Disclaimers: Not mine.

Spoilers: None, really.

Summary: There's a split in Dick's head, these days.

Ratings Note: Sexual content.

Author's Note: Sequel to But hold me fast, and fear me not.
Won't make sense without it.

Acknowledgments: To Jack, Betty, and LC for audiencing
and helpful suggestions.

*

Tim hasn't really said... anything since his announcement
about the Birds -- and Dick really wants to *know* when
Babs had made that offer, and also maybe...

Not yell at her or anything -- it's so far from his place to be
*insane* -- but still. That has to be... he doesn't know. The
Birds aren't really part of them, even though Babs --
*Oracle* -- really is, and that actually scares him to death,
even though he *does* think it would be a good idea for
Tim not to have to report to Bruce for anything for at least...

At least a while.

Either way, Tim's quiet and right *here*, comfortable and --

And he isn't sure. It makes him *wonder*. It's not like Tim
hasn't visited before, and it's not like it was ever anything
but wonderful -- after the obligatory 'let's nearly maim each
other until we realize who decided to make a surprise visit'
thing, anyway -- it's just that it's never been quite like this.

And it's not the fact that the first thing Tim had done after
dropping off his overnight bag and microwaving the
popcorn is pull off his t-shirt to reveal a training bra --
though that's definitely *something*, and something which
he isn't sure whether he's supposed to actually ask about
or *not*, it's...

Dick had patted the couch next to him, and Tim had actually
*taken* the you-can't-really-call-it-a-hint and sat *next* to
him. Close enough for...

Well, for this.

He's had his arm around Tim for hours. He's been stroking
Tim's *chest* for hours, through two and a half different
movies.

He's been playing with the bra for longer than he's even
remotely sure about, and it's... God, it's good. It's Tim,
curled up against him just like he's as *okay* with the fact
that they'd had sex as Dick is, like it isn't something Dick's
going to have to fight for, or have to fight just to keep
things good between them.

He's right there, and he's warm -- under the bra -- and the
lace has had enough time to go from strange to scratchy to
ticklish to *addictive* against his fingertips, and Dick thinks
he could do this for about sixteen more hours, at least.

And then they'll go on patrol, come back, shower, and get
right back on the couch. He grins to himself and tugs on
the bra, letting it snap back against Tim's skin six or seven
times before he realizes that's probably annoying as hell,
even if Tim *is* just dozing a little against his side.

It's... it's been too long since he's had anything like this, full
stop.

And it almost hurts when Tim *does* start to shift a little
uncomfortably, even though he could've just pushed off or
something.

Dick shakes his head at himself. "Are you okay?"

"I -- just. My neck."

Of course his neck. Jesus, but... "Does this mean I have an
excuse to give you a rubdown?"

Tim laughs. "I just need to lie down, I think --"

"We can do that, too."

"Dick --"

Dick winces a little. Rebound. He didn't even mean -- "Hey,
I just... I want to be in bed with you. That's -- you know
we don't have to do anything else." He can't believe he
didn't think of the bed *before*.

Tim smiles a little ruefully. "That's not -- I just don't want
you to think you have to follow me everywhere."

"Why *not*?" And Dick knows that sounds too honest,
but...

But it's Tim, who gets him, and smiles at him a little more
before standing up. "Okay. Shortest game of catch-me-if-
you-can --"

Probably he wasn't supposed to pull Tim back down and
into his lap.

"-- ever. Okay, really shortest. Dick --"

"Come to bed with me." Stupid, obvious, he already said --
they both already said --

"Okay," Tim says, and then just waits for him.

It's a victory, of a kind, not to just kiss Tim, even though
it's been days, even though he really *hasn't* ever kissed
him -- as opposed to the woman he was a few days ago.

And Dick knows that it's kind of fucked-up that he's thinking
about it that way, but then again...

Then again, his fingertips are still tingling a little from the
lace on his little brother's *bra*. 'Normal' would be pushing
it. Which is... just fine.

"Dick...?"

"Just thinking about your bra, kiddo. Do they really not
make those in anything but plain white?"

Tim makes a face. "Well, there were some with flowers..."

"Oh."

"And teddy bears."

"Gah --"

"With little hearts."

"Plain white is good for now, then."

Dick... gives up and strokes it again. The straps -- and he
remembers, years ago, Babs actually ranting about bra
straps which were too narrow, or scratchy, but it has to
make a difference that these aren't holding anything but
his little brother's rock-hard pecs -- and yeah, the lace
again.

"You like the lace."

"It feels good on my fingers. I think I'd find it kind of
scratchy on my chest, though...?"

"It's..." The breath Tim takes is kind of a shaky one, and
Dick owns his reflexes --

There's nothing wrong with tightening the grip he has on
Tim's hip with his other hand. "Okay?"

"Yeah. It's just... just kind of a reminder. Alfred didn't
*just* get me practical clothes, you know?"

Dick frowns. "You once had an argument with me about
how it didn't matter that briefs were boring, because they
worked better with your jock."

Tim shakes his head. "That's work. This is just..."

"A reminder. Yeah, okay." And it's... he's not sure whether
Tim wants him to be thinking about it or not. He'd never
gotten to *see* Tim's breasts when he had them, but
they'd be... well, the bra would be too small. He had to
have bought this one *really* recently, because the lace
and elastic would be *digging* into the... "How soft were
your breasts?"

Tim blinks at him. "Um...?"

Dick laughs kind of helplessly. "Sorry, drifting. Maybe I do
need to lie down, too."

Tim pulls against the grip Dick has on his hip until Dick can
make himself let go, and then... yeah. He's got his arms
around Tim again before they're even down on the bed.
Dick hasn't changed his sheets in a few days -- somewhere,
Alfred is frowning -- and the bed smells too much like him,
and not enough...

"I don't suppose you could work up a good sweat for me
here, kiddo. I want my bed to smell like you."

"Dick..."

Shit. "I. I completely didn't mean that as innuendo. Jesus."

Tim's smile is almost scarily soft, like something from the
face of the thirteen year old kid Dick didn't get to know well
enough before he was gone.

"God, you're gorgeous."

Tim's blinks actually take some of the softness away,
replacing it with open curiosity, and it's --

It makes it easier that Dick's not wrapped around Tim as
much as he wants to be, because it means he can see
everything on Tim's face. "You..." Dick strokes Tim's face,
the sharpness of Tim's cheek which had gotten a little lost,
before. "Well."

"You're really attracted to me." It doesn't sound like a
question, which is a small favor, but it *does* sound like
surprise.

Which... "I thought you knew that. I don't... I mean, I know
I'm *touchy*, little brother, but I can keep my hands off
most people's asses, most of the time. I just... I never even
thought about it. You let me hit on you, I remembered to
back off, and I just thought... you were really mellow about
things." Dick laughs, and it's just --

It's as good as it always is when Tim laughs with him. "I'm
not really... used to this."

There's a split in his head these days, or maybe it's just
really obvious *now*, since Dick has a cross-dressing,
gender-confused little brother with occasional bouts of low
self-esteem:

There's the part of him which is screaming with the need
to point out that Bruce hadn't been able to trust himself
even to *help* do the right thing, because he was so
desperate not to *lose* Tim. And then there's the part
which can't --

It's not Bruce's damned *fault*, and he knows that, it's just
that it feels that way, and he can't say any of this to Tim,
because...

"Would you... Dick."

And there's something in Tim's voice which cuts through
just about everything, even if Dick isn't sure what it is. He
digs his thumb against Tim's cheek a little and squeezes
Tim's thigh with his own. "What is it?"

"I..." Tim bites his lip and reaches for the hand Dick has on
his face, dragging it back down to his chest, making Dick
pull a little against the bra.

"I... I am completely happy to keep feeling you up, little
brother."

It makes Tim blush -- no. That's a flush, and that's...

"You just. You just tell me when to ease off, okay?"

"I -- yes -- *Dick* --"

And he's flushing, too -- he's this close to sweating, just
that fast, because all he'd done is drag his thumb over
Tim's nipple through the fabric. "God. I want --"

"Dick, just -- I'll tell you. If I need you to stop."

"Can I -- can I take your bra off?"

And Tim *arches* toward him, and it's... it's every woman
he's ever been with when he gets the touch just right, and
it's none of the men, except that it's Tim, and Tim is
twisting enough out of Dick's grip to sit up, reaching behind
himself, muscles flexing in his shoulders, teeth digging into
his lip --

There are faint red lines where the material was digging
into Tim's obliques -- most eleven year old girls kind of
*lack* those -- and his nipples are hard and --

He's probably holding on too hard, but it's good to use his
tongue like this, his lips and teeth, his *tongue* --

"Ohn -- oh -- still -- it's still --"

He knows what Tim's trying to say -- it's still *good*, and
he thinks he wants to *hurt* Bruce for somehow not doing
this himself, not touching Tim even though he *needs* it,
even though he's so good and so responsive and so --

"Dick, Dick, please, your teeth --"

And the image is a lightning flash -- soft-or-maybe-firm
breasts and Bruce's big hard hands and Bruce's teeth, and
he would've *had* to bite, just to see, just --

"God oh God -- *Dick* --"

And he manages to stop himself from reaching between
Tim's legs with his right hand, but his left is having none
of it. Tim's *hard* under those jeans, and he likes to be
bitten, and it only takes a second to get Tim's pants open,
down a little, enough to know that he's wearing boxer
briefs, and Dick can't -- he --

Dick rips himself away with a groan, squeezing his own
balls until the pain lets him *breathe* again.

"Fuck -- God, Tim, I'm sorry, I'm --"

"What -- why did you --"

"I --" Dick squeezes his eyes shut and tries and fails to
ignore the way Tim is pulling on his shoulder.

"Dick, what's wrong?"

"I don't -- I don't have a *fraction* as much control as I
thought I did. God, I'm -- I want you."

"Then just --"

"Don't say it. Please, I just -- give me. Give me a minute,
okay?" And Dick opens his eyes just in time to watch Tim
swallow, but looking down just means seeing the slick and
angry-looking wash of red -- the suck-marks near and
around Tim's nipples. Bite marks.

"Dick, please, just -- it's okay. It's -- I've wanted you for a
really long time. And it's -- please."

And suddenly he's not squeezing himself so much as --
*squeezing* himself. His knuckles are brushing against the
base of his own damned *erection*, and Tim looks...

Tim is...

"There's so much I want to know, Tim --"

"I'll tell you. I --" The laugh is real, but still a little shaky.
"I'm kinda getting that it's okay. To tell --"

"No, no, I..." Dick shakes his head and lets himself go
before he can push himself any closer to the edge. "I want
to know the wrong *things*."

Tim raises an eyebrow at him. "'Wrong?'"

"Your..." The least wrong thing he can do, right now, is
stroke the fading welts on his obliques, the complete lack
of softness of his... pec.

"They were... kind of embarrassingly soft."

It's a *punch*, only that would be easier, because he
*deserves* it. "God, Tim, I don't want to -- I know you
miss --"

"I used to get... I would get really *wet*, Dick. When you...
against the wall --"

Dick's groan cuts Tim off, and it's -- it *should* be for the
best, but --

Tim covers Dick's hand and presses it against his chest.
And pulls Dick's other hand to his thigh --

"Your -- you're not even stubbly yet." This laugh comes out
*cracked*. "God, my inner seventeen year old is dying to
know what shaving cream you used."

Tim just kind of smirks. "Did you *want* to smell like Chanel
no. 22? Your inner teenager I mean."

"Uh... your shaving cream was perfumed?"

"Bruce -- Bruce kind of went overboard in the beauty
products."

It makes Dick's gut twist a little, because that --

"He wasn't trying to make me do anything but... pamper
myself, Dick. He... he liked that."

"Did you?"

"I liked..." The smile fades, a little.

"You liked that *he* liked it."

"Yeah, I..." The smirk turns rueful. "It was nice."

And at least he feels a little saner now, a little... it's not
*easy* just to pull Tim into a hug, as opposed to kissing
him -- everywhere -- but he can do it.

"It's okay, Dick. I know you understand."

"It's --"

"It kind of made me feel... more like Robin. In a -- I know
it's fucked up, but Robin is *supposed* to make things
better for --"

"For *Batman*. Not --" Dick cuts himself off. Had he really
just --

Tim squeezes him a little. "Dick..."

"I know. I -- fuck, hell, I *know*."

"I..." Tim kisses his shoulder, and it's just... it's practically
innocent, and it makes it harder *and* easier to imagine
what it must've been like with Bruce. What...

"Tim, were you... you were a virgin, weren't you?"

Tim stiffens. "Dick --"

"No, I... I just keep getting hit with everything, and I know
I'm slow, I know I'm just --"

"I was --"

"I'm so jealous and I'm -- "

He's kissing Tim again, or being kissed, and it stops being
possible to distinguish between the two so *fast*. It's --

It's exactly what kept him going back in that alley, even
though he didn't *want* to. Tim doesn't kiss any differently
now than he did before -- it's just that the sounds are
deeper, and there's nothing to keep Dick from pressing
against him from chest to hips, from pressing Tim *down*,
and --

And Bruce had been Tim's *first*, but his dick wants him to
know that he can be Tim's second, that he can have this --

"You already -- you already do --"

Dick groans and bites Tim's chin, his throat, his collarbone --
The last makes Tim shiver, arch toward him, offering --

If Dick keeps biting Tim's nipples, it'll get painful -- no
matter *what* Tim says -- and stopping means he can suck,
and *lick*.

Tim's hands are in his hair, and he's -- pushing. A little.
Dick pants against Tim's chest and forces himself to focus.
"Do you -- should I stop?"

"*No*. Just -- I --"

And Tim shivers when Dick looks up, but that's okay,
because Dick's pretty sure there's nothing steady at all
inside himself. "I want -- you know what I want."

Tim's mouth falls open, slightly, and he nods, and --

And Dick doesn't ask if he'd sucked Bruce, if he'd liked it,
if -- he doesn't ask, because this... is absolutely something
he can be the first for. Scarred, bony hips against his palms
and Dick digs in with his thumbs and --

Another arch, hungry and graceful, and --

And it's maybe killing him a little, every time he touches
Tim and thinks of Bruce, every time he shoves Bruce
*between* them, even though it would take more than a
curse to make that happen -- and more than everything he
and Tim both feel to make it *work*.

"Dick -- I need -- oh *God* --"

Tim needs *this*, his mouth and -- God, he's wanted this.
The first thing, the best thing, just to be entered and used
a little, opened up and maybe just a little owned, just --

The sounds Tim's making are loud, scarily high and
desperate, and it doesn't matter that Dick knows it's
because it's *good*, it still feels like he's teasing. Like -- he
*can't*. He has to take it faster -- *take* it faster, sucking
harder and working himself on his little brother's dick and
squeezing his hips, holding them and *lifting* --

Until Tim starts to fuck his mouth, ragged and grinding and
better than anything, almost anything, because Tim is
moaning continuously and sweating under his hands, his
mouth.

Dick wants to pull off and tell him he's perfect, wants to
stop for long enough to make Tim put the bra back on,
*wants*.

And it's not enough when Tim comes in his mouth.

It's --

It's not enough, that's all, even though Tim moans for Dick
with every kiss he leaves on the way back up Tim's body,
with the shiver when Dick pauses, again, at his nipples --
"I want you," and it's growled and obvious --

And it makes Tim jerk and shudder beneath him. "You
should. Let me turn over."

And he doesn't *mean* to bite Tim again, but it happens
anyway, and then Tim's hands are in his hair and his legs
are wrapped around Dick's own, and -- and he can stop
*biting*, stop himself again and lick, and kiss, and feel
himself flushing because he's got no more control than he
did before -- "I have to come. I --"

"Dick, let me --"

It's enough to make him move, twisting away from Tim's
grip and kissing him. Just -- just enough to quiet Tim again,
and he's flushing even harder and just -- "I want the wrong
*things*, Tim --"

"You *don't*. Dick, I promise, it's okay --"

"I can't --"

"*Dick*," Tim says, and *yanks* Dick's hair hard enough to
make his eyes water.

"Tim --"

"You have to understand -- the more fucked-up this is, the
more -- the more you *want*, the *better* it is for me."

And everything in Tim's eyes says '*listen*,' just as if -- just
as though --

"Dick, I can... do you want me to put the bra back on?
Or... one of my other --"

"Yes. Fuck --"

"-- other. Things. I, God, Dick --"

"Jesus, Tim, it's not -- Christ, I don't want to be --"

Tim pulls his hair again. "Why. Why do you want it?"

"You looked so -- I loved the way you felt in my arms. The
way you -- you were so *relaxed*, and I know it's just in
my head --"

"It isn't."

Dick bites his own tongue, but. "What?"

"It's -- it's kind of killing me that most of the clothes Alfred
bought for me -- that most of *my* clothes don't fit
anymore, or fit *wrong*, or just..." Tim blows out a breath
and stares up at the ceiling for a beat, another.

"Tim...?"

And then he bites his lip hard enough to make Dick wince.

"Jesus, Tim --"

"I know you -- I know what you want from me. You've done
a really -- you've been *great* about just going with all of
this, but Dick, I really don't think... I think about what it was
like before, and there's just... there's nothing *there*. I
was myself, and I was fine, but it's like I wasn't *real*.
There was something missing, and I didn't notice it,
because..." And Tim looks at him, rueful and a little scared.
"I didn't know what it was."

Dick... breathes. "And you... you know now?"

The laugh is actually really *open*, and Dick can't help
relaxing, a little, despite everything.

It's -- it's a *laugh*, dammit, and --

"I don't know anything, Dick. I just... I'm kind of going with
what feels okay, right now. If that's okay."

"I -- God, of course it's okay --"

"Dick, I know how uncomfortable this is, and you don't
know how *grateful* I am that just *this* much is --"

Dick covers Tim's mouth with his hand, thinking about
lipstick, thinking about -- God, he doesn't know, *either*,
but... "Whatever you want, okay? Because -- I swear to you
it's *better* when you feel at least half as good as you're
making *me* feel."

And that... it gets him an eyebrow raise. And a really
pointed look *down*, and --

("You should let me turn over.")

God, yes. And no. Yes. *No* --

And Dick leans in for another kiss, yanking his hand away
too slow to avoid smacking himself, but that's okay. It just
means that the kiss is even better, his mouth is more
sensitive, *Tim's* mouth is softer under his own. Biteable
and *suckable* and --

Dick pulls back and licks his lips. "Anything, Tim. Just --
just *you*, okay?"

Tim stares at him for so long Dick starts to wonder if he
wasn't convincing, or maybe *too* convincing, especially
when Tim pulls away --

But all he does is bend over the side of Dick's bed and come
back with the bra. Of course he knows where it landed. Of
course...

And Tim looks back over his shoulder, but not all the way.
And he doesn't *turn* around, either. Just... he slips the
straps over his shoulders, and reaches behind himself, and
Dick's so hard it *hurts*, because it so fucking easy to see.

Tim's needed a haircut for weeks, and he's so -- it's not
that he's curvy in any way, but he's always been so *lean*.
And Dick has known...

Tim isn't much *less* curvy than a lot of the female
vigilantes Dick has been around over the years. Especially
the younger ones. And he.

He can't keep himself from reaching out. "Can I?"

Tim tenses. "You... you want to put it on for me?"

"If..." Dick takes a breath. "If I can. If that's --"

"Yes."

"-- all right. God, Tim."

There are so many different layers of wrong in the way he
has to pull it tight -- Tim's *obliques* -- to get it fastened,
but once it is...

Dick slips his hand around, cupping nothing but muscle and
fabric and lace, and Tim --

It's less an exhale than a sigh. He sounds so *relieved*,
like Dick had done something perfect for him, something
*right* --

"I want you so badly, Tim --"

And Tim sighs again and lets himself fall back against Dick,
rubbing the back of his head against Dick's shoulder and
covering Dick's hands with his own. "Dick, just... do it.
Anything."

"I -- I don't want --"

He doesn't know *what* he doesn't want, because Tim
drags one of Dick's hands down to his dick again, and he's
hard, and it's --

He's reasonably sure Tim isn't *trying* to break him, and
it's not like he minds, but all of that is also kind of beside
the point. The *point* is that he can and should jerk his
little brother off, and pull him back into his lap, and hold
him and grind against his ass like a teenager having his
first really *good* dance... with a girl.

Dick bites Tim's shoulder to turn his groan into something
easier to deal with, because it needs to be screamed against
Tim's skin, anyway.

*He* needs to be against Tim's skin, he needs -- "Let me
take off my pants," he says, and Tim moans and pulls
*away*, and it takes way too long to remember that that's
actually necessary, but by the time he does he's already
shoving his own jeans and shorts out of the way, so it's
fine.

It's wonderful.

It's Tim in his bed, spreading his legs and arching his hips
up off the mattress, *his* mattress, his --

And it feels clumsy and greedy and almost like a *cheat* to
just cover Tim and *thrust* -- he *knows* what Tim
wants -- but maybe it's okay for him to need it like this,
with Tim's dick sliding slick and hard against his own, the
head painting sticky stripes on his abdomen and the shaft
driving hard and *male* against his own.

Just like it's absolutely okay that they both know it's better
for Tim with that bra on, that a part of him wants to be wet
and open and --

"*Dick*, oh God --"

He catches the rest of that in his mouth and thrusts faster,
harder, because he can at least do this just as hard as he
*needs* right now. He can brace himself on one hand and
yank one of Tim's legs up with the other --

He can make Tim *shout* into his mouth, just like this,
because Bruce had made him love this as a girl, and he
just --

"Tell me you like it, Tim --"

"Dick, *please*, don't stop --"

"Tell me this is what you *want* --"

And the sound Tim makes is almost a *wail*, but it's words,
too, and even though none of them are coherent, they're
exactly what Dick needs to hear.

And coming just means that he has the self-control to roll
off *just* enough to grab Tim's dick and jerk him off. And
suck one of his nipples through the bra.

Tim doesn't last long enough before he comes again, but
that's okay, too.

He's got a couple of days of Tim right here, after all, and
his bed is starting to smell just perfect. Dick licks his fingers
and waits for Tim to get his breathing back under control.
He opens his eyes first.

And moans when Dick shoves his fingers deep into his own
mouth.

"God, that's... Dick."

Dick grins around his fingers and shifts on his side until he
can throw a leg over Tim's own. It makes Tim moan a little
more -- *sigh* a little more -- and...

And Dick wonders what it had been like to share a bed with
Bruce, after making love. How possessive he might have
been with someone who never had a problem leaving, after
finally managing something that might just make him want
to stay...

Dick shakes it off internally, as much as he can, and lets
himself go with it. Tim doesn't mind this from him. Tim
*wants* this --

Whether or not Dick can be absolutely sure that he's the
one Tim wants it from, right now. They should've waited.
He should've -- no. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth
and wraps the arm around Tim's chest, instead, rubbing it
against the bra until Tim sighs again.

"Are you going to be able to sleep in this?"

"All night? No. But..." Tim yawns. "For a while..."

Dick nods and squeezes Tim.

For a while works.

For as long as possible... works even better.

end.