Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/22179.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_-_Comicverse
  Relationship:
      Batman/Robin, Tim_Drake/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Tim_Drake, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Underage_Sex, Disguise
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-03-24 Words: 6273
****** A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy ******
by Tim_(boywonder)
I expect complete obedience, Robin. I mean that.
Batman's words from long ago play in Tim's mind over and over again. This isn't
really anything new or unusual, but they're louder tonight. He fusses over his
clothes and hair for nearly two hours and thinks back on the conversations that
led up to this point. The anger and the color rise in his cheeks as he thinks.

----
"Let me get this straight. You want me to be your date?"
"No, Robin," Batman says. There's a warning in his voice that tells Tim he's on
thin ice. "You're not going with me. You're going to meet me there."
"Oh, for crying out loud--"
"This isn't up for debate. You can get them to talk to you in a way that I
can't. Women share their secrets with one another. Not with rich men whose
pants they're all trying to get into." He pauses for a moment before adding,
pointedly, "And not to teenage boys, either, no matter how small and cute they
might be."
"So why don't I just throw a slumber party?" Robin replies, without humor.
He can feel Batman's eyes narrow from behind the lenses of the cowl. "I told
you this is not up for debate. Spend as much money as you like to get ready.
But I expect to see you there."
"You want me to act like them, or what? I mean, like, 'Oh it's reallyhim! Bruce
Wayne in the flesh! Meet me in the closet, we'll have a great time!' or
something!?"
Batman glares down at him. "I'm sure you can be much more subtle than that," he
says. "There are three women under suspicion for an illegal weapons ring, among
other things, as I told you. All the files are on this disk. Get rid of the
data after you study it. I need some real evidence, not just underground
whispers. And I prefer to leave Oracle's Eyes out of it."
Robin glares back at him before taking the disk and storming off.
 
One_week_later...
"Robin."
"What."
"I trust you're prepared for tomorrow."
"As prepared as I'm going to be," Robin says, through gritted teeth.
"I know you're capable of it." The words are what serve as reassurance coming
from Batman, but they just make Tim more pissed off.
You're not the one in a dress, he doesn't say.
"Is that it?" he does say.
"No. There's one more thing."
"...what might that be?"
"I don't want you to do anything out of character until I implicitly tell you
otherwise."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Take mental notes, or better yet - record everything you hear.
But it won't be up for discussion, and you cannot be Tim Drake until I tell
you, is that clear?"
Robin nods his head, but doesn't answer aloud. They don't speak for the rest of
the evening.

----
Tim tests the recording equipment. Everything seems to be fine. And it's
certainly unnoticeable, placed in the diamond pendant at his throat. Everything
he bought on Bruce's credit cards for the night amounted to an obscene amount -
closing in on $10,000 worth of diamonds, to say nothing of the clothes. He
briefly entertains the idea of keeping it all out of spite.
The limo he hired picks him up outside the hotel he isn't staying at and takes
him to the hotel that the party is at - the fanciest one in the city. He's been
here before, and he doesn't like it any more now than he did then.
But it doesn't show on his face. He's all perfect smiles and looks from beneath
curled eyelashes, accented with come-fuck-me red lipstick. He leaves the limo
driver a hundred dollar bill (courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, though the driver
doesn't know that), with the promise that there's more if he stays on call. Tim
figures he will, hundred dollar bills or not.
He gives the fake name to the man serving as a bouncer for the invite-only
party, and shyly fishes an ID out of the expensive red silk purse he's
carrying. It gets verified with no problem, as he knew it would, and he slips
into the ballroom. He feels a few men glance away from their wives, mistresses,
and dates, letting their eyes linger on him too long.
And why not? He makes a dazzling girl, and knows it. He worked hard to perfect
the look, and spent as much of Bruce's money as he could, telling himself that
it was only to fit the part and had nothing to do with spite.
At first, he tries to pinpoint where Bruce is. He has no luck, and decides to
let it go. He can't just look for Bruce all night, or he won't get any
information on the three target women, and will have just pretended to be a
spoiled rich girl all night for nothing, not to mention the wrath Batman will
unleash on him.
Hours go by. He makes contact with two of the women, speaks idly of the older
man that he married for money, and how he just won't die and leave all the
money behind. It's not unusual talk. The women support him. One of them alludes
to having her first husband murdered. Tim suppresses the urge to vomit, and
giggles behind one manicured hand.
He gets only minimal information from them, and wanders over to the drink table
to take a break from girltalk for a few minutes. As he's drinking some red
liquid that he guesses is non-alcoholic, he scans the room again, trying to
find either Bruce or that third woman. He sees no sign of Bruce, which is
actually unnerving to him, but he finally finds the third woman - right across
the table from him. She smiles in a way that might be seductive if he were a
man. As a girl, he has no idea what it might mean.
She comes around the table to him and introduces herself. The girl that Tim is
introduces herself as well. The conversation rambles on about nothing
interesting until the woman talks about....murder.
"So I hear you're looking to get rid of your husband, that right, darlin'?"
"Oh, well, I never said anything like that," Tim says suggestively, and giggles
again.
The woman leans on the table and empties her champagne glass. "How old are you,
honey?"
Tim looks around to make sure no one else will hear, then leans in and tells
the woman, "Nineteen. But my ID says otherwise."
The woman gives him a knowing smile and sets the glass down. She pulls Tim
closer and whispers, "Getting started young is the way to go, darlin'. Now
let's talk business."
They go into a lounge off the side and Tim gets tons of information on how to
kill one's husband. Nothing on weapons, but lots on other things, including
drugs and who has a hook-up to some high-class hitmen. It was more than he had
expected, in a sense, and the Robin part of him thrills at all of this.
Finally, the woman says they don't want to "be lookin' suspicious" and they
make their way back to the party. She slips Tim a white card, which he files
away in his purse without looking at it. Flawless.
Now, to find Bruce.
As it turns out, he doesn't have to. The group of women he's not really talking
to start making little noises that Tim recognizes as "we've just spotted a rich
one, girls" noises. He turns to see what they're looking at, and finally Bruce
is there.
He's surrounded by girls already. Tim smiles like any money-grubbing young
woman would and sidles over to the group. Of course he's not the only one, but
he knows Bruce will know him. He didn't wear contacts tonight on purpose.
To any other woman in the room, Tim is simply one of them - a rather short
young lady with auburn hair done up and accented with (expensive) diamond
strands in a long black velvet dress that has highlights of red in the light
from the chandeliers. The dress is slit on the right, all the way up to the
hip. He didn't bother with pantyhose, and shaving has never bothered him. The
shoes he's wearing took the full week to learn how to walk in - dark red,
strappy, come-fuck-me shoes to go with the lipstick. He's got a decent amount
of makeup on, but not too much. His eyes are strikingly blue under the smoky
eye shadow. All the diamond jewelry he's wearing just means he's certainly one
of them - some rich debutante from somewhere snazzy, somewhere that must be
worth mentioning.
All the same, he knows that Bruce will know.
Bruce doesn't fail to live up to his expectations. He's talking to some older
blonde lady, but he lets his eyes move away from her, and look at Tim. His eyes
wander over Tim's body, lingering on the fake cleavage, then running further
down, to Tim's annoyance. The blonde looks annoyed, too, for a different
reason. Bruce remembers to smile at her, and they continue talking. But Tim's
done his work. He lets the conversation happen, and giggles in all the right
places.
Finally Bruce pays attention to him. The blonde is definitely annoyed, but it's
apparently not unusual - the women glare jealous daggers at Tim, but don't
really say much else, other than heated whispers behind their hands that Tim
pretends he can't hear.
Bruce holds out a hand and Tim takes it.
"So nice to see a fresh face in the crowd," Bruce murmurs. Tim finds it utterly
ludicrous, but giggles anyway.
"So nice to be noticed as such, Mister Wayne," he purrs back.
Bruce kisses his hand, softer than he would have expected, and longer than is
appropriate. He just smiles back and bats his eyelashes.
He never figures out how it happens, but he and Bruce are standing closer to
the silly dance floor area of the room than he'd like.
"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't catch your name. How rude of me..." Bruce murmurs.
Tim pushes back the urge to hit him in the face. "Tabitha," he says, "Tabitha
Lorraine."
"Mmn. Lorraine....Lorraine....that name sounds familiar..."
"My father holds a decent portion of your stock, Mister Wayne," 'Tabitha
replies, "though recently he's been talking about LexCorp..."
Tim thinks he sees Batman in Bruce's eyes for a split second, and smiles in the
most flirtatious manner he can muster, hoping that the smirk in his mind isn't
on his face at all. "Of course he'd never really switch. We're Gothamites, and
Gothamites support Wayne Enterprises."
"You flatter me," Bruce says. There's no trace of Batman now, of course, just
the charm that Tim doesn't think he's really ever had the chance to see on
Bruce. Certainly, it's never been directed at him.
He feels Bruce's steely blue eyes running down his figure again and has to
fight internally to stand still, like a good girl. He thinks Bruce is taking
this slightly too far and intends to say something snarky about it later.
Finally, their eyes meet again. "You look absolutely stunning tonight,
Tabitha," Bruce says in a voice that Tim has never heard him use before. He
can't decide whether he likes it or hates it.
"Call me Tabby," he says, just to see if Bruce will. "You're not half bad
yourself."
"Tabby," Bruce says slowly, as if savoring the word. Again, Tim wants to hit
him. But Tabitha just smiles and cocks her head prettily to one side.
"You look even better in person than you do in all those magazines, Mister
Wayne," Tabitha purrs at him.
"Please!" he says, insistently, affecting a highly-theatrical pained
expression, "Call me Bruce. I always feel so old when I hear it said like that,
you know..."
She giggles at him and Tim can feel himself start to gag. "Bruce, then."
His eyes meet with hers for a minute, and Tim realizes what Tabby likes so much
about Bruce Wayne - that look is pure magic. For a minute, he's jealous of all
the women in this room who always see this look. He mentally smacks himself for
such a stupid thought, and looks at the ground to avoid doing something Tim-
like.
Bruce looks concerned. He reaches out and gently tilts Tabitha's chin back up.
"What's the matter?"
"Hm? Oh, it's nothing, really," she says, and plants the smile firmly back on
her face.
He smiles back, and nods, approvingly. "Good, good, glad to hear it!"
He sees a man with a tray and snaps at him. Tim raises a plucked eyebrow and
turns to look at the man. He feels the man's eyes slide over him, and gets a
feeling he doesn't like from it, like he's an object on display. He wonders
idly if Kon ever gives girls that feeling.
Bruce slides one arm around Tim's nearly-bare shoulders and pulls him - her -
closer, smiling at the waiter. "I'll take two of those glasses, my good man,"
he says.
Tim bites back a laugh at the phrase "my good man". But the waiter simply says,
"Very good sir," and hands Bruce the glasses, never taking his eyes off of
Tabitha.
Bruce lets Tabby go to take the glasses from the man. He doesn't bother to tip
him - and of course, neither does Tabitha - and the man walks off in somewhat
of a snit.
Bruce starts to offer her a glass, then pulls away, "Mmn, are you sure you're
old enough to drink this?" he teases.
"Are you sure I'm old enough for you to do something quite so intimate as offer
me a drink?" Tim replies in Tabitha's voice.
Bruce just laughs. "Touche," he says, and hands Tim the glass.
Tim manages to drink it in a way he's sure would count as ladylike and they
talk about nothing until he's finished with the champagne (which Tim discovers
he hates the taste of). Of course, Bruce never touches his, but it doesn't
really matter. He pantomimes drinking it, certainly, but Tim isn't an airheaded
girl, no matter what he looks like. Besides, he's well aware that Bruce almost
never drinks alcohol.
Finally, he finishes the drink and sets the glass down. There is a silence
between them, though it's not uncomfortable. Bruce holds out a hand to Tabitha,
which she takes without thinking about it.
"Would you care to dance?" he asks her.
Tim's heart stops. He reminds himself to kick Bruce somewhere really, really
damaging later for this.
Of course Tabitha can't say no to Bruce Wayne, not with all his charm and all
his money, and she giggles at him. "Oh, Bruce," she says, blushing, "I'd love
to."
His smile widens and he pulls her closer.
Tim is suddenly grateful for those silly dancing lessons at Brentwood a couple
years ago.
The music isn't fast - it never really seems to be at these rich people
gatherings - but that's not at all comforting to Tim. The heels are really
starting to hurt, as well, and that doesn't help any.
Bruce dances flawlessly, of course. Tim is sure he's going to fuck this all up,
right there on the dance floor, but Tabitha seems to be doing fine.
"It's been forever since I danced," she breathes, looking up at Bruce from
under her eyelashes, "not since I was in school..."
"Mmn, you're doing beautifully for someone who's out of practice," he murmurs,
pulling her even closer. Tim is sure the words are some sort of complex dig at
him, but he isn't sure what the reason for that might be.
Tabitha feels her body melt against him, and her eyes close. She rests her head
on his shoulder and sighs without meaning to.
Tim tells himself that Tabitha is the one enjoying Bruce's arms around her, and
that it has nothing to do with him.
The song changes, and they still dance.
As they dance, the conversation about absolutely nothing picks up again, but
Tim finds himself minding less. Maybe the champagne had more alcohol in it than
he thought.
Finally, Bruce leads him off the dance floor. "I wonder, Miss Tabby, if it's a
bit after your bedtime..."
FINALLY, Tim thinks.
"Oh, really, now, Brucie," he giggles, being as irritating as he can, "I'm a
big girl. I can take care of myself."
Bruce laughs, "Oh, yes, I'm sure you can...."
The smile disappears from his face. There's a look on it that Tim can't read at
all. Bruce's eyes stare into his for a minute. He feels a blush creep up in his
face and can't figure out why.
"But couldn't we all use some help...taking care of ourselves....sometimes?
Especially at night..."
Tim finally figures out what the blush is about.
"Of course," Bruce continues quickly, "you'll probably want to get home to your
husband..."
Tabitha laughs just a little and fiddles with her 24 carat gold wedding ring.
"Oh, well, you know," she says slowly, "he's actually out of town right now.
Business, you know." She lifts her eyes shyly, meeting his for a moment, "And,
to tell the truth, my bed is kind of...cold....lately..."
I don't believe this. He'll kill me later if I don't kill him first, Tim
thinks. But his heart beats faster under the fake breasts and he feels warm all
over. There really must have been all kinds of alcohol in that damn champagne.
Bruce smiles in a way that Tim knows isn't anything but sexy. "Well, you know,
Miss Tabby..." he says, taking her hand, "my bed can be rather...warm."
She giggles for the millionth time. "That sounds so inviting," she says. "I bet
it's nice and...big....too." Tim tries to tell himself that he's talking about
the bed.
Bruce's smile widens. "But of course."
Tim tries to tell himself that Bruce is talking about the bed.
Bruce leads Tabitha by the hand, out to the front of the hotel. Bruce says that
he has his own car, and so Tabitha makes a small show of locating her limousine
and tipping the driver far too much for waiting around all night. He grins at
her as if it was absolutely nothing and drives off after a few sentences of
polite conversation.
Tim recognizes Alfred right away and thinks he'll die. Alfred surely knows
about all of this...?
Bruce ushers Tabby towards the car. Alfred opens the door for her and raises an
eyebrow at Bruce. Tim isn't sure if it's because he knows or because of how
young Tabitha is.
"Alfred, this is Miss Tabitha Lorraine. Tabby, dear, this is my butler,
Alfred." Tim doesn't miss the sting intended by the word 'butler" but he
doesn't say anything. Of course.
Tabby holds out one hand to Alfred, who bows and kisses the air just above it.
As Bruce should have done and didn't, Tim thinks.
"Lovely to meet you, Miss Lorraine," Alfred says, always the perfect gentleman.
Tabitha giggles as she pulls her hand back.
Alfred opens the car door and lets her in. He gives Bruce a look that Tim is
sure Tabitha would never catch, and closes the door.
Bruce and Alfred walk around to the other side and Alfred lets Bruce in.
Bruce makes idle chatter with Tabitha on the way back. He lets his hand rest on
her leg, and Tim realizes that he must have done this on purpose - the slit in
the dress is on the side Bruce has his hand on - on Tabitha's bare leg.
Tabitha remains unfazed by it, and they continue to talk. She rests her hand on
top of Bruce's and runs her fingers over his.
The drive to the manor lasts a lifetime in Tim's mind, but it's not entirely
unpleasant.
Tabitha gushes about the size of the manor, as any gold-digger would do.
Bruce responds to this as expected. He says some things to Alfred that Tabitha,
in her wide-eyed awe at the size of the house, doesn't hear. Tim only catches a
few words, about "not wanting to be disturbed". He wonders what the hell Bruce
is up to. Alfred responds tersely, but leaves them to their business...whatever
that might be.
As soon as Alfred is (presumably) out of ear shot, Bruce pulls Tabitha close to
him again. Closer even than when they were dancing.
Tim thinks he must be too in character when he thrills at the sensation. That,
or drunk.
Bruce puts a hand on Tabitha's face and runs his thumb gently along her cheek.
"You really are such a lovely girl..." he says, nearly whispering.
"Oh, now, Bruce..." she says, but his finger on her too-red lips quiets her.
Their eyes meet.
Bruce moves his finger away and leans down to kiss her. She doesn't stop him.
Yeah. I have got to be totally drunk, Tim thinks as heat floods through him.
Tabitha opens her mouth to Bruce almost too soon (or so Tim thinks). Bruce
doesn't seem to have any objections, however - his tongue slides into her
mouth. She makes a noise that might be "oooh" and wraps her arms around his
waist.
Bruce pulls back from the kiss and leans closer, so he can talk into her ear.
"How does that bed sound now?" he purrs.
"Enchanting," she says, almost breathlessly.
"Glad to hear it," he says. He turns away, letting his hand slide along her
face, and leads her up the stairs to his bedroom.
Tim feels like he's dreaming, under Tabitha Lorraine's too-sexy clothes and
makeup. He wonders if Bruce is thinking straight and decides maybe he doesn't
care.
Tabby doesn't have time to marvel at the bedroom or the size of anything in it
- Bruce is kissing her again, deeper and more fervently than before. He pulls
off his suit jacket and drapes it over the door handle as the door closes
behind them.
Tabitha's untrained eyes never see the tiny wire running along the inside of
the jacket. But Tim prays it isn't attached to anything like a camera. Or,
better yet, that whatever it's attached to isn't on.
Bruce releases Tabby long enough to turn off all the lights in the room, save a
tiny one that is hardly more than a candle on the nightstand.
Bruce is kissing her again, and she can feel herself all but moaning into his
mouth.
He runs his hand down the velvet of her dress, sliding it under the slit (that
Tim knew was too high) and resting it on her thigh. He pulls her closer with
the other arm. Closer. She can feel how hard he is against her stomach and
gasps just a little.
Tim feels like maybe there was something narcotic in that champagne. There's
not much else that could explain the feeling of the moment.
Tabitha feels a little brave and moves her hands around behind Bruce. She
untucks his shirt and slips her cool hands inside. She runs her hands along his
back. Tim's brain screams that there should be some sort of reaction to the
scars, but doesn't say anything. Tabitha pauses over a few of them, lets her
fingers trace them, then moves on. Bruce stiffens almost unnoticeably and Tim
feels an instant of triumph.
It's yanked away when he feels Bruce steering him backwards. They turn, and
then Bruce is sitting on the edge of the bed. Tabitha stands between his legs.
He said I have to do this...for how long!? Tim thinks. He doesn't think he can
take it. Under the careful binding (that he'd practiced forever before getting
it right) he can feel himself get hard. It might be the most uncomfortable
thing he's ever felt.
Bruce slides his hand further under the dress, running it along the back of
Tabitha's thigh. He isn't kissing her now. Their eyes meet again. Her breath is
almost ragged.
"You know, I'm half your age," she murmurs. Tim tells himself it's a mistake to
say that (and reminds himself that half is being generous), then decides he
doesn't really care. It's certainly not as if he can take it back.
Bruce simply laughs. "And yet you agreed to come home with me."
"I just wanted to be clear," she says, laughing a little.
"I don't mind if you don't."
"Oh, Brucie, how could I mind!?"
Bruce smiles and starts to move his hand again.
Tim reminds himself to wash his mouth out with dishwashing detergent at least
once for every time he says Brucie.
Bruce slides his hand along the curve of Tabitha's ass, slipping his thumb
under the line of her underwear - the most expensive kind that Tim could find
in the Victoria's Secret catalog. (He bought three pairs, just, well, in case.)
Tabitha feels heat run through her and she leans down to kiss Bruce again. This
time he lets her do most of the work. She explores his mouth with her tongue,
and his hand inches higher.
She feels braver still, and she moves her hands to unbutton his shirt. He lets
her - why wouldn't he? - and she slides the material open and off of his
shoulders. He moves his hands away from her only long enough to let the shirt
drop onto the bed, and then his hand is right back where it was.
She lets her hands slide along his chest some, but then she decides that
there's no use waiting anymore. Tim is surprised at himself, but he's too
uncomfortably hard to really care for long. Not to mention how good Bruce's
mouth tastes...how good his hands feel...
She drops her hands to his pants and undoes his belt. She pulls her mouth away
from his and starts to kiss his neck. He leans his head to the side, and his
fingers tighten, squeezing her ass a little. She feels her heart race.
"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" he whispers.
Tim thinks he might just come right there if Bruce says those words again.
"I don't know it, but I sure like to hear you say it," Tabitha whispers.
Bruce smiles again. Neither Tim or Tabitha fail to notice.
Her hands undo his belt, then the button on his pants, then the zipper. She
feels her hands shake as one of them wraps around his cock. Tim's conscience
seems to have disappeared, and he simply lets it happen.
Tabby's hand moves faster along Bruce's cock. She feels him tense, feels his
hand tighten on her ass again. After a few minutes, he grabs her wrist and
stops her.
She looks down at him, confused. He looks into her eyes, but says nothing.
He moves his hand out from under her dress and slides it up to her shoulders.
He pushes down gently and she understands. Tim is sure he's blushing like crazy
under the makeup, and wishes it were darker in the room.
Tabitha kneels in front of Bruce. She kisses the tip of his cock, then runs her
tongue along the head. She looks up at Bruce again from under her eyelashes,
letting their eyes meet briefly, then lets her eyes close, taking as much of
him as she can into her mouth.
Again Tim thinks he might die. There's something so intensely fucked up - and
infuriating - about all of this. He thrills at it and hates himself at the same
time. He wishes he knew what the hell Bruce was thinking.
As Tabitha begins to work her mouth around Bruce's cock (and Tim thinks very
briefly about how glad he is for spending thirteen dollars on that sixteen-hour
no-rub lipstick), Bruce's hands rest on her shoulders. She can feel him tense
and loves it. She doesn't bother teasing him for very long - she wants to taste
him. Tim blames the champagne again before all thoughts disappear, and there's
only Tabitha's mouth on Bruce's cock, moving faster and trying to get more of
it in her mouth all at once.
And Bruce's hands tighten just a little too tight, and he comes, saying her
name.
Tim almost chokes, but not quite.
Bruce pulls Tabby to her feet, then lays back on the bed with her on top of
him. Tim tries not to wiggle, but he can't stand how hard he is, and how
there's no real way for this stupid act to continue and for him to still get
anything out of it. He wants Bruce to reciprocate - he wants to be touched,
kissed, everything.
Bruce reaches over and turns out the light.
He pulls Tabby up closer and kisses along her neck, where there's no makeup. He
sucks gently right where her neck starts to curve into her shoulder and she
moans.
"Bruce..." Tim can't seem to make himself add the "ie" this time. But it
suffices.
Bruce unzips the back of her dress and rolls her onto her side.
She can't make out his face in the darkness and doesn't care.
"I want you," she says, breathlessly.
Bruce doesn't answer her with words. Instead, he pushes her dress down off her
shoulders, taking the oh-so-realistic padding with it. Tim is almost glad.
Bruce's hands don't stop there. Still sucking on her neck, he slides he hands
down further and pushes her panties off with her dress. She moans and leans
into his mouth. He sucks harder, and she moves her legs enough so that
together, they work the dress and the underwear off. Tim is sure they'll get
caught on the shoes, but somehow, they don't. Bruce doesn't bother to take the
shoes off. Last, he moves his hands up again and removes all the careful
binding as if it were nothing, allowing Tim's too-hard cock to finally be
released from its confinement. Tim would be annoyed about the ease Bruce does
this with, if he weren't so relieved by it.
For a second he thinks of how fucked up and ridiculous this is - all that's
left now is a boy with hair extensions, makeup, high heels, and too many
diamonds...and Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, womanizer extraordinaire.
Bruce pulls Tim - Tabitha? - closer and whispers into his - her? - ear.
"I want you, too," he says, "...Tabby."
Tim thinks about kicking him and decides to do it later. The only response he
has is to moan and press his body against Bruce's. He wonders how Bruce can
still treat him like a girl this way when he's so obviously hard. He knows
Bruce can feel it - their bodies couldn't get much closer.
Bruce's hand slides down again. He pulls one of Tabitha's legs up so it's
wrapped around his waist, then slides his hand back up and pushes one finger
against Tim's ass.
Tim buries his face against Bruce's chest and tries not to scream as he pushes
his finger inside.
"You still want me?" Bruce asks, but Tim is sure the question is all for show.
"Of course I do!" he says in Tabitha's voice.
"Mmn...good...." Bruce whispers. Tim can't help but wonder if that's a
reference to Tim's Oscar-deserving performance.
Bruce moves his finger again, and Tim feels his hands clench on Bruce's
shoulders - there's too much resistance and he knows it.
Bruce pulls his hand away for a moment and rolls far enough away to
do...something in the darkness.
Tim hears the noises and thinks he understands. He has a moment of clarity
where he realizes that this is all incomparably wrong and fucked up and that he
shouldn't enjoy it so damn much before he stops thinking with his brain. He
wiggles against Bruce, mostly involuntarily, and Bruce finally turns back
around.
This time when he puts his hand back, Tim can feel the lubricant on his
fingers, thankfully enough. It hurts significantly less when Bruce pushes
inside him this time.
He cries out into Bruce's chest, not caring whose voice it is, and pushes back
against Bruce's hand, wanting more and wanting it now. Bruce moves his fingers
inside of Tim and sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. He moves with Bruce
as best as he can, crying out wordlessly against Bruce. Bruce goes faster.
"Brucie..." he manages. That will mean one more pump from the soap dispenser,
and he doesn't care.
Bruce moves his hand hard, and Tim is sure it's some kind of punishment for
using that stupid pet name. But it hurts in the best way, and he pushes back
against Bruce's hand again.
Bruce keeps Tim pulled up against him with one arm, and just fucks him with his
hand. Tim can't seem to still his hips.
Finally, he comes, nearly biting through his lip and still failing to be
anything resembling quiet.
Bruce kisses along his neck again, and won't stop moving his hand. Tim wants to
scream for more than a few different reasons.
"...B...bruce..." he says, somehow still managing to use Tabitha's voice.
"Mmn, Tabby..." Bruce responds. Tim no longer cares. He can't even find the
urge to kick him.
"I want you so badly..."
Bruce moves his hand faster and Tim can't think anything coherent to save his
life.
He feels like he's going to come again just like this, and has an insane moment
where he thinks that this must be that multiple orgasms thing that women's
magazines all talk about....then Bruce finally pulls his hand away.
Tim has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid glaring up at Bruce.
"I want you, too," Bruce finally says, in that voice that Tim both loves and
hates - a voice he wishes were for him and not for Tabby.
Bruce doesn't wait for an answer. He moves away a little. Without being told,
Tabitha moves closer to the middle of the bed, on her stomach instead of her
side. Bruce moves again, this time towards her. He runs his hand down her back
and she shivers.
He moves behind her and leans down, moving her hair away to kiss the back of
her neck. She shivers again and her hips move up towards him. His hand rests on
her hip, and he draws her up onto her knees.
Tim thinks again of how fucked in the head he and Bruce both must be for this,
and then there is nothing but Bruce's cock inside him and the screams he's
making into the pillow. He pretends Bruce is saying his name instead of
Tabby's. They both begin with T, anyway....
Bruce's hand tightens on her hip and she moves with him, harder and faster and
more frantically. Tim can feel his cock get hard again and he wishes Bruce
would touch him there, just for a minute....but of course Bruce doesn't. He
still kisses the back of Tabitha's neck, and she cries out again as he begins
sucking there, instead.
Finally, they're coming, together, and she forgets to scream into the pillow
this time. Bruce's hand squeezes too tight on her hip - Tim is sure it's not an
accident - and they lay there for nearly a full minute before he pulls out.
They lay there together, and Bruce pulls her close again, letting her lay her
head on his chest.
"You're perfect," Bruce whispers, though it's unclear whether that's part of
this fucked up act...or a compliment for Tim.
Tim can't think of anything to say. He can hardly think at all. He doesn't
remember falling asleep.
 
* * *
"Tim."
Bruce's voice cuts through Tim's dreamless sleep. He has a hard time opening
his eyes and can't figure out why. Finally, they slide open and he looks up at
Bruce's face. The room is still dark, but it's not surprising.
Tim rolls over. He's a little sore, and the nights activities flood back into
his brain. His eyes open wider. The mascara. That's why my eyes wouldn't open.
Oh, FUCK.

"Bruce..." he begins.
Bruce just shakes his head and Tim closes his mouth. Bruce tilts his head and
studies Tim for a minute.
"I really don't like that shade of lipstick on you," Bruce finally says.
Tim glares at him and rolls back over, annoyed and embarrassed. He notices that
the shoes are finally gone. So is all the expensive jewelry. Bruce must have
taken everything off. That means Tim probably won't get to keep it all, which
makes him irrationally more annoyed.
"Tim."
"Bruce," Tim says, sounding almost like he's pouting.
Bruce pulls down the covers some. Tim grits his teeth and refuses to try and
take the covers back. Bruce's hand rests on his back. He squeezes his eyes shut
and makes a valiant effort to ignore Bruce.
Bruce leans down and breathes into his ear. "You did an excellent job."
Batman would never be so open with his compliments. Tim didn't think Bruce
would, either, but, well, Bruce is apparently full of surprises.
"....thank you..." Tim manages in a small voice.
Bruce pulls him over onto his back. Tim can't bring himself to struggle.
Bruce's mouth covers Tim's, and his tongue slides into Tim's mouth. The kiss
isn't as deep or as long as Tim wants it to be. All too soon, Bruce stands
again. Tim stares at him.
Bruce studies him again, and Tim finds Batman there in his eyes. "Meet me
downstairs in an hour. I want to go over what you found out."
He's holding the diamond pendant. Tim feels his face flush as he wonders just
how much ended up on tape. He makes a mental note to find the dishwashing
detergent as soon as Bruce is done with him.
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