Jason moans and winces as he pulls out --

Bruce tilts his head back -- "More. I need -- so much --"

Her penis *aches*, and she's empty, needy -- Jason never makes her *wait* this long. He's always there for her, always ready when she needs him to be --

When Bruce needs him to be --

"Two. Just -- I'm so fucking hard again, baby, I don't -- I don't even know what I *want*."

Tim growls and squeezes Bruce's face because she can't squeeze her penis again, not without needing -- more. They *all* need more. "When Jason was -- was *giving* me to you, Bruce --"

"I could touch where he had -- touched. Jay. Jay, please, it feels --" Bruce shakes his head and pushes *back* --

"Fuck, I was trying to be *slow* --"

Bruce groans and shudders *again*, and when Tim gives him her thumb, he groans again, slurred and *wet*. He sucks and -- and goes *down* on her thumb, the same rhythm Jason must be using --

No, it *is* the same rhythm, because Bruce is *working* his hips, staring at her expectantly, desperately --

Tim takes her thumb back and sucks it into her own mouth, reaches for her sac with her other hand --

"Oh, baby, *yes*, show me, show *us* --"

She squeezes hard and feels her knees trying to give out on her, tries helplessly to mimic the way Jason's mouth had moved on her, scrapes at herself with her nails --

"*Tim*," Bruce says, and it's an *order*, but it's not his *place* --

"Say what you *want*, Bruce," and she sounds like she's begging a little, but she can't control that, anymore, can't control *anything* --

("You're no good --")

"*Say* it," she says, and wonders if that growl is any better. Both of them *know* that growl from her, know what it *means* --

"I want Jay to take -- take me. I want you in my *mouth*, Tim, want to feel you with my tongue, taste you and swallow you. Hold you. Pleasure you -- I. I promise to use my *teeth*," and Bruce is straining again, Bruce seems even larger than he *usually* does like this, as if the zip-strip is constraining something far more important that just his arms --

She's losing the thread and everything along *with* it, and why had she thought she'd be able to *do* this?

*Had* she thought?

She laughs and squeezes herself again. "Do you think... Bruce. Do you think you *deserve* it?"

And Bruce's eyes are wide and *shocked* --

Jason is gasping --

"You know what you want, Bruce," she says, and lets go of herself. "You know what you *need*. But you're here, on your knees..."

"Helpless," he says, and he hardly even seems to be *blinking*.

Tim cups his face with both hands -- and nudges his sac with her foot.

"*Tim* --"

"Do. You. Deserve it." And she pushes her hands into his hair, *yanks* his head back so she can stare directly into his eyes. She knows she must be pleading behind her own eyes, but the effort has to count. The --

"*Please* --"

She yanks *hard*, feeling some of the individual hairs let go --

Bruce makes a sound like an animal too *angry* to die --

"*Answer* me."

"Baby --"

"*Not* now, Jay," she says, and leans in close enough to breathe Bruce's breath, close enough to smell herself there -- "*Bruce*."

"*No*. I don't deserve --"

"*Wrong* answer," and she kisses him because she has to, because he has to feel this, feel *her*. She tastes her own pre-come and something almost acid, something that makes her jaw ache the way need can, the way the most *powerful* emotions can, or --

Maybe it's just the force of the kiss, the way she's punishing them both. She's wincing at the feel of their teeth bumping and scraping against each other, the crush of their lips --

There's blood in her mouth, and she doesn't know which of them it *belongs* to --

And then Bruce groans into her mouth and shoves his tongue in -- holds it there. He wants her, he wants --

Tim *bites* it, holds it between her teeth and hums, needs -- rips herself away and wipes her mouth. "Try *again*."

He's panting and licking his lips, staring at her with a focus that seems *inhuman* when taken with the fact that he's still working his hips for Jason. He looks *incredulous*, but mostly he looks hungry, like nothing either of them do will ever be *enough* --

She knows how that look feels from the inside. She knows it right *now* -- "Bruce --"

"Tim, *please*. Jay -- so hard --" Bruce shakes his head --

She looks at Jay. "*Harder*."

Jason moans and nods, and the sight of his shoulder working makes her want -- too many things at *once*, starting with Jason jerking off for her, again. Jerking off while *Bruce* watches, perhaps tied again --

Jason jerking off while straddling Bruce's chest --

Jason *coming* on Bruce's face, her own -- "Try *again*, Bruce --"

And Bruce squeezes his eyes shut again, but it's only for a moment. And when he opens them, he should be able to burn her with that look, should be able to strip her down to the *bone* -- "I -- I *deserve* this. All of it. Everything I need, everything I *want*, Tim. It's -- you're *mine*."

Oh --

"*Fuck*, B, I --"

And Jason does *something* that makes Bruce grit his teeth, makes him flush and makes a bead of sweat roll down his cheek from his temple. Her entire body is screaming about the lack of physical contact, about the promise in Bruce's eyes and the *determination* in Jason's. She could have --

She *will* have. She strokes Bruce's face with her thumbs -- "Yours, Bruce? Really --"

"*Yes*. For this moment, for -- let me *have* you," he says, and he's struggling against the zip-strip again -- *can* he break the thing?

"Stay *still* --"

Bruce growls at her, or perhaps at all of them, the Cave, this situation, his own need --

"*Still* --"

"*Don't* --" Bruce shudders and pants, grits his teeth harder -- looks at her with something like the *remnants* of reason. "Please don't tease, anymore. Please."

And that -- she looks at Jason, and he's staring at her. *Begging* at her, and now that her part in this is basically over, she doesn't want to give it up. There's more that she could say, more that she could *demand*.

Bruce's sac is a soft, warm weight against her foot, and she could squeeze it against his body, press --

She could demand Bruce come with only Jason fucking him, she could make Jason go tortuously slowly, gently --

She could -- there's so *much*. Tim bites the inside of her lip and nods. "Don't wait anymore, Jay."

"Oh -- God. Let me -- Bruce, are you *sure*?"

"Yes," Bruce says, quiet and steady enough to belie the motion of his hips -- but that's smooth, as well, easy and giving, offering. "I will -- *please*. Tim --"

Tim covers his mouth with the fingers of one hand. "You're going to... hold me. In your mouth --"

Bruce's eyes widen again, narrow again --

"Until Jason starts to thrust. *Then* you can suck," she says, and the thought of that rocks her with shudders, makes her need to lock her *knees* for a moment, and what is she *doing*?

The answer is *this*, and more of it, and as much of it as she thinks she can stand. She could be wrong, really, and -- the laugh that bubbles up to the back of her throat feels harsh and sharp, like some weapon only to be used when there's no other *possibility*. She swallows it back and stands straight, stroking down her body and trying not to see Bruce and Jason watching her do it.

She could still *lose* this, and need to be the one in the middle. It's not her *place*, right now, not the right time for it, and she wonders if things like this are a part of the 'vigilante sex talk' Barbara had mentioned.

What *happens* when your partner really *wants* to be taken to task by your alter ego --

This still isn't Batgirl -- or. Not all of her, anyway. Maybe just the foundation that lets her exist in Tim, the thing she shares with Tim because she *has* to --

"Okay. I -- I'm pulling my fingers out," Jason says, and he swallows and does it. Bruce closes his eyes and holds his breath --

"Breathe," Tim says, and it comes out a lot more gently than she would've expected it to, but it's not like she has all that much control left over... anything, at all. She swallows back another laugh and watches Bruce's torso hitch, watches him pant before he takes a *real* breath, and another --

Jason has one hand on Bruce's shoulder, squeezing and petting it in a way that looks far too restless for it to be remotely soothing. She knows that touch -- it's the same one she gets when Jason is some variety of *too* turned on, when his body wants to be gentle and greedy at once --

And her hand is at her navel -- she'd know that from the angles of Bruce's and Jason's gazes even if she couldn't feel it --

No more waiting. She takes a breath against the usual moment of no, of *wrong* -- it's not that intense. It's --

She's not going to think about it. She's just going to *feel* it, and let it bring her close to Bruce once more, one hand wrapped around the base of her penis and the other on Bruce's face --

He opens his mouth, but keeps himself still in every other way save for the even breaths he's taking --

"Fuck, Tim, you look so *good* like that," and Jason sounds eager and a little jealous, as hungry as he *should* be --

Bruce's breath on the head of her penis is so perfect, so warm and *good* --

She pushes in until Bruce's lips are pressed against her fingers, pressed against *her*, and he's following orders. Not licking or sucking, just *holding* her in his mouth --

And looking up at her eyes.

Tim runs her tongue over her teeth and looks to Jason --

"Now, I hear you. I -- God, this is gonna be so *tight* --" And the rest of that is a moan as he pushes in, as Bruce closes his eyes and exhales, as Jason squeezes Bruce's shoulder *hard* --

Bruce moans around her penis, and the faint vibration is an incredible tease, solid and somehow more profound than it has any right whatsoever to be. It runs right *through* her, and -- she knows why. Jason never hesitates. She never *lets* Jason hesitate, but she also hasn't needed to say much to *keep* him from doing it.

From the moment he wraps his lips around her, he's out for her pleasure, as intense as he can make it, as if all it would take is *enough* pleasant physical sensations to make her... accept.

This --

She cups Bruce's face again, watches his eyes track behind the lids as Jason pushes in, and *in* -- "I know how that feels, of course," she says, and listens to the breathlessness in her own voice, the want --

"You weren't. Uh. You had more *experience*," Jason says, and he's *blushing* -- "Fuck, baby, you're the only -- I haven't *done* this with other. Uh."

The laugh *still* wouldn't be appropriate or sound like anything either of them need to *hear* right now. "I know what you're trying to say, Jay --"

"I know, fuck, Bruce, I'm going a little crazy here --" Jason groans and shakes his head. "Sorry, sorry, not supposed to *talk* to B, and I.... I've never even *fantasized* about this, and it's *still* all different from what. Something -- fucking A, baby, one day you've gotta let me see your *toys* --"

Gifts from Dinah, all, and somehow they'd made it back to the Clocktower, as opposed to here to the manor. Sparing her embarrassment *and* Barbara keeping something of her to herself? She doesn't know, but -- the first one had been a *joke*, and the other two had been offered with humor, as well, but... but.

Somehow, Dinah had known, or Barbara had told her -- of course Jason wants this part of her, too, and for this, for *now*... maybe it's something she owes?

"God, fuck, *please* -- don't even know what I *want* --"

"I. So many nights," she says, because she has to, because he needs -- "Wanting *you*, Jay --"

"God -- fuck, that -- and Bruce is all *around* me --"

Bruce still has his eyes closed, still holding her so *gently*, and -- "The scent. Is what's... I. I can smell all of us," she says, and licks her teeth again, swallows again --

"Smells so *good* -- oh, baby, let him suck you, let him *feel* that. Fucking -- fuck his *mouth* --"

Bruce groans and it's only the hand she has around herself that keeps her from thrusting -- from thrusting *deeper*. He opens his eyes again, and she knows he felt that, that he *knows* what this is doing to her, what it's making her need --

"I can't -- can't. He's so *hot* inside, baby, feels so good, I -- how long do I have to wait?"

That's not Jason begging. She knows what his begging *sounds* like, but she knows that has more to do with the fact that *he* had come already than with anything else.

She nudges Bruce's sac again with her foot --

Bruce *sucks*, hard -- stops.

And it's Tim's turn to pant, to gasp and shake. That -- it didn't feel like Jason, at all. It was too --

She doesn't *know*, it was too brief, and Bruce is looking at her with *apology* in his eyes, a *plea* -- she strokes his face and nods, licks her lips --

"Oh fuck, *fuck*, he's clenching up tight, fucking *holding* me, I --" Jason shakes his head and wraps one arm around Bruce's waist, pushes the other under Bruce's arm and grips his shoulder from the front. "Just --"

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and Tim hears herself making a noise --

Bruce opens his eyes again --

"Do it," she says, because there's nothing else, because there's everything she *wants* --

Jason growls and squeezes Bruce hard, buries his face against Bruce's shoulder --

And she and Bruce are making noise together, and it seems like it should echo through the whole Cave, beat at their eardrums and make them -- make her --

She lets go of the base of her penis and Bruce swallows her *immediately*, and the feel -- his throat --

It *works* her, and there's no one to catch her if she falls over, so she *keeps* her knees locked, tries to focus on the feel of that, so unhealthy and so dangerous when working. She could hurt herself *badly* if she ever did that during a flip, or -- "*Bruce*," and it comes out desperate, *fervent* --

"Oh, yeah, oh, fuck -- *please*," Jason says, "Please say it's good, or -- oh, Jesus, touching me, he's -- rubbing me, baby. He can't move his fucking arms, but he's still touching --"

"He needs to. He -- oh. The way he's *looking* at me --"

"Like. Like he needs you, loves you --"

Bruce *nods*, pressing his tongue up against the underside of her penis, swallowing around her again and *again*, and her hand is shaking on Bruce's face, making it hard to pet him the way she wants to. She wants to tell him that it's good, that it's --

It's warm and *safe*, somehow, because he knows so much about her, because he makes her feel so beautiful, so *necessary* --

"*Bruce*," she says, again, and she hopes he can hear everything in it, *needs* him to know that she only wants more, that this pleasure *hurts* because she knows it has to end -- "Do you. I won't last," she says, and forces herself to pull out of Bruce's throat --

Bruce lunges to try to take her *back*, he *wants* her to come --

"Faster, Jay. Just -- don't --" She shakes herself like a *dog* -- "Touch him. Stroke him --"

"*Fuck*, yeah, baby, *thank* you --"

And Bruce closes his eyes again, moans and strains and shudders --

She has her hand around herself again and she squeezes *hard*, letting out the shout for the pain of it, the *good*. She's given herself another few seconds of possibility, time in Bruce's *heat* --

"Give it *back* to him, baby, he's been so good --"

"*Yes*. So -- wonderful," she says, shaking more, needing -- she can feel the flush all over her *skin*, and Jason is *moving* Bruce with his thrusts, moving all of them --

And Jason's making a sound like he's being punched over and over again, and she knows that rhythm *well*, that -- he can't stop, and there's saliva running down Bruce's perfect fucking *chin* --

She *shoves* in, and someone cries out, Bruce's eyes are wide and unfocused. He's *gone*, and she knows that feeling, too. She wants him *here* for this, but she can't bring herself to stop thrusting, can't even make herself find Jason's rhythm --

"So good in my hand, B, so perfect and fucking huge -- want you *in* me --"

Bruce grunts deep in his chest and *that* brought him back, makes him -- he's struggling, fighting for more and just *fighting* --

"Fuck, that *clench* --"

Tim pushes her hand into Bruce's hair and pulls --

And Bruce's expression is so dark, so full of *need*, and Tim knows that whimpering sound is her, that --

His throat is so warm, so tight and so *warm* --

"Close, baby, I'm so -- gonna come. Gonna -- Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna come *in* Bruce --"

"Want. Want his hands on my *hips*. Like you, Jay, like --"

"Yeah, oh --" Jason sobs on a breath and *shoves* into Bruce -- "Can't stop thinking about him doing this to me, taking me --"

Tim nods desperately, fucking *spastically* -- "He feels so good. He -- after I came, when he couldn't stop --"

"So hard, baby, so -- you were *crying* a little --"

"So *good*, and I -- oh, he's sucking me so *hard*, Jay --"

"Know how that *feels* now, what he's always wanted -- oh, fuck, it feels like I wasted *time* --"

And Bruce bares his *teeth*, and that *scream* is her, that -- she can't stop thrusting, can't keep herself from *slamming* against Bruce's face, can't do anything but *live* with the slap of her sac against his chin --

"Can *hear* that, hear *you* -- fucking -- *come* for us, B --"

"Y-yes. *Do* it, Bruce, show us -- *give* --"

He covers his teeth and sucks her *in* again, holds her --

Tastes her and takes her --

"Come *on*, B, don't -- I don't wanna stop until you've come, can't leave you hanging --"

"Please," she says, and has no idea how it came out that *calmly*. It has to be an accident of air flow within her lungs, a moment between the shouts that come out of her every time he swallows, *teases* her --

And Bruce closes his eyes again, makes Tim tug at his hair and *whine*, high in her throat --

"Can't -- *please*, Bruce, I can feel you fucking *shaking*, shaking me, oh God, I don't wanna *stop* --"

"*Don't* stop, Jay, don't --" The laugh is no better for having been swallowed back multiple times and Tim tugs *harder*. "I'll do this *again*," she says, and means it with all of herself. "I'll tie you, hurt you -- slap your fucking *penis* if you -- *ah* --"

"*Please*," and Jason sounds so strained, so *lost* --

And Bruce stiffens *hard*, coughs and swallows her again and that shouldn't feel -- it shouldn't --

"Fuck, *yeah*," Jason says, and Bruce shudders and spasms, jerks -- spatters her leg with his *come* --

The feel, heat and slick, the way Bruce is swallowing almost *desperately* -- "Oh. I --"

"Gonna come, too, baby? Right down his throat?"

"Want -- oh, God, *Jay* --"

"You can give it *up* now, baby. You've -- oh, Jesus, he's clenching so fucking *hard* --"

Tim laughs again and *barely* keeps herself from falling, pretends she's on a *ledge* -- "*You* can give it up --"

"I *am*, fuck, can't you feel me *moving* him?"

She can, and she can *see* it, and every time she pulls out of Bruce's throat for a *second*, there's that moan, low and hungry and so *sweet* --

She licks her lips and strokes Bruce as much as she can, watches Jason bring his slick-sticky hand to his *mouth* --

"Oh -- *Jay* --"

"Have to taste, just -- want you so bad, want you both so *bad* --"

"Never enough. I -- oh, *please* --" And Bruce is working his head on her now. She doesn't even have a *rhythm* and he's still finding it, moving in just the right *ways* --

"So hot, so fucking -- tell me how it *feels*, baby --"

"Ah -- *ah*. Can't, Jay -- he -- so warm, so --"

Wet and slick, deep and *perfect*, and every swallow is taking her higher, driving her into her body like maybe she'll never be able to leave it again. And. She can feel the *ghosts* of his hands on her hips, the way he'd pull her into his mouth again and again, the way he'd hold her *down* when he just wanted to fuck himself on her, force her to *feel* --

"*Please*, baby, I -- I need you, need to -- oh, fuck, I need to *come* --"

"F-forcing me, feels like he's forcing me --"

And Bruce's eyes get so *narrow* --

"No, I --" She shakes her head and tugs his hair a little more -- "Good. It's. I've never --"

"Never *lasted* this long, never could take it -- oh, baby, I'm so *jealous*. Tell me you'll let me do this, please, I -- oh, B, holding me so hard -- don't *hurt* yourself --"

Bruce groans around her and sucks *hard* again --

Noise, just noise, because that thing at the base of her spine is making her jerk, making her leak more pre-come, and Bruce can taste her, Jason can *hear* her --

"*Please*, baby --"

"*Yes*, fuck -- oh, I want, I *want* --"

Wet sounds, over and above the sound of Bruce sucking her -- she looks, and Jason is fucking his mouth with his fingers, doing it hard and moaning *constantly*, even as his hips keep --

And what would it feel like for Jason to suck her while Bruce was inside -- oh --

*Oh* --

Wet fingers on her hip, Jason pulling her *in* to Bruce's mouth, holding her *hard* --

And she's aware of throwing her head back, she can *hear* the scream, but --

She can't --

All over, all over her, heat that should kill her, pressure *breaking*, and Jason's saying something and she can *feel* Bruce seeing her, having --

*Please* --

And then there's a blank, too thorough to be frightening --

She's sitting on the mats and there's enough of a sting that she knows that she had, finally, fallen *down*. She rolls up onto her knees and looks --

It's an awkward kiss from both the angle and the way Jason is shaking, but it makes something seize inside of her -- release. They look so *good*, and part of it is because of what she'd done, all the things she'd *said* --

Jason turns and bites Bruce's shoulder --

"Jay," Bruce says, and the smile on his face is soft and so *full* --

The sound Jason makes is wordless and slurred, wet and *hungry* as he clutches at Bruce --

As he comes, shuddering and gasping and whimpering.

Tim smiles a little -- and feels it freeze on her face when Bruce looks at her. *His* smile gets sharp, knowing and even *more* full of everything. Just --

She's had a *taste* of everything that goes *on* in that man's mind, and -- she shakes her head. "Bruce, I --"

"Tim. Perhaps you'd consider getting a knife?"

Tim bites her lip. It's ridiculous, of course. Bruce will be able to free himself in moments, left to his own devices. She's not *really* holding anything back by not jumping to obey. It still *feels* like she is, and -- Bruce's lips are swollen. His hair is a *mess*. The cut on his mouth isn't bleeding again, but that's pretty much a miracle that has nothing whatsoever to do with *her*.

Jason moans -- "Oh, Jesus, B, those little touches -- your fingers --"

"I'd like," Bruce says, "to offer... more." And he raises an eyebrow at her.

What's the worst that can happen? Bruce pinning her and getting his own back all *over* her is hardly something to *fear*... except for how it absolutely is. Right now, she's not sure she could take one of Bruce's *kisses* without falling apart at least a little bit --

And Bruce narrows his eyes at her. "Tim. Are you all right?"

"Hunh?" Jason looks up, bleary and rather stoned-looking. "Baby?"

"Um." Yes, she's blushing. Wonderful. "I am, perhaps, a bit intimidated."

Jason looks confused. Bruce -- *blinks*.

"It's -- ah." She forces herself up onto her feet. "I'll get the knife," she says, and heads for the nearest work station.

Behind her, she hears Jason moan again. "I'm... gonna pull out. Breathe, okay? I think -- I'm pretty sure this'll hurt."

"Almost certainly," Bruce says, with a great deal of *relish*.

"*Damn*, B..."

She finds a work-blade and curls her fingers around it, noting the cool of it against her palm, the undeniable *fact* of it --

Bruce sighs, long and low, and Jason curses again --

And when she turns around, they're kissing again, a smile tugging at the corner of Jason's mouth as he strokes Bruce's chest with that easy, casual possessiveness which always makes *her* feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

For Bruce, it must be... she can't really imagine, beyond knowing that it *must* feed something inside him he thought would always be hungry. A part of her will always be alone in her bedroom in her parents' home, one hand pressed to her mouth to better remember the feel of Jason's kisses, the other arm pressed against her stomach against the sickness of knowing -- with *all* of herself -- that he could never really want *her* --

She sighs and smiles internally. That part of her may be *slow*, but it does mean that she gets a lot of pleasant surprises.

And -- she's procrastinating.

She walks back over in time to see Jason pull out of the kiss with a grin and turn to her --

"Time to free the beast, baby."

"Shall I growl *very* menacingly?" That *was* Bruce, but there was more than a little Batman there, too.

Tim shivers --

Jason snorts and sits back on his heels. "Better be good, B. She might make me zip-strip your *ankles* next."

"Mm. A terrible fate," Bruce says and kneels up. He's naked, of course. He's mussed and sweaty, and there's come drying on his abdomen, and --

He's *Bruce*, and that's all there is to it. A part of her is asking -- repeatedly and stridently -- if she's *sure* that it's a good idea to keep moving closer, to keep moving within *range* --

She'd tied him up and *pushed* him, teased him and taunted him and never mind that he'd asked for it -- Barbara would say that he'd *begged* for it --

He's tracking her with his eyes, and the amusement there is a very specific kind of deadly. She's being obvious. Fine, all right. She looks at Jason, instead -- Jason looks troubled, confused again. She smiles ruefully and reaches out to hand him the knife --

He puts his hands up. "No way, baby. *You* decide whether or not B gets to use his arms, tonight."

Tim frowns. "I am -- I *have* decided --"

"Have you?" Bruce, and his posture is ruler-perfect, *daunting*, and Jason -- is nodding.

"*You* think he's gonna want some payback."

More blushing. "The idea had... occurred," she says, and moves around behind Bruce. She can see the welts on his wrists without cutting anything away, and she can't really stop herself from rubbing at them, a little. No short sleeves for Brucie Wayne for the next several days, unless he plans to cast aspersions on the sexual practices of whichever socialite he's currently being linked to in the gossip columns --

"Tim."

The thing is, she can *recognize* that Bruce is attempting to soothe her with the tone of his voice, but that *amusement* is still there, and --

"It's okay, baby. Bruce'll be good. Right, B?"

"While a non-committal grunt would be... exceedingly tempting, at the moment, I plan no immediate... reprisals."

Reprisals. *Really* --

Jason laughs and shoves Bruce, a little. "Jesus, B. Fucking *admit* that that was the best sex of your *life*. Like, *before* we touched you."

Bruce turns to look at her from over his shoulder. The smile on his face is distinctly lazy, and, yes, very sharp. "It was," he says, "by far the most intense and pleasurable sexual experience of my life, Tim. And I'm going to enjoy thanking you for it."

Jason laughs harder. "Okay, yeah, that *was* a threat, baby. Um. He did say nothing *immediately*?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "I -- noted." It only takes a moment to slice through the zip-strip --

And Bruce sighs and flexes his arms, bringing them around to his front to rub his wrists.

Tim focuses on breathing normally --

And has just enough time to *register* the knife vibrating in the mat and the Cave rushing around her before she's crushed against Bruce's body and being kissed to within an inch of her life.

Perhaps more like a centimeter.

Jason is laughing hard enough to *choke* on it a little bit and Bruce is humming into her mouth, pulling and *moving* her until she's straddling his thighs, until his body is only warm against hers, the hair on his chest tickling her nipples. It's -- well. Her arms *are* still free, and she wraps them around his neck, tilting her head back a little --

Bruce hums again and sucks her tongue, cups her ass and *moves* her against him until her nipples are hard and her penis is sending somewhat querulous statements of protest to her forebrain. He's soft and she is, too, *but* --

He tastes like her, and he feels like himself, and, if nothing else, she now has an excellent grasp on just how little time Bruce needs to make her helplessly incoherent and painfully inane. She pulls her tongue back into her mouth for long enough to convince Bruce to follow her with *his* tongue. It's not his penis, but she has to own the fact that she's been hoping for something to suck on for what feels like *years*.

"Aw, *yeah*. I mean, I could say something about how we need to eat and get ready for patrol, but... man. I can *see* you sucking his tongue, baby."

Tim sucks harder and plays with Bruce's hair, grips him a little with her thighs --

And those are Jason's hands *on* her thighs. She opens her eyes, and Jason's pressed up against Bruce's back again, leering at her -- and licking Bruce's neck.

She shivers and Bruce holds her tighter, *squeezes* her ass and generally makes her deeply *aware* of everything they'd done that morning. Tim moans --

And it's loud and obvious, because Bruce is pulling back, moving the arm from around her back --

Jason grunts and narrows his eyes. "God, that's -- okay, so maybe it's stupid to be thinking about how fucking *big* your hands are, B, but feeling one on my ass like that -- uh."

Bruce opens his mouth -- closes it and shifts, again --

"No, no, that was *not* a complaint," Jason says, and moves one hand from Tim's thigh to reach under Bruce's arm and grip his shoulder, again. "Just -- uh. Wow."

"Jay..."

"Why don't you go back to kissing Tim while you still can, B? You *know* she's not gonna put up with this for long."

And Tim... resembles that remark. It's a good thing that she can't blush anymore than she already is, because both of them are looking at her, smiling *wryly* at her -- "All right. Someone has to keep our responsibilities in mind."

"Very true," Bruce says, and strokes her ass, up over her back to her hair. "Tim. Jason," and Bruce turns slightly, just enough, perhaps, to be able to see the edge of Jason's smile. "Thank you."

"You are *incredibly* fucking welcome. Right, baby?"

"Oh... I really couldn't have asked for a better... ah. Set of responses," and no, she can absolutely blush more.

Especially because Bruce turns *back* to face her, and the mildly pleased smile on his face is a lie utterly blown apart by the *heat* in his eyes.

"Ah... Bruce --"

"Will you always reward me so for honesty, Tim...?" He spreads his legs a little wider, forcing Tim to do the same, and begins to rub small circles with his thumb at the base of her spine.

That feels -- very good. All of it. But it was -- at least in part -- an honest question. "Honesty is... very important."

Bruce hums and keeps staring *into* her. He *is* blinking, but it really doesn't feel that way, at all.

Jason laughs and nips Bruce's neck. "Hey, be fair, B --"

"Fair...? Is fairness also... important?" He doesn't look *away* --

"Oh yeah, it totally is. If it wasn't, Tim wouldn't have been thinking about making a *run* for it."

Running -- that. All right, that's *also* true, but still -- "Batgirl only runs when she *has* to," she says, and raises an eyebrow.

Bruce hums again and leans slightly closer -- "I suppose I will have to endeavor to remove that necessity."

And really... "How -- ah. How sore are you, Bruce...?"

Jason makes a soft sound -- and Bruce's smile is wide and deeply reminiscent of scimitars. Tim keeps her eyebrow up and her expression just a *little* bit teasing --

"Exceedingly," Bruce says. "I find the sensations... fascinating."

"Uh -- damn, I --" Jason shifts, slightly, and Tim knows that he'd just... *pushed* against Bruce's back. It's in the narrowing of Bruce's eyes, the *steadiness* of that smile...

A part of her is only filing the information under 'things which are good to know.' It's the same part which takes a wordless, primal satisfaction out of sharpening the blades in her heels, and which wants to purr at the expressions which tend to be on Jason's face when he *watches* her do it.

It's the part which will back *up* her promise to do this again, and it's the part which is hungry to back it up *quickly*.

And when Bruce tilts his chin up just *so*, that part drives her to lean in -- and to *bite*.

*

Jason had *been* pretty sure that most of him would stay focused on the feel of Bruce's *big* fucking hand petting and squeezing his ass right up until Bruce decided to move it, but -- damn.

Watching Tim *systematically* marking Bruce's throat is a lot like watching the world's smallest, baddest vampire *feed*. Her eyes are open but distant, focused only on what she's doing, and Jason can see the way she's *pulling* at the skin on Bruce's throat, the way Bruce is breathing just as steadily and evenly as if she was only...

Well, that's the thing. He's not sure he'd be able to do *anything* steadily and evenly if Tim had just -- *that*. God, a part of him had always *hoped* she had something like that in her -- and yesterday morning he'd gotten to get a *taste* of it --

Maybe he should put up more of a *fight* the next time she wants to work him like the bitch he is -- okay, no, that's just it. He wouldn't be *able* to put up the kind of fight Bruce had. He's known for a long damned time *exactly* what he wanted from Batgirl -- if not from *Tim* -- and that's *everything*.

Every *possible* thing -- oh, she's moving her head a little now. She's -- she's *licking* Bruce, that little bit of flesh she's got between her teeth. Jason knows how that *feels*. He moans and pushes a little more against Bruce's back --

Bruce squeezes his ass *hard*, and it feels a lot like do that again, so he does. There's no way he's gonna get hard again for a while -- *not* before they have to hit the streets -- but his dick wants him to know that Bruce's skin is warm and uneven with scars, and also that it's *Bruce*.

Who he had just *fucked* --

Jason moans again and nuzzles the other side of Bruce's throat a little, just -- there's no *way* Bruce had ever been fucked before, or -- at least he hadn't done it for a long damned time. But he'd *taken* it, moaned and groaned and begged for it --

He'd *wanted* it, from *him*, and if he doesn't start coping with that really soon, he's going to be one fuck-dumb Robin out there, tonight.

*Exceedingly* sore. *Fascinating* -- and he can't help knowing *exactly* what that word means when Bruce says it, now. It's always going to be about *more*, and harder, and --

And. Those last kisses with Bruce, after Tim had gone to get the knife. The *feel* of them, like maybe they could be just any two guys together -- no, that's not it.

Somehow, *all* their history was in them, from Jason being a scared and angry kid to Bruce being a fucking *pervert*. Batman and Robin and Bruce and Jason and everything else, all at *once*, and still it had just felt -- good.

Easy. And it's not like everything that was freaking him out is gone, now -- someday there will *be* another Robin, and then Jason is gonna have to *watch* Bruce, just in case that kid isn't like Tim and can't just *deal* with the fact that a forty year old superhero wants his -- or her -- ass.

It's just that, right now, all the endorphins and the general sense of *good* is crowding everything else to the -- far -- edges of things. He can't get away from how good Bruce *smells*, like maybe that warm feeling Bruce has been giving him for years just kind of *needed* sex added to it, like --

He doesn't know. He'd told Tim that they *had* to try living this one moment at a time, and that's still the only thing that makes any kind of sense. For now, he has a *grip* on Bruce, and he has Bruce's heat, his crazy patchwork *skin*, smooth and smoother, like maybe if they ever get around to *just* rubbing off on each other, Jason will go just as crazy from it as he had from being *inside* Bruce --

Okay, no, probably not that. Not -- damn. Just. Tim is *tight*, and so fucking perfect for him he's sometimes wondered if the Birds didn't give her *all* of his body stats to work with --

Is one of her toys Jason-sized?

Jason grins at the thought of it, *wants* at the image in his head of fucking her with that toy while she's got her head in his lap --

He *knows* Bruce would love to see *that* -- and he grins a little wider. Bruce sighs and shivers a little. Jason checks on Tim -- yeah, still biting and sucking, though the tension in her jaw says she *might* be biting harder. "Damn, baby. You marking him up or having him for dinner?"

She opens her eyes and *looks* at him, not giving a fucking *inch*. The look *probably* doesn't mean 'you're next,' considering what time it is, but Jason's dick still takes the time to let him know that more isn't happening right *now*.

He soothes it a little by dragging it against Bruce's back --

"Jay," he says, and it sounds like a whole damned paragraph of information about how *good* he feels and it sounds like a kiss.

Jason kisses the other side of Bruce's neck. "Yeah, B?"

Bruce strokes Jason's ass, strokes his way back to Jason's hip and squeezes -- "This closeness, the... intimacy..."

"Pretty damned sweet," Jason says, and squeezes Bruce's chest a little.

He gets a sigh for it -- and a wet and kind of *dirty* sound from the work Tim's putting in over there. God, there's just so much *of* Bruce, like maybe they need to take a *day* to just go over his whole damned body, marking here, touching there, *absolutely* sucking *there* --

"I like this, B. It feels good. Right," and Bruce is stroking a little ways up Jason's side, obviously trying to reach everywhere he *can* -- heh. "Hold on a second."

Bruce clutches a little when Jason pulls back, but he doesn't try to move away from Tim, which is just right. Jason walks around in front of him and crouches down.

"Shift over, baby. I *need* that other thigh."

She makes a small agreeing sound and does it, and Bruce spreads his thighs a little wider -- and smiles at Jason when he straddles. 

"Jay."

"Right here, B," he says, and covers the hand Tim has on Bruce's chest, pushes it to make her start moving it --

Bruce takes a deep breath and licks his lips, and that --

Jason pushes his other hand into Bruce's hair and leans in for a kiss, nice and slow and easy. It feels like a kiss they could've had years ago, simple and just -- good. *Warm*. That's not true -- just like how it's not true that Jason had been wasting time -- but it feels true, anyway, and that's what matters.

He can feel Bruce looking at him through the kiss, maybe searching him a little -- that's *fair*. Sometimes he trips over how *much* Tim loves and needs him, the way she looks at him like he's the best thing that ever happened to her, that ever *could* happen to her --

He pulls back enough to make the kisses softer, a little more -- something. He doesn't have the words for it, and he doesn't really care. Just -- he opens his eyes and Bruce *is* staring at him, looking right down deep *into* him. Tim's looking, too, but all he needs there is to squeeze her hand. "It's good," he says, again, and after a moment Bruce nods, swallows, and reaches up to touch Jason's face.

He's -- going to have one *hell* of a hickey to go with the welts on his wrists. Jason grins again and darts in to lick it --

Tim growls quietly --

"I know, I know, that's *your* side. But it's so *pretty*, baby --"

She bumps his arm with her shoulder, hard enough that he knows she's playing with him a little.

"I'm going, I'm --"

Getting kissed, hard, and Bruce is cupping the back of his head with one hand and stroking his chest with the other. It's the easiest thing in the world to tug on Bruce's hair a little, tell him to keep *going* --

And it's easier than that to push on Tim's hand until it's twined with his own. She squeezes him, and it's just a small thing, something she does all the *time*, but --

Maybe it's not just that. Maybe it's everything, all at once, and how it can be just this *good*. Bruce moans and keeps holding his head still for the kiss, keeps stroking him --

Loving him, and the part of Jason which isn't *living* in this kiss wants him to know that it *is* okay, that he's had a little practice at being loved like this, and it's never not going to feel good, like everything good in his life could disappear *except* for this, and he'd still be okay, still be *home*.

He tugs on Tim's hand until she comes closer --

And has absolutely no time to do *anything* before Bruce is kissing *her* again, swallowing down that little surprised noise she pretty much only makes for him. Something to be jealous *and* happy about it -- he loves every last one of her noises, but if she's used to him needing her *that* much... Jason grins and watches her get a little lost in the kiss, relaxing all over and giving it *up* as she closes her eyes --

And then Bruce is kissing him again, licking the underside of Jason's tongue until he pushes it into Bruce's mouth and can catch those last lingering hints of Tim's come --

God, Bruce had made her *want* it, made her stroke herself, squeeze her own sac, *show* them --

Yeah, he's not getting over this *anytime* soon. Heh.

Bruce goes back and forth between them a few more times, but Jason can *feel* Tim pulling back a little, doing that thing where she's not -- *quite* -- with either of them, because she has things to do and every intention of *doing* them. He's not surprised when she pushes back and off after the fifth or sixth kiss, and Bruce isn't either, judging by the rueful smile on his face.

"Callin' time, baby?"

Tim's smile is sharp. "While I've come to be quite sure that Alfred *always* knows what all of us are doing and when we're doing it... well. We all need to eat a little bit and stretch out before patrol. And to *shower*."

"Yeah, the criminals probably don't need to know what our spunk smells like," he says, turning -- and yeah, Bruce's mouth is a tight little twist that's *all* about Bruce continuing not to deal with the stuff that comes out of Jason's mouth. *Heh*. Jason leans in and licks Bruce's cheek, just because he can, and --

Okay, yeah, he's getting lost in the look Bruce is giving him, a little. It makes him think about Dick grabbing Bruce's legs and holding on through the chin-ups, about the handful of times he's thrown Bruce, about Tim's closet full of dresses --

It's kind of everything, and -- "Sometimes, B -- sometimes it's a little hard to breathe."

Bruce nods and doesn't look away even a *little*, which --

It's better. A *lot* better. Jason smiles. "It's okay. And you know that now," Jason says, and pats Bruce's chest before standing up and offering him his hand.

Bruce takes it and stands. "It's more accurate to say that I'm learning, I think." He turns to Tim. "For the sake of vast understatement -- I'm enjoying the process a great deal."

"Noted," Tim says, and moves for the shower. Jason watches her walk -- and then watches *Bruce* watching her walk.

"Never stops being a nice view, B."

Bruce hums and smiles, squeezing Jason's shoulder.

They finish cleaning up pretty quickly, and Alfred's at the conference table with their pre-patrol meal. It was hard, at first, to only eat enough to get *mostly* full, but a few nasty cramps on the street were enough to teach Jason to deal. Neither Bruce nor Alfred ever really said anything about it, and it's something Jason appreciated.

There was just *always* food available to Jason, day or night, and there still is -- even thought it's been a while since Jason's woken up panicked and sure that *this* morning would be the one that Bruce would tell him that he just wasn't working out.

Jason smiles to himself and finishes up, leaving Bruce and Tim to eat like the civilized people they are. Babs calls while Jason is doing his stretches, and Bruce comes to help him out while Tim catches up and goes over her assignments for the night -- and gets teased fucking *mercilessly* by the sound he's totally not listening to even a little.

He's never really been someone's *operative* the way Tim is, and mostly he's okay with that. It gives him the freedom to do what *he* needs to do on the streets, and he thinks that, in some ways at least, it's kept him going when nothing else could.

Kept him *alive* in that way which has nothing to do with physical safety and everything to do with all the crap in his head. He *has* to start dealing with that now, and even though a part of him will only be doing it because Bruce and Tim need him to... well.

He was never built to be alone. Bruce raises an eyebrow at him while pushing Jason's leg back to his chest a little and Jason grins and shakes his head. He's all right for now, and he thinks he has a pretty damned good chance of staying that way.

All of them do, really, and -- yeah.

Life's pretty fucking sweet.

end.


.feedback.
.index.