Author's Notes: This, and the second part of Oppertunity, is very explicite. Thus the Mature rating. Please, if you decide to read this realize that it IS slash and it DOES describe graphic (and possibly very squicksome) sexaul acts. The rest of the series is PG-13 for the most part as everyone tries to deal with what happens in Oppertunity.

!

I'm supposed to be tracing the money trail of the newest gang to come into Gotham. The idiots seem to think we're a good place to distribute their designer drugs. Of course, I finished that assignment twenty minutes ago. These guys aren't very with it. Bruce will probably just turn the information over to Gordon and let the man do his job. That works for me, since I have a feeling the bat and I will have bigger fish to fry.

Or plants.

At the moment, he's dealing with Poison Ivy. Again. She's worse then a weed, that one. Part of me wishes I was out there with him, but I had a job to do here and by the time I get out to the botanical gardens, Batman will already be mopping up. So I sit at the large super computer in my costume, minus the mask, just watching my musings running through my wired mind. Maybe I should give up the Zetsi cola like Dick says. Caffeine and sugar, the perfect combination for a teen-aged crime fighter.

Thinking of the former boy wonder, I have to smile. He's currently busy in New York, his new base of operations, and hasn't been around recently. I miss the hugs, the friendly touches and yes, the sex. According to the legalities we are brothers, just not by blood. When you face death or worse on a nightly basis, you need some way to blow off steam. Sex is far more enjoyable then yelling at each other.

The first time had been shortly after my father was killed. To say I was a mess would be the understatement of the century. I'd tried to hide away, to shut everyone out. Of course Dick refused to play along with that. Pushy bastard. He'd spent the better part of a day just holding me, letting my cry myself out over and over. I'm not sure when it happened, but I'm pretty sure I'm the one that initiated the kiss. I'll admit that my mind hadn't been properly engaged at the time, or else I doubt I would have tried something that bold, not with Dick, no matter how attractive or safe he is to me. To risk a working relationship for the sake of physical gratification should have been out of the question. Never mind that it wasn't about physical anything.

A kiss. A touch. More of the same, increasing in need and desperation, on my part at least. Dick had been so careful, talking to me, making me verbalize what I wanted. Looking back on it, I can honestly say that my greatest wish had been for intimacy and to be reminded that I was still alive, that I could feel something other then the constant pain of my heart. I love him, I know that now just as I've always known it. There is no doubt in my mind that he feels the same way, so the sex was just a logical extension of our feelings. That first coupling had been mind blowing on so very many levels, but also bitter sweet.

Dick didn't push me the morning after. Or the following week, or even the following month. He'd waited for me to come to him, to make up my mind about what I really wanted and needed. That, so much more then the sex, meant everything to me. It still does.

We aren't monogamous, nor lovers in some fairy tale sense. We are both masked vigilantes with our own territories, our own lives. We won't ever have the white picket fence fantasy and honestly, I wouldn't want it. We are family and nothing will ever change that.

Bruce is family too, but that's one person I'll never find in my bed. I've had a crush on him for years. Probably even before I realized it was a crush. No, it's not a crush since that would imply a childish infatuation. I know it's so much more then that, at times it scares me. However I gave up on that particular lust filled day dream a long time ago. It won't ever happen for a great many reasons, not the least of which being Bruce having adopted me. It's the same reason why he never jumped Dick.

I know it's not a lack of desire, I've caught the fleeting glances he casts after Nightwing and myself when we're out on patrol, in the showers, or even sharing a rare meal together. Never mind the year we spent travelling together. I can read the signs; after all, he trained me to be a detective. Not that I can or would do anything about it. If I made a move he'd run. Same with Dick trying anything. We both know this and we both let him have his space. It has to be this way. Bruce is the strongest, most determined man I know. Yet he's broken, and it wouldn't take much to truly shatter his very being. I don't think I could live with myself if I was responsible. I know Dick feels the same way. We've had this conversation a few times previously. It doesn't stop me from wishing things are different.

Still, there is nothing for it and no point in wasting my energy.

I turn my wandering thoughts back to reality and work on finishing up my report. As my fingers fly over the keys I absently check on Batman's progress. Vitals are strong, though it looks like whatever henchmen Ivy's got this time are actually making him break a sweat for a change. No running commentary, of course, that's not his style. I don't expect to hear anything until either he's got it all wrapped up and heads back, or there's a problem and he wants some assistance.

I know, I'm not really supposed to use the batcomputer for homework, but I got all the official stuff done and there are resources on this thing that the laptop in my room can't hope to match. Also, Alfred hates it when we wear the suits in the manor and I really don't want to have get redressed later if Batman calls.

Seems like I really got into the psychology report I'm putting together for extra credit since I didn't even hear Batman say he was returning the cave. The car just came through the tunnel and pulled to a stop in it's accustomed spot. A little frown furrows my brow. No, I hadn't heard him because he hadn't called in. See, I'm really not that out of it.

He exits the car before I can think to check the computer monitor readouts again, and he's not limping or anything, so at least he's not hurt. I've seen him do the stoic, silent shit he uses to cover up his injuries way too many times as is. The man can be so goddamn infuriating! It's a wonder Alfred hasn't murdered him yet. The butler has the patience of a saint.

"Success?" I ask conversationally. Okay, I know it's going to be one-sided. If I'm lucky I'll get monosyllable words instead of vague grunts. He doesn't answer at me all. Have things gone that badly? Surely he would have called it in if a bystander had been hurt. Or one of the bad guys even.

I watch him move and there are warning bells going off in my head. I've spent years training under him, working beside him so I know how the Bat moves, the fluid grace of carefully contained power. Soundless. Even though I live with him and have had years to get used to his habits, he can still sneak up on me without even trying. So when it registers that he's moving in a halted, jerky fashion and I can hear his steps, my every nerve is set on edge. Something is wrong very wrong.

The muscles in my legs are tensing just as I'm about to get up from the over-sized computer chair. In the same instant he's on me, his strong hands clamped down on the arms of the chair, his legs against mine, effectively caging me into the seat. The white-out lens are still in place, so I can't see his eyes to tell what's going through his mind. Is this another lesson? Has he been taken over by an alien mind probe? Or was Deadman having fun again? Maybe Bat-Mite?

He's trembling and I'm willing to bet that he's white knuckled inside the gauntlets, given the way he's clutching the chair. I can hear him breathing, deep and ragged as though he can't get quite enough air into his lungs. This is so very wrong.

"Batman?" Always use hero names when the suit is on. That's one of the rules and it makes sense. But at that moment, I don't think it's Batman who is before me anymore. I watch as he works his jaw. He's trying to say something but there is no sound involved. Well, I can read lips. Narrowing my eyes, I concentrate.

Poison.

Ivy.

Pollen.

Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap! Wait a minute. "Did you use the anti-toxin?" I ask. He should have some, at least three doses in the belt and more in the car. We dealt with enough crazies that use various chemicals in their villainy that we can't have it any other way. Even if he'd needed to give it to bystanders, he should have had enough left over for himself. So why….?

He gives a sharp, jerky nod. His jaw is clenched so tightly that my own aches in sympathy. Right, so he's taken the stuff, why is he still obviously being effected by the godforsaken pheromones? And it has to be Ivy's damn sex pollen, it always the same modus operandi with her. The theory being that it will allow her to enslave others to her will by manipulating their hormones and bodies. It's pretty damn effective actually. Thus the need for lots of available anti-toxin.

So I'm sitting here, held prisoner in the chair by a horny Batman. A horny Batman who is obviously fighting for some measure of control, battling the impulses the drug is forcing on him. I know from experience what kind of damage such an effort can do on both the physical and psychological level. We have to counteract the toxin, that or knock him out until it runs it's course. If it runs its course.

I could do both. The way he's fighting with himself means that I could over power him if I tried. He'd hand me my ass in a fair fight, but right now, he's too busy trying to hold off the effects of the pollen to mount an effective attack. Still, I stay where I am, some part of me stunned by the smell of him, Nomex, Kevlar and sweat. So close and warm.

An analytical corner of my mind is wondering if the toxin is now effecting me. I don't think it is but reflexively I give my head a shake anyway. A strong, gloved hand seizes my jaw and forces me to look up. Bruce's lips are impossibly red and swollen, as though he's been biting them. I have the insane urge to kiss him. Nope, not gonna do that. That would be bad.

Except it's not my choice to make. Hot, hungry lips press to mine and begin working, trying to force my mouth open. Okay, so I don't make him work very hard. I mean I've wanted this for so very long and now here we are. I part my lips, only to dizzily register the fact that he's stopped.

Opening eyes I hadn't known I closed I look at him. He's still there, still standing over me, still all but pinning me in the chair. Except now his head is bowed and pulled back. The strong arms are shaking with effort. The effort not to kiss me?

I should take my chance. I should slip under his hold and go for the anti-toxin, or the tranquilizers. But he'd already had one dose of the anti-toxin. Would two be harmful? How would it react with the pollen in his system since this seems to be something new? And how would tranquilizers react to the drugs he's already taken? A small part of my mind is berating my lack of knowledge in this area. I'll have to research it later.

"Batman?" The trembling stops. I know he's holding himself rock still through sheer force of will. He doesn't look at me. "Batman?" I repeat, my voice soft with concern but not fear, never fear. I reach out and lay my cool fingers on his flushed cheek. The damn pollen is burning him up from the inside out. That thought galvanizes me. Yes this is something I want, but more importantly it's something he needs.

At the touch of my fingers he looks at me, shock in the line of his jaw. I don't say anything this time, I just lean forward and press my lips to his, swiping them with my tongue. Bruce has never put much stock in words, claiming that actions speak much better. That's fine, I can show him that I'm willing to do this for him.

I don't know how I got from sitting in the chair to being bent forward over the computer console, but here I am. The weight of Bruce's body is pressed up against the back of my thighs. I can feel the heat of him even though the armor. It seems harder to breath and I try to swallow against my startled pants. With a slow rocking motion I feel the man's hips grind against my far too accessible ass. The Kevlar makes for a frustrating barrier for both of us. I try to twist around, intending to offer to strip only to feel a powerful hand on the back of my neck holding me down. There is a low base growl somewhere close to my ear. It's the only warning I get before teeth clamp down on the junction of neck and shoulder. The armor protects me exactly as it was meant to, but I can still feel it.

A gasping mewl escapes my lips even as I go limp in his hold. Dick isn't like this. Dick is a gentle and considerate lover, a die hard romantic that has turned luxuriant foreplay into an art form. Bruce is nothing like Dick. Maybe it can be blamed on the drug cruising through his system, but I doubt it. Bruce is what he is, a dark force of nature. Proficient and lethal in all things he turns his hand too. It only makes sense that he'll be the same way when it comes to sex.

I'm not complaining.

To be so completely dominated is an incredible feeling. I know he could hurt me badly if he wanted to, but I trust him. I trust him with my life every time we go out on patrol, how could I do any less now?

As my mind rambles and wanders, his hands are moving over the uniform, undoing the catches in the proper order so as to disarm the electro-shock booby traps. Even drugged, he has the presence of mind to avoid the nasty jolt that would result from a careless attempt at undressing him. Me? My presence of mind is shot to hell.

He's removed the cape and now his teeth are working my neck in sweetly painful torture. All I can do is lay there, my toes barely touching the floor, and moan. I let him move me, shift me this way and that as he works the body armor off. The hand moves, but it continues to pin me and the strength in it is frightening.

I feel the damp, cold air of the cave on the exposed skin of my ass and thighs. Gauntlet covered fingers are kneading my backside and a small moan escapes me. It's a good sound, I know it is, one that gives voice to all the want I've bottled up for so very long. When he moves to start sliding his torrid length against the cleft of my ass, I get the feeling that he liked the sound as well. So I don't hold back. I'm not a screamer, but I pant and moan, letting him hear what he's doing to me.

Bruce is dry humping me and it's driving me nuts. Without conscious thought I begin trying to move my pinned body so as to get some kind of friction for my own hard on. Yes, I'm very hard. I doubt he knows it, but this hitting a number of my secret fantasies. Wait, this is Bruce. He probably does know, being the world's greatest detective and all.

I feel more then hear his growl and it's the only warning I get before he bites down hard on my neck, just this side of breaking the skin. I do scream, though it's as much startled pleasure as pain. Of course Bruce would mix the two, that is perfectly in keeping with his personality. Again, I'm not complaining. But I do get the message: don't move.

Sadistic jack-ass!

I go still again but it's a real effort to control myself as he continues to move. I couldn't stop the litany of wanting moans even if I wanted too. I just…thought has become a foreign concept as my world narrows to raw sensation. Finally, I feel warmth shoot into my back, Batman silently reaching climax while leaving me wanting. Damn him!

He's going to be the death of me yet.

I barely have time to think about saying something, begging for something I can't name when the armored fingers are moving through the warm semen on my back, scoping and dragging it lower. The thick digits travelled the length of my ass, working the copious substance against the tightness of my hole. I discover the true horror of being teased. Just when I think he might push a finger in, he pulls back and resumes his maddening touches. I only barely hear my own voice as I beg for him to be inside me. I'm vaguely aware of making promises to behave, to be good, to do anything he wants if only…if only…I doubt I'm making much sense by this point but I also doubt it matters to either of us.

"Shhhhhh," comes the wordless command. It's the first time he's said anything at all to me and the sound makes my entire body convulse in anticipation. Dear god! If he does that again I swear I'll come.

A gloved hand reaches around to grasp my hard-on, the texture of the material hard and unyielding. That's probably my only saving grace. I'm so painfully hard, that if it had been flesh touching me I would have been done for then and there. As it is, the gauntlet provides a harsh stimulus that serves to heighten my delirium, but also doesn't quite allow me to approach the edge. It is a very effective distraction, which is as he no doubt meant it to be.

The action in front has me desperate and wanting, so when a one armored finger slips in, there is only a little resistance. The digit reaches in so very deep and sends me gasping, my hips pumping helplessly between the two mind-blowing sensations. I think I'm begging again, though I couldn't tell you for what. All I know is that I want this to go on forever and yet am frantic to reach completion.

It doesn't look like Bruce has any intention of letting me come any time soon. He maddeningly seems to know the exact moment to back off so that I'm left hanging on the edge of not-quite-orgasm. I swear, he's deliberately melting my few remaining brain cells. And how is it he has this much control? Shouldn't he be fucking me into the ground by now?

It's Bruce. That seems to be the answer for everything with him.

A second finger joins the first and I wince. It's too much and I'm too dry. For the first time I actually start to panic, though I try very hard to remain still. Even as my terrified mind begins to run around in circles the fingers are removed as well as the hand that had been stroking me in front. He shifts and his forearm is across me back, holding me down. I have a moment to wonder what the hell he's doing back there. It occurs to me that maybe I should risk making a break for it.

Then the fingers are back and I think I've swallowed my tongue. Too much! My world narrows down to simply breathing as fire consumed me.

This time the fingers don't stop, but there also isn't the same amount of resistance. The initial shock is slow to wear off, but I can feel the difference this time. He's found some kind of lube somewhere. He scissors his fingers inside of me, stretching me out, searching. I don't have to guess what for when he hit's the prostate.

This time I know I'm begging. I can feel his smile against the back of my neck. My body is moving frantically trying to force him deeper into me. He doesn't appear inclined to stop me.

Then the fingers are gone and I'm keening at their loss as I lay heavily on the console.

Smack! A gauntlet covered hand lands heavily on my ass, making me yelp and jump. My abused fleshed stings something fierce, but at the same time I try to go a little higher on my tippy-toes, presenting myself for him.

"Again," I manage to grind out when nothing more happened.

Smack! Harder, and off to the side. It moves me, which in turn moves my penis within his grasp and…oh god. I'm going to…! And he knows it as well. The hand on my impossibly ridged length disappears even as a third smack falls. Then a fourth, a fifth. I'm not going to be able to sit down for a week and I really don't care. I'm pleading for more…of anything. Everything. Whatever he'll give me because it's all perfectly incredible and I'm not thinking any more.

He's not pinning me now so I arch my back, as my mouth falls open in something between a pant and moan. I push my neglected length against the edge of the console and get a hard, stinging swat for my trouble. Furious, I turn to glare over my shoulder only to have my jaw nearly hit the floor. The cowl is off and I can see the naked lust in Bruce's handsome, yet scary face. He looks like he wants to devour me.

"Please," I desperately beseech him. Since when did I beg so much? Is that something I should worry about? Not now, stupid brain.

I feel my ass cheeks being spread as he speaks into my ear. "Yes." The word is guttural and possessive in some freaky way that sets my every nerve aflame. Then the swollen mushroom head of Bruce's erection is nudging my entrance and I can fairly feel him vibrating in the effort not to just plow into me.

Now, I should point out that when I'm with Dick, I'm often the bottom by choice. The acrobat has a very, very nice and impressive penis. But this is Bruce and as with everything he's just so much…more. I bite my lower lip hard as he works to get the tip into my still so tight hole. He's going to split me open!

I don't care!

Then he's in, but stretching me so unforgivingly and I try hard to relearn how to breathe. I'm not going to pass out. I'm not. It's okay. Now.

The armored hand is back around front, stroking me. Belatedly I realize that I've partly deflated. Oh no, oh no! It hurts but it doesn't hurt that bad. I'll live, I'll deal. Just don't stop Bruce. Please don't stop!

He doesn't stop. The hand works me, bringing me back to life and he's holding so very still within me. So meticulous and careful. So Bruce.

When he starts to move, it's the barest twitch of the hips, pushing in just a little more. Mewling, I perform an odd shimmy, as though my body can't decide if it wants to flee or greedily accept the invasion. Of course, it's not my choice to make.

Every nerve is aflame as he pushes in oh so carefully, twisting and moving, constantly changing the angle of penetration and making it impossible to predict just what was going to happen.

Then he's all the way in to the goddamn root and I can't hear anything beyond my own laboured gasps. His hands are on me. His actual hands, no gloves. When had he removed those? It's inconsequential. All I know is that he's touching me, within and without, caressing and making my body sing. It's indescribable and will surely kill me. No one can live through this kind of visceral beauty.

A sharp pain, he bites the shell of my ear and then another kind of pain as he begins to move within me, pumping, slowly at first, then beginning to pick up a rhythm. I think it would be maddening if I could manage a cohesive thought, but right now that's way beyond the realm of possibility. All I know is that's he's pulling out and I don't want him to. Pleading, though I'm not sure if actual words are involved, I try to tell him how I don't want this to end.

He slams back in and I scream. I'm going to black out. No! Can't do that, not when I'm so hard, when he's touching me. Not when his hips start snapping back and forth, savagely claiming me, over and over. Oh please!

I'm going to come. Nothing can stop it this time. Bruce makes no effort to intercede, too focused on his own pleasure. Wild, he's losing himself, I think. I hope so. He needs this. We both do and it's a massive turn on that I can give it to him. More then a turn on.

A harsh sound rips from my throat as my orgasm hits. Everything dims and yet, and yet. I hold on. I'm not going to lose a moment of this, I promise myself. And Bruce. He's going to need my report.

Later, worry about it later. Stop analyzing and just feel it. Ride it.

The aftershocks rack my body and cause my ass to contract around Bruce. I hear something akin to a sigh as I feel his seed flowing into me, scalding me in the best possible way. Laying there my only thought is: now I can die happy, spent and utterly debauched as I am. I don't think I could move if my life depended on it.

I vaguely realize that Bruce is pulling out of me. That's fine, I just want to lay here a little longer.

Large hands are pulling me up to my feet, turning me and lifting me to sit on the console. I blink owlishly, trying to understand the nebulous sensory input. Bruce is before me, between my legs now. No, he's bending my legs upwards and back. I'm not really in a position to argue, on so many levels and it's even reasonably comfortable when my calves rest on his chest. Then I feel a familiar nudge against my abused rectum.

No way. He can't possibly still be hard!

"Robin," he whispers, his expression one of hungry, all consuming need as he pushes his way back in. And I'm lost, floating. I'm going to give him everything I have and more. I smile and nod, then it is all lost to the gasps that seem to be the sum total of my vocabulary.

It's going to be a very long night.

~End~

Authors Note: The next one will be the same events from Bruce's POV. I hope you enjoyed this. Comments and feedback always welcome.