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shankieFollow-up to A Simple Misunderstanding and A Bribe For Catwoman.
Because the story refuses to die.
For those of you that read drafts and have been waiting for-frickin'-ever for this to actually have something resembling a conclusion, I'm sorry about that. I can only hope it's worth the wait.
Ticklish
Batman/Flash, Bruce Wayne/Vicki Vale/Wally West
NC-17; bondage & BDSM themes, voyeurism, identity porn
5K+ words
The same night of the fun with Selina Kyle, Wally meets another woman in Batman's life... and meets someone else for the first time; Bruce Wayne. He also learns just how threatening a feather can be.
"Where are we?" Wally asked, but it was more of a question to himself, as if the world had suddenly become clear to him. In a way, it had; he’d been half-asleep. He didn't really expect an answer from the suddenly-silent Batman carrying him over his shoulder. It sounded like the inside of a parking garage, that sort of heavy echoing of suddenly-loud boots. He didn't think the Bat-shoes ever made noise, but the footsteps skittering around the room said different. Selective noise.
It was a good thing. Wally was not only tossed over the Bat's shoulder, but he was blindfolded. Not tied up, but still a little too tired to be motivated into a whole lot. The ride over, stretched out in the trunk of the Batmobile, to wherever they were, had been a nice rest, but he'd need food and a good night's sleep to even run very far. Definitely not all the way home.
Maybe they were in the Cave. It had a bedroom that was actually pretty nice, even if it smelled like cave. He wouldn't mind sleeping there again, because the Bat could magic up the best breakfast east of Vermont in the maple syrup season.
Wally lifted his head up at the sudden intrusion of an elevator 'Ding!' and the sound of rumbling doors. It made him think maybe they were in a hotel, but he was still naked and that was still a leathery cape he was on. Batman moved easily, he could feel it, with one arm pressing little pointy bits on the gauntlet into his leg, but not enough to hurt. He might be able to get away with a lot, but Batman would raise a few eyebrows carrying a naked guy around in public. Wally reached out with his dangling arms and grabbed two fistfuls of the cape.
The jolt of going upwards felt worse than it usually did, jarring and a sensation of traveling upwards a lot faster than elevators usually went. He felt blood rushing to his head in a moment of disorientation, then reached back and felt a metal handrail to get it back. Then the car slowed to what felt like an abrupt stop and there was that cheerful 'Ding!' again.
The doors opened to the smell of flowers and the footsteps sounded like walking over carpet.
"Seriously, where are we?"
Wally was just put back on his feet, standing with his back against what felt like a metal pole. It was a little cold, smooth and almost soft, the way brushed stainless steel felt, and he was sure that was what it was after grabbing onto it.
Batman still didn't say anything, but began noisily strapping Wally down to the thing. It sounded like really loud Velcro on straps that went across his chest, waist, thighs, and ankles. Whatever it was, it was sturdy enough that he could sort of let it do the standing for him.
Should have known better than to think it was bedtime yet. Wally must have smiled or something, because the Bat-glove was touching his mouth quickly, like a stolen gesture. Wally's arms were still free, so he reached out with them, only to have his wrists caught with one hand. Affection time would be later, apparently. As much as there was, precious little, but better for it.
Wally's head was gently pushed down, with something else cold and metal coming around it, and when his head was pushed back up it came around all the way around his neck and his wrists, something solid holding them together. There was a 'Click' and a feeling of the whole thing securing itself as the lock was closed.
The blindfold came off to the sight of his hands upright in front of his face, wrists together. There was some overhead light around the top of what was definitely a stripper pole, that he was definitely tied down to. What the room looked like he couldn't see, just dark carpeting that faded quickly to black.
Batman circled around in front of him, smiling a little. Not really a good sign. Wally raised an eyebrow at what appeared to be the key to what he was locked in being pressed into his right hand.
Then he just left, walking off into the shadows. If he was still there, hiding or something, Wally couldn't tell. Wally tried, but that never worked. The Bat only let him know he was there if he wanted to be seen or heard.
He squeezed the key and shook his head; was this a test? Velcro? Was he serious? Wally shrugged, waited for not very long, then decided to try and escape. He took the key and readied it in his fingers before noticing he couldn't see a lock. Not on the top, not on the sides. It wouldn't rotate enough to see underneath, so he imagined it was there.
The Velcro had to go, first. The straps were wide, enough so they didn't hurt too badly to force himself against, trying to pull it open. He heard the ripping sound, but just a little. After only a little work he stopped and went loose again. The effort required a little rest, then another try, even after the straps did start to hurt and left little red chafing marks. They gave him pause to reconsider the plan, but only briefly.
However long it took to finally pull himself loose, it felt like hours and he couldn't get the last one, around his ankles, to come free. His legs were too worn out, and now he was standing in a precarious position he needed to get down from.
It took a little care, sliding and half-falling. Getting down to his knees didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would, so here he stopped, finally taking a breath.
Just like that sadistic bastard to make it look easy. Somehow Wally still had the key, but he couldn't get his knees up high enough to try his luck from underneath. There really wasn't a thing he could do but wait.
What had to be another eternity passed. There's no city sound, no lights, so he wondered where he was again. What had a cheerful elevator outside the city? Or maybe this was some sort of windowless inner room, there being a pole on a stage, after all. Just a little stage, he didn't think he was in some sort of club, but he could be wrong.
When the lights came on, he was surprised to find himself in a tastefully appointed bedroom fit for a king. Or someone rich enough to be a king; rich enough that he was fairly certain the gold lamp nearby was actually gold. The pole was by itself in one corner, opposite what appeared to be a hot tub through an open door. Windows were everywhere, floor to ceiling, but most of the walls were black curtained. There was a big briefcase on the gigantic dark blue bed, carefully arranged with silk pillows.
And there was a man standing in the doorway, looking as if he'd just come back from a long night of partying in a tux. He knew who it was, with the undone black tie and the rolled-up sleeves. Bruce Wayne.
"I know who you are," Wally said. "You look like someone."
"Someone famous?" the decidedly un-Batman-like voice mockingly replied. "I am someone famous."
Now Wally wasn't sure.
"Batman," he said, anyway. "I always thought you looked like Batman."
Bruce Wayne laughed in a very, very decidedly un-Batman-like way. "I've never heard that one before," he chuckled. "What does Batman look like, anyway? Isn't that his thing, never to be seen?"
"I've seen him." It might be him. Blue eyes, black hair, but the mouth looked all different; and Wally hadn't seen Batman's face for almost a year. Not since the first time, he liked to keep the mask on. Wally had been pretty much fine with that so far. Now he wasn't sure about that, either. "He looks like you."
"I think you may be wrong about that. Either way, you're tied up in my bedroom." Bruce shrugged as if this took away all his control over the situation, but was still smiling like he thought it was funny. "Now, why is that?"
"Is it your birthday?" Either way, Bruce Wayne was gorgeous like Batman was scary. The sort of guy that everyone was pretty much ready and willing to sleep with, and apparently did. Wally started to wonder if he might be more gay than he thought he was. He'd have to ask his girlfriend.
"We can pretend it is," Bruce decided. "But I'm not asking the stripper to go home. Do you need help with that?" he teased.
The stripper took that moment to come in. Tall, leggy, with long red hair and a leather mask completing a fetish costume with boots up to the thigh.
Oh.
She prowled over the carpet to give Wally a close view of her breasts, as they threatened to spill out of the lace-up top while she easily unstrapped the last daunting piece of material. He handed her the key, but Bruce made a clucking sound.
"I'll do that in a minute," he told her, so she just sort of helped him off to the side, cleared her stage, and started dancing while Bruce put on some music. Some kind of moody industrial that one would expect to go with that kind of outfit.
She laughed and pinched Wally’s cheek before getting up. “He’s cute,” she declared. She wasn’t so bad herself, with an elegant beauty that hardly seemed to be the sort to be a stripper... at least, not one he’d ever afford to watch. And she looked... a bit familiar, as if he’d seen her face somewhere before.
Bruce opened up the briefcase.
“That’s not quite the word I was thinking,” he replied.
Out came a ceiling-high frame that braced on four legs and he seemed to just pop out like an umbrella. But he tested the legs and they appeared rock-steady. The swinging bar along the top pretty much gave away its function with a pair of cuffs on either side.
The girl's curves gyrated against the pole. But Wally was the naked one, which had him feeling more than a little at a disadvantage. He couldn’t hide how he reacted, watching her treat the stationary metal like a lover.
"Give me a hand," Bruce lightly asked, and she helped him pick Wally up and carry him over to the frame, holding him steady while Bruce locked one of his ankles to the bar.
"Listen... I don't know..." Wally felt a sudden wave of panic, because really, he wasn't sure if he knew this guy at all.
Bruce was strong. He held firm and still locked the other leg up.
The girl let go and left Wally dangling upside-down while she dimmed the lights, all but those over the little stage, but Bruce didn't go anywhere right away. He bent down and kissed Wally reassuringly, slow and tender like it'd make everything alright.
"I'm not sure," Wally confessed.
"I'll let you down, if you'd like," Bruce told him. "There's another suite with food and a hot shower, you can go stay the night and I'll leave you alone. Just tell me now."
"What if I just wanted to watch?"
Bruce chuckled wickedly. "No. I don’t think so." He went back into the magic briefcase and pulled out cuffs that he attached to the poles in front of Wally's face far enough that he would have to bend forward to reach them.
Wally still had the key; he handed it over.
"I'll stay." The second time tonight he'd agreed to something like this. Something in him blew up a second wind.
"I thought you would."
The collar-thing came off and his arms felt good to be stretched out with his wrists in the cuffs. He tested the frame himself, but even putting effort into it wouldn't shake the rods.
"This is some contraption," Wally said.
"Vicki," Bruce said to the girl, who got back off the stage.
Bruce poured himself what appeared to be champagne while Wally had that disorienting feeling from blood rushing to his head, again. It passed.
He saw Bruce settling down to watch and Vicki coming for him with a blindfold and a gag, and that was it. He was back to hearing his surroundings, the music and footsteps on the rug. Vicki gagged him tight enough to make him worry a little, especially since it was the rather secure over-the-face sort, but that was apparently why Bruce had made the offer limited time only. Wally was strapped in and ready to ride this roller-coaster and there was no going back. He braced for the worst.
The first thing that touched him made him jump back, and he heard them both laughing. It touched him again; nothing more than a feather across his chest.
Oh. Well, that was nothing.
It moved up and down, teasing over his groin a little, then between his thighs... where it tickled. He squirmed and laughed into the gag, which came out sounding like nothing more than muffled noise. They kept laughing, and she kept tickling, until Wally's chest began to burn and his sides cramped, but he couldn't stop wiggling and convulsing.
The feather seemed to find every ticklish part of him, lingering over the soles of his feet, long after Wally had tears in his eyes and wanted to start screaming his head off. He tried, but the noise didn't sound any different than the laughing.
He couldn't breathe, everything hurt, and the feather turned into pure torture.
When it stopped, he sagged and felt like there wasn't an ounce of strength left in him.
She let him catch his breath, then tickled his toes and made him jump and squeal. It was knee-jerk, every time she did it, just a touch here or there.
Then she stopped long enough for him to think it was over, before starting in again over his armpits, up his sides, and the burning came back right away, still fighting as hard as ever if he wanted to or not.
The noises he was making turned unmistakably desperate and screetchy, but he couldn't stop that, either. It was hard to think about anything but the delicate searing dancing over his skin. His throat started to burn, too. He was jerking and kicking frantically long before she let him rest again.
Wally listened to his own breathing and the creek of what's-her-name's boots, but there wasn't any more laughing. It was a thick kind of silence around him. He could almost taste them watching him. The feeling of being watched was something he'd never get used to, never stop being surprised about.
He was so turned on.
That thought vanished with everything else when the feather attacked again.
The pain would never stop, it would never be over, this was Hell and there was no way out. The frame held, he was nowhere near strong enough to vibrate out, and he didn't really want to, somewhere under desperation.
One way or another, Batman was watching him. If Wally gave up, he would stop.
"Give him a break," Bruce said.
Then there were two pairs of footsteps around him.
“Are you tired?” Bruce asked him.
Somewhere, Wally found the energy to nod his head with a little urgency.
“I’m sure there’s other things we can do with you,” Bruce said thoughtfully.
Wally felt dizzy with relief.
“Later.”
Two pairs of hands began wiggling all over him, they were laughing again as Wally thrashed and screeched with outrage and agony.
“You would think we were beating him,” Vicki teased.
Bruce thought it was funny and started on one of Wally’s feet.
His chest was on fire and he saw spots in front of his eyes; when he could hear the cuffs rattling against the rods over his voice, the hands pulled away. He whined like a reflex, when he had enough air to do it, long and loud, feebly rattling his bonds.
“See, he feels lonely already.”
Vicki came back with the feather.
He was losing his mind.
Wally felt like passing out when she did, and left him there for the moment. He caught his breath and almost immediately, it was as if nothing had happened. Just left even more worn out.
For a little while, he didn't know what was going on around him at all.
Not until she came back. Again.
This time, she used her fingers, again. It wasn't any better, being squeezed against her body while she worked him over in two different spots. Words like searing agony and eternal pain flashed through his mind.
He was so never going to take tickling lightly again.
"You should give him a treat," Bruce said.
She laughed and stopped, her fingers wrapping around his dick. Wally twitched just a little, but she stroked it as if to calm him down, gently waiting for him to relax. When he did, she began sucking.
Wally curled his toes and grabbed a hold of the rods his wrists were attached to, squeezing tight and soaking it up. Everything felt acute and unreal, too real, but good.
"I think he likes it," Bruce chuckled, and Vicki paused to giggle. Wally was together enough to feel embarrassed, but he didn't stop enjoying it.
He loved it, Batman knew he loved it, but his head was swimming with how fast the game had advanced to the next level. A level Wally hadn't realized existed, but here he was, being passed around Gotham like a Bat-party favor.
She didn't let him come. She stopped, then began tickling again, laughing merrily this time. "You poor thing," she taunted.
Wally's voice was starting to go entirely by the time she stopped and began the more pleasant contact of sucking again. He felt even more upside-down and backwards, but she didn't let up.
Her fingers kept going back to wiggling over his ribs and making him insane to get away, and completely limp-except for his cock-while she blew him.
He forgot who was doing it or where he was until after he came like a freight train and was left alone to enjoy it. Just hang there for a little while and put all the pressure on his ankles. His abdomen was tingling with this strange version of afterglow.
For a little while, he must have actually passed out, because he became aware fuzzily around being let down.
The smell of flowers had been vases spilling full of them all over the place. They jumped out all of a sudden, colourful bouquets on nearly every available surface. Huge red roses were mixed with a spray of delicate white blooms on the night stand. It felt downright romantic in here, which was a vivid contrast to the previous bondage-dungeon atmosphere.
Wally was more or less deposited on the bed. He laid there and got his head back together, then summoned the will to turn look..
Vicki was sitting over Bruce’s lap, smiling as they casually drank champagne. She noticed Wally’s movement and laughed some more. “Do you think he can dance?”
“Not as well as you, I’d imagine.”
Indignant anger flared up in Wally’s chest. Bruce had compared him to her. Who was she, anyway?
“I don’t think he’s up to it,” Vicky said, regretfully.
Wally frowned. “I’m right here, you know,” he croaked. It was only a little better than a whisper; his voice was wrecked.
“We certainly know,” Bruce told him, innuendo hanging off his words. “Get back on the pole.”
Just getting up at all felt a million miles away. The longest not-even-a-couple-yards he’d ever seen. Somehow, Wally hauled himself off the bed and didn’t fall down on the trip across the floor. They just watched him, like watching even that was entertaining. He fell against the pole and held onto it for dear life.
He took a few deep breaths and considered not doing it. The music was still playing, from invisible speakers all around the room. Something grim but catchy.
Wally held on to the pole, but began moving around it. He didn’t feel graceful, but he had Bruce’s complete attention.
“I told you this was a good idea,” Vicki said, flipping her coppery hair over Bruce’s shoulder, and he just nodded.
He turned around and faced the wall, running his ass down the metal, a few times, slowly. Like painful inches, he moved, making most of it up as he went along. He’d seen this before, enough to guess and feel brave enough to hang onto the pole and lift his legs up over his head, clinging around it.
His thighs were quivering-tired as he hung on with them, reaching his hands down toward the floor. There was a little applause and he was surprised not to fall on his head.
“He seems to like being upside-down,” Bruce commented.
Wally flipped back down and got his balance again, up on the balls of his feet. He tried gyrating against the pole, which was difficult to do with an erection, at first. He got the hang of it.
“I need to get my camera. Make him photogenic, it shouldn’t be hard,” Vicki announced, and left the room.
Bruce went back to the magic briefcase and pulled out a handful of red something. The exact same shade as the Flash costume. A clue.
“Are you sure yet?” he asked.
“Not really,” Wally rasped, still holding on.
The red bundle was tossed down beside him on the floor, so Wally bent down to put it on, only to have his wrists snatched and pushed back around the pole.
“I’ll take care of that,” Bruce informed him, cuffing Wally to the pole on a long chain. Dainty gold manacles.
Wally stood up and closed his eyes, letting Bruce dress him in leather. Feeling his hands and the way he moved, trying to determine, once and for all, if he’d been with him forever or never met him before. Bruce must have known he was doing it, because it changed to the methodical, carefully forceful way Batman did everything. He smiled.
Now he was sure.
Itty-bitty leather shorts laced snugly up, matching the red boots he’d been wearing before. They were here now, put back on over knee-high black fishnets rolled over his legs, one at a time, with the upmost care. He looked down at gold eyelets on the shorts and remembered the collar just before seeing that again, too. Bruce tilted his head up to put it on.
Bruce Wayne was Batman. Something not revealed between them, for all this time, and now it was. This next level was not just what the Bat wanted to do with him... he did everything with purpose and reason, Wally did know that well, but all of the reason for it happening now, like this, he didn’t have figured out.
And there was something else.
“Who is she?” Wally asked quietly, as the collar was buckled closed.
“My girlfriend,” was the simple reply.
Oh.
Wally had never quite considered exactly he was... and now he couldn’t help it.
“Look at me.”
They locked eyes, holding a steady gaze that gave Wally nothing as he was given a little eyeliner to go with the mascara he was still wearing. Not a usual addition, but he was used to it, now.
Finally, Wally gathered his balls together and opened his mouth to say something, but Vicki picked that moment to come back, wielding a camera and a tripod.
“Perfect,” she declared, reminding Wally of the frame as she set up her equipment with familiar ease and began adjusting it, looking through the lens at him. “Get out of the way, Bruce. And you, start moving again.”
Wally took a deep breath and let the chain fall against the pole with a tinkling sound, his fingers brushing the surface. Not moving just yet, so much as just trying to gain his composure and just look sexy and right. “I’m sweaty,” he half-heartedly pointed out.
“It looks good. Bruce, kill the lamps and turn up the overhead,” she ordered. Her lips pinched in focus as he did just that and she ducked back behind the camera, one hand gesturing at Wally in a circular motion. “Get going.”
Her long-nailed finger began pushing a little silver button on top, and Wally stopped looking at her. He looked at Bruce, rumpled and exquisite, lurking near the shadows without vanishing into them. Not this time.
Tired, unsure, but still straining in the little shorts, Wally began to dance again. Slowly, occasionally stopping or slowing when Vicki ordered him to, a turn, a different look, a different pose.
The direction stopped after a time, but the camera kept snapping away and the music kept playing, everything else as if it were suspended in place, the room itself holding it’s breath to watch. Then Wally did feel sexy, really sexy, a feeling he loved. The center of attention... for just a little while, the center of the universe. Lusted after.
If he could have, he might have kept going until dawn. For a time, it was as if he could, but exhaustion refused to be ignored forever. His muscles were long past trembling in desperate protest, and even the slow, swaying movements became another kind of agony.
All at once, he gave in, and collapsed around the bottom of the pole. The pictures kept snapping as he slumped down against it, breathing heavily.
“Perfect,” Vicki whispered, stepping back from the camera.
She turned to Bruce and found his askew shirt collar, pulling on it with her fingers as she looked up into his face.
“Let him watch,” she murmured, the words dripping off her scarlet lips.
“He has been a good boy,” Bruce admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Oh yes. Have you?”
“I like to think so.”
She drew him down with her grip, for a forceful kiss every bit taken as given. Their contact didn’t break as Vicki dragged Bruce backwards to the bed, her feet weaving carefully until she just tossed herself back onto the covers, bouncing once playfully.
Bruce crawled over her, all tenderness and love, touching with reverence. As if making love to a goddess he was hardly worthy of undressing, as he still did so. One button, one snap, one movement of laces at a time, caressing her skin and kissing along his work.
So different from any way he’d touched Wally before. He’d never considered he might want him to, but he did now. Jealousy replaced confusion; he wasn’t the center of attention anymore.
The feeling of abandonment was one he tried to push away in vain, forced him to close his eyes and try not to listen to their sighs and moans. He didn’t look, until he did again.
Bruce was taking her from behind, her breast cupped in his hand, up on their knees and moving together. And Bruce was looking back at him, like a reversal of what most of their relationship had always been. Without cameras, in reverse. Not forgotten or pushed out, Wally felt the jealousy leave just as quickly as it had come, even if there was that twinge of longing to be the one touched like that. Bruce squeezed her hip and Wally could almost feel it, himself. Wally wasn’t watching, but keeping that meaningful eye contact, like a tether putting him there with them, pulling him into their lovemaking.
It was one of the most surreal experiences he could remember, so closely inside and outside of himself all at once, not realizing right away how he was squirming, rubbing his cock against the inside of the tight little shorts.
He came right after she did, just before Bruce. He couldn’t be sure that might have pushed Bruce over the edge, hurried him along, but something in his darkened eyes told him it did.
Strange and right to see Bruce the giver, putting pleasure so firmly before his own. This was and was not Batman; in the complete, radiant afterglow, Wally considered that this might be what the Bat wanted him to see, to learn.
Wally gave into his exhaustion, finally, and laid himself down where he was to fall asleep, come, makeup, and all.
The next day, he woke with fuzzy memories of being helped out of his clothes and all that, and into a bed.
Cracks of sunshine were peeking around moss green drapes that matched the covers over him, a soft and amazingly comfortable bed he had all to himself. Wiggling his toes and squeakily groaning in content, he snuggled down into the warmth of it a little while longer, enjoying a moment of care-free content. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would find outside the door.
A deep green silk robe was laid out for him in a chair, which he put on once managing to find his way out of bed. He was fairly certain it was meant for a woman, short and clinging to everything in a way that left little to the imagination. Apparently the kind of thing Bruce Wayne wanted his plaything to wear.
Plaything. That was and was not what he was, he decided, but as close as anything. A word Batman had used quite a few times, the most consistently.
Wally checked himself out in the mirror, admiring the way his muscles were visible under the thin fabric, then he ventured out to find out what was going to happen next.
A tidy, somber butler with sharp eyes appeared as soon as Wally stepped out the door, deferentially gesturing to a set of open double-doors.
“Breakfast is served,” he announced. “Master Bruce will join you shortly.”
“Thanks,” Wally mumbled, bemused.
He discovered a veritable plethora of pancakes there, syrup in a glass thing, covered trays that smelled like bacon and sausages, and hot coffee steaming in a delicate white cup beside an empty plate the butler indicated. Outside the open windows, the city was awake and alive in a bright day, as cheery as Gotham ever could be.
“No need to wait, he shan’t be long,” the butler informed him, before leaving quietly.
The pancakes were thick and fluffy, perfect. Just like they always were when he woke up in the cave. Had to be the same work, he decided, crunching on perfectly crispy strips of bacon. It was hard to decided what he wanted to eat more, more or less going with both at once, between sips of perfectly sweetened coffee, just the way he liked it.
A good deal of the food was gone by the time Bruce came in, a copy of The New York Times under his arm. He looked every inch like he did on television, crisply attired in a pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back and shiny shoes sounding on the wood floor.
“Good morning,” Bruce said, almost smiling as he sat down to his own cup of coffee, pushing the plate aside. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like the dead. Is Vicki..?”
“Left early. She’s going to be rather busy for the next few days.”
“Ah.”
Wally shoveled in a heaping forkful of pancake, taking a bit longer to chew that particular bite. Not sure what to say in a silence that began to last too long.
He wondered if he was in love with Bruce, or if it was just the Bat. Now, here, there was a lot of him present.
“She doesn’t know,” Bruce broke in. “She can’t, for both our sakes. Not yet.”
“And I can?”
“I honestly wasn’t certain if you already knew or not. Or merely suspected.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“We have never really discussed our relationship. I believe now would be the time, if you have anything to say.”
Wally sat back in the chair, a bit surprised. He considered that, carefully. Was he happy with the way things were? Did he want things to change? There was that feeling, that moment of wanting, so bad, to have Bruce make love to him instead of games and chains and fucking. But he didn’t want to say it, and the Bat had seen it. He saw everything, and knew.
Last night, he’d had his doubts about the whole thing, but... strange, distant as it was so often, this thing with Batman was the most stable relationship Wally had ever had. Sometimes, it felt like the longest and most satisfying... and there was Connie, waiting back at home when it wasn’t.
Beyond that... the Bat’s world appeared to be more twisted and complicated than he’d realized. Did he want more of that? His own life was complicated enough. He wasn't ready to make it worse.
It was good. He was happy, having his cake and eating it, too.
“No. Not really. I’m good, if you are.”
“Good. Are you done eating?”
“I think so.”
“Then get under the table and suck my cock,” Bruce said, without his voice changing, without missing a beat. He turned his attention to snapping his paper open and reading through the front page.
Little Wally stood up at attention, rather enthusiastic. Grinning, Wally was feeling pretty good, too. He crawled down on the floor, careful not to bump his head, and did as he was told.
For now, he was definitely fine with the way things were. The way things may be headed, given time.
As long as there wasn’t any tickling involved; he’d had enough of that for now.
Because the story refuses to die.
For those of you that read drafts and have been waiting for-frickin'-ever for this to actually have something resembling a conclusion, I'm sorry about that. I can only hope it's worth the wait.
Ticklish
Batman/Flash, Bruce Wayne/Vicki Vale/Wally West
NC-17; bondage & BDSM themes, voyeurism, identity porn
5K+ words
The same night of the fun with Selina Kyle, Wally meets another woman in Batman's life... and meets someone else for the first time; Bruce Wayne. He also learns just how threatening a feather can be.
"Where are we?" Wally asked, but it was more of a question to himself, as if the world had suddenly become clear to him. In a way, it had; he’d been half-asleep. He didn't really expect an answer from the suddenly-silent Batman carrying him over his shoulder. It sounded like the inside of a parking garage, that sort of heavy echoing of suddenly-loud boots. He didn't think the Bat-shoes ever made noise, but the footsteps skittering around the room said different. Selective noise.
It was a good thing. Wally was not only tossed over the Bat's shoulder, but he was blindfolded. Not tied up, but still a little too tired to be motivated into a whole lot. The ride over, stretched out in the trunk of the Batmobile, to wherever they were, had been a nice rest, but he'd need food and a good night's sleep to even run very far. Definitely not all the way home.
Maybe they were in the Cave. It had a bedroom that was actually pretty nice, even if it smelled like cave. He wouldn't mind sleeping there again, because the Bat could magic up the best breakfast east of Vermont in the maple syrup season.
Wally lifted his head up at the sudden intrusion of an elevator 'Ding!' and the sound of rumbling doors. It made him think maybe they were in a hotel, but he was still naked and that was still a leathery cape he was on. Batman moved easily, he could feel it, with one arm pressing little pointy bits on the gauntlet into his leg, but not enough to hurt. He might be able to get away with a lot, but Batman would raise a few eyebrows carrying a naked guy around in public. Wally reached out with his dangling arms and grabbed two fistfuls of the cape.
The jolt of going upwards felt worse than it usually did, jarring and a sensation of traveling upwards a lot faster than elevators usually went. He felt blood rushing to his head in a moment of disorientation, then reached back and felt a metal handrail to get it back. Then the car slowed to what felt like an abrupt stop and there was that cheerful 'Ding!' again.
The doors opened to the smell of flowers and the footsteps sounded like walking over carpet.
"Seriously, where are we?"
Wally was just put back on his feet, standing with his back against what felt like a metal pole. It was a little cold, smooth and almost soft, the way brushed stainless steel felt, and he was sure that was what it was after grabbing onto it.
Batman still didn't say anything, but began noisily strapping Wally down to the thing. It sounded like really loud Velcro on straps that went across his chest, waist, thighs, and ankles. Whatever it was, it was sturdy enough that he could sort of let it do the standing for him.
Should have known better than to think it was bedtime yet. Wally must have smiled or something, because the Bat-glove was touching his mouth quickly, like a stolen gesture. Wally's arms were still free, so he reached out with them, only to have his wrists caught with one hand. Affection time would be later, apparently. As much as there was, precious little, but better for it.
Wally's head was gently pushed down, with something else cold and metal coming around it, and when his head was pushed back up it came around all the way around his neck and his wrists, something solid holding them together. There was a 'Click' and a feeling of the whole thing securing itself as the lock was closed.
The blindfold came off to the sight of his hands upright in front of his face, wrists together. There was some overhead light around the top of what was definitely a stripper pole, that he was definitely tied down to. What the room looked like he couldn't see, just dark carpeting that faded quickly to black.
Batman circled around in front of him, smiling a little. Not really a good sign. Wally raised an eyebrow at what appeared to be the key to what he was locked in being pressed into his right hand.
Then he just left, walking off into the shadows. If he was still there, hiding or something, Wally couldn't tell. Wally tried, but that never worked. The Bat only let him know he was there if he wanted to be seen or heard.
He squeezed the key and shook his head; was this a test? Velcro? Was he serious? Wally shrugged, waited for not very long, then decided to try and escape. He took the key and readied it in his fingers before noticing he couldn't see a lock. Not on the top, not on the sides. It wouldn't rotate enough to see underneath, so he imagined it was there.
The Velcro had to go, first. The straps were wide, enough so they didn't hurt too badly to force himself against, trying to pull it open. He heard the ripping sound, but just a little. After only a little work he stopped and went loose again. The effort required a little rest, then another try, even after the straps did start to hurt and left little red chafing marks. They gave him pause to reconsider the plan, but only briefly.
However long it took to finally pull himself loose, it felt like hours and he couldn't get the last one, around his ankles, to come free. His legs were too worn out, and now he was standing in a precarious position he needed to get down from.
It took a little care, sliding and half-falling. Getting down to his knees didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would, so here he stopped, finally taking a breath.
Just like that sadistic bastard to make it look easy. Somehow Wally still had the key, but he couldn't get his knees up high enough to try his luck from underneath. There really wasn't a thing he could do but wait.
What had to be another eternity passed. There's no city sound, no lights, so he wondered where he was again. What had a cheerful elevator outside the city? Or maybe this was some sort of windowless inner room, there being a pole on a stage, after all. Just a little stage, he didn't think he was in some sort of club, but he could be wrong.
When the lights came on, he was surprised to find himself in a tastefully appointed bedroom fit for a king. Or someone rich enough to be a king; rich enough that he was fairly certain the gold lamp nearby was actually gold. The pole was by itself in one corner, opposite what appeared to be a hot tub through an open door. Windows were everywhere, floor to ceiling, but most of the walls were black curtained. There was a big briefcase on the gigantic dark blue bed, carefully arranged with silk pillows.
And there was a man standing in the doorway, looking as if he'd just come back from a long night of partying in a tux. He knew who it was, with the undone black tie and the rolled-up sleeves. Bruce Wayne.
"I know who you are," Wally said. "You look like someone."
"Someone famous?" the decidedly un-Batman-like voice mockingly replied. "I am someone famous."
Now Wally wasn't sure.
"Batman," he said, anyway. "I always thought you looked like Batman."
Bruce Wayne laughed in a very, very decidedly un-Batman-like way. "I've never heard that one before," he chuckled. "What does Batman look like, anyway? Isn't that his thing, never to be seen?"
"I've seen him." It might be him. Blue eyes, black hair, but the mouth looked all different; and Wally hadn't seen Batman's face for almost a year. Not since the first time, he liked to keep the mask on. Wally had been pretty much fine with that so far. Now he wasn't sure about that, either. "He looks like you."
"I think you may be wrong about that. Either way, you're tied up in my bedroom." Bruce shrugged as if this took away all his control over the situation, but was still smiling like he thought it was funny. "Now, why is that?"
"Is it your birthday?" Either way, Bruce Wayne was gorgeous like Batman was scary. The sort of guy that everyone was pretty much ready and willing to sleep with, and apparently did. Wally started to wonder if he might be more gay than he thought he was. He'd have to ask his girlfriend.
"We can pretend it is," Bruce decided. "But I'm not asking the stripper to go home. Do you need help with that?" he teased.
The stripper took that moment to come in. Tall, leggy, with long red hair and a leather mask completing a fetish costume with boots up to the thigh.
Oh.
She prowled over the carpet to give Wally a close view of her breasts, as they threatened to spill out of the lace-up top while she easily unstrapped the last daunting piece of material. He handed her the key, but Bruce made a clucking sound.
"I'll do that in a minute," he told her, so she just sort of helped him off to the side, cleared her stage, and started dancing while Bruce put on some music. Some kind of moody industrial that one would expect to go with that kind of outfit.
She laughed and pinched Wally’s cheek before getting up. “He’s cute,” she declared. She wasn’t so bad herself, with an elegant beauty that hardly seemed to be the sort to be a stripper... at least, not one he’d ever afford to watch. And she looked... a bit familiar, as if he’d seen her face somewhere before.
Bruce opened up the briefcase.
“That’s not quite the word I was thinking,” he replied.
Out came a ceiling-high frame that braced on four legs and he seemed to just pop out like an umbrella. But he tested the legs and they appeared rock-steady. The swinging bar along the top pretty much gave away its function with a pair of cuffs on either side.
The girl's curves gyrated against the pole. But Wally was the naked one, which had him feeling more than a little at a disadvantage. He couldn’t hide how he reacted, watching her treat the stationary metal like a lover.
"Give me a hand," Bruce lightly asked, and she helped him pick Wally up and carry him over to the frame, holding him steady while Bruce locked one of his ankles to the bar.
"Listen... I don't know..." Wally felt a sudden wave of panic, because really, he wasn't sure if he knew this guy at all.
Bruce was strong. He held firm and still locked the other leg up.
The girl let go and left Wally dangling upside-down while she dimmed the lights, all but those over the little stage, but Bruce didn't go anywhere right away. He bent down and kissed Wally reassuringly, slow and tender like it'd make everything alright.
"I'm not sure," Wally confessed.
"I'll let you down, if you'd like," Bruce told him. "There's another suite with food and a hot shower, you can go stay the night and I'll leave you alone. Just tell me now."
"What if I just wanted to watch?"
Bruce chuckled wickedly. "No. I don’t think so." He went back into the magic briefcase and pulled out cuffs that he attached to the poles in front of Wally's face far enough that he would have to bend forward to reach them.
Wally still had the key; he handed it over.
"I'll stay." The second time tonight he'd agreed to something like this. Something in him blew up a second wind.
"I thought you would."
The collar-thing came off and his arms felt good to be stretched out with his wrists in the cuffs. He tested the frame himself, but even putting effort into it wouldn't shake the rods.
"This is some contraption," Wally said.
"Vicki," Bruce said to the girl, who got back off the stage.
Bruce poured himself what appeared to be champagne while Wally had that disorienting feeling from blood rushing to his head, again. It passed.
He saw Bruce settling down to watch and Vicki coming for him with a blindfold and a gag, and that was it. He was back to hearing his surroundings, the music and footsteps on the rug. Vicki gagged him tight enough to make him worry a little, especially since it was the rather secure over-the-face sort, but that was apparently why Bruce had made the offer limited time only. Wally was strapped in and ready to ride this roller-coaster and there was no going back. He braced for the worst.
The first thing that touched him made him jump back, and he heard them both laughing. It touched him again; nothing more than a feather across his chest.
Oh. Well, that was nothing.
It moved up and down, teasing over his groin a little, then between his thighs... where it tickled. He squirmed and laughed into the gag, which came out sounding like nothing more than muffled noise. They kept laughing, and she kept tickling, until Wally's chest began to burn and his sides cramped, but he couldn't stop wiggling and convulsing.
The feather seemed to find every ticklish part of him, lingering over the soles of his feet, long after Wally had tears in his eyes and wanted to start screaming his head off. He tried, but the noise didn't sound any different than the laughing.
He couldn't breathe, everything hurt, and the feather turned into pure torture.
When it stopped, he sagged and felt like there wasn't an ounce of strength left in him.
She let him catch his breath, then tickled his toes and made him jump and squeal. It was knee-jerk, every time she did it, just a touch here or there.
Then she stopped long enough for him to think it was over, before starting in again over his armpits, up his sides, and the burning came back right away, still fighting as hard as ever if he wanted to or not.
The noises he was making turned unmistakably desperate and screetchy, but he couldn't stop that, either. It was hard to think about anything but the delicate searing dancing over his skin. His throat started to burn, too. He was jerking and kicking frantically long before she let him rest again.
Wally listened to his own breathing and the creek of what's-her-name's boots, but there wasn't any more laughing. It was a thick kind of silence around him. He could almost taste them watching him. The feeling of being watched was something he'd never get used to, never stop being surprised about.
He was so turned on.
That thought vanished with everything else when the feather attacked again.
The pain would never stop, it would never be over, this was Hell and there was no way out. The frame held, he was nowhere near strong enough to vibrate out, and he didn't really want to, somewhere under desperation.
One way or another, Batman was watching him. If Wally gave up, he would stop.
"Give him a break," Bruce said.
Then there were two pairs of footsteps around him.
“Are you tired?” Bruce asked him.
Somewhere, Wally found the energy to nod his head with a little urgency.
“I’m sure there’s other things we can do with you,” Bruce said thoughtfully.
Wally felt dizzy with relief.
“Later.”
Two pairs of hands began wiggling all over him, they were laughing again as Wally thrashed and screeched with outrage and agony.
“You would think we were beating him,” Vicki teased.
Bruce thought it was funny and started on one of Wally’s feet.
His chest was on fire and he saw spots in front of his eyes; when he could hear the cuffs rattling against the rods over his voice, the hands pulled away. He whined like a reflex, when he had enough air to do it, long and loud, feebly rattling his bonds.
“See, he feels lonely already.”
Vicki came back with the feather.
He was losing his mind.
Wally felt like passing out when she did, and left him there for the moment. He caught his breath and almost immediately, it was as if nothing had happened. Just left even more worn out.
For a little while, he didn't know what was going on around him at all.
Not until she came back. Again.
This time, she used her fingers, again. It wasn't any better, being squeezed against her body while she worked him over in two different spots. Words like searing agony and eternal pain flashed through his mind.
He was so never going to take tickling lightly again.
"You should give him a treat," Bruce said.
She laughed and stopped, her fingers wrapping around his dick. Wally twitched just a little, but she stroked it as if to calm him down, gently waiting for him to relax. When he did, she began sucking.
Wally curled his toes and grabbed a hold of the rods his wrists were attached to, squeezing tight and soaking it up. Everything felt acute and unreal, too real, but good.
"I think he likes it," Bruce chuckled, and Vicki paused to giggle. Wally was together enough to feel embarrassed, but he didn't stop enjoying it.
He loved it, Batman knew he loved it, but his head was swimming with how fast the game had advanced to the next level. A level Wally hadn't realized existed, but here he was, being passed around Gotham like a Bat-party favor.
She didn't let him come. She stopped, then began tickling again, laughing merrily this time. "You poor thing," she taunted.
Wally's voice was starting to go entirely by the time she stopped and began the more pleasant contact of sucking again. He felt even more upside-down and backwards, but she didn't let up.
Her fingers kept going back to wiggling over his ribs and making him insane to get away, and completely limp-except for his cock-while she blew him.
He forgot who was doing it or where he was until after he came like a freight train and was left alone to enjoy it. Just hang there for a little while and put all the pressure on his ankles. His abdomen was tingling with this strange version of afterglow.
For a little while, he must have actually passed out, because he became aware fuzzily around being let down.
The smell of flowers had been vases spilling full of them all over the place. They jumped out all of a sudden, colourful bouquets on nearly every available surface. Huge red roses were mixed with a spray of delicate white blooms on the night stand. It felt downright romantic in here, which was a vivid contrast to the previous bondage-dungeon atmosphere.
Wally was more or less deposited on the bed. He laid there and got his head back together, then summoned the will to turn look..
Vicki was sitting over Bruce’s lap, smiling as they casually drank champagne. She noticed Wally’s movement and laughed some more. “Do you think he can dance?”
“Not as well as you, I’d imagine.”
Indignant anger flared up in Wally’s chest. Bruce had compared him to her. Who was she, anyway?
“I don’t think he’s up to it,” Vicky said, regretfully.
Wally frowned. “I’m right here, you know,” he croaked. It was only a little better than a whisper; his voice was wrecked.
“We certainly know,” Bruce told him, innuendo hanging off his words. “Get back on the pole.”
Just getting up at all felt a million miles away. The longest not-even-a-couple-yards he’d ever seen. Somehow, Wally hauled himself off the bed and didn’t fall down on the trip across the floor. They just watched him, like watching even that was entertaining. He fell against the pole and held onto it for dear life.
He took a few deep breaths and considered not doing it. The music was still playing, from invisible speakers all around the room. Something grim but catchy.
Wally held on to the pole, but began moving around it. He didn’t feel graceful, but he had Bruce’s complete attention.
“I told you this was a good idea,” Vicki said, flipping her coppery hair over Bruce’s shoulder, and he just nodded.
He turned around and faced the wall, running his ass down the metal, a few times, slowly. Like painful inches, he moved, making most of it up as he went along. He’d seen this before, enough to guess and feel brave enough to hang onto the pole and lift his legs up over his head, clinging around it.
His thighs were quivering-tired as he hung on with them, reaching his hands down toward the floor. There was a little applause and he was surprised not to fall on his head.
“He seems to like being upside-down,” Bruce commented.
Wally flipped back down and got his balance again, up on the balls of his feet. He tried gyrating against the pole, which was difficult to do with an erection, at first. He got the hang of it.
“I need to get my camera. Make him photogenic, it shouldn’t be hard,” Vicki announced, and left the room.
Bruce went back to the magic briefcase and pulled out a handful of red something. The exact same shade as the Flash costume. A clue.
“Are you sure yet?” he asked.
“Not really,” Wally rasped, still holding on.
The red bundle was tossed down beside him on the floor, so Wally bent down to put it on, only to have his wrists snatched and pushed back around the pole.
“I’ll take care of that,” Bruce informed him, cuffing Wally to the pole on a long chain. Dainty gold manacles.
Wally stood up and closed his eyes, letting Bruce dress him in leather. Feeling his hands and the way he moved, trying to determine, once and for all, if he’d been with him forever or never met him before. Bruce must have known he was doing it, because it changed to the methodical, carefully forceful way Batman did everything. He smiled.
Now he was sure.
Itty-bitty leather shorts laced snugly up, matching the red boots he’d been wearing before. They were here now, put back on over knee-high black fishnets rolled over his legs, one at a time, with the upmost care. He looked down at gold eyelets on the shorts and remembered the collar just before seeing that again, too. Bruce tilted his head up to put it on.
Bruce Wayne was Batman. Something not revealed between them, for all this time, and now it was. This next level was not just what the Bat wanted to do with him... he did everything with purpose and reason, Wally did know that well, but all of the reason for it happening now, like this, he didn’t have figured out.
And there was something else.
“Who is she?” Wally asked quietly, as the collar was buckled closed.
“My girlfriend,” was the simple reply.
Oh.
Wally had never quite considered exactly he was... and now he couldn’t help it.
“Look at me.”
They locked eyes, holding a steady gaze that gave Wally nothing as he was given a little eyeliner to go with the mascara he was still wearing. Not a usual addition, but he was used to it, now.
Finally, Wally gathered his balls together and opened his mouth to say something, but Vicki picked that moment to come back, wielding a camera and a tripod.
“Perfect,” she declared, reminding Wally of the frame as she set up her equipment with familiar ease and began adjusting it, looking through the lens at him. “Get out of the way, Bruce. And you, start moving again.”
Wally took a deep breath and let the chain fall against the pole with a tinkling sound, his fingers brushing the surface. Not moving just yet, so much as just trying to gain his composure and just look sexy and right. “I’m sweaty,” he half-heartedly pointed out.
“It looks good. Bruce, kill the lamps and turn up the overhead,” she ordered. Her lips pinched in focus as he did just that and she ducked back behind the camera, one hand gesturing at Wally in a circular motion. “Get going.”
Her long-nailed finger began pushing a little silver button on top, and Wally stopped looking at her. He looked at Bruce, rumpled and exquisite, lurking near the shadows without vanishing into them. Not this time.
Tired, unsure, but still straining in the little shorts, Wally began to dance again. Slowly, occasionally stopping or slowing when Vicki ordered him to, a turn, a different look, a different pose.
The direction stopped after a time, but the camera kept snapping away and the music kept playing, everything else as if it were suspended in place, the room itself holding it’s breath to watch. Then Wally did feel sexy, really sexy, a feeling he loved. The center of attention... for just a little while, the center of the universe. Lusted after.
If he could have, he might have kept going until dawn. For a time, it was as if he could, but exhaustion refused to be ignored forever. His muscles were long past trembling in desperate protest, and even the slow, swaying movements became another kind of agony.
All at once, he gave in, and collapsed around the bottom of the pole. The pictures kept snapping as he slumped down against it, breathing heavily.
“Perfect,” Vicki whispered, stepping back from the camera.
She turned to Bruce and found his askew shirt collar, pulling on it with her fingers as she looked up into his face.
“Let him watch,” she murmured, the words dripping off her scarlet lips.
“He has been a good boy,” Bruce admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Oh yes. Have you?”
“I like to think so.”
She drew him down with her grip, for a forceful kiss every bit taken as given. Their contact didn’t break as Vicki dragged Bruce backwards to the bed, her feet weaving carefully until she just tossed herself back onto the covers, bouncing once playfully.
Bruce crawled over her, all tenderness and love, touching with reverence. As if making love to a goddess he was hardly worthy of undressing, as he still did so. One button, one snap, one movement of laces at a time, caressing her skin and kissing along his work.
So different from any way he’d touched Wally before. He’d never considered he might want him to, but he did now. Jealousy replaced confusion; he wasn’t the center of attention anymore.
The feeling of abandonment was one he tried to push away in vain, forced him to close his eyes and try not to listen to their sighs and moans. He didn’t look, until he did again.
Bruce was taking her from behind, her breast cupped in his hand, up on their knees and moving together. And Bruce was looking back at him, like a reversal of what most of their relationship had always been. Without cameras, in reverse. Not forgotten or pushed out, Wally felt the jealousy leave just as quickly as it had come, even if there was that twinge of longing to be the one touched like that. Bruce squeezed her hip and Wally could almost feel it, himself. Wally wasn’t watching, but keeping that meaningful eye contact, like a tether putting him there with them, pulling him into their lovemaking.
It was one of the most surreal experiences he could remember, so closely inside and outside of himself all at once, not realizing right away how he was squirming, rubbing his cock against the inside of the tight little shorts.
He came right after she did, just before Bruce. He couldn’t be sure that might have pushed Bruce over the edge, hurried him along, but something in his darkened eyes told him it did.
Strange and right to see Bruce the giver, putting pleasure so firmly before his own. This was and was not Batman; in the complete, radiant afterglow, Wally considered that this might be what the Bat wanted him to see, to learn.
Wally gave into his exhaustion, finally, and laid himself down where he was to fall asleep, come, makeup, and all.
The next day, he woke with fuzzy memories of being helped out of his clothes and all that, and into a bed.
Cracks of sunshine were peeking around moss green drapes that matched the covers over him, a soft and amazingly comfortable bed he had all to himself. Wiggling his toes and squeakily groaning in content, he snuggled down into the warmth of it a little while longer, enjoying a moment of care-free content. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would find outside the door.
A deep green silk robe was laid out for him in a chair, which he put on once managing to find his way out of bed. He was fairly certain it was meant for a woman, short and clinging to everything in a way that left little to the imagination. Apparently the kind of thing Bruce Wayne wanted his plaything to wear.
Plaything. That was and was not what he was, he decided, but as close as anything. A word Batman had used quite a few times, the most consistently.
Wally checked himself out in the mirror, admiring the way his muscles were visible under the thin fabric, then he ventured out to find out what was going to happen next.
A tidy, somber butler with sharp eyes appeared as soon as Wally stepped out the door, deferentially gesturing to a set of open double-doors.
“Breakfast is served,” he announced. “Master Bruce will join you shortly.”
“Thanks,” Wally mumbled, bemused.
He discovered a veritable plethora of pancakes there, syrup in a glass thing, covered trays that smelled like bacon and sausages, and hot coffee steaming in a delicate white cup beside an empty plate the butler indicated. Outside the open windows, the city was awake and alive in a bright day, as cheery as Gotham ever could be.
“No need to wait, he shan’t be long,” the butler informed him, before leaving quietly.
The pancakes were thick and fluffy, perfect. Just like they always were when he woke up in the cave. Had to be the same work, he decided, crunching on perfectly crispy strips of bacon. It was hard to decided what he wanted to eat more, more or less going with both at once, between sips of perfectly sweetened coffee, just the way he liked it.
A good deal of the food was gone by the time Bruce came in, a copy of The New York Times under his arm. He looked every inch like he did on television, crisply attired in a pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back and shiny shoes sounding on the wood floor.
“Good morning,” Bruce said, almost smiling as he sat down to his own cup of coffee, pushing the plate aside. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like the dead. Is Vicki..?”
“Left early. She’s going to be rather busy for the next few days.”
“Ah.”
Wally shoveled in a heaping forkful of pancake, taking a bit longer to chew that particular bite. Not sure what to say in a silence that began to last too long.
He wondered if he was in love with Bruce, or if it was just the Bat. Now, here, there was a lot of him present.
“She doesn’t know,” Bruce broke in. “She can’t, for both our sakes. Not yet.”
“And I can?”
“I honestly wasn’t certain if you already knew or not. Or merely suspected.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“We have never really discussed our relationship. I believe now would be the time, if you have anything to say.”
Wally sat back in the chair, a bit surprised. He considered that, carefully. Was he happy with the way things were? Did he want things to change? There was that feeling, that moment of wanting, so bad, to have Bruce make love to him instead of games and chains and fucking. But he didn’t want to say it, and the Bat had seen it. He saw everything, and knew.
Last night, he’d had his doubts about the whole thing, but... strange, distant as it was so often, this thing with Batman was the most stable relationship Wally had ever had. Sometimes, it felt like the longest and most satisfying... and there was Connie, waiting back at home when it wasn’t.
Beyond that... the Bat’s world appeared to be more twisted and complicated than he’d realized. Did he want more of that? His own life was complicated enough. He wasn't ready to make it worse.
It was good. He was happy, having his cake and eating it, too.
“No. Not really. I’m good, if you are.”
“Good. Are you done eating?”
“I think so.”
“Then get under the table and suck my cock,” Bruce said, without his voice changing, without missing a beat. He turned his attention to snapping his paper open and reading through the front page.
Little Wally stood up at attention, rather enthusiastic. Grinning, Wally was feeling pretty good, too. He crawled down on the floor, careful not to bump his head, and did as he was told.
For now, he was definitely fine with the way things were. The way things may be headed, given time.
As long as there wasn’t any tickling involved; he’d had enough of that for now.
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on 2008-07-16 08:42 pm (UTC)Though I have to ask...is this the conclusion? I could see it going either way.
Wonderful story.
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on 2008-07-16 08:50 pm (UTC)I don't know if this will be the last bit or not... I suppose I'll know that when/if the next idea comes along with a need to be done. For now? Yes. XD
Fabulous!!
on 2008-07-16 09:27 pm (UTC)The porn is of course fantastic, hot and in-genius as always. Exactly what a girl needs after a hard day's work. But what really got me this time around was the way you portrayed Wally's vulnerability. Its amazing how you can get that in without it clouding or dampening the scene.
Fantastic job. So worth the wait. <33333
Re: Fabulous!!
on 2008-07-16 10:48 pm (UTC)It just didn't feel right without adding in that element of Wally's feelings; and without having them totally take over. Him being the king of self-esteem issues and all. XD
Thank you so much; I hope everything starts going better for you, too.
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on 2008-07-17 05:57 am (UTC)*foams*
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on 2008-07-17 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-07-18 08:32 am (UTC)GAAHH!! *drools*
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on 2008-07-18 09:42 am (UTC)Excellent, excellent.
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on 2008-07-17 09:06 am (UTC)I wish I could sum up a better word than that to show you just how good this one-shot is, but my mind has gone blank. This is just... wow.
I love the ending line. It's so professional and so.. final, at least to this one-shot. And the tickling scene was superb! You really captured Wally's character to a T.
I can't wait to read more of your stuff.
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on 2008-07-17 09:09 am (UTC)I wish I could sum up a better word than that to show you just how good this one-shot is, but my mind has gone blank. This is just... wow.
I love the ending line. It's so professional and so.. final, at least to this one-shot. And the tickling scene was superb! You really captured Wally's character to a T.
I can't wait to read more of your stuff.
... I just realized the post had already gone through. xx. I'm so sorry.
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on 2008-07-17 10:46 am (UTC)Thank you very much. :D
The last line, like they always seem to be with my work, was very last-minute. It always seems like it comes after everything else has been scrutinized and edited to death. It's turning into a bit of a tradition. XD
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on 2008-07-17 07:02 pm (UTC)And that's an interesting bit of knowledg, considering it fits as perfectly as though you had it in mind when you were writing said story.
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on 2008-07-17 10:47 pm (UTC)It's always the best to know they're being enjoyed. :D
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on 2008-07-18 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-07-18 10:15 am (UTC)Right now, it's 6:15a where I am. :D
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on 2008-07-18 12:35 pm (UTC)Ooh. That's very early. It's half past two in the afternoon here.
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on 2008-07-17 03:02 pm (UTC)It's like reading the novel I buy from the store, you're simply amazing!
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on 2008-07-17 03:38 pm (UTC)Ouch is right! But I don't think Wally suffered too much... XD