A/N: Okay, so I have returned. It's been a while. And I've come back with this. I don't know why, but I've read a few stories with this kind...um...piss-play? Is that what it's called?

Anyway, I thought it kind of fitted Bruce. It's not about the piss necessarily, it's more about him getting off on the control of Dick. I tried to write it so that it didn't focus on the piss too much. I mean, I couldn't ignore it entirely, it's kind of big part, but you know, it's not too explicit in that regard...I hope. Also, I've never experienced this personally so obviously I can't know what it feels like, but I think it's accurate.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of its characters.

Warnings: Graphic sex and piss-play.

Dick always knew that Bruce liked power games. It was part of him; this need to be in control. He couldn't figure out how it'd gotten them here, with Dick on the floor at Bruce's mercy, but he wasn't complaining. Well, he was a little.

"Bruce," he tried to keep the whine out of his voice. "I've really got to go." The older man hummed in acknowledgement of his former ward. Dick watched as Bruce kept going about his work. He fidgeted, frustrated and uncomfortable. He tried to read his book. He really did, and he especially tried to avoid pulling his knees to his chest in his most comfortable position. It would only make the feeling worse.

"Drink." The instruction was so quiet that Dick barely heard it. He wished that he hadn't as he looked at the water bottle beside him. Biting his lip, Dick opened the bottle as slowly as he could manage and took a few tiny sips. "More." Bruce instructed, a little louder. Dick reluctantly took a large gulp of water. He then put the bottle and closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the feeling of the water as it settled in his stomach. It made the urge stronger and slightly painful. He took a deep breath but couldn't still his hands as they settled on his stomach, pressing, trying to relieve the tight pressure. He moved them to his groin, rubbing and kneading the flesh he could feel under his jeans.

In his distraction he didn't even know that Bruce had gotten up until his father was there, gently tugging his hands away. He moved his position, gently guiding him so that he was kneeling, legs apart so that he basically sat on his calves. His arms were placed behind his back and he held onto them briefly before moving away. If Dick was hoping for relief, he wasn't getting it now. He almost whined in a pathetic attempt to get Bruce's attention, to show him how desperate he was. The man walked back to his desk and continued working.

It was another hour before panic struck Dick. He'd been uncomfortable and fidgety since he'd been moved into the new position, but now it was serious. The pain was building. That wasn't what panicked him though. The panic was caused by the small spurt that erupted from his penis. It was warm and ran down a little bit, causing a wet patch in his jocks. He groaned quietly and saw Bruce flick his eyes to him. Without waiting for the spoken instruction Dick stood and took off his jeans before resuming his previous position. When he glanced down at the wet spread on his jocks he almost groaned again. It came out kind of strangled in frustration. He knew he could just let it go. He had to hold it until he couldn't anymore. Bruce would know if he didn't and then the game would be pointless. The old man would leave him there in his mess to clean up and neither of them would get satisfaction. So he held it some more.

Half an hour later it was too long. He couldn't do it anymore. He whined incessantly, even though Bruce looked at him in slight disappointment. Dick didn't care. He so desperately wanted to let it out, to relieve the painful ache inside him. Another spurt burst out and he whimpered. It was good and warm and wet against the head of his penis. He felt Bruce in front of him as he spurted again and again, until the unstoppable flow began.

Dick didn't fall apart often, but his shoulders shook and he heaved in air as he wet himself. A tear ran down his face at the relief he felt. His bladder still ached but it wasn't the painful stabbing he had been feeling. He could feel the urine around his legs, over his thighs and in his jocks, warm and so, so good. He nearly sobbed when Bruce reached a hand forward and touched the outline of his now hard penis. This was good.

Bruce wasn't sure how to feel. He liked this game. He was very much in control of his often uncontrollable son. But this, right now, was the opposite of control. His eldest was a sight to see, thighs wet and shaking while he heaved in breaths of relieved air. Bruce couldn't control himself as he traced the outline of Dick's erection through the soaked jocks. The hitching breath and shaky exhale that resulted from the touch wasn't missed, but Bruce was fascinated by the acrobat's quivering thighs, the thin layer of downy hair damp and glistening.

It wasn't the sight of Dick's slowly calming body that had him groaning and lifting the man to his feet. It was the sight of deep blue eyes that looked at him, dazed and trusting. Bruce was no longer in control of his actions as he dragged Dick by the arm to the nearest shower and stripped off before turning the taps on and tossing them both under the stream. He pressed the lithe, young body against the wall and kissed him possessively. Dick responded eagerly, mewling when Bruce bit his lower lip lightly and explored his mouth.

The younger man's shirt was tossed on the shower floor, followed by the jocks. Bruce pressed their hips together, grinding against the willing body pinned against his. When he grabbed Dick's buttocks the other male responded by easily wrapping his legs around Bruce's waist. The powerful thighs that had been shaking not ten minutes earlier were strong and steady, tightening and loosening as Dick rolled his hips against Bruce's stomach. The change in angle had made Bruce's erection slip, so that the cockhead was rubbing between Dick's cheeks, occasionally catching on the younger man's already stretched entrance. Slowly he inched inside his son, even as Dick tightened his arms around his neck, gasping and moaning quietly as he was breached.

It took several minutes before Bruce was fully seated inside Dick. Without lube and only water to help slick the process he hadn't wanted to rush. Dick was a mess. He was moaning and rocking his hips, clutching at Bruce's back. He whispered in his ear, things like 'move' and 'please' and 'Bruce'. It was hard not to oblige him as Dick's legs began to quiver again and his tunnel constricted.

Planting his feet more firmly and resting Dick back against the wall, Bruce started to thrust. He braced one hand on the wall, while the other gripped Dick's waist in a bruising hold. He could already feel his orgasm starting to build in his lower abdomen and he knew Dick's toes were curling as the acrobat's calves pressed into his hips. He began to thrust harder and faster at Dick's urging, but he would have anyway.

"Bruce," Dick whined, climaxing with sticky streams of white cum that were quickly washed away in the stream of water. With a few more thrusts Bruce was joining him, pressing in deep and grunting. He rested his face on Dick's shoulder as he rode out his orgasm. By the time it was over, Dick was there, holding his face and kissing his cheeks, his neck and his mouth in small butterfly kisses that the other man was fond of giving. Bruce didn't know what to think about them, but he endured them because Dick was smiling in lazy, post-coital bliss as Bruce let him down. They washed and cleaned up the mess in the office, clearing away the plastic sheet they had used to protect the carpet.

Later that night, when Dick was curled up in his bed with an arm thrown across his chest, Bruce wondered why he let him do it? Why would Dick, happy, confident and ever-smiling Dick, let his father humiliate him the way that he did? He thought perhaps it was because of the sex he got out of it. Or perhaps from his selfless instinct to help anyone in any way that he could.

As he looked down at the ink-black hair strewn across his chest the head lifted and he found himself looking into Dick's startling blue eyes. A sleepy smile was given to him and Dick fell back asleep, mumbling something quietly, his head now turned up to Bruce. As he looked down at Dick, who was smiling, even in his sleep, he thought that perhaps Dick didn't need a logical reason. Perhaps Dick's only reason was that he loved Bruce unconditionally. And Bruce felt that he could most certainly live with that.

A/N: So, what do you think? Is it good? It got kind of fluffy towards the end. I don't know why it did. I needed a way to end it nicely I suppose.

Anywho, I love reviews. They'd be very nice. 'Cause they make my day. Good or bad is fine, just not cruel, otherwise I'll be sad. And nobody wants that.

Thanks for reading!