Bruce Wayne parked the Bentley in the garage, then headed for the Batcave. He had a theory and needed the computers to check it out. Then he would do exactly what he'd told his ward he would do before he'd left for the dedication ceremony at Gotham Observatory -- he'd go after Poison Ivy. Alone.

Something was happening to him. Had been happening to him ever since he'd laid eyes on Gotham's newest villainess. And he didn't like it. His thinking had been muddled, his instincts uncertain. Not a good thing when one lived or died by the sharpness of both of them. But if he'd guessed right, Ivy had finally made a mistake tonight.

He'd seen Pamela Isley talking with Gordon earlier in the evening. He'd had the faint impression of her blowing something into the Police Commissioner's face. A few moments later, he'd caught a whiff of a scent which made his teeth hurt with lust. The same scent and lust he'd felt for Ivy. He refused to believe two different women could have the same insane effect on him.

It only took minutes to confirm his suspicions. The file photos of each woman matched up in jaw line, nose structure, etc. Isley's file gave him the other answer -- part of her research had included working with pheromones.

Confirmation helped clear his head, even if arousal kept his blood near boiling. He cursed himself. He should have figured all of this out sooner. It would have spared Julie Madison some pain. Yes, he'd known he'd have to end it with her, but he'd owed her the truth, not some careless words in the midst of a pheromone-induced fog.

He'd have to talk to her about her real rival. After the Bat had wrapped this mess up and made the existence of the pheromone dust known. She would probably have preferred the falsehood to the truth, but some secrets couldn't be kept. Not from a scandal-hungry press. Not even from himself.

He shook his head. Maybe that's why he'd been effected so strongly by the dust -- it had allowed his mind to delay the inevitable. He'd dated Julie for over a year and found her charming, witty and intelligent, not to mention undeniably beautiful. Yet he'd given no serious thought to more than a casual relationship. All while he clashed with his ward about Bruce's lack of trust in Dick's abilities.

Stupid. He'd known all along he had nothing but the deepest level of trust and respect in Dick's skill. Yet he'd let himself be lured into angry exchanges indicating he felt otherwise. No, his tendency towards being over-protective had nothing to do with a lack of trust, and everything to do with the need for a man to protect his-

An alert signal interrupted his thoughts, and the main computer screen filled with the Gotham skyline. A moment later the Batsignal shone against the clouds. No, not the Batsignal. It had been altered somehow from a Bat to a Robin. Oh, no.

His heart sank. He wasn't ready for the confrontation this would force. He needed more time and a cooler head. But he wasn't going to get it. In fact he had far less time than he'd expected for Robin emerged from the costume room. Bruce had been so lost in thought, he hadn't heard him come down.

"Where do you think you're going?" It was a struggle to keep the edge out of his voice. If Robin had been dressing before the signal shone, he'd intended to disobey Bruce about staying home tonight. He wanted to fight about that, wanted to rage about disobedient young fools, but he'd figured himself out in the last few hours. No more fights to distract himself.

"That's not a Batlight; it's a Robinsignal. Ivy's calling me," Robin answered, pulling on his left gauntlet.

Information, try to clear the kid's head with information. "Her name is Pamela Isley. I saw her talking to Gordon. She must have stolen his keys and changed the signal."

"Yeah, she did it for me, for love."

Oh, God. Had he been this dumbstruck when under the influence of Ivy's dust? "She's infected us with some sort of pheromone extract."

"Oh, is that what it is, Bruce? I'm under some kind of magic spell?"

"She wants to kill you, Dick." Inwardly, he winced at the way he said his partner's name. It sounded more like a shortened form of 'dickhead,' than a nickname for 'Richard.'

"You'd say anything to keep her away from me, wouldn't you? To keep her for yourself," Robin snapped and headed for the Redbird.

All right, information hadn't worked, time to play on his emotions. "You once said to me that being part of a team means trusting your partner and sometimes counting on someone else is the only way to win. You remember that?"

Robin stopped, then turned towards him, a silent indication he did indeed remember.

"You weren't talking about being partners. You were talking about being a family. So I'm asking you, as a friend, a partner, a brother -- will you trust me now?"

Crystal blue eyes stared at him, while a deep breath lifted his shoulders. For one brief moment, Bruce thought he had him, but then Robin shook his head. "No, you don't want that. You just want to keep me from going to her."

Damn. All right, when all else fails, perhaps the truth could save him. "You're right," Bruce acknowledged, moving slowly towards Robin. "I don't want you to go." It occurred to him he could simply overpower his ward and lock him in the cave, but decided it was the coward's way out. Worse, tactically it would be a disaster. Despite his earlier resolve to go after Ivy alone, he knew he would need Robin at his side if the woman was with Freeze.

"You do want her for yourself." He could see Robin's muscles tensing, readying himself for an attack.

Bruce shook his head. "No, I thought I did, but it's not her I want at all."

Those eyes widened, and Robin's lips parted as if to speak, but words didn't come, leaving his mouth an invitation.

Keeping his hands carefully at his sides, Bruce leaned forward, closing the last few inches between them, then kissed him. Warm flesh claimed by a firm touch he swiftly deepened. Oh, yes.

A soft cry, almost like the call of the bird Robin had taken his name from, sounded around Bruce's tongue, then Robin embraced him, began to encourage the kiss with pressure and explorations of his own.

Bruce's good intentions evaporated beneath the heat of the response and the pheromones dancing in his blood stream. With a growl, he pushed Robin over to one of the workbenches, then shoved him.

Robin fell back against the hard surface with a grunt, then yelped when Bruce ripped the groin guard from his costume.

"You're mine!" Bruce snapped, jerking open the hidden zipper running from the top of Robin's groin to his tail bone. "Do you hear me? Mine."

Panting with either fear or passion, perhaps a mixture of both, Robin gasped, "Yes."

The answer appeased him enough to give Bruce back a measure of sanity, and he took the time to wet his fingers with spit, then loosen the tight muscles protecting the entrance to Robin's body.

The boy whimpered at the intrusion, but his cock was hard, and he whispered, "Hurry. Please."

More spit to ease his way, then he shoved his cock all the way in. He grunted at the discomfort, while Robin howled -- a sound ringing with as much pleasure as pain.

He almost withdrew, but strong legs encircled his torso, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. Harder. He obeyed his lover's demands and a soft gasp of "yours" rewarded each thrust.

Robin came with another scream, this one a sound of pure ecstasy. Bruce's own shout of completion rang through the cave before the echo of the first faded.

With release came clarity. Oh, God. He eased out of Robin, then helped him sit up. "Dick, did I hurt you?" Not one of his more brilliant questions. Of course he had -- it was a matter of degree not if. "Dick?"

"'m okay." The soft mutter did little to reassure Bruce.

"Sure you are. Come on." He didn't so much as have to carry Robin to the Cave's infirmary as guide him like a small, lost puppy. The fire seemed to have drained from Robin. It was not a sight he cared for.

He coaxed him onto a cot, then turned him onto his stomach. Bruce told his libido to give it a rest when his pulse raced at the sight of the partially bared buttocks, then he gently eased them apart. The small hole looked red and swollen, but to his relief he found no sign of blood or tearing. On the other hand, better safe than sorry.

Finding a tube of antibiotic ointment, he smeared some over his fingers, then caressed the battered flesh.

A hiss of breath and Robin stiffened.

Bruce froze, the first joint of two fingers inside the boy. "It needs to be done, Dick." But he didn't have to be the one to do it. He began to withdraw his fingers, but Robin's flesh clinched around them.

"No. Bruce, please." He thrust backward, deepening the penetration even though it had to be uncomfortable.

Damn, those pheromones, Robin must still be burning. He pressed a kiss against what little neck the costume didn't cover. "What do you want?"

"You."

Good to hear, but not very helpful. "Shift over," he said, helping Robin maneuver so the fingers he held so desperately stayed in place. Awkward, but they managed. The lovely sight of a hard cock jutting out from the costume reward his efforts, and Bruce swooped down to claim it.

Bruce had traveled the world studying with the best in every field he felt the Batman needed to master. Along the way, he had picked up experience of a sort Alfred would never have approved of, but he'd found sexual favors made temperamental geniuses more cooperative. And he'd enjoyed it. Even missed it from time to time when he'd opted only to bed women after his return to Gotham. At least until a young man with beautiful blue eyes and a quick smile had entered his life.

His fingers thrust, his tongue licked, his lips sucked. Within a minute Robin cried out, his seed spilling into Bruce's mouth. He drank greedily, loving the taste of it and the softening flesh captured between his lips. With a sigh of regret he released the cock and withdrew his fingers.

He re-zipped Robin's costume, then leaned over and kissed his lips. "Rest a minute."

A soft sound he could put no real meaning to answered him, but it would have to do. Almost twenty-five minutes had passed since the Robinsignal had appeared. They were running out of time. Bruce suited up, retrieved Robin's groin guard, then returned to the infirmary.

Robin was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking very subdued. He took the guard without comment, then pulled it on while Batman picked up a liquid compound they used to protect wounds.

"What's that for?" Robin asked as Batman approached.

"Your lips," he answered, then painted them with the rubber-like substance. "You might not be able to avoid kissing Ivy." And he was convinced her kiss was deadly.

Robin looked away. "I don't want to anymore. I don't think ... I ever really did."

Batman caught Robin's chin in a gauntlet covered hand, then gently guided his face back around so their eyes met. The misery he saw allowed him to almost hear Robin's mind swiftly coming to the conclusion that he'd been fucked to keep him out of Ivy's clutches, not because he was desired, let alone loved. "You weren't alone in misdirected passion."

Hope flickered in pools of blue. "You wanted me?"

"For a long time," he said, getting Robin to his feet and moving towards the waiting Redbird. "It just took me some time to figure it out."

Robin settled onto the Redbird with great care, then looked up at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He kissed him, a less than satisfying touch given the invisible barrier, but a necessary one. "Everything will be all right."

Robin nodded, then the Redbird roared out of the cave.

Batman shook his head. Alfred was dying, he didn't know how Barbara fit into the scheme of things, and Freeze and Ivy were still on the loose, but an undercurrent of happiness danced within him. He didn't have to face any of it alone. His friend, his partner, his lover -- Robin would always be at his side.

He took a brief second to savor the truth of it, then turned on his heel and headed for the Batmobile. There was work to be done.

the end

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