by Weirdness Magnet
7-30-2005

Disclaimers: DC owns them.  I borrow them when I need distractions from work, but I make no money.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: Bruce waits for Tim to make the first move.

Ratings Note/Warnings: 18+.  Bruce/Tim.

Author's Note: Sequel to Action, From Principle.  And yeah, you need to read that one first for this to make sense.

Title: From Philip Massinger, who wrote, "Patience, the beggar’s virtue, Shall find no harbour here."

Acknowledgments: Thanks to Chalcopyrite, no_absolutes, darkdanc3r and f5bobcat for betas, audiencing and squeeing in all the right places.

**

Bruce has been patient.  He's very good at being patient. It's a good thing, too, because Tim has been...  

"Teasing" is the wrong word.  "Testing" is more accurate.   

Since that night, Tim has been something like affectionate.  He's taken to hovering closer than usual when Batman sits at the console, and Robin's arm bumps against his almost every time the boy reaches for the computer in the Batmobile.  Tim's typically intense gaze as they take turns stitching each other's wounds after patrol has been harder to endure.  Bruce has relied heavily on the Bat to keep him from violating Tim's boundaries. 

And there *are* boundaries, despite Tim's little gestures to the contrary.  It's obviously a test, and though Tim does very little without being absolutely certain, like any good scientist he will experiment. The small touches and looks are part of some complex analysis, but Bruce hasn't decided if Tim is testing him, or *himself*. 

It isn't necessarily relevant.  Tim will make it clear when he's ready for Bruce to do more than watch him.  Until then, Bruce tells himself, he *will* be patient. 

He pulls his robe tighter and sips at the still-warm coffee Alfred left.  Tim always takes longer in the shower.  Bruce doesn't mind; it gives him time to start filling in the nightly reports.   

The sound of his even, precise typing is broken by damp footsteps padding across the cave floor.  "Alfred left sandwiches," Bruce tells him, turning the chair around. 

Tim is naked, his skin reddened from the shower.  Bruce doesn't have time to say anything before Tim puts his hands on Bruce's shoulders and kisses him. 

Bruce follows his lead, opening his mouth when Tim licks it.  He skims his hands over Tim's wet, warm back.  He doesn't want to touch *too* much, because it's entirely probable that this is another test.     

It isn't until Tim licks his way inside Bruce's mouth that he realizes Tim doesn't want to stop this time.  The theory is confirmed when Tim doesn't struggle as Bruce pulls him into his lap.

Tim arranges himself so his legs dangle over one of the chair's arms, with Bruce's arm supporting his back. He's cradling Tim almost, and it's oddly comforting but at the same time the position exposes Tim's ass. It's too easy to get a thumb behind his balls and caress the wet skin there.

Tim's moan rumbles against his lips. He likes the way Tim digs into his shoulders, likes the fact he's not wearing the armor so he can feel every bit of Tim's heat.

Bruce presses one fingertip against the rim. "You want me to."  He means it to be a question.

Tim's forehead is moist against his. No words, just a sharp nod. 

Bruce lifts him bodily and moves towards the stairs, but Tim shakes his head. "Here."

The gurney is really big enough only for one. The sheets are pristine, but Bruce knows how many nights the bed has been stained with blood from his wounds, Dick's, Jay's. Tim's, less often. Tim is more careful. There are only so many wounds he can explain away to his father.

Tim's skin contrasts sharply with the bleached-white cotton. Bruce lies him out gently, careful of the latest set of stitches on Tim 's shoulder, and tries to silence the part of his mind that thinks Tim will put a stop to this.  He reaches for the Bat, and is somewhat disturbed when he can't quite hold on to it.  Again.

He has to watch Tim's face the first time he runs a finger up the shaft. Just one finger, firmly, all the way up from the base to the tip. He watches Tim's head tip back slightly, lips parted and the gentle, quiet moan that's almost a gasp.  Bruce licks his lips and traces his finger around the head.

"Bruce." It's a whisper. He realizes he wants Tim to make noise. Not a lot, but enough to know that he wants this.

He strokes more firmly. "Again."

Tim's eyes meet his and he licks his lips. "*Bruce.*"

He wants to watch Tim's face. He wants to watch and to touch but he can't watch and act at the same time. The knowledge that the cave's cameras will record it all allows him to turn Tim over.

He rubs the curve of Tim's spine down until he can dig his thumbs in and spread him. A slow, thoroughly wet kiss there makes Tim whimper and push his face into the pillow.

He flicks and teases the pucker until he has to press Tim's hips down to hold him still. Tim quiets his moans with the pillow.

Bruce pulls off. "Turn your face."

Tim twists up on his elbows, and looks back at Bruce. His face is red and sweaty, and his mouth is used-looking from where he's bitten his lips.

"I want to hear you."

Tim's eyes flutter closed. "Fuck."

Bruce pushes on Tim's back until he lies down again with his face turned to the side. He draws Tim's hips back towards the edge of the gurney until he's kneeling, ass exposed and legs slightly spread.  Bruce gets a hand between his thighs and caresses his sac. It earns him a little whimper and Tim's fist digs into the pillow. Bruce watches to make sure he doesn't shove his fist into his mouth. If he does, there are zip strips within reach.

Bruce doubts it will come to that, not after Tim begs when Bruce gently presses a fingertip inside, and definitely not after Bruce reaches between Tim's legs and strokes his shaft to hardness.

He pushes in more roughly, caressing Tim's cock to let the pleasure of one cancel out the discomfort of the other. Tim rocks his hips, alternating between moaning and cursing.

Bruce feels Tim clench when he pushes a second finger in. "Breathe."

"Need lube."

"You can take it."

Slow stretch and scissoring, and Tim whimpers but his hips haven't stopped moving. Bruce's fingers are deep, probing and stroking him inside, and he tilts the angle just so to rub Tim's prostate.

Tim chokes out a cry and his entire body shudders. "Don't--"

"I want you to like this."

"I need you in me first." 

Bruce thrusts his fingers gently a few times before rubbing that spot again. Tim's cries are more desperate this time, pleading.  He squeezes Tim's cock sharply to hold off his ejaculation.  "Tell me what you want."

Tim has to work to get the words out. "Fuck me."

"You had said once that you were going to fuck *me*.  Have you changed your mind?"

Tim's eyes are unfocused. "Would... Is that what you want?"

He pushes his fingers in roughly. "I just--" Thrust. "--want to make sure--" Thrust. "--you get--" Twist. "--what *you* want."

"I... I want to come, *god*..."

Bruce yanks out his fingers, flips Tim over roughly and braces himself over him. "That's *all* you want?" He makes his eyes narrow and hard and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning when Tim's cock slides against his.   

Bruce watches him calculating his response in his head.  "I... want you to make me come."  Tim's cheeks flush when he says it.

Bruce knows his smile looks exactly as sharp as it feels. He covers Tim's body and kisses him deeply, tangling their fingers.

It's an effort to break away enough to reach the lubricant. He warms the lube between his fingers before preparing them both. Tim doesn't stop moving the whole time, like the simple rolling motions of his hips will be enough to bring him off.  Bruce has to hold Tim's hips still so he can line up.

The penetration rougher than Tim probably wants, but Tim winces only a little, biting his lip until Bruce gets all the way in. Bruce holds himself still and strokes Tim's dick to distract him. It makes Tim jerk up, makes Bruce shove deeper and Tim chokes and digs his short nails into Bruce's arm.

Bruce pulls out slightly, then pushes, setting up a rhythm with his hips and hand. Tim's eyes close and he shakes his head.

"Relax. It will get better."

Tim exhales sharply. "No, it's... it's good, it..."

Bruce leans in. "You feel *good*."

"Bruce, I..."

He shifts his hips. "You could have had this. This whole time -- you could have had *this*." He tilts his pelvis so he hits Tim's prostate on the next stroke. Tim yells and arches, and Bruce lets go of Tim's cock to support his hip so Bruce can hit that spot on every thrust.

The rhythmic snap of Tim's hips drags Bruce closer to orgasm. He has to close his eyes and bury his face against Tim's neck, tries to steady his pace to hold on to control, but he feels the familiar roll in his balls.  He keeps thrusting until he feels the wetness and Tim's ragged breathing beneath him, until he hears Tim pleading almost painfully, "Please, come *now*..." and only then lets himself come.

Bruce lies on top of Tim, listening to him try to breathe and mildly reveling in the feel of Tim's fingers brushing the hair on his neck. It takes a while to untangle his fingers from Tim's other hand. He notices tiny crescents in his flesh where Tim's nails dug in. He'll have to admonish Tim for not keeping his nails short.

Later, perhaps. After a shower.

**

Tim is thinking.  Bruce ignores it.  He knows Tim will talk when he's ready.     

Although, Bruce admits silently to himself, tonight he acts more focused than he feels.  But the Bat reminds him – sternly -- that there is work to do.     

Robin ponders through training and patrol.  It's not a brood – he's not in a dark mood – but there is no excess touching tonight.  Batman does not ask him about it.  He gives Robin tonight's evidence to catalogue and settles at the console to work on reports.   

It's later, after they've trained again and showered, that Tim approaches him.  Bruce is at the console again but he's not working with intent, just working to fill the silence.  Tim standing behind the chair makes the silence seem louder than usual.   

"It took you long enough," Tim says finally. 

Bruce doesn't stop typing.  "You were clear that you would initiate things." 

"You didn't respect my wishes the first time.  Why would I think you'd listen to me now?"   

That makes his hands still on the keyboard.  "I did *not* force you." 

"No, you just –- " But Tim stops himself and sighs.  Bruce can sense Tim scrubbing his fingers through his hair.  "You said –- you said you need me because I don't need you." 

Bruce stills himself all over and listens for everything Tim is and isn't saying.  "Yes." 

"What if... what if you're wrong?" 

Bruce doesn't turn around because he can feel Tim wince at his own words.  Instead, he sits back in the chair and steeples his fingers. 

"There is a difference between need and want," he says carefully. 

"I know." 

"But you don't trust your instincts right now, about this."  Bruce turns the chair around.  He can see the pained look that isn't on Tim's carefully blank face.   

Bruce wants to tell him that it's all right to want this, but he knows he has no words for it.  He says instead, "I've told you what to do when you don't trust yourself," and extends his hand.

Tim's eyes flutter closed as he exhales sharply, and then he slides his hand into Bruce's.  Bruce tugs him forward and tilts his head back.  He closes his eyes and waits for the kiss.