Chapter Nine
Dick had seldom seen Bruce utterly, completely taken by surprise. His face showed an openness that made him look younger. Dick had an instant flash of the Bruce Wayne who had first taken him in. A young man really, in his early twenties, though as a nine-year-old, Dick had thought of him as 'old'. Very blue eyes, nice eyes, not like the mean, hard eyes he'd seen too much of during his short stay in the Gotham City Home for Boys. Bruce had been a man with an easy smile and a soft voice, full of patience, understanding and comfort. This was what had bonded the two of them so closely, and what endured, even as the Bat took over more and more.
But back to the present, Dick smiled as Bruce stared at him. "Uh, you wanna move a little bit so I can get in here? There's sort of a draft." Dick had put away the groceries and shed his clothes before opening the shower door.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah, yes," Bruce stepped closer to the spray as Dick climbed in behind him.
"Thanks," Dick slid the door closed and faced Bruce. "So, you've had the hot shower, does everything look better?"
Bruce blinked and shook his head. The idea of being naked in the shower with Dick was almost too much. He was fighting the urge to go into Bat mode so he could handle it. Why? Because it was frightening and it was pleasurable and he wasn't used to either sensation.
"It doesn't?" Dick said, wariness in his voice.
"No," Bruce's voice caught in his throat, he cleared it and spoke again, "No, I mean, no, I haven't had the hot shower. Not really. I've just been standing here. Soaking."
"Ah," Dick laughed. "Well, don't worry, I have the largest hot water capacity available, we could stay in here for hours."
Bruce nodded. He looked at Dick's chest and then his eyes traveled downward. He looked away.
Dick placed Bruce's hand on his hip. "It's okay Bruce. You can look. I've been sneaking peeks at you for years."
"You . . .it's just that you look so different." Bruce wasn't sure what to say, but in order to stay in the moment, and not retreat, not break his word to Dick, he had to open his mouth and let his feelings out. "It's like someone put your face on a man's body. . . " Bruce quickly looked into Dick's eyes, "I don't mean that in a condescending way. I just mean . . .you're still my Dick, but you're different too. It's . . .I'm not used to looking at you this way. To being aroused by you." Bruce put his other hand on Dick's other hip, pulled him closer, and took a deep breath, "But I want to get used to it," Dick's face lit up in a delighted smile, Bruce smiled in return, "VERY used to it."
"I think that can be arranged," Dick said, and kissed Bruce's lips. He let his own hands wander all over the bigger man's body. He caressed the solid chest, ran his hands down to the tapering waist, around to take the hard buttocks in his hands and squeeze.
Bruce was on unsure footing that had nothing to do with the slippery tiles beneath his feet. He wasn't completely comfortable in this new relationship with Dick yet, though he was working on it with everything he had. He'd never been pawed by a man before. He'd never done what Dick was doing now, really explored anyone's body. Even the women he slept with, it was not like this. He'd hit the hot spots; breasts, clitoris, vagina, then when she was wet enough, he'd enter and stay hard until he saw the reddish flush come over her face and chest, then he'd let go himself. That was it. An exercise in physical exertion, observation, and self control. There wasn't any curiosity or joy, as Dick was showing now. Bruce wasn't even sure now if he'd ever 'made love' with anyone before. He'd had sex, definitely, many times, but had he ever made love?
Of course not. There was no room in Batman's life for frivolities; to him, the sex drive was no different than the need for food or sleep, merely a physical need that had to be filled before he could continue his work. However, beneath Batman's cowl lived a very human Bruce Wayne, and even Batman could deny his physical needs only so long before they became a distraction that interfered with his concentration. Typically, though, he'd found a way to make fulfilling that need serve a dual purpose with the least inconvenience to him. The numerous women Bruce Wayne bedded went home satisfied and thrilled, and gave credence to his image as a playboy; for Batman, these assignations, clinical and mechanical as they were, were sufficient to dispel the irritating distraction.
He'd never made love; in his entire life, he'd never known that simple human joy. It shocked him, now that he thought about it, shocked and saddened him in a way he couldn't quite name. But, that was too deep to contemplate, especially now, with so much at stake. Bruce couldn't risk losing himself in introspective brooding.
One thing he was sure of, he had never taken a shower with anyone before, though he had bathed Dick a few times when he'd needed help due to extreme fatigue, illness, a bad sprain or a broken bone, and Alfred wasn't around, for whatever reason. In fact, the last time wasn't so long ago. Despite Alfred's best efforts at prevention, Dick had come down with a serious bacterial infection. His fever had climbed to 104 F. Dr. Leslie Tompkins, a colleague of Thomas Wayne's and one of the very few people who knew the true identity of Batman and Robin, had prescribed two antibiotics, plenty of fluids and cool baths every two hours. Unfortunately, Dick was too weak from the infection and too woozy from the drugs to even stand, much less get himself into the bath tub. He was also seventeen years old, five feet nine inches, one hundred and eighteen pounds of solid muscle and just plain too damn big for Alfred to handle. So Bruce had been pressed into service.
He had to admit now that he had felt a strong attraction to Dick the first time he'd seen the boy's naked body when he'd carried him to the tub, but at the time he'd passed it off as an appreciation for the perfection of form, the beauty of the musculature, the sinew and the bone. Certainly Dick had been a magnificent specimen, even though he'd still been a bit too gangly, a tad out of proportion, shoulders not quite wide enough, torso and hips still a bit too thick to taper gracefully. Already, his cheeks had been covered with a dark fuzz, needing to be shaved every two days or so, yet still apple round, illustrating perfectly the struggle of the man to emerge from the boy, as is the curse of puberty.
In that situation though, Dick had been ill and helpless and it had been easy for Bruce to sublimate his illegal and unwanted desires beneath a very real paternal concern and care for the boy. Now though, the man before him was very healthy, and quite able. And what he wanted was for Bruce to give in to the desire filling his mind, his heart and his loins even now. Dick had liked it when he'd pulled him close, what else would he like? Bruce thought about it, but he wasn't sure of his next move. One way to find out.
"What would you like me to do?"
Dick smiled and kissed the man in his arms. This was Bruce, not a trace of the Bat. He knew he'd have to tread even more carefully now, but at least he'd broken through. "Nothing," Dick breathed into Bruce's ear, reaching for the bar of Fulcrum 2000 soap, "let me do something."
Dick took the cloth he'd brought in with him and soaped it liberally, releasing the strong clean fragrance. Then he put the sudsy material to Bruce's cheek and gently washed his face and neck. Then he lathered the square jaw again, flipped open a plastic box on his shower shelf and took out a razor. "Mind if I shave you?"
" . . . I guess not."
"Good." Dick shook the razor under the water to wet the blades.
"You mean just my face, right." Bruce said the question as a statement.
Dick laughed, "Yes, of course! I'm not into 'sexual shaving'. Nicks, cuts and razor burn don't suggest 'foreplay' to me." Dick looked down dramatically, "Especially there."
Bruce laughed and more tension left his shoulders. Dick noticed and decided that it might be a good idea to back off on the sexual aspect for a bit. Two steps forward and one step back, but it was still progress.
"I loved watching you do this when I was little," Dick said, scraping the razor up Bruce's neck. "I was fascinated by it. I always wanted to ask if you'd let me do it for you once." He rinsed the blade.
"Why didn't you?"
"I figured you say no, so there was no point in asking." Dick uncovered another wide swath of smooth skin.
"I would have said yes."
"Really? You're kidding me! What if I'd slit your throat or something?" Dick had dropped his arm in surprise.
"A small price to pay for fostering your curiosity." Bruce took Dick's hand and guided the razor back to his face.
"You really would have let me? Wow." Dick stroked the razor over the strong chin.
"Dick, there is a secret I've kept for a long time. I worked pretty hard to keep you from knowing it before, because I didn't think it would be good for you, but now, maybe it's time I told you."
Dick paused, the razor in mid-air. He swallowed nervously. "What?"
Bruce took a deep breath. "Well . . . okay, here it is, you've pretty much had me wrapped around your little finger from day one, chum. It has always been hard for me to say no to you."
"WHAT??? . . . What do . . .I . .wha . .WHAT?!" Dick exclaimed, his mouth hung open; he was speechless.
"Yeah, I know. It's pretty hard to believe, but it's true. You should have seen all the stuff I bought for you that first Christmas. It filled two rooms!" Bruce chuckled at the memory. "But Alfred said it wouldn't be good to inundate you with too many presents, especially on your first Christmas without your parents. He said it might give you a guilt complex if your best Christmas was only made possible by their deaths. So I gave half of it to the Wayne Children's Charity. Alfred said it was still too much and he gave away three fourths of what was left."
"Damn!"
Bruce grinned at that. "I know that I gave you a lot of rules - homework time, chores, workouts, curfew, bedtime - but I did try to get you anything that you ever really wanted. I've had to fight against indulging you too much. I . . . adore you, Dick, always have."
Dick leaned forward and kissed Bruce, ignoring the lather. "I've always worshipped you."
Bruce hugged him tight to his body, "Dick," he kissed the dark hair, the wet face, "Oh God Dick, I'm sorry that I have always been so stoic, so damn detached."
"You haven't, Bruce!" Dick looked into the ice blue eyes, shaking his head. "I always knew you loved me, Bruce, always. You did show me how you felt, I understood your way of expressing it. I never felt you were detached from me, never."
They kissed again, deeply, with all their hearts, until they were breathless and the blood was pounding in their brains. Finally, when they were forced to it, they separated, panting. Dick re-lathered the left half of Bruce's face.
"Better finish this, we have a long way to go."
After lovingly shaving the rest of Bruce's face, Dick took the washcloth and ran it over the wide shoulders and firm chest. He washed Bruce's arms and back.
"You know it's been a long time since I've had somebody else bathe me," Bruce commented.
"I know. Just relax, enjoy it." Dick rubbed hard at Bruce's back muscles, gratified by the answering moan.
Dick gestured to the ledge of the tub, "Put your foot there."
Bruce complied and Dick washed his leg, and then the other. He stood, rinsed the cloth and soaped it up again. He stepped close to Bruce, and, looking him in the eye, took hold of the jutting hardness between his legs and rubbed the warm suds up and down the shaft.
Bruce moaned and came the second Dick reached the tip. Too quick, but it felt too good. "Dick, I -"
"Shhh, that's what I wanted," Dick purred, pulling the shower head down to rinse himself and Bruce, then soaping him up again. This time he was able to soap and massage the balls as well as the shaft, which elicited more sounds of contentment from Bruce. "Turn around."
Bruce complied, surprised to feel Dick's hand rub the slippery cloth over his cheeks and then between them, but he was outright shocked when Dick's finger poked the cloth into his passageway and gently rotated. "Oh! . . .ummm . . ."
"It's okay." Dick rubbed Bruce's back soothingly with his other hand.
The finger inched further in. "Ahhhhh," Bruce felt himself hardening again.
"Nice, isn't it?" Dick said, as if discussing a particularly pleasing rack of lamb.
"Uh . . .uh-huh," Bruce said, unable to articulate further.
Dick removed the cloth and brought the shower head down again, and rinsed Bruce thoroughly, opening him wide with one hand to do so, which elicited a gasp. "I know, just a sec, almost done." He put the nozzle to Bruce's entryway and flooded him with warm water.
The sensation made Bruce weak at the knees, he held onto the shower wall for support, "Oooooooooooooooo."
"How is that?" Dick asked, mischievously.
"Nice," Bruce answered in a breathless voice.
Abruptly, Dick replaced the shower head in its holder. "Okay, you're clean."
Bruce leaned against the wall a beat longer, adjusting to the change and feeling the blood continue to pound in his groin. Then he pushed himself away and turned to look at Dick. "That was a dirty trick," he took the washcloth he'd hung on the shower door for his own use and wetted it in the spray. " And you're even dirtier."
