The rarest rose
by Te
September 13, 2011

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine. Ish.

Spoilers/Timeline: Vague and somewhat AU-ized ones for older storylines. It's Year Two.

Summary: Barbara Gordon... is a very, very special teenager.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content which mostly dovetails with the content some readers may find to be disturbing.

Author's Note: A sequel to "No greater love." Will not make a lick of sense without it.

Acknowledgments: With much love to Mildred, Pixie, and Jack for audiencing, encouragement, and suggestions.


It's not that Bruce hasn't felt attraction -- serious attraction -- to women before now. He is twenty-seven, not seventeen, and while there are certainly more women he finds distasteful than *not*... the same is true for men.

He is not seventeen, and there are beautiful, wonderful, and *dedicated* women in this world, just as there are beautiful, wonderful, and dedicated men -- and people decidedly other than either.

The world is full of wonders.

Oh, yes, brother, and Bruce smiles as he stares at the one lighted window in the small house he's been watching for the last hour. The house itself has some weather damage, but the lawn is kept short and neat, and there are beautiful rose bushes to either side of the walk. Those are the legacy of the woman who *doesn't* live in that house anymore... but Jim has been determined about their upkeep.

Barbara, he knows, barely even looks at them as she enters or leaves the house.

His brother shifts and moves inside him, flexing his wings and making Bruce's shoulder blades itch.


Will you?

Bruce smiles more broadly. Yes. But I don't know if it will be tonight.

His brother hums. Silver wouldn't approve.

Silver also didn't approve of my lifestyle choices with regards to vigilantism.

She was beautiful, though. Quite symmetrical.

Bruce wonders, not for the first time, about how his taste in lovers would have developed *without* his brother. The concept is a frightening one on top of being useless, however, and so he pushes the thoughts aside again.

For the best, and there is the hint -- only the hint -- of the hiss which had left Bruce dangerously attracted -- though thankfully not sexually -- to the mapanares  he'd encountered in South America during his travels.

As you say, and Bruce shifts as the moon comes out from behind a cloud. It wouldn't do for his silhouette to be visible -- or.

Would she be *more* likely to take to the streets if she saw him...?

("You made quite an impression on her.")

And Jim had been joking with him, waiting for his discomfort -- perhaps even a blush. Bruce often feels young around Jim, and he's observed more than once that *acting* somewhat more awkward than he feels during those times when they're not actively working...

Jim misses his son very, very much.

Bruce is not above using every possible weapon at his disposal -- especially when the use is so easy... and so enjoyable.

I believe your father would have liked Jim very much.


Neither man would approve of this, his brother says, and he's hissing again. Pleased again.

His brother has encouraged all save his *most* ill-advised lusts from nearly the very beginning --

Your brother tasted her on the air as you flew her to safety.

Just so.

Barbara Gordon had witnessed mob activity, agreed to testify against the criminals in question with, apparently, little in the way of hesitation -- despite a *profound* lack of naiveté about how that sort of thing usually ended -- and then, when her guardian and beloved uncle was kidnapped, had taken up detective work to find him -- saving the lives of Jim, his wife, and his son -- by exposing herself to even more danger.

But not before taking the practical -- if ultimately pointless, at the time -- step of calling the police on the kidnappers.

Barbara Gordon... is a very, very special teenager.


She is not as... symmetrical as she could be. She has a tendency to raise her left eyebrow and *keep* it raised while pursing her lips. It's altered the rest of her expressions, giving them a rather *vicious* quirk which makes her look much older than fourteen.

No, it doesn't.

Bruce laughs silently, but opens his mouth for it just the same --

And his brother joins him on the balustrade, darkening his flesh to a deep grey to match the rain-spattered stone of the gargoyles on this building. He is, of course, far more beautiful than they could ever be.

"Thank you," he whispers, and cocks his head to the side. "Do you think she's a virgin...?"

"Yes. Though I have no rational reason for that belief. The eighties are not the seventies, brother, and we know nothing of her life in Chicago."

His brother inclines his head -- and stiffens his shoulder-length hair into a corona, making him look like a particularly belligerent grey flower --

And his brother laughs and lets his hair fall normally again. "I do not shift enough, these days, to know the effects of what I choose to do."

"I didn't say that you weren't an *attractive* flower," Bruce says, and watches Barbara begin to pace.



"She already moves well, brother. Like Lex when he was her age."

Bruce licks his lips, nods, and fills his mind for a moment with the memory of Lex's skin, still so soft and sleek --

So *delicate*... and, now, never exposed to anyone save his lovers. Exeter's communal showers weren't the *first* thing to be razed to the ground after it became a subsidiary of LexCorp -- that was the gymnasium -- but they certainly didn't last very long.

"Would you watch Lex taking her, little one...?"

Bruce -- grunts.

"Sss. Sss. You want her for yourself alone."

"Apparently so," Bruce says, and smiles again. "And --"

"It's for the best. Neither of your other brothers would approve, either."

Bruce sighs. "There are times when their conservatism... wounds. Neither of them entirely approve of the new Black Canary."

His brother nods. "Irritating, considering how very well-trained she is. Illogical, as well. She is a good partner to us when she *does* choose to work."

"Which she'll do more once she finishes the process of placing out of high school... mm."


Barbara has begun pulling on her *other* clothes. A black long-sleeved t-shirt, soft and well-fitted. Black jeans which are both thick enough to protect and tailored well enough to allow her to move. Good, sturdy black boots that have faded somewhat -- presumably from Chicago's ice and salt -- but which still complement the ensemble very, very well.

Finally --

The thing which would've made Bruce's decision if it hadn't been made by countless *other* things --

A black ski-mask.

Her ponytail peeks out beneath it, but tonight -- for the third time -- she has picked up a pair of scissors and held them to her hair.

She puts them *down* for the third time, but Bruce doesn't think she will for many *more* times.

"I like her hair," his brother says. "There is... fire."

"You also like Black Canary's horrifically impractical blonde wig, brother."

"Need I remind you which of us spent centuries without *any* bright things...?"

Bruce hums. "You have my apologies, of course."

His brother flexes his wings hard, buffeting Bruce with chill, damp air. He wouldn't have done it, however, if he hadn't known Bruce could and would compensate to keep from rocking.

Bruce hums. "Brother."

"Will she have a hymen, do you think?"

Bruce blinks, but only turns to look at his brother *internally*.

"You remember that conversation with Lex, too."

"Yes, but --"

"Shall I tell you *which* parts of yourself remember that conversation...?"

Bruce touches his tongue to his upper lip. "I take your point. I don't want to hurt her."

"She winced when you clutched her to pick her up."

"I loosened my grip --"

"She clung to *you*, then. More than she had to."

"We don't know if that was... encouragement."

His brother cocks his head to the left, this time. "I want her blood."


"I taste... much."

"You're in her bedroom."

His brother inclines his head. "Just enough. She will begin menstruating in... thirty-six to forty hours."

Neither Silver nor Dinah enjoy making love while menstruating. During their last months together, Bruce had asked -- begged -- Silver for it multiple times. It had seemed like a way to get closer. To *keep* her closer... hm. "Impressive that she's willing to come out tonight, anyway --"

"There is no pain... yet. Perhaps she craves it, brother."

"Perhaps. We will not assume, just the same."

"Sss. No more than is necessary, of course."

"Do you *want* me to take up making love with reptiles?"

His brother leaps down Bruce's throat and *fills* him with hissed laughter --

And gives a particularly large mapanere from Bruce's memory Harvey's eyes.

That's entirely distressing, you know.

*Watch*, brother!

He does --

And Barbara slips down from her side window on an expertly hooked bit of nylon rope. At some point, she'd purchased gloves for herself --

They're too thin if she loses her grip --

She doesn't, and she unhooks her grapple, loops the rope at her waist, and runs for the alleys, darting between gas lights and looking for... targets.

Her tae kwon do could be better. Her judo is nearly rudimentary. There have still been several minor criminals trussed-up for the police that neither the Batman, nor the new Black Canary could take credit for.

There has still been... justification?

Does he truly *need* it?

She's --

It wasn't until the first Black Canary had cupped his face with her gloved hands and smiled at him with pride and approval before *winking* at him --

It wasn't until then that Bruce first understood the concept of having a *people*, having something both more shallow and more *deep* than a family --

Harvey is the country's youngest District Attorney and the Batman's secret ally, but he would never -- *could* never -- have joined Bruce on the street.

LexCorp's R&D division has been given large amounts of money to produce stronger and more flexible body armor. It's in friendly competition with WE, and the results have been intensely useful. This doesn't make Lex any happier about what Bruce does with his nights.

A year ago, it seemed as though he would be doing this alone -- or nearly so. The first Black Canary was still working in Gotham, but the rest of the Society had retired. And the cancer was running through her like wildfire.

She'd told him, however, that there would be others.

She'd told him that he would *bring* others, and her faith in that has been rewarded. It...

He *knows* he's inspired Barbara.

He can *feel* it --

She is yours, brother.

Yes --

Oh, yes --

He follows her for a little over a mile before she finds anything for her attentions -- two drunken young men wearing Knights paraphernalia beating up a third for no apparent reason --

Ah, the third man *had* been wearing a *Hawks* cap.

It's tempting -- deeply so -- to brutalize them at speed... but.


She waits for nearly twenty full seconds, very clearly sizing up the situation --

And then she runs in, quick and low, and uses her grapple to rap the left kneecaps of the Knights fans just hard enough to -- by the sound -- dislocate them. The screams and curses are immediate --

She almost gets *caught* by her ponytail -- but she is quick, and moves away after delivering two solid kicks to the injured knees in question.

The Hawks fan is incapable of helping --

Barbara *hesitates* --

And one of the Knights fans -- impressively -- yanks his patella back in place and attacks with a broken-off spar of wood.

Barbara dodges well enough -- but her grappling hook gets knocked out of her hand --

And she makes the mistake of jumping deeper into the alley.

You will teach her.

Oh, yes, Bruce says and flies, driving his heavily-booted feet into the man's back so that he falls at her feet.

And cracks his jaw on the pavement, knocking himself unconscious.


As you say.

She only stares up at him for a long moment, eyes wide and lips parted --

But then she blushes and turns away. She --

No, and he catches her by the chin and forces her to look up at him again.

She *winces*, and Bruce is expecting an apology or a stammer -- but then she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. "Well, are you going to let me get the *other* one?"


Bruce smiles, releases her chin, and moves, gesturing to the man currently doing his level best to crawl out of the alley with only one functional leg. She narrows her eyes in a smile he wants *teeth* for --


Yes, but first --

She kicks the man's groin viciously, then kicks his left lower ribs repeatedly until she can gauge the force needed to crack them.

She only needs two kicks for the right.

By this point, the man has passed out from the pain... and Bruce has begun to ache.

Barbara is *panting*... but Bruce knows it has nothing to do with *exertion*.

"Call the police for them now," he says, and touches the back of her neck.

"Oh -- oh, right!" She runs to the nearest payphone which, somehow, is actually functional. Bruce shadows her away from the gaslights.

Bruce waits and watches and listens -- she can make her voice very, very low when she wishes to. And give herself a creditable Polish accent, too, which makes a great deal of sense considering her Chicago background.

She hangs up and shivers -- but doesn't turn around. "What -- what next?"

"You sound like you've lost some of your... confidence."

"Um -- you know who I am. Don't you," she says, and slumps slightly.

"I look forward to being in a place where I can say your name with impunity... little one."

She jerks for that, and *starts* to turn -- perhaps for the tone of his voice?


And Bruce does just that, wrapping an arm around her waist and flying her into the night. She is barely one hundred pounds, and there is hardly any hesitation at all before she's clinging to him in just the right way, the *perfect* way --

Brother, I *want* --

Do it --

Bruce feels her shiver for his brother's touch and wants the pound of her heart, the rush of blood in her veins --

Considering how aroused she is...

Oh, yes?


Bruce smiles and takes her into Oldtown, which has some of his favorite architecture. It's a shamelessly Gothic neighborhood, and it's close enough to sea level that the fogs are near-constant at this time of year.

It's beautiful here, and strange, and dangerous.

It's the *second* neighborhood the Batman singled out for special attention, and the law-abiding residents pull over when they hear the growl of his cars' engines.

And the other residents sink deeper into the shadows.

He doesn't have his car *tonight* --

He doesn't have anything of the Batman save *some* of the trappings --

But he thinks that will be enough.

He sets Barbara down on the roof of a church built two hundred years ago in a style which is pure Oldtown. There are buttresses and grotesques. The stonework features sinners being tormented in myriad exciting ways. The brightest stained glass is the color of fresh *blood* --

But the flat parts of the roof are kept clear and swept, because the priest in residence enjoys coming up here during the day to work on his watercolors -- which are quite good, if somewhat grim for the art form.

Barbara looks around immediately, crouching to reduce her silhouette until she realizes that they're well within the shadows thrown by the steeple.

She stands again and looks up at him. "I thought you'd take me home."

Bruce smiles. "Not yet," he says, and decides to keep using the Voice for the time being. "Barbara."

"I -- fuck," she says, and pulls off her ski-mask. Her hair is almost obscenely bright in the weak, uneven light from the gaslights below and the few lighted windows in the surrounding homes. The moon is only a memory at the moment, but it's a vivid one -- the cloud cover is thin.

Bruce curls her ponytail around his gauntleted fingers.

"I --"

"Will you cut it?"

Her expression twists with annoyance at herself. "Well, it almost got me *killed* tonight, so -- um. Probably."

"That would be a shame."

"I -- what?"

Yesss. Yesss. Make her keep it!

"It's only... hn. There are other ways," Bruce says, and tugs gently before releasing it.

She frowns. "Like *what*?"

"My own hair isn't especially long... but."

She blushes, but she doesn't turn away. "I. I've thought about... making myself a uniform. A real one."

"You... sew?"

Another quirked expression. "I've also thought about teaching myself to sew... better. I mean, the fact that I can put a button back on a shirt and sew a pillow..." She shrugs. And bites her lip --

And stops --

And narrows her eyes. "You aren't making me stop. Or -- telling on me."

Bruce smiles again as the clouds scud away from the moon, knowing that it gives the impression of slick bone. "Not yet."

She crosses her arms over her chest. She --

Her breasts are no larger than an A cup.

I believe they pain her at times, brother...

We will help. "Yes, Barbara...?"

"What would *make* you tell on me?"

"Recklessness. Disobedience --"


Bruce cups her throat gently --

"*Oh* --"

And lifts --

"What -- *what* --"

"You're fourteen years old and trained just enough to guarantee yourself a *slow*, painful death one night or another, Barbara. You *will* obey me in all things."

Her eyes are wide, but --

A stubbornness. It doesn't quite touch her fear. Yet.

As you say. Bruce smiles again. "You would fight that, little one? Shall I tell you about all the mistakes you made tonight?"

A blush -- and a flush. "You're not my uncle."

Bruce laughs softly. "No, I'm not. You're going to listen to me rather more assiduously than you listen to him."

Her nostrils flare -- "He's your friend!"

"And I have every intention of having that continue... which is something which will be much, much easier for me if I can tell myself that I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe."

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes --

And Bruce lets some of his own laugh out. "Everything, of course, save making you stop."

She grips Bruce's forearm, careful of the spikes on the gauntlets. "You can't -- you like me out here."

"Oh, yes."

"How *much*?"

Bruce exhales until his brother can form his face in the air beside Bruce's --

Bruce squeezes Barbara's throat just firmly enough to keep the noises she makes from carrying --

And his brother hisses his pleasure. "Enough to tell you secrets, pretty one, fire one. Enough to offer you the violence you crave. Enough to *touch*," and his brother lunges just so --

Barbara flinches --

And his brother doesn't touch. He does, however, slip out the rest of the way to stand near them, using his wings to throw still more shadows.

Barbara is shaking and looking back and forth between them --

"You need not fear," Bruce says --

And Barbara stiffens *more* -- "You're -- real?" And there's a husk to her voice like this, low and problematically attractive.

There are times when Bruce misses the ability to communicate with his eyebrows --

"I mean --" Barbara blushes and squeezes Bruce's wrist. "I mean. You're not just -- um. There are two of you."

"We are brothers," and Bruce cocks his head to the side. "Of the spirit and of the blood. Will you scream?"

"*No*!" And her voice remains muted, but that was... emphatic. *Sharp*.

He and his brother smile together. "There are many reasons why we want you with us in the night," and Bruce sets her down on her feet, then massages her throat. She won't bruise... but.

Throughout, Barbara stares at them, affording them both the same level of wariness -- and curiosity.

"Asssk," and his brother flexes his wings, leans in *slightly* to sniff.

"I -- are you planning to eat me?"

"To taste only. I do not eat people I like."

Barbara frowns deeply and turns back to him. "You told my guardian you were *human*."

"I am -- entirely so. My brother is a demon I freed when I was a boy, and who later possessed me with my permission."

Her mouth goes slack -- but only for a moment before she nods firmly. She is not blind to the world they live in. She --

Bruce smiles helplessly and touches her cheek gently with his gauntleted fingers --


His brother expands his wings and touches the bit of her wrist bared between her gloves and shirt with the pads of his fingers --

"Oh -- cold. What -- look, what *exactly* do you guys want from me?"

"Everything," his brother says --

And Bruce holds up a hand. "Care and obedience are, by far, the most important things -- "

"Sss. Not to *all* of you, brother."

Bruce laughs softly. "No, not to all of me," Bruce says, and turns back to Barbara, tugging off his gauntlet --

Barbara gasps softly -- and straightens her posture unnecessarily.

Bruce cups her cheek and chin, strokes her cheekbone and holds her in place --

"You're -- not cold."

"Not in this way --"

"Not in *any* way, brother..."

Bruce hums. "Have you desired my touch, little one...?"

Her eyes widen dramatically for that, but the green of them is hard to be sure of in this light. Bruce promises himself time with her in a bright place, a warm place to bring a flush to her pale skin --

"Please, answer the question."

"Uh. Um --" She bites her lip -- she stops and *narrows* her eyes. "If you're trying to -- to make some kind of *point* about the *dangers* of the night --"

"No. I am not your guardian, and I never will be."

"Then --"

His brother hums. "He desires you, Barbara. We both do."

Widened eyes once more -- but she doesn't step back.

She stands, brave and sure --

She swallows -- "I've thought about it. I -- not. Not with you," she says, turning to his brother.

His brother inclines his head, but never takes his gaze from her. "Please. Get to know us."

"You -- because you're an us. Right --"

"My brother," Bruce says, and strokes her soft, peach-hued lower lip, "was my first lover."

"You're -- bisexual."


Barbara blinks rapidly and -- blushes.

His brother steps closer. "You have never imagined the touch of a female? The press of soft breasts against your skin?" The hiss in his voice is muted, but present --

And Barbara is frowning somewhat... adorably.

Bruce laughs. "You need not have done anything of the kind... so long as I may count on you not to fall to prejudice."

"I'm -- I'm not a bigot!"

"Good. Tell us of your desires, Barbara. Your... thoughts."

A quick breath -- "Was that an order?"

He shares a look with his brother, who is avid and hungry, though, thus far, keeping himself only partially erect. His glans is still hidden by his foreskin --

He is no more erect than *Bruce* can get in his jock --

"I -- what is it?"

Bruce turns back to Barbara, and allows himself to loom somewhat, to take up *space* --

"Oh -- Batman --"



"It was an order."

Barbara shivers and blushes, needlessly pushes a hand back over her hair -- "I -- I haven't agreed to your. Terms."

"Agree to them."

"When -- no."

"Agree to them... or."

Another blush. "You -- you'll *tell* on me? For not *fucking* you?"

Bruce shows his teeth. "No. I'll leave you alone."

"Oh. I." She frowns. "It's not like I'm in *love* with you or anything --"

"We don't each other well enough for that, no. Little one... we need have nothing sexual between us."

"But you *want* --"

"Badly." And Bruce flexes his hands once, twice --

"Fire one... there are many pleasures to obedience --"

"Yeah? Well, maybe I don't want to go to *hell* when I die."

Bruce laughs again. "You would not be *his* partner, little one."

Another frown -- "You -- didn't use that word before."

"No, I didn't. Rest assured that that was merely an oversight on my part. As I said, I want you badly."

"And what happens when you've *had* me?"

Bruce uses his speed to back her up against the steeple --

"Oh -- stop --"

And he breathes hot against her ear. "I'll have you again, and again, and again."

"And share me with your *demon*?"

"If it pleases you. I already know it would please me," Bruce says, and *licks* her ear --

She gasps -- and her hands are on his chest armor, pushing more *testingly* than firmly.

The shadows are very clear about the fact that his brother is behind them and using his wings to create still more darkness.

"Who -- who *else* have you shared with -- your brother?"

"My second human lover. The first sees my brother only as a friend."

"A -- friend. Right --"

"They are beautiful, fire one," his brother says, and flexes his wings hard enough to buffet them with the cool, damp air. "They are also... very fond of strong women."

"The second is especially fond of strong women who know how and when to submit," Bruce says and moves to breathe against her other ear --

Barbara shivers and stiffens --

"But, in truth, you're much too young for them."

"But not for *you*?"

"Not since I saw your strength. Your bravery. Your *fitness*. I've been watching you ever since, Barbara," and Bruce steps back and grips her waist --

"Batman --"

And lifts her so that they may be eye to eye. "Touch the cowl just to the side of my right eye."

"What -- why --"

"*Do* it."

She growls and blushes at once -- and does it. "Oh -- a button. I --"

"Press it."

She frowns again -- and does it. "Your -- eyes."


"You -- wanted me to be able to *identify* you?"

Bruce smiles. "We'll call it a way for you to test your burgeoning abilities as a detective. For now... read me."

"I'm not -- I don't --"

"You grew up in a house where you frequently needed to be able to gauge the moods of a woman who habitually altered her perceptions and... presentation."

She rears back --

"I have *studied* you, little one. Now study me," he says, deliberately making it another order --

And watching her blush for it.

Bruce slows his blinks down, and squeezes her waist *hard*.

She grunts --

Blushes --

"*Say* something --"

"I will not set you aside so long as you adhere to our bargain."

"Something -- something else --"

"I will learn every possible way to make you scream your pleasure."

Another pant -- "More."

Bruce blinks. Once. "I will make your every blow, strike, and kick utterly devastating."

"And -- all I have to do is *obey* you?"

"And show care, little one. Always."

"What kind of sex do you *want*?" And there's a certain note in her voice, a hint of *frustrated* plea --

And his brother slips invisible tendrils of himself in between Bruce's teeth -- She has not stopped being aroused, brother. Her scent is rich and full.

Thank you. And Bruce cocks his head to the side again. "Are you a virgin?"

"Y-yes --"

"Then I will be gentle with you... at least at first. We will learn your pleasures together --"

"It's not like I haven't *masturbated* -- um."

Bruce smiles.

Barbara stares --

Her heart is pounding, brother...

My cape --

Yesss. And his brother lays it out immediately.

"Obey me, Barbara."

She pants and stares down at his cape --

And back into his eyes --

She pants *harder* --


A whimper then, and it's quiet and somewhat abortive, but Bruce knows that he will keep it with himself forever. It's a sound for *him*. For *this* --

"Obey me, and --"

"You -- you'd better make me come --"

"Say *yes*."

"Yes! *Fuck* --"

There is a moment when it's only frightening how easy it is to put her on her back -- she has so much to *learn*! --

The moment passes with the taste of Jim's coffee in her mouth, the subtler tastes of need and arousal --

He kisses her deeply, but *not* as firmly as he otherwise might. Jim is an observant man -- Bruce will leave her with no *easily* visible bruises or swelling. And this kiss is working well enough. She moans for the sweep and stab of his tongue --

She shakes when he *nibbles* her lip --  or perhaps when the stiffened nose-piece of the cowl brushes her cheek.

She will call for Batman when she has an orgasm, brother.

At the moment, nothing seems as though it *could* be more arousing than that. Nothing --

Bruce pulls back and licks his lips. "You will make me *stronger*, little one."

"I -- what --"

Bruce hums a laugh. "I'll explain another time," he says, and begins making love to her throat, seeking out points of sensitivity. She is ticklish near her suprasternal notch, and reacts hardly at all for a tongue high on her throat --

But she moans again when he sucks the soft skin over her jugular, when he scrapes his teeth over her carotid --

A part of him is only designing a *uniform* --

He leaves it to its own devices and pulls back to massage her throat, to rub at sensitized flesh with his calluses until she begins to pant again, to stare --

Her nipples are visibly hard through her bra and shirt. She is --

Bruce breathes deep and tastes fog and the salt of a beautiful girl. "Barbara..."


"Do your breasts... pain you?"

She stares at him in *confusion* --

"A serious question. I've never made love with a girl as young as you."

"I --" She snorts.


"That *really* sounds like a line, Batman."

Bruce blinks --

"Sss. She has a point."

Well, then. Bruce inclines his head to both of them -- and tightens his grip on Barbara's throat --

"*Nnk* --"

"The youngest girl before you was sixteen. That was four years ago... when I was twenty-four."

Her eyes widen again -- almost certainly for the information. The *clue*.

Bruce smiles again. "Beautiful girl. *She* was nearly fully-developed. You are not... but I don't know how far you have yet to go," and he loosens his grip.

"I -- I -- they're sore a lot. I ignore them --"

"And your nipples?"

"Sensitive -- too sensitive --"

"To be touched?"

The sound she makes is caught between a growl and a moan -- "What do you want to *do* with them?"

"Mouth them. Suck them. *Suckle* them."

She... squirms.

"Was that a yes...?"

"I don't know! I mean -- I leave them alone --"

"When you masturbate. I see... and I see that experimentation is in order," he says, and pulls her into a seated position --

"Oh --"

-- before tugging her shirt up and off.

She shivers --

And Bruce removes his other gauntlet and chafes her skin until she grows flushed, until her expression turns impatient --

And then he kisses her again, driving her back down onto his cape and spreading her coltish legs with his own. She *yelps* into his mouth --

That was not pain, his brother says, and Bruce knows that he's keeping only about a third of himself outside Bruce.

The rest...

The rest would *taste*.

Very soon, and Bruce kisses his way down to her chest, opening the simple front-clasp on her 'sports brassiere' -- Hippolyta would, quite possibly, *spit* on the flimsy thing -- and folding it back.

Like this, it's easy to see that her breasts will almost certainly be somewhat sizeable once she's more developed. There's a burgeoning fullness to them, a *softness* once beyond the relatively small nipples and areolae, which plump out firm and, yes, sensitive.

She whimpers for the brush of his fingertips.

She squirms for his breath --

"Anticipation, Barbara...?"

"Oh -- just *do* it --"

"Are you ordering me?"

This time, the flush spills down her chest. "I --"

Bruce shifts, and *grips* her pubis through her jeans --

"*Ahn* --"

"Are you ordering me."

"You -- you were going to be gentle --"

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, but --"

Bruce hums. "There are many ways to not be gentle, yes. Perhaps we'll explore all of them someday..."

Barbara whimpers again -- and very clearly tries not to squirm.

"Answer the question, little one."

"I'm not -- I wasn't --"

"Are you lying to me...?"

"Oh -- *fuck* --"

"Perhaps I should punish you."

She stares at him then, searching him for... truth? Insanity? The less acceptable brands of violence?

Bruce strokes down the bridge of her nose with one finger, down further over her philtrum --

He touches her soft mouth, then, and taps it lightly with his fingertip. "Were you ordering me?"

"Yes, but --"

"And then you lied to me?"

"Yes. I --"

"Yes, *what*."

Her eyes may never have been wider, and the clouds reveal the moon enough for them to show their green --

No, it's a darker, more shadowy green than it appears in daylight. He will remember that. He tightens his grip on her pubis and presses *hard* on the seam of her jeans --

"*Please* --"


"Please -- Batman?"

Bruce smiles. "Precisely. How should I punish you, do you think...?"

Barbara swallows and shakes her head. "I -- I don't want to be punished --"

"You don't have a choice in the matter."

She sucks in a sharp breath --

And cries out when Bruce presses on her seam once more. "Barbara... I'm going to make you a uniform which will frighten everyone who sees you in it."

"I'm -- I'm *small* --"

"People will learn to fear what they can't easily see. Many have already learned that. Now. Tell me how to punish you."

She is *wet*, brother...

I had my suspicions.


She bites her lip -- stops and squirms --

Stops and *shakes* --

"*Answer* me."

"*Nnh* -- I -- you could spank me, I guess --"

"Could I."

"Oh -- fuck. I don't know what you *want* --"

"Everything, Barbara. *Remember* that."

She nods jerkily and *starts* to cover her breasts --


She drops her hands and claws at Bruce's cape --

"Ask for it, little one."

"Ask -- I -- oh," she says, and stares at him. Her hair is slightly mussed, and her mouth is swelling despite Bruce's best efforts to the contrary.

"Ask for your punishment."

"P-please. Please punish me," she says, and her voice is small --

Her cheeks are *dark* with blood --

"Please punish me, Batman."


"Spank me -- please spank me --"


Her jaw drops and she *starts* to shake her head --

Bruce *lifts* her by his grip on her pubis --

"Oh, *God* -- I -- I'll turn over --"



Bruce nods to her breasts.

She gasps and claws at the cape *more* --

"Don't make me wait, little one."

She groans then, growls and shivers -- "You -- you were --"

"Trust in me," Bruce says, and rubs at the seam with his fingers --

And this whimper comes with a shuddering *gasp* -- "Please. Please spank my breasts, Batman."

"As you wish," but first Bruce touches them with his free hand, learns their textures, the shocking softness of skin which probably hasn't been exposed to direct sunlight in the past *decade*.

Even Silver's skin was less smooth --

And Barbara moans as Bruce's touches grow firmer, more *knowing* --

Barbara closes her *eyes* --

But that's all right for the first time. There are just as many ways to be gentle as there are not to be anything of the kind.


She pants when he begins to spank them lightly --

She shakes her head and *tries* to move away --


"Oh, fuck --" She whimpers and *bucks* --

And her nipples are very, very hard. Stiff and -- mm.

They become longer than I expected.

As you say. "I'd like to bite your nipples," Bruce says quietly.

Barbara whimpers and opens her eyes *slightly* --

"I won't do it tonight, little one. You're going to be too sensitive for that," and Bruce slaps each nipple twice before moving back to the other one --

Three times *lightly* --

"This neighborhood is accustomed to screams."

"Batman --"

"The fog... the fog *swallows* them, little one..."

She moans and arches --

*Clutches* his cape --

Pants and *pleads* with her eyes --

And the part of his brother which exists outside of him drops to his knees and stares hungrily at Barbara --

So beautiful --

"I'm going to stop soon, little one..."

"Please -- *please*!"

"Do they hurt?"

"God -- *yes*!"

"Would you be... soothed?"

"Nn -- what?"

Bruce goes back to alternating slaps, one and one, for thirty seconds --

One minute --

Barbara *shouts* --

"There," Bruce says, and stops. "There's something of a burning sensation now, yes?"

Barbara tries panting through her nose -- then gives up and opens her mouth again. "Please -- I mean -- yes, Batman --"

"Would you like the feeling soothed?"

She stares at him, confused and *hungry* --

"You are... impossibly beautiful, little one. Answer the question."

"Yes. Yes, I -- " And then she's shouting again, because his brother has moved behind her and covered her breasts with his hands --

His cool, smooth hands --

"Oh -- oh, *God* --"

And Bruce knows they aren't truly hands at all, anymore.

He opens her pants with one hand and cups her chin with the other. "Focus, little one."

She looks -- lost. Anguished. *Hungry*.


"B-*Batman* --"

"I'm going to give you an orgasm now."

"*Please* --"

"And you will surrender... everything."

"Please, Batman, I don't know what he's *doing* --"

Bruce laughs softly. "Pleasuring you... judging by your scent."

She whimpers and arches, *strains* -- but doesn't try to get away. Her blush is deep.

Her eyes are squeezed *shut* --

And her whimpers grow constant as he tugs her jeans and panties down around her slim ankles. Her pubic hair is the color of fox-fur, thick and *sleek* with her fluids --

And it's impossible not to taste her, not to lick out with his own tongue and his brother's as well --

She screams --

She screams again --

*Again* --

Just me now, brother.

As you say...

And Bruce knows by the *choked* moan that his brother's hands are only hands again, by the *questioning* whimper that there is only one tongue on her clitoris --

Bruce *sucks* --

And the screams begin again, so sweet and *sharp*. She drums her heels on the roof --

She strokes his *cowl* --

But Bruce needs more than that. He spreads her legs wider and stabs in with his tongue over and over until her taste starts to grow *mild* --

He licks her clean --

He sucks her clitoris again for another *scream* --

And then he pushes two fingers deep into her vagina as he shifts up to kiss her mouth *firmly*, swallowing one scream after another as he thrusts --

And thrusts --

And thrusts deep enough to *feel* her hymen --

Oh, yesss...

-- but not to break it.

She is whimpering into his mouth, babbling pleas and gasps and his name, please and *curses* --

He bites her lips, lower then upper --

And then he *takes* her mouth in the same rhythm he's using for his fingers, growling and *forcing* --

Her scream is *piercing* --

And then she begins clenching with *great* force --

And then the clenches are random and she's drumming her heels again, nuzzling Bruce's mouth and clawing at his chest armor --

And Bruce knows he will give her everything -- though if she wants freedom she'll have to be very, very convincing, indeed.

Gradually, her cries turn to panted whimpers and soft shivers, and he slows his thrusts and softens his kisses until she is holding him more than clinging *to* him.

After another few moments, she pulls back and searches him, licking her lips and staring --

And yelping again when his brother moves his hands from her breasts. She had forgotten them.

Bruce smiles. "How was that...?"

"I. Uh. Good? That was good," she says, blushing and shifting as though she wishes to close her legs.

Bruce cups her knees and squeezes them --

"You -- of course you're not done."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I can be."

She blinks rapidly, searches him --

And Bruce pulls back and sits on his heels, resting his palms on his thighs.

She begins to *pant* again.

"Tell me -- no. Ask."

"I -- did you... come in your pants?"

Bruce smiles. "No, I did not."

She bites her lip again, but seems to be fighting curiosity more than any other emotion.

"If there is a question I don't want to answer, I'll tell you. And I'll *always* tell you why."

A quick breath -- "You *wanted* a partner."

"Yes. Though it would be more accurate to say that I wanted *another* partner."

She starts to turn to look at the part of his brother still existing outside --

She stops herself --

She *frowns* -- and finishes the turn. "How do *you* feel about it?"

"My brother must never be lonely," his brother says, and his eyes gain the flash of silver.

"He has *you*."

His brother smiles. "My brother's greed is beautiful to me."

Bruce hums --

And Barbara's expression grows shrewd. "Was it *always* beautiful?"

We must keep her forever, brother.


And the part of his brother which remains outside... reaches out to touch Barbara's cheek. "I was very jealous once. My brother's love was entirely mine for six years, and I didn't want to see him share it with others. I imagined being turned aside. I imagined being *banished*."

Barbara shivers. "To... hell?"

"Not any of the hells *you* have been taught about, fire one. It would've been unbearable to be forced to live without him," and his brother *strokes* her cheek. "His love is *warmth* and *light*. I went without those things for a very, very long time."

Bruce grips his brother's hand. "You taught me much of what I know of love. Of its holiness."

"Sss. Did I also teach you greed...?"

"Perhaps," Bruce says, and lifts their joined hands to his brother's mouth so that he may lick, and suck --

So that he may growl and *nibble* --

And Barbara moans.

They look at her --

"I... just realized which hand you gave him. God, that's... really dirty."

"It's love," his brother says, and extends his tongue --

Barbara gasps --

And his brother coils his tongue around Bruce's stickiest finger and moans --

Bruce thrusts into his mouth --

*Takes* his mouth -

His brother moans and flexes his wings --

Again and again --

Barbara raises her hand to keep roof grit out of her eyes --

And his brother pulls back and hisses --

And then leaps down Bruce's throat, sharing Barbara's flavors as *he* understood them until Bruce is groaning and swaying on his knees --

"Oh -- *oh* -- God, I -- are you okay?"

Bruce laughs softly and licks his lips. "Very much so. My brother's senses are far, far stronger than my own... but he can share what he senses with me."

"He -- shared my taste."

"Oh, yes," Bruce says, and licks his lips again. "He longs to taste you at length."

Barbara swallows --

"And so do I."

Barbara reaches down almost absently, tugging on her longer hairs --

Blushing and moving her hand --

Closing her legs and *starting* to move back -- and then she shakes her head and looks determined.

"Yes, little one?"

"I'm not -- I'm not *five*."

"The pet name distresses you?"

"Some of us are *stuck* being small."

"You'd rather be... taller?"

She frowns and nods once.

"You're not that much shorter than the first Black Canary..."

"The *second* Black Canary is at least five-feet-seven, though --"

"And still growing, yes."

"And Hippolyta --"

"Is an Amazon," Bruce says, and raises an eyebrow. "Do you doubt that you can do this?"

"I -- all the *time* --"

"Don't," and Bruce cups her chin and forces her to meet his eyes. "Hold to your beliefs, and your desires, and your will --"

"And I can do anything? Please."

Bruce smiles again. "No one being can do anything. Not even gods. But those of us with... hmm... call it the courage of our convictions...? Those of us who remain focused on our goals can do very, very much, indeed."

I want to see Lex soon.

We will, brother.

Perhaps he will want his father's skull, this time.

Anything is possible. And Barbara is staring at him -- no.

Barbara is staring into him with a blend of hope and *hurt* in her eyes --

"We will do this together, Barbara."

"What -- what do you mean when you call me 'little one.'"

"That I wish to gather you into my arms and hide you within myself. That I wish to make love to you until your cries are piercing and rough. That I wish to set you free and watch you dance and laugh and *hurt*... though not too free."

Barbara swallows with an audible click --

Her arousal *rises*!

"I was my brother's little one for a long, long time, Barbara. Long after I grew taller than the form he chose."

"I -- what changed?"

"We did. We became brothers more than we were anything else to one another."

"Brothers who... have sex with each other."

"Incest... is something of a kink for me," Bruce says, and strokes her mouth. "There is nothing I will not teach you."

"I -- I won't be able to *do* --"

"Some things. But you'll still know *how* to do them," and Bruce smiles. "Just in case."

She nods then, careful not to dislodge his hand. So --

Bruce looks down to examine her breasts, which are reddened and swollen. Hm. "Tell me how easily you bruise."

"Not -- not very. I mean, I've been punched in the face without getting more than a little knuckle mark."

Bruce nods with satisfaction. "We'll be able to expose more of your face, then."

"Why would we *want* to?"

"Because humans fear things they can *almost* understand far more than they fear things they can't understand in the slightest."

"Oh. Oh -- that does make sense. Like the Uncanny Valley."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You have an interest in robotics?"

"In... computing in general," she says, and blushes --

"We'll use that."

This time, there's something like a *blaze* in her eyes -- "The police don't use computers even a *fraction* as much as they should."

"Agreed. Though your uncle has allowed me to teach him much."

"Maybe I'll teach him more."

Bruce sighs. "Please do."

She blushes -- and then reaches up and pulls the tie out of her hair, shaking the thick waves of it down past her shoulders. "Like this?"

I *want*!

"My brother wants to touch your hair... extensively."

"What about you?"

"You're beautiful in many, many ways... but I find I want to hide your hair from the night until you're more practiced."

"I don't -- why *don't* more of the female heroes have short hair?"

Bruce hums. "You didn't hear it from me... but the new Black Canary wears a wig. Which can be removed easily should she need to do so."

Barbara blinks rapidly -- and then giggles.

And then *snorts*.

And then coughs. "Um -- sorry. It's just. That's *really* ridiculous."

Bruce smiles. "Is it...?"

"Well -- I mean, she *announced* that she was the original Black Canary's daughter. And so she doesn't really... *does* it protect her identity?"

"Not when it comes off."

"Yes! And that has to be *really* distracting, because she doesn't even tie it *back*. I mean, it could get *caught* coming off and flop over into her eyes."

Bruce inclines his head. "For you, even once you're practiced, we'll give you something which will -- almost completely-- prevent the possibility of your hair getting into your eyes.

Barbara nods and runs her fingers through her own hair, tugging at the few tangles before shaking it out again and lying back on her elbows.

Bruce lets his nostrils flare. "Yes...?"

"You're not done."

"I'll never be done with you," Bruce promises, and smiles for her grunt. "Tell me that you want more."

"I -- I want more."

"Now be specific."

Barbara takes a deep breath and unzips her boots before pushing them off her feet with some effort.

It's even more of an effort not to help. It's --

It's sweeter when they make the choice on their own, brother.

As I did...?


She takes off her jeans and panties without looking at him --

And Bruce hums, and watches Barbara consider whether or not to take her warm, thick socks off. It's cool tonight -- the fog won't burn off for at least another eight to ten hours, and then only for a little while. Her nipples are, perhaps, hard more for the cold than for anything else.

She is beautiful.

She is...

She toes her socks off and *tosses* her hair, planting her feet with her legs spread wide.

Her vulva is as flushed as the rest of her --

"Fuck me, Batman."

"Happily," Bruce says, and cups her small foot, lifting it to his mouth --

"Oh --"

He bites her toes, the pads of her feet --

He licks the arch and *sucks* her toes --

"I -- um?"

Bruce laughs softly. "When you learn my secrets..."


"There'll be nothing we can't have."

"That's my test?"

"That's *one* of your tests," Bruce says, and strokes the arch of her foot lightly --

"I'm not ticklish."

Bruce inclines his head. "Show me how you touch yourself when you're thinking of me."

A blush -- but she reaches down nearly immediately, rubbing down and up and down, her fingers spreading around her small clitoris.

"Tell me."

"Your. I think about your -- gloves --"

"Gauntlets. Yours will be... similar."

She moans and *flushes* -- and strokes herself faster. "I didn't. I didn't realize how rough they were. How -- I didn't remember the -- um. Texturing."

"I have sleek ones..."

"Oh --"

"But not with me *tonight*. For other nights... I'll be better prepared."

She swallows and licks her lips. "I think... they must be... cold."


"And -- artificial."


"*Hard* --"

"Pinch yourself."

"Fuck --" She winces and does it, drumming her heels --

"Do you ever do this to yourself?"

"Y-yes --"


"When. When I'm really. Please, Batman --"

"Say it," Bruce says, and removes his belt, setting it aside.

She moans and stares at it --


"*Nnh* -- when I'm really *horny* --"

"Are you punishing yourself?"

"No -- a little --"

"Shall I spank you again?"

"I didn't *lie*!"

Bruce hums and reaches between his legs for the catch that allows him to urinate while on patrol without stripping himself overmuch. "You almost did."

"Please -- please --"

"On your hands and knees."

"*Please*, Batman --"


She moans and *bucks* -- and does it, panting as she inadvertently drags the cape out of true with her left knee.

Bruce reaches around her waist with one arm, lifting her --

"Batman --"

And straightening it.

"Oh -- oh, God, *please* --"

"Who has spanked you before, Barbara?"

"Please --"

He spanks her labia *lightly* --

And her scream... pierces.

Bruce takes a deep breath and decides not to free himself entirely, yet. He'll need his control. "Answer me."

"My -- my asshole *father* --"

"You didn't care for that."

"Of *course* not," she says, and they laugh together --

And Bruce leans in and kisses the back of her neck. "I'm not your father --"

"But do you want to be my *Daddy*?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "How much pornography are you familiar with...?"

"Ah... some?" Her giggle is nervous --

She *wriggles* --

And Bruce spanks her labia once --

Four times --

"Ah -- ah -- *ahn* --"

"He didn't spank you... here."


Bruce stops, smiling for the *purity* of the affront in her voice. "Will you let Jim be your father...?"

Another wriggle -- "Please -- I don't --"

"He cares for you deeply..."

"Please, Batman --"

"You make him... proud."

She whimpers and hangs her head. "I don't -- I don't want to talk about him. Now."

Bruce hums. "As you say. We can play... many games, Barbara."

"After I figure out who you are?"

"Or right now," Bruce says, and begins spanking her harder than before --

Faster --

*More* --

"Oh, God -- oh, *fuck* --"

"If I were your Daddy..."

"Please -- I mean -- don't --"

"I would teach you, care for you, dress you, heal your wounds..."

"Oh -- *Jesus*, you're a pervert --"

Bruce laughs and pushes two fingers deep --

"*Batman* --!"

"Batgirl," he growls, and spanks her clitoris light and *fast* --

Until she begins to scream and buck and *clench* her way through an orgasm.

*Taste*, brother!

Oh, yes...

Bruce flips her over onto her back and licks her clean, sucks and *slurps* her clean until she's moaning -- and gripping the ears of the cowl.

"Good girl," he says, looking up and shaking her hands free. He begins to take her with his fingers again, working against the mild swelling until she opens for him again --

"Batman -- fuck -- *fuck* --"

"As you say," and Bruce smiles down into her dazed eyes and takes her harder, making sure to bump her hymen with each thrust --

"*Nnh* -- please -- *please* --"

"Does it hurt...?"


"It will when I take you --"

"Fuck me, you'll *fuck* me --"

"Oh, yes. And give you another orgasm. Though possibly not *while* I'm inside you --"

She whimpers and shakes her head --

"Tell me."

"It's -- it's the *fantasy* --"

"To have me inside you when you come...? Many women can't --"

"I don't *care*," she says, glaring up at him -- and reaching up to claw at his cheeks.

He bites her fingers and growls --

She gasps and *clenches* --

And Bruce *sucks* her fingers and releases them. "There can be no success without... striving."

She snorts and sucks her own fingers --

Moans and works her slim hips --

*Lifts* them for every thrust --

"Barbara --"

"Call me -- call me Batgirl --"

"Say please...?"

She growls and clenches *hard* --

So Bruce takes her harder --

And harder --

And now her screams seem to cut through the fog where they don't echo off old brick and stone, and echo --

And echo --


"*Please*! Please please --"

He growls "Batgirl" again while he works her G-spot --

"Oh, *God* --"

Brother, brother, *please*!

And he can feel his brother aching, aching to *rise* within him --

You ache, *too*!

He does. He *does* --

And so it's necessary to free himself: to release the panels, crack open the armored jock --

Batgirl isn't looking at him, and *that's* an ache, as well --

But she will feel him. She will --

He moves to *take* --


He grunts and pulls his fingers out -- and then pulls a condom from his belt. There were no birth control pills among her toiletries the last time he broke in, and he will not make a child --


Perhaps someday. Perhaps --

But Batgirl is looking at him now, staring at his shaking hands as he rolls on the condom, as he slicks himself with medical-grade lubricant to ensure the minimum amount of *accidental* discomfort --

Batgirl is licking her *lips* --

And spreading her legs wider.

"You're beautiful."

"Don't -- please don't make me wait --"

"No. Not anymore," Bruce says, and pushes her left thigh back just enough that her inner labia almost seem to *gape* --

And beckon.

His brother shows his teeth within him --

His brother licks Bruce's lips --

"Oh -- your *eyes* --"

"We are Batman *together*, Batgirl," and Bruce presses the tip of his glans against the vestibule of her vagina. "And you are ours."

"Nnh -- oh --"

"Yes --"

"Batman --"

"Yes --"

"So -- so *much* --"

"*Yes*. *Now*," he says, and *thrusts*, gasping for the sensation of resistance --

The *stretch* --

She doesn't scream --

And the sense of *breach* --

She doesn't scream --

She stares up at him with wide eyes, flushed cheeks --

She shivers and claws at the cape --

"*Batgirl* --"


"Please *what*."

"More -- or -- oh, God, you're *in* me --"

"I will not pull out -- yet --"

"*Batman* -- oh, God, don't -- don't stay *still*!"

And he has to smile for that --

And smile wider for the feel of his brother making his penis flex over and over again --

Barbara grunts and *clenches* --


She beats at the cape with her fists --

She *sobs* -- but there are no tears. There --

"Batman, *now*!"

And so it's necessary to gather her up, to kiss her cries into his mouth, to spread her over his lap and thrust --

And thrust --

And take her grunts --

Her *sharp* cries --

She squeezes her *eyes* shut, and there is a part of him which only wants to be gentle, to allow her *that* freedom --


Yes. "*Open*."

She screams before she does it -- and then her eyes are wide and wet and *full* --

"Do you *like* it --"

She nods *frantically* --

And Bruce knows that he's smiling like a beast, that he's holding her too tightly --

More! MORE!

He bites her lip --

Her ear --

Her chin --

"Ohn -- oh, *Batman* --!"

He licks her cheek and *takes* her mouth --

He grips her hips --

And doesn't realize how hard he's holding on until she growls and bites *his* lip.


He growls and eases his grip -- he can't let go --

And she begins to ride him, urging a rhythm that's *gentler* -- but much, much faster.

He can -- he can *allow* it --

He can *wallow* in it, and lick into her mouth again --

Again and again --

"Beautiful -- beautiful girl --"

"Batman --"

"You're *mine* --"

She cries out high, sharp and *high* --

She shudders and loses the rhythm --

He gives it back to her, *forces* it --

"Nuh -- oh, God -- oh, *please* --"

"*Take* --"


And he's growling again, hurt and *needy* --

Her throat is so *pale* --

He could never mark Silver's *skin* --

But Batgirl will be bruised, and scarred.

Batgirl's body will show the *work* -- and much, much more.

He grips her hips hard once more, digging in with his fingers --

She cries out with something like *betrayal* --

But he does not, *will* not change the rhythm. He will give this to her *always* --

"Oh -- *oh* --"

"Are you --"

"Close -- but -- I don't know what I *need*!"

Which strongly suggests that it isn't simply more of *this* --

Brother, try --

*Yes*, and Bruce releases *one* hip and pinches her swollen nipple --

She screams --

He pinches *harder* --

"*Batman* --"


She fights against his hold on her hip --

She tries to *slam* herself down onto him --

And he can give her this, too, he can *grind* his way in --

And *in* --

Her cry is something rusty, something heavy and *unused* --

She beats at his shoulders with her small, hard *fists* --

"*Batgirl.*. *Now*."

She wails for him then, tossing her --

Her beautiful hair --

Her clenches make something in Bruce's vision *blank*, something needful and --

He kisses her screams --

She clenches harder and he shouts into her mouth --

He loses --

He loses so *much*, and he doesn't remember the decision to drop them, to lay her out and *rut* as she clenches --

As he *bellows* his pleasure --

As she stares up at him with stunned pleasure --

And growing calculation.


Little sissster...

And that's all the warning he's given before she begins clenching purposefully, *viciously* --

He --

He *is* a beast --

He smells --

His own *sweat* --


"*Batgirl* --"

"*Come*. Please."

He shows his teeth --

His brother *laughs* --

And so does he as fire takes him, takes him over --

Tumbles and *renews* him as he spills --

And spills --

And keeps himself from collapsing on top of Batgirl by the simple expedient of exhaling his brother and having him *hold* him up.

"Oh -- fuck."

Bruce laughs, soft and low.

"Fire one. You *move* usss."

"Um. Thanks? Were you... I mean. When he was fucking me..."

"You would have felt me. Known me."

Batgirl bites her lip and nods. And strokes Bruce's sweaty cheek.

"Was it like your fantasy...?"

"Usually we're in a *bed* for that --"

"Your bed...?"

She looks at him from under her lashes. "Sometimes."

"My bed, then."

"Yes --"

"Learn who I am *quickly*," Bruce says, and lifts them once more -- and holds her up so that he won't slip further in without her desiring just that.

Her expression quirks as viciously as a clench --


"What if I learn who you are and tell Uncle *Jim*?"

Bruce laughs again. "Then I strongly suspect that there'll be a gun aimed at my genitals sooner rather than later."

She narrows her eyes. "I *could* just tell him your name."

"And save the rest for a rainy day...?"

"Maybe you don't own me as much as you think you do."

Bruce lets his smile be as broad, as *wet*, as it wishes to be --

And she narrows her eyes --

And he holds her up with *one* hand and uses the other to cup her pale, thin stem of a throat.

Her eyes are wide, but she neither blinks nor turns away. She --

"Perfect girl. I think you'll find... that we own each other."

She gasps --

And he kisses her carefully, softly --

She shivers --

She clenches --

She *whimpers* -- and kisses him back, warm and slick --

And more perfect than perfect when his brother finds a space where their lips aren't quite touching and pours himself in slowly --

*Thickly* --

They take her mouth with two tongues as she whimpers and shivers --

And presses closer.

It's not truly a surprise when she insists on taking him deep within once more, when she *grinds* herself down, heedless of swelling and discomfort --





"Sir, please wake."

The first thought in his mind is that it's too early.

The second thought is that it's *Alfred*, who never wakes him without there being an *emergency*.

The third thought is to wonder where his brother is, and why he hadn't been *warned* --

But the fourth thought...

Bruce smiles before he opens his eyes. "I have a visitor."

"Indeed you do, Master Bruce. And I believe you should tell her --"

Bruce sits up and rests a gentle hand on Alfred's wrist, opening his eyes to a new day, a *beautiful* day for all that rain is sheeting down and guaranteeing a more dangerous than usual -- if better-smelling -- patrol some hours from now. "No, Alfred."

Alfred sniffs. "Sir --"

"She's going to be a partner to me."

"Is that *all* she shall be?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Alfred raises one in return... but it was not Bruce's decision that Alfred never be a father to him, as opposed to what he *was*. There are some questions a gentleman's gentleman must never, ever ask.

Bruce waits --

And, ultimately, it doesn't take long, at all, before Alfred closes his eyes for a long moment and steps back. "Sir."

"I'll receive her in the study, Alfred."

"As you say," Alfred says, and brushes invisible dust from his cuffs. "Will you take tea?"

Bruce checks his time sense -- "A light lunch will be sufficient, Alfred. To be served in the Cave."

For a moment, long and bleak, Alfred only looks into him, and Bruce --

Bruce knows what he's searching for. There are many, many questions Alfred has never asked, after all.

And nearly all of those questions have the same root.

"There will be no true harm offered, Alfred. Not ever to her."

"And how will you measure --" Alfred's teeth close with a click and he shakes his head once. "Will your *brother* accept that edict, sir?"

"Yes," Bruce says, quiet and sure -- and sure that his brother is entertaining Batgirl even as they speak. The question of how *long* Alfred has known about his brother --

He hadn't mentioned him even *obliquely* until just before Bruce left for his training --

There are questions that a gentleman never asks, as well, and right now...

Alfred closes his eyes again and shudders.

Bruce gives him time, standing and retrieving his robe, then moving to the bathroom. He must, at the very least, wash his face and brush his teeth --


"Yes, Alfred?"

"Was there ever a chance..." Alfred trails off, then, and it's as good as an engraved invitation to say nothing, at all.

Still -- he owes Alfred far more than that. Bruce turns to look Alfred in the eye. "Yes. Before Crime Alley many things were possible... though some were more unlikely than others."

Alfred's expression is pained. "Only then, sir...?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Only then."

Alfred inclines his head and turns to go --

"But Alfred..."

He doesn't turn. "Sir?"

"Even before Crime Alley, I would've done nearly anything to end the loneliness."

Alfred shudders again --

Nods --

And departs.

Bruce turns to the bathroom mirror and begins his ablutions, and gives his mind over to the question of how long he has before his brother comes to --

"Hurry, brother! Hurry *now*!"

-- rush him. Bruce laughs and shivers for the feel of his brother coiled around and around him.

And hurries.


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