Tim wakes up naked, which is alarming --

And doesn't stop being alarming when he opens his eyes to find Dick sitting at the foot of the bed and spinning Tim's boxer-briefs on his fingers. He's wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his favorite leather jacket, and he is --

Wait, Tim was going to --

"Ooh, I get a blush? We *like* blushes, little brother."

"*We* like *clothes*."

"Be nice; I haven't seen you naked in *months*," Dick says, and lets Tim's boxer-briefs go flying across the room. "And you didn't have all these interesting bruises then."

"I had *different* bruises then."

"But not *sex* bruises --"

"Dick."

Dick smiles wryly. "Too much?"

Tim pinches two fingers together and sits up on his elbows. "I'm a bit disconcerted by the fact that you managed to get these off me -- wait, did you gas me?"

"Forty-five minutes ago. Just a *little* dose so I could get some cuddle-time in."

"I. Dick."

"Hey, you *do* still have to get more of a tolerance to that compound."

"You..." Tim sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's definitely logier than usual, and his time sense -- "What time is it?"

"Just a little after one. You needed more sleep, too --"

"I'm not mad at you."

"*Good* --"

"I'd rather *remember* cuddling with you, Dick."

Dick blinks -- and then he simply *is* pinning Tim -- because there's enough of the drug still in his system that putting up a fight would be entirely useless -- "Tim..."

Tim smiles ruefully. "Good morning."

"Good morning. I love you. I promise to only gas you sometimes. *Please* talk to me about -- God, something."

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"You *know* what I'm talking about, little brother!"

Tim winces -- he does. He really --

"Please. Just -- please. I don't -- I feel like I'm losing you --"

"You couldn't."

"Tim --"

"You -- you really couldn't."

Dick frowns. "Bruce told me you're thinking of retiring as Robin."

"But not actually going anywhere --"

"Who, Tim? Who do you want to be?"

"Ah -- Nightwing needs a Flamebird? I mean, that's just one of the --"

There's a knock on his door. A *familiar* --

Tim sighs. "Come in, Clark."

"Oh, I'd be happy to," Clark says, and he's carrying... a palm-top. Or rather, one of the incredibly advanced and somewhat terrifyingly powerful mini-computers that the Fortress creates and periodically attempts to use to colonize the world. Clark is holding its tentacles firmly, though, and so there's only a small amount of danger. "They're only thoughts, of course. Barely sketches, truly, but... ah?"

And there is an image of Tim -- as he was at fourteen -- in a uniform close to Bette's --

In something which makes Tempest's uniform look subtle --

In something which makes Dick's *first* Nightwing uniform look... like something Tim admired more than feared --

In something closer to the *second* Nightwing uniform, only with red and gold and orange accents --

And, finally, in the match to the *current* Nightwing uniform, with flame-stripes rather than blue stripes. The Tim in that image is at least seventeen... and has what looks to be a B-cup.

And Clark looks hopeful.

"I --" Dick frowns. "I like them, but..."

"Yes, Dick?"

"*When* did you start planning these?"

"Ah... well. The two of you worked together so wonderfully while Bruce was healing..." And Clark beams at both of them. He doesn't quite try to push them closer together, but it's impossible to avoid seeing that desire in his eyes.

Tim smiles and shakes his head. "It's only a fantasy, Clark --"

Dick shivers and unwinds one of the palm-top's tentacles from his hair --

"Oh, terribly sorry --"

"Mm-hm. Little brother... it can be more than a fantasy. I've loved -- I've missed working with a partner. *Badly*."

And it was --

It was wonderful with Dick. *Every* time they'd worked together, but for those weeks while Bruce was away --

For that time when he was *Dick's* Robin, and no one else's, and it had been a fantasy that he'd been *ashamed* of when he'd had it the first time --

Robin's Robin.

Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Nightwing doesn't work in Gotham anymore," he says, and opens his eyes again.

"Blüdhaven needs --"

"*Gotham* needs more."

Dick shivers and strokes Tim's lips with his index finger. "Is that your only reason?"

"Dick --"

"Is that. Your only. *Reason*."

"I -- no," Tim says, and deals with watching Dick frown, watching him *hurt* -- "It's not you --"

"It's *you*? Little brother, are you breaking up with me?"

"Oh -- God. We're not *dating* --"

"And we're not partners, either, but both of those things can *change*."

And Clark is actually nodding *along* -- because he's right there.

And he's making... mushing motions.

Tim sighs and catches a tentacle before it can do something awful to his ear --

"Oh, dear, sorry --"

"It's all right, Clark, but... ah. I need some time alone with Dick."

"Oh, of course," Clark says, and gathers all the tentacles together again. "Please, keep me in mind?"

Tim smiles helplessly. "The alternative is... impossible."

Clark hums. "Until later," and he's gone -- and the door clicks shut *softly* --

And Dick strokes Tim's throat -- over the bruises. "Do you like it rough, little brother?"

"Ah -- sometimes. A little. And sometimes more than a little. Dick --"

"What else is keeping you from wanting to be my partner?"

"The distinct desire to start doing distinctly un-Robin-ly things to criminals."

Dick frowns. "You're already pretty... I mean, all those broken hands are *hard* to heal from. You know that."

"Yes, I do. And --" Tim shakes his head. "There's more. I almost never use the strikes and touches which cause the maximum amount of pain --"

"But you *want* to?"

"I do, yes. Because I can either do things like *that* to get the information Bruce gets just by *looming* over people... or I can break more bones. Or slash more faces. Or --"

Dick holds up a hand.

"You get what I'm saying."

"I do. I don't really like -- what the hell do you *talk* about with Luthor?"

"Mostly? My issues with sexuality and pleasure in general. He's rather invested in making me more well-adjusted in those respects."

"You really --" Dick shakes his head. "You need to start being a lot nicer to Clark, considering how much shit he's *not* giving you for this."

"I appreciate it more than I can say. I... it's not that I *never* plan to take him up on his myriad offers --"

"It's that you want Luthor *more*?"

"Right now? Yes."

Dick winces.

"I --"

"No, don't soften that. Please, just -- let's keep being honest, all right?"

Tim takes a deep breath. "All right, Dick. I'm... I have fantasies about Clark... often."

They both turn to look at the door -- no knock.

Tim hums. "I'm usually female -- or significantly closer to being female -- in those fantasies."

Dick turns to look at the door *again* -- "All right, I guess you do have him trained." He frowns again. "How often does that happen? Your wanting someone but not having the right body -- in your mind -- to be with them?"

Tim waves a hand. "I... sometimes? I'm also significantly more female in my fantasies about Barbara."

"I -- " Dick shakes his head and picks the *gold* studs up off the bedside table, slipping them into Tim's ears --

"Dick --"

"You should've had these on *anyway*, little -- sister?"

"I'll always be your brother, Dick --"

"How *much* more female?"

"Ah... good afternoon, Barbara."

"How. Much. More. *Female*?"

"I -- significantly. I always at least have breasts."

Barbara hums, and uses the scrambler to lengthen it... significantly. Which definitely suggests that she's in a better mood than she was in last night.

"Am I forgiven yet?"

"Not even *remotely*, Ambiguous Wonder. What were you *thinking*?"

"Barbara --"

"You *failed* to answer that question last night."

"I --"

Dick starts massaging his chest. It feels... wonderful in every way. "Don't mind me, little brother."

"All right," Tim says, and rests his hands lightly on the backs of Dick's. "Barbara, I was thinking that I needed him. And that, in that moment, he needed me just as much. I was thinking that I needed to be *alone* with him -- or as close to that as both of us could manage. I was thinking... that the pick-up in the mic was more than up to the challenge of a teak bedside table."

"You weren't wrong about that last --"

"Obviously --"

"Tim. Don't fall in love with him."

"I wasn't *planning* on it, Barbara -- but I already care about him a great deal. He touches a part of me..." Tim shakes his head. "That's neither here nor there --"

"I think it is."

"Barbara --"

"I think... damn it, you *know* I just want to protect you, don't you?"

"Yes, I do --"

"And you know... he's charming as hell."

"He's not going to talk me out of -- or into -- anything but exciting clothing."

Barbara laughs softly. "Tim. He's talked you into *dating* him. *Seriously*."

"I... all right, there's that, but --"

"You're not experimenting with him."

"No, but --"

"You're giving *him* information about your childhood, emotions, and overall *self* that you haven't given *any* of us. *Including* Stephanie."

Tim -- winces.

And Dick raises his eyebrows at him -- he's not listening in.

"You have a point, Barbara --"

"I *know* I do."

"It's just --" Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to work on that last. Starting as soon as you sign off."

"You *are* allowed to speak to *me*, too."

Tim smiles. "I know. But it's harder."

A pause -- "Tell me why?"

"I've wanted -- I've wanted to spend more time with you --"

"You *can*, Tim --"

"And I've wanted. I don't know. I can't -- all right, no, I'll just say it: I've wanted to be your little sister, Barbara."

"Oh... Tim."

Tim laughs quietly. "Yes. And -- I spent a rather long time... being confused about that. And feeling wrong around you. And -- other things. Useless things."

"And that's... Tim, you can *be* my little sister. It's *okay*."

"It's just -- I'll never stop wanting to be Dick's little *brother*, and --"

"They can both be true. I *promise* that it works that way," Barbara says, and sighs --

And Dick stiffens -- and toggles his comm. "I'm here."

"I know you are," Barbara says. "Work on her shoulders a little more."

"I can *do* that," Dick says, and strokes up Tim's chest to his shoulders, and --

Tim moans for the *perfection* of the touch, the --

So loving and *skilled* --

And Dick is smiling at him, hair hanging down and shadowing his face in only warm ways, only *welcoming* ways --

"Tell her -- him. Tim."

Tim laughs quietly. "Either works. Any works. I don't -- I haven't come down *solidly* on that score, yet."

"And it's okay if you never do," Barbara says. "Dick, tell her that she can be *anything* she wants to be. Please."

Dick frowns. "Of course you can, little brother. You can be -- wait, this is what Luthor tells him, isn't it?"

"Really yes."

"Dick, Barbara --" Tim sighs and starts to sit up --

Dick pushes him down --

"All right, I'm down. I'm also -- I know he isn't the One True Source of actualization. I'm not. I'm not that fucked-up."

"Are you sure?"

And Barbara is the *kind* of silent which means that she's waiting -- impatiently -- to see what he'll say to Dick. Which...

Very tactically sound. It's just one of the reasons why he doesn't usually *allow* his family members to gang up on him. But --

"I'm sure, Dick."

Dick's frown gets *deeper* --

"I'm *sure*," Tim says, and strokes Dick's forearms. "In the end, *much* of what he's been telling me is that I could've been having warmth and companionship all along."

"And... you needed to hear that from someone other than your family?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "I can be rather egregiously slow, Dick. About -- especially about emotions."

Dick nods slowly and works Tim's obliques --

Tim sighs and arches, closing his eyes --

"Go away now, Dick."

"I love you, *too*, Babs. Out."

"Tim..."

"I'm listening, Barbara."

"Let us be your family."

"I'm. I'm working on it."

"We love you. We loved you before Luthor knew you existed."

Tim smiles. It's tempting to point out that Lex almost certainly had a dossier on his family long before Jason died -- no. "Noted."

Barbara sighs. "Will you change your name?"

Oh... that. "Not... yet."

"But someday?"

"I still think of myself as Tim. I... don't know how that will feel in the future."

"That's fair, too. And Nightwing does, in fact, need a Flamebird."

"Barbara --"

"Keep thinking about it. Especially since it won't be long before Bruce calls Dick home officially."

Tim frowns. "That --"

"Yes. Even *with* the 'haven being what it is. Keep thinking about it."

Tim swallows. "I -- noted."

"I love you, little sister -- and I love that blush. Out."

Tim takes a deep breath. "Out." And then he turns back to Dick, who is stroking lightly *around* the bruises on Tim's hips. It's ticklish and soft *and* arousing enough that Tim is starting to get an erection. "Dick..."

Dick smiles at him from under his lashes -- and kisses Tim's hips. "No pressure."

Tim snorts. "I do want you --"

"Now...?"

Tim smiles and sits up on his elbows again --

And Dick narrows his eyes and kisses Tim's abs. It's --

Tim cups the back of Dick's head and strokes, cups -- "I love you."

"I love you -- Jason wasn't -- he wasn't my brother *enough*."

"Ah -- this is not meant to be facetious --"

"But...?"

"Why?"

Dick laughs softly, *anciently* -- and sits back on his heels. Too far away --

Oh -- no. Too far away. Tim rolls up onto his own knees and crawls closer --

And Dick smiles with surprise, pleasure, *happiness* --

Tim does nothing to avert the hug, letting himself settle into being squeezed and petted and *lightly* molested. "I love the way you smell."

"The leather helps --"

"I mean --" Tim nuzzles the collar of the jacket aside. "Beyond the leather. Your -- under-scent."

Dick shivers and shrugs the jacket off --

And pulls off his t-shirt --

And *opens* his jeans -- before pulling Tim back in for another hug. "I love you so much. I *need* you."

"I'm here --"

"My -- my little brother," Dick says, and kisses a line along Tim's right shoulder. "I was afraid of what Jay would say... a lot. About me, about Bruce, about our various relationships..." Dick pulls back and smiles ruefully. "He acted like his vocabulary was mostly made up of 'uh,' 'fuck,' and '*fuck*,' but no one saw to the heart of people quicker or more *devastatingly*. Bruce was already in love with him before they even saw each other's eyes, but even if he hadn't been, it wouldn't have taken long. He just -- he *saw*. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think I do, yes. He could... read people."

"Like a book. Written for toddlers. In *really large print*. It's one of the reasons why it always seemed weird to me that he wasn't much of a detective out there, but..." Dick shakes his head again. "He could see *me*. Not that I've ever been all that hard to read compared to the rest of the family, but I could see that he knew that I'd never gotten a taste of Bruce, that that was killing me as much as not being Robin anymore was killing me, that I was angry and sad and *needy*..."

"Dick... are you sure --"

"I'm sure, all right. Because he never *stopped* fucking with me about various things, but he stopped fucking with me about *those* things right away. Just --" Dick snaps his fingers. "Like that. And it only took me meeting his eyes for a minute after he said something about me being jealous that I wasn't wearing the panties."

Tim winces.

"Yes, *that*," Dick says, and laughs again. "And -- God, Bruce was between us. Huger than life and twice as *painful*. So I could make him my little wing -- and he loved that, and I loved him loving it -- and he could make me his Big Bird, but we couldn't... we never really..." Dick squeezes his eyes shut --

And Tim hugs Dick again. He has to. He needs --

He needs *this*: the feel of Dick relaxing against him, the feel of him sighing against Tim's throat. "The closest we ever got was the day Kory talked us into that threesome. That *one* threesome, because he stopped coming around as often... and of course he'd hang out with Roy, and Donna..." Dick squeezes Tim *hard*. "This is where my guilt comes in, little brother."

"You shouldn't *feel* guilty --"

"Barbara's explained that to me, and so has Roy, and so has everyone I've spoken to about this... it doesn't change the way I feel," Dick says, and strokes Tim's back. "It doesn't change the fact that I *could've* had more of him if I'd just been willing to *cope*. And now I can't have more of him, at all."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut and strokes *Dick's* back --

"I guess -- there's a life lesson in there somewhere."

"Never take anyone or anything for granted?"

"And never let pain -- or fear of pain -- keep you away from someone you care about," and Dick pulls back again to smile at Tim. "You're sure as hell not letting it keep you away from Luthor. Or are you not afraid of him?"

"I'm... it's hard to fear him. As opposed to fearing *for* him."

"How does *that* work?"

"He's -- wearing his heart on his sleeve."

Dick stares at him.

"Perhaps you could let Barbara play some of the audio for you," Tim says, and turns to stroke the small box with the tanzanite studs --

"Is that what does it for you, little brother?"

"Dick --"

"A complete lack of emotional self-preservation?"

"I --"

"I can *do* that, Tim. I'm -- I'm pretty damned *good* at that since being bad at it lost me hours and days with *Jay*."

Tim closes his eyes -- and twines his fingers with Dick's.

"Oh... Tim?"

"It works with him. It's -- incredibly tempting. Flattering. Intoxicating."

"But it wouldn't be with me?"

Tim opens his eyes again and smiles. "You don't have to do anything to be tempting and intoxicating, Dick."

"But I do need to flatter you...?"

"No, not that. I --" Tim shakes his head and leans in slowly, carefully --

"Tim," and Dick kisses him -- not softly. It's not a *painful* kiss, but there's nothing slow or careful or hesitant about it. It --

Dick wants this --

Wants this with *him* --

And the only possible response to Dick sweeping into Tim's mouth with his tongue is to moan and press closer, drag Dick's hands to his hips --

Dick twists free and grips him there --

Tim moans again and licks Dick's tongue, sucks it lightly and tries to convince, to *urge* --

And Dick pants against Tim's mouth and yanks Tim closer, spreading Tim's thighs over his own --

He's at least half-*hard* --

He's *Dick* --

And a part of Tim is three and babbling and thrilled --

Nine and *staring* and thrilled --

Eleven and stunned breathless, hungry and *pained* --

Fourteen and bruised and *replete*, because Dick had called him little brother --

Dick had winked at him before pulling the cowl down --

Dick had smiled at him like there was no one else he wanted to see, no one else Tim needed to *be* --

"All -- fuck, I didn't mean stop --"

Dick scrubs a hand over Tim's hair and sucks Tim's lower lip for a moment -- "Tim..."

"I. Yes?"

"All *what*?"

Tim blushes --

And Dick is looking him over, studying him *hungrily*. "Tell me -- please tell me."

"All my life. All -- it's been *you*."

"I don't think -- I don't think I should want you to need me like you needed me when you were thirteen, little brother."

Tim snorts. "Why not shoot for the moon? Sometimes, when I was eleven, I would come close to tears because I knew I'd never have you."

"*Tim* --"

"It's all right," Tim says, and cups Dick's cheek -- he shaved. He almost never does on his days off, unless he's going to see *Barbara*. And he usually just shaves *there* to save time. He -- "Are you going to the Clocktower after this?"

"I'm going to *try*, but I don't think I'll manage. I need to do some undercover intel work in the 'haven. It's been -- well, weeks, and I already know I can't let that go so long --"

Tim kisses Dick again, cupping his face with both hands and *dealing* with the fact that he has a right to this, that he can *have* this --

And last night he hadn't been frightened, at all --

He hadn't lain awake and shaken or berated himself or anything *like* that. Part of that was the scent of Steph's conditioner on his fingers, but part of that was everything he'd done, everything *they'd* done --

And the fact that it was all right. *All* of it --

*Bruce* --

Tim shivers --

Dick *groans* -- and cups and squeezes Tim's ass. That --

He *can't* today, but --

But it's all right to push into the touch anyway, to take and give that as he coaxes Dick's tongue back into his mouth --

Dick *thrusts* with his tongue --

Tim grunts and ignores his scrotum's hatred of denim enough to grind --

Dick *spreads* Tim's ass --

And Tim cries out helplessly. Just --

That *feeling* --

It's *Dick*, and he would've anytime, any*where* --

It's Dick, and remembering those emotions is enough to *bring* him there, to --

Can he blame his inner child for the way he's doing his best to *climb* Dick? Is this something --

No, he can *have* this, and make Dick happy, and give them both the feel of him bucking for Dick's fingers in his cleft, rough and *seeking* --

And the *press* against his hole is enough to make him cry out again even as Dick winces --

"You're too *swollen*, little brother --"

"I know -- fuck, just --" Tim shakes his head and kisses Dick again, and again --

Musses Dick's *hair* --

Bites Dick's lip --

And Dick grunts and pushes Tim *back* --

"*Please* --"

Dick pants and *stares*. "Just like that, little brother?"

"I -- have certain triggers?"

Dick licks his lips and moves off the bed to strip out of his jeans and boxer-briefs. "I *like* those triggers. I want to learn all *about* those triggers. I want -- you know what I want."

Tim strokes his own thighs. "I... have discovered a rather intense liking for *hearing* what people want --"

"'Discovered'?"

Tim smiles ruefully and moves further onto the bed. "Discovered... that the desire translates well from fantasy to reality."

"You want me to *talk*, little brother...?" And Dick crawls back onto the bed and closer --

*Closer* --

"I can talk..."

"I'm... sure you can --"

"I can talk about how *much* I want to kick myself for repressing all the old fantasies of pulling you onto my lap and doing... things."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Things?'"

"You responded so well the *first* time I had you on my lap."

Tim snorts. "Dick. I don't think you could -- or should -- give me *another* vocation."

"How about just renewing the old one?" And Dick pats his thighs.

"I... I'm not *that* small anymore --"

"Small enough. Please?"

Will you -- no. Out *loud*. "Will you whisper in my ear?"

Dick pants again. "Yeah. I really, really will."

Tim swallows. "Which -- which way should I face?"

"Which way do you *want* --"

"No. I -- your fantasy. For now?"

Dick narrows his eyes -- "Away from me. So... so I can tease myself with how much you can *hide*."

"You want me to hide?"

"Not even a little," Dick says, and smiles wryly. "But I know you will anyway."

"Dick --"

"I know... you can't really help that. At least at first...?"

Tim licks his own lips. "I don't -- *can't* -- hide very much when I'm aroused enough."

"Oh... little brother. Come here."

"I should also -- it's not that." Tim growls and shakes his head --

"What's wrong?"

"It's not that *long* ago that Bruce sucked me off and I freaked out enough... to run to Lex."

Dick winces. "But -- you were with him last night and it was all right?"

"Steph was there --"

"And that's the kind of thing that should happen *all the time* --"

"And -- it worked with Lex. Mostly worked."

Dick frowns. "Tell me I don't have to kill him."

"You *don't* have to kill him. He is... very, very good at talking people down."

"And Bruce -- isn't." Dick snorts. "God, I can't believe that was almost a *question*."

Tim smiles. "Really yes, Dick --"

"Come *here*. Because I'm pretty good at talking people down, too."

Tim raises an eyebrow --

And Dick gestures a -- double -- come-on. "I'm *incredible* at it when I'm too horny to actually think about what I'm saying and trip myself up. And I plan on being *exactly* that horny."

Tim -- takes a breath. "You're beautiful."

Dick raises his eyebrows. "Let me be beautiful *for* you."

And that -- it's difficult to breathe around his own heart --

The ache in his chest and *scrotum* --

The way Dick is staring at him with his *lips* parted --

His fantasy. His -- and it's safer that way. It's power he doesn't especially like to think about -- when it isn't Lex -- and it's room to be sexual, beautiful, desirable --

Tim moves close and turns around --

And Dick immediately spreads Tim and slips *between* --

"*Fuck* --"

"Ohn -- I *agree*, little brother. How *much* do you like it?"

"Ah -- a lot. Exceedingly --"

"Have you fantasized about me in --"

"A lot. *Exceedingly*."

Dick growls and yanks Tim back against him, cupping Tim's shoulders from the back and *thrusting* --

"*Dick* --"

"How does it feel, little brother?"

"Rough -- *hot* --"

"Do you *like* it?"

"*Yes*, Dick --"

"How often do you fuck yourself?"

"I -- " Tim swallows and shakes his head --

"All right, how often do you fuck yourself and think of *me*?"

"Oh -- God. I think of several different people --"

"Every time?"

Tim nods and pushes back against Dick --

Dick grunts and *shoves* himself against Tim's hole -- "Tim..."

"You. You're always there. At least for a few moments --"

"And Bruce?"

"Yes --"

"And -- Kon-El?"

Tim blushes --

"Ooh. Tell me *more*, little brother..."

"It's only --" Tim pants and shakes his head again. "*You* talk. *Please*."

"He *wants* you."

"I *know* --"

"He wants to give you what *you* want, Tim. *Anyone* can see that --"

"He's -- too young. Too good. Too -- fuck, *ow* --"

Dick *growls* against Tim's throat and bites *harder* --

"*Dick* --"

Dick licks the bitten spot, pants there -- "Do him, little brother."

"Ah."

"Fuck -- absolutely everyone you want."

"*Dick* --"

"Trust me. Just -- we *die*, Tim. We die, and we quit, and we go evil, and sometimes we manage to do all three. And there was a time when Jay was too young for me, and a time when Donna was too *good* for me --"

"Oh -- no --"

"*Yes*, Tim. God, we've been -- we've been so *lucky*. And it's obscene to say something like that while Jay is in the ground, but it's still *true*. Look at the Lanterns. Hell, look at the *Supers*. They keep losing Supergirls, and -- God, when we all thought we'd lost Clark..."

Tim shivers and pants. "I don't -- I just don't want to *hurt* him, Dick."

"Then be honest with him. *Tell* him about all of your other lovers, and all of your issues, and -- God, give him everything. Even -- even if you wind up giving him more than you give *me*."

"Oh. Dick --"

"I'm serious, little brother. I'm --" Dick laughs and starts to *grind* again --

"Oh -- oh, fuck --"

"I'm *jealous* of everyone who gets to have you, everyone who gets to *touch* you --"

"I'm sorry --"

"*No*," Dick says, and bites the other side of his throat --

Tim groans --

"God, I *need* you -- but I need you to feel this all the time, little brother, need to know that you won't make the same mistakes *I* made --"

"God -- fuck -- *Dick* --"

"*Right* here -- how's this?" And Dick grips Tim's penis with one hand and his *throat* with the other. He --

Tim moans and *shudders* --

Works his hips *helplessly* --

"Oh, little brother..." And Dick licks Tim's ear, his cheek, his ear *again*. "But I was gonna whisper in your ear," he says --

*Breathes* --

"I was gonna tell you all about... heh. You spend a lot of time with my dick in your mouth in my fantasies, little brother --"

"*Please* -- *hnk* --"

"Shh," Dick says, and *holds* the squeeze. "Just listen for a little while, all right? Nod for me."

Tim shudders and does just that --

He can feel himself *leaking* --

"Ohh... you're so *hot*, little brother. And you were hot back then, too. With the widest eyes I'd ever seen --"

Tim *tries* to shake his head --

"Jay's eyes were only wide for Bruce... just like yours were only wide for *me*," Dick says, and presses his smile against Tim's ear --

Tim shivers and works his hips *faster* --

"No, no. Slow down, little brother. Take it slow."

Tim opens his mouth --

And Dick squeezes *harder*, making Tim's tongue feel too large and his body feel -- tethered.

Tied *down* --

"Slow. Nod for me."

Tim does -- and forces himself to slow down. To just --

He closes his eyes and licks his lips again --

Dick sighs and starts to *stroke*. "You're so beautiful, little brother. So... you were all mine, and that *scared* me. But it didn't stop me from dreaming you onto your knees..."

Tim *wants* to groan for that --

Dick eases his grip and Tim does just that, shaking hard -- and pushing against Dick's hand -- "Oh... good boy," Dick says, and kisses Tim's ear again. "I'm gonna apologize right now for not doing the BDSM thing even close to right --"

"You don't have to --"

"No...? *Just* a little pain and breathplay is okay?"

Tim pants and -- "It's better than okay. A lot better," and Tim looks down --

"No, I need --" And Dick sighs and cups Tim's throat again. "I need you."

"Dick -- *nnk* --"

"I needed you then, too. I would get... everything you liked. Everything it even *looked* like you liked. All the DVDs and the candy and the sodas, the furniture from the same places your Dad shopped at..."

Fuck. *Fuck* --

Dick laughs quietly. "I was *obsessed*. And -- I didn't let anyone know. *Bruce* knew -- he's *Bruce* -- and *Roy* knew because he was there to listen when I needed to talk to someone about the dreams..." Dick sighs. "I needed you, and I didn't... most of the time I could push it down. Push it *aside*. Do you -- no, I know you get that."

Tim nods and tries to will Dick to stroke him faster -- no. He reaches down and covers Dick's hand, urging him --

"Oh... not yet, little brother. Nice and *slow*."

"Please," Tim mouths --

"Shh, it's okay. You know I'll take care of you, right?" And Dick thrusts against him four times *fast* -- "I'll take care of both of us."

Tim -- flushes. Tries to breathe --

Gives up and *writhes* --

"I want... will you fuck yourself for me one day?"

Tim nods *frantically* --

And Dick's penis twitches in his cleft. It's --

It may or may *not* be the single most arousing thing --

And Dick eases his grip on his throat --

Tim breathes and tries to focus, tries to --

He shouldn't be *doing* this --

He shouldn't -- Dick will *know*, and then there'll be nothing --

Nothing...

It's as pointless as it was last night. It -- the *bleatings* --

Tim cups Dick's choking hand and brings it to his mouth, kisses and licks --

"Oh, Tim... how do you do it? On your back? Your knees? Standing?"

"Standing -- when I'm in the shower. On my back when I want to think about Bruce. On my knees for you --"

"And everyone else?"

Tim shakes his head. "They all -- they all come anyway. I mean -- ah."

Dick sighs and pushes three fingers into Tim's mouth --

"*Mm* --"

"I want you so *much*. I --" Dick moans and licks the back of Tim's neck --

The sides of his throat --

Dick *fucks* Tim's mouth with his fingers --

In the same rhythm he's using in Tim's *cleft* --

Tim shudders and clenches, *twitches* --

Dick squeezes Tim's penis *hard* --

Tim cries out --

Dick pulls his fingers out -- "Tell me... fuck, I don't know. I want *everything*."

"I... specificity helps..."

Dick laughs and cups Tim's scrotum --

"Oh --"

"Yeah, little brother? Lean back a little -- God, yeah, like that," and Dick breathes hot against Tim's ear. "I want to fuck you really, really hard."

Tim closes his eyes and breathes -- "I want that, too."

"I want... Roy nearly got me to cope once."

"I... what does coping mean in this context?"

Dick presses another smile to his ear. "It means... he got me drunk enough that I didn't think of running away and *couldn't* think of a way to change the subject. He got me in a position *almost* like this -- he had me pinned to the bed on my stomach, and his *incredibly* exciting dick was nestled just like mine is --"

"Exciting -- oh. The... piercings you've mentioned."

"Specifically, at that moment, his frenum ladder and P.A.," and Dick *licks* Tim's ear and strokes him fast --

"*Fuck* --"

*Hard* --

"Dick -- *Dick* --"

And then Dick *stops* --

"*Please* --"

"*Is* that how you wanna come, little brother?"

"I -- maybe? I'm rapidly running out of *intellect*, Dick --"

"Then we'll return to the question *later*," Dick says, and strokes him slowly, *teasingly* -- "Don't squirm *too* much."

"I --"

"Here," and Dick grinds and pushes and *shoves*, making Tim feel every bit of the swelling around his hole --

Every bit of what a bad idea it would be to reach back and pull him *in* --

God, it would feel almost *soothing* -- until it didn't.

Until it made him scream and -- and *yowl* --

Tim lowers his head and breathes --

*Takes* it --

"Where was I...? Oh, yeah. He had me down. He had me... and he told me to think about doing the same thing to you. Wrestling you down and pinning you. *Holding* you down and not letting you move. Making you... take it."

Tim moans. "I -- ah."

"Yeah. This was... oh, about three months after Bruce took the cowl back, when seeing myself in the Nightwing uniform was still... a little startling. I said... something idiotic about not wanting to *frighten* you."

"You wouldn't have --"

"I *know*. And I knew it then, too. And *Roy* knew it, so he just laughed at me and kept talking. About your tough little hands, about your scars -- I'd told him exactly where they *were* -- "

"Oh -- ah. *Really*?"

"*Obsession*, little brother. You know how it works."

"But -- why did Roy *listen* to all of that? I mean -- no, all right, I'd listen to anything Steph wanted to tell me, but... ah. I'm not sure if I'd -- hm. I suppose I *would* remember if it seemed important to her. Ah -- never mind."

Another smile -- "He's also just a pervert, Tim. Me talking about you made *him* want you --"

"Oh. Ah. Hm." His *smile* --

His -- everything.

"I see..."

"And I *highly* recommend the experience --"

"So does Barbara --"

"So does *everyone* who's been there, and I..." Dick strokes Tim fast again --

*Hard* again -- "*Dick* --"

"C'mon, *move* --"

"*Nnh* -- I -- like this?" And Tim rocks, *bounces* --

"Oh -- *mm*. I could *kill* you for giving this to Luthor --"

"*Dick* --"

"I could -- Roy said he wouldn't do a thing until I'd had a chance with you."

"I -- I don't --"

"Know what to say to that? That's okay, neither did I. And I also didn't know what to say when he started repeating everything I'd told him about your... *formerly* tight little ass --"

Tim gasps and *snorts* -- "It wasn't that tight *then*, either -- *ohn* --"

And then he simply is on his stomach with his arms stretched over his head, wrists together --

Legs spread *wide* --

Tim turns his head and pants --

"Little brother..."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. "You... have my attention."

"By the time he started wondering aloud if you had any toys -- did you?"

"Yes. About... your size."

Dick groans and massages Tim's ass *roughly*.

"Dick --"

"By the time he started talking about toys and about you bending yourself in *half*... I was hard and *aching*. I was sweating. I was *panting*, because there you were all the way in Gotham and not where I could *touch* you. Not where I could *smell* you. All I could think about was how Bruce could take you away from me, too. It wouldn't even have to be on *purpose*. He could just take you, use you like a part of you was *begging* to be used --"

"Fuck. I -- I *was* --"

"I still want that, little brother. I still want to bend you over and *ride* you. I want to *share* you with Roy --"

"*Dick* --"

"I already know you *do* threesomes, little brother. And Roy... mm. Roy knows how to *treat* people who slip their tethers a little. Who... lose a little faith in the Mission."

"I haven't -- I still believe --"

"You just think it isn't for you...?" And Dick's smile is sharp and hot. "Maybe that you're not good enough...?"

Tim winces. "All right, I can see how Roy could be helpful for that sort of thing --"

"And many, many other sorts of things. But... he filled my mind with you, little brother. He made me remember every little detail I'd given him about you until I could almost taste you, almost *feel* you under me, almost hear you *moaning* for me. And then he started talking about how that two hour drive could be closer to an hour at that time of night -- an hour with my bike making me even harder, even *hungrier*."

"Oh -- God. Why didn't you *come*?"

Dick takes a shuddering breath and strokes Tim's back to either side of his spine. "Are you saying you would've let me --"

"*Yes* --"

"Even though you were in your *parents'* house?"

"God, *yes*, Dick, I -- I was always *lonely* there," Tim says, and feels himself blushing again, feeling --

He wants to *apologize* to his father --

He wants to be *haunted*, and just --

At least he could be *honest* with a ghost. Surely that counts for --

"*Dick* --"

"I don't get to lick you here, little brother?"

"I -- you know I'm... sensitive," Tim says, and blushes *harder* --

"Oh, I know, all right," Dick says, and strokes through the saliva he'd left at the small of Tim's back -- "I was counting on it."

Tim takes a deep breath and *thinks* -- "It's what kept you away. The fact that I wasn't in the manor, I mean."

Dick laughs quietly. "I'm telling myself -- the way I've told myself *dozens* of times -- that I would've found a different reason not to come if you were in the manor. Just to keep myself a little *sane*, you know?"

Tim winces and starts to turn over --

Dick stops him by the simple expedient of pinning Tim's shoulders again. *Hard*.

"I'll stay --"

"If you said that every day to every last one of us for every possible situation... I'd still be terrified of losing you. You -- I *need* you, little brother."

Tim closes his eyes and pants -- "You can have me."

Dick growls. "Tim."

"You can -- you can *have* me."

"Everything I want?"

"I -- not all at once --"

"But we can have this again, and again..." Dick moves and licks the base of Tim's spine again --

"*Fuck* --"

*Presses* with his tongue --

"*Dick* --"

"You always go a little crazy when I touch you here. I've always wondered if it was the potential. The fact that I *could* be touching you *here*," and Dick spreads Tim again -

"Please -- *nnh*. *Dick* --"

"Are you scolding me, little brother...? Is there something *wrong* with me needing to rim you out?"

Needing -- fuck. "Ah. This gets filed under 'everything you want?'"

"Oh, yes."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut -- no. "And... I don't get to shower first."

"Tim. I can still smell the soap you used last *night*."

"That's... better than I'd hoped."

"Mm-hm. The soap is better, too. Not too... uh. Soapy," and Dick laughs quietly, breathlessly --

"It... ah. Randomly appeared among my toiletries one day. After I had reamed myself thoroughly the night before."

"Reamed --" Dick takes a deep, shuddering breath and spreads Tim *wider*. "Tell me what that means."

Tim -- feels himself start to sweat. "I..."

"Tim, *tell* me --"

"First my fingers. Then -- ah. The you-sized toy --"

"Oh -- fuck. How hard?"

Tim *blushes* -- "Hard. I -- enough that I have to... make noise."

Dick grunts. "And -- you do that here."

"Yes."

"*Right* here."

"Yes --"

Dick growls and *bites* Tim's ass --

Tim *grunts* --

"The Bruce-sized toy after that?"

His face feels so *hot*, and surely at a certain point --

Surely there has to *be* a point where this sort of thing *stops* being wildly embarrassing --

But...

"Tim..."

That wouldn't be quite as *arousing*. That -- Tim licks his lips and turns to look at Dick from over his shoulder --

Dick shivers and *growls* again --

"Dick --"

"*Tell* me. I -- you know I need it, don't you?"

"It -- this is turning you on."

"Did you need to feel my dick again, little brother? 'cause we can *do* that."

Tim laughs. "No, it's just. You didn't *want* me --"

"I *did* --"

"You were *extremely* good at hiding that fact from yourself... and from me," and Tim raises an eyebrow.

Dick winces -- "You're still getting used to me."

"I -- yes. I mean. Lusting for you was one of the *first* things I tried to beat out of myself -- save, of course, for those times when I was alone with an appropriately-sized toy."

Dick winces *harder* -- "Roy tried to *tell* me --"

"You -- you can *have* me --"

"But I have to work for it?"

"No, I -- or. We both do? I." Tim swallows. "On nights when I ream myself... I take the you-sized toy out and... tease myself. With three fingers."

"Oh... that's teasing?"

"I can't get deep enough, so... yes." And Tim licks his lips again. "I can. I can make myself beg."

"Tim."

"I mean -- I have to beg. There's no. I don't even blush for it anymore. Even if I get... loud."

Dick groans -- "And *then* the Bruce-sized toy?"

Tim smiles and shakes his head --

"Jesus, little brother --"

"If I -- if I shove that in too fast, I'll come. And I never want to come at that point. I just -- I make myself wait. And force myself not to... clench too much --"

"How long?"

"Five minutes. Longer if I can stand it... but I usually can't stand it. I usually... by the time three minutes have passed, I'm usually jerking off the Bruce-sized toy --"

"Have you done that *with* Bruce yet?"

"No. Have you?"

Dick smiles and shakes his head. "I'll get in a few strokes, but I can't... I need him in me too badly."

Tim breathes and just -- "I -- know the feeling."

"How long are you going to need before you're healed-up?"

"I -- it shouldn't be long. Maybe a day or two."

"And for now... let me fuck you with my tongue, little brother."

Tim moans --

"Let me -- and then we can do anything you want --"

"Your fantasy. Please."

Dick narrows his eyes. "Everything I want."

"It's -- easier."

"Not hotter?"

Tim smiles ruefully -- and lets himself grind against the sheets. "That, too. I want. I want to think about you wanting me. Without feeling ashamed of myself for the wishful thinking."

"It's been --"

"Not long enough. Quite. Not against the *years* of knowing this would never happen."

Dick winces again and nods. "I wish. I wish you'd told me. Or just -- God. Invited me *into* your parents' house."

Tim shivers. "I -- so do I. Please --"

"Hands and knees, little brother."

"Fuck --"

"For me," Dick says, kneeling up and starting to stroke himself --

"I want. I want to watch *that* --"

"Ooh. We can do that. Though if you remind me too much of Babs, I'm gonna have to insist on getting paddled at least once."

Tim snorts -- but. "She doesn't use her bare hands for that?"

"That's only for when he's been a good boy," Barbara says -- through the voice-scrambler.

Tim *coughs*. "Ah. I take it that that doesn't happen very often."

Barbara hums -- and lengthens it to the point where Tim feels like his spine is vibrating --

He shudders -- and gets up on his hands and knees --

"Oh, little sister... mm."

Tim feels himself blushing *again*. He --

She --

*Which*?

"N-no, Barbara."

Barbara sighs -- without the scrambler. "All right, little sister... but keep me in mind. Out."

Tim shivers -- and lets himself writhe a little, grinding his hips and arching his spine --

"My turn, yet...?"

Tim nods -- and *grunts* for the feel of Dick spreading him again.

"I think -- and this is the only time I'm *ever* going to say this, so pay attention -- that you aren't experienced *enough*."

"I -- Dick?"

"You don't *know* if this --" And Dick *licks* him --

And even seeing it coming isn't enough to keep him from moaning --

"-- will make you come."

"I. I imagine --" No. He doesn't know. Tim shakes his head --

"Just let me know when you're close, little brother."

"I can -- oh. Oh, God --"

Dick *hums* --

Right -- there --

Tim groans and tries not to clench, not to --

But maybe Dick wants...?"

His tongue is so -- so *sleek* --

Wet and -- muscular --

*Wet* --

"*Dick* --"

And Tim feels himself flushing all over, feels his skin *immediately* starting to prickle with sweat --

And Dick is licking -- just --

Around and *around* Tim's hole --

It should be *ticklish* --

"*Please* --"

It's not ticklish. It's. It's not --

Tim hangs his head and pants --

And spreads his legs wider. He --

God, he knows what he *looks* like --

What it looks like he *wants* -- "*Nuh* -- *Dick* --"

Another hum, and Dick is using the flat of his tongue --

Dick is shoving *in* -- "*Ohn* --"

Over and --

No, he's out again and *sucking* at the swelling, and Tim can't keep himself from crying out --

From shoving *back* -- no, wait, he can't --

He holds himself *still* --

And Dick pulls back with a *slurp* --

"*Please* --"

"Not that, little brother. Or -- no, definitely beg. I *like* the begging --"

"Please. Please --"

"More?"

Tim nods and swallows, spreads himself wider --

"Oh -- that's inspiring. But it's easier for me if your ass is a little higher -- just like that," Dick says, and *slaps* Tim's ass --

"*Nnh* --"

"Ooh. I --" And Dick spanks him several times *rapidly* --

He'd done this with Lex, but -- not naked. Not --

"Do you like it, little brother?"

Tim nods again, pants and tries --

But *how* can he beg for Dick's tongue again? How -- those words won't actually come out of his --

"*Fuck* me!"

And Dick growls and spanks Tim's scrotum *again* --

"Oh, God --"

*Again* --

"*Dick* --"

"*I* like this, too, little brother. Partly because Babs always goes bare-handed for it... and partly because it hurts *just* right," Dick says, and *grips* Tim's scrotum --

"Please -- *please* --"

"Do you want my tongue again?"

"I -- ah."

Dick laughs quietly. "It's hard to ask for, isn't it."

Tim blushes *hard*, squeezing his eyes shut --

Dick *pumps* Tim's scrotum --

"Fuck -- *Dick* --"

"It's hard for *me* to ask for it from *Clark* -- and he does it almost every chance I *give* him."

Tim looks at the door --

He *knows* Dick is looking, too -- and Dick laughs. "You have to let him, little brother. You -- his tongue was my other *religion* for a while."

"Other -- oh. I." Tim licks his lips. "The rimming felt... very, very good --"

"Do you want *more* of it?"

Tim shivers -- "Perhaps -- ah. If there could be somewhat less... choice."

Dick *pants* -- "Tim."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut again --

It's just that Dick is so good, that he's *always* been so good --

It's just that there's nothing *like* being *rolled* over to make one feel -- wanted.

It -- no -- "I'm sorry. It's okay. I do --"

"Down on your elbows. *Now*."

Fuck -- Tim drops --

"No -- on your *cheek*."

Tim *yanks* his hands behind his back, crossing his wrists --

"Do you give *this* to Luthor?"

"No --"

"Not yet?"

"I --"

"That's a yes. Oh... little brother. I'm the most jealous person in the *family*, so maybe -- maybe you're right to *avoid* me --"

"Dick, *no* --"

"But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not -- I *won't* stop pushing you," Dick says, spreading Tim's ass and licking a *stripe* along Tim's cleft -- "God, I need you so *much*," and he stabs *in* --

"Dick --"

Over and --

Over and over --

"Dick, *please* --"

"It's the only way I *can* fuck you today -- God, *please*," and he's in again --

Filling Tim -- no, not that, but the *feel* of it --

Soothing and hot at once --

Slick and *heavy* --

Tim groans and feels himself flushing darker, feels himself *leaking* --

And Dick pants against him, slurs something incomprehensible --

"Please --"

And then he's fucking Tim faster, shoving in and in -

Not *stopping* -- "Dick, I need -- I need *more* -- "

Dick growls and pulls out --

"*Please* --"

But then he's sucking and nibbling at Tim's scrotum, licking and --

God, taking the whole thing in his *mouth* --

So good, so warm and --

Tim shudders and tries to spread, to work himself --

And then he's shouting, because Dick shoves his tongue back *in* --

Dick growls and *fucks* him that way --

"Dick -- *Dick*!"

Dick moans and grips Tim's hips -- and that's what tells Tim that he'd been moving, shoving himself back for more --

He needs *more* --

But he still has to scream when Dick starts stroking his penis again, starts -- fuck, *working* him --

So hard so tight --

"*Please*, Dick!"

Dick hums and strokes faster --

*Faster* --

And Tim couldn't stop moving if he tried, couldn't --

He needs --

Just one more *minute* of this -- wait. "*Close*, Dick -- *fuck* -- "

He's on his back --

He's on his back and his ass is wet and Dick is swallowing him, swallowing again and again -- "Oh, *God* --"

Dick is *pressing* on Tim's hole --

"Ohn -- *God* --" And Tim groans and tosses his head, *arches* --

Dick squeezes Tim's hip, but he can't *hold* Tim with one hand --

Bruce can. Bruce --

He could have his fantasy. He could -- one and then the other, and they would *both* enjoy watching Tim fuck himself in between --

*Tease* himself --

Tim growls and *thrusts* --

And when he opens his eyes, Dick is staring at him, into him --

Dick is *urging* --

Tim cries out --

Shudders --

And then he can't *stop* thrusting, because Dick is sucking so hard --

Dick is moaning and pressing on Tim's prostate through his perineum --

"Fuck -- *Dick* -- oh, God, I --" And Tim growls and beats at the bed --

Sits up and *cups* Dick's head --

His hair has always been so --

And then Tim's *screaming*, because Dick is scraping his teeth just like Steph had done --

He's been in Steph's mouth --

Her *vagina* --

Dick is moving oddly -- no. Dick is *thrusting* against the bed because this is turning him on that much --

Dick *needs* him, and there's only one answer to that, one way to *exist* --

Tim *grips* Dick's hair and growls, *grinding* in and in --

Panting and *keening* --

He can't stop --

He *won't* --

*He* -- "Dick, I *love* -- ohn -- *ohn* --" And his first and only thought is that there wasn't *enough* warning --

Not enough to let him do anything but scream and *fuck* his way in as he comes --

As he shudders and screams and *comes* --

He can't feel anything but *worked* for this, used and --

Dick is pumping Tim's scrotum in the same rhythm as his *sucks* --

Tim screams *again* -- but he can feel himself coming down, feel himself needing to whimper more than shout --

And he's in his own body again, panting and -- well, that was more of a growl than a whimper --

Dick *stares* at him --

And Tim unwinds his fingers from Dick's hair. "I don't suppose you'd fuck *my* throat...?"

Dick narrows his eyes -- and pulls off slowly, licking his swollen, reddened lips -- "My fantasy?"

"God, yes --"

"Stay right there," Dick says -- "No. Get up on your knees."

Tim does. "Will you stand --"

"Not yet," and Dick's smile is hard, *pained* -- "God, I -- touch me. Just -- stroke me a little."

Tim shivers. "Are you --"

"I'm sure," Dick says, and pushes a hand back through his hair. "Stroke me... and tell me true things. *Please*."

Tim opens his mouth to ask *what* -- but he doesn't really have to, at this point. His family -- *all* of his family -- wants the same things --

He can give *some* of those things --

Just as easily as he can push close to Dick's side and wrap his right hand around him, his *heat* --

Dick moans --

"Dick, you're so... I needed you. I fell in love with you when I was three and I just -- never stopped," Tim says, and starts to stroke --

"Not -- you don't have to --"

"I really do. I've always wanted to be honest with you --"

Dick gasps a *laugh* --

"Hn. All right, let me try again: I've always wanted to be *able* to be honest with you," and Tim squeezes Dick experimentally --

Dick grips Tim's wrist --

"No?"

"Too -- I'll come too fast," Dick says, licking his lips and staring at Tim *hotly*. "Be honest with me all the time, little brother. Tell me -- fuck, *everything*."

"Would you... I almost never think about you playing with my breasts --"

"I would. I would -- I *love* breasts, little brother --"

"Mine --" Tim swallows and *wills* himself not to stroke faster, not to squeeze again -- he shakes his head. "I've thought about you fucking them --"

Dick grunts -- "I do -- I've done that with exactly two people. It drives me *crazy*, little brother --"

Tim pants. "With... Barbara?"

Dick nods and licks his lips. "I got close so fast -- I stopped and shoved it in her pussy instead --"

"I want -- never mind --"

Dick laughs and stares at him. "Do I let that go, little brother?"

"I... I don't want to lose my penis. Even though I'd vastly enjoy having a vagina."

Dick moans -- "Oh, little brother. I think *I'd* have to start torturing people on the street if you were giving a *pussy* to Luthor -- *yow* -- okay, *okay*, Babs -- *gah* --"

And the small, neat scar at the base of Dick's spine is... glowing. Oracle-green. That is... new.

Tim touches Dick there --

"*Hnh* -- oh, fuck -- oh, fuck, ow, wait --"

Tim pauses --

Dick groans and stares at *nothing* --

For two solid minutes --

Hm. "Barbara...?"

She hums. "We're working on Dick's gender issues."

"That's... hm. I don't suppose I could request --"

"That we do this later, little sister...? You *could*... but really, this is for *your* benefit, too."

And that's... true.

It's the kind of true that makes him --

"Thank you."

Barbara's sigh is warm. "You're very, very welcome. Touch his implant again."

Tim does --

Dick shouts, penis twitching *vigorously* --

"What all does this *do*?"

"*Mostly* it tells him when to turn his comm on -- and when to watch his back. The other things... well. I promise to tell you *all* about it just as soon as you let me give *you* one."

Tim coughs. "Ah... I think... not."

"You know, little sister, all this rejection is going to give me a complex."

Tim *snorts*. "Barbara."

"What's that sound we *both* like to make so much? 'Hn?'"

"It does get the point across --"

"Where the point is *vicious* amusement, yes. Honestly, Tim, I haven't had to work this hard to get someone into bed... ever."

"Enjoy the novelty," Tim says, and taps 'mine now' in Morse over the implant --

"*Really*."

Tim smiles for the nearest camera. "Just checking...?"

"You were not... but your point is made," and she does *something* which makes the implant stop glowing --

Dick gasps and straightens, penis twitching *harder* --

"Are you ready to behave now, Sexist Wonder?"

Dick *pants* -- "I. I. Yes? I'm gonna say yes."

"One more time...?"

"*Yes*, Babs, *Jesus*."

And Barbara laughs, low and soft and *sweet* -- "Out."

Dick shivers and grips himself, squeezing *hard* --

And Tim strokes down Dick's abdomen before scratching *up* --

"Oh -- little brother..."

"All right...?"

Dick laughs and wipes sweat from his forehead before licking it off his hand --

Tim leans in to help --

"Oh -- ooh. I'm definitely all right. I'm also definitely thinking of your tongue other *places* --"

Tim hums and sucks Dick's knuckles --

And Dick pulls Tim into a kiss, salty and tangy -- and gamy with the taste of Tim's own semen.

Tim moans and licks, coaxes Dick's tongue into his mouth --

Knocks Dick's hand aside and starts to stroke again, to hold and tease again --

Dick shudders and groans --

Holds Tim's head *still* --

And fucks Tim's mouth and fist in the same rhythm, same --

Tim moans more and presses closer, willing his penis to leave him alone enough that he can make this good, make it *right* --

But Dick would prefer it if Tim lost a little control --

Perhaps *more* than a little --

Tim pulls back and nips Dick's lip, and his jaw, and his *throat* --

"Fuck -- God, Tim --"

"Mm-hm..."

"No, no, wait, you were *talking*," and Dick tugs Tim back by the hair. "*Please* keep talking --"

"I'd rather suck you --"

Dick shudders and makes Tim squeeze him --

"Oh, Dick..."

"Nnh -- *nnh* -- please, just -- a few more minutes? I need your *voice*."

"My -- *that's* arousing?"

"It's *you*. Saying *things*," Dick says, and laughs breathlessly before smiling at him with so much warmth, so much --

"I love you --"

"I love you, too. I want -- God, I want you every *day*. I never get to *have* anyone like that --"

"Dick --"

"*You* talk. *Please*," and Dick -- won't let him stroke. There's a plea in his *eyes* --

"Right. I..." Tim licks his lips. "We slept together twenty-three times during No Man's Land --"

"You counted -- God, fuck, of course you did," and Dick kisses him again --

*Again*, and it's wet, hot, *hard* --

He pulls back. "Tell me --"

"Every time. Every time -- I wanted to suck you. I wanted you to fuck me, of course, but I *mostly* wanted you in my mouth --"

Dick moans - "I wanted the same *thing*. After a *shower* --"

"I've always loved the way you smell --"

"I smelled like a *goat*, little brother --"

Tim snorts. "A very *attractive* goat -- ah. I wanted to lick you, to -- to nibble on your foreskin --"

Dick grunts and arches --

"Oh, Dick --"

"More. *More* --"

"I wanted you to hold my head down -- *let* me --"

"No, please --" And Dick *tosses* his head more than he shakes it --

Tim *strains* against his hold --

"Oh, *fuck*, little brother --"

"Dick, I *need* you --"

"*Down*," and that was *almost* the Nightwing voice --

Nightwing never sounds that hungry for anything but *blood* --

And Robin should -- possibly -- avoid sounding *this* hungry for any penis but Batman's -- no, that's ridiculous --

Tim sucks and groans --

Sucks and hums --

Sucks and pushes Dick's hand *away* so he can *swallow* --

"*Tim* -- oh, *God* --"

Tim nods and works his tongue against Dick's shaft --

"You -- do you like --"

Tim nods *more* --

And Dick groans and strokes over and over Tim's hair, tugging at it -- "Your hair should be *longer* --"

Tim shakes his head *vehemently* --

"Will you -- a butch girl? Woman!"

Tim raises an eyebrow and scrapes his teeth --

"Fuck -- no, not that --"

Tim pulls off and grips Dick's penis --

"*Please* --"

"Sorry. But -- your foreskin?"

Dick pants and stares at him *desperately* --

"No more asking?"

Dick nods and *tugs* on Tim's head --

So Tim nibbles *gently* on Dick's foreskin --

Sucks at it and licks up to the head -- just in time to catch pre-come on his tongue and tug it away in something like a rope --

Steph's *gum* -- no, not now, not --

"Little -- little *brother* --"

Tim nods and darts in to suck the head, to taste Dick so -- so *thick*, so sharp and drugging at once --

Dick doesn't eat *healthily* all the time --

Dick tastes so -- human? Not that. All of his lovers, so far, are human.

'Male' is closer to it, because there's something about Dick's taste which *feels* more like what Tim always imagined fellatio would be like --

What sucking *cock* would be like --

Lex was so *mild*, so --

Tim shakes his head and swallows Dick again --

"Ohn -- oh, *yes*, little brother --"

He works himself on Dick's penis and gestures more, forward, *come on* --

"I don't -- I know what you *want* --"

Need, Dick, I *need* you -- and Tim doesn't bare his teeth again --

That's a reflex he's going to have to work on --

"You -- oh, you feel so good, so *right* --"

Tim swallows, and does it repeatedly on every down-thrust --

"*Nnh* -- I love you, I love you, I wish I'd loved you right *away* --"

Tim shakes his head --

"God, don't -- you needed *me*, and I --" Dick growls and cups the sides of Tim's head -- "Roy tried to *tell* me..."

Please, Dick, *please*, and Tim fights against Dick's thankfully *light* grip to keep working his head, keep *fucking* himself --

"Fuck -- fuck, *with* me," Dick says, pulling out *most* of the way and holding Tim's head *still* --

And then thrusting *as* he pulls --

Yes --

God, yes, because it's an easy rhythm to catch and keep --

It gives him more and *more* of Dick --

It feels like he's getting deeper with every *thrust* --

"I love -- I love you --"

*You* --

"Oh -- God, tell me, tell me this is *good* --"

Tim nods as vehemently as he'd shaken his head before --

And Dick moans --

His hands *shake* --

"I can't -- I can't keep this --" And Dick growls and tightens his grip, holding Tim still again -- "Little *brother* --"

Yes -- *please* --

"I'm so -- I'm so sorry -- nnh -- *nnh* *nnh* --"

Hard thrusts, *fast* thrusts, and Dick is --

Dick is fucking his *mouth* --

Dick wants him --

Dick wants him every *day* --

And Tim can't keep meeting Dick's eyes, can't --

Tim's eyes roll back in his *head* --

"Oh -- oh, *God*, little brother, I -- *fuck* --"

And Dick *slams* in --

Dick cries out, wordless and *high* --

And then he's coming in Tim's throat, one warm spatter after another --

Tim tries to pulls *back* --

"Need -- oh, *God* --" And Dick lets go enough that Tim *can* pull back and catch the last few spatters on his tongue --

Tim hums and grips Dick's *hips* --

Bone poetry --

"Tim -- love --" Dick shudders and pets him with shaking hands --

Cups the back of Tim's neck and his shoulder --

Squeezes *hard* --

Tim grunts and *sucks* hard --

And Dick groans and pets Tim again -- somewhat more frantically this time. "I need... uh. Something?" And Dick laughs and *scratches* the back of Tim's neck.

"Hmm?"

"God, Tim, that was -- okay, no, pull off."

Tim does, kneeling up and licking his lips.

Dick narrows his eyes and moans -- and kisses Tim hard and affectionately -- no. *Lovingly*. He makes love to Tim's mouth and pets Tim everywhere else --

Including a slow and *hot* stroke for Tim's penis that makes Tim *jerk* --

And Dick drops them, pinning Tim for a moment before going back to kissing and petting --

Tim turns out of the kiss to *breathe* --

Dick kisses his cheek and throat --

Licks the bruises there and then up to Tim's ear -- "Tim..."

Tim pants and closes his eyes. And smiles. "Dick."

"Ooh. You're happy?"

Tim bites his lip and checks himself *cautiously* --

No screaming --

No bleating --

An increasing need to call Lex and then *eat* something --

Something other than the entirely delicious semen he can't, actually, live on --

"You have to think about it?"

Tim raises a hand and continues to think about it --

"Is this -- are you about to freak out? Should I have been more gentle --"

"Oh -- no, Dick. It's just -- ah. I've been *surprising* myself with my capacity to think idiotic and useless things --"

"And -- Bruce is *positive* that your gauntlet is a part of *why* you've been freaking out so much -- you never *told* me about that --"

"He... convinced me that one of the Gotham operatives would turn against the Mission soon, and that, ten years in the future, the city and some unknown portion of the world would be the worse for it."

"*How*?"

"Holograms, gas, and Alfred being very, very good with latex and makeup." Tim shakes his head. "The gauntlet, such as it was, was to figure out *which* operative had lost the thread so dramatically -- and it was very dramatic -- so that the threat could be neutralized before it was too late."

"Wait."

"I'm waiting," Tim says, rolling onto his back and rubbing the hinge of his jaw --

Dick *immediately* straddles him and starts giving him facial massage --

"Oh -- unnecessary, but I'm never actually going to say no to this."

"Good to know. I -- he made you figure out which one of us would go evil."

"Yes."

"And -- how it would happen?"

Tim waves a hand. "I added that task myself, in order to make it easier to do the former."

Dick looks horrified --

"Steph felt the same."

"Just -- who *was* it? I mean, obviously, none of us --"

"I made... something of a manifesto. For every last one of you."

Dick's jaw drops --

"Except for Steph. I couldn't see her going that way no matter how much I pushed and prodded and manipulated the data."

"Data -- *Tim*!"

"It was, in a lot of ways, when I started to think of myself as... someone other than Robin. Because I knew I would follow you or Barbara if you ever... well."

"We *won't*!"

"I'm flattered. Don't let Dick break Bruce's nose -- I need him tonight."

"Noted," Tim says, and catches Dick's wrist before he can get off the bed. "Come back, please."

"I'm just -- I need to *talk* to Bruce --"

"I've spoken to him. And about him. And I've forgiven him --"

"Tim, he messed with your *mind* --"

"He needed to know I wouldn't ever trust someone so much that they could hurt the Mission. Which was a lesson I believe you've had cause to wish *he'd* learned sooner," and Tim raises an eyebrow.

Dick -- winces --

Growls --

"And -- God, that asshole is out *again* --"

"Yes."

"Who *knows* what he'll do --"

"Likely not even him," Tim says, and tugs until Dick crawls in next to him again. 

Dick covers his face with his hands and sighs.

Tim considers -- then rolls on his side and rests his hand on Dick's abdomen.

"Oh -- God, yeah, I really need to give Steph about seventy screaming orgasms for teaching you how to cuddle."

Tim snorts. "Ask her. She may very well be amenable."

"She *does* get a certain look on her face when I'm giving her capoeira lessons, now that you mention it."

"Dick, eighty-five-year-old monks who've had their prostates removed would get 'a certain look' for that."

"*You* never got that look. You never -- you looked like you were in love with me *infinitely* more often than you looked turned-on," Dick says, and moves his hands to frown at Tim.

"I never saw the point in hiding love. Lust, now... well. I was motivated."

Dick's frown becomes more severe and he prods at Tim's nose. "Don't do that."

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Lust at *everyone*. Because they don't *know* that you're hot for them -- *I* don't know who you're hot for -- and if they *do* know they might put *out*."

"I don't *want* -- ah. Hm."

Dick raises *both* of his eyebrows.

And that --

Well, he *doesn't* -- except.

And the fact that he's thinking about *Bart* right now --

And how *incredible* he looks in his Kid Flash uniform --

The way his *eyes* have changed from Impulse's to something... a little darker. A little more promising. A little more --

Inviting. Just --

"Are you gonna tell me who *that* is?"

"Bart," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "Otherwise known as the only male of the species I've ever wanted to sexually dominate."

Dick stares at him.

"That's weird. That's weird?"

"He's -- three years old."

"So is *Kon*, Dick."

"Kon *acts* like a teenager --"

"So does Bart -- now," Tim says, and strokes a path down between Dick's abs. "Kid Flash is a rather different entity than Impulse."

"I -- it's not that I don't *believe* you --"

"But Impulse casts a long shadow. I know. Trust me that he doesn't for *me*."

"Weren't you kind of his *father* figure?"

"*No*, Dick --"

"Oh, thank God --"

"I was his mother figure."

Dick -- looks pained. Well --

Tim is willing to let him get away with that. "Hn. I'm reasonably sure I'm not anymore."

"'Reasonably.'"

"Yes. There's no real percentage in trying to predict the twists and turns of Bart's mind for anything but the *most* fundamental things. There never has been."

"*Bart* is who you're going with for why you're not gonna fight me on spreading your -- everything."

"Yes."

Dick pokes Tim's nose again. Repeatedly.

Tim flares his nostrils. "Dick."

"Are you about to kick me out?"

"I... hm. I do have a phone call to make."

"To your supervillain boyfriend."

"He's -- I -- yes."

Dick frowns again. "He makes love to you."

"Yes."

"He really -- you can feel it?"

"Ah -- all through me. Actually."

"Are you already in love with him?"

"No."

"Are you *sure*."

"*Yes*, Dick. It -- it doesn't feel the same way..." Tim shakes his head. "I'm not about to drop everything and follow him every*where*. I haven't suddenly developed an interest in business and mad science. I don't want to wear any more purple than I have to for various missions --"

"Tim --"

"*Dick* --"

"*Tim*. I -- all right, I *can* understand you not figuring this out, yet, but -- being in love with someone doesn't automatically mean that you're ready to devote your lives to them and their beliefs."

"I --" Know that. He --

Tim frowns.

Dick smiles ruefully and *strokes* Tim's nose --

"I'm not -- I'm not."

"Do you worry about him being hurt?"

"Yes --"

"Emotionally, too?"

"Yes, but --"

"Do you smile when you think about him?"

"Dick --"

Dick puts two fingers on Tim's mouth and *looks* at him. "Do you feel like more of yourself when you're with him than you do without him?"

Tim -- frowns again. "That's -- that's true about --"

"Everyone you're in love with?"

"Oh -- fuck."

Dick snorts and lies back down, pinching the bridge of his --

"I really -- your nose is incredibly sexy. I've always wanted to say that --"

"And now's a good time to distract me...?" And Dick turns to smile at him wryly.

"I... fuck."

"*Very* well."

"Dick --"

"Back at Haly's, when being the Boy Wonder meant only *one* thing, we used to get... oh, just -- perverts. Perverts on *top* of perverts in every city we visited."

Tim blinks. "Oh... yes?"

"Mm-hm. I mean, we were asking for it in some ways. Pretty much *all* the promotional posters had at least one photo of me in tight, tight clothes beaming my head off. It made my Mom worried as *hell*."

"But not your father?"

And Dick's smile is -- wide. Wet. *Sharp*. "Dad and his friends and I had a little game. I would wander the fairgrounds -- we always had a fair with us those last few years, because it was the only way to make money before circuses got big again -- in tight jeans and a tighter t-shirt, or even less than that, and play bait."

"Ah... bait? For the pedophiles?"

"Mm-hm. And I would lure them somewhere quiet -- somewhere *away* from the *other* punters -- and then we would fall on the guy like wolves. We almost never *robbed* him -- unless he was asking for it -- but... heh. I didn't learn *everything* about being mean to much, much larger people from Bruce."

"Oh, my. Ah...?"

Dick snickers. "Oh, yeah. *Why* I'm telling you this now..." Dick sighs. "Well, for one thing, every time I look at a picture of Luthor, I think of this one *prize* from outside Kansas City who had a head like a badly-peeled boiled egg, liver lips, and moist, pudgy fingers. He told me my nose made me look 'interestingly ethnic,' and made *great* noises once he stopped vomiting from the pain."

"Eugh. Dick."

"I know, I know. *Your* bald-headed pervert is *much* more handsome than that and *never* pukes when he gets kicked in the jewels," and Dick sticks his tongue out. "The *other* reason I bring it up... I don't know. I was a really *young* kid when Bruce picked me up. You and Jay and Steph were all *ancient* at thirteen compared to me -- or so I thought. Well, no, I *still* think that about Jay and Steph. You, though..."

"I'm... immature?"

Dick pinches his fingers together. "You've kind of spent the last few years letting in a *little* light and life, but bolting the door against all the rest. *You're* never going to cry confused tears when you stumble across a serial child-killer with Bruce -- you understand everything there *is* to understand about that kind of thing -- but... the other stuff. Do you know what I'm saying, little brother?"

Tim... looks at the sheets. He thinks of his mother, and the scratch of her perfect nails on his scalp as he performed the way he was supposed to for this businessman or that reporter.

He thinks of the scent of Thebes -- her traveling perfume -- and the way that, even now, it makes him feel lonely and distinctly superfluous.

He thinks of Dick holding him, and smiling at him, and kissing the top of his head --

And then he thinks of all the times *after* that when his mother had pushed him away --

Or *patted* his head --

("Tim, *really*. Don't you have something you can play with...? Jack, where's Luz?")

He --

"Tim...? Are you all right?"

"Ah... yes? Yes," Tim says, and looks up to smile at Dick, knowing it looks painful on his face. "I... missed a lot. As a child, I mean. Or -- no. I missed a lot until I had you and Steph in my life. And -- I can see what you're saying. Some things still blindside me. Ah -- obviously."

"You said -- you said you were always lonely with your parents --" Dick shakes his head. "I just let that flow right past me and my *dick* --"

"It's okay --"

"It's *not*, because you never -- God, come *here*," and Dick pulls Tim into a hug --

Rolls them until he's pinning Tim again --

Kisses Tim all over his *face* -- "I love you so much. And I never... I never let myself think about how much you had to lie to your parents, because I never would've been able to manage the same thing. I think I'm starting to get how *you* managed it, though."

"I feel guilty for all the lies. I -- even knowing they were necessary, even knowing *I* was necessary on the street..." Tim smiles ruefully. "A part of me was relieved when my father figured it out. And that lasted right up until our relationship failed to get any better, or even more honest."

Dick winces. "I'm so sorry, little brother --"

"He wasn't -- he wasn't a bad *man* --"

"No, I know --"

"He didn't *abuse* me or --" Tim squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head against the pillow -- no. He opens his eyes. "I have issues. I'm working on them. Right now, even."

Dick nods and bites his lip. "Bruce said you're going to let him adopt you."

"I -- yes. Eventually."

"You know it'll take no time, at all --"

"I know --"

"God, no one even really asks *questions*. It would be different if you were fifteen, but you're seventeen --"

"Yes, I -- I don't want to put that particular nail in my father's coffin just yet."

"I'm -- your mother wasn't any better, was she?"

*Tim* winces --

"Okay, that's an answer --"

"Don't -- please don't talk that way about them --"

"I'm sorry. I'm -- I won't."

Tim swallows and nods. "Thank you."

"I'm really --" Dick kneels up into a straddle of Tim's hips, and the brush of his scrotum against Tim's penis is enough to make Tim *twitch* -- "Ooh --"

"Ah -- no. Not right now. Please."

"Okay, now I'm even *more* mad at your parents --"

"Dick --"

"Uh. That was a joke?" And Dick's smile isn't actually *horrific*, but it comes close.

Tim snorts and raises an eyebrow --

And Dick's smile gets much, much better. Softer, warmer --

"I love you."

"Did your parents ever --"

"They said it. Let's... not explore that? Please."

Dick squeezes his eyes shut. "Okay. I -- am I allowed to bitch about them to other people?"

"I'm... you want to?"

"A *lot*, little brother," and Dick strokes the bridge of Tim's nose again. "And -- I'm kinda thinking the family should compare notes on this one."

Tim -- winces. Again.

"Oh -- look at it this way: If we *do* compare notes? You don't have to repeat yourself."

"Oh, yes, because I really need *all* of you looking at me funny if I ever point out that sometimes I *miss* them."

"*Tim*. There's nothing -- all right, will you trust me when I say that that won't happen?"

"I -- should I?"

"*Yes*. Because I -- this is one of those things you just missed, I'm guessing. Everyone misses their loved ones when they die. That's just -- that's how it works --"

"I *know* that, Dick --"

"And so do *we*. We might think you're better off without them -- we might *know* that in our *bones* -- but we also know that you can't change a damned thing about who you love or how you love them. That's -- well, that's something else you might've missed...?"

Tim -- closes his eyes. And breathes.

And --

"Lex... Lex tries to get me to talk about these... things." Tim opens his eyes again --

And Dick is raising his eyebrows. "Does he succeed?"

"To a certain extent," Tim says, and smiles ruefully again. "I'm reasonably sure that a part of him would like to go back and steal me from my mother."

"Not... both of your parents?"

Tim waves a hand. "My mother was the primary parent in our household until her death. She made all of the major -- and most of the minor -- decisions about how I would be raised, what I would be taught, what topics I would study... et cetera. Lex knew that."

Dick blinks. "He was *friends* with your *parents*?"

"Hardly. He and my mother were in preliminary and *mostly* casual meetings during which they sized each other up and made tentative plans to work together in the future. I knew my mother had been *considering* working with LexCorp, but not quite how much... well. They had dossiers on each other. Later, my father called Lex for advice about how to get me out of Gotham during No Man's Land."

Dick *snorts* -- and coughs. "I... I gotta admit, little brother, it was *hilarious* to see you all over the news."

Tim flips Dick off.

"God, though -- it's just *like* Luthor to play games with the media. I can't believe I didn't think --" Dick shakes himself like a dog. "Okay. I -- have you thought about it?"

"'It'?"

"What it would've been like to -- I don't know. 'Lex Luthor needs a henchman?'"

Tim stares at Dick.

"Yes? No? Maybe?"

"Dick. I imprinted on *you*."

"I know, I know, but I wasn't the *only* one in your heart by the time you came to us, and you *have* fallen for him kind of embarrassingly fast --"

"*Dick* --"

"*You*... were even easier when you were thirteen."

"I --"

"Are you seriously about to argue that, little brother?"

Tim -- well, that may actually be a scowl. He fixes that --

Dick is *laughing* at him --

"It wouldn't have happened."

"Okay."

"It *wouldn't* have *happened*, Dick!"

"Hee hee --" Dick coughs again, bites his lip. "I just -- I think this is where I admit to being a wee little bit creeped-out by you at first."

"I -- noticed," Tim says, and does his best not to frown.

Dick sighs and strokes Tim's mouth. "Roy -- and Donna, and Gar, and Vic, and Raven -- pointed out that you were pretty much *just* like how they all imagined Bruce was as a kid, which, at that point, wasn't as helpful as it could've been. I wish you'd come to the Tower every day, little brother. I wish you'd *shoved* yourself into my life --"

"I -- I couldn't have done that."

Dick frowns and nods. "I know. I still -- I would've gotten over myself quickly. I promise. I mean -- you know that about me now, don't you?"

Tim -- breathes. "I do, yes."

Dick *presses* on Tim's mouth --

Tim kisses his fingers --

And Dick smiles, bright and quick and wide -- "I love you."

"I love you, too. Please don't picture me prancing around in green and purple tights as I shoot at people."

Dick snickers *more* --

And Tim lets his expression get pinched. Very --

"Gah! Don't do that!"

Tim does his best to channel his paternal grandfather --

During those times when Tim had tried and failed to have a conversation with him --

"Tim --"

*While* his mother was in the room --

"How does that not hurt your *face*?"

Constant, chronic pain *would* explain the man's attitude problems. *Some* of them --

And now Dick is trying to un-pinch Tim face by force. It feels a bit like being made out of Sculptee --

And that brings *Bruce's* rubber face to mind --

"*Gah*, stop getting *worse*!"

("*Tommy*, you *scamp*!")

Tim -- snorts. And relaxes his face.

Dick sighs in relief and gives Tim more facial massage. "Don't *do* that anymore, little brother!"

"It got you to stop writing me into Metropolis --"

"Yes, but now I'm doing it *again* --"

"*Dick* --"

Dick winks at him. "It's really just my paranoia and jealousy, little brother. A part of me I don't like very much has been whining *constantly* about you having the gall to fall in love with someone other than me."

Tim -- blinks.

"I *am * the jealous one in the family. You know that."

"Yes, but --"

"You didn't think it went that far down? *Really*?"

"I... might've written your manifesto somewhat differently if I had."

Dick raises his eyebrows and *strokes* Tim's face. "Even easier to make me go evil?"

"I -- the changes needed..." Tim hums and considers it. 'An end to circuses,' yes, but what else? What would've happened if Bruce had rejected Dick again? Barbara?

Himself...?

Dick shifts and moves, scooting back enough that he can lean in and kiss Tim softly. "It won't happen."

"I --"

"It won't happen. Even *if* every last one of you turns your back on me -- I'll still be myself."

Will you? And Tim *wants* to erase that question from his eyes --

But he's not fast enough. Dick smiles ruefully. "He did a number on you."

"I -- he couldn't have done it without my eager assistance."

"And you *really* don't want me to hit him."

"The thought had occurred --"

"How did Steph avoid doing it?"

"I believe she's found a great deal of satisfaction in torturing him in other ways --"

"Ways I can't manage?"

"Not -- that I've seen. Dick --"

Dick kisses him again. "You trust me enough to love me. That's good enough for me."

Tim frowns. "How?"

"Because, little brother," Dick says, moving off the bed and starting to dress, "I've known for *years* that you're a suspicious little bastard."

"I -- suppose I've been clear enough about that," Tim says, and sits up on his elbows.

"Mm-hm. Some of us love you for that -- oh. I'm betting Luthor does, too."

"It does seem to make him rather happy --"

Dick snorts and wriggles his way back into his jeans --

It's *precisely* as wonderful to watch as it was to watch him getting *out* of them --

"Are you objectifying me over there, little brother?"

"Ah -- yes. Yes, I am."

"Good to know. These are impossible to fight in, though."

"They do seem... tight."

"Oh, yes," Barbara says.

"Hn. *Thank* you, Barbara."

"You're very, very welcome. I've collected any number of favors for the work I've done on his wardrobe. What will *you* give me?"

Tim smiles -- and watches Dick turn his ass toward the nearest camera and *wriggle* -- "My undying gratitude?"

"It's a start."

Dick stiffens -- and toggles his comm --

"Don't hit him, Man Wonder."

"I --"

"Don't hit him."

"Babs --"

"*Talk* to him. You'll find it rewarding, I promise."

Dick makes a sour face -- and then turns it toward another one of the cameras --

"Cassandra asked him this morning why Tim lies so much."

Dick blinks. "I -- oh."

Barbara hums. "Oh, yes. Let's just say she softened him up for you."

Tim frowns. "I was a liar before *that*, Barbara --"

"He knows. And *she* knows. She wasn't happy about him making it worse, though."

Well... that does make sense. "Is she training here today?"

"Mm-hm. I *highly* recommend you finish up your phone calls sooner rather than later, so that you can go downstairs and encourage her and Dick to spar for your... edification."

Tim's penis twitches. Just -- oh. He holds up a hand to Dick --

Who was absolutely crawling back onto the bed. *Dick* frowns.

Tim smiles ruefully. "Raincheck...?"

Dick licks his lips and *stares* at him, which --

Tim's penis twitches again --

And Tim isn't -- quite -- fast enough to keep Dick from darting in to kiss it. Warmly.

It's possible that his motivation wasn't the best. It --

Dick *licks* Tim's penis --

"*Nnh* -- Dick."

Dick kisses his way down the shaft --

And *up* the shaft --

Tim sits up the rest of the way, shoves his hand into Dick's hair, and *yanks* --

"You're an *extremely* mean-spirited boy with weird -- very weird -- priorities."

"It's because I've never had a pedophile tell me I looked interestingly WASP-y."

Dick snorts and kneels up, catching Tim's hand when he takes it out of his hair and kissing it somewhat extravagantly. "I *want* to say you'll get your turn, but you're aging frighteningly quickly."

"I'm... sorry?"

Dick wags a finger at him. "You should be --"

"Stop sounding like Roy," Barbara says, and does something that makes Dick shiver and gain *hot* distance in his eyes.

"I -- mm. Anything you *say*, Babs. I'm... heading down," Dick says, and gives his penis a squeeze through his jeans.

Tim smiles. "I'll see you there."

Dick turns that hot look on *him* --

And Tim's penis rises just a bit more, because it's stupid, unhelpful, and has excellent taste. Tim sighs and stares at it while Dick walks out the door.

He pushes it down -- it bobs right back up.

He *tucks* it -- and that's exactly as horrid when he's hard as it's always been. Though it does make him somewhat *less* hard.

Somewhat.

"I don't suppose you have anything that will let me control my erections...?"

Barbara laughs softly. "Not even remotely. But Bruce could probably teach you something absolutely ridiculous and painful."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "That would raise the question of why he hasn't used it himself."

"I'm reasonably sure he *did*... during Dick's term as Robin."

That... would make sense. But --

"Yes, little sister?"

Tim blushes and tucks again, then turns over onto his stomach and bends his legs up, crossing them at the ankle --

"Oh... very nice."

"Thank you, Barbara," Tim says, softening her voice --

And Barbara sighs. "I love you... very, very much."

Tim smiles. "I love you, too. And I assumed Bruce had a chastity device or two."

"Oh, he does, but they're not very practical for fighting crime."

"Even with an armored jock?"

"Even then. According to the man himself, the pain was highly distracting."

Tim blinks. "That's... hm. Rather surprising, actually."

"For me, as well, considering..."

"Everything."

"Oh, yes," Barbara says, and Tim's *civilian* palm-top chimes --

Tim grabs it from on top of the bedside table --

And Barbara is smiling at her from the small screen. "Hello, Occasional Girl Wonder."

"Hn. Hello, yourself. I... think this is where I confess to the number of times I woke up panting and confused because I'd dreamed myself into the Batgirl uniform."

Barbara reaches toward her camera --

Tim touches the palm-top lightly -

"I honestly can't decide *what* sort of Batgirl you would've made."

Tim raises her eyebrow. "Other than problematically accessorized...?"

"Tim. *You* could probably wear a chastity device while you were fighting crime... considering how *much* time you spend in those gaffs."

"I --"

"And *no* one gets to decide what Batgirl should and shouldn't pack other than Batgirl *herself*."

Tim hums. "Batgirl needs a Batgirl?"

Barbara laughs softly. "Sometimes I fantasize about making a body for you and Cassandra to share. I'm reasonably sure we could make Bruce retire if it were possible."

"I -- hm. I think Steph would be disappointed, Barbara."

"Not if I made the *right* body," and the palm-top's screen fills with the image of a *lightly* golden-skinned person with shoulder-length black hair, large brown eyes --

A uniform like the lovechild of Barbara's and Cassandra's --

A nose like Tim's --

A mouth like Cassandra's --

Slightly *larger* breasts than Cassandra's --

Hips like -- hm.

"Where do the hips come from?"

"Oh, idle fantasy," Barbara says, and the avatar switches them the way Batgirl always *should* --

Tim sighs and strokes the air above the screen. "I'd feel beautiful every day."

"You *should* --"

Tim waves a hand -- no. "Ah... what exactly is ze hiding under there?"

Barbara hums. "What will you give me for showing you...?"

"My support in all your endeavors which can be filed under the heading of Playing God."

"Oh, I do like you," Barbara says, and the avatar is nude and smiling, sprawled on hir cape on the roof of the Klein building with hir long, lean legs spread --

Hir hair blows itself into a nest in the wind --

And ze's moderately-sized -- an entirely familiar -- penis is erect. And, when ze spreads hir lips, ze is obviously wet.

Tim... licks her lips.

"I -- of course -- agree wholeheartedly."

"I don't think I've ever *coveted* something quite this much," Tim says, and catches herself trying to see more of the avatar --

And ze turns over onto hir hands and knees --

Hir lips look much more like a scrotum this way --

"I... let me see hir in the uniform again?"

"Of course."

And the avatar rises to hir feet, dressed and ready. The boots are deep gold with a -- slightly -- stacked heel. The tights, chest armor, and cape are all a vaguely *insectile* slick and shiny-looking black. The belt and gauntlets -- which are designed as belligerently as Bruce's, but have the length and fetishistic appeal of Barbara's *first* gauntlets -- match the boots. The cape is like Cassandra's --

The cowl -- shifts. Full-face with bat-outline over where the eyes and cheeks would be --

Something as open and impractical as Barbara's --

A large domino --

A *small* domino --

The match to *Bruce's* --

"No, that one doesn't work --"

"You're absolutely right. Still, I had to try," Barbara says, and the avatar switches back to the full-face cowl.

It -- hm. "That one is Cassandra's favorite."

"Mm-hm. How do you feel about it?"

"I'm... not sure," Tim says, and imagines herself in it --

*Fighting* in it --

"I'm not sure if I could give myself to the Bat that... completely."

"It would break Bruce's heart, I think. And turn him on *ridiculously*."

"Hnn. That goes without saying. Perhaps something more like --"

The avatar's cowl shifts to one that matches the insectile look of all the black -- and which is well-molded to the avatar's features.

"Beautiful."

"Thank you, little sister."

Tim sighs and looks at what she'd *actually* wanted to know -- there is *slightly* more *there* there at the groin than what would be showing for a fully biologically-female operative... but. "You'd be counting on my ability to punish my penis."

"Should I not...?"

"Well... a different body is a different body, Barbara."

"And willpower is willpower. Plus..."

The avatar bends over backwards -- and knocks on hir groin. The armor is *between* hir legs. That -- hm.

"Does that... work?"

"I haven't the faintest clue. Come over soon so we can try it."

"I'm not entirely sure I *should* make myself comfortable with tucking while I *work*, Barbara."

The screen switches to a view of Barbara raising her eyebrow at Tim.

"All right, yes, I'm terrified."

"Do tell."

"Well... the main fear is that I would feel comfortable enough with it *emotionally* that I would be tempted to ignore any and all physical concerns."

"You don't trust your control, little sister...?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "Not... for everything. Not for everything related to *this*, anyway."

Barbara nods thoughtfully. "And the other, smaller fears?"

"Mostly that I'd lose -- more -- touch with my masculine side."

Barbara blinks at her. "You're thinking of yourself as being entirely female right now."

"Yes."

"How does it feel?"

Tim closes her eyes and smiles. "Very, very good."

"Oh, Tim... and when you were being Dick's little brother?"

"Also very, very good."

"You never have to decide, you know."

"Certain people tend to place a... certain amount of pressure on... ah... non-affiliated transpeople."

"Fuck them."

"I'd rather not --"

"Tim. You *know* what I mean."

Tim smiles ruefully and looks away -- and toward another one of the cameras. "I do, yes. It's... hard."

"To identify as third-gendered?"

"To do so without feeling a need to explain myself at length. It would be a lot easier if I felt third-gendered all the *time* --"

"Who said this was supposed to be *easy*?"

"Hn. Exactly no one. I... feel like a dilettante."

"Look at me."

Tim closes his eyes --

Imagines a jolt to the spine -- or.

Hm. Tim turns to the palm-top, where Barbara is glaring at her. "Out of curiosity..."

"Yes, Tim?"

"Why didn't you give Dick an implant closer to his genitals?"

"More exciting nerve clusters near the base of the spine."

"I -- really?"

Barbara smiles and kicks her -- sheathed -- legs up on her work table. That --

"Your point is made."

"I thought it would be. Back to the more *important* point --"

"I know. I know I'm not a dilettante. Most of the time."

"How do we get rid of that last sentence?"

"Ah... time? I think the answer is 'time,'" Tim says, and kicks her feet a little.

"You're adorable."

"Thank you kindly --"

"Would you make love with me if you were Batgirl...?"

Tim smiles. "Would I get to see what Cassandra sees...?"

Barbara folds her hands on her abdomen and grins. "Maybe."

"Then... maybe."

"Tease."

Tim rolls her feet on her ankles and shows her teeth.

"Horrible, horrible --" Barbara sighs. "I can't believe it took me until a few months ago to picture you as Batgirl. You're practically made for it."

"You don't think I'm rather too grim for it...?"

"You aren't grim, at *all*... when you're vamping."

Tim blinks. That's -- entirely true. "Hm."

"Mm-hm."

"I..."

"Yes, little sister?"

"I think I'm going to suggest to Cassandra that we switch uniforms and climb on Bruce someday."

"Somewhere, many feet below the ground, a chastity device has just succumbed to sudden and profound metal fatigue."

Tim snickers. "I love you."

"The feeling is entirely mutual. Call your boyfriend so you can go train with everyone else."

Tim salutes the camera. "Out."

The palm-top shows the Oracle mask for a moment --

The avatar in a suit shot-through with distinctly Kryptonian -- and green-glowing -- circuitry --

"Very nice -- oh."

That... would be footage of Clark leaning against Barbara's playroom wall, naked and masturbating *slowly*.

His cheeks are flushed --

There's a *light* sheen of sweat on his golden skin --

His eyes are glowing --

His large, *perfect* penis is --

Is --

Perfect.

Tim squeezes her own penis between her thighs and tries to -- well. She's blushing.

*Flushing*.

And it's really *incredibly* tempting to ask for the rest of the footage for that particular scene --

Her palm-top goes dark.

Tim *grunts* -- and squeezes her eyes shut.

No -- no. She can *feel* Barbara watching her... so she opens her eyes and smiles ruefully at the camera. "Noted."

Barbara doesn't say a word. She really doesn't have to.

Tim kneels up and crawls closer to the bedside table, setting the palm-top down and picking up the phone. And then she --

He lets his penis slip out from between his thighs --

He breathes a little, stretches and *tests* himself --

Herself?

Tim covers his very, very, very small breasts --

Tucks once more --

He needs more ambiguous clothing. He just -- does. Tim sighs and turns to sit back against the headboard. And then he dials.

The phone rings twice --

"Darling...?"

Tim smiles and breathes a little more. "Would it be anyone else...?"

"Well, considering the fact that Bruce called me an hour ago..."

Tim blinks and *flushes*. "Ah. Really?"

Lex laughs quietly. "Yes. It was something like dipping my genitals in ice water, considering what voice he was using, at first. Demanding he talk to me like the person he actually is -- for the first time in a quarter of a *century*, mind you -- was like doing something rather different to the genitals in question."

Tim -- blinks more. "I... don't know what to say."

"He told me you made love with him again last night."

"Ah... yes."

"I'm rather more curious about how you feel about making love with your girlfriend."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Really."

Another laugh. "Oh, yes. I'd placed you rather far along the Kinsey scale."

"Ah... so had I. For a very long time."

"And then you met her...?"

"And then I met her, and was forced -- after an embarrassing length of time -- to admit that she'd be rather better at my job than I am. Unconsciously, I knew it all along -- it's what attracted me to her with helpless force -- but..."

Lex hums. "And that was enough to turn platonic attraction and courtly love to something else entirely?"

Red, gold, and green... "Very much so."

"I would love to share you with a woman sometime."

"Hn. Somehow, I doubt we share a type in that respect."

"She *could* look like Bruce."

Tim snorts. "Lex."

"No...? There are any number of former Eastern bloc Olympians who are looking for something to do with their lives, darling."

"They can look *elsewhere*."

"Your girlfriend..."

"Yes?"

"Would you say she weighs one hundred fifty pounds? More?"

"I'd say she'd murder me for even considering answering that question."

"She's self-conscious?"

"I... believe it would be more accurate to say that she's internalized certain messages. She's smart enough -- wise enough -- to know that the messages are ridiculous and criminally stupid, but they're still there. Making her attractively angry."

"Hmm. Does that mean I should rage in front of you, darling?"

Tim's penis rises fractionally -- "A part of me is answering that question in the affirmative."

Lex laughs again. "Noted. How are you?"

"I've... done a fair amount of thinking. Last night and this morning, I mean."

"Yes?"

"My upbringing may have been even more problematic than I've admitted to."

"Oh... darling."

"Yes, you *did* already know that. I... I made love to Dick this morning --"

"How long ago?"

"A bit less than an hour --"

"Did you have to think about calling me? Or -- hm. I'm not sure if I want you to answer that question or not."

"No, I didn't have to think about it --"

"All right, I *did* want you to answer that question."

Tim laughs and reaches out -- but Lex isn't here. "What are you doing today?"

"Flying in certain panicky board members and smacking them around with the force of my virility and confidence."

"That sounds a lot more exciting than it probably will be."

"Sadly, yes. Only my heavily-armed and decidedly non-neurotypical employees get to see me naked. Were you cuddling with Dick...?"

"A little. And discussing gender issues with Barbara."

"Oh, yes...?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "Sometimes I'm *just* a woman."

"I'd be more than happy to help you explore that in depth."

"Mm... noted."

"Darling... *do* you want to know what Bruce and I spoke about?"

"I'm considering getting it directly from the horse's mouth, since he'll tell me absolutely everything in -- undoubtedly painful -- detail."

"And you think I won't...?"

"I..." Tim frowns and considers...

Strokes the stubble on his legs...

"I'm not sure."

"Is it a question of trust? Or something else?"

"It's... not a *bad* question of trust."

"You believe I'm inclined toward not hurting you. *Too* inclined."

Tim frowns more deeply. "Apparently so."

"It's true that I worry -- deeply -- about your self-esteem when you're not strutting around --"

"Barbara -- Barbara pointed out that I'm never grim when I'm... the word she used was 'vamping.'"

"A good word for it. I -- we spoke about love, Tim. Specifically, our love for you, and our willingness to do what was necessary -- everything necessary -- to have you."

Tim blushes somewhat *direfully* -- "Ah. Hm."

Lex laughs *again* --

Apparently, it's just a *day* for people being amused at him --

"Darling. You're not even going to be a *little* happy about the détente?"

"Of course I'm happy about it --"

"But you'd rather not be at the center of it...?"

Tim lets his expression be sour. "Would *you* want to be?"

"Not even *remotely*. But remember: You are not the be-all and end-all of my redemption. I would rather never touch you again than have you stay with me out of some fucked-up sense of obligation."

"I would rather feel obligated than have you never touch me again -- ah. That wasn't out loud."

"Wasn't it?"

Tim rubs at his cheeks -- no, he'd broken that habit when he was *seven*. It never *works* --

"Tim..."

"Ah... Dick thinks I'm in love with you."

"Does he."

"He's... a jealous man --"

"How jealous?"

"Jealous enough to --" Tim shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"It's -- a family matter. More than anything else. Lex --"

"Darling. Do you love me?"

Tim shivers. "I don't know. I know... I know you make me feel... rather excessively good."

Lex laughs -- breathlessly. "Come over."

"Maybe I should be inviting you over here."

"Oh, darling -- I'm more than willing."

Tim smiles helplessly. "You really would brazen it out, wouldn't you?"

"Watch me."

"Tempting... tempting..."

"You know how I feel about you and temptation, darling."

Tim -- oh, dear. "That wasn't a giggle."

"All right."

"It -- wasn't."

"I believe you with *all* of myself. When should I arrive?"

"Ah... *why* didn't you speak with Bruce about your relationship with *him*?"

"Because I was annoyed at him for *Batting* at me. When --"

"That's the *only* reason why?"

"Oh... you're jealous?"

"*No* -- fuck."

"You're *not* my consolation prize. More to the point, you're far more my type than Bruce is."

"Bruce is *everyone's* type."

"Yes, but you're infinitely more likely to stab someone through the eye someday, and I have to admit that I find that sort of thing restful in my lovers."

Tim... doesn't actually want to know what expression is on his face.

"Yes, darling...?"

"You know, I can *hear* you grinning, Lex."

"Oh, I was hoping for just that."

"And -- are you rocking on your heels?"

"I'm kicking my feet, actually. I had to jump up on the bar to do it, but it's worth it."

Tim snorts again. "Lex."

"Mm-hm...?"

"Is 'restful' really something that makes your heart beat faster?"

"Well, *no*, darling, but it *is* something which fills me with the sort of confidence and good cheer which helps me navigate this cruel, misbegotten world we live in with style and panache."

"Panache -- Lex."

"I *know* you know how to do that, darling."

Tim crosses his legs at the ankle. "I -- how do you feel about painted toenails?"

"I think they're lovely, but usually only because most people's toenails are rather dreadfully unattractive."

Tim sighs. "I agree. I've abused my toes a bit too much for... well. They *used* to be perfectly fine, but now I paint them more than I don't -- would you prefer me female?"

"Well, I could *marry* you entirely without drama then, and -- perhaps -- convince you to bear our brilliant, perfect children... I'd have to say yes."

Tim nods thoughtfully --

"Do *not* let that guide you toward any decisions, please. I'm fully aware that you have access to all sorts of exciting Kryptonian -- and otherwise -- technology, but --"

"I do know to listen to my *own* beliefs and desires, Lex."

"Do you?"

"*Yes*. The problem..." Tim smiles ruefully. "The problem is that my beliefs and desires are confusing and inconsistent much of the time. It's *why* I own so many different items of clothing. I can pin myself *down* that way."

"And even deciding to be third-gendered is a way of pinning yourself down, yes, I see. The literature suggests that questions like these become much, much easier to answer as one ages, darling."

"It does, at that. It's just... I've answered the vast majority of the other important questions, Lex. I feel... slow. Somewhat useless. The word I used with Barbara -- to whom I'm a little sister, as I am a little brother to Dick -- was 'dilettante.'"

"Darling, it's *wildly* dangerous to assume you've answered the majority of the questions about *anything* that isn't an exam with *numbered* questions."

"Fine, but --"

"*And* -- you're not capable of being a dilettante."

"Lex --"

"In any *way*. For the love of *science*, Tim -- you can't *tell* me that you're not going crazy with the need to go out and fight all the crime in your chosen hell-pit after having spent days doing nothing of the kind."

"Actually, keeping an eye on you did, in fact, count as fighting crime in my head."

"Hmm."

"Yes, Lex?"

"Let me get this straight --"

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Oh, darling -- I'm saving that for *you*."

Tim sighs. "You have a remarkable gift for making me wish I was wearing tortuously impractical clothing. But do go on."

"I *may* have sent Mercy to do some shopping this morning."

"Oh, *really*...?"

"I would've preferred to do that *myself*... but there are many, many establishments where it simply wouldn't do for me to be seen."

"I am, of course, wildly disappointed in you."

Lex laughs again. "You still haven't let me get your measurements, darling."

"You *could* have asked Bruce for them."

"He -- of course he knows them by heart. He probably still knows *mine* from twenty-five years ago -- well, that's something which doesn't bear thinking of at the moment. What I was saying before: You do realize that you just gave me the world's best reason for *continuing* to do terrible, *awful* things, don't you?"

"Only if you *don't* want me to enjoy myself with you."

"I --"

"Correction: Only if you *do* want me to wrack myself with guilt over enjoying myself with you."

"Oh... blech. All right, you have a point. But your nights are going to be taken up with absurd and mind-boggling risks to your beautiful body --"

"I was thinking of coming to see you... at dawn."

"Really."

"I have to train today and, yes, I have to patrol tonight... but the thought of greeting the new day with you is very, very attractive."

"And if I want you sooner than that?"

Tim smiles and switches to the headset before moving to the bathroom.

"Are you going to answer that question?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Feeling your sparkle come back, darling...?"

"*Always* with you, Lex," Tim says, and wets the face cloth, stroking down his left shin. He applies the foam *just* there, flicks open the straight razor Alfred hones every three days like clockwork, sighs, and begins to work.

"What are you doing?"

"Shaving my legs. The foam is wonderful when relatively dry, but turns uncomfortably oily in the shower."

"Hmm. Depilatory creams?"

"LexCorp's are the only ones I'd use... if I weren't allergic to them."

"Damn. Do you know *which* compound --"

"Lex. I *like* to shave," Tim says, and rinses the razor.

"Surely you'd enjoy greater efficiency...?"

Tim sighs again. "There are times when the thought appeals... well. I'll figure it out and let you know."

"Good. Tim..."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Tim smiles and feels himself *warm* -- which is just another point of data in favor of all those things he doesn't want to think about --

But which he really, really ought to think about anyway --

Right now -- or. "I'm smiling rather pathetically right now --"

"Doubtful --"

"Would you consider shaving me yourself?"

"So you *do* want me hard for my meetings today."

"Hn. Noted," Tim says, and checks over his shin... perfect. He wets down his calf, applies the foam, and begins again.

"Will you be shaving your sac today?"

"The hair grows in more slowly there. I waxed it. Along with my... hn. Bikini area. "

"You."

Tim smiles sharply. "It was only the second time I ever cried without first being horrifically depressed."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes. Much better than the rotator cuff injury."

"And you *don't* want to wax your *legs*... because you enjoy shaving."

"Oh, yes." 

"You're ludicrously proficient with sharp objects, aren't you."

"Again... oh, yes."

"*Bruce* taught you."

"Mm-hm."

Lex sighs. "He was the only boy at Exeter with a straight razor. You should've seen the other boys staring at him with confused lust every morning."

"They weren't doing that for other reasons?"

"Honestly, it was mostly the shaving. He presented himself as a huge, terrifying cipher liable to say incredibly disturbing things -- or just stare at you until you ran away screaming. When he shaved, though... he looked like a manlier James Bond. And then, of course, there were those times when he would perform some randomly breathtaking physical feat without so much as breaking a sweat. And *not* P.E. Things like catching a dorm mother in his arms after she'd fallen off a ladder, or *using* the slick of ice on the walkway to speed his way to a freshman who otherwise would have been run over... well. I was *there* for that one, and there were more delighted cocks around me than there were at the last Pride parade I allowed myself to attend. Not that they were *called* that back then."

Tim laughs. "I imagine not. Would you now?"

"I've considered it. But... not yet. It would be entirely different if you agreed to be my son, of course."

"You *could* just be a good-natured supporter. There's all that money you dumped on One World..."

"So there is. But I'd feel like a hypocrite if I went without coming out myself."

Tim considers that... "Yes, I suppose I can see that. Still... you could do a lot of good."

"It's important to you."

"Many things are important to me --"

"More important than other things...?"

"Let's just say that I'd rather go to a Pride parade with you than with 'Brucie Wayne'."

Lex coughs. "Oh... dancing debutantes. I take your point. But will you be able to avoid it?"

"This year, yes. Next year... next year, I'll be his son, so... no."

"I'm sorry."

Tim smiles and begins on his thigh. "Don't be. There are parts of me which will enjoy the experience very, very much."

"The same parts which enjoy pouring hot wax on your sac?"

"Quite possibly. Tell me more about you enjoying shaving me."

Lex hums. "You would, of course, be suitably restrained."

*Tim* hums. "I have no problem with that whatsoever... though you'd have to be careful."

"With more than just the sharp object in question, darling? I shave Mercy and Hope all the time."

"Well. It's just that tying me up and pointing knives at my sensitive places is the sort of thing which tends to lead to me doing *exceedingly* mean things to people."

Lex laughs. "Yes, I believe I see. I suppose we could get you drunk first...?"

"I'm afraid alcohol abuse tends to make me ludicrously tense," Tim says, and checks over his work -- yes, time for the other leg.

"'Tense'? *How*? No, wait, it's because you're used to it being a test in how well you can keep your *secrets*."

"Mm-hm."

"I'm trying to decide if there's any point in slipping you space-cake."

Tim blinks. "I think... that I would pay a large amount of money to see you high on marijuana."

"No need."

"No...?"

"No. Simply fashion for yourself a time machine --"

Tim snorts. "Yes, I see. Well, a boy can dream."

"Ecstasy...?"

"Lex, if I get any *more* sexually active --"

"You'll have a great deal of fun?"

"Well, yes, but --"

"You'll learn all sorts of tricks which you'll then bring home to me?"

"Almost certainly, but --"

"You'll --"

"Lex."

Another hum. "Yes, darling...?"

"I'll *also* have less time for you."

"And this is a *concern* for you."

"*Yes*, Lex, it's a *concern* --"

Lex laughs at him. "I'm kicking my heels again."

"I'm imagining carving an erect penis into your scalp."

"With a straight razor...?"

"No," Tim says, and examines his right shin -- perfect. "None of the ones I have are *dull* enough."

Lex laughs *more* --

"You clearly don't appreciate me enough."

"On the contrary, darling, you are... well, no, not my *sunshine*, per se --"

Tim snorts *painfully*. "Lex, if you make me nick myself --"

"Scalp-cock, yes, I know." Lex sighs. "I suppose I'll just have to set a few mad scientists to work on some *other* pleasure drug for you."

"Do they have to be mad?"

"Darling, they're *LexCorp* scientists. What do *you* think?"

"I think that I'm going to be somewhat conflicted when the moral geniuses out there start seriously considering going on your payroll instead of Bruce's. Though... what *is* the Cadmus crew up to these days?"

"I have no *idea*, since I haven't been able to send any of my Virtues to check on them in weeks. Theoretically, they're working on something which will bring crèche technology one step closer to being a viable option for human parents, but, honestly, they can't be left to their own devices for very long without *some* random atrocity being committed."

"I believe my penis is trying to retract."

"Let me come over and *fix* that for you, darling. I promise -- oh. A visitor."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Have your board members started to arrive already...?"

"Don't be silly; they're all far too cowed to arrive more than ten minutes early to *anything*. It's Kon-El."

Tim blinks. "Do those windows even open?"

"Of course not. *But*... I do have roof access, and I believe I need to go use it immediately."

"Of course. Since you're going to be busy... dawn?"

"My cock is throbbing with disappointment... but the rest of me, I must admit, is rather elated. Until dawn, darling. And thank you for... absolutely everything."

"Mm. You're welcome. Give my regards to Kon."

"Absolutely. *Do* enjoy your day -- and your night," Lex says, and hangs up.

Tim does the same, and focuses on finishing his shave. He'll shower, have a light meal, train...

And then he'll do vicious things to terrible people until it's late enough to wake Lex up.

Kon might even stay long enough to *help* with all the viciousness, which would be *exactly* too much fun to be allowed to one seventeen-year-old... person.

Tim smiles. He'll have it anyway.

*

The roof of the Chilton is entirely dull, but at least it lacks the shadows and grotesques and shadows *of* grotesques which make Gotham... itself.

Also --

Also, his son is standing three feet away from him, scrubbing a hand over his *deeply* homosexual Caesar-cut and looking sheepish, hopeful, anxious, worried --

Lex smiles. "You've grown again."

Kon looks down at himself, tugging at the t-shirt which seems to be doing its level best to expose his abdomen --

The thing was already *tight* --

How much disposable income do the Kents have to hand? Could it *be* enough to feed and clothe a nominally teenaged superhero?

And -- that was an insipid statement. Start over. Lex steps close, offers his hand, and raises an eyebrow.

"You -- uh. You usually color your eyebrows. Don't you?"

"Yes, I do. And I'll be doing so later, before assorted board members arrive."

"I'm. Um." And then Lex is being hugged with awkward warmth and absolute bravery.

The fact that Mercy is almost certainly preparing to use her pulse rifle on Kon is -- just one of those things --

"Uh. Is this okay?"

"I'd hug you back if --"

"I guess I'm kinda. Restraining you."

Lex laughs. "A useful tactic with a supervillain."

"Yeah, but you're *not* anymore. And -- I'm dealing. I'm totally dealing," Kon says, releasing Lex's arms and hugging him under them.

Lex hugs back, and strokes Kon's back in long, firm motions --

"God, and you're actually *good* at this -- because of Hope?"

"Among others... but, yes, *mostly* Hope -- oof."

"Uh. Sorry. Always forget that a lot of people can't take that little end-squeeze --"

"It's all right --"

"Well -- okay." And Kon squeezes Lex again before pulling back and grinning. "So -- I mean, is it okay that I'm just showing up?"

"Absolutely --"

"I mean, I meant to call --"

"It's all right --"

"And -- you have meetings today?"

Lex smiles. "I do, yes. You're welcome to sit in on them if you'd like."

"Uh. No thanks? I think I gotta go with no thanks."

Lex laughs. "I don't blame you, since the meetings in question will involve far more mollycoddling and *gentle* browbeating than anything particularly dynamic or entertaining. Come inside with me?"

"Sure," Kon says, and flies rather than walks to the roof-access door, though at a speed exactly matched to Lex's own.

Lex checks -- yes, those boots are in *very* good condition. Mercy brings up the rear, and they make it back into the suite without incident.

Lex *starts* to dismiss Mercy -- and pauses.

Mercy raises an eyebrow at the hesitation --

And Lex moves close and grips her jaw and hip, biting the bruised part of her lip --

She stiffens -- then relaxes and purrs. She always appreciates a bit of decidedly terrifying PDA, and, truly, it's the least he can do considering *everything* she's going to have to put up with from now on.

Lex squeezes her with both hands. "If I haven't managed to get rid of the quivering pustules by nine p.m., *do* walk in wearing nothing but your scars and your holsters."

Mercy smiles brightly. "And if you *have* gotten rid of them...?"

"Then I'll expect to see you in your scars and your thigh-sheaths. Dismissed," Lex says, and lets go.

She switches her hips --

Turns her back with a *wildly* bitchy little *twist* of the hips --

And walks out, knowing full well that Lex is watching every moment of it. And once she's gone --

"Uh."

Lex smiles and turns back to Kon. "Yes?"

"You're seriously gonna have her crash a *business* meeting naked?"

Lex walks to the bar and pulls a bottle of disgustingly healthy -- and delicious -- pineapple-flaxseed juice out of the small refrigerator, waving it in Kon's direction...

"Yeah, sure, I'll try it," and Kon flies to the bar to join him, sitting on one of the stools and spinning around a few times.

Lex pours for both of them -- at his age, he needs all the omega-three fatty acids he can get -- and takes another of the stools. "One, we're in a city she loathes, and have been here for far too long. Two, I've asked her to accept radical changes in how I do business -- and pleasure. Three, one of those changes involves the addition of both a male teenager and a male-*bodied* teenager to my life. It's simply prudent -- and many other non-simple things -- to make sure she's as happy as possible about other aspects of our lives."

"And... naked-and-armed-for-company counts as happy-making," Kon says, and nods thoughtfully. "Okay, I hear that. She really hates teenaged boys?"

"Loathes them beyond her capacity to express... unless she's given the opportunity to express herself with weaponry."

Kon winces. "I -- damn. Next time I'll call."

"I'd appreciate that... but I also appreciate this very, very much."

"Even though I interrupted your Tim-time?"

"Even so," Lex says, and takes a sip of the somewhat distressingly *sleek* juice. It's impossible to get away from the sense that one is drinking something which has any number of things in common with *pure* oil, despite the juice's overall deliciousness.

Kon is eyeing his glass curiously -- and then he shrugs and chugs the juice, sighing and licking his lips when he's done.

"Would you like more?"

"Nah, I'm good. I like it, though. Weird, but good."

"You almost certainly won't be able to find it in Smallville -- as opposed to places with a significantly higher Caribbean and South American population -- but I'd be happy to send you some...?"

Kon grins openly, easily. "Hey, thanks."

"You're welcome," and Lex files the mental note accordingly. "As for Tim-time... well. Now that he knows that *I* know, he's going to be going back to risking his life on a nightly basis. There'll be far less time for him to spend with me."

"Or *anyone*," Kon says, and kicks the legs of Lex's stool. "He really doesn't quit, Lex."

"No, I imagine not --"

"I mean -- uh. You're gonna have to get used to him being your boyfriend over *there*. Quickly."

Hmm. "You've resented his... work ethic?"

"Well, *yeah*. I mean, it can be *hard* to get him to have any fun at *all*. Uh. Well, fun that doesn't involve beating the crap out of people," Kon says, then frowns -- "But you're boning him."

"Yes --"

"Meaning... he loosens up with you?"

The urge to tell a terrible joke --

"Heh. 'Loosens.'"

-- is absolutely shared. Lex gives Kon a *mock*-quelling look --

Kon snickers and kicks Lex's stool again --

And Lex hums. "I think he's decided to have a great deal more fun in his life in general."

Kon nods. "He *has* been more... I don't know. Himself-but-louder."

"Yes?"

"Yeah. Like... well, not *much* louder, but still smiling more, laughing a little every once in a while. Hell, he even let Kory hug him the last time we were all out in SF together. I dunno. Maybe he *will* let us all in sometime -- heh. Heh heh."

"Kon."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, *you* wanna make sure he stays a nice ride -- hunh. *Do* you do anal? Lots of people don't."

"I do, yes. And... I received a great deal of helpful information from exceedingly friendly gay men at the clubs I occasionally bribed my way into as a teenager."

"That's cool."

"Exceedingly. Has your body performed the way you've wanted it to sexually?"

"Hunh? Oh, yeah, totally. I mean, sometimes I get *way* too hard *way* too often, but I can use the TTK to keep from, you know, poking my way through the world," and Kon... gestures.

Lex blinks. "Now that's a use I hadn't considered."

"I know, right? I mean, I *thought* about beating myself up a little for not thinking it up *immediately* -- I mean, I wore some *tight* freaking tights for a while -- but it's also... I mean, it's not like we're supposed to use our powers on *ourselves*."

"It does seem to be a rather *lonely* paradigm within your community, at that. I..." Lex considers.

"Yeah?"

"How *many* objects can you manipulate at once?"

"Consciously, I'm up to about thirty-five, forty things. Depending on how complicated the things are, and how much I have to work to contact them. Like, say, there are bunch of fuse boxes on a wall. Like, all in a row or something. Okay?"

"I'm following you."

"'kay. So I touch the wall, and I can get all those fuses at once, and it's easy, 'cause there are only so many things I *can* make them do without breaking them. But if, say, there's a bunch of different *dials*, or I'm fighting off a bunch of huge guys who are all trying to keep me *away* from that wall, or something like that? It gets harder."

Lex nods. "Understandable. And unconsciously?"

"Heh. Well..." And Kon smiles ruefully. "Sometimes it's like I don't have to touch things, at *all*, you know?"

Oh... "True telekinesis."

Kon shrugs. "Maybe? I mean, it never happens when I'm *thinking* about it."

"Could you be... manipulating the *air* touching the objects in question?"

"That's what Tim thought, but then I dismantled all the guns in L.A. that one time --"

"That --" Lex grins helplessly. "Of course that was you. Incredible."

"Heh, thanks, but it was pretty scary at the time."

"A lack of control is always frightening," Lex says, and waves a hand. "What sorts of things have you tried to help you harness this ability?"

"Well, I *can* do things like this," Kon says, twitching his fingers slightly --

And there's a breeze tickling Lex's scalp... and tying his tie into a loose knot. "Remarkable --"

"It was cool when I figured it out, but I haven't really... I mean, when I try to make more serious gusts and stuff, my control's just *not*. But I can push things around and --" Kon frowns and stares at the refrigerator --

It rocks and opens --

The juice flies out and appears to open itself as Kon taps on the bar with two fingers --

And then there's more juice being poured into Lex's tumbler. Well --

"That's enough," Lex says --

"Uh, huh," and Kon puts the juice away again with much more apparent ease. That --

"It's easier once you've allowed yourself practice?"

"Kinda? It's more like... I have to get used to the air currents a little. And the... the things that make the air up."

"Yes?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's a little more nitrogen in here than there was outside, and there are some other little things... I don't know. It's why Tim and I don't think this was what I was doing in L.A, 'cause --" And Kon gestures toward the window --

And the gull flying outside shows no sign of... anything.

Lex nods. "All right, I think I can see what you're saying. There's no such thing as a *perfect* seal for a window in a hotel, so you should theoretically be able to manipulate the air just outside... but it's different enough that you can't."

"Got it in one. Anyway, Tim's had me trying meditation like I've said, and I've also tried some lucid dreaming exercises -- and that got fucking *embarrassing*, because I wound up feeling up half the Tower in my sleep --"

"And you were in your own bed?"

"Uh, hunh."

"Then --"

"Nah. We had all left our doors open all day and everyone I was feeling up had *kept* them open. Good thought, though."

Lex frowns and considers the matter -- "Emotional stresses?"

"Well, I *have* been pretty fucked in the head every time I've done something like that, yeah."

And *that* would be -- absolutely terrible to experiment with. Damn. He shakes his head --

And Kon snickers and kicks his stool again. "You totally wanna put me in a lab."

"Kon, I'm a mad scientist at heart. I want to put *everyone* in a lab -- including myself."

Kon snickers *more* -- and sighs. "I gotta say -- if I don't figure this out soon? I'll *let* someone experiment on me. I *need* control of this power, since it seems like there are more and more super-strong, super-fast bad guys around every day. I gotta have an edge."

Lex nods once. "I promise to put some of my best minds to work on the problem -- with as little time in the lab for you as possible."

"Oh, hey, I'll help and stuff --"

"Kon --"

"It's *my* superpower, Lex --"

"And if you *weren't* more than a little traumatized by the idea of spending time in a lab, you would've done it by now," Lex says, and raises an eyebrow.

Kon winces and turns away --

Oh -- no. "It's all right --"

"I -- I know Tim wants to help."

"He does have an excellent mind. Kon --"

"It's just -- I was trapped, you know?"

Lex -- winces. "Yes. I... there's nothing I can say --"

"No, there really isn't. But there's also... I mean, some of the time I was trapped? You couldn't have done anything about. I was trapped in my *head*."

"That's nightmarish --"

"Well, *yeah*."

"For how long?"

"I -- it felt like forever," Kon says, gesturing --

The condensation from Lex's tumbler spirals up into the air and dances itself into intricate and lovely patterns --

"It was only about a week, going by how much information was programmed into me during that time."

"And after that?"

"I could move. And -- get free," and when Kon gestures this time, the droplets split into smaller and smaller drops --

And then there's a mist --

And then -- nothing. Lex honestly can't tell if the air is more humid than it had been, but he's going to assume that it is.

"Kon... what can I do *now*?"

"Uh. You're doing it. And -- you know, make sure there's always someone talking to the new clone. Like, at least for a little while every few days."

"Every day. And -- call him your brother --"

"Your son," Kon says, and raises his eyebrows.

Lex smiles. "That, too."

"What are you gonna name him?"

"I was planning to ask him how he wishes to be referred to when he achieves consciousness."

Kon nods. "That works. But, you know. Choosing a name *also* works."

"Better...?"

"I liked... I mean, when Clark named me Kon-El, I really felt like I belonged. Like I had a family, you know?"

Lex takes a deep breath. "Noted. Then I will choose several names which seem appropriate."

"Cool. Have you, you know, started?"

"Yes. I'll be working with my Hephaestus Labs this time. They're highly-skilled and will welcome the challenge. Additionally, they're located only an hour by car from Smallville. I've instructed them that you're to be allowed access whenever you wish."

"You... really don't fuck around, do you."

"Not," Lex says, and smiles, "as a general rule."

"Heh. Nice. So... can I meet Hope?"

Lex smiles more broadly and taps his wrist implant --

And, one and a half minutes later, Hope walks in. She's wearing the ecru workout ensemble Lex loves *second*-best, and her favorite trainers. Lex examines them --

Yes, they've been in this benighted city long enough that it's almost time for her to break in a new --

"It is time for a new pair," she says, and raises her eyebrows in question.

"You tell me, darling."

"The support remains perfectly adequate; however, running on Gotham's streets has left the soles in... difficult condition."

He'll just bet. Lex sighs. "*Did* we remember to pack a second pair for you?"

"No, Lex."

"All right. Barring unforeseen circumstances, we're returning to Metropolis in three days."

The corners of Hope's mouth twitch with what may very well be actual happiness. Her eyes show nothing but an inchoate blaze of *something*, however --

Well. Lex reaches up and strokes her perfect cheek. "Darling, meet Kon-El. Kon, meet Hope Terrell."

Kon grins gamely and offers his hand --

Hope takes it, squeezes *precisely*, and shakes it three times. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kon-El."

"Uh. Is it? I mean -- you, too."

"It is a pleasure, as I've said. You have given Lex happiness, and he believes you will continue to do so. This is... warming."

Kon looks *somewhat* stricken -- perhaps for Hope's eyes -- but he shakes himself like a dog and squeezes her hand gently. "You don't hate teenagers or anything?"

"No."

"Okay, cool. So... should I call you Hope, or Ms. Terrell, or...?"

She looks to *him* --

"As you prefer, darling."

"Yes, Lex," she says, and cocks her head to the side while studying Kon.

"Uh. You're thinking about it?"

"Yes."

"Okay," and Kon uses the air currents to push one of Hope's braids behind her ear, then smiles with a puppyish absoluteness which is -- breathtaking.

Hope raises both of her eyebrows --

Kon smiles more widely --

Hope pulls the tie out of her hair and shakes several braids forward... and then raises *one* eyebrow.

Kon's expression changes to something rather more reminiscent of a teenaged girl's emoticon than anything else, and he uses the air currents to tie her hair back again. Neatly.

The corners of Hope's mouth twitch somewhat *alarmingly* -- no, no, he's made of sterner stuff than that.

Though Kon might not be. Lex claps him on the shoulder firmly --

"Eep --"

"She's pleased with you."

"Oh. Seriously?"

Lex turns to Hope and raises his own eyebrow --

"Yes. I am pleased," she says, and blazes at Kon *brightly*. Her eyes suggest things more akin to vivisection than hugs, but...

Successful families learn how to take each other *precisely* as they are.

"Please, Kon-El, call me Hope."

"Sure!"

Lex hums and allows himself to make, oh, all sorts of plans.

He'll *ask* the ubermensch whether he'd prefer to take Thanksgiving or Christmas with Kon, and --

Well. There's no telling *what* sort of ubermensch-requiring emergencies could pop up on whichever day the creature chooses -- wait. He's not supposed to make *that* sort of plan, anymore.

Lex sighs internally and promises himself six or seven truly uncharitable thoughts later.

For now... "Shall we see about lunch...?"

Kon's stomach grumbles on cue. "Uh -- apparently? Sorry --"

Hope pats Kon's abdomen affectionately.

Kon grins *again* -- and pats Hope's own abdomen.

Lex goes to make the call.

*

There are times when Bruce wonders what he's done with his life and loves --

There are many times like that. Here, now, alone in the car and parked in an alley next to a run-down but solidly-built apartment building --

He has no Robin at his side, despite the fact that both Tim and Stephanie are planning to patrol tonight.

Dick is on his way back to Blüdhaven.

His communicator is set to passive-receive only. And --

He had refused Cassandra's company -- she was the only one ready this early, because she had chosen to spar with Dick while suited-up -- and pushed her gently away from himself when she grew insistent.

She may or may not know where he'd chosen to start his night, but she had definitely known it was a trip which would... wound.

This is why he wonders about himself and everything he's done. He has hidden his intentions from everyone else tonight, and --

And that is not correct.

Bruce raises his hands -- he is in the gauntlets. He can't -- he cannot cover his face.

He reaches to toggle the communicator --

He lowers his hand --

He reaches --

He lowers his *hand* --

"B."

He remembers that there are cameras absolutely everywhere, including the dash, and he laughs somewhat painfully.

"Well, *that's* an improvement."

Bruce toggles the communicator. "I'm glad you feel that way. I -- now is not the time."

"Oh, really, B? Let's recall that I *know exactly where you are*."

"O --"

"What are you doing there."

"It's only prudent to *check* on the man --"

"'The man.' B... what are you looking for? The boy you fell in love with? The man you chose to lie to constantly?"

Harvey. Always... always Harvey --

("Bruce, you're the smartest guy *in* this place. I *know* you can remember to call me Harv."

"Perhaps... with time?")

And Harvey had snorted and clapped him on the shoulder before shaking him back and forth --

"*B* --"

"I'm looking for what I always look for, O. I am fully aware that I probably will not find it --"

"But you have to torture yourself anyway?"

Bruce shows his teeth in the only smile the Batman is allowed --

"Oh, *please*."

-- save that the Batman is allowed no such thing in the presence of love, concern, *hope* -- "I'm sorry."

"I *know* that. *Do* something about it."

"I have every intention of allowing us time for... emotional education."

"Oh, really."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Whenever you wish."

Barbara mutters rather obscenely -- "And *don't* do anything *stupid*."

Bruce hums his way into the Batman's growl. "Noted. B out."

And he slips out of the car and climbs the fire escape with slow, stealthy care, passing the kitchens of families too poor and powerless to be able to keep Harvey Dent out of their apartment building. Legally, psychiatric patients with two references from reputable psychiatrists can't be kept from renting or buying anywhere they wish in this state. *Practically*... is something else entirely.

Bruce Wayne had had to apply -- through several cut-outs -- a certain amount of pressure to the landlord. He -- and every other tenant -- had received financial concessions since then, and every last one of them had taken the money and moved out as soon as possible.

These tenants have had no such options, and the question of whether or not to make sure they do --

No, he *will* make sure if Harvey shows any signs of deterioration, or --

Or, perhaps, he will simply pause where he is, and stare into the eyes of the most beautiful man --

The years have only *honed* him --

"Dent," Bruce growls in the Batman's voice --

And Harvey smiles wryly. "You know, whenever I hear a really *serious* engine rolling around these streets at night, I just assume it's you."

"It often is."

Harvey nods, gaze going distant for a long moment -- and then he steps away from his kitchen window, taking the screen with him. "Please."

Bruce shudders internally and steps in, accepting the fact that he's holding two batarangs, that he's scanning for traps, betrayal --

"No henchmen, I promise."

"Harvey..."

"Yeah, Bruce?"

"As soon as I plant the cameras I *must* plant... we will have no privacy," Bruce says, and turns to face his first friend, his first brother.

Harvey nods slowly, thoughtfully --

He is freshly shaven, as there is no part of Harvey which can abide that sort of personal... decay.

He is dressed in old suit pants and a sleeveless undershirt, and his musculature has gained the rangy power he always at least *begins* to lose in Arkham. The dragon tattoo Two-Face had forced on Harvey's side of their body is harsh, brightly beautiful, *compelling* --

Though less so than the perfection and beauty Harvey had forced on Two-Face's side of their body. Less --

Bruce tucks the batarangs away and reaches out to cup Harvey's face --

As ever when the damage is repaired, the scars seem so *innocent* --

Harvey smiles and closes his eyes. "Even after all this time, Bruce?"

"There is nothing which could make me stop loving you."

Harvey *squeezes* his eyes shut -- he opens them again. "I'm sorry for that. You don't -- I don't think I can tell you how much."

Bruce nods and allows himself only a moment's touch before dropping his gauntleted hand. "How are you?"

"Eh. I'm keeping pretty busy. All kinds of tough guys fall to pieces when Two-Face shows up to collect them for a court date, the rest need to chest up a little. You know how it goes."

Bruce smiles wryly. "That wasn't quite what I asked."

Harvey looks at him from under his lashes. "So it wasn't. I... coffee?"

"No, thank you, but go ahead."

"Don't mind if I do," he says, and pours himself a mug of Kona -- his variety of choice since Bruce had first introduced him to it when they were sixteen. Then he took it light with two sugars. However, since being introduced to stationhouse coffee as an up and coming ADA...

("There's just no point, big guy. If I can't take it black, I can't take it at all. That artificial creamer crap just adds insult to injury.")

He sips, sighs, and slumps a little. "The nightmares... are pretty terrible. I gotta be honest about that."

Bruce nods. "And the medications?"

"Alprazolam and zolpidem before bed make it so I sleep through the nightmares anyway. venlafaxine, risperidone, and ziprasidone for the rest of the day makes it so Two-Face is a whisper in a windstorm."

Bruce frowns. "What's the storm?"

"You can't guess...?"

Oh, Harvey... "You want to turn up Two-Face's volume."

"No, I don't. I really don't, big guy," and Harvey frowns. "You're off your game or something?"

"Harvey... tell me."

Harvey takes a breath. "So -- okay. Lex is in town."

"Yes."

"What the hell are you doing about *that*?"

Watching my love lose himself -- no, not that. Not truly. "The situation is being monitored."

Harvey looks at him from over his mug, wry and dark -- and then winces. "You're not telling me because it's one of them doing the monitoring. Your partners. Your family."

Bruce steps close once more. "I want to believe in a day when I never have to hide anything from you again."

"You -- you can't, anymore."

"It's not that."

Harvey frowns. "Then...?"

"I want it, and..." Bruce shakes his head and peels the cowl back --

"Ah, big guy --"

"I want to believe, and I do believe. I want to believe and, perhaps, that's *why* I believe. I don't know, Harv. I never have."

Harvey takes a hitching breath --

Another --

"Harv --"

"Lex is part of the storm. Having him in town is just -- are you tempted? Ever?"

"No."

Harvey frowns again. "You're serious? Just like that?"

"The memories are sweetly painful, vivid and rich with sound and scent..." Bruce smiles ruefully. "I have other loves now, and so does he."

"You're *not* still in love with him."

"I didn't say that," Bruce says and strokes over the knuckles of Harvey's free hand, which is resting on the edge of his simple -- and spotless -- Dormica countertop.

"Bruce --"

"I have no wish to renew my relationship with him, for all that it could be possible --"

"What do you mean *possible*? The guy's a *stain*!"

"He has ended every -- *every* -- illegal and immoral project he's had a hand in, and has turned his employees toward assorted positive and actively philanthropic goals. He's in the process of cutting his ties to organized crime --"

"You're serious."

"Yes --"

"You're *serious*," Harvey says, and bangs his half-full mug down on the counter before wincing and checking for chips and marks --

"You did no harm --"

"*Today* --" Harvey growls and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What -- how did you fix him?"

"I didn't."

"Then... Superman? No, that makes no sense, at all," and Harvey pushes past him and begins to pace, showing himself the passionate attorney rather than the crumbling madman. Bruce resists the urge to move close once more --

To touch and *hold* --

"*Why* aren't you tempted?"

"He's... involved with someone quite seriously. Someone for whom I care a great deal."

Harvey paces for another several moments. "That's enough -- of course that's enough. You're *you*. What if he wants you? What if he goes for you again?"

"He won't."

"Bruce, I love you and I'm *always* gonna love you, but this is the part of life you're *bad* at," Harvey says, and gives him something of a *look* --

Bruce laughs helplessly. "Very true. And yet... I am sure about this. We spoke about our mutual lover earlier today --"

"*Mutual* -- but you're you, and that *was* kinda what you already said. Jesus, who *is* this -- guy? Girl?"

Bruce shakes his head.

"And we already know *that* answer leaves a *vanishingly* small group of people. Ah, big guy. Two-Face gets so fucking jealous he can't *see*."

"I know, Harv --"

"Two-Face -- he *stole* the part of me that always wanted -- but you know that, too," Harvey says, moving close and cupping Bruce's shoulders, staring into Bruce's eyes. "How do you manage to avoid the facial scars?"

"Alien technology -- and blind luck. Harv --"

"Wait, I." Harvey strokes Bruce's chest through the suit. "I always think I have it under control, you know? I *know* Two-Face is just a part of me that I let get too *apart* from the rest. I *know* that if I'd just dealt with all the ridiculous *abuse* -- no, no, I'm not gonna beat myself up for that."

"Good."

Harvey's smile is crooked and bright, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are deeper on the left side than they are on the right.

Of course.

"I was gonna tell you about the rest of the storm."

"Please."

Harvey nods slowly, biting his lip -- he stops. "It's Gilda, and how she'll never be mine again. And it's *you*... and how you were never mine, at all."

"Harv --"

"And it's *both* of you, and how I know those last two sentences aren't true, at all, in the worst, most hurtful ways possible."

"May I hold you?"

"In *that* suit, big guy?"

"Please."

"Don't -- beg." And Harvey's laugh is rough, *harsh* -- and then his arms are around Bruce's chest and his head is on Bruce's shoulder, and --

And Bruce can hold on, and stroke, and *have* -- something his *other* loves could never understand, or condone. Bruce holds Harvey more tightly --

"It won't be tonight, Bruce."

"I know, Harv."

"You can't -- you can't *watch* me all the time."

"No."

"But -- the cameras will let the others keep an eye on me, too."

"Yes."

"Assuming I don't find them all and just have my breakdowns *away* from them."

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Please don't."

Harvey laughs with *bright* pain --

"Oh, Harv..."

"Why don't I get better, hunh? Why does everyone get better *except* for me?" And Harvey pulls back to meet Bruce's eyes --

Bruce cups the back of Harvey's head -- carefully, so that the texturing on the gauntlets doesn't pull his hair too much -- and leans in to rest his forehead against Harvey's.

"I -- please, big guy."

"I love you --"

"I *know* that --"

"You'll get better."

Harvey shivers. "How can you even *say* that at this point?"

Bruce pulls back and smiles at him. "You're a great deal more self-aware about your troubles --"

"'Troubles,' Bruce? *Really*?"

Bruce hums. "Your illness, then. Does that suit?"

Another pained laugh -- "God, you -- okay, keep talking. Tell me why it's different this time."

"You know yourself more fully than you ever have before --"

"I --"

"*Including* the time before your first break," Bruce says, and raises an eyebrow.

Another shiver --

Harvey *strokes* Bruce's eyebrow --

He drops his hand and takes a breath. "Keep going."

Bruce nods. "You know the traps and pitfalls your mind creates for you. You know what hurts you, and what eases you. You know *fear* -- but much of it is *useful* fear, of the sort which can guide you toward making the right decisions."

"Like -- taking all the pills and drinking only decaf at night."

"Yes. And allowing your loved ones to watch over you --"

"Big guy, you're my *only* loved one."

Bruce winces --

Harvey smiles gently and pats Bruce's cheek. "It's not like I had all that many more before things went pear-shaped in my head."

Gilda, and Jim. Still -- "I always wished for you to have more --"

"Funnily enough, I wished the same thing for *you*, big guy," and Harvey's smile turns wry again. "Well, most of me did."

If I had known my relationship with Lex would make things so much worse --

But, of course, it could've been anyone. Anyone other than himself --

Anyone who could take what they wanted from the world, instead of *being* taken by it --

Rolled *over* by it --

"Ah, stop that, big guy."

"Harv?"

"You're doing that thing where you're blaming everyone else for my problems," Harvey says, and wags a finger at him. "Not allowed. Even though I started the pity party myself."

"Harv, you're allowed to be upset --"

"Not all that upset, though. That's... well, you know how it goes, Bruce. It's way too easy for me to get... way too upset. Way too *angry*."

Bruce winces and nods.

"Is it harder when I'm like this? Harder to remember all the little -- and big -- fault lines in me?"

Scars... on his psyche. Bruce  strokes the scar Dr. Pearl -- or, perhaps, her partner Dr. Rosen -- had left just below Harvey's left cheekbone. The epithelial cells were grown -- and aged -- artificially, but they match Harvey's never-scarred flesh nearly exactly. The doctors are artists, and Harvey will never know their names, lest Two-Face take revenge on them.

For all that he had never, truly, taken revenge on Bruce himself --

Bruce lowers his hand when it starts to shake --

And Harvey squeezes both of Bruce's hands in his own. "It *is* harder, isn't it?"

"In some ways. In others..." Bruce shakes his head. "The pain and difficulty in your eyes tells me much."

"Okay, that's -- do you think I'm on my way down again?"

"No, Harv."

"Are you *sure*?"

"Yes. I -- you know why."

"Because I'm not fucking *seething*."

"And --"

"Because I'm not playing you off. Because -- this is just us."

"Yes, Harv."

Another shiver -- and Harvey rests his head on Bruce's shoulder, presses it against the flexible neck-armor of the cowl -- "I can't smell you enough."

"Harv..."

"Do I... I think the pills change my scent up a little."

"They do, yes."

"I hate that. Like sleeping with a stranger every night," and Harvey releases Bruce's hands and strokes his arms.

Bruce frowns. "You haven't... become accustomed to it?"

Harvey sighs. "No, I have. I'm just -- complaining for no damned reason, actually. I need -- how about the two of us meeting up other places? Places where we get to use each other's names."

"Are there --"

"There has to be. Doesn't there?" Harvey pulls back --

Harvey leans back in and kisses Bruce's cheek before pulling back again --

Harvey smiles crookedly, *warmly* --

So beautiful -- "If -- you've never asked for this before."

"No, I -- I know I haven't. But I gotta let you look after me, don't I?"

("Don't worry, big guy. I'll *always* have your back.")

Bruce swallows. "I'll find a place for us."

"I can do at least some of the looking -- you're gonna put us on some windy damned rooftop forty stories up, aren't you."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "They tend to be very private places, Harv."

"For a *reason*, big guy! I -- heh. No, I'm not actually complaining."

"No...?"

"Nah. I miss -- I always miss talking to you. Every time we can manage it. Every *way* we can manage it. You -- you know what I'm talking about?"

"Every rhythm was missed," Bruce says, and brings Harvey's left hand to his mouth --

"Seeing if you can smell a coin?"

Bruce smiles. "No," he says, and kisses Harvey's scarred knuckles.

Harvey gasps -- "Bruce."

Oh -- "It's too much."

"Ah -- a little. A little."

"I'm sorry --"

"It's okay --"

"There's -- there is a question I must ask, Harv."

Harvey tugs his hand away and smiles ruefully. "It would've been the same for the right hand. I just -- the meds do weird things..."

"To your libido?"

"Ah -- yeah, actually," Harvey says, frowning -- and then smiling ruefully again. "And of course you know that, too."

Bruce nods.

"You ever..." Harvey bites his lip.

"Yes, Harv?"

"I -- am just gonna ask. What does it do to you? All the things you see, I mean."

"Sexually?"

Harvey doesn't blush, but it seems as though he would *like* to -- "Yeah."

"Sometimes it's difficult to chase the worst of the memories out of my mind when I wish to be intimate with a lover."

"Only sometimes?"

Bruce offers his own rueful smile. "I have always been... obsessive."

"Obsessive enough to focus on the guy or girl more than the crap in your head?"

"Yes, Harv."

Harvey nods. "Good. That's -- I want that."

"Have you... is there someone you desire?"

Harvey smiles. "Because you'll get 'em for me?"

"If --"

Harvey *snorts*. "No, Bruce. Just -- no. There isn't anyone like that, anyway. I don't... a part of me is still about twenty-eight years old, big guy."

"Frozen in time?"

"Nah, not quite. Just... I feel like I'm beginning again. I feel..." Harvey sighs and pushes a hand back through his thick, short hair. "I gotta be honest about something."

"All right, Harv."

Harvey smiles crookedly again -- "This is the first time I really believe it."

'It'? But -- it could only be one thing. "You understand that you're only one person."

"Uh, huh. I'm still -- I still slip up with how I talk about the whole thing -- obviously -- but... ah. Dr. No-Name with the mask didn't take any bullshit. She ran rings around me, tagged me even when I was bobbing and weaving with the best of 'em... well. One day, I'm gonna be sane for a good ten, fifteen years in a row, and then you can trust me enough to let me thank the woman properly."

Dr. Cabalar had volunteered for the job, which usually means, in Gotham, that the doctor has some terrible agenda of his or her own... but not even two months of intensive study had pulled up any information but glowing testimonials from her professors, patients, and colleagues.

She'll be returning to her home in the Dominican Republic soon, but has demanded to be summoned back should it become necessary. But --

"Would you ever... I've wondered, in the past, if you might not have an easier time outside of Gotham."

"Do you *trust* any of your allies to deal with me if I lose my shit again, big guy?"

"Not... many. But some."

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "Then... then, yeah. I think about it sometimes. It's mainly not wanting to lose you -- or be out of your reach -- that stops me. Gotham is too old, too dirty in every single fucking way... and I'll never be able to help get her clean again."

"Oh, Harv..."

"No, no. You know they'll never let me be a good guy again, Bruce."

Bruce breathes around his *heart* -- "There are other ways."

Harvey frowns -- and then rears back. "Bruce --"

"Only... I only make the suggestion."

"Because I *need* to beat the crap out of more people on a daily -- nightly -- basis?"

"Some of us find that sort of thing deeply therapeutic."

Harvey's laugh is nervous, but bright. "Some of us *don't*."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "There is much I would do -- and much I could *teach*."

"Yeah, because you *don't* have enough people running around after you -- ah. Strike that from the record."

"All right, Harv."

Harvey turns away -- but not wholly so. He gives Bruce *most* of his left side as he chews the writing callus on his right hand.

Bruce takes the time to study him, to --

No, his body is still wonderful, still strong and sure --

He... he has gone so long without lovers. Years and years with only the parts of him which were Two-Face allowed sexuality, and those parts of him...

There was not enough of Harvey's self to allow true love, though he had come close with Renee Montoya -- almost certainly because parts of him knew it could never progress. Never --

"You wanted this, didn't you."

"Harv?"

"Way back then when I was making you run around and work your beautiful body and when you were planning to travel the world."

Bruce takes a breath. "Yes."

Harvey nods and bites his callus again -- he pulls his finger out of his mouth and turns to face him with wry humor once again. "Has it occurred to you than I'm in my *forties*, big guy?"

"If that's your only objection --"

Harvey snorts and jabs Bruce over the stylized bat on his chest. "It's a really *good* objection for those of us who *aren't* machines, Bruce."

"I am a man. I am scarred, and I am often in pain --"

"That. That right there -"

"I am also well-satisfied with the life I live," Bruce says, and raises an eyebrow.

Harvey takes a breath -- and, this time, he does blush.

Bruce pulls off his gauntlet and touches his cheek for the warmth, for the feel of scars --

"Bruce..."

"Yes."

"I... ah. I need you to go, big guy."

Bruce swallows. "As you say."

"But -- but you'll find me again."

"Yes."

Harvey nods, and it's somewhat jerky, rough --

"Harv..."

"Tell you what."

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna sit right down at that table," and Harvey points, "and then I'm gonna put my face in my hands and just breathe while you plant all the cameras you want. Okay?"

Bruce strokes Harvey's cheek again. "As you say."

Harvey nods again and goes to the table, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes -- but he could be more tense. He could --

No, not that. Bruce plants cameras in the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room, the bathroom, and the small storage room which is, at present, full of books. Many, many books.

Most of them are legal in nature, but Bruce finds several fiction books that he had given to Harvey over the years, and knows that, if he gave himself time, he would find the rest.

Along with every book ever given to him by Gilda and Jim.

He plants several more cameras in the few closets, and in the aging but beautiful molding that adorns the spaces along the floors and ceilings of every room save the bathroom.

When he's done, thirty minutes have passed, and Harvey is at the counter again with more coffee.

Bruce gives himself permission to only look at him, to --

"I'll think about it, Bruce."

Bruce smiles helplessly.

"Like I could really say no to the chance to *work* with you again?" Harvey shakes his head. "I'm settling for 'not right now.'"

"All right --"

"I'm gonna... spend some more time at the gym. See what kinds of things I need to fix."

"I could --"

"I wish it was your place, big guy. I wish I'd ever gotten a chance to see it."

Bruce swallows again, and stares -- helplessly.

"Tell him -- tell all of them I'm sorry, maybe? No, that won't work, at all. That -- none of them know that I know."

"No, Harv, they don't."

"Because they would end my punk ass?"

"Because it would cause them... a great deal of stress."

Harvey snorts. "Ya *think*?"

"I do, yes," Bruce says, and steps close once more.

Harvey takes Bruce's right hand in his left and *pauses* -- but then squeezes. "Do I get to tell you to be careful out there?"

"Yes."

"Do I get to tell you to be careful with your *heart*?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Does that ever work for *anyone*, Harv?"

"Uh... no. No, it doesn't," Harvey says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand and snickering.

Bruce hums.

"They're all just -- beautiful inside. Aren't they?"

"So are you --"

"Bruce."

"No one... no one escapes this life without pain, and difficulty, and conflict, and other terrible things."

Harvey frowns. "Meaning they've all got their own fault lines?"

Tim's *gauntlet* -- "I -- I can't speak of that --"

"With me. I know. I know you can't. I'm sorry."

"It's all right --"

"No, it isn't, big guy. But it will be," Harvey says, and grins brightly, *bravely* --

"Yes -- yes, Harv. It will."

Harvey closes his eyes and tilts his head back, smiling still --

("Ah -- can't let you touch me there, big guy."

"Your throat?"

"It's pretty damned sensitive."

"Oh...")

Bruce cups Harvey's shoulder, instead, squeezing firmly --

And Harvey laughs softly, *easily*, and tilts his head back down to face him. "Will we ever get a chance, do you think?"

"Yes."

"Just that? No equivocation?"

"I believe in us. Always."

Harvey takes a deep breath -- and turns to kiss Bruce's hand on his shoulder. "Get outta here before Oracle catches you with your ears down."

"I haven't activated --"

"Before -- before I make any promises I'm not sure my body can keep tonight."

"It's all --"

"Big guy. Work with me."

Bruce smiles. "Happily."

Harvey snorts and gives him a playful -- and powerful -- shove. "*Shoo*."

"Mm. Until we meet again, Harv," Bruce says, and pulls the cowl back into place.

Harvey shivers again --

And Bruce turns to go without looking back.

Before he's two blocks away --

"*Well*?"

"He's doing well, O."

"And that means?"

That one day I'll have my brother again, more than I've ever had him before. One day -- but how much can he keep from Barbara in good conscience?

From the rest of his family?

The answer is a simple one.

"It's a situation which needs to be discussed by absolutely all of us, at length, while we have time and freedom to hash out every last ramification," Bruce says --

He believes he can *feel* Barbara blinking --

Bruce smiles wryly. "Yes, that is precisely what I said."

"What are you planning."

Bruce shakes his head.

"God*damn*it, B --"

"The conversation can wait until tomorrow."

"Did you tell him?"

"No," Bruce says, entirely honestly -- no. No, he must not -- "He has, however, known for years."

"*What*?"

"He knew when he was still the District Attorney --"

"*Batman* --"

"He knew -- and found ways to protect the knowledge from the darker parts of himself."

"And you just never --" Oracle growls.

"I could not."

"You don't get to *have* that kind of *weakness* --"

"No, I do not, and I need to apologize to each and every --"

"Spooky? You're so getting punched in the junk."

"That's fair --"

"B."

"I... yes, R-1?"

"Do I even have to say it?"

Bruce pulls over into another alley. "If it would ease you."

"Ease --" Tim snorts. "This is... well. You know precisely what this is."

"I --"

"Boss...?"

"D-- N..."

Dick's laugh is shocked and *pained*. "All. All this time..."

"Yes."

"He could've *destroyed* us, B! And we wouldn't have had any *warning*!"

Bruce covers his face with his hands -- no. "I knew --"

"That he *wouldn't*, B? *Really*?" And Tim's voice has the snap of *rage* --

"You know what, little brother? I don't think you get to talk about this."

"*N* --"

"Oh, I really, *really* *fucking* do, because --"

"Because he made sure we would all *know*," Barbara says. "*Immediately*."

And there's silence over the channel --

Until Clark clears his throat.

"Now is *not* the time, Prime --"

"Forgive me, O, but... ah. I believe this is where I point out that I knew, as well. I... I have monitored the situation as best as I could."

Silence again --

Until Stephanie growls. "All right, where's the goddamned special K when you need it?"

"Oh -- R-2, please don't --"

"How could you *keep* this from us? You *know* how I feel -- *augh*, no, N out."

"*Wait*," Bruce says, because he must --

"*What*?"

"We need -- we must discuss this. As a family --"

"Oh, that's rich. That's just -- how about you *treat* us that way *first*, boss?"

"I'm. I'm trying --"

"But you still went to him first. You still -- you *always* --"

"*N* --"

"*No*, Batman, you *don't* fucking get to order me *around*. Not this time --"

"I *know* -- I mean only to..."

"What."

"I mean only to make myself understood. I mean only --"

"You want to bring him in," Barbara says, and her voice is wondering and incredulous --

The silence is a *chasm* --

Bruce shudders --

And Tim sighs disgustedly. "All right. You all voted me as Gotham Vigilante Most Likely To Be Cold, Logical, and Suspicious Even When Some Other Sort Of Response Is Desirable..."

"Except when it's *Luthor* --"

"And *you*, *big brother*, but let me *fucking* *talk*."

Dick inhales sharply -- "I'm sorry. I'm -- go on."

"Fine. It can't happen, B."

Bruce closes his eyes behind the cowl. "Go on."

"One: His mental illnesses are entrenched, and can be triggered in countless different ways. Two: His self-control in terms of violence is weaker across the board than *any* Arkhamite other than the Joker. There are exceptions to this, but there are *only* three. Those exceptions apply -- unevenly and unpredictably -- to you, Renee Montoya, and Gilda Baines. Three -- and I feel strongly that I can end here for now -- the *only* reason why we aren't all rotting bones in the smoking crater where HQ used to be is because the man is mad enough to be able to convince himself that he doesn't know extremely sensitive information --"

Dick snorts --

"Well -- fuck," Tim says, and snorts himself.

"Oh, what *now*?" And Stephanie sounds even angrier than she had before --

"That's *my* -- question," Oracle says, and then *chokes* --

Clark *hoots* --

"Funny?"

Cassandra... Bruce smiles ruefully. "What everyone else is recalling, BG and R-2, is the occasion on which it became necessary, due to the machinations of Hugo Strange, to pretend that I was only my most... useless self. To convince myself *utterly* of same, so that I did not know -- or comprehend -- anything of any tactical use. I --"

Cassandra lands on the hood of the car and gestures 'open.'

Bruce opens the roof --

"Hey, what's going on now?" And Stephanie sounds *curious* and annoyed --

"BG has joined me," Bruce says, and leans over to make it easier while toggling the roof closed again -- "She is proceeding to slap me. Repeatedly and with great force."

Dick cackles. "*Thank* you, BG."

"Welcome," she says, and tugs the cowl back in order to twist Bruce's already-sore ears.

Tim blows out a breath. "The fact that *you're* not suited for the Mission does not, in fact, make Harvey fucking *Dent* suited for it, *either*."

"What *he* said, boss. Also -- also, I'm sorry, little brother."

"You have... certain reflexes. I understand," Tim says --

"You *shouldn't*, personfriend. He was being a jerk."

"Agreed," Barbara says. "The only reason why he isn't twitching on the ground right now is because he is, technically, in the middle of fighting for his life."

"*Jesus*, O, be *nice* --"

"Hn. No."

Cassandra has turned to twisting Bruce's nose --

"Please don't make that swell too much for the cowl, BG," and his voice is... quite nasal. Of course.

Stephanie snickers. "Keep it up!"

"Will," Cassandra says, and *punches* Bruce's ear --

Bruce takes a moment to allow himself to truly *experience* the pain --

There'd been something of an *explosion* behind his eyes --

"Ouch," Bruce says, and wonders how the cowl will feel over that ear. Tortuous, almost certainly -

"C'mon, what did she do?"

Bruce opens his mouth --

"She punched his ear, R-2," Barbara says. "And now she's thinking about what else to do. She's looking at his groin --"

"*Do* it, BG!"

"Can't. The plate's too thick," she says, and frowns at him darkly. "Stop being crazy in the bad way."

"I'm trying --"

"Harder. *Faster*."

She had said much the same thing when last they'd made love... and there is no way to confuse that moment with this one. She is disappointed in him, and the ache for that --

There should be a way to have his *brother* --

His *first* --

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, and cups Cassandra's face through her cowl. "I have told myself, more than once, that there should be ways to deny history --"

"There *aren't*," Stephanie says.

"You... you have more reason than most to say those words, R-2," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "But also more reason than most not to."

"You know what? Fuck you."

"I -- please. I only meant --"

"I *know* what you *meant*, Spooky. But I don't know what *you* got taught in those ridiculously expensive schools, but denying history is a fan-fucking-*tastic* way to repeat it."

Bruce closes his eyes --

Cassandra slaps him again  --

"Thank you kindly, BG," Barbara says. "You know she's right."

Bruce opens his eyes. "Yes, I do. Just the same, we have all learned from experience that there is equal difficulty -- and horror -- possible when we use the past to deny the possibilities of the present and future."

Silence --

And Cassandra's frown is, now, aimed at herself. That cannot stand. Bruce pushes his seat back as far as possible and gestures 'come.'

Cassandra's expression turns *angry* once more --

"Please, my love. I have been mistaken about many, many things. I have injured those who deserved nothing of the kind. I have wallowed in selfishness, greed, and self-pity. I have... I have failed, time and again, at being the man you have all needed me to be -- the man I promised I *would* be. But I need you now."

"Too damned *bad* --"

"R-2 --"

"*Personfriend*! He's been endangering the Mission for *years*! And now... now he's talking a whole lot of fucking *shit*."

Dick blows out a breath. "Okay, *now* I'm done, and -- R-2, he's getting better."

"Not *fast* enough."

"Agreed," Cassandra says, and crawls over the center console and into Bruce's arms. "He is still ours."

"*Yours*, maybe --"

"Yours, too," Cassandra says, and cups Bruce's face. "Ours."

"Yours," Bruce agrees, and cups her waist, squeezing at the firmness she had taught him was best, needed -- loved.

Barbara sighs. "His, too."

"Too -- too *much*," Dick says.

"Exceedingly so," Tim says. "Excuse me for a moment."

A *softly* effortful grunt -- he is facing at least three targets.

"You do your thing, personfriend. I -- look, B, you... I get being in love. I get being in love so much it makes you *dumb*. I even get being in love in dumb ways for a long fucking time -- but you seriously go above and beyond."

"I --"

"It's kinda what he does," Dick says. "*Always*. *Every* damned time, and I -- B."

"I'm listening. To all of you," Bruce says, and pulls Cassandra closer. Close enough that he can smell her beneath the leather and synthetic elements of her armor.

She wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes bruisingly hard, and it's several messages at once --

"You said. You said you never made love with him."

"Never."

"Really?"

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut for the doubt in Dick's voice --

There was a time when Harvey was the *only* person who could make Dick doubt him --

"I need. I need to know this, boss."

"Never," Bruce says again. "But I have... I have hopes."

Tim grunts again -- it's a laugh. "This, N, in case you were wondering, is the part where I can't say a word."

Barbara laughs --

And Stephanie crows. "Bitchiness powers, activate! Form of -- foxy vigilante opening up a can of whup-ass in three... two..." And Stephanie *whoops* --

And there is the sound of cursing in the distance --

Stephanie has almost certainly flown directly into a crowd of targets --

"Shape of -- ambiguously -- *nn* -- gendered vigilante midway through causing a large amount of --"

The *shriek* of Tim's target carries --

"-- pain. Hn."

"What the hell did you *do*, little brother?"

"Nothing permanent. Where were we?"

"Reassuring N that B doesn't love Dent more," Barbara says --

And Dick's laugh is a thing of far, far too much *old* pain -- "You're just putting that out there --"

"I am, yes. B?"

"I do not love him more. I could never... I could never build hierarchies in my mind. Not about the men and women who have become my family."

"'Family.'"

"Yes, N."

"You can't -- you can't really make someone stop being your family," Dick says, soft and *hurt* --

"I *disagree*," Stephanie says. "You can -- hey, jerkwad, stand *still*!"

"*He* can't," Cassandra says, and strokes Bruce's shoulders. "Never could."

Barbara sighs. "It's true. He's always been disgustingly sappy about it."

"And -- one moment," and Tim growls. "Right. Or. Left."

Tim's target's response doesn't carry -- until the man begins to scream.

Stephanie snickers. "Which did he pick?"

"He chose the 'fuck you' option, which unlocked certain... bonuses for his ribcage."

Stephanie *cackles* --

"As I was saying -- B has even chosen to *share* that sappiness from time to time. Chosen to let us *see* how it works in his mind, his heart, his... other places... ellipsis..."

Dick snorts. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just -- he's always gonna be the one who beat me, B."

"N --"

"And he's always gonna be the one who *nearly* took me away from you for good."

"I was a *fool* --"

"You still freaking *are*!"

"And you always, always will be," Barbara says. "But, apparently, we've decided to love you anyway."

"We have not!"

"We have," Cassandra says, and kisses Bruce's reddened cheek.

"Fine, *I* haven't," Stephanie says, and grunts the way she only does for certain kicks with her left leg -- "And also? You people are freaking crazy."

Tim coughs falsely around the words 'you love it.'

"Oh, go eat a dick, personfriend."

"Hn. Not until dawn. Or -- hm. Maybe sooner than that. Hello, Kon."

Bruce narrows his eyes reflexively --

And Cassandra nerve-strikes his jaw, paralyzing it in the most painful way possible.

Bruce signs 'noted' to her, and waits for the excruciation to pass.

Dick sighs again. "What exactly are we *doing* with this, boss?"

"Can't talk," Cassandra says.

"Oh -- ooh. That sounds promising, actually --"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Man Wonder. She nerve-struck him for thinking an uncharitable thought about Kon-El."

"Thank you *very* much for that, BG. R-1 out."

Bruce reaches out -- but, of course, Tim is far from him.

And, of course, Tim hadn't *needed* the -- Kon-El to lead him to Lex --

Dick sighs the way he does when the wind fails to fight him as much as he wants it to in flight. "Presumably, we're all meeting up at base tomorrow?"

"Yes," Cassandra says.

"Oh, I'll be there," Barbara says.

"Oh -- freaking fine. But I reserve the right to make R-1 bitch *all* of you out."

Bruce signs --

"Says 'noted,'" Cassandra says, and massages Bruce's face either to intensify the pain or to shorten its span --

No. It's both.

"All right, then. *Now* I'm going. B... *please* tell me you know that you don't get to *have* this kind of secret anymore?"

Bruce signs again --

"Says 'nothing else.' And 'sorry.'"

"There *better* not be anything else. You're only the dominant partner because we *let* you be."

Bruce signs --

"Says 'yes.' And 'sorry.'"

"Stop apologizing! Or -- wait, no, don't --ooh -- wait, I'm mad at you, too!"

"I *am* sorry, R-2," Clark says, "but it was a secret I wasn't even comfortable talking to *B* about."

Bruce signs --

"Says 'knew you knew.'"

"Yes, well, that *is* just like him." Clark sighs. "Perhaps we can *all* promise to be honest with each other from now on about all the little things? And the not-so-little things, of course."

"I'm *always* honest!"

"Yes, of course, R-2, but -- ah. They spent many years without you and your influence," and Bruce is absolutely sure Clark is using the guileless, *earnest* smile that --

"You are such a freaking suck-up sometimes."

"Ah -- well... hem. Yes."

Stephanie snorts. "Fine. Just -- fine. But B isn't getting anywhere *near* the Promised Land for a *while*."

Cassandra giggles -- "Says 'damn.' Lots."

"He *signed* that?"

"Didn't have to."

*Stephanie* giggles -- and Bruce wishes he could smile for it. He promises himself time to do just that when his face functions once more.

"Are we good?"

"Yeah, N, we're good."

"Mm-hmm."

"Yes. Says 'yes.' And 'I love you all.' And 'kiss me.'" Cassandra sticks her tongue out at him. "Says 'sorry.' A lot."

His loves laugh at him --

And Barbara's face pops up on the dash-monitor. "You know what? You two stick together tonight."

Cassandra nods once, and Bruce does the same. And squeezes Cassandra's waist once more.

"O out."

"N out."

"R-2 out. Don't be an ass anymore."

"Says --"

"I *don't* wanna hear it, BG. Out."

Cassandra nods again and pulls Bruce's cowl back down, pressing it against his bruised and swelling ear --

And Bruce discovers that he's regained the ability to wince, which suggests -- yes. He signs 'ten minutes' --

And Cassandra hugs him once more, and presses close.

Bruce closes his eyes and enjoys it.

*

Forty-five minutes ago, Kon said the words "you know," then picked Tim up and began carrying him to the various crimes he could hear. It's an incredibly useful way to patrol -- especially since Kon is more than fast enough to drop Tim into the thick of things and then hide himself from prying eyes.

He hadn't said anything after that.

Tim can feel him watching as he dispatches the -- formerly -- armed robbers who'd been making life difficult for two liquor store clerks with more piercings in their faces than active brain cells. They'd attempted to fight the robbers -- who were carrying MAC-10s -- with *one* sawed-off pool cue, and now one of them is bleeding from the leg and the other one may or may *not* be able to keep his right hand and forearm.

Still, it could've been worse. The robbers are terrible shots, and the air is chokingly foul with the scent of assorted alcoholic beverages. So far, none of it has gotten anywhere on Tim save his boots, and -- there.

Tim tosses two batarangs and the guns go flying --

And now it's time for the *real* show. It's much, much safer performing to impress Kon -- or Bart -- than it was to perform for Steph, since he feels no temptation to slow himself down as he kicks --

Strikes --

Leaps up and away from a surprisingly concerted attack --

Spins and sweeps --

Strikes *down* --

Again --

*Again* --

And then he uses his staff to break their ankles very, very, *very* badly -- since he can't risk them losing their hands to swelling around the zip-strips.

They scream and curse in *very* satisfying ways --

Tim considers at *speed* --

He breaks their jaws, too.

After that, he triggers the macro which will call emergency services.

After *that*, he turns to the victims -- but Kon is already bandaging them quite well.

"Uh -- sorry. Just, you know."

"I know. And I have no objection," Tim says, folding his staff away and taking the cigarette lighter away from the clerk with the injured arm.

"Hey, no, I got this --"

"You're sitting in a large amount of flammable liquid, sir."

The man's eyes widen dramatically --

And he begins to go into shock.

They and the man's friend -- who turns out to be named Craig -- talk him through it until the EMTs arrive, at which point Kon flies them *up* --

And through a cloud.

Tim shivers. "Is the smell gone?"

"Yeah, mostly. Sorry, I thought my eyeballs were gonna melt."

"Not a problem -- though I'd appreciate being warmer than I am?"

"Sure," Kon says, flying them back down to one of the few r-points *he* knows and heating the air around Tim until he dries at speed.

Tim sighs, feeling himself loosen all over -- "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So... uh. Next crime scene?"

"Kon. Would you like to talk?"

"Would *you*?"

The urge to demur is -- itself. And not needed in the slightest, since Kon would already be bringing them to the next crime if there were anything serious enough to justify it. Tim smiles ruefully. "Actually... always. With you."

*Kon's* eyes widen -- "Holy freaking shit, Tim. You're not sick or anything, are you?"

"Only emotionally, and I'm working on that. I -- I want you to know that I love you --"

Kon kisses him, using the TTK to press Tim's body against his as much as possible. Tim is technically standing on a cushion of nothing above *Kon's* feet --

And the kiss is -- hot. Slow, hard, loving, *serious* --

Tim hums and urges Kon's tongue into his mouth --

Kon grunts and *fucks* Tim's mouth -- and the only possible response to that is to tense his arms and *jerk* until Kon releases them and Tim can cup Kon's face and make the kiss even harder --

*Kon's* response to that is to slow the fuck of his tongue to something which could only be termed teasing by --

A Philistine? Maybe?

It's the sort of kiss which is hard to *think* through, and that's the sort of thing that Tim has learned to appreciate over the years. Tim smiles into the kiss --

Kon groans --

And it abruptly becomes very difficult to tell which of the hands on him are real and which of them are Kon's aura. There are hands on his hips, his shoulders, his shoulder blades, his ass, his thighs, his groin, his wrists, his *ankles* --

Tim pulls back. "Kon."

"Uh. Yeah?"

"I'm reasonably sure you wanted to talk to me about something."

"Why are you *thinking*?"

"Because I had my penis replaced with a lightsaber."

Kon chokes -- and smacks him in at least sixteen places at once. "C'mon, seriously --"

"I'd rather -- I don't want to make love with you with anything hanging over us."

"Oh. Oh. Uh -- not just making out?"

Tim raises an eyebrow -- and *then* thinks about it. "Cassie."

"Fucking -- yeah. Uh. You really want to --"

"Yes. But -- I don't want you to cheat on your lover."

Kon looks pained. "Lex has been... uh."

"Yes?"

"He hasn't been *pressuring* or anything, but. He has things to say about what happens when poly people date monogamous people."

Tim winces. "Yes, I imagine he does. But -- you and Cassie have been doing well together for most of a year."

Kon smiles ruefully. "You still forgot about her for a minute."

"I'm not the best person in the world."

"I -- I actually know that."

Tim nods and strokes Kon's cheekbones. "We can just talk and patrol."

"Or..."

"Or we can do something you'd almost certainly regret."

Kon winces again. "Shit. You -- really kinda had to put it that way, didn't you."

Tim offers his own rueful smile. "I'm sorry. Really."

"Because you'd rather just turn me on more?"

"In a word... yes."

Kon nods and bites his lip. "What... what changed your mind about this?"

"The fact that Lex -- and my family -- have been forcibly relaxing me about sex. Nightwing... well, he flat-out ordered me to make love with you."

"Okay, he's awesome, but -- how does that even come *up*?"

"We were making love at the time."

Kon's jaw drops somewhat. "You did it with your *brother*?"

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I've been more than half in love with him since I was three years old, Kon."

"Uh -- oh. I thought..."

"Yes?"

"I thought it was just, you know, platonic."

"I... why?"

Kon shoves him gently. "Because it's *you*, dude."

Well -- "All right, yes, that does make a kind of sense --"

"It makes *all* the sense. You're *never* a horndog."

"Kon, you almost never *see* me when I'm not wearing an armored jock."

"*Exactly*. You can't *get* hard under there."

"I can -- and do, often -- get *partially* hard. And then, as soon as I take the jock off..."

"Uh. Seriously?"

"Haven't you *looked* when we've showered together?"

"Well, *yeah*, but I thought you were just, you know, still at that age. It happens with humans."

"It never occurred to you that I was actively thinking about sex?"

"It did, at *first*. But then you always changed the subject when people brought it *up*, dude."

Tim opens his mouth -- and closes it again. And nods. "I never realized the image I'd created of myself was that... compelling. Well, in any event, before the past few days -- during which I've made love with Batman, Lex, my girlfriend, and Nightwing --"

"Uh."

"Before that, I was masturbating at least twice a day *every* day, and, while masturbating, I was fantasizing sexual activity with at least three different people."

"Uh -- every time?"

"Yes."

"Like. Every time."

"Yes."

Kon stares at him. "Are you -- are you a ho?"

"Yes, probably."

Kon nods again, biting his lip -- "Okay. I think -- well, I think that's gonna take some getting used to? But I don't judge you or anything. I mean, you know what *I'm* like."

Tim smiles. "I have to admit..."

"Yeah?"

"I've wondered how you've *survived* the last eight months."

"Well... heh. It's not like you don't *hear* me and Cassie when we're all at the Tower."

"Mm-hm. But you rarely seem to make love for more than two hours at a time."

"True, true, but that is some *quality* fucking."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well -- yeah. I mean, she's not always *real* adventurous -- it took *forever* to talk her into tying me up with her lasso -- but, you know. Super-strength. There's just no bad there."

"Hn. Don't make me jealous."

Kon blushes.

Tim narrows his eyes. "Kon..."

"I -- uh. That's kinda maybe a fantasy."

Tim leans back against one of the water tower's supports and crosses his arms under his cape. "Tell me more...?"

"Seriously?"

"I'll tell you one of mine..."

"About me?"

"Would you like to hear about my fantasies about other people?"

"Would you *tell* me?"

Tim considers -- no, there's no question. "I wouldn't compromise security, but beyond that... I see no problem with it."

"Dude."

Tim smiles ruefully. "I've. I've wasted time. Wasted *friendship*. Nightwing pointed out how close to the edge we all live our lives..." Tim shakes his head. "It was something I understood -- very well -- when we were in Young Justice, but I couldn't actually *do* anything about it because of Batman's directives. And because of my own terminal shyness, trust issues, and social... well, let's call it 'retardation.' You have to have realized what a hopeless geek I am."

"Uh. You're Robin."

"And a geek."

"But -- Robin's not a geek."

"I really, really am. FaeQuest-party levels of geekdom."

"When do you have *time*?"

"I *don't* -- anymore. But I still miss it," Tim says, and smiles again. "Anyway. Assorted things happened that made all of my issues *worse*... and, somehow, I stopped understanding the fundamental truth of what our lives are like. I'm only Robin because the *previous* Robin was brutally murdered by the Joker four years ago, Kon. For that matter, the number of times when I've *nearly* been murdered are legion. Hell, I almost died from the *Clench*."

"*Seriously*?"

"Mm-hm. I don't even remember most of being nursed back to health by Batman and Nightwing -- which is something I appreciate more than words can say."

Kon snorts and punches his shoulder. "*That* I can understand. I mean, it's not like I *ever* want *Clark* taking care of me."

"Or Lex?"

Kon gets a distant, thoughtful look --

And Tim raises an eyebrow. "You have to think about it?"

"Kinda, yeah. I mean -- *he's* not my mentor."

"He could be..."

"Uh. Dude. So not gonna be a freakin' corporate raider when I grow up. *Or* a mad scientist."

Tim laughs quietly. "All right, that's fair."

"Uh. Are *you* planning to be a corporate-raiding mad scientist? I mean, I know I'm supposed to act like I don't know *exactly* who Batman really is even though I know who *you* are, but..."

"Hn. Yes, I take your point. And... I'll be spending some measure of time doing that sort of thing in the future. And not very far in the future, either."

Kon winces. "Damn. I'm sorry, dude."

"It's all right. The worst part of it, for me, is the fact that it's something I could've done to make my father happy when he was alive... and didn't."

"You didn't have *time*."

"I didn't *make* time --"

"Dude --"

"Kon. I'm not going to have any *more* time in the future --"

"You totally will, though. No *school*."

Tim -- blinks. Then flips his lenses up so Kon can see him doing it.

"Yeah, *think* about it."

"I -- had completely forgotten that particular -- hm."

"Yeah, I'll bet. *You've* been stuck in school your whole damned life practically."

"I... actually wasn't planning to go back in the fall," Tim says, and considers... "I mean, I'd planned to place out *because* it would give me more time to train and things like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It's -- it's nothing I could've done if my parents were still..." Tim shakes his head. "Anyway, you're right. My father never would've let me place out even if it meant I joined him at DI."

"Yeah, I... don't think about it? I mean, obviously we can talk about anything --"

"Hn. But you'd rather go back to what we were discussing before?"

"*Yes*, because I'm totally a teenaged boy with a super-cock, but also -- dude. Anything. At any *time*. It's just that I think you shouldn't beat yourself up when you don't *deserve* it."

"I... I really wasn't the best son I could be."

"Yeah, but you totally helped save the world. Like, a lot. It *balances*, I swear."

And his father wasn't --

His parents turned him into --

It wasn't Dana's fault. None of it was *Dana's* fault. None of it could *be* her fault, and right now --

Right now, he's not allowed to visit her. And the doctors don't think he *will* be allowed anytime soon, because --

Because it's Gotham, and the only predictable thing about it is that *everyone* has fractures in their psyche *somewhere*. Perhaps he would've been able to do something about Dana's if he'd ever allowed anything resembling a *substantive* emotional conversation...

Or, perhaps, he wouldn't have.

He can do nothing about the past now save *regret* it --

And doing that extensively can and will make it extremely easy to turn the present and future into things to regret, as well. Tim smiles ruefully --

"Tim...?"

"I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Well... I will be okay," Tim says, and reaches out. "Certainly, that's my plan."

"You're freaking *awesome* at plans," Kon says, taking Tim's hand and moving close.

"Hn. I learned from the best. Let's hug."

Kon responds to that by picking Tim up off the roof a *little* and squeezing him, turning him -- "I love you, dude."

"That is, by far, one of the happiest aspects of my life," Tim says, and kisses Kon gently, *dryly* --

Kon makes it much wetter --

Much *harder* --

And Tim has a decision to make. A question --

A choice between regrets. He can't make this only *Kon's* decision. He can't --

The fact that he and Cassie have never truly been friends is meaningless. She's his teammate, and thus one of the people he regularly trusts with his *life*. More to the point, she's never injured him in any way, and it certainly isn't *her* fault that Tim hadn't done anything about his mutual attraction with Kon before now. The fact that a part of him honestly doesn't care about *any* of those factors...

Tim shakes his head and pulls back, panting until he can even his breathing --

And dealing with the fact that, at some point when he wasn't paying attention, he had cupped Kon's groin through his jeans. He --

He lets go --

Kon grunts -- and rests his forehead against Tim's own. "So... we're not actually doing this."

"I -- we --" Shouldn't. Except that that would be *weaseling*. "No, Kon."

Kon swallows and nods, *dragging* their foreheads together -- "You're right. You're -- really, really right."

"I rather hate that I am."

"Yeah?"

Tim licks his lips and leans back against the water tower support again. "I'd rather be making love with you."

"Like... right here."

"Yes."

"On a *rooftop* in *Gotham*."

"Hn. Well. I do have to get back to patrolling as soon as possible."

Kon snickers and shoves him again. "Asshole."

"Sore one, to be precise."

"Uh. Did *Lex* do that to you?"

"He had help from Batman."

"Dude."

"Yes?"

"You let Batman *fuck* you?"

Tim pinches his fingers together. "Not for as long as I wanted him to. I... well. I *first* started fucking myself while masturbating because I was thinking of Nightwing... but it didn't take very long, at all, for Batman -- and his *true* alter ego -- to make it into those fantasies."

"Even after all the crap he's pulled."

"Let's just say that he gives *remarkably* effective apologies."

Kon looks skeptical --

"Kon --"

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"I mean -- are you *sure* it's not just that he's your mentor and *owns* your ass?"

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Is this where I ask pointed questions about Clark?"

Kon blushes. "Uh. I mean -- okay, yeah, it *was* like that for a while, but, you know, all he really did was flirt back then."

"And now it's more than flirting...?"

"No! It isn't! I mean -- okay, it's more serious flirting, and I'm totally gonna talk to Cassie about *that*, too, but... uh. Something? Wait, isn't Clark doing, like, your whole family?"

"Yes."

"Except for you."

"Yes."

Kon frowns and bites his lip. "Is it... I mean. It's not because of me, is it? Why you're not doing him."

"I..." Tim blushes.

"Dude," Kon says, and strokes Tim's cheeks. "Is that a yes?"

Well... Tim smiles ruefully. "I don't really put it in those terms in my mind. It's more... there's been something of a block between my attraction to him and my ability to do anything about it, at all."

"How do you mean? I mean... are you saying it's not the *same* block that you had with everyone else?"

"Yes...? Kind of...?" Tim laughs helplessly. "Can we go back to saying that I have a lot of issues and leave it there?"

Kon nods. "It's cool. I mean -- just so you know? I *totally* don't mind. He's a whole different guy than I am. And I just..." Kon shakes his head. "It's *easier* to see what a different guy he is these days."

"Because of the way he's been hitting on you?"

"That, and living in Smallville, and living in Smallville with his *parents*, and visiting the Fortress all the time... all of it, you know? I'm *never* gonna be even a little like him, and the part of me that gets a little fucked-up about that is... smaller."

Tim grins. "*Good*."

"Yeah, yeah, you were right all along. Fucker. Wait, do you do that, at all?"

"Only with my girlfriend, so far --"

"Have you done it with the two of you in, like, uniform?" And Kon is nodding *hopefully*.

"Hn. Fantasy?"

"*Fuck*, yeah."

"I'll let her know... after you talk to Cassie."

Kon grunts, jaw dropping -- "She *does* that? Threesomes?"

"We did with Batman --"

"*Jesus*, Tim!"

Tim laughs softly. "It was... surprisingly easy. It helped that Batman was just watching and making suggestions for a while."

Kon *moans* --

And Tim raises an eyebrow. "Should we talk about something else?"

"Fuck, no, dude, we should keep talking about *this* while jerking *off*. That totally doesn't count as cheating."

Tim raises his eyebrow *higher* --

"I'm *right*," Kon says, backing off a step and opening his jeans, pulling himself out and squeezing. "*Fuck*. Please?"

Tim stares --

"Tim, c'mon, I *promise* I'll confess this, too --"

"I -- that wasn't why --" Tim swallows and shakes his head. "I've never seen you this hard before, and it's occurring to me that that's a problem."

Kon snorts. "Dude, you've totally seen me this hard."

"Kon --"

"I use my TTK to hide my hard-ons."

Tim blinks and looks *up* --

And Kon grins and waggles his eyebrows. "Check it," he says, and --

It's not quite tucking. It's just -- a cushion of ambiguity between Kon's penis and the world. Tim smiles helplessly. "Impressive. And exceedingly jealousy-inducing."

Kon breathes on his fingernails and buffs them on his shirt. "Best part? It doesn't fucking hurt even a *little*."

"Nice. Stop doing it."

"Uh. Was that an order?"

Tim licks his teeth -- and blushes. "Stop doing it... please?"

Kon snickers. "Nah, dude, *be* toppy. It's not like *that's* not a fantasy, too," and Kon releases his penis -- which bobs up impressively.

Beautifully. "Tell me more," Tim says, opening his belt and cataloguing Kon's penis for his memories. It's quite dark with blood, but Bruce gets much darker. The golden undertones are exceedingly present, but not as much as they were in that footage of Clark masturbating.

He's quite large --

Thick --

The vein is --

And he's leaking steadily. *Quickly*. Tim licks his lips --

And then realizes that Kon isn't actually speaking. Tim looks up and raises an eyebrow --

And Kon is staring at *him*.

"Yes?"

"You -- uh. You need to look at me like that all the time."

"I think it would be problematic if I addressed all of my comments and questions to your penis, Kon."

"Dude, no, you know what I'm talking about. Uh. Don't you?"

"I do, yes," and Tim smiles, letting it be as sharp as it wants to be --

Kon *grunts* -- "Dude, that look, too."

"Hn. I've often had this expression on my face when you weren't looking at me."

"God, see, this is *why* you're so fucked-up. If you'd let me *see* that look we could've been boning *years* ago," Kon says, and starts to stroke himself -- slowly. "C'mon, let me see you?"

Tim nods and sets his belt down -- gently. He pushes down his shorts and tights, his jock and boxer-briefs  --

Spares a moment to wonder *where* Clark is at the moment --

But it doesn't matter, truly, because when Kon sighs, Tim does, too --

And stroking himself fully hard takes... no time, at all.

Kon moans. "Uh. I was talking."

"Yes. You were telling me about -- hn. No. The jealousy fantasy. Tell me about that one."

Kon flushes -- blushes? -- and squeezes himself very, very hard.

"Do you always do that to yourself?"

"Uh. When I wanna last a little."

"Noted," Tim says, spreading his legs a little wider to give himself more balance -- his knees *will* buckle sooner or later -- and matching his stroke to Kon's --

"Oh. Fuck. Uh. *Please* tell me this is doing it for you --"

"Kon. I'm *erect*."

"Yeah, but --"

"It's doing it for me. *Exceedingly*," Tim says, and licks his teeth again. "I'm thinking about your hands, your aura, your mouth --"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck --"

"But mostly? I'm thinking about your voice. As you *tell* me things."

"I can do that! I -- it's stupid."

"*Talk*."

"Jesus, Rob, *okay*. Just -- you see me with another dude. Mostly it's another dude --"

"Where?"

"Some -- some club or something. It's not important, I *swear*," Kon says, licking his lips and staring at Tim's penis --

Perhaps at the leaking pre-come -- "*More*."

Kon groans. "You see me. You see me really puttin' it to the guy. Like -- I'm doing him or something. Mostly he's on his knees and I'm, you know, fucking his mouth --"

"You like that."

"Fuck, yeah."

"Hn. Look up."

"Uh. Do I have to?"

"Yes," Tim says, and then starts fucking his mouth with three fingers of his free hand. He raises an eyebrow --

And Kon's penis twitches impressively, spattering the roof. "Faster. Faster than that -- oh. Yeah. That -- just like that. Just -- fuck, Rob..."

Tim smiles around his fingers and pulls out. "More."

"You -- uh. In the *fantasy* you want it bad --"

"I do in real life, as well."

Kon moans *high* --

"I do, in fact, love sucking people off. And getting my mouth fucked. Go on."

Kon strokes himself *faster* --

"Slow down."

"Rob --"

"*Now*."

Kon grunts again -- and slows. "You *gotta* realize you're making this fantasy *real* damned difficult to believe in --"

"In most of my fantasies of you, you're fucking me very, very hard."

"Uh."

"And holding me down with your TTK."

Kon squeezes his eyes shut and twitches -- multiple times.

"That's exceedingly attractive --"

"So are *you*. *Jesus*. I mean -- uh. Where was I?"

"I was wanting it. *Badly*."

Kon bites his lip and -- that's absolutely a blush. "You -- uh. You rip the dude off my dick."

Tim grins. "Really."

"*Yes*. You -- uh."

"Do I injure him...?"

Kon looks at him from under his lashes. "Sometimes."

Tim licks his own lips. "Badly...?"

"I -- sometimes you really kick the shit out of the poor dude, Rob. Like, using *all* your moves. Including the one where you kick so high your balls squeak."

Tim laughs helplessly --

Moans for the way it *moves* things within him --

And moans again for the *fact* that Kon enjoys Tim's variety of vigilante pornography. Just -- "There are times when I'm convinced -- *mm* -- that I'm never more Robin than I am in your eyes."

Kon frowns in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Tim shakes his head. "It doesn't matter right now. It's just the fact that I'm not the kind of Robin my predecessors -- and my girlfriend -- were or are."

"You're *your* kind of Robin. And *my* kind of Robin --"

"And a *violent* kind of Robin, yes," Tim says, and strokes himself a little faster --

"Oh -- yeah, like that --" And Kon bites his lip again and matches him --

"You watch me hurt him."

"Yeah. Yeah --"

"You're... naked?"

"Yeah, I. I mean, sometimes I'm wearing -- mm -- the *top* of the uniform --"

"It's an old fantasy."

"Old as *fuck* --"

"Do you jerk off?"

"No, no, I just -- let it all hang out. Heh. You're totally gonna torture me for this fantasy, aren't you?"

Tim grins. "The future's not ours to see, Kon."

Kon snickers --

And Oracle hums. "You're welcome."

Tim grins *wider*. "When do I get to suck you?"

"Right *now* -- oh. Wait. Uh. In the fantasy?"

"Mm-hm..."

Kon licks his lips. "I... uh. I make you beg for it. Like... a lot."

Tim opens his mouth to pant -- "Can you take that?"

"No...?" Fuck, Rob, I can *try*."

"Please, Kon. Please let me suck you off --"

Kon moans and squeezes himself *viciously* --

"Let me -- mm. Let me taste you --"

"Rob --"

"Let feel you on my tongue. Let me -- *please* shove into my throat and fuck me -- "

"Nnh -- *please* --"

"Please, Kon. I'll do anything. You can. You can come in my mouth --"

"I want -- I want that --"

"You can come on my *face* --"

"*Rob* --" And Kon shakes his head and starts stroking himself faster --

*Faster* --

His hand's a *blur* --

Tim *considers* telling him to slow down... but. "It's a fantasy for me, too, Kon."

"Please -- fuck, please --"

"Begging for you. Dropping to my knees..." And Tim does just that --

Kon cries out *loudly* --

"Please, Kon. Please come for me. Let me *see* it --"

"Hnh -- nuh --" And Kon turns to the side *just* as the wind gives Tim his scent, so thick and *male* --

And Kon -- comes. On the roof.

One spatter after another --

And another --

And *another* --

Tim raises his eyebrows --

Kon *sways* on his feet -- "I need. I need --"

"You can have it --"

"Just --" And Kon catches what may or may not be the last spatter on his fingers --

Spins back to face Tim --

"Please?"

Tim smiles *slowly* -- and opens his mouth.

Kon grunts and bites his lip before pushing two slick-sticky fingers into Tim's mouth --

Tim *moans* --

Tim *sucks* --

"Oh -- God, Rob, you just -- do you like it?"

Tim nods and shoves his tongue between Kon's fingers, which only seem to be a normal temperature because the actual semen is very warm. Not *burning*, but --

No, the taste. The *taste*, because it's nothing like Lex, Dick, *or* Steph --

It's *heavier* than all of them somehow, and mineral-rich, and -- not sweet. Just... something else. Something... else.

Perhaps he'll just chalk it up to Kryptoniana --

Though that makes him want, very much, to get a larger sample. For now, though...

Tim pulls back and licks the rest of Kon's trembling hand clean --

"Rob..."

"Mm-hmm."

"I mean -- fuck. I've kinda been *calling* you Rob.... uh."

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Is that *okay*? I mean, some people get tweaked about --"

"It's all right," Tim says, and sucks on the tip of Kon's pinky. There's no semen there... but.

"Jesus, your mouth is just..." Kon swallows and shakes his head. "I really. Are you *sure* I can't suck you off?"

Tim closes his eyes --

"No, fuck -- I'm sorry --"

Tim pulls back and sits on his heels. "It's all right. We... *when* will you see Cassie?"

"A week, maybe. I -- *God*, I hope she's having a good time."

"The kind of good time which involves nudity would, of course, be preferable."

"*Yes*. But also..." Kon shakes his head again and drops to his own knees.

"Hello. Also?"

"Hey. I... just. Sometimes there's *friction* with Wonder Woman, you know? If she's all stressed-out, I'm not gonna spring *this* on her. I *couldn't*."

"That's perfectly sensible," Tim says, and *then* notices that he's squeezing his scrotum rather meanly. He releases himself -- gasps --

"Dude, I was wondering when you were gonna deal with that."

Tim laughs breathlessly and gasps several more times for the feeling of blood rushing back --

"Are you *okay*?"

Tim nods and points to his penis, which is twitching and leaking *vigorously* --

And Kon moans again. "Fucking hell, Rob, you just... you'll let me taste *you*, right?"

Tim nods again --

Gasps one more time --

Feels himself start to *sweat* --

And shudders. "All right, I think I can talk again --"

"Would it get you off if I begged? You know, like you did?"

Tim licks his lips and starts stroking himself again. "I..."

"Yeah?"

Tim shakes his head and uses his free hand to rub the head --

And then his hand just *is* in Kon's and he's breathing on Tim's fingers --

Breathing *in* Tim's fingers --

"Can I?"

Tim shivers and nods -- and the inside of Kon's mouth is *hot*, wet --

*Not* soft --

Tim moans and starts stroking himself faster --

Kon *reaches* -- and snatches his hand back before tugging Tim's hand out of his mouth. "C'mon, tell me how to make this good for you, Rob. *Please*."

"I -- and if I tell you it already is?"

"Then I say you need to fuck *more*. Seriously, *tell* me --"

"Tell me -- tell me what you think about when you think about fucking me."

Kon grunts again and squeezes himself. "Yeah?"

Tim nods, closes his eyes -- no. He focuses on Kon's eyes, which are *nearly* the same as Lex's, but so warm --

All the *time* --

"Please, Kon --"

"I -- uh. Okay, we're in my room in Smallville, right?"

Tim nods and pants --

"You -- you're at my desk, like. Looking over my homework and shit. You've got one hand planted and you're flipping through one of my notebooks and just -- speed-reading."

Tim laughs. "That's a kink?"

"Yes, it's a fucking kink, because you're human and you're not supposed to be able to *do* that as well you totally fucking can -- uh. Anyway."

"Yes?"

Kon licks Tim's *palm* --

Tim's fingers spasm entirely without Tim's permission --

The feeling spreads up his arm, and Tim wants --

"I want you, Kon --"

"You can *have* -- me. Uh. Right. You're wearing your uniform except for your cape, and so you look fucking *naked*."

"I feel naked without it. Always," and Tim squeezes himself and moans. "Kon. More. Faster."

"Yeah, yeah. I -- you start stripping. And you're doing it -- it's not a strip-tease or anything, but it's still *slow*, because you're doing it *while* you're reading. And, like, nodding along and shit, because somehow I managed to write something *smart* -- uh. Anyway. Please. Please rub the head a little more?"

Tim's breath hitches and he nods, teasing himself --

Pressing there --

Tapping on the slit with his fingernail --

"Do -- do that with the fake one?"

Tim grins and flushes, all over -- "Dirty. I like it," and Tim does it, feeling the high-grade plastic and *faint* sharpness --

The *ghost* of sensation where the meat of his fingertip used to be -- right now, it feels like he's tickling himself --

And Kon moans again. "You. You get naked. Everything gone but the *mask*, you know?"

"Oh -- Kon..."

"I -- you don't flip the lenses up."

"At all?"

"No, you. You make me work for it. My X-ray vision --"

Tim grunts --

"Fuck, you're -- you look horny. You look -- well, I used to think you'd just look *meaner*, but." Kon brings Tim's left hand to his mouth again --

*Licks* Tim's fingers --

"Your eyes. Your eyes would be wide like they are now."

"Nnh -- more."

"You. You're all flushed and. Fuck, Rob, I need --"

"It's all right --"

"*Together*," Kon says, and starts stroking himself again, stroking fast and *hard* --

"Kon, *yes* --"

"You smell so *good*. Just -- and you're using the *good* product tonight --"

Tim laughs and gasps -- squeezes --

*Kon* squeezes and moans -- "I rim you out first, dude. I just -- would you let me?"

"Yes --"

Kon moans and strokes faster. "You just -- you make a *lot* of noise. Moaning and. And calling my name."

"Kon. Kon, I *would* --"

"*Please* make more *noise* --"

"We're on a *rooftop* --"

"I'll *hear* anyone coming --"

"I --" Tim blushes and shakes his head --

"*Please*, Rob, I'll do -- God, anything you *want* --"

Tim pants -- and lets himself moan --

"Oh -- oh, *yeah* --"

Again --

"I slick you up. Really. Really *deep*. I use the TTK to get it in past where my fingers can go --"

"*Hnh* --"

"Fuck, you like that? You want --"

"*Yes*, Kon --"

"I can't -- I'm sorry," Kon says, and for a moment Tim's only *confused* --

But then hot, hard *nothing* is spreading Tim's ass --

Pressing on his *hole* --

"*Kon*!"

"I'm sorry, I'm fucking -- oh, Jesus, you're *swollen*!"

Tim nods and cries out --

And cries out *again* when Kon pushes *in* --

"*Please*!"

Kon is moaning and shuddering, leaking *heavily* -- "You feel so fucking *good* --"

Tim groans and *sways* -- but Kon's aura wraps Tim's whole chest under Tim's arms--

Holds him *upright* --

"Oh -- *yes* --"

"I've got you, Rob, I won't -- won't let go --"

"Please -- *please* --"

"Just had to be *in* you --"

"Ohn -- oh, *God* --" And Tim clenches helplessly --

"*Fuck* -- this rhythm, Rob, this is the one --"

"Hnh -- *hnh* -- *hnh* --"

"Oh, *yeah*, Tim, *do* it --"

And Tim can't -- can't think or breathe --

It's so *hard*, so --

He can't *tell* if it's the exact size of Kon's penis, or if it's just an approximation -- no. It would be exact. Kon would *need* it to be --

And maybe he knows that Tim needs it, too. Maybe --

Tim strokes himself faster and cries out --

Harder and he can't keep himself from *clenching* --

Kon throws his head back and *shouts*, pulse pounding in his throat --

And Kon's rhythm gets heavier and full of *shudders* --

Kon's aura is *moving* Tim now, sliding over his whole body except for his head --

Squeezing Tim's *throat* --

"*Kon*!"

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

"No, it's *good* -- I *need* you --"

Kon looks at him again, and his expression is almost *hurt*, needy and *shocked* --

"I've always -- always wanted --"

Kon gestures with his free hand --

And Tim grunts for the feel of something cupping and *pumping* his scrotum -- "*Kon* --"

"You *like* it --"

"I love it -- I love you --"

"*Come*, Rob --"

And Tim screams as Kon's aura squeezes harder and shoves *deeper* --

Tim gasps and tries to -- God, anything, but the fuck gets faster --

He can't *see* --

"*Please* --  *mm*!"

In his mouth --

In his *throat* --

And coming feels concussive, nearly *painful* --

Coming makes him shudder and *jerk* --

Kon doesn't *stop* --

And suddenly Tim's arms are at his sides and his penis is *engulfed* in Kon's aura --

Held and pumped in the same rhythm as the one on his scrotum --

In the same rhythm of the *endless* fuck --

Tim wants to *scream* again, but all he can do is slump and twitch --

"*Unh* --"

*Every* part of him gets squeezed --

And Tim opens his eyes in time to see Kon coming all over --

The aura covering him.

Well. That's --

Black --

Oh, air would be a *good* idea. How...?

Black --

Tim bites *down* --

Kon ejaculates *again* --

And then Tim is free -- and *empty* -- and a great deal of semen falls to the rooftop between them.

Kon slumps and groans.

Tim breathes. That was... wonderful. Unexpected. *Problematic* --

There's something rather excessively awful about the metaphor of it, as well: Tim is clean except for the roof grit on his tights, while Kon has a surprisingly large amount of Tim's semen on his shirt.

So -- damage control. There has to be some way to...

Something.

Something --

Something other than admitting to Cassie that they'd made love? Really?

Tim laughs somewhat painfully and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Dude, laugh *better*."

"I -- ah. Kon."

"I mean -- it's not *your* fault --"

"I didn't stop you --"

"*Could* you have?"

Tim lets his expression twist. "Being as how you're not a *rapist*, I'd have to answer that question in the *affirmative*."

"Dude, no, seriously, I shoved it in and you *lost* it," Kon says, and there are air currents doing something to Tim's hair --

Fixing it. "I could've said *no*, Kon."

"Seriously?" And *then* Kon looks up, smiling wryly and *skeptically* --

And Tim really has to admit that he has a point. "All right, fine, but it's still both of our faults --"

"No way, Tim."

"I -- no more 'Rob?'"

"Nah, not now that my dick is finally getting a little *soft*," Kon says, and pokes it. "A little."

"Kon --"

"I'm taking all the blame for this one, Tim. Seriously."

Tim frowns. "I shouldn't have let us masturbate together --"

"Friends are totally allowed to *do* that. It's a whole cultural thing, dude. I was programmed with it and everything."

Tim stares at Kon.

"What?"

"I -- nothing. No, wait, has Lex *talked* to you about what went into his decision-making process for what you were programmed with?"

"Uh... no? Should I ask him?"

"Yes, I think so."

Kon frowns. "People *don't* jerk off with their friends?"

"Not especially often, no."

"And you're sure about this? Like, this isn't just you being a geek?"

"It *does* happen, but usually in terms of sexual exploration. Say... two or more friends experimenting with their sexualities."

Kon nods thoughtfully. "And *not* just, you know, trying to be good."

"Exactly."

Kon nods more -- but then stops and shakes his head. "All you were doing was telling me a fantasy while I was doing the same. We could've *kept* doing that if I hadn't lost my mind for you. No, when I talk to Cassie, I'm taking the full blame. And telling her everything."

Tim sighs. "I -- can't stop you. But I won't be giving you all the blame if and when she wants to talk to *me* about it."

"That's fair," Kon says, standing and fixing his clothes before gesturing --

And Tim is up and dressed save for his belt -- which everyone on his team knows not to touch -- and his gauntlets. "Hn. Well done."

"Jock's in place and everything?"

"Oh, yes."

"God, I rule."

"Amazingly enough... I agree," Tim says, fastening his belt and pulling on his gauntlets. When he's done, he grips Kon's forearm.

Kon grips his own. "Yeah? Wait, this isn't how you cuddle, is it?"

Tim snorts. "No. But it is how I cuddle on *rooftops*."

"Hey, *you're* the one who wanted to bang up here, dude. I was just an innocent waif, caught in your... uh... clutches."

"Mm. I do like them young."

Kon smacks the back of Tim's head with his aura -- and smacks Tim's ass with his hand.

"Really."

"Yes, *really* -- wait."

"Yes?"

"*Are* you hot for Bart?"

Tim smiles, tilting his head to the side. "What do you think?"

"I *think* that sometimes you give him seriously *dark* looks where your face is all blank and your lenses are down but I can still see that you're narrowing your eyes. You *never* look at *anyone* else like that."

"Not true. I look at my girlfriend that way when she's sleeping."

"Uh."

"Hn. Yes. She usually wakes up and curses me rather extravagantly for it. While smacking me."

"So... you want Bart to be your boyfriend? You wanna watch him sleep? What?"

"I would like... to fuck him blind."

"Uh."

"Yes. Nightwing found this exceedingly strange and perverse --"

"Well --"

"I would like to take this time to point out that you have fantasies about me brutalizing random gay men for the right to perform fellatio on you."

Kon closes his mouth.

Tim releases Kon's forearm and pats his cheek instead. "Good boy."

"Aw, dude, fuck you."

"Hn. We *could*... but only with your aura --"

"I *know*. You're fucking *raw* inside." Kon frowns. "And that was seriously *both* Lex and Batman?"

"Yes. I like to be fucked very, very hard --"

"I *noticed* --"

"-- but, for the record? I *will* be healed enough for another reaming within twenty-four hours."

Kon grunts. "Dude. A *week*."

Tim blinks -- "I... had forgotten again. I'm sorry --"

"It's okay, it's okay. Uh. You really got off on that."

"Your aura has always -- *always* -- excited me."

"And... all the times you were training me to use it better?"

"I *was* thinking of tactical uses... but I was also thinking of other uses. Extensively."

"See, you gotta *share* thoughts like that."

Tim grins. "All right. I will," and Tim leans in and kisses Kon softly --

"Oh, wait," Kon says, stepping back -- and sucking on his stained shirt. "*Mmm*, fuck, that's -- Jesus, you're -- mmm..."

Tim laughs softly. "I suppose it won't be *hugely* obvious what sort of stain that is now."

"Uh, huh."

Tim strokes Kon's bare abdomen with his gauntleted fingers --

Kon *thrusts* --

"I -- sorry."

"Uh, huh," and Kon *slurps* -- "Damn, all I can taste is cotton now." He sighs and pulls his shirt back down. "Crime?"

"Please."

"You got it, Rob."

Kon takes him to a large-scale drug transfer at the docks that none of their informants had seen fit to mention, and Tim proceeds to do assorted mean things to Russians who, in turn, try to perforate him.

The cape takes a great deal of damage from automatic weapons fire, but Tim winds up not needing Kon's help, which is... satisfying. On a number of levels. In the end, he can't let Kon destroy the guns, but he *can* let him carry the ship container full of evidence to Central.

After that, Kon takes him to a mugging in progress, and Tim continues the tradition of treating Gotham muggers like the potential destroyers of childhoods they are.

After *that*, he has Kon find several crackhouses for him so that he can make his weekly attempt to talk people into Gotham's sad handful of walk-in clinics. He gets four takers -- out of dozens -- and *they* get the opportunity to fly in ways which don't, generally, end in brain damage.

After *that*... Tim decides to work with the intel he'd already gathered and has Kon fly him directly into Club G -- he waves at T-Rod -- and, between them, they make several of the low- and mid-level dealers 'Spence Hollingsworth' had marked out for attention whimper, cry, bleed, and urinate on themselves.

And tell them where the higher-ups can be found.

*That* turns out to be a rather more popular club in the warehouse district which tends to get any number of actors, athletes, and models. Tim is mean to everyone in the VIP area, and then has Kon spin his targets around in circles until they vomit on themselves. It's an amazingly effective -- if disgusting -- way to keep them from getting too frisky while they wait for the police.

And an excellent way to destroy their cachet of coolness.

Once the police arrive, Tim gives them a quick and dirty rundown of the scheme, and a partial list of the other clubs which had been receiving the wrong sort of attention from the organization. He promises them more information as he gets it --

And then Kon takes them back to Club G and insists that Tim dance with him --

Which is just the sort of thing that Robin really shouldn't do --

Certainly, he shouldn't be doing it this *happily* --

Except that Kon is using all the smoke to build a bubble through which no clear pictures can be taken --

And, at the end of the night, T-Rod joins them both, taking the middle and showing them *both* how to *really* dance.

Tim promises to bring the *other* Robin next time --

Kon gets T-Rod's phone number --

And, somehow abruptly, it's six in the morning. They hug T-Rod, and, when Kon dissipates the bubble, the club is all but empty. Which...

He's really going to have to remember the large amount of time which can pass while he's in the process of having fun --

Alternately, he could *keep* having fun and not worry about it overmuch.

On the third hand -- and Tim would never judge people formed that way -- he could work to find a middle ground between the two standpoints. Said middle ground *absolutely* includes things like Kon flying them through several clouds before taking them to a Swift bank which is in the process of having its vault burrowed into from below.

One of the perils of building *anything* in Gotham is that there's simply no telling when some criminal somewhere will remember the *warren* of abandoned and semi-abandoned tunnels just beneath the surface.

The burrowers turn out *not* to be fiscally-minded Morlocks, which is disappointing to the part of Tim which is somewhat stoned on life -- and possibly on whatever was in that smoke bubble -- but ultimately useful, as Morlocks would've almost certainly been harder to take down.

They leave the robbers zip-stripped and helpfully labeled for the police, and then Kon flies them up --

And up --

Tim gasps -- and raises an eyebrow. "Kon."

"Heh. Needed to hear that sound again, dude."

"Noted. But I'm late."

"For home? I'll fly you --"

"For my date with Lex."

"You... are totally going to do him *right* after doing me."

"It's been several hours -- all right, no, I do see what you're saying... but."

Kon snorts. "*Is* he your type? More your type than other people are?"

"More emotionally and intellectually than physically... but he has a very, very nice body."

Kon nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess he's always been pretty fit for a civilian."

"I believe he works himself hard in part to prove that one doesn't need to be Super in order to be... perfect."

"Uh."

"Yes, it does make it rather hilarious that his son is *half* Super."

"Um... both of his sons."

Tim blinks. "You're going to have a brother?"

"I -- uh. I've always wanted one, and I asked, and -- he said he would. And Clark said he *could*, and -- anyway. They're already working on him," Kon says, and scrubs a hand back over his hair.

Well. That's -- wonderful. In every way. Tim smiles and hugs Kon. "Congratulations."

Kon grins. "You don't think it's weird or anything?"

"No, I don't."

"Well -- okay. Heh. You're totally gonna bone my brother, too, aren't you."

"It really does depend on his *personality*, Kon."

"Uh, huh. *Anything* you say," Kon says, and flies them low enough that Tim can catch his breath again --

And strokes and squeezes Tim through his clothes --

"Tim."

"Yes?"

"It's totally weird that you're going to be boning one of my fathers tonight. It just is."

"I really don't think temporal proximity should make that much of a difference, Kon."

"Maybe not? But it totally does. Like -- I *know* the majority would be with me on that one."

Tim hums noncommittally --

Kon *snickers* --

And then they're on the roof of the Chilton, and Kon's aura is flowing away from Tim again. Another wonderful use of his power -- considering the fact that Tim's damaged cape wouldn't have been much protection at that speed.

"One sec," Kon says, and flies over the side of the building -- presumably to let Lex know he has visitors --  and then he's back and kissing Tim, licking Tim's mouth and kissing *harder* --

Tim bites Kon's lip --

Kon moans and cups Tim's face with both hands, making the kiss deeper and *sweeter*, somehow -- no. The kiss is *slower*, and demands that Tim take his time about licking Kon's tongue, and nibbling it. It isn't a difficult demand to follow -- not even once Lex steps out onto the roof and laughs at them with quietly *wry* amusement.

Tim sucks Kon's tongue --

And Kon pulls back. "Okay, so you really are..." Kon shakes his head and snickers before turning to Lex. "Sorry, I totally needed to know whether Tim was *really* this *icy* about the fact that he's boning both of us tonight."

Lex inclines his head. "A worthy question to ask. Will you both be coming in?"

"Nah. There's some fried chicken in the fridge back home that I pretty much need right now, Lex. Plus, I need to be out of range of the sounds Tim's gonna make."

Tim narrows his eyes --

And Kon moans. "I also need to be out of range of looks like that." 

"Hn." And Tim pulls on one of his professional expressions --

Kon sighs. "Now I know those are all *fake*, dude. But I appreciate the effort," he says, and turns back to Lex. "Metropolis at the end of the week?"

"Yes. Though, if you'd like, we could meet at Hephaestus...?"

Kon grins. "Rock!" And he hugs Lex --

And he hugs *Tim* --

"I'm out," he says, and flies.

Tim watches him go until he's simply a darker smudge on the pale morning sky.

"How *is* your distance vision?"

"Perfect -- for human standards. There are some signs that I'll become near-sighted as I age, though. My father did."

Lex nods and strokes the line of Tim's jaw, pausing to lift Tim's chin on his finger. "I don't actually want to think of you losing a contact lens while you're fighting for your life."

"Hn. I'd be much more likely to put corrective lenses in my masks -- and carry extras -- for just that reason."

"How much punishment can those masks take?"

"I'd rather not be shot in the eye -- but the lenses are, in fact, bulletproof."

Lex's eyes -- flare.

Tim steps closer. "Sorry I'm late. Kon insisted on dancing with me at Club G."

Lex raises an eyebrow. "How did you wind up making love with him?"

"I told him how I felt about him... and, for the first time, *didn't* stop him when the conversation turned sexual."

"I... am not surprised it was that easy for you. Or for him," Lex says, and smiles. "I did tell him that I had no problem with it."

"Yes, he e-mailed that little tidbit to me yesterday. How are you?"

"Well-rested and in love. Who did that to your cape?"

"One of the Russian mobs. Kon overheard a large-scale drug deal going down and took me there."

"And didn't *help*?"

"Hn. Not -- strictly -- allowed, in Gotham. I didn't need him for that -- the cape is *meant* to take that sort of punishment."

Lex nods thoughtfully. "Come inside...?"

"Of course," Tim says, and gestures for Lex to lead the way -- so he can watch the man walk.

Well, no it's far more of a *stride* than anything else, confident and sure --

"When did you learn that walk?"

"When I was sixteen, I finally stopped growing too fast to make it work," and Lex leads them inside. "When did you learn yours?"

"Which one?"

"Hmm. Good question. For now... the quiet stealth you're using at the moment."

"Does it make the space between your shoulder blades itch?"

"Yes."

Tim grins. "Good. I learned it when I was nine, and perfected it at thirteen. I have, to date, had only steady -- and slow -- growth. I've missed a great deal of the awkwardness."

"Noted," Lex says, and leads them to the bar -- no, the small refrigerator. He pulls out a large-ish bowl of what looks to be yogurt, and another bowl of fruit. "Low-fat, I promise."

"Shall I eat it at the bar?"

"Only if you'd like to."

"Then... bedroom, please."

Lex inclines his head again and carries the bowls with him. "What do I have to do to get you to take your -- uniform off?"

And *that* -- was *almost* 'costume.' Almost. Tim smiles. "You've done it."

"Oh, yes?"

"Days ago."

Lex gives him a hotly narrow look from over his shoulder. "You should always, always tease *precisely* like that, darling."

"Hn. Noted."

Lex takes the tray from his own breakfast and puts the bowls on it before moving them to the bed.

Tim closes the door behind him -- restraints. *On* the door. They're designed to attach to squared-off metal brackets which fit neatly -- nearly perfectly -- over the top and bottom of the door. Anyone tied to them would be neatly -- if shallowly -- spread-eagled.

The restraints themselves are thick synthetic fabric straps which end in soft, sturdy cuffs, and --

"Mercy...?"

"Usually. Though I set those up for you when I woke up this morning."

Tim nods and shivers. And tests the cuffs -- he'd be able to get out of them. If he wanted to.

"Darling."

"Ah... yes?"

"We could put you in those right now."

"You want me to *eat*."

"I," Lex says, stepping close and loosening his tie, "am willing to feed you."

"I -- is that a kink?"

"Not yet. Though I imagine you could turn it into one... quickly."

Tim -- doesn't bite his lip. "Why did you dress so formally?"

Lex looks down at himself. He's wearing the tie, a dress shirt, grey suit pants which make his eyes seem more blue, and simple -- tasteful -- dark dress shoes. "This is how I dress every day, Tim."

"I -- true."

"But I knew you were coming and thus should've stayed in my robe...?"

Tim licks his lips. "It's not that I mind the look, but... well."

Lex smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I woke up at five. If I spend more than forty-five minutes awake without getting dressed... I become somewhat tense."

"No long, leisurely mornings spent in bed...?"

"Not as a general rule. For you, of course, I'd give it a try," Lex says, and strokes Tim's cheek. "Strip...?"

Tim closes his eyes and starts doing so. Cape, then boots, then socks. Belt, then tunic, then shorts. T-shirt, then tights, then jock, then --

"Wait, please."

Tim raises an eyebrow with his thumbs hooked into the waist of his boxer-briefs.

Lex smiles again. "I find I want to enjoy the sight of you in that sort of underwear."

"Hn. You and Steph both."

"She finds your gaffs disturbing?"

"She's always wanted to coddle my penis."

Lex smiles at Tim's groin *fondly*. "I understand the urge. *Is* it possible for you to work effectively in a gaff?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure if I want to encourage that sort of thing in myself. Still, I'll be testing the matter with Barbara when I have time."

Lex nods and cups Tim's face. "Beautiful."

"I agree."

"You enjoyed my son."

"Immensely."

"Tell -- hm."

"Yes, Lex...?"

"I'm not sure if I want to know what you did with him or not."

"How open is he with you?"

"Exceedingly. I believe he'd tell me without hesitating."

"Then I suggest you ask him about it."

"Yes...?"

Tim smiles ruefully. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself from using it to try to turn you on. I don't think either of us really wants that."

Lex takes a deep breath. "Very true. Restraints?"

"I'm... not sure I want that this morning."

"That's fair. Come to bed with me?"

"Happily."

Lex leads him there with a hand at the small of his back, and Tim crawls on and kneels near the right side of the head, taking the tray and beginning to mix the berries into the yogurt.

Creaminess issues aside --

The fact that he's *not* eating this amount of *ice* cream --

Tim takes his first bite and hums. The berries are a little too cold for his tastes, but he's not complaining in the slightest. "How was your meeting today?"

"Dull. Predictable. Irritating -- and successful. I renewed the board's faith in my leadership abilities and reassured them with the fact that I'd be returning to Metropolis soon," Lex says, taking off his shoes and socks and sitting back against the headboard with his left foot planted and his left arm resting on that knee.

Tim looks --

Tim enjoys the *view* -- and smiles. "You'll be missed."

"Darling... you don't have to miss me, at all."

"Lex."

Lex sighs. "Yes, yes, your vocation is your vocation. Hm. *Are* you an adrenaline junkie?"

"I do have some of those qualities... but not many, ultimately. I tend to make my fights as unfair as possible and my *flights* as safe as possible -- and not just because that was how I was trained."

Lex nods thoughtfully. "Nightwing is the showy one."

"He's a born performer," Tim says, and takes another spoonful. 

"That *would* make sense with his background. Tell me what counts as an unfair fight?"

"Stealthy approach, immediate removal of the target's ability to move effectively, application of debilitating pain in at least two ways. If the target is a trained martial artist or a powerful metahuman who is nonetheless built on a human *standard*... I use some of the things Lady Shiva taught me when I was fourteen."

"There just isn't *anyone* out there who believes in letting children have non-violent childhoods, is there."

"Hn. I'm almost certain that there'd be *more* people like that..."

"If there were fewer people like *me*, yes, I know," Lex says, and scowls. "I'm working on it."

"Mm-hm."

"When Bruce took down Thorne all those years ago, the *rest* of us became a great deal more *careful*."

Tim nods and takes a few more spoonfuls --

"You're actually *hungry*," Lex says, and glares at him.

Tim smiles ruefully and presses a raspberry against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, crushing it slowly and thoroughly. Mm.

"Do you not eat at all while you're patrolling?"

Tim holds up a finger and eats --

And eats --

And eats some of the berries plain --

Especially the perfectly wonderful blueberries --

And, once he's halfway through both bowls, he pauses and breathes. "I... forgot to eat my mid-patrol snacks," Tim says, and offers another rueful smile.

"Because you were fucking my son?"

"That... was definitely one of the factors."

Lex raises an eyebrow. "What were the others?"

"Bruce laid something of a bombshell on us tonight. Apparently, Dent knows the secret -- and *has* known the secret since before his *first* break."

Lex tenses. "You're joking."

Tim shakes his head. "Apparently, the Harvey parts of his personality protect the knowledge from the Two-Face parts. The only thing that makes it through the wall -- or whatever the psychological construct looks like -- is an unreasoning hatred of Bruce's partners based on jealousy which is only *slightly* terrifying in the Harvey parts of his mind."

"And Bruce kept that from you."

"Until tonight, yes," Tim says, and stirs in more berries. "To be fair -- though I truly don't wish to be --"

"Then *don't*. That's the kind of idiocy that gets people messily *killed*!"

"With two bullets to the head, even," and Tim sighs and brings the bowl of yogurt to his face and breathes in. The berries have a sweetly intoxicating scent, while the yogurt has a bright sharpness. The flavor -- without the berries -- is rather shockingly reminiscent of certain parts of Steph's anatomy, which is the sort of metaphor which will make breakfast exciting for years to come. "In any event... Clark knew that Dent knew, as well."

"And you're quite sure I can't kill him."

"Kon would be terribly disappointed in you," Tim says, lowering the bowl and eating more.

"And you, darling...?"

"I... am inclined toward filling Dent with tracers and sitting on him for the rest of his life."

Lex raises an eyebrow at him, and... well. It's not a difficult question to discern.

Tim licks the spoon. "No, I don't want him dead."

"Why not?"

Tim meets Lex's eyes. "I love Bruce too much for that."

"Not very heroic reasoning."

"I'm not -- always -- a very heroic person. Bruce, Dick, and Steph are the only people I know who don't do that kind of hierarchical thinking as a matter of course, but... well. This is where I go back to letting the more moral people make the decisions."

"Even when they make the decisions based on their emotions more than their oh-so-vaunted morality?"

"Well. I'm not saying I plan to follow Bruce blindly -- I never have and I never will -- but it's not like he plays fast and loose with the lives of the criminals he's *not* in love with."

"In -- still."

"Now, then, and forever."

"And Nightwing puts up with this."

Tim waves a hand and eats more yogurt --

"If you finish that, I'll whip you."

Tim -- licks his lips.

Considers --

Studies what's left in the bowl -- oh. Tim winces and shakes his head.

Lex frowns. "You're not hurt."

"No, I'm not -- and I can't be. My territory has gone too long without me."

"I *am* capable --"

"Of not listening when I beg you for more, faster, and harder?"

"You don't even know what sort of whipping you'd *like*."

"I can make an educated *guess*, Lex."

"Give it a try."

Tim raises an eyebrow.

Lex blinks -- "That wasn't an order."

"Hn. No...?"

"No, it wasn't. It was -- a heartfelt plea...?"

Tim laughs with his mouth open this time, and -- hm. "Do you want it because you want it... or because you want to watch me eat more?"

"I don't believe in *limiting* myself, darling."

"I see. I... if it was limited."

"Yes?"

"I mean -- if we set the ground rules from the beginning... it might be doable."

"No bruises. No hard strikes to the cock or sac. No bleeding," Lex says, ticking off points on his fingers and raising an eyebrow.

"And... if it were *only* my back and ass and thighs, perhaps."

"Yes...?"

Tim -- flushes. And licks the spoon again.

"Oh, darling. Do tell me more."

"Hn... well. It always seemed like the sort of thing which could really make a person *feel* like a slave."

Lex curls the fingers of his right hand in to a certain extent, scratching the duvet.

Tim stares at that hand --

"Is that what you want...?"

"I'm not... entirely sure. Let me think more about it while I eat."

"Of course," Lex says, opening his belt and tugging it out of the loops, examining the leather *precisely* like a connoisseur.

Tim considers *not* asking --

Tim punches himself internally for being an *idiot* --

"What does that sort of flogging do?"

Lex frowns. "This belt is a trifle too thick for our purposes, darling. If I wasn't *rigidly* careful with *every* stroke, I would bruise and probably cut you. I wasn't truly considering it."

*He* is -- "Ah... I am."

Lex smiles at him *hotly*. "In that case, I'll be sending Bruce a thank-you note just as soon as he lets you take another vacation."

Tim laughs helplessly and eats more yogurt. "Tell me more about various whips and flails...?"

"A thinner belt with softly-finished edges would work very well for our purposes, but I didn't bring any of those with me. However, if you'll recall, I had Mercy buy us a *light* scourge -- leather, twenty 'tails' -- which would *also* work."

Tim licks his lips.

Lex narrows his eyes. "Darling. Am I topping you?"

"I -- do you want to?"

"Of course."

Tim nods and takes another two spoonfuls -- he's almost to the point where he'll have to scrape. "I'm quite sure I'd enjoy it --"

"So am I."

Tim looks at Lex from under his lashes. "Not for the first whipping."

"You might find the whipping easier --"

"I don't want it to be easy, Lex. I want it to be... itself."

Lex nods thoughtfully. "I've never whipped someone *outside* of a D/s context."

"Variety is the spice of life...?"

"Watching you make out with my son was certainly a *kind* of spice."

Tim pauses and raises an eyebrow. "Are you *sure* you don't mind?"

Lex smiles ruefully. "To be perfectly honest... a part of me felt the need to urge Kon to make a play for you out of my usual and rather pathetic fear of being replaced by someone... enhanced."

Tim lets his expression be sour. Very, very sour.

Lex laughs. "Are you saying you *never* feel obsolete? Out of your... league?"

"Batman *saves* the League -- and thus the *planet* -- on a regular basis, Lex. I feel far more out of my depth with *him* than I do with *any* superpowered hero."

"You're serious."

"*Yes*, Lex, I'm serious. *You* dated the man -- you know what he's like."

Lex looks pained, but doesn't say anything right away, so Tim finishes his yogurt, eats the last few berries plain, and goes to the bathroom.

There is, in fact, a new toothbrush and a handful of other toiletries for him -- or, to be fair, some other deeply bitchy Gothamite Lex just hasn't seen fit to tell him about, yet -- and Tim uses them.

There's a new straight razor, as well, but his cheeks are actually downy at this stage in his shaving cycle.

And Kon had left the hair on top of his head -- perfect. Tim entertains a brief fantasy of encouraging Kon to become a stylist for his civilian life -- hm.

Meeting new people, getting the chance to *talk* to those new people and touch them while everyone watches TV or movies --

Kon might actually *love* that.

Tim keeps thinking about it as he walks back out into the bedroom and starts to stretch --

Lex *still* looks pained -- hm.

"Do I need to be jealous of Bruce?"

"You *need*... to be exactly as brilliant and rational as you are."

"I think I can handle that," Tim says, and drops into a split.

"You also need to do that... often."

"Hn. I'm never introducing you to Dick."

"That's probably for the best, as he almost certainly wants to do something mean-spirited to me for getting you *first*," Lex says, and pulls the scourge out of the drawer.

"He told me that he can't look at a picture of you without thinking of the bald pedophile he and his extended circus family beat the hell out of when he was a tween."

Lex scowls. "That's." Lex scowls more *deeply* -- "I haven't been attracted to anyone under sixteen since I *was* sixteen."

"I believe you," Tim says, and stretches over his legs.

"How was it with Dick?"

"Wonderful and repeatable. Not... particularly emotionally shattering."

"Despite the fact that you've been in love with him since you were a toddler...?"

"Mm-hm. I'll always be in love with him, but I've grown out of the need to be... hn. His True Love."

Lex cocks his head to the side and studies him.

"Yes, Lex?"

"Are you ever female in your fantasies about him?"

"The women he's been seriously romantically involved with..." Tim shakes his head. "An alien princess. An Amazon. *Batgirl*. *Oracle*. I strongly suspect my inner female knew all along that she'd never be able to compete. Or... something like that. I'm always male with him, even in the fantasies where I have breasts. He's capable of *pulling* my inner male out of me even when I've been feeling entirely... other."

"And he doesn't do it on purpose...?"

"He never, ever would. Not consciously, anyway. He *is* rather invested in me as his little brother, but as soon as he knew that my gender was rather more *fluid* than that... well."

"A paragon."

"Oh, yes."

"I can't tell you how much it frustrates *and* excites me that I'll never be able to be less than *great* with you lest I risk *losing* you."

"Lex."

"Are you *arguing* that?"

"No. I'm pointing out that *all* of your lovers require that from you. *Including* the one you don't actually make love with."

Lex frowns. "That's different."

Tim raises an eyebrow and does his upper-body stretches.

Lex sighs. "The great man I am with my *Virtues* is allowed to give in to rage, jealousy, pettiness... et cetera."

"Not with *them*."

"Not most of the time, no. But *you* would punish me horribly for giving into those things with *anyone*."

"I answer to a higher authority...?"

Lex looks appropriately horrified.

"Hn. Kidding. Mostly."

"You *don't* worship the man."

"The man? No. The icon... sometimes."

Lex sneers impressively.

Tim grins *helplessly*. "Do you have any *idea* how *many* times he's saved the world?"

"How many times have *you* done that?"

"A few. And always with help."

"Oh -- science."

"Yes, Lex?"

"I was thinking... I was thinking, earlier, about how much I used to long to grow *up* with Bruce, and be at his side through his twenties and thirties as he grew in wisdom and personal *force*. It was an actual *ache* in me -- for *decades* -- to watch him spiral down and down."

Tim frowns. "That -- you loved him that much."

"Of *course* I did. And if you'd known the warm, giving, loving, *innocent* boy he used to be, you would've loved him, too. And, knowing you, corrupted him utterly."

"Lex."

"Darling, *I* used to *believe* in innocence. There were any *number* of times when I censored myself around him *solely* to keep him from learning anything *too* awful about humanity from *me*."

"That's dangerous."

"It is, yes. Innocence..." Lex shakes his head and stands, moving to loom over Tim to a certain extent.

"Yes, Lex?"

"This world isn't *good* enough for innocence -- or innocents. It certainly isn't *safe* enough for them."

"You spent decades making sure of it."

"Yes, I did. And it was even one of my motivations. I didn't want... of course I was angry at Bruce for not being able to forgive me -- and for *being* able to dump me so easily and thoroughly," Lex says, and drops into a crouch. "Only a truly innocent man can do that sort of thing."

By the time Jason came along...

Cassandra --

Bruce hasn't been innocent for a long time. Tim nods and turns over onto his knees to stretch his back --

And Lex strokes a path down Tim's spine. "You're stunning."

"You've mentioned."

"You... when did you lose your innocence?"

"When I realized that a part of me wanted to be Batgirl. When I realized that Jason would never kiss me. When I realized that I creeped Dick out. When I realized that Bruce would never love me."

Lex presses on the base of Tim's spine -- "They were everything you wanted."

"They were," Tim says, and kicks back to stretch his glutes, "my *life*."

"And they still are."

Tim smiles at Lex from over his shoulder. "There are other aspects."

"What would happen if all of them rejected you utterly?"

"I... would consider suicide."

"Tim --"

"I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I wouldn't actually *do* it -- I don't believe in suicide -- but the thought would occur. And occur. And occur."

Lex sighs and reaches to massage the back of Tim's neck. "All right. What then?"

"I... if I ever did anything that made my family reject me, then the Titans would almost certainly reject me, as well --"

"Kon is in *love* with you --"

"*Kon* is one of the single most moral people on the *planet*. I won't say that he *couldn't* be turned, but..." Tim shakes his head and kicks back with his right leg. "It would destroy a large part of him. I don't think I'm capable -- of allowing that to happen." Except --

"What about that was a lie, darling?"

"Ah... the Titans saw a future where I had almost certainly done just that. I was the Batman -- a Batman who had lost at least *two* Robins -- and the Titans I was part of were just... awful. Murdering, totalitarian scum -- and the enemies of any number of other vigilantes. Some of the various criminals and assassins had even teamed up with the other vigilante teams in order to bring us down. That Batman -- my future self -- did everything in his power to turn me..." Tim shakes his head and stands up to do quick and dirty quad stretches. "He wanted to 'save me' from the mistakes I would make."

Lex narrows his eyes and stands, as well. "And which mistakes were those?"

"Liberalism, mostly. Allowing recidivists to live without, at the very least, crippling injuries. Allowing my allies on the police force to dictate policy. That sort of thing. That Tim was... pretty far around the proverbial bend from losing Steph and... well, her name was Carrie. He didn't show me a picture of her." Tim stops stretching and rolls his head on his neck. "It was abundantly clear to me that he was desperate to save me -- and thus himself -- from pain, and that he'd spent a significant fraction of time coming up with what-ifs... well. I used anger and contempt to make him lose the thread a little -- it was also clear that he expected and wanted me to be the person who played in determinedly *thoughtful* shades of grey -- and then... we made it out. And I decided to *mostly* not think about it."

"That... is unlike you."

Tim smiles, strips out of his boxer-briefs, and moves to the door, cuffing his ankles and his left hand. "If you would do the honors...?"

"Of course, darling. But tell me more...?"

"I'm not always going to be Robin... as opposed to a vigilante who works mostly out of the Cave --"

"Don't *capitalize* --"

"That's a fight you won't win, so you might as well surrender with honor. Darling."

Lex snorts and cuffs his right wrist, then squeezes *both* wrists. "How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly relaxed. Or -- well. *Not* so surprisingly, given that Bruce drilled into me the need to approach escape situations with as little uncontrolled tension as possible, and... well. Also considering the fact that you're allowed to *know* that."

"Noted, darling. You can get out of this easily, so... stay relaxed."

"Hn. As you say. Anyway, there are rules Robin *has* to follow lest Robin loses effectiveness on the street. I don't plan on keeping to *all* of those rules."

"And your new code-name?"

"Flamebird is tempting -- and available. Other names I'm still mulling."

"Shouldn't Flamebird be partnered with Nightwing?"

Tim smiles again -- and shivers for the feel of Lex stroking his back, ass, and thighs with the scourge.

Slowly.

"Certainly... ah. Dick and Clark have their hopes."

"Kent wants a threesome with you and Dick -- all right, ultimately, I'm unsurprised. *Are* you going to have sex with him?"

"Someday, yes. I might not even make him rape me."

Lex snorts. "What *had* happened to Clark in that dystopia?"

"Kon killed him on my orders."

Lex -- freezes.

Tim can see it out of the corner of his eye. "I really don't intend to let that happen, Lex. If the man ever needs to be taken down for the good of the world, *I'll* do it."

"I... honestly have no idea what to say to... any of that."

"Hn. Perhaps we should table the discussion for now."

Lex's laugh is soft and somewhat... cracked. "Tim."

"Yes, Lex?"

"*How* would you take Clark down?"

"There's kryptonite all over the world. Beyond that... well. 'With no prior warning,' is, I think, the best answer to that question."

"Would you --"

"Lex."

"Darling, you have to let me --"

"I truly don't."

Lex kisses Tim's temple. "You're absolutely right. Please don't take my son with you when you decide to stop being a force for good."

"Lex."

"It's only... I have a *type*, Tim."

"*Lex*."

Lex's laugh is stronger this time. He's almost *choking* on it.

Tim starts to dislocate his thumbs --

And Lex grips Tim's wrists again, pressing the handle of the scourge against Tim's right forearm. "Please don't do that."

"If you're not in the mood --"

"I am *absolutely* in the mood, darling. It's only... well. What does your family say about your plans?"

"They're not thrilled about them -- they seem to think I plan to *go* somewhere, despite everything I tell them to the contrary -- but... it's my choice. And it's what I need."

"Some of what you need," Lex says, and kisses Tim's ear.

"Oh, so you *are* getting your confidence back."

Lex hums. "I remembered just how compelling Bruce could be even when still and utterly naked."

"And remembered how compelling *you* are?"

"Male genitalia are inherently ridiculous --"

"I *disagree*."

"How *much* do you like my bald, bald groin...?"

"I... have spent time imagining what your scent would be like if you had hair."

"Really."

"Some of us like to be... overpowered, from time to time. Aesthetically, that is."

Lex goes back to stroking Tim with the scourge. "There's a 'but' there."

Tim sighs and pushes into the strokes --

"Very good. But...?"

"The lack of hair makes you look even... thicker. And more impressive. Not that you *need* that --"

"Darling, I *remember* Bruce's cock."

"Yes, but really, once one goes over six point five inches... ellipsis."

"Really."

"Yes."

"And you know that *why*?"

"I've been buying my own sex toys since my father was in that coma, Lex."

"And... you really did use your allowance money for that."

"Yes, and?"

"Absolutely nothing, you glorious bitch. Are you ready?"

Tim -- catches his breath.

"I won't be dominating you. You'll be able to stop me at any time -- hm."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to open up the game to things like you saying 'no,' 'stop,' 'please don't,' et cetera?"

Tim thinks about a *hot* hand on the back of his neck --

Huge hands spreading him wide --

"I... ah. I would rather save that for Clark. If --"

"No, that's perfectly fine, darling. I *do* have to look at myself in the mirror sometimes."

Tim snorts. "All right, I do love you."

Lex leans in enough to show Tim his grin. "Excellent. Ready?"

"Do it -- *nnh* -- oh." Tim shifts experimentally -- but he really can't do anything, in this position, to feel the hot *stripe* across his ass any more than he does.

"Yes...?"

"I..." Tim licks his lips and hangs his head. "More."

Lex whips his ass again --

His back --

His ass *again* --

Tim moans and tenses *hard* -- "Oh. Oh -- God."

Lex pauses. "Tell me."

"I... suddenly understand why Bruce is terminally obsessed with Catwoman," Tim says --

Lex snorts. "Really."

"God, this is..." Tim laughs and feels himself... heating up.

All *over* --

The pain isn't remarkable in any way, but the *feel* --

The fact that he's letting Lex *do* this to him --

"Do feel free to give me more detail, darling."

"*You* know all about this --"

"*Not*," Lex says, and strokes Tim's welts with the scourge, "from you."

"I --" That's true. Tim licks his lips. "I'm... am I flushed?"

"More by the moment."

"I feel... very hot. Physically, I mean."

"Do you like it?"

Tim nods and licks his lips. "I feel... I think this is going to be incredibly entertaining when I start to sweat. *More* entertaining."

"And you're sure you don't want to be dominated...?"

"I... I'm going to beg."

"That sort of thing can be even more intense --"

"I know," Tim says, and rolls his head on his neck. "But it's also going to be incredibly intense on its own, simply because of who we are and what we're doing."

"And what -- and who -- you *should* be doing...?"

Tim smiles and lets it flash a little over his shoulder --

"Tell me what you did with my son. Please."

"Lex --"

"You're forgiven for all attempts -- however evil -- to make me aroused with the information."

Tim -- pants. And shifts.

And feels himself *bob* --

"All right, *my* genitalia are ridiculous --"

"Would you like a cock ring? It won't stop you from flopping around, but it *will* make you feel more constrained."

Tim licks his lips. "I... I want you to make me come this way."

"Then no. Please tell me."

"We discussed our fantasies. Your son's --"

"Not that. I believe he *will* want to discuss that sometime in the future. Especially if they aren't especially heroic...?"

"One was like that. The other was... adorable."

"Noted. And yours?"

"Piggybacking on his own. I didn't give him a specifically detailed fantasy, as opposed to information about what I wanted him to do to me."

Lex hums.

"Yes?"

"I'm still thinking about that," Lex says, and whips his shoulders --

His thighs --

The base of his *spine* --

Tim cries *out* --

Lex whips him there again and again -

"*Please*!"

"Oh, darling. You can have anything you want," and Lex pauses and *scratches* Tim there --

Tim growls and *yanks* on the restraints --

"You're perfect. More...?"

Tim pants and shudders --

And feels himself start to sweat --

And moans when he opens his mouth again. Just --

"You are... well. You're not everything I want --"

"I know --"

"And I'm not everything *you* want..." Lex sighs and reaches between Tim's legs to cup his scrotum. And then he squeezes *hard* --

"*Fuck*."

"Yes?"

"Please. *Please* --"

"Did you beg for my son?"

"God, *yes*. He told me it would turn him on -- we'd planned to just masturbate together --"

Lex chokes on a laugh --

"It was *working*! Until I responded tellingly to him sharing that he'd use his power to push lubricant deeper into my rectum."

"Dear sweet Yom *Kippur*, that's -- filthy."

"Hn. And a long-standing fantasy. Please --"

"Of course," Lex says, releasing Tim's scrotum and whipping him *faster*. Fast enough that it's impossible to really *comprehend* the feel of each individual stroke --

*Strike* --

"Give in to it, darling," and Lex isn't out of breath, or --

"Is this -- for *you* --"

"I'm watching you sweat. I'm watching you pant. I'm watching you *leak*. And the fact that I almost certainly *can't* fuck you this morning is driving me up. A. *Wall*," and Lex starts hitting him -- harder.

More.

More --

"*More* --"

"Oh, yes," Lex says, and starts whipping Tim's *inner* thighs --

"Oh, *fuck*, Lex --"

"Do you need it?"

"Yes -- *yes* --"

"Would you let Bruce do this to you?"

"Bare -- bare *hands* --"

"My hands are harder than his..."

Tim groans and yanks at the restraints --

Lex isn't *stopping* --

"Please -- *please* --"

Lex moves to his back again -- "Yes, darling?"

"I'm. I'm so *hard*..."

"You're spattering the door."

"*Nnh* -- oh, God, that's *horrible* -- *ahn* --"

Lex steps back, tugging on Tim's ear with his teeth until the pain is more heavy than shocking. And then he lets go. "I disagree."

"You. You probably want me to *lick* the door."

"No, that's really only my sort of thing with Mercy, and *then* only when she needs it. I prefer my subs have *absolute* pride in themselves at all times... and I can have very narrow views of that sort of thing."

Tim thinks about that --

*Tries* to think about that --

"I. I seem to be very hard."

Lex lets Tim see his smile. "So you are," he says, and *grips* Tim --

"Oh, *please*!"

"Did he touch you like this?"

"Only -- only with his aura --"

"Did he *fuck* you with his aura?"

"*Yes*."

"Your mouth, too?"

"You really *are* related --"

And Lex snorts and strokes Tim fast and hard. "Stop that."

"No -- ah. Wait. I'm sorry --"

Lex laughs again and *squeezes* while he strokes --

"*Lex* --"

"There you are. Do you feel how *slick* you are, darling...?"

Tim nods and swallows -- "More. It's more -- I mean --"

Tim nods and *groans* --

"Your hands -- I love your hands --"

"You haven't felt *enough* of them, I don't think," and Lex cups Tim's scrotum again in his free hand --

Massages and *molests* -- "Lex --"

"Yes?"

"Please -- please *more* --"

"There's only so much --"

"*Please* --"

"You're sweating, darling. That *will* make it easier to break the skin."

"I don't --" Care. Except --

Tim growls and bangs his head against the door *mostly* lightly --

"Shh, it's all right. I have other ways to hurt you."

Tim clenches and *gasps* --

Shudders --

"*Tell* me --"

"I'll show you," Lex says, and bites the back of Tim's neck *hard* --

"*Lex* --"

And then bites his way down Tim's *spine* --

Tim grunts and --

And he's eleven and desperate and *sticky*, because Bruce and Jason are on the next roof over --

Because Jason is sprawled on a *gargoyle* --

Because Jason is cursing-moaning-begging while Bruce bites --

And bites --

And *bites* --

He hadn't moaned then. He hadn't --

He hadn't *breathed* except shallowly --

But right now he's groaning and beating his fists against the jamb --

Shaking and *twitching* in Lex's *hand* --

"*Please*!"

Lex bites him over a *welt* --

Tim's vision *blanks* for a hot second that turns into a hot, *screaming* second --

And another --

Lex drops and bites Tim's *ass* --

"*Please*, Lex --"

There are welts all *over* and Tim can't stop himself from thrusting, writhing --

"*Lex* --"

And screaming *again* when Lex spreads his ass and *licks* him. His body was ready for more *pain*, but this --

This is hot and wet and --

Tim tries to catch his breath, tries to remember *exactly* how long ago he washed --

The cloud showers didn't *touch* his ass --

And Tim hears himself make a sound like a *crow*, loud and indignant and *entirely* related to Lex's tongue shoving in *deep* -

God, he can feel the swelling --

And he can feel it more when he clenches --

Somehow *more* when he screams again --

He's shaking all over --

He's sweating and aching and --

"*Please* -- *ahn* --"

Lex licks out and up Tim's spine -- "Almost, darling. Be ready."

"Lex -- oh my *God* --"

And the strikes come and *keep* coming. He'd only *thought* they were fast before --

*Hard* before --

He's yelling --

Shouting and --

Tossing his *head* --

He can see *sweat* flying --

"Now, darling."

"*Lex*!"

"*Now*."

Tim's knees buckle and he doesn't *get* anywhere --

Lex doesn't *stop* --

Tim opens his mouth to call Lex's name again and can only croak --

Tries to *stand* and can only *shake* --

And then several of the tails hit his *scrotum* --

He can't see can't --

Everything is *bright* --

That sound --

That feel and that *ache* and that *throb*, and Tim's aware that he's shuddering constantly, that he's coming like --

Like something --

Bright --

"-- perfect, darling..."

Tim slumps, and this time even *trying* to move is impossible. Just --

Lex helps steady him on his feet. "Are you going to open your eyes?"

"I --" His voice is hoarse. Half-*broken*.

"You *can* say no."

"Nuh --" He shakes his head.

"Or not. I believe it's time for your cuddle, darling," Lex says, tugging him out of the restraints and carrying him to the bed.

Tim turns into Lex's *warmth* --

Rubs himself against the cool smoothness of his dress shirt --

Twines his legs with Lex's own --

Lex sighs and holds him close. "You were perfect."

"You --" Tim shakes his head and shudders. And pants -- no. He regulates his breathing --

"You may want to keep up the panting for a while..."

Tim shakes his head again.

"It really does... well. *Lengthen* that feeling."

That feeling --

*That* feeling is what happens when someone uses an ice-cream scoop on his *brain*.

Or perhaps just stimulates his pleasure centers.

Or --

Tim tries to press closer. He needs --

"I'm here, darling."

Tim -- whimpers.

"Shh, it's all right. Everything is all right," Lex says, and begins to stroke him over his welts --

Tim stiffens --

"No...?"

"I." Tim licks his lips and opens his eyes. "I need."

Lex looks at him, *searches* him, and the heat in his eyes *matches* the tenderness, the *warmth* --

Tim moans and turns away from him --

"Darling --"

"Just -- I need to feel your shirt against my back." And to not think about that much warmth --

That much *love* --

Oh, no, no, he can't freak out *now* --

Tim growls and *shoves* himself back against Lex, rubbing himself a little raw against him until the jittery thing inside him... stops.

Just -- stops.

"Tim... I think I do need you to talk to me --"

"I almost -- lost it a little."

"*Damn* --"

"No, it's --" Tim swallows and shakes his head. "I wasn't ready to see how much you love me."

Lex hums thoughtfully and grips Tim's hip *hard*. "Better?"

"Oh -- God. Only if we're going to ignore common sense and have you fuck me again."

Lex sighs and lets go, stroking Tim's abdomen, instead. "I'm always rather sappy after whipping someone," he... offers.

For mockery, for bitchery, for --

Something other than what he deserves.

"Please, Lex. Don't -- it's not your fault."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," Tim says, and twines his fingers Lex's. "I'm sure."

"And *that*... was more than just an answer to that question."

Tim smiles ruefully. "Yes."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but..."

"Yes?"

"Did you start to slip into a submissive state toward the end?"

"I -- you *ordered* me to come. At that point..." Tim shakes his head.

"I'm sorry --"

"*No* -- just. It's not your fault. And it made the orgasm into something I'll remember fondly at least until the next time you make me come so hard my optic nerves stop working."

Lex laughs quietly. "It can be very, very easy to slip into headspaces like that while you're being whipped."

Tim smiles. "Or doing the whipping?"

"Oh, yes. Still, I'm nearly thirty years older than you. *I* should've had more control."

"Lex. Your son already refused to let us share blame for what happened between *us* tonight. I really can't take it if you do, too."

"Tim --"

"*Lex*."

Lex sighs.

Tim *growls* and squeezes Lex's hand painfully hard.

And Lex laughs again. "Your point is made, darling. You *absolutely* should've shown more aplomb after being whipped for the first *fucking* time by a recovering *supervillain* mere days after *tentatively* deciding to reject a *lifetime* of crippling repression."

Tim opens his mouth -- and closes it again.

"I just don't know what I was thinking."

Tim winces and relaxes his grip. "I..."

"Yes, darling?"

Tim turns back to face Lex --

"Hello again."

Tim smiles *helplessly* -- "Hi. You can take the blame."

"Thank you."

"But you need to do that to me... often."

"Of course. Practice makes perfect... even more perfect."

Tim shakes his head. And leans in to kiss Lex softly, warmly --

Perhaps as tenderly as a moment like this deserves --

Even though Lex needs to brush his teeth and possibly bleach his mouth --

Lex laughs and pulls back. "You're more fastidious than *I* am, aren't you?"

"Ah... the repression and general anal-retentiveness isn't all sexual."

Lex strokes down the bridge of Tim's nose. "No, I suppose not. I'll be right back."

"No, I'm going to the bathroom with you so I can grab a rag for the poor door."

Lex snorts. "Yes, it feels terribly used. Let's go."

Tim sits up and walks -- slowly -- to the bathroom.

He needs to feel Lex's eyes on him for every step.

*

Lex brushes his teeth vigorously, so as not to hear the sounds of Tim performing semen-related obsessive-compulsive behavior. Thank everything good, pure, and sterile that there hasn't been time for the semen to drip down to the *carpet*. Tim would probably insist on going back to his favorite dank hole in the ground for luminol and a black light.

Hmm. *Do* they make love in their headquarters?

Do they *fuck* in their headquarters?

What sort of headquarters would *Bruce* design for his use -- no, there's no real question. Bruce has an *exceedingly* poetic and imaginative soul, but has never felt comfortable applying those drives to himself. Lovers and friends receive truly perfect gifts and heartfelt declarations if he allows himself even a *little* leeway, but for his day-to-day existence...

His hair, his clothes, his *surroundings*...

The question becomes, then, how much influence he'd allowed his *partners* to exert.

Lex spits and rinses --

Listens to the sound of Tim *scrubbing* the door --

Lex sighs and proceeds to be loud with his mouthwash. If he goes out there and tries to convince Tim to do a less than thorough job, he'll probably be tense for the rest of the morning, and *that* would be no good whatsoever for Lex's plans.

After another minute, Tim returns to the bathroom, and Lex gives up his spot at the sink so Tim can sterilize the cloth and his hands. And --

No. Lex spits in the toilet. "Darling."

"I'm listening."

"And preparing to *buck*?"

"Hn. Maybe a little."

Lex hums and strokes a line along the backs of Tim's shoulders. The welts there are already fading, and Lex allows that to give him a sense of pride in himself and in a job well done. "I can't help but remember the way you respond to semen in other contexts."

"Semen *belongs* in my body. And on my body."

Lex bites his lip.

"You're tempted to make some sort of *comment* -- I know you are -- so I would like to take this time to remind you which of us *hasn't* gotten off, yet."

Lex laughs and kisses the back of Tim's neck. "I'm not likely to forget. Let me fill my glass?"

Tim nods and shifts to the side, and, really, the sink is more than large enough that that sort of thing isn't strictly *necessary*... but it's still rather wonderfully companionable.

He wants -- "Will you ever visit me in Metropolis?"

"Yes," Tim says, and drops into a crouch to look in the cabinet below the sink, presumably for cleaning products.

"There isn't --"

"I figured there wouldn't be," and Tim stands again. "I still had to check."

"Did you?"

Tim looks *pointedly* at Lex's groin --

And Lex grins. "I feel I should mention that *some* of the semen expelled during our last two encounters wound up on the bed --

"Acceptable secondary repository, much like rooftops."

Repository -- Lex sighs happily and rinses his mouth, then leans back against a wall to watch Tim moving the clean towels to one bar, effectively creating a Group W bench for the towel he'd used.

Does he know that song?

Would he *like* it? The humor *is* more than a little disturbing in places... well, it's worth an experiment at a later date. "*When* will you visit me, darling?"

"When -- hm." Tim pauses in scrubbing his poor, abused hands.

"Yes?"

"I was about to say something truly idiotic about visiting when things 'calm down' here."

Lex snorts. "There are police helicopters flying overhead every *night*. And *day*."

"Yes, that," Tim says, and sighs. "No, I'll visit for a day or two the week after next on my way to San Francisco. It will be easy enough for Kon to pick me up at your tower and fly me out from there."

"You're comfortable making a schedule like that?"

"I've learned -- the hard way -- that the only way to have a life as a Gotham vigilante is to *take* it, no matter what. Though I have to tell you -- this would all be a lot easier if you hadn't spent so much time trying to murder Clark."

Lex scowls -- no, it's entirely true. The man can be anywhere on the *planet* in *moments* -- and he can safely transport whoever he wishes. And -- "I think I'm going to build a teleporter."

Tim grins. "I *could* help with that --"

"You're *joking*."

"Hnn. The JLA has had one for years --"

"*What*?"

"And it only goes certain specific places, because the technology is wildly dangerous --"

"Two words, Tim: *Energy crisis*!"

"Oh, yes, I know. But every time the League considers sharing the technology with the world, humanity proves that it doesn't even know how to regulate travel that has *little* potential to murder hundreds of thousands of people at a time."

Lex blinks. "Radiation?"

"Yes. And..."

"*What*?"

"The slightest miscalculation can lead to two objects trying very, very hard to exist in the same space at the same time. The resulting *cataclysms*... well. There are some very large pieces missing from the far side of the moon."

Lex stares at Tim.

Tim eyes his hands critically and turns off the water. "In any event, I'd really have to insist that you work *closely* with Bruce, Clark, and the Atom. Especially since Clark and the Atom have already *been* working on a teleporter safe enough to trust to humanity for the past five years."

Well. That -- Lex shakes his head and rests his hand at the small of Tim's back. "At a certain point, you have to allow humanity to take its lumps, Tim."

"And when they turn on all of us for not adequately explaining that fire is hot...?"

Lex smiles and pushes gently --

And Tim allows himself to be guided back into the bedroom --

"People *are* going to hate and fear *any* public figure, Tim. You know that."

"Yes, but when people hate and fear *us*, *other* people die. Including people who *don't* deserve it."

Hmm. "What did you want to do with your life *before* you learned the secret?"

"I had no idea. I'd planned to just... go along with what my parents wanted for me. Though you should know -- I didn't *consciously* realize that I wanted to do more than be *near* my family until Alfred shoved me into Jason's first Robin suit and drove me off to save Bruce and Dick... from Dent."

"I'm back to wanting to --"

"Yes, I know," Tim says, and looks back over his shoulder curiously when Lex pauses them by the bureau.

"Top drawer. Please."

Tim smiles and opens the drawer... and sighs somewhat dreamily for the sight of gaffs and training bras in pastels -- and stockings. "Is this what you want, Lex...?"

"It's one of many things I want, darling -- and it's your choice."

Tim blushes and smiles *hungrily*. "You're capable of thinking of me as female...?"

"Oh, yes," Lex says, and takes Tim's right hand, kissing the back softly and raising an eyebrow.

"And if I'm not *that* kind of girl?"

"Then I'll ask you what sort of girl you are."

Tim hums and pulls out the sage-green gaff and matching bra. "We'll see once you show me what's in the closet," he says, and then waves Lex back.

"I'm not allowed to help...?"

"Not this time," Tim says and begins to dress. The way he moves is already... different.

Lex can't call it more feminine without needing Hope to hit him somewhere painful, but there are... differences. A certain heightened sensuality, blended well with cheer as Tim fastens the bra and seats it neatly over his lean pecs.

A certain *twist* of anticipation for the gaff --

A *wriggle* as he pulls it on --

He...?

Tim wanted to be *Batgirl* --

And Tim turns back to the drawer for a pair of stockings. There isn't even *one* flaw in his shaving job which, while not uncommon, is another of the aspects of this relationship which make Lex want various impossible things, starting with a ring on Tim's finger.

And it *would* be platinum, because Lex can be *convincing* sometimes --

It would just look *better* than any sort of gold against Tim's skin tone --

Maybe titanium? Tungsten? It's a thought --

And Tim sighs as he pulls on the not-quite-matching green garters --

Snaps them *gently* --

"I would love to do that for you."

Tim smiles... but doesn't look directly at him or say a word before pulling on the stockings slowly, evenly, and, yes -- *sensuously*.

Lex... gives himself a squeeze. Not a hard one -- just a bit of physical *promise*.

When the garters are fastened, Tim kicks, spins like a *dancer* --

On his *toes* -- no. *Not* his.

"Darling girl..."

Tim hums, pitching her voice higher and going for something infinitely more musical in tone as the hum becomes a *giggle*. Her eyes are... very bright.

Lex closes the distance between them -- he *starts* to, but Tim holds up a hand and shakes her head.

The giggle never fades from her eyes. Never --

Lex takes a deep breath and inclines his head. And gestures toward the closet.

"All right," she says, walking there *briskly* -- but not without a sway which is far less subtle than the one Tim uses when he's being male... or something else entirely. She opens the closet -- "Oh..."

Lex moves so that he can see precisely what has her attention --

Ah, the pantsuit. The cream shade is far more suited to Hope than it is to Tim, but the tailoring is *absolutely* designed to make a short, petite woman seem significantly more curvy.

Tim strokes the arm -- and moves to the *business* suit. It's terribly nostalgic for the eighties, but, again, it will disguise and enhance.

Tim hums and pushes it aside --

And sighs and pulls out the jeweled green shift. It's light for summer, flows to mid-thigh, and was absolutely tailored with aging socialites who don't want to *admit* they're aging in mind.

Every last line of the thing is designed for the sort of woman who starves herself to some horrifically fashionable idea of perfection...

Or for a slight young woman who wants to look *less* slight.

"You like it."

Tim smiles and strokes the bodice, which is actually *designed* to gap to a certain extent. "I love it. Though I think it may make my shoulders look too broad."

"There's absolutely nothing wrong -- and many, many things *right* -- with a broad-shouldered woman."

Tim laughs again. "Yes, I *did* briefly forget whose suite I was in."

"Are you *that* kind of girl, darling...?"

Tim looks at him from under her lashes. "That would be telling."

"Mystery...?"

"Well... *I've* only ever made love with *one* man, Lex. It was... difficult."

Lex shivers -- "You were a woman with Bruce for your first time."

Tim bites her lip and nods -- then laughs again. "In retrospect, that was less than a good idea, for all sorts of reasons, but..." Tim shakes her head. "Anyway." She takes the dress off the hanger and slips it on with speed and grace, zipping the back easily. She looks...

Lex circles her to examine the fit. The bodice could use a *bit* of filling, but it truly does a good job of *suggesting*. The waist is form-fitting -- accentuating the positive -- and flows down and down that way... but not so far down that those wonderful legs aren't on full display. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you, Lex -- oh."

"You enjoy having your hips held this way."

Tim laughs again -- still open-mouthed -- "We've established that."

Lex leans in and kisses her temple before pulling her back against him. "I like hearing you say it."

Tim's smile... may or may *not* need lipstick. He honestly isn't sure. "In *this* voice, Lex...?"

"It's a beautiful voice," Lex says, and strokes the *hollows* of Tim's hips.

"It really isn't --"

"It is to me. It makes me... pay all sorts of attention."

Tim sighs and reaches up to wrap her arms around Lex's neck... and starts to sway to a song only she can hear.

Lex would bet large amounts of money *and* power that it *is* a specific song, that it's performed at just this rhythm --

He'll take the mystery for now, especially since Tim twists and sways away from him before turning to meet his eyes -- and wrapping her arms around his neck *again*. "Do you like this, Lex?"

"Oh, yes."

Tim smiles and closes her eyes --

"Would you like heels?"

"Would you...?"

Lex shakes his head. "I didn't find any which would do justice to that dress, unfortunately --"

"I have a pair which would at home."

Lex raises an eyebrow --

And Tim smiles more broadly. "Bruce loves me in this color."

"Bruce has always had excellent taste... if not always the will to use it."

Tim hums and nods -- and presses closer still.

"You feel wonderful."

"I'll feel better after the surgery."

Lex cups Tim's right hip and strokes up her back with his other hand. "You'll feel *different*, darling."

"Lex. I haven't *seen* Prudence, yet, but I'll eat one of your *ties* if she's less than a C-cup."

To match Mercy's C's and Hope's D's, of course -- Lex laughs quietly. "I didn't put out an ad for buxom assassins, darling."

"Yes, it's *solely* coincidence, of course," Tim says, leaning back and smiling lazily at him.

"Would you *like* me to indulge my more caveman-ish tendencies with you...?"

Tim licks her *teeth*... "Maybe."

"Do keep me posted," Lex says, spinning them before guiding them into the decidedly weak-willed sunlight, which is grey enough to make her eyes seem more blue --

"Lex..."

"Too much light, darling?"

She shakes her head. "I like this."

"So do I," and Lex strokes back down to her hips --

"I want..."

"Tell me, please."

She licks her lips -- and her rhythm shifts to something slightly faster, more... something.

Lex is almost sure he'd be better at describing it were Tim not rubbing her abdomen against his cock through their clothes. "Do you like *that*...?"

"Yes. I... I won't be soft for long," and there is a *slight* frown --

No. "You're soft inside," Lex says, and presses his fingers to her cleft through the dress --

Tim *moans* -- "Lex."

"Yes, darling...?"

"I --" She laughs again, and rests her forehead against his shoulder.

"It's all right --"

"I want -- I think I want too much."

"No."

"Lex --"

"Darling, you are *not* allowed to berate yourself for wanting things."

"Even --"

"Even things you can't -- at present -- have. The alien --"

"The father of your child. Excuse me, *children*." 

"The *other* -- all right. *Kent*," Lex says and raises *both* eyebrows --

A breathy laugh -- "Better," she says, and leads them into a patch of shadow which will only be present for another ten minutes or so. "Go on...?"

"Kent may be able to subsume his darker, hungrier emotions and desires -- certainly, the fact that you remain decidedly un-raped suggests just that --"

Tim *coughs* -- and adjusts it midway through to something higher-pitched. "Ah... yes?"

Lex smiles somewhat greedily. "You're human, darling. *Entirely* so. You can do nothing about your desires, save acknowledging them and moving forward --"

"That's what I *want* --"

"Moving forward does *not* just entail merely doing one's level best to divest oneself of those desires which don't speak well for one. It *also* entails doing one's level best to make one's *other* desires real."

"I can't --"

"Have an even semi-functional vagina without losing your perfectly wonderful penis. Yes, I know. *However*... the world marches forward each and every day. Sometimes it *sprints* forward. You're seventeen years old, darling. We *will* find a way."

Tim looks at him with wide eyes --

*Full* eyes --

"Lex..."

"I love you, and I've decided that you get to have *everything* you want. Believe whatever you want to believe, darling... so long as you *also* believe in my *will*."

Tim's eyes grow heavy-lidded, and the tension in her body --

Her beautiful body --

Lex growls and kisses her --

"*Mmm* --"

Lex spins them so her back is against the wall beside the window and kisses her again, again and again --

"Oh, *Lex* --"

"Yes, darling. The answer is always, *always* yes," and Lex licks her cheek, grateful for the lack of rouge --

Licks her mouth, her ear, her *throat* --

Tim moans and strokes the outside of Lex's left leg with her right foot, so small and firm --

Lex cups her face and kisses her hard, wanting her lips to swell, her small mouth to *open* for him --

And she moans into *his* mouth --

She claws at his shoulders --

She bucks. She --

"Oh -- good girl..."

*Another* moan -- "*Please*, Lex --"

"Shh, shh, you never have to beg for anything."

Tim blinks and stares at him with *confusion* --

And Lex laughs quietly. "Or you could beg loudly and at length. Either works," and he tugs the dress up her thighs --

"Ohn -- I. Do you not like -- no, that makes no sense --"

"I do like my Virtues to beg. You're not them," Lex says, and strokes her garters, her sleek inner thighs --

"Please -- I mean --"

"Anything, darling. Anything you want --"

"I -- fuck. You *know* what I want --"

"And we can't have it... yet. But Kon didn't leave you any *more* raw, did he...?"

"N-no -- please --"

Lex pushes the dress up farther and presses his thumbs in the hollows between her torso and thighs --

"Oh, God, that feels -- it's already --" Tim shakes her head and bites her lip --

"Will you let me make love to you, darling...?"

"*Yes* --"

"Will you let me make love to you the way I *want* to?"

She opens her eyes and they're wide again, hungry and *lost* --

"Veto power is yours whenever you wish to use it."

"Lex..."

Lex closes his eyes and breathes her in, shocked for a moment by the lack of perfume, by the faint and unmistakable *sharpness* --

"God, I need *cologne* --"

Lex laughs and lifts Tim's chin before biting her throat *hard* --

"*Hnh* -- *Lex* --"

He pulls back and licks, sucks soft kisses --

Tim shudders *hard* -- "Please. Please, more."

Lex feels himself twitch in his pants and -- yes. He bites a path across her throat --

"*Nnh* --"

He *sucks* a path to her ear and then back to and across her throat --

"*Lex* --"

"Let me --"

"*Do* it!"

Lex takes a breath and steps back, studying her --

Her flushed skin and beautiful face --

Her *needy* eyes --

Bruce would be tempted -- possibly beyond his ability to resist -- to carry her to bed, and it's not like Lex *isn't*, but. He smiles at her and takes her hand --

And the blush on her face overpowers the flush. *Fascinating* reaction, really, and he'll ask her to examine it with him just as soon as his cock isn't *screaming* at him.

Lex lets the laugh inside him widen his smile -- "Come with me."

"Of course. I mean -- I mean 'of course,'" Tim says, and her laugh is breathless and *sweet*.

"Is this the part of you which wanted to be Batgirl...?"

"It's -- ah. The part of me which wanted to be as *brave* as Batgirl."

Lex tugs her toward the bed and raises an eyebrow. "And you think you're not?"

"I'm... brave in entirely different ways. Most of the time. Batgirl -- the Batgirl I wanted to be -- has a lot more in common with the part of me which is third-gendered than the part of me which is... this."

Lex nods thoughtfully -- no. "I'm filing that away, darling."

"All right --"

"Mainly because I'm so hard right now that critical thought is... less than possible."

"Oh -- Lex. I believe I know the feeling," Tim says, sitting on the bed and moving to the center. She doesn't spread her legs *especially* far -- certainly not as far as she *can* -- but...

The welcome is unmistakable.

Lex strips himself at speed, taking her gaze for his own --

And the way she's scratching unconsciously at the duvet --

And the way she's narrowing her *eyes* -- "Darling..."

"I -- perhaps I've mentioned that I want you."

Lex laughs. "Amazingly enough... it's not something I get tired of hearing."

Tim narrows her eyes. "A... lack of honest appreciation as a teenager?"

Lex raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, that answers the question -- ah. I just find it difficult to comprehend."

"Bald was fashionable during your lifetime --"

"Lex, you're incredible. Fashion -- fashion has never been an especial concern of mine."

Lex raises his eyebrow *higher* -- but that's entirely true. Aesthetics, yes. Fashion, *no* -- unless it matches what she -- and he, and ze -- *see* as aesthetically superior. Lex nods and pushes his boxer-briefs down --

And Tim moans. "I -- should be naked."

"Do you want to be?"

"Ah. No."

"Then you shouldn't be," Lex says, and crawls onto the bed, giving her the weight of his upper body --

Another moan -- hm.

"You regulate the sounds you make."

"To -- a certain extent --"

"Please stop," Lex says, and kisses her chin, her cheeks --

She pulls him in for a real kiss, a *deep* kiss --

She whimpers when he slips his tongue between her lips --

She grips his shoulders when he *fucks* her with his tongue -- "No --"

"A moment, darling," and Lex strokes her lower lip with his thumb. "Are you not sure you can sound sufficiently female if you don't control your sounds?"

"Yes --"

"You're a woman to me until you find some way to tell me differently."

"I --" Tim frowns.

"It doesn't work that way...? I assure you that it does -- for me. Is that why you don't want to take off the dress?"

"It's part of the reason --" Tim shakes her head. "Bruce -- that negligee..."

"You never took it completely off...?"

Tim closes her eyes and blushes again -- opens her eyes and smiles ruefully. "I didn't have to."

Lex smiles. "You don't have to take anything off but your gaff to let me do what I -- badly -- need to do."

Tim licks her lips --

Blushes again --

Squeezes her *eyes* shut --

"No, darling," Lex says, and cups her face. "You need to understand -- as quickly as possible -- that your body does *not* define your gender for me. I haven't done *all* the reading, but I've done a fair amount of it. You gave me *time* to do just that."

Tim opens her eyes. "Lex --"

"Wait. You may need your body to look a certain way in order to feel more fully yourself, but I need nothing of the kind. You will *always* be yourself -- *all* of yourself -- and I will always want just that."

Tim -- grunts.

Lex smiles. "Perfect."

"I --"

"*Perfect*. Make that sound... often."

"I don't feel --"

"Mercy makes that sound *every* time I push into her ass just the right way. Prudence... well, it takes a certain degree of caning, but... you get the idea...?"

Tim gives him a sour look -- though not one lacking humor.

"Yes, darling...?"

"You're tempting me to be more like Hope."

"So there *will* be extensive cuddle after I get you off? Wonderful!"

Tim coughs -- and glares at him good-naturedly. "Take my gaff off."

"May I do it in a way which could reasonably be described as disgustingly sappy?"

Tim narrows her eyes. "Don't test me, Lex."

Lex laughs and kisses her --

Again --

Again --

Tim moans -- stops --

Tim growls and flips them, pinning Lex rather terrifyingly easily -- but Lex has accepted that he has a type, and, really, there was no reason not to. Tim *bites* Lex's lips -- "Fight me?"

Lex raises an eyebrow. "How much?"

"Ah... enough to beat my gender issues out of me?"

Lex snorts -- and does a very poor job of covering it --

But Tim smiles ruefully and hangs her head. "I don't -- I want everything."

"You can have it. Though I'm not sure I'm qualified to beat out *anyone* else's gender issues, darling."

Tim meets Lex's eyes again -- "I love you. I'm usually -- I don't know why I want my inner woman to be like... that."

"No thoughts, at all?"

"A vague, shadowy morass of cringing and horror around my -- numerous -- memories of my mother telling my father to 'be a man' comes to mind."

Lex winces. "Yes, that would explain... well. Darling. Be *precisely* who you need to be. *All* of who you need to be. It's all right if there are conflicting drives and -- everything else. All right?"

"I think this is where I apologize for having every issue in the known universe and having them attack at the worst possible times."

"Well... you're not racist. Are you?"

Tim looks *pained* -- "I -- everyone is racist."

"Yes, but you're not *diseased* about it. I feel certain that I would've noticed that by now."

Tim smiles ruefully. "Yes, I believe you would have. I... would very much like to suck you off."

"That can be arranged... but."

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Let me make love to you *precisely* how I'd go about making love to a woman who wasn't as well-adjusted as she could be."

"I'm not sure I could *take* a caning, Lex."

"Darling, bite your tongue. My Virtues are *perfectly* --" Lex coughs and snickers, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Tim hums and lies down *next* to Lex, stroking his chest with her hand and his leg with her foot. "As an aside, I love the way you feel."

"The feeling is mutual. How far out of the mood are you?"

"Enough to no longer be terrified of removing my gaff."

Lex blinks --

*Tries* to think -- no. He files that away, as well.

"I'm more than willing to jerk off, darling --"

"Oh -- God, no. Please let me --"

"*Not* if you're out of the mood --"

"I'm still *aroused*, Lex. I'm just -- sometimes I think I could hate myself for this. For... it's like I took my sexuality, wrapped it in bubble-wrap, placed it in a box, placed the box in a lead chest, dumped the chest in a lake, surrounded the lake with mines, planted a thorny hedge -- you get the idea."

"I do, yes. But I'm more than willing to hack my way through whenever appropriate. Your mines aren't terribly crippling --"

"Make love to me."

Lex turns to face Tim more fully and raises an eyebrow. "While you're braced, darling?"

"While I'm *not*. I -- I'm allowed to enjoy gentle things."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm allowed -- it doesn't have to mean --"

"Anything, at all."

"I'm also allowed to tell you to try something else entirely."

"Of course."

"I..." Tim smiles, sharp and small -- but not *quiet*, at all.

"Yes, darling?"

"Oh... thinking about your hand on my scrotum."

"My hard, hard hand...?"

Tim licks her lips -- and strokes her body through the dress, wriggling somewhat --

No. *Very* excitingly. Very -- and that's a cause for some degree of chagrin, because --

"Lex...?"

Because --"You look exceedingly young when you do that. *Don't* stop, please."

She parts her lips --

Blushes --

And pulls her left knee up to her chest. The dress is too slim to ride up as much as Lex would dearly love for it to do...

But the view is entirely inspiring.

As is the view of Tim stroking her own leg --

Planting her foot and bending her other leg back --

Planting *that* foot and stroking her waist, her chest, her abdomen --

And then she sighs and pushes her small hand between her legs --

Uses the *other* hand to tug the dress back down as far as it will go --

And the motion of her hidden hand is...

Lex licks his lips. "It's a clitoris right now, isn't it?"

"Perhaps... perhaps I have one of those disorders which provides precisely too much testosterone," she says, and she's just a little breathless --

"That's... terrible?"

A breathless *laugh*. "Oh, yes. I feel... ah... like so much less of a woman --"

"Perhaps you'll let me show you why I disagree with --"

"*Please* --"

Lex uses every bit of learned speed to *move*, shoving her dress up over her hips --

"Oh, Lex --"

She's rubbing at herself with just her *fingertips* -- "Oh, darling, I..." Lex shakes his head and kisses her fingers, nibbles and licks them until they start to spasm and twitch --

The scent of her like this --

Lex growls and *sucks* her through the gaff --

"*Lex* --"

"Mm-hmm..."

She growls, low and hungry --

She tenses and begins to stroke and scratch her own thighs --

And Lex breathes warm through the gaff, kisses and nuzzles and breathes again --

Again --

She whimpers for him and starts to work her hips in small, slow circles --

"You should know, darling..."

"Ah... yes?"

"The only changes I want you to make are the ones which you feel you *need* to make --"

"You've mentioned --"

"You don't believe me, yet," Lex says, and nibbles the shaft through the gaff --

"*Please* --"

"I'm just going to keep telling you until you do," and the wet spot tells him precisely where to press his tongue --

She growls again --

*Arches* for him --

"Please, Lex --"

"Of course," and he presses hard kisses to the head, the shaft --

Her *mound* --

He scrapes his teeth there, then tugs on the small and shamelessly frilly little bow which lines up perfectly with her treasure trail --

And then he cups her hips and kisses his way up to her navel --

"No -- not that --"

"All right," and Lex moves back down to breathe on her again --

Breathe her *in* --

"Bruce's response to my underwear was often decidedly unprintable."

"Ah -- linguistically?"

"Well, there was rarely any language, darling. There... well," Lex says, and curls his fingers into her waistband --

She tenses --

And just telling her to relax won't work, and telling her that it's all *right* won't work, so... more of this.

He kisses her mound again --

"He often did this, darling," Lex says, pressing his nose to her mound and growling, long and low --

"Oh -- fuck --"

"I very often feared for my cock, for all that he'd try his hardest to be gentle. And then, of course, there was the incredibly large number of times when he'd simply tear my underwear *off*."

"You... could -- ah." And Tim sits up on her elbows and licks her lips.

Lex smiles and moves his hands, cupping her hip with one hand and pushing the fingers of the other down the front of the gaff. And tugging.

"Oh -- oh. Ah. Apparently, this is a kink."

"How *many* romance novels did you read as a child?"

"The nanny had a new one every other day and she didn't always watch her purse very closely -- look, let's not discuss it."

Lex bites his lip and looks up to meet her eyes.

"We only received one newspaper and *business* magazines!"

Lex nods as sympathetically as he's able --

Tim *glares* -- but then she laughs and presses her thumb and index finger to her closed eyes. "Let's take -- all of this -- as read."

"Of course," Lex says, checking his leverage -- and ripping the gaff off.

"*Fuck* --"

"I did, of course weaken the seams on *all* the gaffs I purchased for you --"

Tim snorts. "*Lex* --"

"Let's just say I had a few suspicions and leave it at that," and Lex begins to lick her *wetly* --

"Oh -- ooh --"

He presses his lips to the head -- "Mm-hmm?"

A *purring* growl --

Lex smiles and nuzzles her --

"Wait --"

"Yes?"

"Too -- too much like Bruce --"

"The tearing wasn't?"

"He hasn't actually *done* that to me... yet."

"Noted, darling," and Lex lifts her cock enough that he can rub the head over and over his lips --

Tim moans *beautifully* --

And does it again for Lex's kisses --

Lex's *carefully* nibbling bites -- and it seems like every one gets her that much harder, that much closer to *precisely* what Lex needs -- yes.

He kisses her more, using his tongue as much as he would on a clitoris --

Sucking and nibbling the flesh of her sac the way he would do to *particularly* tender inner lips --

"Ohn -- please --"

"Anything, darling --"

"Don't *say* that --"

"Tim."

"You can't *fuck* me!"

And that ass is... right there.

Waiting for Lex to do something which will necessitate another tooth-brushing before he can get more kisses... but.

But --

Lex shakes his head and licks his way up the shaft --

"*Nnh* --"

"There are other ways, darling. Many, *many* other ways," and Lex nuzzles *just* her cock, watching her for the wrong sort of tension --

Hmm... was the worship the problem with Bruce? Should he be more selfish -- no, more *greedy*. Just the sort of thing to remind a beautiful woman *precisely* how beautiful she is. Lex lets his expression grow heavy-lidded and heavy in *general* -- and licks her --

And licks her --

She *writhes* -- "*Lex* --"

"Yes...?"

"I -- I. *More* --"

He swallows her --

"*Fuck* me!"

All right, that's the sort of thing --

Lex sucks as hard as he can -- and then pulls off and flips her over onto her stomach, tugging her cock back between her legs --

"Oh -- *fuck* --"

He *considers* rubbing her down -- no, another time. He spreads her, instead, breathing on her hole, so *pink* -- "I won't say you've turned me *into* a pervert... but."

She laughs for him and *starts* to say something --

Lex shoves in with his tongue, and whatever it was becomes a gurgling groan --

She beats at the bed with her hard little fists --

She *claws* at the bed --

She goes *back* to beating at it --

And *then* Lex starts moving his tongue --

"Oh, yes, *yes* --"

He growls *experimentally* --

She cries out and spreads wide, begging for the *currently* impossible --

Lex pulls out and licks her cleft, moves to suck her sac, to nibble again --

"*Lex*, *please*!"

"Good girls..." Lex hums. "Good girls get what they deserve --"

She growls and pushes up on her *knees*, cock bobbing *heavily*, and -- hmm.

Lex grips her around the base and uses one of his calluses on the head, rubbing the way he *would* rub a clit --

"Ahn -- *ahn* -- *please* --"

"Will this get you off?"

"*Yes*!"

"*Noted*, darling... but it's not enough for me --"

"Do what you *want* --"

"Thank you," Lex says, and kisses the base of her spine, spreads her again and kisses up and down her cleft --

She shudders and *grinds* --

And Lex licks just the swollen areas *around* her hole --

Her tight-for-*now* little hole --

Lex does his best to let her feel his smile --

"*Please*!"

In again --

"*Hnh* --"

And this time Lex lets the fuck be a little relentless, a little *vicious*, and he wants to have Bruce's strength *very* badly -- they'd both enjoy it if Lex could hold her *still* as much as he's holding her steady --

He wants to see what happens when she *submits* -- and really, the romance novels might help with that --

In frightening ways --

Hm. What *would* Prudence and *this* Tim think of each other? Something to consider at a later date --

When he *doesn't* have a hole clenching around his tongue --

Such a *needy* little girl right now...

Lex smiles again and pulls back --

"Lex, *please* --"

"One moment, darling," Lex says, and rolls over to pull the lubricant out of the bedside table --

"Oh, God, *yes* --"

"A wonderful response, but *just* my fingers for now. And, to make sure it's as smooth a ride as *possible*..." Lex pulls out a latex glove. "You're not allergic, are you?"

"*No* --"

"Good. On your side for me...?"

"I --" She shakes her head and does him one -- or possibly several -- better, lying on her side and kicking her leg up.

"Perfect," Lex says, and lies down on his on side --

She moans and grips him *immediately* --

"Have you done this before?"

"No, but I've wanted to," she says, fervent and low -

"As a woman?"

"Every -- everything --"

"I love you madly. You'll need your control --"

"I *know* --"

"But not *too* much of it, darling," Lex says, and slicks his gloved fingers. "Please don't take me in until you *need* --"

She swallows him. She --

"Perhaps. Perhaps I should've..." Lex groans for the feel of her swallowing --

For the sound of groans getting *stopped* in her chest --

"Mother*fuck*, darling, I --" Lex shakes his head. "We'll discuss this later --"

She scratches his *hip* --

"Do that as often as you'd like," and Lex pushes in with one, testing --

She pulls back seemingly *just* to let him hear her *squeal* around his cock --

One will absolutely do, especially since he can press *right* there --

And make her buck --

Again --

Again --

He opens his mouth and lunges just *so* --

And she's deep in his mouth, deep and shuddering, deep and *whimpering* --

Until she swallows him again --

He swallows *her* --

And it's precisely as wonderful as it should be to shake together, to *take* together -- especially since she's doing her level best to crush her face against his groin. She's *also* hugging his hips and *pulling*, and Lex would *like* to tell her that he can't actually make his cock any longer... but not as much as he would like to do just this: thrust in and *in* as he works his head on her cock --

Her *delightfully* overlarge clit --

She pulls back to *shout* --

She *clutches* his hips, claws at the hollows --

Lex hums *loudly*, urging her to choke it off --

She shouts something that might be his name -- no, she knows *exactly* what he likes. It's his name --

It's his name over and *over* -- until she whimpers and swallows him again, shudders and groans --

Clenches and shudders *more* --

And, really, the part of him -- let's call it his cock -- which wants to *stop* focusing on what she needs has a point --

Rounded, but still --

But *this* --

His beautiful, *conflicted* girl --

Does she know that every time she gives him something like this, it's a victory?

Does she know how *much* of one it is?

She has no right to be even as well-adjusted as she *isn't* --

She pulls back and Lex grunts --

She pulls *off* -- and sucks what will almost certainly be a *terribly* telling mark on his sac. Stopping her would be *unthinkable* -- but he can encourage other things by fucking her faster -- not harder *yet* --

She *spasms* in his mouth, lifted leg shaking --

"*Lex*!"

"Mm-hmm," and it's chopped by the rhythm he's giving her, the rhythm she's *taking* --

"Ohn -- oh, God, I *need* you!"

Lex feels himself twitch and leak --

"*Please* -- I mean -- I can --" She growls and swallows him again --

Swallows *around* him with rhythmic *force*... that absolutely matches the rhythm he's giving her ass. Perfect.

*Perfect* --

Perhaps *too* perfect, because he's thrusting --

Pushing into that tight, tight *throat* --

He's *not* going to last at this point --

After this *much* -- but it wasn't teasing, save in the most pathetic -- for him -- sense. He's old enough to be able to stand *up* to a young girl's doubts and confusion --

And confusingly hard cock.

Lex laughs *internally* and tries to urge that cock to go a little faster --

A little *ruder* --

Perhaps if he *drags* his knuckle --

She stiffens --

Shouts muffled and *broken* --

And begins to *rut*, grinding *precisely* like a cruel-minded woman with a tongue in her cunt she has every intention of *keeping* there. She never slips out of his throat for more than a moment or two --

She's *digging* her nails into Lex's ass --

She's sweating --

They're *both* sweating as she *yanks* on him --

And there's no way to say no to that, no possible --

He reaches down to take her hand and gets his own hand *gripped* --

And he fucks her, mouth and ass, and knowing it's a little too hard --

A little too --

She pulls back *just* enough to *scream* --

But Lex can't *stop* thrusting into his beautiful darling's mouth, can't --

He bumps the back of her throat and can't stop himself from shoving his finger *deep* --

She screams *again* -- and comes shaking and grunting and *thrusting*, squeezing hard enough to pop Lex's weak knuckle out of joint --

Thankfully *briefly* --

And then squeezing harder than that. The pain is bracing enough that Lex can't particularly mind only getting to taste a *little* of her come --

And there will be a next time. And one after that. And one --

She pulls back and growls, low and *hungry* --

Lex pants and pulls back, as well. "Yes, darling?"

"Lex --" She growls again -- and then Lex is on his back --

And Tim is crying out, because the shove had caused Lex to move his finger *badly*. Damn -- "Darling, are you --"

"*Yes*," she says, reaching back to grip Lex's wrist and *yank* him out. "I want you *inside* me --"

"I know --"

"You don't know well *enough*," she says, and her breathing is rough, and she's flushed, and she's still more hard than *not* -- "I need -- what else *is* there that would *work* right now?"

Well. "Hands and knees, darling."

She stares at him for a long moment, and her eyes make her seem almost *wounded* by lust --

Hunger that had lasted too *long* --

Lex kneels up and gets rid of the glove. "It's all right. I promise."

She closes her eyes -- "I trust you," she says, and moves onto her hands and knees, spreading her thighs --

"Not that far."

"Oh -- oh, *yes*," and Tim pushes her cock back between her thighs --

And Lex doesn't wait. He --

The view.

The *feel*.

Not one extraneous *hair* --

He *can't* wait, and the feel of Tim's shaft --

His lean, long thighs and the hot little *squeezes* she's giving them *both* --

"Will you come again, darling?"

"*Please*."

And Lex thrusts because he *has* to --

She's sleek with sweat and saliva --

"That -- that is, in fact..." Lex licks his lips -- "An adequate answer. More than --"

"*Fast*!"

Control, then. As much as he can manage as he shows her *exactly* what she's going to get *next* time -- but.

"Oh, Lex!"

And --

"More -- *more* --"

And --

"Don't *stop*!"

"I *won't*," but there's some -- some *question* about his ability to keep that promise, because --

"*Nnh* -- *unh* -- *please*!"

Think. He has to think --

But she's squeezing them rhythmically --

She's leaking on him --

So -- so *fucking* *slick* --

He grips her hips --

"*Yes*!"

He squeezes *exactly* as hard as he can -- and she starts slamming back against him, *fighting* for more, for harder --

For *more* --

"I'll give -- I'll give you *everything*, darling --"

She nods frantically, and they're twitching together, spasming and *working* --

She growls and grunts --

She tosses her head like -- like a *desperate* animal --

He almost *certainly* shouldn't be thinking *anything* like that, but laughing makes him gasp --

"*Lex*!"

Gasping makes him *shudder*, and fuck, he can't *stop* twitching, can't --

It feels like he's leaking copiously *and* like there's too much friction between her thighs, and even having done this before -- injuring his Virtues' genitals would defeat several different purposes at *once*, and there are such things as days when Lex has fucked their assorted orifices too *much* -- isn't enough to ease the mild and *heady* panic.

He wants to *bite* her chafed thighs --

He wants her to lick his chafed *cock* --

He wants *proof* that this is too much, and it's just another Neanderthal urge -- something to fight *down* with himself --

Sometime when Tim isn't moving just.

Like.

*This*.

And Lex knows the expression on his face is both rapacious and *dazed*, knows that if she asked him to stop now -- for anything *other* than a quick shove into her ass -- there'd be --

A problem --

And that groan was fucking *mournful*, but he doesn't think -- no. He *knows* he can't be blamed for it, because he's going to have to stop *fucking* her really fucking *soon* --

"*Lex* --!"

"*Everything*," and theoretically she knows what he means --

Everything is so tight, so hot --

He can smell his *own* sweat and he can smell hers. He can taste her cock and he can taste her *come* --

He's grunting and -- fuck, he *has* to be bruising her perfect little hips, but he also needs *harder*, needs to keep her still without -- without giving orders --

Toppy, toppy *bitch* --

"I *love* you --"

And she cries out for him, piercing and high and beautiful --

She reaches back to rub at the head of his *cock* --

"*Tim* --*

"Plea--" And the rest of that is a scream as she spasms and comes, splashing Lex's groin and thighs --

So hot and *slick* --

He needs more. He --

Lex pulls back and flips her onto her back, lifting her legs up around his waist and *driving* against her, shoving against those perfect abs, that still-twitching cock --

She's panting and smiling up at him with *desperate* affection --

She's -- practically *slumped* --

But her gaze gets sharper and sharper --

Her smile gets *tighter* --

Her *legs* get tighter --

And Lex is *exactly* too hard to put up a fight when she flips him *again* --

When she pulls his hands to her head -- "*Now*, Lex!"

"*Fuck*, yes," and he hauls her down --

Holds her *still* --

And if the -- if *Kent* hasn't dreamed of doing just this --

*Reaming* that perfect mouth --

*While* she stares at him with the kind of menace that *definitely* doesn't mean the same on her face as it tends to on Mercy's --

Yes -- oh --

But he can't keep his eyes open --

Her hair should be *longer* --

His -- control --

Doesn't exist. All he can do is fuck his way in and in and *in* --

All he can do is hold her *still* for it, hold her and beg with every wordless fucking shout that she won't *move*, won't --

And *that* sound was a whimper, and he'll be embarrassed by it *after* she stops working his prostate through his perineum --

Or possibly after the universe stops burning itself to ash in his mind --

Fuck, so --

So *sharp* --

So *loud* -- but that's him. That's --

He can't stop shooting *off* --

He can't stop *yelling* --

She's using her mother*fucking* *teeth* --

And laughing is, perhaps, better for all concerned --

Certainly for his *throat* --

Lex collapses on his back and pants, doing his level best to will life back into his fingers --

But short hair and ridiculous training mean that Tim is more than capable of twisting free of Lex's grip and pulling back enough that *she* can pant.

And stare at him.

And grin. Well --

"Better, darling...?"

"Much," she says, and drapes herself *half* over Lex. They're oriented toward the foot of the bed -- mostly -- and the bed couldn't smell more like them without them being fundamentally less-fastidious people.

That... is wonderful. Lex smiles.

"That's a particularly obnoxious expression, you know."

"I thought it might be --"

"Hn."

"-- after the first eight times people took swings at me for using it."

Tim scratches down Lex's chest to his navel -- hm.

"That laugh."

"Yes, Lex?"

"Not feeling particularly female anymore?"

"I lost a little cohesion when I tucked for the intercrural, actually," Tim says, and dips a finger in Lex's navel. "Something... I think it's because I was doing it specifically for penile stimulation."

Lex nods and considers --

Wraps one arm around his darling and covers her -- *his* hand with the other -- and that really is better. Especially since Tim hums and presses closer.

"You do realize that any number of women enjoy clitoral frottage...?"

"The concept exists in my mind, but..." Tim waves a hand. "It hasn't quite become real."

"I *highly* recommend --"

"More sex with my girlfriend...? I may not be *significantly* far ahead of you, but..."

"Ellipsis?"

"Oh, yes," and Tim leans in to lick sweat from Lex's chest. "I'll ask her if she's given tribadism any consideration."

"Batgirl is her lover."

"Mm-hm. They make each other exceedingly happy in many different ways."

"And I suppose there's a certain *tradition* there..."

"Mm-hm. Really, it's a relief. People have *mostly* stopped trying to fix *me* up with Batgirl."

"Not your type?"

"I can't lie to her about anything. At all. Ever."

Lex blinks. "And you're not speaking about an emotional... should I really call that a failing?"

"Hn. Probably not. Cassandra is... deeply perceptive. More so than even Bruce."

"And she's not a metahuman?"

"No."

Lex nods thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should bring her on our dates."

"Lex."

"It could only be --"

"Stressful?"

"In the *short* term, darling. In the long term, we could trust each other absolutely."

Tim laughs aloud and kisses Lex's jaw. "I trust my ability to read you. And my ability to do horrifically painful things to you should you step out of line."

"You dewy-eyed romantic."

Tim smiles and bats his long, thin lashes at him. He does, in fact, manage to make himself look somewhat dewy.

Perhaps it's the decidedly swollen mouth. Lex strokes it, presses gently on the upper lip --

Tim licks his fingertips --

"When do you have to leave?"

"I'd like to be home by noon. Beyond that... I'm at your disposal."

Lex consults his time-sense -- four solid hours. They could get in another meal together -- or. Lex grins. "Let's go out on a date."

"Do you have any clothes here --"

"In the other closet. Though I have no problem whatsoever with you... cross-dressing in public. Or dressing like -- no, I'm not going to guess."

"Third-gendered for the moment --"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," and Tim's expression turns considering.

Lex takes the time to stroke Tim everywhere he can reach. He can't see or feel beneath the dress, but the visible skin is now entirely free of welts, which is still more warming proof of his skill with the scourge. He'll be very annoyed with himself when he loses the ability to control his strikes at will --

No, he *will* have perfected cloning technology by then, and he can damned well shave whichever body will get his engram. Or get Tim and his Virtues to do it for him. That --

Hmm. Maybe not the pubic hair.

Maybe.

Lex rolls over on top of Tim and kisses his way down his --

"The neutral pronouns...?"

"Still undecided."

"All right," and Lex continues kissing him until he reaches Tim's navel, at which point he hikes the dress up and licks. Tangy. He kisses Tim's treasure trail --

"Stop. Please."

Lex looks up and raises an eyebrow.

"If I have any more orgasms before at least an hour has passed, I'll run screaming. Or my penis will."

Lex examines the penis in question -- "It doesn't seem independently mobile, darling."

"Never count a Drake penis down."

Lex raises his eyebrow *higher* and doesn't say one word about the lack of Drake siblings.

"Hn. Never count an Evans-Drake birth control device -- or several -- down, either."

Lex spares a moment to wonder if Janet would've been a better parent had she had access to crèche technology --

"Oh -- don't say it."

"Not a word, darling," Lex says, and kisses his way back up Tim's body, examining the bruises on his throat, which are already purpling nicely. It *is* a good color for him, though Lex suspects that a surfeit of it will make him look younger than *either* of them would be entirely comfortable with.

They can experiment another day.

Lex kisses Tim's chin, the flesh over the hinge of his jaw --

"Oh, could you --"

"Massage?"

Tim smiles. "I'm actually terrible at doing it for myself."

"Most people are," Lex says, and begins to work on Tim's lovely little face. "You, of course, believe that you shouldn't be."

"Hn."

Lex laughs. "You're adorable."

"You should see me in a schoolgirl uniform."

Lex pauses and *looks* at Tim. "You'd look like a war crime in *progress*."

"*Lex* --"

"Your *eyes*, darling."

"What *about* them?"

"All right. If you tell me that you *didn't* spend the entire time thinking about horrific things to do to middle-aged men with sweaty palms, I'll believe you."

Tim narrows his eyes.

"Yes...?"

"Some of them were young. And *female*."

"Oh, I see."

"And -- I don't *have* to show everything in my eyes."

Lex raises an eyebrow -- but no, that's absolutely true. "I concede the point. You looked like the opening scenes of a horror movie."

Tim flips him off.

"I *did* enjoy that prostate massage, now that you mention it."

Tim... glitters at him.

Lex looks pointedly at Tim's penis, and then back to those glittering eyes. "The answer is yes."

"I --" But then Tim frowns in *affronted* confusion.

"What is it, darling?"

"I. I want to use a *strap-on* to do it."

Lex -- blinks. And licks his lips. "And... this has nothing to do with the *size* of your cock?"

"It didn't *before*!"

Lex coughs. "No! Ah... you're more than large enough for me, darling."

Tim sighs. "No, I know. I don't actually require a larger penis than the one I already have. That's an issue I don't have, I promise. It's just..."

"Your inner *woman* wants to be the one who fucks me."

"Apparently so."

Lex nods and -- hm. "That actually makes perfect sense to me. You *are* of the opinion that my relationships with my Virtues are problematic, yes? Most good, right-thinking people are."

"Lex. I'm *fully* aware of how BDSM relationships work. The fact that I'm not entirely comfortable with you and your Virtues has infinitely more to do with the fact that you have, among you, caused the deaths of *dozens* of people than it does with *anything* else."

"All right --"

"No, I think... I think the problem is that I'm ridiculously contrary-minded. If it's something I can't have --"

"You can tuck and *then* strap on."

Tim blinks. "I -- you're right."

"Do you want it less?"

Tim looks thoughtful again -- but only for a moment before he smiles *sweetly*. That --

"That's breathtaking, darling."

"What -- I. Oh," Tim says, and blushes. "I do still want it."

"We can go shopping, then."

"I -- so we can. Cross-dressing, it is. My name... hm. Call me Caroline. She's young enough for the makeup I'll be wearing. You *did* buy me makeup, yes...?"

"Of course --"

"Good. Caroline actually has auburn hair, but we don't have to tell anyone her *last* name. Hmm. Or... perhaps I should come up with a new alias for the decidedly butch --"

"I bought falsies for you, as well."

Tim narrows his eyes. "You might have told me *earlier*."

"They aren't anywhere near as good as what you're used to, darling --"

"*Still*. They would've *helped*."

Lex takes a breath -- and inclines his head. "I'm sorry, then. I *will* remember this."

Tim glares at him for another long moment -- and then he nods. "A new alias."

"Lillian is a wonderful name --"

"And your *mother's*."

Lex smiles. "Your hair looks like hers did, toward the end."

Tim looks far more pained than amused, though, and that --

"All right, what horrible thoughts did I put in your head?"

"I'm... reasonably sure the negligee I was wearing when I lost my virginity is based on one of Martha Wayne's."

Lex stares.

Tim snickers and rubs his eyes. "Not Lillian."

"I *was* joking --"

"Yes, yes. Ellen, maybe?"

"Hmm."

Tim moves his hands. "No?"

"Ellen is just a bit too *bookish* a name for that hair -- and the earrings I purchased."

Tim nods again. "Not Jennifer, not Anne, not Michaela -- no. I like Michaela."

"Spell it with a 'k' and you'll be decently modern enough for that hair."

"Done. How do you like it?"

"Mikaela, darling, would you like another glass of wine?"

"No, *thank* you, Lexie. You'll get my... schnapps when you pry it out of my cold, dead fingers."

"Not beer?"

"Too pedestrian. Though that's not the reason she'll admit to --"

"Have you considered being *yourself*?"

"Why would I?"

"I..." Lex leans in and gives Tim a carefully close-mouthed kiss. "Let's discuss it in the shower."

"Hn. Remember what I said about surrendering with honor...?"

"Yes, but you only get one of those per twenty-four hour period, darling, so I'm afraid we're just going to have to fight about it. I *promise* to be entertainingly emotional about it all," Lex says, and stands, offering his hand. 

Tim laughs and takes it, standing as well and pressing close. "The voice *will* be higher than this one."

"That's fair."

"The body language will be standard American youthful female, circa early twenty-first century."

"Also fair," Lex says, cupping Tim's hips and walking them back toward the bathroom.

"I... the more real -- and *apart* -- Mikaela is, the more you can *date* her."

"I don't *want* to date her --"

"You want to date *me*, yes, and that's flattering, but not especially sensible. Or *sustainable*."

Oh, that's right. He's *not* dating an actual teenager. He --

Is dating Timothy Jackson Drake.

Who is waiting impatiently for Lex to catch *up*. Well -- well. "Compromise with me, darling."

"Yes?"

"You're allowed to sit with your back to the wall, and every time *anyone* approaches, Mikaela can be as flighty and schnapps-drinking and -- artsy?"

"Oh, good thought --"

"*Artsy* as she wants to be. All right?"

"You *don't* think tabloids would use directional mics against you?"

"I *think* that no civilian who doesn't go by the name Lois Lane wants to risk fucking with my *empire*," Lex says, raising an eyebrow and stepping into the bath.

"I -- all too true," Tim says, and follows him. "Compromise accepted."

"*Thank* you," and Lex closes the door... and looks Tim over.

Tim plants his hands on his hips and bends a knee.

"That's not Mikaela. That's -- what *was* the corset-wearer's alias?"

"Spence --"

"That's *awful*."

"Useful, though. No one takes people who willingly refer to themselves as 'Spence' seriously."

He... can't argue with that. Lex sighs and turns on the water. The *important* thing to remember is that he *is* getting a public date *mostly* with his darling. Everything else is irrelevant.

*

The mathematics of force as applied to a spar with Cassandra is something that shifts and moves as gracefully and beautifully as Cassandra herself. She has far more speed than he ever will, and they are equally matched in terms of skill. Where he *can* defeat her -- if she makes mistakes and if he makes none -- is with his greater strength. She is powerful for a woman her size -- more powerful, perhaps, than someone that petite should have a right to -- but she is still quite slight, and will always be so.

However, teaching her to *speak* when he causes her true pain had been difficult, as her tolerance for such things is nearly inhuman -- which can lead to her being too injured to patrol with sufficient effectiveness.

They do not spar often.

Not as often as she *wishes* --

And not as often as *he* wishes, because her joy in such things --

Her joy is something of *perfect* play, play which improves and hones.

For all that Stephanie has tried -- and even succeeded in -- teaching Cassandra games with little to no tactical use, *this* remains her favorite:

The sweep she leaps over with easy grace --

The punch she sidesteps while laughing, at him and *with* him --

The *dancing* quick-steps she'd learned from Dick --

The *taunting* she'd learned from Stephanie --

And the *explosion* of violence she'd learned from Cain, and there are so many ways he wishes to *injure* that man, so many crimes --

*Vesper* --

And the frown line on her forehead tells him that he is showing his own difficulties in some way he can't truly guess --

He shakes his head --

But she steps back and calls time, cocking her head to the side. "Who?"

He reaches out to cup her face, to stroke her smooth and blameless cheek. "It's not --"

"*Who*?"

Of course there is no room for such cowardice anymore, even if it cloaks itself in the urge to protect his loved ones from pain of their own. "Cain."

Cassandra frowns and nods, rubbing Bruce's chest through his t-shirt -- but *not* precisely where the bat would go.

Bruce has thought, more than once, that Cassandra would be truly happy -- perhaps even more than she is in moments of intimate warmth -- if she could reach in and *physically* ease the hearts of her loved ones. "It's all right."

She studies him for a long moment -- and then nods and points to her left triceps.

"A strain?" There is no sign in her body language of anything *like* that --

She nods, and Bruce massages her with the slow and decidedly non-clinical warmth she prefers, and tests himself with the attempt to discern *when* she had strained it.

The faked toss is a possibility -- she had been twisted around -- but she is perfect at such things.

The strike he'd *grazed* her with -- no, it was only a graze.

The back-flips across the mats, perhaps...?

She hums in pleasure, then simply hums a snatch of song Bruce remembers Stephanie singing tunelessly in the car. She --

"Do you like Stephanie's new hairstyle?"

"Yes. Puffy."

Bruce considers -- yes, when it's drying, it does tend to be somewhat dandelion-esque. "Have you thought about growing your own hair longer?"

She makes a face.

It's an answer, but... he is, theoretically, *also* supposed to be helping her become more verbal. "Why not?"

"Sweaty in the cowl. Tangles. Useless pain." She pauses and studies him again. "Longer hair... sexy?"

Bruce smiles. "Sometimes. Though your practicality is even more so. It was an idle question."

She nods. "Not -- *you're* not lonely," she says, very clearly deciding to play the game of language with him more fully.

"Not with you near."

She smiles at him, eyes narrowing *brightly* for a moment -- and then she nods again. "You're... also not horny."

Perhaps he should ask Tim to work with her vocabulary more -- but. "Not particularly."

"You just want to talk to me."

Bruce smiles. "Is it so strange...?"

"Yes."

Bruce laughs, and leans in to kiss her temple, and her cheek --

She giggles and rubs her cheek against his own, and the rasp of stubble is loud and a reminder that he'll need to shave before patrol --

Even though she *enjoys* his stubble *always* --

She pushes up on her toes and presses her lips to his, chaste and warm. She *hums* against his mouth --

He rumbles for her --

She giggles *more* --

And they stiffen together as the proximity alarm goes off for the first time since a very large and confused buck had wandered into the Cave and nearly fallen into a crevasse.

The monitors show -- a larger than average apparent male speeding toward the Cave on a motorcycle Bruce doesn't recognize. There's a small male riding pillion, and they're heading straight for the hologram.

"No one else coming," Cassandra says.

"No... masks."

They paste down the temporary dominoes they keep for emergencies, and wait for the intruders to find the first of the traps --

But the large male stops the bike before the tires can be shredded --

Steps *off* the bike, and the way he moves --

The way he --

He pulls off his helmet --

He grins at the cameras --

"No."

Cassandra clutches his forearm, squeezing hard.

"No --"

"I know, I know, but it's me, B, and I -- look, lemme just," and -- the young man --

He's too *old*. He has to be at least seventeen -

But he effortlessly finds the recessed and disguised controls that release the emergency keypad --

And the code is Jason's. The --

The traps deactivate --

And the young man raises his -- thick, perfect -- eyebrows at the camera. "I'm betting that didn't do any good either, but -- fuck, B, just gimme some time to *explain* before you beat my ass, okay? It was *hard* to get back here." And then the young man moves back to the bike --

The other boy hasn't moved --

And they ride inside, parking in one of the repair spaces and then beginning to move to join them.

He --

They're walking *slowly*, with their hands up --

Cassandra squeezes his arm again, and the force is nearly *bruising* and Bruce can't --

No. Bruce swallows. "Batgirl. Report."

"League of Assassins training."

"Yes. For both of them," and Bruce can think, he can *think* --

"Jason isn't lying."

"Who --" Bruce shudders. *Thinks* -- "He believes he is who he says he is."

"Yes."

"Watch... Jason," Bruce says, and turns to the other boy, who is small, but well-made. His musculature is similar to Jason's when he was twelve, but more *complete*. He is dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and an appropriately-sized leather jacket, but it's immediately clear that he would rather be wearing other clothes entirely. His --

His features are *familiar* --

Bruce focuses --

"Yeah, we're just gonna keep walking real slow-like, and give you time to do all your freaking out, and -- think good thoughts? Heh. Heh heh. Remember when I asked you how the fuck Diana wandered around *Antarctica* in her uniform and you just told me to 'think clean thoughts?' Like maybe I could think anything *but* with my freakin' nuts freezing off?"

Bruce tenses and --

No, he's examining the other boy --

His skin-tone has more in common with amber than anything else, and his eyes are faintly tilted and a deep, rich brown. There is Asia in his features, but also the Middle East --

His mouth is Talia's. His cheekbones, brow, and chin... are not.

He --

Bruce steps *back*.

"Oh, so you *do* recognize the kid? That's good, 'cause I was thinking that would be the *really* tough sell -- hey, is Batgirl about to murder me? Or I could just talk to *her*, because I'm a *dumbass* -- uh. Hey. I know your name's Cassandra, but I don't have to call you that -- uh. Fuck it, you can call *me* Jay, okay?"

Cassandra tilts her head to the side. "Don't kill."

"That's cool, that's cool. I pretty much try to avoid it, myself. And..." The young man pauses ten feet away and moves to smack the other boy lightly --

The boy blocks with impressive speed -- "Now is not the time for frivolous displays," the boy says, in a clipped and even tone. "Father, my name is Damian Wayne. Todd insisted that you would not be pleased if you saw how Mother was raising me, and I chose to speak to you about the matter myself."

"Not lying," Cassandra says.

"Your mother..." And Bruce remembers the taste of her skin --

The wild and *triumphant* sound of her cries as he entered her --

He'd felt feverish and lost, hungry for her acceptance, the promise of her beautiful body --

("*Yes*, beloved --!")

Bruce clenches his hands into fists. The part of him which wants to insist that all of this is impossible cannot be allowed to come to the fore. He straightens himself and breathes --

"DNA tests would be a *damned* good idea, I'm thinking --"

"Oh, yes, I think so, too," *Clark* says, flying in and studying both young men -- "Oh, my."

"Hey, Chester, nice to see you."

Clark blushes. "Jason -- I."

"*Kal*."

"Yes, Batman, I *know*, but I can *see* his DNA. And -- your son's, as well. Ah... hem. Congratulations?"

Bruce -- clenches his fists tighter.

Clark waves to Cassandra.

Cassandra smiles and waves back -- and then squeezes Bruce's forearm again.

He *is* going to bruise there --

And he must -- he must bring himself back --

"Of course, you *should* take cheek swabs from us anyway. I mean, I can go get the O-tips if you --"

"Jay," Bruce says, and he wishes he could say he doesn't recognize his own voice. He wishes there were *more* times when he wasn't rough and essentially broken --

This boy --

His *love* -- who is shuddering and staring at Bruce with his lips parted.

And Bruce remembers that he never truly wanted control over that voice, at *all* -- because it always, always moved Jay. Bruce swallows once more and turns to... Damian, who is standing at *stiff* attention with his chin jutting.

Bruce moves closer to him --

Jason steps back --

Bruce stops and stares --

"I'm just gonna keep being non-threatening until we're *all* sure that nobody needs to kick my ass. Seriously, there's been enough of that lately."

Bruce reaches out --

"I -- uh. Fuck, B --" And Jason takes his hand and squeezes it. "I'll tell you everything, okay? Just, you know, start deprogramming the kid *stat*."

Damian's expression darkens dramatically... but he doesn't say a word. There is...

There is difficulty here. Bruce nods and turns back to Damian, and drops into a crouch. "Please, tell me of your life."

"I wake at five-fifteen every morning. I consume breakfast. I begin my physical training, and continue to train until eleven-forty-five, when I consume lunch. I resume my training until three p.m., when I begin my work in languages, business, politics, and whatever Mother wishes to add to my curriculum. I consume dinner. I finish my mental training by eleven p.m., and then I sleep," Damian says, and meets Bruce's eyes with a look of defensive wariness. "It is, by far, the most efficient use of my time."

Talia...

Talia would never train a boy --

Talia would never train her *son* by *him* in any but the most ruthless ways. "Damian... have you killed?"

If anything, he stands more stiffly. "Yes," he says and seems about to leave the matter there with a show of absolute defiance -- and then he frowns more deeply. "Failure is not tolerated."

Jason sighs. "So you see what I'm saying about the deprogramming? When I first found the kid, the fucking Ubus were going after him with swords."

And, presumably, meeting gruesome ends. Bruce frowns and shakes his head --

"I -- I am trained in the use of swords, staves, knives, guns --"

Bruce gestures 'stop,' just to see --

And Damian stiffens more and clicks his teeth shut.

Bruce nods. "I would not have raised you to be a killer."

"Mother says you would --" Damian shivers --

Growls --

And meets Bruce's eyes again with a blaze of feeling. "Mother tells me this is your one *weakness*. I have decided that I will help you remove it."

Jason coughs --

And Cassandra laughs as she... does a handstand on Clark's arm. She has decided there are no immediate threats.

She is correct, but only in terms of the physical.

"Damian. With death, there are no second chances --"

"This is true of *life*, as well, Father. I will show you --"

Bruce gestures again --

And Damian frowns darkly. "If you do not allow me to speak, I will not be able to educate you away from failure."

Bruce cups Damian's hard, muscled shoulder. "Murder is failure."

His mouth firms into a hard line --

One Bruce well remembers from his own mirrors when he was Damian's age. "Murder is the choice of the low, the cruel, the foolish, the weak, the ignorant, and the short-sighted. Murder is the end of possibilities -- and the beginning of grief and absence. A dead person can do nothing to improve the world in which we live. A dead person can do nothing to make amends for their crimes. A dead person is simply rotting meat, and the stinking carcass of the murderer's... weakness."

Damian shudders --

Bruce squeezes his shoulder firmly. "I do not blame you for the choices you've made."

"Oh, thank fuck. Uh. I *promise* I'll watch my language at some point *soon*."

Bruce closes his eyes -- and flips the lenses on his domino so that Jason can see his eyes. "I missed even your curses, Jay."

"Aw, B --"

"Wait, please," and Bruce turns back to Damian. "The Joker murdered Jason brutally, and in his absence, in the foul and cold black *pit* I found myself in, I nearly compounded the obscenity of it all --"

"Vengeance teaches *respect* --"

"No, little one. It teaches nothing but reprisals, and more reprisals after that. If it did not, wars would not last for years at a time... and the League of Assassins would go out of business," Bruce says, and waits.

Talia would have taught him history, of course --

You can't properly teach political science *without* it --

Damian tilts his chin up. "Tell me more now."

Jason moves around behind Damian and gives Bruce a thumbs-up --

Cassandra balances on Clark's head -- on one hand --

And Clark is smiling warmly at him.

Bruce inclines his head. "I will not say that all acts of vengeance lead to further reprisals. It's possible, if one is ruthless and amoral, to murder everyone who could conceivably care about what you've done --"

"I do not kill innocents, Father!"

Bruce smiles wryly. "I'm happy to hear that."

And Damian -- blushes. And looks down. "I will listen."

"Thank you --"

"You do not -- you do not thank your student for doing what he is supposed to do!" And Damian looks up again, angered -- no. Affronted. "Is this why your own students have been weak and imperfect, Father?"

Jason snorts -- and snickers.

Clark blinks rapidly. "Ah... if I may --"

"You are not part of this conversation, alien. As such, you will be silent."

Cassandra narrows her eyes at the back of Damian's head and flips down to her feet --

Bruce gestures stand down, and turns to Damian. "Damian, if you wish to be a part of my life, you *will* treat others with respect until such time as they prove to be unworthy of it."

"Respect is to be *earned*, Father --"

"Every last one of my allies has earned *my* respect, little one. And you are in my home."

Damian rears back and blinks. "I -- Mother says..."

"Yes, little one?"

"Mother says that the alien --"

"You will refer to him as 'Superman' or 'Kal-El,' or you will not refer to him, at all."

More blinks --

A brief look of purest *panic* -- shuttered quickly.

"It's all right --"

"I apologize, Father," Damian says, and inclines his head sharply. "I wish to be punished now."

Bruce... does his own blinking. "What... what sort of punishments have you received in the past?"

Jason's expression turns dark -- and so does Clark's.

"I couldn't get him out before the last whipping, B. I fucking *tried* --" Jason shakes his head. "Get this -- they were fucking him up because he hadn't beheaded a guy the right *way*."

Damian frowns. "If you had paid more attention to your *own* lessons, Todd, you would have known that the way I performed my task left me open to attacks from the man's allies as well as to wrist strain."

This --

Could he ever be *qualified* for this?

What possible -- Bruce shakes his head and releases Damian's shoulders, pulling back --

But the look of absolute panic returns. The look of -- fear. Loss. *Privation* --

"No," Bruce says, and pulls Damian into his arms. "No."

Damian is stiff, tensed all over.

"It's all right --"

"I do not require -- I am not... injured, Father."

"Physical contact is not merely for times when we are injured," Bruce says, as quietly and patiently as he can --

("*Bruce*! It's a *scary* movie! We *have* to cuddle.")

And Dick had thrown himself onto Bruce's lap --

And Bruce remembers absolutely nothing about the film in question.

Damian...

Damian is still tense, but he is making no effort to move. Hm. Bruce looks to Jason --

"Yeah, uh. He didn't touch *me* until I put him on the back of a bike, B. I'm pretty sure that there wasn't much of... anything. Ever."

"Touching is irrelevant save when there are necessary --"

"No," Bruce says again, and strokes Damian's back. "You are my son, and I will not allow you to --" Bruce shakes his head. "You have been greatly wronged."

"I assure you that all of my needs have been met --"

"Little one," Bruce say, and leans back *slightly* --

Damian tenses even more *deeply* --

"Little one... will you consent to learn from me?"

He lifts his chin once more. "I must return to the League to finish my training, so that I can be an effective, useful, and superior partner to you. Mother has told me that your current partners are unworthy."

"No," Cassandra says. "He is not ready."

Damian frowns. "I said that already --"

Bruce presses two fingers to Damian's mouth. "That is not what she meant. I would teach you that, as well. As for my current partners..." Bruce allows sharpness into his smile. "They have saved my life many times, little one. As well as the lives of countless others."

Damian stares at him for a long moment --

And then reaches up to touch Bruce's fingers, tugging them away from himself and examining them in much the same way Cassandra does when Bruce is being confusing. And, when Bruce looks, Cassandra is studying Damian curiously.

And Clark is hovering near Jason and -- hm. He appears to be sniffing Jason's hair while Jason studies the trophies they've added since --

No. Not now.

And Damian is studying him --

His eyes have gained an almost *bruised* quality --

And he doesn't need Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, *or* Tim to tell him that no young person can ever feel entirely comfortable with learning terrible truths about their parents, with learning *doubt* --  Bruce shakes his head. "Perhaps... perhaps we could speak to your mother about the two of us spending time together."

"I'm not --"

"I know you feel that you are not ready, little one. But I must tell you that I have never once been bested by someone trained by the League of Assassins. Additionally, I am more than experienced with training young people for this war."

"Mother says that Drake and Brown are... dangerously undisciplined."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Have you made your own observations?"

Damian comes to attention again --

Cassandra jogs up the stairs --

And Damian clears his throat. "I have observed the footage of Drake meeting with Luthor. I believe it was a tactically sound decision to allow him to seduce the man, as he clearly could not hope to best Luthor's allies in battle. I tried to explain this to Todd, but --"

"Yeah, no, still fucked-up!" And Jason is calling from near the display holding what remained of Riddler's latest costume and cane after Stephanie had finished with the man.
 
Damian narrows his eyes once more. "As you can see, Todd remains unclear on the concept of soft espionage and infiltration."

Bruce coughs, and then cups both of Damian's shoulders --

"Do you believe I require some form of... consolation? I assure you that I do not."

"I have been taught, much to my benefit and that of others about whom I care very deeply, that regular applications of physical affection are some of the most tactically useful gifts one vigilante can give another," and Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid that I do not understand this, Father."

"Ultimately, that does not surprise me. I promise to teach you everything I know about the matter... if you allow it."

Damian narrows his eyes -- and then nods once. "Please direct me to a telephone, so that I may inform Mother of my plans."

"I believe Alfred will be bringing one with him when he comes to join us with lunch. For now, I have some reading for you to do."

"I will memorize whatever it is --"

"That *won't* be necessary, save for the highlighted portions. Come," Bruce says, rising to his feet and leading Damian to the console. He calls up several of the most useful analyses of Harry Harlow's groundbreaking and horrifying work, as well as his own psychological profile as it relates to it. "Begin there. I will question you when you're done."

"Of course, Father."

"One more thing for now."

"Yes, Father?"

"When you are moved to doubt my partners, remember that they are my family," Bruce says, and considers pressure on the fault line which *must* be there --

"You... chose them," Damian says, and looks just beyond Bruce's right shoulder.

And sometimes fault lines need no pressure whatsoever. He would have -- and has -- forgiven Talia much. But he can't forgive her this --

This *abuse* of a *child* --

Bruce strokes over the short brush of Damian's hair, similar to Tim's save that Tim keeps the sides shorter --

And he can focus. "I chose them, yes. And, more to the point, they chose *me*. *That* is a gift which can never be disdained."

"I will... make my own observations from now on, Father."

Bruce inclines his head. "That is all I can ask. If you'll excuse me --"

"Have you." Damian scowls *blackly* --

And Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Please, ask."

"You chose your partners over Mother."

"I --"

"Sexually, I mean," Damian says, and looks up to search him. "Are you only physically attracted to teenagers, Father?"

"No. Nor am I only *emotionally* attracted to them."

Damian is tense again, obviously thinking deeply, rapidly --

Bruce strokes his hair once more -- and he can guess what the next question will be. How to *answer*?

No child truly wants to --

No, he must be honest. He -- "Would you like to know why I never joined your mother."

A shudder --

A stiffening --

And a *sharp* nod.

Bruce inclines his head. "While I have loved her deeply for many years, I have never been able to reconcile those emotions with the choices she makes consciously and with forethought. She has no care for the lives and livelihoods of those who do not dwell within her heart, and we have never been able to meet eye to eye on the matter. She does not understand my need to care for the larger world -- and the people who inhabit it -- and I do not understand her need to care for... for so very few," Bruce says and remembers the scents of incense, melting beeswax, and the musk of one of the world's most aesthetically perfect women --

"Are you. You are thinking of her now."

"Yes, I am. Have you wished, often, that the three of us could make a family?"

Damian's mouth is a hard line once more. "That is not -- I have reading to do, Father."

"So you do. We may discuss this, however, at almost any time you wish."

"Understood," Damian says, and turns back to the console.

Bruce turns away -- and isn't surprised in the slightest to see Jason standing near the pommel horse. The acoustics down here are such that a whisper at the console carries perfectly there --

And Jason has never been able to stomach the abuse of a child, and has never been able to stop himself from *worrying* about the children he saves. Right now, he's sitting on the horse and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He's removed his jacket --

And there are bandages visible beneath his shirt.

Clark is nowhere to be seen --

Bruce moves to join Jason --

And Jason smiles and jumps down, turning to face him before Bruce gets closer than fifteen feet.

Bruce nods in helpless approval --

"Assassin-training, B. Pays to be paranoid."

"How..." Bruce shakes his head and cups Jason's face --

"Oh -- *yeah*," and Jason leans in to kiss him hard, *painfully* -- but there's no crooked tooth to cut his lip, and he's *taller* --

Not tall *enough* for the passage of years --

"C'mon, c'mon, B --"

"Your voice --"

"Deeper, I know --"

"I -- please," Bruce says, and kisses Jason softly even as he crushes Jason's body against his own --

Jason shudders and licks Bruce's tongue, urges it into his own mouth -- and moans when Bruce follows orders --

Moans and *shakes* --

Moans and *clutches* Bruce, face and shoulders and hips -- "Missed you so *much* --"

"Every -- every day --"

"God, fuck, *B* --"

Bruce kisses Jason harder and -- he doesn't lift Jason into his arms. He's always *loathed* that. He strokes his back, instead, and tries to gauge the severity of the injuries --

And Jason snickers and pushes back. "I've got two cracked ribs, some knife slashes the kid was *extremely* neat about stitching up, and some killer road rash from when I had to ditch the *first* bike I stole when a bunch of Ubus shot out the tires. And the tank. And the engine. Okay?"

Bruce swallows and nods. "Tell me --"

"I don't know. I mean -- I woke up in the ground, and then my heart started beating again while I could feel the rest of me kinda... knitting up. And then I dug myself out. And then... it's fuzzy. I think I got hit by a car. I *know* I was on the street. The memories kinda..." Jason smiles ruefully and pushes a hand back through his --

His beautiful hair --

"You still can't come in it, B."

Bruce coughs helplessly. "Jay."

"Fuck, I missed that, *too*," and Jason leans in and bites Bruce's lip as hard as he ever has.

"My love --"

"The memories fucking *strobe*, B. And not evenly. I don't think... I don't think my *brain* was really together until after Talia picked me up and dumped me in one of those fucking Pits. Only... heh. I don't actually know how long she kept me before she did it. And I don't know how long I was on the street. And I don't know how long I was in the ground. None of it is -- anyway. I remember *everything* right up to dying, and everything from right after I woke up from the tranqs she shot me full of once I stepped out of the Pit." Jason shakes his head. "And then things got... fucked-up."

"Jay... if I had known --"

"I know. I know," and Jason smiles ruefully. "But Talia wanted payment for the use of the Pit, and fuck only knows what I agreed to back when my brain wasn't actually *working* -- anyway. I had to stay, and I couldn't call any-fucking-body, at *all*, and I had to listen to all their take-over-the-world bullshit, and I had to fucking *train* -- I didn't *really* mind that part, but now I know way too many fucking ways to kill somebody with a motherfucking wet *match* -- whatever. They all knew I was gonna get the hell out as soon as I could, and they probably all knew I'd at least try to take the kid with me, since they kept us *apart* right up until the end. He knew about me, but I didn't know about *him*. I don't *think* they were expecting Damian to agree, but they're all *more* than capable of *faking* like they were trying to stop us, so... watch your back."

Bruce nods and takes Jason's hands in his own. They are larger, and there are scars he doesn't recognize. There -- "You don't know how old you are."

"Uh... no?" Jason laughs quietly, and with some measure of pain. "I try not to think about it, and... I don't know. Maybe you can do some tests or something?"

"Yes. I... I probably won't be able to give you an answer with any degree of exactitude."

"No, I know. God, B..." Jason squeezes Bruce's hands, and his strength is the same thrill it's always been, the same *rush* --

"Every day."

Jason bites his lip. "I -- yeah. And I guess I kinda thought... I kinda thought of it as another way we could... you know. Be together."

Bruce smiles helplessly. "In pain and loneliness, my love?"

Jason pinches his fingers together. "And *wildly* inappropriate relationships with the crazy lady."

Bruce blinks.

"I -- uh. It seemed like a good idea -- all right, no, it totally didn't," and Jason scrubs at his face with his hands. "Do you have any *idea* how hard it is to sneak out of that part of the world these days when you look like *I* do?"

"I am. I am so proud of you. The happiness is..." Bruce shakes his head, and brings Jason's hand to his heart.

"Oh -- B."

"Tell me what you need, my love. I promise I will do everything I can to provide it."

"Uh. Hug the kid, like, eight times a day. *Please*. He looks like he'll *take* it from you, you know?"

"He never relaxed --"

"He'll get there. You -- I mean, you can't loosen him up the way you loosened *me* up -- uh. You know that, right?"

"Jay."

"It's just that Talia was *real damned clear* about the fact that you've started screwing *everyone* --"

"Jay --"

"You -- oh."

Yes, Damian is... there. Bruce turns to find him standing at attention a mere twelve feet away. "Excellent approach."

"Thank you, Father. Todd, if Father requires the use of my body for his sexual urges --"

"Okay, no, let's -- uh. Uh." Jason looks... appropriately horrified.

Bruce has no... comprehension...

Could Talia have offered *that* sort of training?

What had she *told* the boy about him? What -- no, he must focus.

Bruce crouches in front of Damian again. "That... will not be necessary, Damian."

Damian's expression becomes pinched -- evens again. "As you say, Father. I have completed my first reading. I do not have attachment disorder."

"I'm glad to hear it --"

Damian nods once. "I wish to be trained to provide physical affection as soon as it becomes convenient."

"We will help you."

"Here's your first tip, kid -- *relax*."

Another pinched look -- and then Damian flows into the beginnings of a ready stance. He holds himself loose and calm --

"Well... uh. *Almost*. B, who taught *you* how to hug? Give him some tips."

Bruce nods and moves around Damian, eyeing him critically... yes, it would be karate. He cups Damian's shoulders and squeezes. "You will not be tested on how well you give -- and receive -- physical affection."

Damian opens his mouth --

Bruce squeezes once more. "You will know you are doing well when you feel a sense of well-being, and observe the same on the people with whom you are practicing."

"Please elaborate."

("Aw, big guy, it's just *warm*, you know?")

Bruce smiles. "A sense of spreading emotional warmth. An overwhelming desire to relax yourself more fully. A desire to... smile, or, perhaps, laugh. A need to blush. There are other feelings, as well, but I found those to be the most... noticeable."

Damian nods. "I have felt things like that when I have been praised for my skills."

"Yes, I imagine so."

"What must I do next, Father?"

"Follow the footnotes in my psychological profile."

Another nod. "May I study the profiles of your... family, as well?"

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Bruce smiles. "When you have their permission... or when we have all agreed to allow you to work with us."

Damian blinks. "You will ask their permission, Father?"

"I will ask for their opinions, questions, and concerns, at which point we will discuss them as a family and as allies."

Jason snickers. "Yeah, once Talia told me Babs had bagged you I *knew* you'd learned a *few* lessons. Heh. Dad."

Bruce smiles around -- ah. "Note Jason's gentle, affectionate mockery."

"It's disrespectful --"

"Uh -- no. Bruce knows I respect him more than *anyone* else, alive or dead."

Damian frowns and studies Jason --

And Jason opens his stance -- and widens his eyes --

"That is not necessary. It is clear that you feel... fond."

"Love, kid. I *highly* recommend it."

"I love and respect Mother, Father, and Grandfather."

Ra's... would have left his mark, as well. In more ways than simply through Talia. "You do not truly know me, yet, little one, but I promise that you will. Perhaps, in time, we will come to love each other for who we are, as opposed to who we represent."

A *stiff* nod --

Jason clears his throat --

Ah, yes, he was being unhelpful. Bruce tilts Damian's chin up. "You are already quite important to me, solely because of who you are. However, I cannot help but think this is shallow and unworthy compared to how I will come to feel about you once we know each other better."

Damian stares into Bruce's eyes with something which looks like *hunger* -- and he shutters it immediately. "Please finish what you were telling me about Todd's mockery."

"Of course," Bruce says, and smiles at Jason. "When he mocks me in that way, I feel many of the same things I do when we hold each other, or when we kiss."

Damian frowns.

"I assure you that I have told you no lies, Damian. I will seek to avoid doing that, unless it becomes necessary for the Mission."

"This... virtual affection."

"Yes, little one?"

"Is this the reason why you wish me to speak respectfully to your... family?"

Bruce smiles again. "It's one of the reasons why. It is my hope -- and my plan -- that my family becomes your own."

Damian flares his nostrils and squares his shoulders. "I do not require --"

"You really, *really* do," Jason says, and jerks his chin at him. "You're about to enter *our* world now, kid. You need all the family you can *stand* or you *will* crack -- and make a mess for everyone you *do* care about."

"I have been trained to resist several different varieties of emotional stressors. I will *not* break, Todd."

Jason smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "If you're gonna have *my* back out there? You're damned well gonna be family *first*. And I'll be *really* fucking shocked if the rest of the family doesn't feel the same."

Damian looks *haunted* --

"It's all right, little one --"

"I have more reading to do, Father. I will begin this now," and Damian twists away and all but marches back to the console.

Bruce frowns at his back. "Could I be doing this the wrong way? I don't want him to feel *obligated* to learn to socialize."

Jason shakes his head. "I'm thinking this is the *best* way. If you go too soft, all the training he's gotten from Talia and her fucking *cronies* will kick in and he'll balk. Or lose respect for you -- which would turn you and the *rest* of us into targets."

Bruce takes a deep breath and nods --

"Who does your bedroom smell like now, B." And Jason's voice is... low. Rough.

Bruce grunts helplessly --

"Dick? Clark? Babs? Say Babs."

Bruce smiles and shakes his head, turning to look into Jason's eyes. "We almost never make love in my bedroom here. I... most often, I make love to Dick there."

Jason shivers. "I wanted that threesome so *bad* --"

"Let me -- let me tell the others --"

"Later."

"Jay --"

And Jay *yanks* Bruce's hand to his groin --

He is hard and *thickening* --

Bruce growls --

"Yeah. Yeah. It's been -- I don't *know* how long --"

"Four and a half years --"

"I should be *nineteen* --"

"Yes --"

Jason frowns. "I don't think. I don't think I am --"

"It's all right --"

"Do me, B. Just -- some part of the Cave no one goes to. It can be fast, but it's gotta be *now*."

"My love --"

"Come *on* --"

"Follow," Bruce says, but then can't bring himself to move his hand --

Jason parts his soft lips --

"You are... so beautiful --"

"The domino makes you look fucking *obscene* --"

"I'll take it off --"

"*Later*," and Jason knocks Bruce's hand away from himself and raises his eyebrows --

And Bruce takes a breath and leads them to one of the unfinished areas, where Tim has done most of his practice with his explosive pellets --

"Smells like *cordite* --"

"I'm sorry --"

"I don't *care*," and Jason drops to his knees in the dust and grit --

"*Jay* --"

"You don't know how much --"

He shakes his head and *yanks* down Bruce's shorts and jock --

Drags his face against Bruce's groin -- "What's Cassandra like?"

"Kind. Warm. Loving. Beautiful --"

"Saw *that*," and Jason pulls down Bruce's boxer-briefs much more gently -- "Oh, *Bruce* --"

"My love --"

"*Need* you. *Talk*," and Jason swallows him --

Jason *tries* to swallow him and coughs --

"*Fuck*, no *practice* --"

"Go *easy* --"

"I don't *want* to. I want --" Jason shakes his head and licks Bruce, grips the base and *works* himself on Bruce -- and gestures for more.

"She is... she is capable of reading the body language of nearly anyone. There is a vanishingly small -- *Jay* --"

Jason moans and scrapes his teeth *again* --

"Oh -- your *mouth* --"

He pulls off -- "I *know* you miss my fucked-up tooth. I wouldn't have changed it, but it got knocked out while I was on the street. The Pit made it grow in straight."

"I -- all right --"

"God, fuck, so *big* --" And Jason nuzzles him again, drags his stubbled cheek against the shaft --

"*Please* --"

"*More*, B," and he takes Bruce in again --

Bruce shudders and seizes --

Pushes his hands into Jason's too-short hair and *pulls* --

"My love -- my beautiful love --"

Jason gives him an *expectant* look --

Bruce laughs and feels himself seize, feels himself ache and *need* --

"So much *time* --"

And Jason nods, gestures for more --

"She can't -- only some metahumans and people with fakir levels of control over their autonomic functions can lie to her, or even surprise her --" 

Jason grunts --

Bruce *thrusts* --

And Jason's eyes roll back in his head. Just --

Just for *that* --

And Bruce is lost in the scent of Jason's sweat and pre-ejaculate, lost in the sound of his curses and cries --

The memories are endless and new at *once* --

"Yes -- oh, *yes*," and *then* Bruce focuses on what Jason is doing, on the feel of Jason *punishing* his own throat with the head of Bruce's penis -- "Remember -- please *remember* --"

Jason shudders and gazes at him *pleadingly* --

"I share -- I've shared my memories of you with Cassandra. She could always *feel* when I was thinking of you. *Dreaming* of you even as I buried myself in her small, powerful body --"

Jason groans and gulps once --

Twice --

Again and *again* as he does his best to *yank* Bruce's penis into his throat --

"You must *relax*, my love --"

Jason's eyes widen --

He relaxes himself more fully than he ever could when he was fifteen --

Bruce grunts *helplessly* --

And groans when Jason takes him in, when --

The tight, perfect *heat* --

The perfect *sweetness* --

Bruce pulls Jason's hair the way Jason had trained him to do -- and begins to thrust. He goes much more slowly than Jason had always demanded, at first, he --

He gives Jason *time* --

And is rewarded by the sight of Jason's eyes rolling back again as he reaches to grip himself --

To squeeze himself *viciously* hard --

"You must -- you must not *come*, my love --"

And Jason focuses on him with *dazed* hunger --

Grips Bruce's hips and *pulls* --

"Yes -- oh, yes --" And Bruce pants and gives them both faster thrusts, *hungrier* thrusts -- "Every day -- every hour *without* you --"

Jason shakes his head violently and sucks hard every time Bruce pulls out of his throat --

Scratches Bruce's *hips* --

"I *need* you, Jay -- I've always -- I've always *needed* you --"

And Jason looks up into Bruce's eyes again --

Gazes with *mournful* lust --

And there is a moment when Bruce is only his body, when there is no option save to feel everything about this moment, smell the *hints* of Jason's arousal --
"I'm -- I'm *wiser* now, I promise you --"

Jason nods and wraps his arms around Bruce's hips, squeezing hard and forcing Bruce to grind, to scrape and rub at Jason's mouth and cheeks with his pubic hair --

"Jay, *please* --"

Jason shakes his head *vehemently* -- and then keeps doing it, forcing the angle to lose perfection --

Gain roughness and --

He is *forcing* Jason's throat open --

He --

His beautiful *love* --

His --

"I wanted you as my *brother*, Jay --"

Jason coughs and *starts* to snicker -- and immediately takes him in once more --

Bruce laughs helplessly, groans and laughs *more*, and he's gasping his way through it, shaking and -- and losing his *rhythm* --

Jason urges him *on* --

Jason fumbles with his pants until -- until he can take himself out --

Oh, his beautiful penis, longer and *thicker* now --

"My -- *hnh* -- *Jay* -- *need* --"

And it's not that there aren't words -- there are thousands he'd dreamed of getting one more chance to *say* -- but he is as incapable in this moment as he had always been with Jason --

He is --

He is hunger and *greed*, and the knowledge that it's shared --

The welcome and *partnership* --

And Jason presses his knuckle against Bruce's perineum and rubs *brutally* --

"*Jay* --"

And then there is only pleasure and heat, the promise of warmth to come --

The promise of *matched* desire --

His *love* --

And Jason's *fervent* physical demands allow Bruce to ease his grip *enough* that Jason can taste him --

Jason's shuddering moan passes into him, passes *through* him as Bruce shouts --

*Again* --

And again when Jason claws his buttocks the way he has since the very first night he saw Bruce watching Selina.

("*Seriously*, B?"

"Robin, we have work to --"

"Heh. Heh. How much heat are you *packing*?")

And Bruce had smiled helplessly the way he's doing now --

Bruce had tackled Jason to the rooftop and pinned him as Jason laughed --

As he snickered and gasped --

("Perhaps you'll feel moved to check. Soon.")

Here, now, Bruce laughs and moans as Jason mouths and suckles at him gently, slowly turning pleasure to something excruciating and *lengthy* --

And Jason smiles at him with his eyes --

"Oh, Jay -- too much," Bruce says, pulling out and dropping to his own knees --

"You fuck yourself raw, B?"

Bruce laughs. "No, but I've needed your pleasure --"

"Oh -- fuck, yeah --"

"Our last night was too *brief* --"

"It was sweet, though. I could feel -- I knew you *loved* me --"

"*Always*, Jay --"

"It --" Jason smiles and shakes his head. "It was hard to believe sometimes. It -- Talia tried to use that against me --"

Bruce growls --

"Easy, easy -- fuck, get your *hands* on me --"

"I want --"

"Hands first, just -- I need it, B. Okay?"

Bruce shivers. "Anything," and Bruce cups Jason's scrotum with one hand and his penis with his other, giving himself a moment to catalog the differences in size, *heft* --

Jason moans and clutches Bruce's hands against himself --

"Tell me, Jay. Please tell me."

"She -- she wanted to fucking *turn* me, B. And when you started hooking up right and left --"

"You were with me in my *heart* --"

"That last night, B. That -- you got on your *knees* --"

"I'm *always* on my knees for you --"

"You -- you fucking *cried* --"

"The thought of *losing* you --"

"I know, I know, I'll *always* know --"

"*Jay* --"

"*Squeeze* -- *nnh* -- God, Bruce, too *long* --"

Bruce lunges in to kiss Jason and immediately regrets it. The taste of his semen overpowers Jason's flavors and Jason's sounds are too *muffled* -- but then Jason shudders and kisses him hard, makes love to Bruce's mouth with his own the way --

The way he always has --

And Bruce remembers that kissing was often an end in itself for Jason, something worthy of time and forethought, something worthy of *focus* --

Bruce will not -- *cannot* -- be ungrateful. He licks as much of the taste of himself out of Jason's mouth as he can -- and gives Jason the stroke had memorized long before he'd ever allowed himself to touch Jason the way he'd longed to --

("Fuck -- fuck, that's *my* rhythm --"

"*Yes* --"

"You *perv* --")

And Jason had laughed desperately, *hysterically* --

Jason had taken Bruce's *fist* --

Jason had laughed his way through his orgasm and *most* of the way to a second in Bruce's mouth --

And Bruce smiles helplessly --

Jason moans and arches, presses closer, *gives* --

Bruce bites Jason's lips, one and then the other, licks his broad, soft mouth --

So sensuous and *warm* --

"Anything, B, God, fuck --"

"Jay --"

"Anything for *you* --"

"*You* --"

"No, no, I'll ask for the wrong fucking *things* --"

Bruce kisses Jason again, squeezes him hard --

Jason shouts into his mouth --

Shudders and clutches at Bruce's shoulders with his large, strong hands --

His *shaking* hands --

Bruce pulls back -- "*Everything*, Jay --"

"Don't -- just don't let me *go* --"

Bruce growls and bites Jason's *throat* --

Jason screams and *bucks* --

Shakes *harder* --

"Again, do it *again* --"

Bruce growls and bites *harder*, bites the way he would only for a long weekend or the beginning of a vacation week, when the only people who would reasonably see Jason's throat were Alfred and Bruce, himself --

Jason clutches Bruce's *head* --

And cries out for the force of the bite --

For the feel of himself being worked?

For the fact that it *is* Bruce after all this time?

Oh, Talia, *why*? Have I wronged you so terribly?

Bruce shivers and licks away Jason's sweat --

"N-no -- please, c'mon, *more* --"

Bruce *bites* again --

"Yeah -- fuck, *yeah*, harder -- harder all over --"

And Bruce wants to tell Jason about how much Tim enjoys having his scrotum manipulated in just this way --

How much Cassandra enjoys Bruce's fingers on her clitoris --

How much Barbara enjoys men on their knees --

How much Stephanie enjoys *long* thrusts --

How much Dick enjoys teeth on his *throat* -- but Jason, perhaps, knows that already --

Jason should have *all* of them, and Bruce will try to give him just that, try to make up for all of his selfishness --

"*B*!"

All of his greed --

Jason should never have been held to *this* place --

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

And Bruce knows to *hold* the squeeze of Jason's scrotum until his cries become choked and *anguished* things --

Bruce feels himself twitch and *need* --

The taste of his sweat is --

"*Bruce* --!" And Jason cries out and keeps doing so, growing more and more desperate until Bruce stops biting and kisses him again, drives him *back* with his kiss --

*Swallows* his cries as Jason ejaculates all over Bruce's hand --

Bruce's *shirt* --

Bruce squeezes Jason's scrotum *hard* --

"*Unh* --" And Jason shudders and sways, pants and *grins* against Bruce's mouth. "Jesus. Fucking -- yeah."

Bruce smiles and kisses Jason again, making it slow, letting himself show *care* --

Every *hour* --

"Yeah, B, I hear you -- never *again* -- *oof* --"

But the ground here is too rough and uneven for this pin to be anything but cruel --

But Jason is grinning at him with the same cheerful *wildness* -- "You're gonna fuck me *so* hard tonight."

Bruce grunts and twitches again --

"Or right the fuck *now* --"

Bruce pushes his slick fingers into Jason's mouth --

Jason groans, lashes fluttering --

"The lack of... practice..." Bruce shakes his head. "You may have... tightened."

Jason blinks -- and looks horrified again.

Bruce smiles ruefully and pulls out in order to suck and lick his fingers himself.

"Don't *say* shit like that, B!"

Bruce hums and *looks* at Jason --

"I'm *serious*! If I have to wait to get some --"

Bruce pulls his fingers out with as obscene a sound as he can manage --

Jason *grunts* -- "Uh."

And Bruce smiles. "Are you assuming that I wouldn't vastly enjoy opening you once more?"

"Yeah, but you *wouldn't* be doing that with your *cock*. And you gotta know how much I need that."

"And I need you, to bury myself within you --"

"To -- heh -- *spend* yourself within me?"

"Hmm. I've missed the way you mock my speech patterns --"

"Tell me about Tim. The new -- well, no, tell me about him *and* Stephanie."

Bruce strokes Jason's chest. "Tim is, at first glance, bookish and quiet. Unprepossessing. More fearful than brave."

"Uh."

"On second glance, it becomes clear that none of those things are true. He has... layers of identity, as his parents turned him into a brilliant liar -- both purposefully and not -- at a very, very young age. He was at Haly's circus the same night I was --"

"*Fuck* --"

"And he met Dick."

"So... okay. I'm getting the picture, I think. He got obsessed and stayed obsessed?"

"Yes."

"And... maybe he did something dangerous like following Dick around?"

"Yes -- but only after he learned the secret."

Jason blinks. "When did *you* find him?"

"Four years later... when he saved Dick and me from... Dent."

Jason narrows his eyes -- "He's out again."

"Yes --"

"You still gone for him?"

"I --"

Jason shakes his head, gaze darkening as he turns away --

And Bruce knows that there is nothing, truly, that he can say. Not right now... and maybe not ever. Harvey had precipitated the last lie he'd ever told Jason, and there have been many times when Bruce has wondered if that hadn't counted as a greater sin for Jason than Harvey's murder of his father. Bruce strokes Jason's cheek.

Jason closes his eyes -- and presses his cheek against Bruce's fingertips. "Not everything about Talia's worldview seemed terrible, B. Not all the time."

"I know, my love."

Jason opens his eyes again and searches him -- and frowns more deeply. "What else is going on with Tim? What's the shit with Luthor?"

"Tim seduced him. Effortlessly -- and accidentally."

"Uh." Jason shakes himself like a dog. "So -- I mean, I could tell they were flirting by the footage, but --"

"It's entirely possible that the two of them are making love right now."

"But he's *yours*!"

Bruce laughs quietly. "He is his own... and Lex has fallen quite madly in love with him. Barbara is tracking many of the man's projects, and he's halted or altered the focus of every one which could be considered even immoral."

Jason stares at him.

"Once... once, I spent a great deal of time wondering if I could have such an effect on him -- considering our relationship when we were teenagers."

"Bruce, you -- okay, can we please make you stop falling in love with *bad* people?"

Bruce laughs again. "I promise to listen attentively, should you find a way to tell me how."

Jason snorts and sits up on his elbows. "So he's dating Luthor."

"Yes."

"And -- Stephanie?"

"Yes. They've been together --"

"For most of the past three years, yeah?"

Bruce smiles and strokes Jason's cheek once more. "Yes. The three of us made love for the first time the other night."

"And he's still going back to the guy who looks like an albino cock in a purple suit." Jason kicks him lightly. "Work on that, B. Seriously. You can't let a Robin get *away* from you."

"As you say. Stephanie...?"

"Uh, huh. She's pretty... she pretty fucking *stacked*. I mean, I was all set to go with the idea that she was a beard or something --"

"Tim loves her deeply. She is... he has spoken of marrying her."

"Like -- real marriage?"

"Yes."

Jason nods thoughtfully. "And she's into that?"

"For a very long time, Tim was the most -- and nearly the *only* -- important person in her life."

"Damn. Okay. So she's... she was lonely? I know her childhood was fucked."

"Abuse of various sorts and a certain degree of neglect --"

Jason frowns. "Her mother was no good, either?"

"I..." Bruce shakes his head. "And I cannot in good conscience offer more than that without her permission."

"Okay, that's fine. And -- she's a closer, yeah?"

"I believe you would find her right cross to be... a thing of beauty."

Jason grins. "Fuck, yeah. *Love* a chick who can throw a punch. Or an elbow. Those are good, too."

Bruce hums again and pushes Jason's t-shirt up, giving himself Jason's abdomen, where there are more scars he doesn't know.

Scars he must learn.

"She agrees with you wholeheartedly. She... there is a violence within her which is not wedded to darkness. There is a light within which never banks itself or fades. She is conservative, powerful in every way, inclined towards *bright* anger, and capable of both giggles and painful-sounding snorts. She is beautiful. She is... I have dreamed of her with you."

"You think she'd like me?"

"Yes. Though I believe she would be inclined toward brutality for your more crude language and behaviors."

Jason grins *brightly*. "And the cock-fucker? Wait, that doesn't work --"

Bruce hums. "I'm sure you'll come up with something appropriate. He followed Batman, Robin, and Batgirl from the time he was nine years old."

"Meaning -- he's totally watched us fuck, hasn't he."

"Several times. He... he's loved you, Jay. And mourned you --"

"Didn't stop him from taking my *place*, B --"

"It was, I believe, a way for him to be close to you, and to Dick."

"Close -- close. Uh." And for a moment, Jason's expression is thoughtful and *curious* -- but then he frowns and turns away.

"Jay..."

"Maybe -- maybe a part of me has wondered... I don't know, B."

"I could never replace you."

Jason stares at him incredulously.

Bruce laughs again. "You taught me -- effortlessly -- that love, companionship, and understanding could *all* be mine, despite every contradictory lesson which came before."

"Yeah, but --"

Bruce rests his fingers on Jason's lips and raises an eyebrow. "More to the point, you have always been utterly and perfectly yourself. You have been wise, brave, and strong. You have been loving, warm, and gentle. You have been giving --"

"B --"

"Please. I have. There is so much I have wanted to say to you --"

"I -- I love you. I didn't -- I never said it enough --"

Bruce shivers and kisses Jason again, sucks his still-swollen lips and presses close --

Jason pulls Bruce over on top of him --

And Bruce stiffens before he can be sure of why, moves --

Damian is pulling himself to attention a polite twenty feet away.

Jason snickers. "Okay, kid --"

"My name is Damian, Todd. You will -- please refer to me that way."

Jason raises his eyebrows -- then stands and fixes his clothes while Bruce does the same. "Gonna call me Jason or Jay anytime soon?"

"Do you wish me to?"

"Hey, we fucked up a bunch of Ubus and assassins together. It's totally a thing," Jason says, and winks at Bruce.

Damian frowns. "I cannot tell if you are -- I know you are not being entirely honest about your desire to have me refer to you by your first name. Please tell me why."

"Oookay. First up? We *would've* come back to get you soon, so you can learn to let people enjoy the afterglow, okay? Unless you *need* whoever is doing the fucking."

A blush -- and Damian nods. "I apologize. Please --"

"Second: You're still an unknown commodity to me. I *like* the attitude adjustment, and I *want* to like *you* -- but most of what I know about you boils down to 'snotty little kid who happens to be a murderer a bunch of times over.' Get me?"

The blush deepens -- "Yes, I do. I will continue to refer -- I will call you 'Mr. Todd.'"

Jason winces. "Uh -- no. Don't do that. Call me 'Jason,' because we *are* actually brothers."

Damian... shifts. And frowns *blackly*.

"Yeah, I know, that's confusing as fuck. Look, in the end? I don't know how deep down the attitude adjustment goes -- and I *won't* know until we've had a lot more time together. Including time where I get to watch you dealing with people when Daddy's *not* around --"

"I am not a hypocrite! Nor... nor am I some sort of sycophant!"

"Kid --"

"*No* --"

"*Damian*, fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" And Jason raises his hands and pushes at the air.

Damian scowls and turns to *him*. "Father, Pennyworth and Cain have returned with the afternoon meal, and wish for you -- for *both* of you -- to join them. Please tell me what message I should bring," and Damian is staring over Bruce's right shoulder again.

Bruce crouches in front of the boy --

His *son* --

His wounded, ill-trained, ill-*used* -- "Little one, do you also wish me to call you only by your name?"

"You may call me what you wish, Father --"

"Tell me *your* wishes. Please."

Damian... struggles. That much is clear in every aspect of his expression --

And Jason is pacing, clearly upset for upsetting Damian --

"It's all right, Damian. I must know your wishes so that I may come to know *you*."

Damian takes a deep breath. "Yes, Father. I enjoy 'little one.' You may continue to refer to me that way. If you wish."

It's tempting -- terribly so -- to ask Damian *why* he enjoys it...

Bruce knows that in a similar situation he would find such a question tortuous. "Thank you, Damian," Bruce says, and strokes Damian's hair --

"I do not require --" Damian stops himself and scowls once more. "I apologize. I will improve my performance as quickly as possible. I would like to demonstrate my other skills."

"There will be time for that. For now, please allow me to hug you."

"Of course, Father," Damian says, and raises his arms --

Bruce pulls him close and lifts him into the air --

"*Oh* -- *Father* --"

"This," Bruce says, and pulls Damian's head against his shoulder before walking them back toward the conference table, "is one of my favorite ways to provide physical affection. Please relax yourself."

"I. Yes, Father," Damian says, and goes loose. "Usually. Usually this sort of thing ends in me being thrown against something hard, Father."

"I will only do that for your own safety."

"In case of... a bomb?"

"Yes, that would be one example. For other sorts of throws, I will not be holding you in this way."

Jason snickers, moving up to walk beside them. "I can think of another way you can hold him."

Bruce hums. "I think not, Jay --"

"I would like to know," Damian says, and pats Bruce's shoulders, seemingly experimentally.

"I... all right," and Bruce moves Damian in his arms until he is carrying him the way he would carry a lover. The way -- "I carried your mother this way once."

"I -- wow. I think I need to apologize to myself for starting this," Jason says, and punches Bruce's biceps. "Go back to the hug."

Damian is staring at him with wide, full eyes --

And Bruce chooses not to ask. It --

It can be for another time.

Bruce moves Damian back into the hug position, supporting him with an arm beneath his buttocks until he locks his arms around Bruce's neck and his legs around Bruce's waist -- "All right?"

"There is no dignity to this position, Father."

"Many wonderful -- and tactically useful -- things demand that dignity be wholly abandoned."

Damian is silent for a long moment --

Approximately one hundred yards away, Cassandra is dancing around Clark, who has returned wearing his Clark Kent clothing -- which is a message about just how he wishes to present himself to Damian.

And Damian lifts his head and turns to Jason. "Jason. Do you also feel that dignity is... less important."

Jason raises his eyebrows -- and then nods. "Fuck, yeah. I mean, leaving *aside* the whole thing where dignity for *you* is not even close to being dignity for *me* -- and probably not for Stephanie, either, yeah?"

Bruce hums. "Not from what I've observed."

"Yeah. Anyway -- I know they taught you a lot about how to present yourself to which person *when*, but you have to throw that shit out the window and take each person as they come, and you have to do that *every* time you meet up with them, because people *change*. Talia *knows* that in her bones -- if she didn't, she wouldn't have been as successful as she *has* been -- so I don't really know why..." Jason shakes his head. "Anyway. You can keep your dignity as much as you want, Damian -- but don't even think about letting it hold you *back*."

Another long silence --

Clark is beaming at all of them --

Clark may very well have been leaving -- more -- Fortress-created stasis bottles of the muscle-relaxing lubricant at strategic points around the manor --

And Damian clears his throat. "I will. I will consider your advice. In the spirit in which it was given. Thank you."

"You're welcome, bro," and Jason punches Damian's biceps... not significantly lighter than he had punched Bruce's.

Damian blushes deeply --

And Bruce takes the opportunity to hug him more firmly.

*

Tim wakes up more slowly and comfortably than he has since the last night Flamebird had allowed R-4 -- Jason's return had made it *necessary* to number Robins more chronologically-*accurately* -- to seduce him back to the suburbs. He's warm enough that for a long moment he can only wonder if he'd somehow *forgotten* falling asleep with someone --

He could've sworn that he'd informed all of his lovers that he wished to be alone last night --

His last night of *healing*, because it turned out that he was mildly allergic to the AI's surgical lubricant of choice, and so could not entirely heal until the nanites had trained themselves to attack the traces of the lubricant in his bloodstream.

A week and a half of low activity is a lot better than weeks or months -- but.

Bruce had bent utensils during three of their past four meals together.

Steph has barely managed to stop herself from face-planting on his chest no less than five times.

Dick has been known to spend the entire length of a conversation with his hands up and fingers curled in just *so*.

Cassandra hugs him more often, and in more positions.

Jason has taken to calling him the Ladyboy Wonder -- which may or may *not* be better than Flamerbird -- though not where Bruce or Steph can hear him -- and not when Tim has him by the scrotum, which is something that happens fairly often.

Barbara had unveiled several -- fully-stocked -- Bird-appropriate (and thus appropriate in no other way whatsoever) uniforms for Tim's use.

Bart has taken up sketching, as he finds even the best digital cameras far too slow.

Kon trails off every time he looks *down*.

He's only seen Roy *once* since the surgery, but his smile had been... itself, and the tour through the collection of nipple toys he keeps mostly for female-bodied people had been... illuminating.

Connor has been a perfect gentleman, but he'd sent four more e-mails this week than his usual, and there were a rather telling number of questions about Tim's experiences training female vigilantes.

And Lex...

Tim smiles and hums to himself, settling more comfortably. His time sense tells him that it's before noon -- still early enough to laze, and this is something he *can't* always allow himself to do, and so he appreciates it when he *can* --

Lex had called in two of his four tailors on their last date, and now the only question is whether they'll have his designs ready for Tim's use before or *after* Bruce's tireless work on his assorted sewing machines is complete.

He really doesn't know how he feels about the knowledge -- dropped with *casual* good cheer -- that Damian has been *helping* Bruce, but... but.

It almost certainly has far more to do with the fact Damian remains invested in spending as much time with Bruce as possible than with anything else, as Damian *also* continues to view Tim's decision to alter his body in a way which gives Tim more vulnerabilities with his intriguing variety of scrupulously polite contempt.

Damian will *absolutely* be punching Tim in the breast during their next spar... assuming Tim allows it to happen. So will everyone *else* he spars with, truly, but Damian will almost certainly mean it more. Tim smiles to himself and wonders who it will turn out to be. For some reason, he's having a hard time smelling much of anything other than the detergent Alfred uses for his sheets and his own conditioner -- hm.

Is he picking up a head cold of some sort? Tim breathes deeply just to see -- no, there's no blockage, and --

And there's nothing stopping him. He'd been healed *enough* by the time he'd gone to bed last night, and --

Tim smiles more broadly and cups his breasts, which fall just *slightly* toward his obliques when he's on his back, and which hang nearly the way Cassandra's do when he's standing up.

It had been a truly frivolous decision to place his cup size firmly *between* B and C -- Bruce simply won't always be *around* to make Tim's bras -- but Bruce had smiled so *brightly* when Tim had formally asked him to make him an entire set of underwear for every possible occasion --

Well. There's nothing to say he *has* to treat the underwear in question *roughly*, and --

And... it's odd.

He's happy. He's awake. He's --

Well, now he's officially feeling himself up, and he keeps forgetting to *check* who's sharing his bed. It's just too *warm* for him to be alone --

And he feels so good. So --

Warm all over, really.

Warm all *through* himself --

And somewhat languid. And -- perhaps less happy than *euphoric* --

He's been drugged.

*Again*.

"*Dick*," Tim says, opening his eyes --

To find Clark hovering over him.

"Oh -- ah. Where's Dick?"

Clark smiles, incandescently-glowing eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Or... no, he's the only one who would gas --"

"*I* drugged you, Tim."

"Ah. What?"

Clark smiles more broadly and floats down toward the foot of the bed -- not far. It's impossible to tell where *precisely* he's focusing, but his attention certainly seems to be on Tim's breasts --

Which Tim is still holding. Still --

Tim lets go --

And Clark sighs and catches them before they can flop to the sides.

"*Clark*. The answer is *no*."

Clark laughs softly. "I know that, Tim. I know that very, very well," he says, and --

Heat --

*Suck* --

Tim grunts. His nipples are --

His nipples aren't supposed to be this *sensitive* anymore --

"Clark --"

"One of the many lubricants -- mm, you really are lovely --"

"*Thank* you, but Clark --"

"Please be quiet for a few moments...?"

Tim stares at Clark. Just -- stares.

Clark laughs again, and strokes the bridge of Tim's nose. "I know, I know. You truly didn't see this coming. You..." Clark sighs. "You didn't think I *would*."

Tim -- swallows. "I -- perhaps we should talk --"

"No, Tim. Though I won't say you can't speak, at all. There are some things... well. There are *many* things I've wanted to hear you say to me over the years, but I hope for some of them more than others," Clark says, and *slaps* Tim's nipples with his tongue, right, then left --

"*Clark* --"

Back and forth --

"You -- please --"

Over and *over* -- until he stops. And hums. "Where was I?"

"*Explaining* yourself!" Except --

Except that he doesn't, actually, have to.

Considering everything he's said about his sexual fantasies involving Clark to Lex --

And Barbara --

And Jason --

And Bruce --

And -- right.

Clark has his eyebrows raised.

Tim -- winces. "All right. I'll -- I'll admit that I've been... ah. Provoking --"

"Certainly you've been *thought*-provoking, Tim," and Clark looks... cheerful.

Tim frowns. It -- it feels decidedly *wrong* on his face, actually. Like --

Well, of course, there *are* other facial expressions he could be making --

Tim rubs at his own cheeks --

Clark kisses him there. "Oh, yes, I was telling you what I've drugged you with."

"Ah... yes. That would be... helpful --"

"First, I had the AI lubricate your rectum with a lubricant I'd planned to offer the world years ago -- it has wonderful moisturizing qualities -- but which tends to inebriate humans rather extremely... after first making them lose consciousness."

"I... hadn't heard of that one."

Clark smiles again --

Stabs Tim's navel with his *tongue* --

"*Oh* --"

And moves to hover at eye-level again. "I have a great deal of free time, as these things go. I would very much like to discuss my projects and hobbies with you sometime --"

"We could --"

"But not now. Now... I'm going to rape you."

"Ah. Fuck --"

"That, too. You see, Tim, I had to wait until you had given your wonderfully *sturdy* rectum something of a *rest*. Which is something you haven't actually done since you were *thirteen*."

"I. Oh."

Clark smiles... sunnily. "In any event, once your heart rate sped to waking levels, I massaged your breasts with one of the *other* lubricants I've been working on -- this one for people with massive scarring and other sensitivity issues -- which, well, *increases* sensitivity. A lot."

And, now that Clark mentions it --

Now that Tim's *thinking* about it --

His breasts are... tingling. And warmer than the rest of him. And --

His nipples haven't been this hard since before the surgery -- no. Tim touches them gently --

They haven't been this hard... ever.

"Oh... Tim. Pinch them for me?"

"Clark --"

"I'm afraid that was the wrong answer," Clark says --

And Tim is abruptly on his hands and knees -- "*Clark* --"

"Did it ever occur to you how *much* of an insult it was for you to share your fantasies about me with *Luthor*?"

"I --"

"That was a yes or no question. But not important, in the grand scheme of things," Clark says, sighing and starting to *spank* --

"*Ahn* -- *ah* -- *please* --"

"Oh, that's beautiful, Tim. Truly. I haven't decided how much I'm going to hurt you today --"

"*Clark* -- you don't -- you shouldn't -- oh, *fuck* --"

"Yes, you *do* always enjoy having your scrotum spanked, don't you? Certainly, you let Luthor do it to you entirely too often," and Clark squeezes *hard* --

Tim *shouts* --

Clark sighs again. "You're not fighting."

"There's no *point* --"

"That's entirely true. Still... you don't think it would heighten the experience for you? You're a wonderful fighter in every way, and that sort of thing *does* tend to impact on sexuality," Clark says, and sounds... hopeful.

Tim knows his expression is *pinched*, but --

Clark laughs again. "Oh, Tim. You could fight *that* way, as well."

Well. "How do you think *Bruce* is going to respond to this?"

"That *would* be a concern, yes, but..."

"But *what*? *Nnh* --"

And Clark licks up Tim's spine *again* --

*Again* --

Clark scrapes his teeth over the perennially-bruised *base* of Tim's spine --

"*Clark* --"

"Did you really think I would let you go before I'd finished programming you to behave?"

Tim's jaw drops --

And his penis twitches. That --

That's something --

Tim looks up and looks *around* -- and, yes, he's most assuredly in the Fortress. Clark had, for reasons of his own, brought Tim's *bed* with him. And his bedside table.

And his favorite lamp.

Tim licks his lips and --

"More, Tim?"

"Clark. I -- I really think --"

"Did you know that you nearly always lie when you use the word 'really' that way?"

Tim blushes. Hard. "Ah -- I did know that. Actually. I still think --"

"How much should I hurt you, fine one?"

Fine -- "I'm going to vote 'not enough to keep me from *patrolling* --'"

"But enough to make things interesting for you?"

"I -- I didn't say that --"

"But you meant it," Clark says, and there's no question in his voice, no --

It's matter-of-*fact* -- "You haven't wanted to rape me since I was thirteen," Tim says, and works on sounding forbidding --

"You're absolutely right. But I've wanted to do this -- specifically *this*," Clark says, and pushes two fingers *deep* --

Tim is *slick* inside -- "*Clark* --"

"Since the night the treads of your boots filled with salty slush and you nearly tumbled off the roof of the Marchesi building."

Tim hears himself make a *strangled* sound --

"Oh... again?" And Clark starts to --

To *thrust* --

There's only so much --

He hadn't *let* himself have any anal stimulation in nearly two *weeks* because he knew he would have to *ride*... and make his new breasts bounce. He.

He feels himself *heating* more, and --

Tim opens his mouth to tell -- to *order* -- Clark to stop --

But nothing comes out but a moan. And another. And --

He's flushing.

He's *sweating* --

"Do you remember that night, Tim...? You worked so hard to land on your back, and you protected --"

"The -- the *camera* --"

Clark hums. "Oh, yes. You were... oh, I suppose you were just about eleven then, weren't you."

Another non-question. Another --

He doesn't have to *answer*. If he just stays right here and proceeds to be *dull*, he can --

He can scream, apparently, because Clark is pressing on Tim's prostate and vibrating his *fingers* --

"Note how slick you remain. You'll be ready for me for, oh... hours."

"Cl--" But he's screaming again --

And *again* --

Clark is fucking him *and* vibrating --

Tim clutches at the *sheets* --

*Tries* to grit his teeth --

He can't stop screaming. He can't --

He can feel himself leaking, *thickening* --

"Oh, in the interests of full disclosure, I -- *mm*. Oh, that was a wonderful clench. I *didn't* give you any of the aphrodisiacs I have at my disposal."

And Tim makes another strangled noise --

"Oh, thank you *very* much for that sound," Clark says, and pulls *out* --

"*Hnh* --"

And starts to *spank* Tim again --

*Harder* --

*Faster* --

There's no *point* in trying to get away --

But he can't let himself arch up into the spanks. He can't -- encourage? Tim laughs somewhat hysterically --

And Clark pauses.

Tim *pants* --

<<Fine one, I will have everything of you.>>

Tim grunts -- "Kal --"

"No, not truly... but I did want to see how you reacted to that sort of thing. You never did say *which* of my identities was supposed to rape you."

*You* -- Tim swallows.

And doesn't grip his penis --

And *stops* clawing at the sheets --

He... stills himself. He evens his breathing as best as he can. He --

"One moment," Clark says, and seems to *hiss* briefly --

And then there just *are* strange *caps* clinging to his breasts. They expose the nipples and areolae --

They tighten *alarmingly* --

"Does that hurt, Tim?"

"I. I don't --" No. He's not talking --

"Your scent suggests that the sensations are *confusing*... hm. This will help," and Clark hisses again --

And Tim shouts again, *jerks* for the feel of the caps gaining texture, sharp *points* --

*Moving* points --

"They will not scar you, or even break the skin --"

"*Clark* --"

"They will, however, continue to stimulate you until I tell them to stop."

Tim -- pants more.

Tries to --

He can't *focus* past the feel of his breasts being *scratched* by the dozens of tiny points --

He's *shaking* --

He's *moving* -- writhing --

And Clark moans. He.

Tim feels himself blushing *helplessly*, but he can't *stop* writhing on his knees --

His hands and knees --

Tim kneels up and -- no. He won't reach for them. He won't -- he wouldn't be able to pull them off *anyway* --

He balls his hands into fists and tosses his head --

No, he has to *stop* that --

Clark moans *again* -- and then he's in front of Tim, hovering on his knees in the air and stroking himself at a *human* conception of a fast pace.

"You. You have to know how *incredibly* problematic it is... for you to --" Tim swallows and *shudders* --

"Oh. Yes, Tim?"

"To get *off* on this!"

Clark smiles *brightly* -- and aims his penis at Tim's mouth.

"Clark --"

"Your pain, fine one...? Your..." Clark sighs and squeezes himself --

Pre-come leaks from the head and drips down to the bed between them --

Drips and *drips* -- "Perhaps I shouldn't enjoy the heat in your eyes? So *human*..."

"You --"

"Or --" Clark licks his lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't enjoy your shuddering, or the way you're moving the way Dick would for my *tongue*?"

Tim grunts and *stills* himself -- but the caps on his breasts are just --

Tim grits his teeth --

Clark hisses --

And the scratching is faster --

Harder --

"*Clark*!"

Clark smiles with lazy *heat* --

He can do anything to Tim.

He can --

He can *keep* Tim here and impersonate his voice for comm-calls.

He can hurt Tim badly enough today to make him require *healing* -- and Tim wouldn't be able to resist the healing processes, at all.

He can keep Tim *awake* --

And he can put Tim to sleep anytime he wants to... and dictate and *view* Tim's dreams.

Tim swallows and shudders --

Tim's penis starts to twitch --

Scratch.

Scratch.

*Scratch* --

Tim cries out and claps his hands to the caps --

"Tim, don't --"

The sensation --

The -- the huge, bright *wave* of it --

Tim gasps --

It doesn't stop, it won't --

Tim gasps *again* --

"Oh, fine one... scream."

Tim jerks his gaze to Clark's face --

Clark's *mouth* is open --

There's another wave --

And *another* --

And Tim realizes that he *is* screaming, that he's tossing his head and --

Clark comes on him.

His cheek. His throat. His other cheek. His left nipple. His *penis* --

"Nuh -- *please*!"

"No," Clark says, bending Tim back over Tim's own legs and licking him clean *just* slowly enough for Tim to be able to feel every lick --

Every slick *strike* --

"No, I think --" And Clark *suckles* Tim's nipple -- "I can make you lactate, you know."

"*What*?"

"It's only that I enjoy human breast milk so very -- well." Clark sucks *harder* --

"Clark -- *Clark* --"

Clark sucks the *other* nipple --

"No -- oh --" The scratching has stopped.

It --

His breasts are *warm*, and the skin is *prickling* --

"Yes, Tim...?"

Tim blushes and squeezes his eyes shut --

The scratching starts again, fast and *hard* --

"Please, *no* --"

"Open. Your. Eyes."

Tim does --

And the scratching stops immediately. He --

He'd just --

"The fact that you've continued to deny Luthor the opportunity to formally dominate you is, truly, the only thing saving you from being dosed with the drugs which stimulate lactation in humans. Unless... would you like to be?"

He could be --

Jason might like --

*Bruce* would *love* -- and Tim could be even closer to being... right.

Right *some* of the time --

Clark smiles *brightly* --

And Tim hasn't blushed this much in a very, very long time.

"Will you be my beautiful girl, fine one? I promise to treat you just as cruelly."

"*Nnh* -- Clark --"

"One moment," Clark says, and *quickly* licks the semen away from Tim's penis and groin -- and then swallows Tim.

"Ohn -- oh, please --"

Clark pulls back --

Tim cries *out* --

"Are you begging for pleasure, Tim?"

Tim -- looks away --

And, this time, the scratching makes him sway --

Makes him moan and clench his *fists* --

He can't *take* this, he can't possibly --

Faster --

*Faster* --

That sound was a *wail* --  choked off by Clark's penis. He can't --

He's facing forward --

He looks *up*, and Clark is grinning down at him as he thrusts --

As he pushes and *shoves* --

"Such a wonderful *expression*, fine one. So -- mm. So desperate and *lost* to the sensations... do you know how much I love you? Can you feel it?"

Tim squeezes his eyes shut --

"No, Tim. Here," Clark says, and the spikes get *longer* --

Tim tries to scream and *can't* --

Clark thrusts *deep* -- and stays there.

Just --

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

He hasn't had a deep breath in... how long?

His heart starts to *pound* --

His penis twitches --

Sound begins to -- to --

And Clark strokes Tim's hair and smiles again. "The drugs for lactation... well, there are some emotional side effects, unfortunately. Still, if you *would* like it...?"

Tim blushes again --

Blushes *and* flushes -- the compounds are almost certainly anti-psychotics. Assuming they're anything like drugs humans have developed --

He *shouldn't* assume --

<<I can give you much, fine one. If I choose to.>> "But I don't think I will today. Perhaps if you perform better."

Tim's penis twitches *again* --

And this time it doesn't stop. Not --

Eighty seconds. Ninety?

Clark sighs, slowly and luxuriantly. "Suck me, please. If I like the way you do it... then I'll let you breathe before you lose consciousness."

Tim feels his eyes try to remove themselves from his *head* --

Black --

Tim shudders and sucks as hard as he can -- which isn't very with Clark in his *throat* --

Clark laughs quietly --

And Tim realizes that he hadn't said anything about moving. Tim closes his eyes --

Remembers and *opens* them --

<<Good pet.>>

Tim pulls back and *growls* -- and *then* sucks, working his head the way he does when Jason grunts just the right way --

When Roy wears the frenum ladder --

When Lex is just a little too *himself* --

He doesn't breathe.

He doesn't --

He *can* breathe --

Black --

He doesn't. He doesn't. He *doesn't*, and when Clark moans and starts to thrust --

When he *grips* the back of Tim's head without stilling it --

"Beautiful -- so *sharp* -- "

Tim growls --

Black.

Black --

Tim comes back to himself with Clark's penis deep in his throat --

He's clutching Clark's *hips* --

And he doesn't have to breathe if he doesn't want to. He doesn't have to do *anything*... save for whatever Clark wants.

It shouldn't be a revolutionary *thought* --

It --

He's had these fantasies for *years*. He wasn't even *Robin* yet when they began --

Black --

*No* -- and Tim wraps his fist around the base of Clark's penis and squeezes *hard* --

Clark grunts and *shudders* --

Anything he wants.

*Everything* he wants -- and there had been a time when Bruce starred in those fantasies --

Occasionally Ted Grant --

Hal Jordan -- once, less than four days before he'd lost his mind in that exceedingly horrifying *way* --

The question of *will* --

His own will -- and Clark's. Tim looks up again, and Clark is staring at him hungrily. *Into* him. He's fought back his heat vision enough that his eyes are only rimmed with purple, and he is --

Black.

Black.

Black --

Tim gasps -- "*No*!"

"Shh, shh, it's all right, Tim," and Clark is hovering over him again -- 

Tim's on his *back* -- "I wanted -- I'm not *done* --"

Clark kisses him, eyes closed and mouth warm, hot , *wet* --

Tim shudders and moans --

He can still taste Clark's penis, still -- so male with such strange salt --

His saliva is too *sweet* --

And he stops caring when Clark starts fucking his mouth with his tongue. Just -- it feels *thicker* than a human tongue, and it *is* harder --

More mobile --

More -- clever? Devastating?

Tim feels himself blushing and sucks it, making his mouth as tight as he can --

Clark *grunts* --

*Speeds* his tongue --

And then pulls back. <<My fine one has decided to behave...?>>

*His* fine one --

And what, precisely, does behaving *mean* in this context -- no.

Tim smiles, knowing it's the one which tends to make Lex scowl and Bruce drop to his knees -- and Steph punch him.

Clark narrows his eyes.

"Please, Clark. Please don't hurt me."

Clark parts his lips and searches him --

"Please don't... don't make me come like this --"

"How."

Tim licks his teeth. "Please don't rape me, Clark. I -- I'm very sorry."

Clark growls *impressively* --

And Tim lets his eyes go heavy-lidded. "I can be good, Clark. I can... behave."

"Can you."

Oh -- yes. "Yes, Clark. I can be -- so, so good --"

"I don't think that's true, fine one."

Tim doesn't grind -- wait. Tim grinds up against Clark's abdomen -- "Please. I only need..."

"What."

Tim opens his mouth and pants --

"*Speak*."

"Nnh -- I need... I need *love*, Clark -- *mm* --"

But the kiss is *brief* before Clark pulls back -- "You *test*!"

Tim... shifts, and lets his eyes be as honest as he can make them, as *open* --

Clark blinks -- "Tim...?"

"Just this, Clark: Kidnap me at least once a month."

Clark *grunts* --

And Tim lets himself slip back into something -- someone -- a little more comfortable. And a little more *uncomfortable* for absolutely *everyone* else. He swallows.

He licks his lips. "Please. You can... you can be gentle..."

Clark's eyes *flare* --

Tim winces for the light --

And Clark doesn't dim his eyes even a little. Oh... yes. Tim licks his lips again. "Dick... Dick told me you were the gentlest man he's ever known --"

"Dick *earned* my care, sluttish one."

Oh -- fuck. Tim licks his lips again -- "I... I could suck you --"

"No."

"Or. You could... you could fuck my throat --"

"No."

Tim grunts. "*Please*, Clark --"

"Prepare yourself," Clark says, and then Tim's knees just *are* against his chest --

And the slick head of Clark's *hot* penis is pressed to his hole.

"You have five seconds -- hmm. No, you don't," and Clark starts pushing --

One relentless fraction of an inch at a time --

Tim is barely *stretched* --

"*Please*!"

"You can take this, slatternly one --"

That -- was another strangled noise --

"More to the point," Clark says, and shows his *teeth* -- "You *will* take this."

Tim groans --

Gasps for the feel of the head making it in past -- oh --

Oh, fuck, no -- but he can't stop himself from clenching --

He shouts and *arches* --

And Clark keeps pushing, keeps --

And this is Bruce at his slowest and hungriest --

This is Lex when Tim lets him *think* for long enough that he can have control --

This is *Clark*, and it's every hopeful smile, every patiently disappointed frown, every secret *flash* from behind a blandly mild expression --

It's just that those flashes were too fast to see. Too --

"Tim..."

But he has a role to play. He has a *game* to play, and it would all be just a little too disappointing if he couldn't just because there's an incredibly large penis causing important parts of his mind to *melt* -- so. "No, Clark, *don't* --"

"It's too late for that -- that sort of thing, Tim..."

Was it too late when I was eleven -- no, not that. "*Please*, you're too *big*!"

Clark's eyes -- cross. For just long enough that Tim can see it. Which *strongly* suggests that he has a little too much control, considering the fact that he's *almost* all the way in.

Tim clenches again --

Shouts -- and it's *almost* too loud for him to hear Clark grunt, but there's *no* hiding the shudder --

It goes on and *on* --

"Clark -- oh, it *hurts*!"

Clark pants -- "As well it should. You deserve... no less," and Clark starts to rock --

Starts to *move* Tim with his rocks --

"*Unh* -- fuck --" More -- wait, no -- "Clark, don't do this!"

"You may beg, fine one. I find... I find that I would like to hear that," and Clark *grinds* --

"*Ohn* --"

"Very. Very. *Much*."

"God -- fuck -- *please* -- I mean --"

Clark grinds *faster* --

"*Clark* --"

"*What* do you mean?" And his eyes are bright enough now that they're impossible to even *glance* at --

He's --

Every thrust is friction and *heat* --

"You -- you'll make me *raw* --"

"You need help learning *continence*."

*Continence* --

He's not going to laugh --

But he is going to *moan*, because Clark isn't grinding so much as he's thrusting --

And it's the rhythm Tim had taught Bruce to use on him. It --

One *short* thrust after another --

One dragging *push* against his prostate after another --

"Clark --"

"Do you -- *mm* -- do you have anything worthwhile to say, little pet?"

Rather too close to Bruce's 'little *one*' for Damian --

Save for those parts of him which honestly want Clark to keep *talking* --

"*Ahn* --!"

Clark shows his teeth -- and continues to rub Tim's nipples with his thumbs.

It's a *light* touch --

Tim can *see* that --

And he can't stop crying out, he can't --

"Did I mention that the sensitivity-increasing lubricant gains intensity over time...?"

Clark's fingers are *smooth*, but this is like being molested with stiffened *Robin* gauntlets, only *hotter* -- "Please --"

"Will you..." Clark sighs and speeds *up* -- "Will you *fight*?"

*No* -- but.

"Oh, you *writhe*. Did you think I would be gentle with such a slut as you?"

Tim blushes and shakes his head --

"*Speak*."

"Clark -- Clark, it --" But Tim is groaning again, wincing and --

Oh, those are *tears* -- but Clark is *pinching* Tim's nipples --

*Pulling* on them, and Tim screams helplessly --

Stares up at Clark and tries to *think* --

But all that happens is that he screams again, clutches at the backs of his own knees, *shakes* --

"*Tim*."

"It's too much! It's -- *hnh* -- *hnh* -- *ahn* --"

Harder --

*Faster* --

"Such treatment..." Clark shows his teeth and turns enough to shoot a short burst of his heat vision at the *wall* before turning back -- "Such treatment is your *due* --"

"Oh -- *yes* --"

"*All* you -- *deserve* --"

"Yes, *please* --"

"*Take*," Clark growls, and he leans in --

Holds Tim's legs back with his weight --

His impossible *strength* --

And now it's impossible to get more than sips of air --

Impossible not to shout those sips right back out every time Clark *slams* in --

Oh --

Oh, *God* --

And Clark *grins* at him --

Clark can smell --

And coming makes him throw his head back and arch *uselessly* against Clark's weight --

Makes him strangle his way through a scream and squeeze his eyes shut --

"Oh, no, not *that*," Clark says, laughing and *hissing* --

And the scratch of the spikes on his breasts makes him scream more, *ejaculate* more --

The caps are growing up over his nipples and areolae, and the first drag of the spikes *there* --

Tim feels himself *seize* --

But his eyes are open again, and that means Clark will make the spikes *stop*. That --

He doesn't have to stop them.

He doesn't have to stop them, at *all* --

He doesn't have to do more than laugh and *fuck* --

"*Clark*!"

"Say -- *nn* -- say please again, little pet..."

"*Please* -- please, fuck, *stop* those things --"

Clark sighs. "I don't -- I don't think so, Tim. However..." And Clark hisses --

And something like a *tentacle* grows from the wall and into his *mouth* --

His *throat* --

It's smooth and sleek and *warm* --

And leaking.

What -- but he's even hotter than he was before. He's getting *harder* again. He's --

He just locked his legs around Clark's *chest* --

He's flexing his pectorals in an attempt to get the spikes to scratch him *more* --

He's *sucking* the tentacle --

And Clark is smiling. "Yes, pet. Like that... almost."

*Please* -- and can the AI hear him like this? What sort of interface had it left him with? Does he *want* --

No, he does, just like he wants every moment of being flipped into a straddle of Clark's hips --

Every *second* of gravity pushing him further onto Clark's penis --

The tentacle is *fucking* his mouth --

Tim is clutching at the caps on his breasts --

"*Ride*, fine pet, little slut -- *hnh* --"

There's no way not to clench --

There's no way to do anything but let the fever in him -- no. There's a *riot* in his blood, and the only way to pacify it --

He doesn't *want* to pacify it --

Tim clenches harder and *bounces* on Clark's penis, screaming around the tentacle --

Watching Clark squeeze *his* eyes shut --

The glow shines *through* his lids -- not enough. Tim tries to say Clark's name, tries to *urge* --

Clark groans and fires off another burst of heat vision, and this time Tim can smell something decidedly non-human in origin *melting* --

Tim shakes his head and groans --

Clark reaches out and waves his arm too fast to be seen -- the smell dissipates --

And then Clark's hands are on Tim's hips --

Clark's gaze is heating the air *between* them --

And Tim wants to say yes, more, *now*, but the only things coming out are slurred grunts and chopped versions of Clark's *name* --

"*Fine* one --"

"*NNH* --"

And Tim claws Clark's perfect chest --

Tim flexes open enough to ride *faster* --

"Oh -- oh --" And Clark *bucks* --

Gasps and tosses his head --

"*Tim* --"

And then they're shouting *together*, because Clark's come is hot, slick, *copious* --

Clark is shuddering so *hard* --

And it's easier to ride him. Easier and *better* --

Tim smiles around the tentacle -- no. He yanks the tentacle *out*. "Clark."

Clark pants and *stares* at him --

Tim *clenches* --

Clark arches and slams back *down* --

"Call me a slut again, Clark..."

"Tim --"

"Call me... a trollop? A roundheels?" Tim clenches *again* --

"Of course -- of course you're *more* --"

"Worse?"

"So much *better* --"

"I don't *feel* better, Clark. I feel... dirty," and Tim pinches Clark's nipples and *yanks* --

Clark hisses --

And the caps over his breasts start *sucking* -- mouthing?

What --

Tim can't keep himself from riding *faster* --

"So -- oh, beautiful --"

"Clark --"

"Everything, fine one --"

"*Clark* --"

"I only -- how much can you *take*?"

"More -- *more*," and Tim tries to drive himself faster, tries --

He's salivating and clenching *randomly* --

He's grunting for every --

Every one of Clark's *bucks* --

And this could be better. It --

"Clark -- I want --"

"*Tell* me --"

"Hands --"

And Clark is sitting up and touching him, stroking and holding, petting and *squeezing* --

There's no way to *predict* -- "*Please*, Clark --"

"Fine one, oh -- I *must* --" And Clark kisses him, makes love to Tim's mouth with *fast* care --

Gentle and *wet* --

Tim moans and clenches *hard*, and he'd meant --

He'd meant hands and *knees*, but this --

His penis is rubbing against Clark's abdomen--

Clark's hot and *slick* abdomen --

Tim groans and bounces *faster*, *harder* --

Clark *clutches* him and pulls back -- "More, Tim?"

"More --"

Another hiss --

And Tim's breasts are free, bouncing like --

Like --

Tim growls and *grins*, and it feels strange on his face, but this --

It's what he's *wanted*! He bounces as fast as he *can* --

"Fine one -- oh, fine one --"

"Clark -- *yes*, Clark --"

"So *fast* --"

"*More*! Please, *more*!"

Clark gasps -- then narrows his eyes and smiles like a *predator* --

Tim growls --

And Clark's big, smooth, *hot* hands are on his hips -- "Prepare yourself --"

"*No* --!"

"Say -- say that all you wish, fine one, beautiful one, so sweet --" And Clark groans and moves him --

So --

*So* --

Tim throws his head back and *screams* for it --

He could *never* move that fast, and the only reason it's *working* is because of all the *come* in him --

All --

Tim screams again --

Tim clutches his breasts -- *no*. Tim lets his breasts *bounce* --

Lets Clark fuck all the noise *out* of him --

*Force* it out of him with his *penis* -- wait.

"*No*, Clark!"

Clark grunts and *twitches* in him --

Tim groans and *shudders* -- "No -- no, *don't*!"

Clark *growls* --

"Please don't -- don't fuck me so hard I can't *see* --"

Clark gasps a laugh --

And then Tim just *is* on his hands and knees --

"*Deeper*, fine one --"

"Nuh --" And then Tim is *howling*, because that thrust was powerful, long, *deadly* --

His breasts are almost *waving* --

"Beautiful, so *beautiful* --"

Anyone could want him, anyone would want to give him *this* --

And Tim is heating all over again, flushing like someone --

He *is* drugged, and laughing makes things *judder* inside him, makes him gasp and yowl and *shake* --

*Scream* when Clark starts hitting his prostate every *time* --

"You must -- you must *come*, fine one --"

"Please don't -- h-hurt -- *ohn* -- *ohn* -- *oh* --!"

Hand --

Hand on his penis --

He *can't* see outside of flashes and *strobes* of *light* -

Clark *squeezes* --

Black --

But then Tim is screaming for it, almost *shrieking* --

Tim is coming and beating at the bed --

*Milking* Clark --

"*Tim*!"

He can't --

There's so much heat --

His penis is twitching so *much* --

"Oh, *yes*, Tim!"

Tim tries one more -- "I'm so *sorry*!"

Clark roars like *Bruce* --

Black --

Tim coughs and *groans* --

Struggles to stay *up* as the heat and pleasure and *pain* roll through him --

He's throbbing and *slumping* --

But Clark *moves* them again -- no, moves *himself* --

And it's *necessary* to flex his thighs together because Clark is fucking *them* --

Fucking and *speed*-babbling --

Clutching Tim's hips and moving --

So *fast* --

Tim smiles and laughs just a *bit* like Jason...

Clark's speed-babble gains the fervency of *prayer* --

And Tim flexes his thighs *rhythmically*. "You're a pretty good rapist, Clark..."

Clark cries out --

"You... mm. You may, in fact, be my *favorite* rapist."

Clark shudders hard enough to move *both* of them --

"You do realize you'll never hear the end of this, right...?"

"*Please*!"

"*Come*."

"Tim -- oh -- *oh*!"

And now every thrust moves Tim closer to the edge of the bed --

Makes Tim clench and *shout* --

"*Do* it!"

Clark *wails* -- and sprays Tim's thighs --

And the back of Tim's *throat*, because -- "Mmm..." And Tim sucks in pulses --

And Clark grips his *head* --

And Tim settles in to enjoy being... filled.

Though first he puts the bitchiest smile in his repertoire in his eyes for Clark to enjoy once he returns to the land of --

"Oh -- *Tim*."

"Mm-hmm..."

Clark shudders and pets him -- "That's very goading."

Tim blinks. Once.

"That's -- mm. You really do... an excellent job of ah... asking for it?" And Clark pets him more.

Tim pulls off and *starts* to open his mouth --

And Clark ejaculates on his cheek. "Oh... how on earth did *that* happen?"

Tim narrows his eyes.

Clark hums and licks him clean at speed --

And then -- the bed is freshly made. And Tim is on his back with Clark's arm beneath his head and much of Clark's body covering him.

And he only feels a *little* stoned -- hm.

"Yes, Tim?"

Tim wriggles experimentally -- no, there's no escaping this cuddle. Tim settles back with his head on Clark's biceps. "How *much* did you drug me?"

"Only a little, as these things go. You really *shouldn't* patrol tonight, but if there's an emergency, you'll be able to do so anyway."

"Noted. Why *today*?"

Clark kisses Tim's temple. "I decided to wait until two weeks after you last mentioned your fantasies about me to someone *else*..."

Tim hums somewhat obnoxiously --

Clark pinches Tim's *nipples* -- which are still very, very sensitive.

Tim's penis twitches.

Clark hums and pets it --

"Clark --"

"Oh, did you think I was done with you, whorish one?"

Tim heats -- dramatically --

And Clark kisses his cheek. "We'll give the lubricant a little time to effect what repairs it can." And he sighs. "If it weren't so addictive to so many people of Latino and Native American descent... well. The AI is continuing to work on it."

Tim hums. "I have the utmost faith in its abilities. And its abilities to create willing slaves for you."

<<Would you submit yourself to my care, fine one...?>>

Tim shows his teeth. <<This one believes *you* must be inebriated... you-who-are-most-high.>>

Clark laughs softly. "Perhaps, perhaps..." He kisses Tim's cheek again. "Certainly, I'm entirely happy with myself at the moment."

"You should be," and Tim breathes deep and stretches a little --

And feels himself leak.

A lot.

Well, it won't be the first time he's done battle with Alfred over whether or not he can do his own laundry. For now...

"How soon?"

Clark smiles brightly. "Days, only. The scientists at Hephaestus feel quite sure that they've shaved weeks off Kaz-El's development time."

Kaz... or Lucien Luthor. The question of what *Tim* will call the boy is, truly, no question, at all: Whichever name he prefers, whenever he prefers it.

At the moment, he appears to be a boy in his mid-teens, slimmer than Kon at that age, but not by very much. His skin is much paler than Kon's had been, though, and there's a spray of pale freckles over his nose.

His hair is red, and flows down to his knees --

And, periodically, the people who spend the most time in the crèche facility find themselves having dreams of amniotic warmth. *That*... is going to be very, very entertaining whenever Kaz gets control of it.

Tim smiles --

"Share your thoughts?"

"Kaz, still. He's a beautiful boy."

Clark sighs. "Of course *you* don't think he looks too much like Luthor."

Tim gives Clark a *look*. "He has your nose. And your hands. And your eyebrows --"

"And Luthor's everything *else*. Well, except for his ears. Those are my mother Lara's," Clark says, and strokes Tim's abdomen. "I promise not to judge him for it."

"You should promise rather more than that, Clark."

Clark smiles ruefully. "Give me time to come to know him? I do realize that he won't be exactly like either of us, and I promise not to make the same mistakes I made with Kon-El."

And -- Tim will be watching. Tim nods once.

"He has... he has a *gentle* smile."

"Oh, yes?"

"It may simply be a factor of how deeply unconscious he remains, but... well. I'm hopeful."

Tim smiles and twines his fingers with Clark's own. "Good."

"Would you tell me..."

"Probably."

Clark hums and kisses Tim's cheek *several* times. "Bruce has been working with --"

"Dent."

"Ah... yes. How do you feel about that?"

Tim closes his eyes and smiles. "Like it's not -- quite -- my place to comment on the matter."

"Tim --"

"*But*, to comment just the same... the part of me which wants to do something vicious to Bruce for making it so it will be harder to take Dent down if and when it becomes necessary is at war with the part of me which has been watching the footage of him and noticing that he isn't any closer to -- and may be farther away *from* -- losing his mind again. Neither side is dominating the battles at any given time." And the fact that he's of two minds about the matter is... a terrible, horrible fact. 

Clark nods and pets Tim more firmly. "I continue to monitor him, as well."

And Steph's response to learning that Clark hadn't told them Dent knew the secret... well. Clark *will* be sharing with the rest of the class should anything untoward -- yet ultimately predictable -- occur.

Tim stretches just a bit languidly, kicking his legs up one at a time and breathing deeply, evenly --

And Clark is staring at Tim's breasts.

Tim smiles. "Yes, Clark...?"

"Your scars are wonderful."

"Not disturbing...?"

Clark licks the three-inch knife slash Shrike had left on his right pectoral. It gleams a bit more now that the flesh is stretched --

And now that there's Kryptonian saliva all over it. Tim pushes a hand into Clark's hair --

And Clark sighs and kisses the scar. "Your scars suit you as well as your breasts do, fine one. They are *you*."

"Hn. Batwhore."

Clark looks at him from under his lashes. Pointedly.

Tim raises an eyebrow. Loftily.

Clark blinks -- then chuckles extensively before humming. "I'll happily take the epithet, fine one --"

"And I will happily take all of yours --"

"*But*," and Clark *fixes* him with a look.

"Yes, Clark...?"

"You must not let yourself be defined by anything save your own emotions and desires, Tim. You must... you must live as happy and as satisfying a life as you *can*."

Anything you *say*, Lex -- no. Tim shifts enough that he can cup both of his breasts and *look* at Clark --

"Yes, I know, but --"

"I'm working on it, Clark. *Every* day," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "I promise."

Clark searches him --

*Studies* him --

"Tim..."

"I..." Tim laughs softly and turns, pushing Clark onto his back and straddling him again. "I'm always going to have at least a *few* issues, Clark. I promise not to let them hold me back overmuch," and Tim smiles and scratches Clark's pecs. "And I promise to always, *always* let my loved ones help."

"Oh --" And Tim's hands just *are* in Clark's and getting kissed. "I'm very happy to hear that."

"I -- *mmph*!" There's a tentacle in his *mouth* again --

"Fine one. *Suck*."

Well, then. *That*... seems like an excellent idea.

end.
 

.The sword among his pinions.

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