title: Insomnia
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Bruce/Dick, Alfred, Tim, Lucius Fox
rating: Mature
warnings: dream sex
summary: Bruce is plagued by very pleasant dreams.
notes: none

The soft leather cuffs held his arms remarkably comfortably above his head. The silk sheets felt sweet under his naked body. Everything was perfect...and the soft sound of his lover's feet on the carpet, just out of view of the light on the bed meant it was only going to get better. He was trying to be patient (it's a virtue) but conditions were just so.. so.. ripe.

A soft chuckle indicated that he was transparent to the young man pacing around the bed. Good. He was tired of illusions and images. Naked, with his hands cuffed above his head, he felt free. No need for names or masks. Just himself. It was bizarrely liberating. Finally, the pacing brought the other man close to the bed, and in one fluid motion Bruce was sure only Dick was capable of, he was standing on the bed, each of his feet around Bruce's. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight, soft, black leather pants that clung to him and moved with him, and he was holding.... a gravy boat? The perfect blue of his eyes danced as he slowly brought his knees to the bed and began to tip the gravy boat over Bruce's naked tummy.

"I skipped dessert at dinner today. You don't mind if I have it now, do you?" His voice was so soft, and so... enticing. The voice completely distracted him from the gravy boat, which had tipped sufficiently for the liquid to spill. It touched his skin with a sizzle, and Bruce could barely hold his surprise and pleasure.

"Hot fudge sundae sounds good, hmm? I think I may be becoming lactose intolerant though..."

A stream of chocolate was now working it way up Bruce's torso towards his neck. Without warning, moving with inhuman grace, Dick dipped down to lick the long trail he had left. He licked all the way up Bruce's body and bathed the neck fully. Then, he painted Bruce's lips with chocolate using his tongue.

"Needs cream, dontcha think?"

Suddenly Bruce's hard cock was drenched, and Dick carelessly tossed the gravy boat over his shoulder. He then curled up on the bed next to Bruce, and began taking tiny nips at his cock using only his lips. Bruce was writhing and straining, grateful for the restraints as they were the only restraint he had, but simultaneously wishing he was free to throw Dick against something so he could do stuff... probably better that Dick was in control.

He was now taking long, slow licks, like Bruce's cock was the tastiest ice cream treat ever invented. Bruce was way too involved with what was going on to think about holding back. When Dick took a playful nip of the tip with his lips wrapped around his teeth, Bruce felt like the orgasm was going to rip him apart from the inside and the outside together.

His mouth still full of "dessert" Dick leaned up to Bruce's face. He touched his lips to Bruce's, and when Bruce opened his mouth for a deep kiss, he opened his own mouth and let the chocolate and come dribble into Bruce's mouth.

"Good flavor, don't you think?"

"I bet yours is better."

"How much do want to bet?" while Dick calmly ran his fingertips up and down Bruce's arms.

"Master Bruce? Master Bruce? If you are going to make the Mayor's luncheon, you will have to get up now." Alfred's cultured but urgent tone broke through to Bruce.


Bruce woke up to find himself tangled in sweaty, sticky sheets, and Alfred was standing above him, making a concerted effort to not look down.

And he never got to touch Dick.


Bruce stretched out a little on the nest of pillows his lover had laid out for him, careful not to upset any of the little jars or brushes placed out around him. "Are you sure you want me on my stomach?"

"For now." The tease in the tone made Bruce shiver. He turned his head enough to look up and see Dick, clad only in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, mixing some ink in a little bowl. He came down to straddle Bruce, seating himself lightly on Bruce's bum, picking up a brush.

"What are you going to write, anyway?"

"The Song of Songs. In Rom."

"Isn't that sacrilege?" The tease in his own tone sucked away by the shiver the first touch of brush to skin.

"Writing a book of the bible on my naked, gay lover? Or doing it in Rom?" A pause, Bruce clearly not able to respond, shocked by the sensuality of what was going on, not having expected it. Kisses dropped lightly on Bruce's spine, and "This body is an occasion for worship. With every tongue. Of mine."

And then Dick turned to his task with great fervor. He wrote down one side of Bruce's back, and then the other. Long hard strokes down his spine. Words dropped on the back of each thigh, then calf, then each foot brought up to be tormented in turn. A soft, wide brush brought out to write widely on his butt. The brush teasing down the crack...

Bruce pushed to roll over, and the front of each leg and the top of his feet covered. Then the inside of his legs 'til he thought he would burst, then his collarbone being given attention. Down each arm, teasing the hands. Large symbols on each cheek and forehead, and then, seeing Bruce practically begging for the touch of fingers or lips on his mouth, a playful swath across the bottom lip.

To his chest then, with barely there touches to his nipples, enough to make him weep and moan more but not enough to make him come. Then to his stomach, and sides, with a harsh brush to his belly button. He poked Bruce's balls with the end of the brush, and then leaned up for eye contact, darting his eyes between Bruce's and the only unpainted part of Bruce's body.

Bruce was sweating and almost mad with desire and pain and pleasure. He had almost completed the thought that this is what being tantric must be like, when the coarsest brush ran up the underside of his cock to swirl around the tip.

Dick chuckled, and leaned close to Bruce's sweaty face, whispering "We both painted each other! I used more style and finesse, but you definitely get points for choice of medium..."

"Bruce? Bruce? Did you sleep here all night?"

Bruce jerked in the chair in front of the crays in the batcave. His whole body felt tense and rigid and miserable and sweaty and sticky...

Tim was standing in front of him, ready for school. The computer's screen saver was running.

"I, uh, know you told me not to, but, uh, I ran the analysis we talked about last night. I had all my homework done and it only took ten minutes! Anyway, uh, here it is." He handed Batman the disk, and was turning to leave. "You should probably go upstairs, and, uh, get some real rest, uh, maybe."

Bruce sat, dumbfounded. He didn't remember what analysis or search he had been doing. He didn't remember falling asleep at the computer.

He didn't remember touching Dick in the dream, or getting those pajama's off.

Damn, damn.

Bruce strolled through the hall of the beach house, naked. It felt good, like he wasn't filling a role or performing a function. And best of all, like he didn't have a function to perform. Shedding his clothes, his responsibility, his life, his pain, his identity, or rather, his identities...

He couldn't remember the last time he came here. Oh, right, Dick made him bring him here for a mid-week vacation when he was a junior in high school and they had just apprehended the Joker, Two-Face, and the Mad Hatter in the space of six days. It had been fun.

He wandered out by the pool and, completely on impulse, dove in. Slipping through the water, and taking lazy strokes, diving deep just for fun, like a kid playing in a pool. Finally, he pulled himself out the water... to find Dick stretched out on a chaise-lounge, beads of water still covering every inch of him, his black nylon-ish trunks clinging to him so perfectly...

A lazy grin spread across his face and he dropped down on top of Dick, straddling the younger man, leaning down to claim his mouth...

Dick's hand came up to stop him. He guided one of Bruce's hands to rest above his shoulder, and guided the other down, down, down, around Bruce's cock. He leaned up imperceptibly and beautifully, and whispered, "Show me how to love you." At Bruce's uncomprehending and confused expression, he added, "Teach me to make you moan."

Bruce shivered, and let his gaze fall over Dick's body, resting on the growing bulge in Dick's trunks. He started grabbing himself roughly, still confused, but enjoying the view and the promise it implied. Dick's hand came up to Bruce's chin and led his eyes to meet Dick's. "Watch me. Watch me watch you." The blue eyes captivated him as they purposefully locked with his own, and then, they slipped down, taking in every inch above him.

His hand started moving slower, and slower still, and then, watching the flush fill Dick's cheeks, the breath coming more doggedly. His one hand gripped the iron of the chair above Dick's shoulder so tight, he thought it would bend, and the other hand lazily made its way up to tease his nipples. He played and toyed with them, careful to squeeze and twist the way his first lover had taught him could be so right. The hand slipped down, tickling and teasing, 'til he roughly dipped a finger into his belly button. He grazed his inner thighs with his fingertips, and then grabbed the base of his cock hard to stay his passion.

He was more aroused by each reaction his hand elicited from Dick, the way his eyes were almost closed, his breathing was hard, his neck muscles tense, and his chest, well, heaving. Bruce played with his balls for a moment, showing Dick how relatively insensitive they were, how much fun they could be to play with, and then went to stroking, caressing, pinching, playing, toying, thrusting his cock. He tried desperately to make it last, so that Dick may get inspired to play, but eventually, he had to let go.

It took every bit of energy he had to not collapse on top of Dick.

After a moment. Another. Dick dragged his hand through the come.

"Mmm, you made a mess. Now you have to clean it up."

Oh, yes...

"Uh, Bruce? Bruce? We're here."

Huh? Lucius? Wha-

"I'll, uh, I'll go in and, uh, get started, uh, and you take your time..."

Reality came to focus, slowly and painfully. He was in the limo. With Lucius. On the way to the meeting with ... Pacific Transglobal?

No, that can't be right.

And he had had a dream. Oh, god, he was sticky! Crap! Lucius got out of the car as dignified as he could, and Bruce heard the voice through the speaker, "Master Bruce? I believe there is a change of clothes in the trunk, if you afford me a moment..."

And he still never got a chance to touch him.

Damn, damn, damn!

The door flung open just as he was about to walk away. Dick stood, panting a little, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel that was just the right size for wrapping his waist. Bruce had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't asleep.

"Hey. Just got out of the shower, obviously. C'mon in." Dick led him through the loft to the kitchen part of the large open space. "Been running late all day. Didn't even put away all the groceries yet, heh."

"That's fine." Although at that moment nothing felt fine.

"Can I get you something to drink, anything?"

Dick looked, well, adorable, trying to be a good host and keep his towel on at the same time.

"No, nothing. I," clears throat, "came to talk."


"Yeah, well, see..." What did he come here for anyway? What was the point? "I've been having dreams."

"Dreams? Something involving the Hatter? Scarecrow? Ivy?" Nervous, Dick started to put away the groceries one-handed, making Bruce have to try not to think about things Dick could do one handed.

"No, nothing like that. Just, ah, reoccurring."

Dick began to look concerned. "Did, ah, you want to... what's the word? Talk about it?"

Bruce had to smile. A little. A very little. "No, I can, well, you know, not deal with it per se..." Now Dick was smiling. A lot. "But, I just, well, I haven't been getting a lot of real rest. And, well, I felt someone should know."

Dick looked confused, and paused in his storing of groceries, to try to figure out what he should do if they weren't going to talk and it wasn't a poison.

Bruce cleared his throat. "You know, since I'm probably not in top form."

Dick still looked confused, but realization dawned slowly. Bruce was coming, because he needed help, someone to watch his back, and he came to... he came to... he turned to Dick for help!

"Oh! Yeah, of course, well, right, yes, someone should know, and Yeah! I can watch your back, while you are, you know, not dealing with it per se..."

Bruce was shocked to see the ... well, joy that spread across Dick's face as he realized what Bruce was saying. He knew he was bad with words and feelings and communication, but, surely Dick knew how much Bruce respected, and trusted him? Right?

Feeling awkward and foolish and just plain dumb, he started helping Dick put away the groceries. There was a companionable peace, with chatter from Dick's end, when...

He pulled out a box of condoms from the bag. An economy size box of extra large ribbed condoms. Economy size.

Dick turned to Bruce mid-chatter and froze.

After a beat, he turned beet-red, and started to stammer. "Oh! Uh, heh, um, let me take that, uh, and uh, get uh, dressed, uh, thanks, um, be back and uh, maybe, uh, be back in a minute."

Bruce watched as Dick walked away from him, with his giant box of giant condoms, the movement of the tight muscles of his perfect ass visible under the soft towel.

He sat down momentarily.

Was there a way to contract insomnia?