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First You Catch Your Bat

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I'd been in love with him forever.

Well, who could blame me, right? He walked out of the dark at the worst moment in my young life, tall and strong and comforting, and took me into his arms as if he understood what I was going through. Later I discovered that he did, that his parents had been killed when he was about my same age, that he'd been exactly where I was. But at the time, all I knew was that somewhere, in the pain and grief and confusion that had become my life, there was an oasis of peace and stability called Bruce Wayne.

He gave me more than comfort – he gave me purpose, a reason to exist. He took all my undirected pain and anger and gave it a focus so that, instead of growing up into an angry and rebellious young hoodlum, I grew up into a decent human being and a crusader for justice. Even if I was sometimes also an angry and rebellious teenager.

He gave me a home. The first real home that I had ever had. As much as I had loved the circus, loved traveling, loved the excitement of the spotlight, I had never had a single place to live in year after year. A place where I could put down roots. A place where I could count on going to the same school for more than a few months between tours, could have friends my own age.

He gave me discipline and structure. Much as I hated it at times, particularly when I was looking at the carpet from the wrong angle, the strong foundation he built under my feet gave me the strength to let go and fly. To excel, both at school and in our more dangerous extracurricular activities. To survive when a single mistake could cost either or both of our lives.

And I gave him my heart.


I knew that he loved me – as a parent loves a child, a mentor loves an apt pupil, as one friend loves another. More recently, I thought that he loved me in a different way, as a man does the one he desires. As a lover.

Not that he would ever tell me.

I told him. When I was fifteen, I told him that I loved him. Bruce sat me down and told me, in the kindest way he could, that it was normal for boys my age to become infatuated with a mentor: a teacher, coach, family friend. He assured me that it would pass, that I would find a true recipient for my affection. I nodded silently, but I didn't tell him that I already had.

Him.

When I was sixteen, I tried to seduce him. I had figured out by now that Bruce wanted me, but I also knew that he wouldn't make the first move. It would be against his code of ethics, especially since I was underage and his ward. So I decided that it was up to me to seduce him. Okay, it wasn't a very good seduction attempt, but it was sincere. I took to wearing very tight jeans slashed in just the right places or very short shorts, and developed wiggles that would have impressed Gypsy Rose Lee. Then one evening, as I deliberately bent over to pick something up so that he could see just how perfect my ass was, a hard hand that I remembered very well from my younger days smacked me while a stern voice said, "Change. Now."

Needless to say, the shorts and jeans ended up in the trash. As did my attempt at seduction.

Now I was seventeen, and I decided to make him jealous. I already knew that the Batman was possessive, and I was pretty certain that he wanted me, and I thought that he might react if he saw poachers intruding on his 'territory'. So I started going out with girls. I don't date much – didn't have the time, what with my second life as a crime-fighter – but I went on occasional dates to preserve the image of Richard Grayson, normal teenager. And if my back-seat activities with the girls I dated never went beyond necking, it was easily explained by having a strict guardian.

However, when I came home, my hair mussed and hickeys on my neck, Bruce gave me a sharp look but said nothing. So obviously dating girls wasn't going to force Bruce's hand. Boys. That's what I needed to target.

Easy enough to think, difficult to execute. On the one hand, Bruce had to be convinced that I was going out with a boy so that his possessive instincts would kick in. On the other hand, I didn't know that many openly gay boys at Gotham Academy, and the few I knew either weren't my type at all or had a rep I'd just as soon avoid. I had no intention of giving it up to anyone but the one man who was my type – a certain Dark Knight.

My problem was solved when one of my friends suggested a group expedition to the newest hot spot in town, a "mixed" club catering to the young gay and straight crowd. Jonathon, his current steady, the latest girl I'd been "seeing" and I would go mix it up, dance, have some fun, and be home before the parental units knew anything about it.

On the surface, it looked safe and foolproof. I'd make sure Bruce was out of the house, leave him a voice message that I was going out on a date with "Jason", return all sweaty and mussed from my "date", and Bruce would jump me.

What could go wrong?

For one thing, I forgot that the Batman was the world's greatest detective.

We met at Jonathon's house since he was all too eager to show off his latest "toy" - the new car that had been his present for at least passing his classes this year – and arrived at the club at what appeared to be the fashionable time to visit. The place was mobbed with so many people coming and going that, even though we were underage and Jonathon was the only one with a fake ID, we were able to slip in. Once inside, there were no tables to be had, but Janie dragged me onto the dance floor, and by the time we'd exhausted ourselves, Jon had snagged one along with several bottles of beer. I accepted one with the uneasy feeling that Bruce would have my head if he found out, then brushed away the thought. After all, we often had wine with dinner, so it wasn't like I was a stranger to alcohol, and I didn't plan to get drunk.

A second beer followed the first, and we were feeling really relaxed by the time the four of us made our way back to the dance floor. The buzz and the pulsing of the music made me feel alive the same way danger sometimes did, and I abandoned myself to the dancing. The four of us gyrated our way through at least two songs, and then I suddenly found myself dancing opposite a stranger. A good looking one, with muscles to die for and a kind of attitude that told me he was well aware of his looks and his appeal. I shrugged to myself – it was only a dance, and although the guy was dancing closer than I liked, the fact that his scent and sweat was rubbing onto my shirt would help fuel my plan.

The set ended and the band took a break, and I turned to return to my friends and our table. A firm hand caught me around the wrist and I found myself abruptly pulled back against the stranger's chest.

"Where you going, pretty one?" he asked, leaning forward to nuzzle at my neck.

I pushed him away, not liking the hungry look I saw in his eyes. "My friends are waiting for me – "

He glanced past me and snorted. "Those children?" he asked with amusement. "Why don't you come play with the big boys? We can have our own private party, and I'll make you feel soooo good."

Now, I've faced down arch-criminals and stared death in the face, but this guy was plain creeping me out. The look in his eyes said that he'd pegged me as a virgin and planned on having cherry for dessert, whether I liked it or not. I didn't like it. Years of martial arts practice made it easy for me to break his grip and take one of my own, two fingers holding his wrist in a painful vice-grip.

"I said 'no'. Now get the hell out of here."

He retreated, rubbing his aching wrist, and Jon gave me a high-five. "Tight, bro! You'll have to teach me that move."

"I don't think you'll have that chance," Janie said, looking at something over my shoulder, her eyes wide with fear. "Here comes big trouble."

I turned around, expecting to see that jerk had returned with friends, but nearly fainted when I saw that it was worse. Much worse.

Bruce was standing in the doorway.

His eyes met mine across the room, and there was a clear message in them. 'Stay where you are, little boy. Or else.' Numbly, I watched him cross the floor, not even surprised at the effortless way he cut through the crowd. Mentally, I began adding up all this evening's transgressions: lying about where I was going, sneaking into an adult club, drinking –

I was toast.

Bruce stopped in front of the four of us, his eyes pinning each of my friends with a coolly polite look. "Ms. Reynolds, Ms. Fraser, Mr. Waters – your parents are concerned about you. I have a cab waiting outside to take you home."

He turned and made his way back towards the door, and the four of us followed meekly behind him. He hadn't even looked at me a second time, which was totally ominous.

Make that totally burned toast.

My friends, bless their little hearts, also figured that out and were totally sympathetic.

"Man, I am so glad I'm not you, DG," Cassie murmured. "He looks mad."

"Yeah," Jon muttered. "His type are always the worst – they've done it all and know all the dodges. I'd pray for a heart attack, if I were you." Janie just giggled at that.

I managed to give each of them a glare before we arrived outside. Bruce held open the cab door while they got in, then gave the driver Jon's address – and a healthy tip to ensure that they got there without any stops along the way. Jon was worried about leaving his car but a look from Bruce made him get in the cab without a murmur.

As the cab drove off, Bruce gave me another look that nearly made me wet myself, and turned to lead the way to his car. The sports car. Which meant no Alfred to serve as a buffer on the long trip home. On the good side, it also meant that Bruce couldn't kill me till we got home – he'd need both hands to drive this thing.

I buckled my belt and licked my lips. "Um – Bruce – "

I got another quick glare. "Unless you want me to stop this car and start our discussion right now, I suggest you remain silent till we get home."

I shut my mouth. I had only pushed that button once: when I was about twelve and thought I was the pinnacle of wit, I had retorted, "Yeah, stop the car – I dare you!" I'd ended up bare-assed over the hood of the car on the side of the road while my guardian reminded me why being a smart-ass was a bad idea. And I had still gotten punished when I got home.

Bruce parked the car and led the way into the house. Alfred was waiting, as usual, and took Bruce's jacket. I had gone out without a coat – probably something else that Bruce would cover it what was shaping up to be a long and painful night.

"Will there be anything more tonight, sir?" Alfred asked.

"No, thank you, Alfred." A look at me had me automatically moving towards the study. "I have some – business to take care of."

I could feel Alfred's eyes follow me and I know that I was blushing along the back of my neck. "Yes, sir. Will Master Dick require my attention later?"

"I'll take care of him, Alfred. You go on to bed."

"Yes, sir. I'll leave a tray with ice packs and the salve in Master Dick's room, and then I'll turn in, sir."

I turned even redder at those words and hurried into the study as Bruce was murmuring his thanks and goodnights. One of the problems with having family retainers was that very little of your life was private. Alfred knew far too much about my youthful sessions over Bruce's knee and, grateful as I was for the comfort he provided afterwards, it was still humiliating to know that Alfred was aware that I was about to be punished again.

I entered the study and came to a sudden halt, staring with horror at Bruce's desk. There, prominently laid out on top, was the cane.

Bruce has a punishment scale for every type of infraction. Most things warrant a hand spanking, things like breaking the rules and foul language and such. Risking my life is a paddling offense.

The cane is for lying.

Bruce made a point early on in our association that the one thing we can't afford is not being able to trust each other. Our lives depend on that trust, on each of us knowing that the other's word is his bond. And lying eats away at that trust.

I'd had one go-round with that cane, several years earlier, when I'd done something stupid and then tried to cover it up with a lie. Never worked, of course – I swear that the Bat has some sort of built-in lie detector. Bruce had brought out the cane and demonstrated just how effective it could be in, and I'd never lied to him since then, although I'd certainly tried to avoid directly answering some questions.

I hadn't lied again until today.

I heard him come in behind me and swung around. I knew that my face had to be white with terror now because I could see a slight softening in his eyes, the way he gets when he has to do something that will hurt me, but his jaw was still set with determination.

"Please! Not the cane! You can paddle me raw, but please not that!"

Bruce shut the doors firmly behind him. "Dick, did you lie to me when you left that message? When you said you were going out on a date with someone named Jason?"

"Yes, but that wasn't a big lie! It wasn't like anyone's life was in danger from it!"

Bruce sighed and came closer. "Janie's grandfather was hospitalized tonight. Her mother called here, looking for her, and I told her that I didn't even know you two were going out. Then I called Jon's parents and they said the four of you were supposed to be going to a movie. If I hadn't been passing by that club and saw Jonathon's car outside, we could still be searching for the four of you. Do you understand how serious that could be? What if there had been an emergency and I needed you?"

I bit my lip at that, picturing Batman having to go up against a dangerous criminal alone, simply because he couldn't find his partner. The thought made me feel queasy, and I thought that I might be ill right there.

"Not only did you lie to me, but you went to an adult club. How did you get in? Fake ID?"

"No, sir," I said hastily. I knew that Bruce would be death on doing something illegal like that. "They were crowded – they didn't see us slip in."

"Hmmm." The frown on his face told me that he was going to have words with the Commissioner about the laxness of the club owners. "Did you drink while you were there?"

I didn't even think about lying. "Yes, sir. I had two beers."

"Are you aware of the drinking age in this state?"

"But Bruce! We usually have wine with dinner – "

"Answer the question, Richard."

When he used my name, I knew that I had pushed my limits. I sighed. "Yes, sir. I know the drinking age."

"Right. Let's deal with this one issue at a time," Bruce said, picking up the cane. "First, lying. Jeans down and over the desk."

Reluctantly, I unfastened my jeans and pushed them down to my knees, grateful that he had allowed me the dubious protection of my briefs, then bent over the desk. Grasping the edges with my hands, I tensed and waited for the first blow to descend.

I heard the whistle through the air a second before I felt the pain explode along my backside. I had barely a moment to draw in a gasping breath before the second one landed just below the first. The third one made me yell out loud, and by the time the sixth and final one fell I was swearing that I would never lie again. Ever. No matter what.

Bruce let me lay there for a few minutes to catch my breath while he rubbed his hand in soothing circles around the small of my back. I might have enjoyed that if it wasn't for the throbbing of my backside, an entirely different kind of ache from what I was hoping to feel this evening.

I pushed myself up from the desk and pulled up my jeans, glad that they weren't tight fitting ones. I studiously avoided looking at Bruce, even when he handed me a tissue to wipe my eyes.

"All right, Dick. Let's discuss the rest of this evening's events. Like why the four of you went to that club in the first place."

I shrugged. "Jon and the girls thought it would be fun."

"And you have such a weak will that you went along with it?" I flushed but was silent. "Did you know that's where you were going when you left the house, or did you just end up there on a whim?"

"I knew," I said quietly. "I wanted to go there."

"Not enough excitement in your life so you had to take a risk by going to a club like that?"

"There wasn't any risk – " I began hotly.

"I was there for several minutes before you saw me, Dick. I saw what happened."

My flush went even deeper. "Then you saw that I handled the situation just fine."

"I saw that you were in a situation that you shouldn't have been in to begin with. What if that young man had been – less easily persuaded? What if he'd returned with friends?"

"Come on, Bruce! It's a public club, not some sort of leather bar! What could have happened?"

"What did you want to have happen?" My head jerked up and I stared at him, speechless. "You went to a lot of trouble to set this scene up. Granted, I wasn't supposed to find you at that place, but you must have had a reason for all this. And I want to know what it was."

A sudden, horrible realization swept over me. Bruce hadn't come looking for me because he was jealous that I was out on a "date" with another boy; he had come looking for me because Janie's parents needed to find her. Which meant that he hadn't cared who I was dating. Which also meant that I was completely wrong in thinking that he was in love with me, like I was in love with him. He loved me, as a father and as a friend, but not in a romantic sense. And he never, ever would.

And there was no way in hell that I could tell him why I had done this. I would rather be paddled black and blue every day for a month. But first I had to get out of there, get away from him so that I could catch my breath and hide my breaking heart.

I ran for the door, wrenching it open and running across the foyer towards the stairs. Behind me, I heard Bruce's startled exclamation, heard him call to me, but I ignored him. I had just reached the base of the stairs when I heard something that I couldn't ignore.

"Richard! Stop right there! Now!"

I froze in place, years of learning to obey this man's direct orders instinctively taking control of my body. But I didn't turn around, not until he grabbed my arm and pulled me around.

"Young man, what in hell – " His angry voice broke off and, in surprise, he said, "Dick? You're crying – what's wrong?"

Crying? I didn't realize that I had started crying, but now I couldn't seem to stop. And with the tears came a flood of words that I couldn't stop either.

"I love you! I'm in love with you! Don't say that I'll get over it or grow out of it because I've been in love with you forever and I'm never gonna stop! And don’t say that I'm too young because I'm not – I'm plenty old enough to know what I want."

I dashed tears away from my eyes. "You were supposed to get upset about me going out with another boy, dammit! You were supposed to get all possessive and claim me for yourself - "

"Like this?"

Abruptly, I found myself silenced by a hard and demanding mouth as arms like steel wrapped around me. Shock held me still for a moment, but then, just as he started to pull back, I regained my wits. I threw my arms around his neck and swarmed up his body to wrap my legs around his waist, and I kissed him back for all I was worth.

His arms shifted around me, his hands moving down to cup my ass and hold me in place. I moaned at the feel of those large hands grasping my sore backside, but it was a moan that was mostly pleasure and little pain. He took advantage of the moment to thrust his tongue inside my mouth, taking possession of my mouth as he had taken possession of my heart. I eagerly surrendered to his kiss, initiating some tongue action of my own. My cock was rock-hard and aching; I rocked against Bruce's body, using my leg muscles to move back and forth as I felt the need build. Pleasure ignited inside me, ripping my remaining sanity from me along with a shout of joy as I came.

Sated for the moment and boneless, I dropped my head down on Bruce's shoulder and sighed blissfully. I felt rather than heard the chuckle.

"Feel better?"

"Mmm."

"Good." I felt movement and realized that Bruce was carrying me up the stairs. As we neared my room, I tensed slightly but he walked right past it to his own room. I relaxed again and allowed myself to smile against his shoulder. I should have known – once the Bat makes up his mind about something, he doesn't waste time on second thoughts.

I unwound my legs enough to let him deposit me on his bed, wincing as my sore backside hit the mattress.

"Back in a moment," he said, going back into the hallway. I could guess where he was going – to fetch the tray with Alfred's remedies from my room – and decided to take advantage of the opportunity to shuck my wet and uncomfortable pants. I kicked off my shoes and, with a little bit of squirming, managed to slide my jeans and briefs off. Another bit of squirming and my shirt went in the other direction.

"My God!"

The deep, almost reverent words came from the direction of the doorway, and I turned my head to see a stunned-looking Bruce standing on the threshold. His eyes were riveted to my body with a look of wonder on it that made me grin. I had a matter-of-fact appreciation of my own body although I wished for the Bat's heavier musculature – not to mention his height. But the look on Bruce's face made my ego go right through the roof.

I laughed softly. "Come on, Bruce. You've seen my body before."

"Not totally naked and not on my bed." He shut the door firmly behind him and crossed to the bed, setting the jar of salve next to me before claiming my mouth with a kiss. "Beautiful," he murmured against my lips.

I grinned and started unbuttoning his shirt. "If we're going to talk about beautiful – "

He shook his head as he straightened and began stripping off his clothes. "I'm not beautiful."

I would have to agree with that. Beautiful isn't the right word at all – it fails to describe the sheer masculinity of that hard body, those sculpted muscles. Handsome doesn’t do it, either, because it doesn't capture the haunting fragility that now and then peaks out of those incredible blue eyes. And then there are his other – attributes, for which the only descriptions sound downright pornographic. In fact, there is no one word that adequately describes him, except maybe one, and I said it now.

"Mine." I pulled him down on the bed on top of me.

He instinctively used his arms to brace himself above my body so that he wouldn't crush me. "Dick – are you sure? I'm fourteen years older than you, and I've never been a success with any romantic relationship…"

What was that I said about the Bat not second-guessing himself? I grinned and pulled his head down to mine for an enthusiastic demonstration of my certainty.

By the time I let him go, I was hard again and his cock was like iron where it rubbed against my leg. I reached down to caress it, marveling at the feel of someone else's cock in my hand. It was similar and yet, at the same time, different – for one thing, it was bigger than mine and I had a momentary qualm about how the heck it was going to fit inside me.

A gentle finger trailed down my face and I looked up to see those intent blue eyes watching me. "We don't have to do that," he said softly. "In fact, given the condition of your bottom right night, we probably shouldn't."

Ouch. I had completely forgotten about the earlier caning – which just shows you how numbing his kisses can be. Now that it had been mentioned, though, my ass decided to remind me that it was there by throbbing. Still, I wouldn't let a little thing like pain get in the way of what I had wanted forever.

"I want you," I said firmly. "And since I won't be sitting comfortably for a few days anyways, might as well make it worthwhile."

"We'll talk about it, but first I want to take a look at your bottom. Roll over."

I rolled over onto my stomach, pillowing my head on my hands, and winced slightly as I felt a fingertip trace the evenly spaced lines scoring my butt. One thing I can say for Bruce – he's a perfectionist in everything he does, and you could probably take a straight-rule to those stripes.

"The surface isn't broken," he said with satisfaction, "but these welts are going to sting for a couple days."

"Tell me something I don't know," I grumbled. A sharp smack right on the center of one cheek made me jump. "Ow! Hey!"

"Watch the smart mouth. And don't forget – we still have some unfinished business."

"Now?" I asked, appalled. Here I was, hard as a rock, and here he was, equally aroused, and he wanted to talk about the rest of the punishment I'd earned.

He laughed softly. "No, it can wait for tomorrow. Right now, I think I promised Alfred that I would take care of you."

I relaxed and waited for the familiar chill of Alfred's special formula for easing the pain of bruises, sore muscles, and spanked bottoms. Instead, I felt something wet and rough trace the path of the first welt.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Language, brat," he admonished me before leaning back down and slowly tracing the next welt with his tongue. I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it, both to keep from letting out a scream that would bring down the house and to keep from cussing as Bruce's talented tongue continued to map each line with slow and erotic precision. He seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly - and who knew that Bruce could be so kinky? Okay, perhaps the Suit should have given me an idea, but this?

I let out another gasp as that tongue finished with the last mark and moved to another target. God! I'd read about this on some gay websites I'd checked out for information, but I'd never actually expected to experience it. With a whimper of need, I lifted my ass up and pushed backwards, wanting to feel more of the tongue that was teasing me. Bruce shifted slightly, pulling me up on my knees as he knelt between them, then spread my cheeks wide before diving it.

I howled and involuntarily bucked under him at the feel of his tongue pressing into the most intimate part of my body. Bruce Wayne, billionaire and darling of the elite set of Gotham City, was rimming my ass – and doing a mighty fine job of it, too. Weakly, with what little part of my mind that I had left, I wondered where in hell he'd learned to do his, and chalked it up to one other thing he had learned during his wandering years. And I was certainly thankful that he had.

His hand closed over my cock and that was all it took. I was coming like I'd never come before in my life, screaming with raw pleasure from the feeling of his tongue in my ass and his hand on my cock. I collapsed on the bed, feeling boneless and exhilarated at the same time. Vaguely, I was aware that Bruce was now spreading the salve over my ass, and I sighed at the cool relief on my stinging welts – not that I was really feeling much pain at the moment.

Bruce nudged me over on my side and spooned up behind me, kissing the back of my neck. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"Mmm," I murmured blissfully. I felt the hardness of his cock along my back and pushed back against him. "Still want you."

"Brat. You're insatiable."

"I'm seventeen."

He chuckled at that, and moved slightly. A moment later, I felt a slippery finger tease the opening of my body, and I was relaxed enough that it slid in easily. Bruce moved his finger in and out, twisting it to further relax my opening, then a second finger joined it and a third. By the time he had the third one thrusting in and out of my body, I was hard again and rocking back against him, begging him to do it, to take me, to make me his.

He lightly bit the back of my neck and licked the bite. "You're already mine, aren't you?"

"Always," I groaned, thrusting back against his talented fingers. "Now fuck me already!"

He chuckled and pushed at my top leg until it was bent closer to my chest, and then I felt a blunt pressure against my opening. "Take a deep breath and blow it out," he murmured in my ear. "That's it," he said, kissing the base of my neck as I obeyed and he eased into me. "You're doing beautifully. Just relax and let me do all the work."

"God," I moaned, not quite knowing what to make of the feeling inside me. Not quite pain, more a feeling of fullness, but I had the feeling that he wasn't even close to being all inside me. Would I be able to take it all? I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him in any way; desperately, I tried to push back, to rush our coupling, but his hands were like iron on my hips.

"Slowly," he murmured. "We'll get there."

"I'm okay – just do it – " I panted.

In reply, he reached around and grasped my cock and stroked it. The familiar and yet new feeling of his hand stroking my cock caught all my attention, and I forgot to worry about what was happening behind me. This time he teased me, never quite enough pressure to get me off, until I was swearing and bucking into his hand, desperate for more stimulation.

Abruptly, I realized that he was now fully inside me and I went still in surprise. He chuckled and bit my shoulder. "See – I told you that we'd get there."

"You're all the way in?"

"As deep as I can get in this position," he replied, then shifted his hips and gently thrust in and out of me. "Feel good?"

"Feels wonderful!" I gasped. I turned my head back towards him, awkwardly seeking a kiss. He kissed me deep and long as he continued to thrust into me with slow, steady strokes, then moved his mouth back down to my shoulder. I reached up to hold onto his head, loving the way that he was devouring me, and hoped that there would be marks left in the morning. I wanted to feel his possession of me on every inch of my body.

I was getting close and I knew that he could feel that as he tightened his hold on my cock and began stroking it with firm, deft strokes. He shifted slightly and thrust in again, nudging something inside me.

"Oh!" I gasped, shuddering with pleasure. "Again! Do that again!"

He did, and I felt my body give way to the ecstasy coursing through it. I felt him thrust again, felt his body shuddering behind me, and his voice crying out my name hoarsely. And that was it. I exploded everywhere – over his fist, inside my heart, inside my head. I'm not sure if I whimpered or screamed his name, only that it was the only word in my heart and on my lips as I tumbled into oblivion.


When I came back to awareness, I realized that subtle changes had taken place around me. I'd been cleaned up and more balm rubbed into my backside, covers had been pulled over my naked body, and the lamp beside the bed had been turned down to a dim glow. But the warmth at my back was still there.

I slowly shifted till I was lying on my other side, facing him, and saw that he was awake. "Hey," I said softly.

"Hey yourself." He smiled, and I realized that I had rarely seen that smile on his face before. It was a relaxed, content sort of look, almost happy, and I decided that I wanted to see that more often. Preferably from this same vantage point – the middle of his bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I grinned. "You have to ask?" I leaned forward and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss. "Can we do that again?"

He laughed. "Completely insatiable, and you're going to be the cause of my premature old age." He wrapped an arm around me, shifting till he was lying on his back with me snuggled against his chest. "Go to sleep, brat. We're going to have a busy day tomorrow."

Vaguely, I remembered that he had warned me that we weren't finished with our earlier discussion and that I was due a spanking still, but at the moment I wasn't worried. Tomorrow morning was a long way away. And, now that I'd caught my Bat, I had every intention of keeping him in this bed for a long, long time.

 

The End