Title: Ready For The Night

Author: J.C.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson

Rating: NC-17

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I love the feel of him. Even after all of this time, it still radiates such fire through me, to feel his solid, warm weight nestled against me. Both as I finally allow sleep to carry me further into the night, and also as I awaken to sunlight announcing a new day. The feel of him - next to me, on me, in me, around me. I *know* what it's like to not have him in my life - like the darkness is alive and pinning me to the ground. I've lived through that twice. And that was two times too many.

We haven't traveled an easy road. He crossed my path because of tragic circumstances, and we've faced tragedies constantly since then, but somehow, here we are. Together. And together we're dynamic. Masked *and* unmasked. I had to *learn* to trust that, and to completely trust him.

As I feel his breath feathering across my chest, and the heat of his leg lying across mine, it's not so hard for me to be transported back through the years... to the very first time.... In quiet moments like these, when we're cloaked in darkness, I sometimes still think of him as that young boy to whom I first lost my heart. That slim, lithe, fledgling boy-to-man that looked at me with such a mixture of hurt, and pride, and love that first time he walked out of my life.

He would probably hate that I turn to that particular image of him. I'm sure he'd rather I flash back to the muscular, solid, full-grown man that returned to me. But, it's not that I wish he were still that boy. Despite the protective, or if you ask him, *over*protective, instincts I still feel, and the love I had for my *ward*, the intensity of what flows between me and the man that is now my partner is what sustains me.

It's just that, even now, that moment haunts me. If I could fly back in time, I would change things said, decisions made, and lessons learned, because then I wouldn't have had to ever see that emotion-laden expression that still slices me to the core. Not the first time, nor the next. And know that *I* was the source of his pain, and my own as well.

When we clashed, we clashed hard, and when we connected, we connected deeply. That's what comes from living the kind of life that we live. *Everything* is intense. Love and war. Life and dreams.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

When he turned 18, we went head to head for the first time. Rebellious teen, guardian with an iron hand, it was inevitable. Except he thought I would give in, and I thought he would back down, and neither one of us realized we had come to a fork in the road.

Or how intertwined the heat of anger and the heat of passion can be.

If asked, I would never have denied that I loved him, but I would certainly have denied that I would ever have him in my bed. He was my ward, I had *raised* him. Still it was easy, *too* easy to cross that line. From arguing, one minute, to love-making, the next.

We were exchanging heated words, anger echoing throughout the empty halls and unoccupied rooms, as he followed me through Wayne Manor. That should have been my first clue that things had changed. He hadn't followed my order to go to his room, or even retreated to the sanctuary of the Cave with his treasured motorcycle. Instead he followed me to *my* room, yelling the whole way.

My quiet, steely statement of "End of discussion" as I tried to close my bedroom door in his face, went straight over his head. He pushed past me, evidence of how well I had trained him, and the sight of him breathless, and hot and so *alive*, slammed into me so hard that I felt powerless against it, and automatically reached for him.

And he was on me with the enthusiasm only the young and lustful possess.

Thank God, Alfred had the night off.

It wasn't hard to analyze - I knew that his growing pains had a lot to do with how he felt about me. He was very easy to read. But I thought I had it under control. Right, like *my* feelings for *him*. It should have been so simple: No, he wouldn't take more risks as Robin, and yes, he would get over his crush on me. I thought he was just trying to test his manhood, but I didn't realize that he had already passed.

Boy-to-man. Somehow I had missed it.

Although I was the one who slid into him in one smooth, mighty thrust - he was the one who kissed me, sucked me, oiled me, and positioned me. He was the one who set the rhythm, rocking his slim hips faster and faster, until I could feel the muscles deep inside him leading me to climax.

He was the one who whispered that he loved me, breath feathering across my chest, leg lying over mine, as we fell asleep that night.

He was the one who walked out the door, head held high, the next day, when I said that what we had done hadn't changed things. That he was still under my roof, still under my wing.

Stupid, I know. Of course, it changed things. It changed *everything*.

Everything except the fact that I couldn't forget the boy *I* had been. The one who had seen his parents murdered, and had vowed to always be in control from that moment on, no matter what.

Two years past my thirtieth birthday, and I *still* hadn't learned where to draw the line.

Arrogance is not a great bedfellow, or sidekick either, for that matter. But that's what I was left with, that and the knowledge that my world is a dark place without Dick Grayson in it. As Batman, I thrive in the night, and even without Robin, I could function as I went from my cave to Gotham's dark side, but when I had to take off the cowl - Bruce Wayne was left to deal with the gloom of a shadowed mansion...alone.

On the flip side of that, there was another sad truth: At least, Bruce had had many lovers; the Bat had only had one.

You'd think that would teach me.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

Three years. It was three years before we saw each other again, even though I knew where he was almost the whole time. Those first few months, it was like he had disappeared into thin air, but then, he showed up for his freshman year at Gotham State University. I was glad of that, but I was also worried, because he didn't check into a dorm room, and yet he hadn't touched his trust fund, either. So, I followed him - slipping in and out of shadows, looking for answers. That was the easy part. Dealing with the outcome was much harder.

It turned out that he had made new friends, and was staying with them. Of course, there was more to it than that. I gathered my most informative data after dark. But then, that's what I do best.

The first time I saw his new persona, winging through the night, with his friends following his lead... I was astonished. And alarmed. And angry. Truth be told, I almost lost control. I could easily picture myself swooping down, and scooping him up, to take him back with me. But even I knew I wouldn't be able to keep him caged forever. He would run again, farther the next time. And hate me all the more.

So I walked away, and moved on with my life, keeping track of Nightwing and those Teen Titans from afar. It was hard to see him walk down a path that I had started him on, and to know that he was doing it without me. We were still fellow soldiers of the night, but we were each fighting our own battles, all the while silently at war with each other.

Once again, the Bat flew alone... at least for a time.

When Timmy Drake came into the picture, I felt revived. It was nice to be needed again, to make a difference in someone's life. I wish I could say that it was totally coincidental that he ended up as my new Robin, but I couldn't deny what I was trying to replace. Or rather reproduce. A time when Dick Grayson was just my ward, following my lead, and we were saving each other from loneliness without those added complications that had made it impossible for him to stay.

Barbara had already joined the fold as Batgirl, and with Timmy as the new Boy Wonder, Gotham's team of Caped Crusaders was reshaping itself. Training them, molding them, leading them, gave my life as Batman a renewed sense of purpose.

But, Bruce Wayne was still just a lonely billionaire. Even with Barbara and Tim, something was missing. The society pages were all abuzz the first time that I made a social appearance - tuxedo clad, with a tall, sophisticated beauty on my arm. I didn't realize it had been so long. I had always attended the obligatory functions, but I usually had Dick beside me. Thank goodness, there weren't any printed comments about *that* distinction.

From on my arm to in my bed wasn't as big a leap as I thought it would be. She was soft, and desirable, and willing, and sweet. But she couldn't erase the memory of that one time, and the eager young man who had shared it. Not her, nor any of the other occasional blondes, brunettes, and redheads who came after. I gave them pleasure, but no promises, and tried not to think of who might be pleasuring *him*.

I tried not to think of him at all, except, of course, for the fact that I kept tabs on his forays into the night, and sometimes I had these dark, sensual dreams. But I kept my distance, and stayed out of his world.

Then, almost three years to the day, he walked back into mine.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

I had been on edge for days, trying to convince myself that it had nothing to do with knowing that Dick had graduated that week. I was proud of him; it took a lot of discipline to finish a year early, especially considering the intensity of his extra-curricular activities. I wasn't invited to the ceremony, though Alfred was. I knew that they had been in contact, but we never spoke of it.

The only time Alfred had even mentioned the empty space beside me had been soon after Dick took off. And all I said was, "He's growing up, and needs to spread his wings." What more could I say? Alfred just nodded, with a sad, knowing expression on his face, and I wondered how much he *really* knew. But, I kept my mouth shut, because I was sure that I wouldn't want to admit to whatever he was thinking.

I couldn't even admit that the gnawing ache that had been plaguing me was due to the question running nonstop through my head: With his studies behind him, what was left to keep Dick near Gotham? And the answer that echoed painfully: *Nothing*.

But, I pushed those thoughts away and ended up pushing at everybody who came into contact with me. I had been working on hand to hand combat training with Tim and Barbara, and I couldn't stop myself from pushing them harder and harder. Barbara hadn't taken it for long, storming upstairs to complain to Alfred, but Timmy was determined to give as good as he got. His rebellious streak was a mile wide, and had developed much sooner than Dick's. I didn't even want to think about *him* getting older.

We were in the heat of mock battle, and I was throwing words as well as punches, lecturing as to what it takes to be sidekick to a Bat. Out of the blue, the sound of a familiar voice made me freeze.

"Yeah well, you can't be a Boy Wonder forever."

I turned, and the sight of him literally took my breath away. He had let his hair grow, he was wearing an earring, and the bulk he had acquired since he last stepped foot in Wayne Manor filled out his clothes beautifully. Chest pushing at his gray T-shirt, thighs bulging inside his jeans. His new look complete with a black leather vest and boots.

I stood there, facing him, bare-chested and barefoot, with only my workout pants, a jock and a layer of sweat to shield me, feeling naked as I remembered the last time we had squared off, with one of us breathless and hot. It took every ounce of my will to maintain a neutral expression on my face, and just keep breathing.

Just... keep... breathing.

I stepped off of the exercise mat, flinching slightly as my feet hit the cold floor, and grabbed my towel. He didn't seem surprised that I hadn't commented. His face was as much a mask as my own, except for a flash of something in his eyes... I dabbed at the sweat on my body, before placing the towel around my neck, then I sent Timmy to clean up and start his homework. I was just about to say something, hello, nice to see you, some semblance of polite social chitchat, when he spoke again.

"Bruce, we need to talk."

His words were delivered gently, but they hit me hard. I turned away, heading towards the exit so that I could get dressed, but also to hide my reaction from him. My heart was thumping so strongly in my chest that I was sure he would be able to see it from across the room.

"Fine, let me grab a shower, and I'll meet you in the library."

I went up, and he followed behind me, silently walking in my footsteps. Alfred and Barbara greeted us at the top of the passageway. Or rather they greeted Dick. No one said anything to me as I made my way past to go to my suite. That was fine by me. I didn't know what to say to them, and I certainly didn't know what to say to *him*.

But I did know that I was glad for the excuse of the shower to give me extra time and space to be better prepared.

I should have known that was asking too much.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

When I got out of the shower... he was there. I walked into the bedroom, still damp and warm, wearing only a towel, and he was sitting on the edge of my bed. I would have given anything, at that moment, to have been wearing the protective armor of the Bat suit. That and the chance to take another shower. A cold one.

*He* didn't seem unnerved by the situation - his face was still as expressionless as before. An indication of how things had changed. He was no longer so easy to read. I ran a towel roughly through my hair, and bit back the urge to snap at him about invading my space.

"I'll be done here in a minute, and meet you *downstairs*." Firm and deceptively calm.

He tensed slightly, but didn't break his eye contact. "I thought it would be best if we had a little more privacy."

My response was interrupted by a knock on the door. When I said come in, Alfred stepped through, stopping just inside. His voice held no hint of surprise or concern at the picture we presented, he just looked calmly in my direction as he spoke.

"Excuse me, Master Bruce. I was wondering if Master Dick would be staying for supper."

It was pathetic, really - two grown men thrown by an innocent question such as that. But I took comfort in that it was the first time that day that I had seen some touch of emotion on Dick's face. We looked at each other - questioning glances bouncing back and forth between us. I had no idea what the outcome of our conversation would be, and it seemed neither did he. All I knew right then was that I desperately wanted to put on my clothes. The clothes that were lying on the bed - next to where he was sitting. Too close for comfort.

Finally, Alfred took some sort of pity on us. "Dinner will be served at the usual time." He turned to look at Dick, "There is more than enough," and back at me, "or I can bring up a tray. Whichever you prefer." He didn't wait for an answer, instead he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Once again, I was left alone with a young man who still stirred me in so many ways.

He was sitting with his head down, leaning his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together, like his boots were the most interesting thing in the world, and I decided to take advantage of that momentary lapse to grab my clothes and retreat to the privacy of my bathroom. But as soon as I was next to him - he looked up. Suddenly, I could see glimpses of that boy I used to know watching me from the face of a man that I didn't know at all. He was both so familiar and so foreign.

When he spoke, his words were soft, but they had a sharp, painful edge. "I'm tired of being angry. I don't know if I can forgive, I don't even know if I'm sure exactly what happened between us - but I'm so damned *tired* of being angry."

And that was it for me. Any restraint I had left instantly shattered, and I took him into my arms, murmuring quietly over and over how sorry I was.

The feel of him was glorious. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that we needed to *talk*, but the *feel* of him... I wanted to revel in that and somehow ease the sad weariness from his face.

I ignored the agonizing friction of my erection against the velvety thickness of the towel around my waist, concentrating instead on the arms now around me, the head laying heavily against my belly, and the silky softness of his hair beneath my hands - grasping at that chance to reconnect. Clinging to the hope that later when the talking was done, and he had indeed been able to put the anger aside, he would find that there was *something* good left. Something that would keep him from walking away from me again.

He was shaking, and I thought he was crying, but his face was dry as I touched it and tilted it up towards me. No tears, but when he spoke his voice was shaky, as well.

"Bruce..."

It sounded like he was saying 'yes' and 'no' at the same time, and that was enough to make me stop everything, despite the fact that my hard-on was bumping him in the chin. There was *no way* that I would do anything he wasn't 100% sure about. But then, he pulled my towel loose, rubbing his hands lightly over my rear end...

...and that had *me* shaking - tiny tremors that vibrated in my shoulders, my fingertips, the backs of my knees, and most noticeably, the hardness straining between my legs. I went to my knees to keep from falling on him, knowing where that would lead. I didn't want a frantic coupling, not after so much time had passed between us. I had sweet memories of our first time, but for our next time, if that was indeed where we were headed, I wanted things to be different.

I'm sure we could have been spent and sweaty in less than five minutes, but it seemed I had been given a second chance at something, and I had an idea of where I should start.

His hands were on my shoulders, and mine were on his thighs, and that mutual contact seemed to calm us somewhat, serving to remind me of how deeply we were still connected. He was leaning forward, seeking, I knew, a kiss, and at that moment I was absolutely *sure* of where I should start.

"I love you."

I was glad that the strength of it showed through clearly in my voice. They were words that I should have said three years before. Before we kissed for the first time. Before we made love for the first time. Before he walked out of my life for the first time.

Equally strong and clear, he answered, "I know."

"No, I mean I *love* you."

"I *know*, Bruce. I never doubted *that*."

Then, he finally demanded a kiss. I grabbed his hands so that he wouldn't touch me, having just enough control to do that, but I tasted him eagerly, getting my fill. Sweet, familiar heat. I wanted to cry, it felt so right - like we had been kissing every day of the previous three years.

But those years were lost to us, and though I was naked and hot for the want of him, I wanted something more. I wanted to know that for us there would be years ahead, not just another night of passion.

"We're supposed to be talking." I pulled away and used my "Bat" voice, hard, gravelly, no-nonsense, and the infamous gaze that went along with it. I guess it doesn't have the same effect when you're kneeling in the nude - because he just laughed.

It had been too long since I had last heard that sound. I felt myself caving in. "I'm serious. You came here -"

"To settle things, Bruce. And it seems that part of that is... this. We'll talk later."

My well-intentioned but half-hearted protests were swallowed up, absorbed into his mouth as we kissed again.

In the midst of it, I let his hands free, grabbing onto the front of his vest, bringing him to me, tugging him forward on the bed until I could feel his heat branding me through the denim as he rubbed against me. I sucked in a breath, taking his tongue with it, and spilled my seed at his feet.

I was beyond caring about that loss of control. The release freed my mind from concentrating on it, and moved me into action. Breaking the kiss, gasping for breath, I stood. My legs were shaky, but my hands were determined.

I pulled him up to stand in front of me. His eyes roamed over my whole body, and my cock twitched. He reached for me, but I stepped back, grabbing his hand and turning him so that he was facing away from me. I removed his vest and lifted his T-shirt over his head, bringing it behind him to capture his arms.

When there's no Bat-utility belt handy, it's important to know how to improvise.

I didn't tie it or knot it; I just left it to hold him in place. I didn't want to have to fight his attentions, because I had things that I wanted to tend to, and wanted the freedom to do so unhampered.

When I turned him back around, he didn't say a word, just eyed me with an insatiable look, until my cock twitched again. I ignored that and reached for his pants. As I undid the button at his waist, I could feel a tingling in my fingers, and as I moved onto the buttons of his fly, the tingling increased as each one was opened.

I gave in to the sensation and plunged my hands inside his jeans, one in front, and one behind. Cupping his flesh, feeling him grow hard and erect as I buried my fingers in the moist heat between his legs, filling one palm with his tightening sacs. My other palm was covering one cheek of his ass, the muscles clenching at my touch. I squeezed it, as my fingers automatically started probing his cleft in search of more heat.

He leaned forward, and bit into my shoulder hard enough to make me groan. I pulled him in tighter, my hands working at what they could, and my erection rose up to meet his hard length. His bite turned to hard, hungry kisses, all along the line of my neck and shoulder. Our hard-ons were bumping, and I felt my control slipping once again.

Getting soft in my old age.

I smiled to myself at the inaccuracy of that thought, but still I pulled away, taking just a second to breathe and forge ahead. The second best thing I'd heard that day, right after the sound of his laughter, was the needy sound he made when I let him go. But, greedy passion was welling up inside me, and his pants were in the way.

Once more, I found myself on my knees in front of him, this time with hard flesh, and musky smells assaulting my senses. I lowered my eyes, and I was reminded of my earlier climax as I noticed the creamy, white smears across the black leather of his boots. My fingers went to the laces, and I turned my mind to the task at hand. When both boots were loosened, I reached up and pulled his jeans down to his ankles, bringing with them the black cotton he wore underneath. I pressed against his thighs, pushing back, and when he gripped my shoulder for support, I realized he had worked his arms loose.

Sitting on the bed in front of me, legs spread, balls resting against the comforter as his cock swung in the air, he presented a picture of lusty manhood. And I wanted him badly. And even more, I was reminded of how much I had missed him. How much I had missed out on over the years.

Thirty-five is not old. But as I sat transfixed by the sight of him, I wished that I were twenty-one again. So that I could match him, step by step, year by year for the rest of our lives.

"Bruce..."

His voice brought me back, and I cleared my throat and tugged off his boots, slipping off his socks, and pants.

"Bruce... we can stop... if this is not right for you. I... just..."

I finally had him naked; it wasn't within my power to stop. "No. It's not that. I was just thinking about how much you've grown, how much I've missed."

"I shouldn't have taken off. I ran away like a stupid, little kid."

"You were young, but you weren't a child. The mistakes that were made were mine. I apologize... for everything." I smiled at him, "But I thought we were going to get into all of that later."

He smiled as well, but it was sad, and small. "You seem unsure about something."

I stood, still hard and ready. His hard-on had drooped as he talked, but I was pleased to see it reassert itself as he watched me. "Not unsure, just overwhelmed. I've *missed* you."

One nimble finger made a trail down my middle, swerving around my erection to tickle the heavy sacs between my legs, causing me to quiver.

"I know the feeling, man. Intimately."

I lowered myself onto him. Pressing my weight down on him, feeling the softness of the bed give under us. He hooked his arms and legs around me, and the skin where we touched was so hot, I wouldn't have been surprised to find we had melted together.

I leaned in to taste him, licking along his ear, searching for the tang of metal, nibbling on his lobe. Reveling in the old and newness of it. Then, his neck, and his lips. Making him moan, getting high on the sound. Moving lower, my tongue seeking more of him. Following the muscular sweep of his chest, settling on the hardened tip of his nipples. Left, then right. And lower. The hollows as his body narrowed towards his groin. The dip of his navel. Lower. Face to face with proud, throbbing flesh. I licked it once from root to tip, and he moaned louder, calling my name. Which made me stop.

His eyes flew open, and I covered his mouth with my hand. "Shhhh..." I was sure that Alfred would be keeping an eye out, but I knew how wily Timmy could be. I didn't want him overhearing things that I didn't want to explain. I held up a pillow, raising my eyebrow in question, but he shook his head.

"I'm fine... fine. I'll be quieter."

I nodded, but I gripped the clean underwear that I had left on the bed, and wadded them up. I dove down onto his erection, taking it in until it tickled the back of my throat, covering his mouth with my hand again, silk boxers and all. Just in time. I could still feel the vibrations from his scream against my palm.

He grasped my wrist, drawing my hand away, and as I slurped up and down on him, I could hear his quiet curses, and his shallow breaths. I let the head of his dick pop out of my mouth, and lapped at the sacs hanging below. Spreading his thighs with my hands, loving the feel of the muscles rippling beneath the surface of his smooth skin, as I burrowed deeper between them, sending rivulets of saliva along the path I wanted to take.

His curses and breathing were getting louder, so I pulled away once again, and flipped him over. I tossed a pillow at his head, and this time he grabbed it willingly, burying his face into it, humping lightly against the smoothness of the black satin comforter.

I reached up to the headboard, and pressed the hidden panel, revealing what I needed. Among the things I kept there were lubrication and condoms.

Turning my attention back to him, I saw him watching me with mellow, sexy smile on his face. My whole body tensed, sending my cock bobbing stickily against my abdomen. I watched him spread his legs, raising his ass in the air, which caused low groans to slip from me unchecked. He gave a quiet, throaty laugh, spreading farther, raising higher, cheekily tossing the wadded ball of my boxers back at me. Flushed, aching, and hungry, I went for him, quickly flipping the top on the lube, and coating my fingers.

The first finger went in easily. I hissed at the feel of it, selfishly hoping that it was because he was eager for me, and not merely because he was used to such attention. Two fingers in, and the muscles of his passage grabbing at me took all of my focus. Three fingers, and a thorough massage of his prostate gland, had us both more than ready.

One smooth, mighty thrust, reminiscent of the first time, and just as satisfying. We moved in a slow, hot rhythm, and my hands were gripping his hips, pacing us. Slow... hot... until we were so feverish, I couldn't keep hold of his slippery, sweaty skin. Bending over his back, bracing myself on the bed, I took him fast... hard... deep... Until we both reached the boiling point...erupting with choked back cries. His face still buried in a pillow, mine on the slick skin of his neck.

My arms gave out and I fell over, taking him with me, so that we were lying on our sides, away from the wet spot he had made on the satin, easing out gently as I held him. We lay quietly for a minute, until the sweat cooling on our bodies caused us both to shiver. I got him to his feet and we showered, cleaning each other without speaking, except with our eyes.

After I changed the bed, we got in, settling into the position I remembered so well. Him nestled next to me, head against my chest, breath tickling me as he whispered he loved me, leg lying heavily over my thigh. Like he belonged there.

Like he still does, even now.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

He shifts his weight, and the movement brings me back to the present. I feel a shiver run through him, and I tighten my hold. Snoring softly, he turns over, and it doesn't take long for me to miss the feel of him and follow to spoon up behind him. We won't last for long in this position.

Sometimes I think that there's a dotted outline imprinted on my body: a Dick-shaped outline. An outline that follows the curve where he lays his head on my chest, and goes down to extend across my stomach where he throws his arm, lower still to the crease at my hip where his cock rests, down to my thigh where he bends his leg at the knee to cover it.

We start in that position, and we always end up that way. No matter how much tossing and turning we do throughout the night. He finds his place, and holds me in mine. Drawing comfort and giving it. Anchoring each other.

Thinking back once more to the twenty-one year old man that slipped back into my life, I realize something I wouldn't have acknowledged then. His leaving was probably a good thing all in all. Maybe it could have been under better circumstances, but it allowed him to mature, and establish a separate identity. If he had stayed, he would never have been sure of the man he was. Not in my eyes or his own. The distance gave us perspective, to see who we were, what we had. It would have been hard for me to let him live his life unchallenged. He would have forever felt like he was under my wing.

As it was, he was determined to make sure that I understood that he was his own man.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

For three days I didn't let him leave the bed, except to use the bathroom - a few showers, some calls of nature - but other than that, his world consisted of my big, wide bed. I went down for food, raiding the kitchen late at night, but that was the only time I wasn't there with him.

Good thing the Police Commissioner didn't flip the switch to the bat signal. My response time would have been a little slow.

Three days. And we talked... and talked... and talked some more. We dipped into the headboard compartment quite a few times as well, but mostly we talked.

It seemed we had a lot to say. He told me about the Titans and his work as Nightwing, admitting that he had seen me once or twice shadowing him back in those early days. At least he didn't seem to resent it. He was no longer with the Titans, and I got the impression that it was a little more personal than outgrowing the group, though at 21 he was certainly no teen. He didn't go into detail about it, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to know who she, or *he* was that had made the split so painful.

One personal tidbit he did divulge was that he and Barbara had dated his freshman year. I had *no* idea how to reconcile that - them and us - Batman and Batgirl - too many dynamics, but he seemed to think it was no big deal. He simply told me that she had always known that there was someone else for him. Somehow, that didn't make it sit any easier.

I was at a loss as to what to fill him in on. I'm not a man that finds it difficult to talk. I know and value the art of communication. I just choose my words carefully and use them sparingly. Of course, it's been proven that I don't always choose well. And my well rehearsed speeches were three years outdated. But, I started there. With an apology, and an explanation - no excuses. And I answered all of his questions. Whatever he wanted to know, I was honest with him.

We had made a promise before we started that we would conduct our conversation without anger. Free to discuss whatever we felt without hostility. After all, he had made the big step forward for the chance to not have that between us.

That was fine, I didn't think it would be a problem. So, we spent three days talking, smoothly reconnecting, and I was totally unprepared for him saying that he wasn't going to stay.

I spent another half a day carefully choosing *more* words. Fighting to stay calm, reasonably trying to explain why he should stay, *had* to stay.

As he got ready to go, I was still at it. Verbalizing my points as I watched him clean his boots, wiping away the evidence of what we had shared. Rattling off rationalizations as he put on the clothes he hadn't worn for three and a half days. As he dressed, I could see the change in his demeanor. I almost expected him to say "End of discussion" to me, in a familiar, gravelly voice. It was amazing how very much like me he was, and yet still so very different.

He was at the doorway when I finally fell silent, stubbornly refusing to watch him go. The sun was shining brightly, but it felt like the darkness was closing in on me, and I was afraid. Afraid that he would fade into the night and disappear, with only the glint of a gold earring and the ghostly gray of his T-shirt to even suggest that he had come back to me at all.

I understand now, why it was important, and can clearly understand what he meant when he said, "I'm not leaving you, Bruce. I'm just not staying here." It felt the same then, but now I can see that he still needed to make his own way.

He was Batman's lover, but no longer his shadow.

From where I sat on the bed, I could hear the heavy rumble of a motorcycle. I tried to resist, but I found myself on the balcony looking down. He had gotten a bigger bike than the one he had ridden away on three years earlier, and he sat astride it... waiting.

I saw his lips form my name, and it looked like he was blowing me a kiss. I don't remember going down the trellis, shredding leaves from Alfred's prized climbing roses, but suddenly I was next to him, hands tucked in my pockets to keep from touching him... But he grabbed me, tugging on my arm, bringing my ear close to his lips.

"Trust me, Bruce. I love you, I'll be back."

And as hard as it was to watch him ride away, trusting him was easy, and my only choice.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

He said he would come back, and he was true to his word. In fact, he came back the next day, riding up at dinnertime. Timmy kept a wary eye on him, hiding his interest under the attitude I thought we had worked out of him. Dick assessed the situation and defused it with aplomb. Soon they were chatting with an air of brotherly camaraderie.

Before the end of the meal, the Batsignal summoned me, and I responded automatically, surprised when Dick didn't move. Timmy was already at the passageway, as I stood staring in the opposite direction. Dick approached me, and his eyes flashed darkly.

"You only train the best, Batman." He edged me in Tim's direction. "Trust in that... you wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice."

I switched into Bat mode, not answering, kicking instantly into action, Robin at my heels. But I did notice Dick entering the Cave as the Batmobile streaked to the outside.

And he was still there when we got back, manning the computer systems, sitting in Alfred's usual place. I sent Tim in search of Alfred so that he could get his usual post-adventure warm milk, and Dick came to me and used a different relaxation technique.

Not even removing my mask, he just spread my cape over the heated hood of the Batmobile, and bent me backward. Getting inside the Batsuit is not as easy as it looks, but of course, he was one of the few with the knowledge. I was incredibly aware of the heat of me, and the scent of me, and sent up a prayer of thanks that there hadn't been any blood shed that night. He claimed me with the moist tightness of his mouth and throat, pleasuring me until I was on the edge. I didn't fight it, just stepped off and took flight, spraying my chest, covering the symbol of the Bat with my semen, as he held my cock in the firm grip of his hands.

God, it was good to have him back.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

We slipped into a semi-routine. He would pop in, spend time... spend nights. Of course, sometimes our plans were thwarted, duty calling on both sides. It bothered me that when we missed 'dates', it wasn't because we were fighting crime side by side. A few times, Nightwing did help out Robin, and I tried hard not to get too optimistic about the possibility that presented for our future.

We spent almost three years that way, getting closer, strengthening our connection on most levels. Sharing all aspects of our lives except one. He stayed reluctant to be at Batman's side, although when the occasion presented itself, he often monitored the computers in the Batcave. Just one time did he appear; pitching in when Two-Face proved a formidable adversary. Friends and enemies caught in a twisted web, in the form of Harvey Dent turned Two-Face. And Nightwing's assistance came at an opportune time. I was confident that we had Gotham's dark side totally in check.

But, when you least expect it...

There's dark, and then there's *dark*.

There's evil, and then there's *evil*.

True evil descended on Gotham, casting a shadow so dark that midnight paled in comparison.

There are antagonists... and then there's Bane.

<< ^^ >> << ^^ >> << ^^ >>

The End... for now.