Over The Hood
by Darklady
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. DC does. If I owned
the characters, you'd have to go to special stores to buy your comics. (Ummm.
And that would be different HOW? )
Rated: NC-17
Pairing: Batman/Robin
Note: The Robin referred to here is Dick Grayson, not
Jason Todd or Tim Drake. Dick has left the Manor, and is now a student at
Archive: To the archives of WWOMB.
OVER THE HOOD
By Darklady
Poison Ivy. One of my personal nightmares. Not that any of the
I feel myself shudder at the thought. At least this time we had some warning
before we went in. Not much - but enough to let me get into full kevlar.
Not my favorite suit. I have always preferred the chill of the open air on my
legs. But I've also preferred to stay alive. Which we are. Barely.
Since I left for Hudson U, either I've gotten soft or the villains have gotten
hard. I'd ask Bruce, but he'd just say I needed to train more. Move back from
the dorm. Stay on track.
He might be right.
Ivy had some new nasties this time. Killer vines. Six inch thorns. Flowers with
teeth, and a pheromone -warping pollen that... I shudder again. Harder.
Batarmor is good, but I can still feel that pollen burning. On my face, where
my mask broke the seal of the gas mask. On my wrists, burning like manacles
where the flying spores were caught by the flare of my gloves. On one shoulder,
in a whip-slash line where my cape must have loosened my body armor when one of
the clasps tore free. All those places. And... I feel it deeper. I feel it in
the sweat that trickles down my spine and in the hardening pulse in my cock and
the tightness in my balls and in the deeper throbbing...
I force the thoughts from my mind.
Control. Focus and control. Ten minutes to the Batcave. There will be an
antidote. I will control.
Thank ghod I don't have to drive. I don't think I could.
I risk a glance at the Batman.
Nothing.
His face is set. His eyes locked on the road.
I don't know if his armor is that much better or if he's just better at
resisting, The later, I suspect.
Still, I know he's not unaffected.
Batman has been silent. Nothing odd there when we're with Gordon or his people.
Post-fight chatter has always been the side-kick's job. But afterwards? Once
we've sealed the car and are headed back to the Cave? That's debrief time. Time
for Bruce to tell me what I did right - or more often wrong. Time to recount
what worked and replan so the rest works better next time. But tonight?
I risk another look.
Tonight the Bat is silent.
Inside the car, the night is silent.
I am silent.
Until.
We hit a rock in the roadway. Not too large. Normally nothing. This near to the
cliffs you have to expect road debris, and even at this speed the Batmobile is
built to compensate automatically. Still, there is always some impact. And in
this case?
As the sudden jolt crosses my over-strained nerves I can not avoid a gasp.
Instantly smothered, but he hears it.
No word. No look. But ten seconds later the Batmobile is off the road and
tucked into a narrow crevice carved into the cliff face.
"Out."
One word. Enough.
I unclip my harness and swing out over the door.
High above there is moonlight, and even this close to the city a good showing
of stars against sapphire. Here? Pressed between two slabs of rough stone? The
cliff shadows drink the light.
"Come."
One gloved hand on my arm, pulling me forward deeper into the dark.
I obey.
Four steps and I know we are in front of the car.
No word this time. Just the pressure of that hand pushing me back. Command
understood. I roll, falling back on the hood of the car with my legs raised.
The stone-chilled air is a shock to my heated flesh as he unzips the crotch
closure on my armor. Only that.
The smooth enamel of the hood is cold against my ass. The hand that grips my
cock is colder still. A gauntlet.
It's black here. Too black to see. His jaw line is lost in shadow. So are the
blue eyes that can shift so swiftly from ice- gray to the heart-stopping sky
that long since claimed my soul. Only the silhouette is clear against the
spangled sky. The outline of the Bat. Raised above me.
I spread my knees wider, and feel the pressure of his armor on my own as he
presses towards me.
A brief coldness at the muscle ring. He must have something in his utility
belt. What I don't know. Nor does it matter. Not while that leather- thickened
finger is marking a path of flame inside me.
It has never felt like this before.
Is it the pollen? On me? On his gloves? Or is it the wild madness of this....
dare I even call it a mating?
A second pass of the gelled finger. Quick, but sufficient. And then his cock.
Only his cock.
No kiss. No touch. No word.
Nothing but flesh.
Nothing but that one flesh, hot and relentless, driving deep within me. Burning
me. Branding me. Claiming me.
I want to whisper. To beg. To call out to Bruce.
But... I can't.
Because?
I'm not being fucked by Bruce.
This isn't Bruce.
This madness of darkness and heat is nothing of Bruce.
I'm being fucked by the night itself. The dark night.
I moan as I cum - and he gives me his gloved hand to bite on.
It tastes of dust and sweat and blood and something more I can't name but
somehow know is the Bat.
It should be over, but it's not. He is still within me. Still hard. Still
strong. Unfaltering as the rhythm of the night sky itself.
I twist beneath him, still clamped into the tightness of those fingers.
Half-mindless. Seeking pleasure. Seeking relief.
Seeking mercy from the merciless force that is still driving spikes of pleasure
into my spine.
Four more strokes. Then stillness.
He cums in silence.
My thighs are cramping. I lower my legs slowly.
That eases the ache, but not complete. I can feel the tender spots on my
shoulders and neck. Spots where the bruising is too fresh to *be* a bruise.
They will be purple come morning. The calves of my legs will likewise ache. No
cramps yet, but those will come as the overstretched muscles reset enough to
rebel. And my back passage? Not torn, no. I'm uninjured... by Bat standards.
But I will be glad tomorrow *not* to be sitting in class.
My breathing is still rough. The only sound in the unshifting dark.
No word.
No movement.
No touch.
Pulling my cape aside, I roll over, grip the flared edges of the hood, and
whisper... "Again."
*FINIS*
İKKR 2002