Holy Glowing Genitals, Batman!

This takes place between parts four and five of "No Dawn, No Day" and contains explicit sexual content.


"Okay," she couldn't pull away from him long enough to get a full sentence out. "So," she kissed his neck, the line of his jaw, "We should," he met her mouth with his, sealing off the thought she was trying to voice. "-mmph, we should talk-" Damian sucked a hard kiss into her neck and she shrieked, laughing "-l-logistics!"

He'd known before they'd even started that he'd have to follow her lead. While he had the basic idea and rudimentary knowledge of how a man and a woman joined, it wasn't as robust an education as he would have liked. Grayson had made sure he'd known the basics, sitting him down shortly after his fourteenth birthday and subjecting him to one of the most painful lectures of his life. He hadn't had much interest in sex at that point, and Grayson's 'talk' made him take a personal oath not to get wrapped up in that gross nonsense.

Looking back, he wished that he'd paid closer attention. Dick had had a lot of experience. Possibly too much.

Damian leaned back a little, giving them both some breathing room.

"Logistics?" He echoed uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's been a while since I've done this, but I'm not so hard up that I want to make this a bathroom quickie." She laced her fingers together around the back of his neck. "We've got all the time in the world for those. Let's make this nice."

"A bed," he surmised, nodding.

"A bed's a good place to start."

He gave an affirmative grunt, putting his arms around her again and lifting. She'd been sitting on the counter, her knees hugging his sides, so she automatically wrapped her legs around him.

And Damian started walking to his room, Stephanie hanging off him like a koala.

"Are you really going to carry me?" She asked, a laugh in her voice.

"It's faster this way. My legs are longer," he explained, taking the stairs two at a time. He wouldn't admit that he was very reluctant to have her stop touching him. Contact was a new thing for him, and he had to admit that he was hooked.

"Your practicality is amazing, you big jerk. Speaking of being practical...you have condoms, right?"

He stopped mid-stride.

Prophylactics. How could he have forgotten? Of course they would need those. He was astounded that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He'd convinced himself that this would come later, that they would have established a day and time to consummate their relationship, that he would have fair warning and would be able to plan accordingly.

But, this was happening now, and he would have to improvise as best he could.

"We're not going without," Stephanie said firmly. "Not with my luck and fertility and your genetics. Not going to happen."

"How long do condoms last, unopened?" He asked, brow furrowing as he thought. He had an idea, but it wasn't one that he particularly liked.

"I dunno. Three or four years?"

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was an entirely new kind of desperation for him.

"That'll suffice," he said, and turned toward one of the manor bedrooms that he had not entered in many months. He'd had no reason to go in there, no desire to dredge up painful memories, but this was a very good reason.

Dick would approve, he believed, and would have given him a condom himself with an infuriating wink if he'd been around to dispense them.

"If anyone would have a stash of unused prophylactics," Damian explained as he let her slide to her feet. "It'd be him. Grayson had...he had them everywhere, like he was prepared to entertain a 'guest' in any part of the cave at any time. I've found them in his motorcycle gear, in the trophy area, under training mats...it's been like a bizarre, prolonged Easter egg hunt that I've wanted no part in. I've always thrown them away, but it stands to reason he might have some in here, still."

Stephanie grinned. "Yet another stunning bit of sleuthing from the World's Greatest Detective in training."

"Hush, woman. Help me look."

They did so in silence. The room had been left untouched, so it looked uncomfortably like he'd been occupying it just the day before. The fine coating of dust was the only thing that spoke otherwise.

He didn't know where to look, or even where to begin to look, so it was a good thing that Stephanie led the charge. It didn't take long before she gave a triumphant "ha!" and held up a foil-wrapped square.

"Where did you find it?"

"A bookmark in Pride and Prejudice."

Oh, Richard. You ridiculous bastard.

"I wouldn't have thought to look there," he admitted.

"And that's exactly why I did. C'mon," she said, her eyes bright. She took his hand and led him out of the room and away from the mood-dampening memories. They would keep.

Damian scooped her up again. She shrieked in delighted surprise.

"Longer legs," he reminded her, pushing his bedroom door open with his hip.

They tumbled into bed, Steph rolling so that she settled in his lap.

Her size surprised him sometimes, when he didn't expect it. The Stephanie Brown of his memories had been taller, much less breakable. He knew, logically, that this was only because he'd grown quite a bit during their time apart, but that didn't shake the perception. In fact, it only made him feel awkwardly protective of her, like she'd been hiding her smallness from him the entire time he'd known her.

He nudged her chin up with his thumb, pausing for a moment before he kissed her.

This was right. He knew it as unshakeable fact. Stephanie was the only woman that had held more than his most passing interest. He wanted this to be good for her, to make her happy. Her outburst regarding Drake had lingered in his thoughts. She'd been upset; hugely upset, almost frantic. It'd seemed like an overreaction in the moment, but upon reflection he thought that he understood.

Stephanie had always been driven by the desire to be wanted. No man in her life had given her that, had made her feel fully accepted and cherished. She'd been afraid that it'd end up being the same with him-that there was some fault in her that made her undesirable. She'd misread his hesitance, so he had to make up for that as best he could.

Words failed him on the subject, so he'd have to let his actions speak instead.

"How have you gotten away with wearing so many clothes for so long?" Steph asked, pulling at his shirt. It got caught on his chin and the awkward angles of his elbows, but she took to wrestling with zeal.

"I could ask you the same," he said, looping his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and tugging. He loved her hipbones, her soft stomach, and the curling pale hair between her legs. How she could see herself as undesirable was beyond him.

She kicked her shorts off the rest of the way, grabbing his sweats by the ankles and yanking them down in one swift movement. She grinned cheekily.

"Better," she announced. "Much better."

She settled herself on his stomach, pinning him on his back as she tore the condom open.

"Oh. Oh, wow. You have to be kidding me." The condom that Steph had carefully removed from its packaging was a milky white, completely nondescript as far as he could tell.

"What?"

"I think he-oh my God, what a dork-"

"What?" Damian demanded again, this time more insistently. The mattress shifted as she got up, padding to the light.

"One sec," she said, flipping the switch.

He would have been more flippant and impatient, but seeing her naked and in clear lighting made any sarcastic remarks dry up in his chest. He could wait, if it meant an uninterrupted look at her. She was holding the condom up like a torch, and under any other circumstances he would have thought her ridiculous. But, he was too busy staring at the way her hair fell over her breasts, the beautiful mapwork of scars on her skin.

She abruptly flicked the light back off.

The condom she had pinched between her fingers glowed a garish fluorescent green.

"Holy glowing genitals, Batman."

"No," Damian said, and he couldn't have sounded more repulsed if he'd been actively trying. "I will not wear that."

"Then no vag for you."

Now, that wasn't fair.

"You're being unreasonable. You're asking me to put one of Richard Grayson's goddamned glowing condoms on. I won't be able to maintain an erection. It's not possible. You can't ask that of me."

"I'm asking that you help make sure we don't have any bat-babies," she said, a warning in her tone. With her history, he understood, but...

"Until we're prepared," Damian amended, hearing the hesitance in his own voice. She didn't respond immediately, which made him want to swiftly kick himself for voicing that thought aloud, but then the bed dipped with her weight again and she kissed him, lightly and lingeringly.

"Not for a while, no. Maybe someday, but you've got to prove you can raise a cat, first. So just man up and wrap up."

Truth be told, he didn't want to stop the process now that they'd started. The idea of being left painfully hard due to turning his nose up at the protection she insisted on was not one he entertained for long.

"Fine," he said flatly, holding his hand out to take the offensive bit of latex.

But she said "Good choice," and wrapped a warm, small hand around the base of his dick. His stomach muscles jerked reflexively.

Oh. She was going to do it herself. How very like her.

"Pay attention-next time, you're putting it on yourself. Latex goes on the inside, rolls on the outside. It should look like a little hat. A charming little hat for your penis."

He nodded mutely, wishing she would stop talking and just do it, because if she kept talking about giving his penis a glowing tophat he was going to lose it.

"Leave room at the tip, so the stuff has someplace to go. Then, start rolling it down. It should be snug-you don't want it to be too loose." She finished, sitting back on her heels and surveying her work. His cock curved toward his belly, glowing merrily. "You, uh. You don't have that problem. At all."

If he preened a little at that backhanded praise, he couldn't have been blamed for it. She cleared her throat.

"So now you're all dressed up and ready to go. Any questions before we get this show on the road?"

"No, not especially," he drawled, and tugged her into him again. She mumbled nonsense hums of happiness as he framed her hips with his hands, kissing and sucking a meandering line from her jaw to her breast. There was nothing that he didn't want to touch, didn't want to explore, didn't want to taste.

She knelt, knees spread on either side of his hips, and the hand she'd had resting against his belly trailed lower.

"This does make it easier to find, y'know."

"Shut up," Damian growled, ready to launch into a fresh bickering match, but she found a very, very effective way of shutting him up.

Exhaling raggedly, she guided his cock into her. She took him in inch by wonderful inch, tight and perfect, muscles rolling in a flutter that reduced his biting remark to a throaty "Ngh."

She laughed, high and breathless, hands planted on his chest.

"Good?"

"Fuck."

"Good."

And then she moved. Steph rode him, hips thrusting with a rhythm that he tried to keep up with. She showed him how, she showed him where; she controlled everything, her breaths damp and shallow against his neck.

He'd never lacked words before. Even as a very small child, his vocabulary had been extensive; expressing himself had never been a problem. But now, all of his training and all of his words, everything impressive and bold and haughty about him, was shed unexpectedly.

He let her lead, because it was too perfect, too much, more than he had imagined it could be. It wasn't that he hadn't touched himself before-no, he'd dealt with the awkwardness associated with being a growing boy. But it'd been just that-something that he'd dealt with, that he'd gotten rid of, because he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy it. Orgasms had been thoughtless and mechanical.

This was different. The sounds she made. It was overwhelming.

It'd ended up being a little bit too much. He felt it coming, felt the heat of his bunching muscles, and tried frantically to stop-he knew that it was too soon, that she wasn't anywhere near satisfied, that this was an ultimately disappointing performance.

But she arched, and it pulled him over the edge. He half-gasped, half-yelped her name, white, blank pleasure punching the back of his screwed-shut eyelids. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and when he rode the crest back down, shame rose up to meet him.

"Sorry," he said hoarsely. His chest heaved like he'd ran ten miles. No manner of self-control, of willpower, could keep him from softening inside her. "I-that-it wasn't..."

Stephanie leaned forward, her hair spread in a messy nest over him. He reached up and tucked a hank of it behind her ear. It was a silly impulse, but it made her smile.

"You lasted way longer than I thought you would. I actually thought the condom would do it," she said, then kissed him. He could smell her, skin and soap and sweat and the musk of a woman. It wasn't something that he'd ever forget.

"You should know better," he said, able to gather up a little bit of loftiness. It just made her smile widen.

"I should," she agreed, then extricated herself. He shot his nethers a very disappointed look. Flaccid, he was still glowing balefully. He sighed and carefully removed the condom, knotting it and throwing it toward the wastebasket. Even in the dark, his aim was true. "Most guys barely last at all, so don't beat yourself up. There's plenty of time to get used to it and build up that staying power. I know how you feel about training, so..."

"Yes," Damian said, with all the determination of a man who had mastered every form of martial art he'd been introduced to. "I will be excellent."

Stephanie laughed, curling up next to him. Their skin stuck together slightly with sweat wherever they met. She tucked her head against his shoulder, sighing deeply.

She sounded content, but...

"I...I wanted to," he began haltingly. It sounded so damnably childish, but he felt the need to say it-to tell her. "I wanted to see you..."

Stephanie propped herself up on her elbows. "What?"

"I want to know how to please you," he said quietly.

"D," she said, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Seriously, that was more than enough of a lesson for one day. I don't need to-"

"No," he interrupted. It sounded more like a command than a request, now. "I want you to show me how."

She processed that silently for a few seconds, then asked, "Really?"

Steph sounded like the idea of watching her touch herself should have repulsed him. He didn't really care. He knew what he wanted, and he knew that he learned best from seeing something performed in front of him.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," she said, and then "Oh," again. He could feel her take a deep breath. "Okay. But the lights are staying off, you little perv."

"That's acceptable."

"Damn right it is," she muttered, and took another cleansing breath. He could see her well enough in the half-light of the room, the blinds painting her pale skin with even stripes. She was absolutely luminous, each curve described in chiaroscuro.

She closed her eyes, her fingers curling up into the cleft of her sex. He watched the way she stroked-angle, speed, variation, all the things that he would have memorized had he been learning some new kata.

He found it odd-worrisome-that she was more embarrassed by this than she'd been about everything else. She'd been bold, commanding, when it came to his needs and his pleasure. But she'd hesitated to get herself off, like that was somehow less important. More than that, she treated this act like it was dirtier than the rest, even though it was just for her.

He didn't like that.

But she forgot that he was there, that he was watching, because she relaxed. Her knees bent, hips rolling as she rode her own fingers, voice high and raw and gasping. It was a slow thing that built, and when she finally came it was-he'd never seen anything like it. She arched clear off the bed, muscles hard and quivering, wound so tightly it looked painful. Her moan-explosive, desperate, almost a sob-made his half-hard cock twitch with interest.

Her breath hissed through her teeth as she came down. It slowed, and evened, as she went lax and loose again.

"That was magnificent," Damian said reverently. She gave a breathless laugh, hitting his arm.

"Come on."

"No," he said, taking her hand. He licked her fingers. "It was."

That robbed her of any smart remarks, which was just as well. He'd said what he'd wanted to say, and she knew that he meant it.

Overall, it went remarkably well for something so new, so different.

Practice would make it perfect.