Author's Note: Right, well, sorry it's taken so long. That's entirely my fault, no excuses. Also, THIRTY-FOUR. That is the number of reviews AmberSpirit's amazing last chapter got. That is staggering, I have never got so many reviews for one chapter before, and it has brought this story to the GRAND total of... TWO HUNDRED AND SEVEN, which is my most reviewed fic, ever. So thank you everyone. I wanted to repay you (since it is my turn again) with a really long chapter, but then, guess what, it was too long, so we split it. We'd still like to hear what you think of this one though! AmberSpirit had to help me on my Richard parts because I am apparently made him sound like a douchebag, so parts of this chapter are actually hers. Oh, and the result of the Richard vs Bruce poll was Bruce wins BY FAR.
And also, we've been getting a lot of reviews (A LOT) asking when Dick is going to find out Bruce is Batman. We're putting this to bed now. Dick IS going to find out about it, DON'T WORRY, and yes, it's going to crush him and fuck with his mind. Try to enjoy the story in between with that knowledge.
Chapter 21
Saturday afternoon came much too quickly for Dick's liking.
The sounds of drilling and the moving of heavy objects woke Dick early. He rolled over to look at his alarm clock. Five AM, that was what Bruce's money and name could do. He lay there and listened to the commotion downstairs, his anxiety about Richard's visit making him fully awake. It seemed endless; the shuffle of dusty boots as the movers struggled to transfer the equipment, whatever it was, the whir of drills putting screws and bolts into place. He had no idea what money had been spent, what favours called in, what muscle flexed, but after it all, he didn't feel a single drop of gratitude. All he could hear was the assembly of something for Bruce, not for him.
Nevertheless, as soon as he thought Richard would be awake, he nervously called the number the older boy had given him, half-praying he wouldn't answer, but he did.
"Hello?" he answered, and Dick realised his palms were sweating. This was ridiculous, it was just a phone call, people made them all the time, Richard had given him the number for Christ's sake! That made it implicitly okay for him to call, but that didn't keep Dick from feeling that it somehow wasn't his place, that he was bothering the blonde.
"Er, hi, Richard? It's Dick, I was just wondering if instead of me coming round to your place, if you wanted to – I mean, Bruce would like to - He says it's okay if you wanted to come here, to practice," he babbled, not quite sure what to say. He didn't want to come on too strong, like a sad, over-eager freshman invited to the big kid's table, but he was knew that he wasn't exactly sounding very cool either. Dick thought maybe he could try to get Richard to refuse, but he knew that now Bruce wanted to meet him, there was nothing he could do to avoid it. It just made him sick that he of all people was helping his tormentor to get what he wanted, drawing another boy into the spider-web.
And of course, he was acutely aware that with the cameras, Bruce would probably have installed microphones in his room, and so at any moment, anything he said could be reaching Bruce's ears.
"Oh! Er..." Richard hesitated, making Dick's stomach drop, but then he laughed suddenly. "Sorry, of course that's fine, I was just thinking... It's Wayne Manor, you know? I guess it seems normal to you since you live there, but to the rest of us... I bet half the guys in my class would give anything for a chance to be alone with Bruce Wayne," and he laughed again, while Dick was reminded of everything he'd had taken from him while alone with Bruce.
"You might only see him for a second, you know, he's busy a lot," Dick replied, probably trying to convince himself that that was true more than anything else. He didn't know what Bruce was planning, but he knew enough to tell it wasn't anything good.
"Dick, that's fine, I'm going to be there to work with you, not to secure my future career," Richard reassured him, but Dick knew it really wasn't up to him.
The workers were gone just after lunch, about an hour before Richard was due to arrive. Bruce had had the new gym set up in what used to be the home cinema, one of the few downstairs rooms that was big enough, and no one really used it anyway. Unfortunately, the huge screen that covered one wall was still there, as were the various speakers, as there hadn't been time to take them down. It didn't feel much like a gym either, because the floor and walls were all still carpeted to give good acoustics, and the lighting was low. That being said, the equipment itself was impressive to say the least. Mirrors had been screwed onto the walls in places, and all the units were built out of the same silver metal and black plastic, except for the bars that needed to be wood - they looked pale and rough, fresh. The safety mats were still in their plastic wrapping, piled in the corner.
Dick looked around in awe. The things he could do with stuff like this.
"Do you like it?" spoke Bruce from the doorway behind Dick, making the boy spin around suddenly.
The man looked pleased with himself. He walked casually into the room, looking around as if surveying his good work.
Dick knew he had to appear suitably blown away. "Yes, thank you... It's great."
Bruce came closer. "I'm glad you like it."
Dick's guardian had been present all day, something that was unheard of in all the time the boy had been staying at Wayne Manor. He had been awake and ready in the morning to supervise the installation of the gym, he had eaten breakfast and lunch with Dick, staying at the table for much longer than usual. He seemed to always be hovering somewhere in the halls, lurking just outside of Dick's perception, but always with a keen eye on the boy.
And while Dick didn't want to say it, didn't want to dare to even think it, the man had been pleasant, possibly even nice. He had asked questions and made conversation with Dick at the table, and his presence felt more like a bored businessman on his day off taking a mild interest in his home life before he could go back to the office, instead of the looming, inescapable, shadowy threat that it usually was. Dick supposed this was probably what it could have been like if Bruce had been a good, fatherly guardian to him, instead of the brutal, selfish deviant he'd turned out to be.
"I hope it wasn't too... expensive..." Dick said uncertainly, turning to track Bruce as the man moved about the room in a tightening circle that was bringing him closer, and closer.
Bruce gave a dismissive wave and pulled a face, "Don't mention it, Dick, it was nothing," he replied. Dick had seen him make that exact motion and give variations on that phrase many times at publicised charity events at which the Wayne name found its way onto a hefty cheque. The boy knew it was fake, and he wondered what emotion the man was trying to hide. "I just hope this helps you to feel more... at home," Bruce finished.
An acidic taste came to Dick's mouth as he contemplated the impossibility of that ever happening.
'Is this is a pay-off for the cameras, you bastard? You know I know...' he thought bitterly.
The boy didn't say anything more as Bruce ended his spiralling tour of the room to stand in front of him. The man stood looking down at him.
"Dick..."
Bruce was interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway, and they both jerked to look. Alfred was primly standing there, hands behind his back, eyes unseeing.
"Master Richard has arrived, Sir. Shall I show him in?"
"He's here already?" Dick said in alarm before Bruce could reply, caught off guard. He checked his watch and saw that he'd lost track of the time. Dick hurried out of the room to the hall, where he found Richard waiting The blonde was dressed in a tight-fitting black t-shirt with the academy's logo over the heart, and loose black gym trousers, obviously prepared for a thorough training session. The dark colours went startlingly with his blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a back pack slung over his shoulder.
The blonde looked nervous standing in the middle of Wayne Manor's great hall, but he smiled when he saw Dick, who was cringing at the thought of his friend being greeted not by himself, but by the butler.
"Hey," said Richard, awkwardly adjusting his bag. He looked like maybe he was remembering the last time he was there, and knowing that Dick couldn't have forgotten in so little time.
"Hey," Dick replied, hoping to reassure him. Before he could say anything else though, Bruce came around the corner.
"Ah, Richard Rawn, I take it? I know of your father," he said, amiably striding in between the two boys and taking Richard's hand. The blonde looked utterly flustered and star-struck.
"Hello, Mr Wayne, thank you for having me, this is quiet a home you have," he said politely, looking the smallest Dick had ever seen him next to Bruce's bulk.
"Thank you, it's been in the family for generations," Bruce replied, looking up at the ceiling affectionately and finally releasing Richard's hand. "And it's no trouble at all having you over, Dick was looking forward to it, he's quite keen to break in the new gym and start showing you professionals a thing or two about gymnastics!"
This was a mask of Bruce's Dick had never seen before, the part of embarrassing, over-enthusiastic dad.
"The new gym?"
"Yes, we just had it installed recently, as soon as I heard Dick was on the team. I try to encourage him in anything he wants to do," Bruce explained, and he smiled again, as if he was having his picture taken at the end of every quotable sentence.
"But I thought Dick said he'd fallen-"
"Richard, why don't I show you my room, it's just this way," Dick said hurriedly, already making his way up the stairs.
"Oh, okay. It was nice meeting you, Mr Wayne," Richard excused himself, and caught up to Dick who, glancing at Bruce from the corner of his eye, saw the man watching them go intently, before turning and walking away. The boy forced back a shiver; something about Bruce's look or his posture gave Dick a bad feeling.
It was then that he realised his idiocy. It was the stupidest thing he could have done - taking Richard to his room where he knew there were cameras, probably microphones as well, but it had been the only thing he could think of to stop Richard before he said too much to Bruce. Obviously, Dick remembered telling the boys in the changing room that he had got the bruises on his body from falling off the bars when practicing, but Bruce had just revealed that the gym was younger than his membership on the team. He hoped Richard hadn't noticed the discrepancy, but something told him he wasn't so lucky.
"Hey Dick, didn't you say you'd fallen of the bars before?" Richard asked as he came up the stairs behind him.
"Oh yeah, well I was out of practice, you know," Dick replied without looking at the blonde, praying that his lie would be believed.
"But didn't Wayne just say you got the gym when you were accepted onto the team? So how could you have fallen off before your audition?" At the moment, Richard just had the tone of someone trying to clear up a misunderstanding, he didn't sound suspicious or wary yet, and Dick was thankful for that.
"I was so sure you guys would take me on, that I told Bruce I was accepted a few days early." Dick tried to make his voice sound cocky and light-hearted, but he couldn't judge how successful he was.
Richard didn't laugh as Dick would have expected him to if he'd been believed. "Right... Are you feeling okay? You're looking a little pale."
"I didn't sleep very well last night, that's all," Dick replied, surprised the older boy was paying close enough attention to him to notice the dark circles under his eyes.
"Well anyway, it's good we're going to your room, because I have something for you."
Dick eagerly jumped on the change of subject. "Yeah? What is it?"
"You'll see..." Richard teased.
Dick led the way to his bedroom. It felt strange to bring Richard upstairs, wrong to draw him further inside Wayne Manor, away from any doors, but he knew he was being ridiculous. Bruce would not attack Richard, or do anything that would send the teen running for the exit. He was too subtle for that.
When Dick opened the door, he had a sudden twinge of panic that he had left something incriminating out where Richard would see it. God knows he'd broken enough in that room to mean that in any other house there would still be loose wires hanging from the walls or broken glass sparkling on the floor. Only last night he had ripped the light fittings out, looking for cameras. But there wasn't a sign of that now. Presumably while he had been eating, when both he and Bruce had been downstairs, Alfred had fixed everything. There wasn't a thing an inch out of place. Dick didn't know if he was grateful for this, or if some part of him wanted Richard to see.
Dick made sure to close the door behind Richard, but he knew privacy was a joke in that house. The older boy was looking around from the middle of the room, polite, but not nosy. Then his gaze fell on the TV and his eyes bugged.
"Oh my God, Dick, what is that?" he said, walking up to it.
Dick wasn't sure how to answer; it was obviously a TV, so what response was Richard expecting?
"Jesus Christ, it's bigger than my dad's!" Richard continued, opening his arms as if he was about to hug the set, presumably trying to gage the size of it.
"Bruce bought it before I moved in, I guess he thought I would like it," Dick said, half-lying, since Bruce had bought it before Dick came, but it had been bought for him.
Richard then moved to the bookcase of DVDs, games and consoles. He tilted his head to read the spines and let out a low whistle. "Gears of War… That game has one mean multiplayer campaign. I never got past the- Oh." Richard paused as he slid the game off the shelf, only to find its wrapping unopened. He stared at it unsurely.
"Not a fan?" he asked after a short pause.
"Not really, I guess," Dick replied with a shrug, trying to appear natural. He suddenly remembered his little friendship fantasy he lost himself in days ago; him and Richard playing video games in his room and having fun like regular teenagers. Of course now even this was shattered by Bruce's controlling nature, no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise. He couldn't enjoy himself while he knew his guardian was watching.
"Well, if I was you I would just shut myself in this room until I had completed all these babies on hard mode, insane mode and time mode, that's for sure." He lovingly stroked the huge shelf and turned to face the other boy with a grin. "Good thing I'm not, huh?"
Dick tore his eyes away from the boy's hand, trying to think of a witty response ("You would get fat and geeky and kicked off the gymnasti-" no, that wasn't funny at all) but his heart wasn't in it.
"Yeah," he replied unsurely in the end. Ironically enough, during the past year, he had often wished that he could simply shut himself in his bedroom, the way Richard described and stay in it forever, never having to come out to face his guardian's harsh eyes. As a result, he spent most of his time in his room, but not enjoying himself with the TV or games the way Richard jokingly proposed. He spent most of it studying, or just doing nothing. The real reason was that he didn't like the rest of the house, where Bruce or Alfred could appear out of nowhere and make demands of him. He stayed in his room because he was hiding, because he had thought he was safe there. But he knew that had been naive. It wasn't only Alfred that came to his room anymore, nor did the butler still always knock. Bruce had come to his room now as well, in the middle of the night, and they had... tainted his safe place. And there were fucking cameras that had recorded the whole thing. Dick wondered if Bruce had saved the tapes, if he ever took them out and jerked off to them, thinking about how he could make the boy do anything...
"Geez, you got a bathroom and a walk-in and everything, this is ridiculous," Richard said, sticking his head into Dick's closet. Dick couldn't agree with him more - it was ridiculous, but that didn't stop him from suddenly feeling burdened by all of the expensive objects. Richard had no idea how much money Bruce really put into him every day - or the reason why.
He wanted to say something but his thoughts made him clumsy and awkward and he sat on his desk chair, ashamed by his luxurious room. As if realizing the reason for his silence, Richard immediately turned back to Dick, shutting the closet door with a snap, and changed the subject. He probably thought he'd been rude. Dick wished it was as simple as that.
"Anyway, here's your present. Well, it's more of a loan really, I don't know if it's going to fit, and we'll get you your own in a couple of weeks..." The blonde pulled something out of his bag that looked like a thin, dark cloth, but when he shook it out and offered it to Dick, the boy realised it was the uniform for the school's gymnastic team. He took it gingerly, and felt that it was made from good material. It was in no way cheap, and was almost certainly custom made. Richard looked awkward, unsure of Dick's reaction.
"We had a spare, so I thought maybe you'd like-"
"No! No, it's great, thanks. I'll, er, I'll go try it on," Dick replied, trying to reassure the blonde that he did appreciate the gift. And he did; belonging to the team was important to him, and the uniform represented a level of acceptance that had been one of his main reasons for joining.
Richard smiled at him. "Okay then," he said, and Dick moved past him to change in the closet.
As Dick began pulling off his own clothes and working himself into the lycra, he tried to banish his dark mood and focus on having a good time with Richard, but it was hard. Bruce had already commandeered the visit, and Dick could feel mechanical eyes burning on his back.
"Hey, Dick?" he heard Richard call to him from his room.
"Yeah?" he replied, tugging his shirt over his head.
"Can I ask you something? About the circus?"
"Er, okay..." Dick said hesitantly, pulling down his trousers.
"How come, in a lot of the Youtube videos, they call you 'Robin'? I mean, it was just something I noticed before, and I've been meaning to ask you but I keep forgetting."
From the sound of Richard's voice, the boy was moving around, as he got quieter and louder, changing from left to right.
"Oh, well," Dick was surprised to discover he didn't actually mind telling Richard about it. "Because we were the Flying Graysons, my parents had this thing about nicknames. My dad's pet name for my mom had always been 'Dove' since as long as I can remember, and she used to tease him for being like a rooster, up at dawn, cocky, that sort of thing," He bunched the legs of the uniform up in his hands so he could pull them on easily, and sat down on the floor to do it. "So when I came along, they called me 'Robin', 'cause I was small and bounced around in my little red outfit, and it just kind of stuck." Dick pulled the leotard up over his chest and set it on his shoulders, getting rid of the twists and kinks.
"Oh right, so it was like a stage name?" Richard replied.
"I guess, if you want to call it that."
When Dick was finished, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. After not wearing anything like it for so long, and before that only associating leggings with the Flying Graysons, the dark colours of the leotard gave Dick the momentary impression that he was wearing the mourning version of his circus outfit. It felt morbid to be wearing such a thing again, and he found it very fitting that when he did finally put tights on again, they were black.
Other than that, the leotard was no more or less revealing than the one he had worn in the circus, but he guessed he had just become more self-conscious after having his body systematically abused by Bruce for close to a year, because he didn't feel as comfortable in it as he used to. The material was, of course, skin-tight, and it left his arms and quite a large scoop of his chest bare. And then of course, there were the bruises, still faintly visible on his arms and shoulders. Dick really didn't want Richard to see them after the conversation they'd just had on the stairs, but what could he do? He couldn't put a jumper on and pretend to be self-conscious about his chest when his ass and crotch weren't exactly decent in this thing. He'd just have to try to keep Richard from noticing, if that was possible.
"You know, I still have my Flying Graysons uniform, if you want to see it," he called. He went under the racks of clothes and pulled out the battered and worn bag he had brought with him from the temporary foster home he had stayed in before his parent's funeral. At the bottom of it, crumpled and neglected, was his uniform. He held it in his hand for a moment and watched as it still tried to sparkle, as if it didn't know it would never see the circus again.
He stepped out of the closet and Richard looked up at him. He moved over to the bed and laid the red and green leotard on top of it, smoothing it out tenderly. The gold R on the chest was so familiar, but so foreign to his life now, that it felt like he was remembering it from a dream. Richard looked over Dick's shoulder.
"Wow..." he said, suitably impressed. "You really were famous weren't you? That's so weird."
"Yeah, we were..." Lost in nostalgia, it took a moment before Dick noticed Richard standing back to look at him, his arms crossed over his chest, a pose Dick was coming to associate with Richard when he was acting as Team Captain more than his friend.
"It looks good on you, the new uniform. Does it fit alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, pretty much," Dick replied, turning away from the bed to face him, feeling awkward.
"Is it the kind of thing you're used to?"
"Oh, yeah, I mean the Flying Graysons' were more... sparkly," Dick couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing at the leotard on the bed, but he honestly couldn't think of another way to put it. "But it's basically the same. It's good, I like it. Thanks."
"No problem. If it fits, we don't have to order a new one, so that's less hassle for everyone. Try moving around in it."
Dick bent over and touched his toes, then did a few of his morning stretches while Richard looked on, at a loss of what else to do to test out the new uniform. Richard was looking confused, making Dick paranoid that his usual stretches were out of the ordinary somehow - he had to admit they weren't quite like the ones the team had done on Wednesday.
"Seems perfect to me," Richard nodded approvingly, and Dick straightened up, brushing his hair back with an excited smile on his face. He gathered his Flying Graysons uniform up in one hand and turned to put it back in the bag at the bottom of his closet. He had made sure the bag was out of sight, self-conscious about the story it told.
"You can still see all those bruises though."
Dick froze for a moment after Richard spoke behind him, but then he resumed moving, completing his task. He had been stupid to turn his back and give Richard a free view of the marks on his body. The older boy seemed to be waiting patiently for a response when Dick emerged from the closet and shut the door behind him.
The blonde took a step closer and Dick tried to turn so that he wouldn't be able to see the blemishes, muttering something dismissive, but Richard had cornered him between his body and the wall; there wasn't space to move away without it being obvious. "You're going to have to try not to fall off any more bars."
Richard's tone, and the way he was watching Dick's face, said he still didn't quite believe that that was how Dick had got hurt. It made Dick angry – for so many reasons. He was angry that Richard was trying to get answers to something he clearly didn't want to explain; he was angry that everybody, even Richard himself, seemed to be trying to ensure that the visit wasn't going to be a fun and easy one; and he was angry that he was never able to just forget about what Bruce was doing to him.
"Well, that's what this practice is about, isn't it?" he replied, finally moving past Richard to stand in the middle of the room. The older boy turned and looked at him and let out an angry sigh, as if coming to some sort of decision he didn't want to act on. His expression said that Dick dodging him had only reinforced his suspicions, and now he looked at him with a sort of authoritative, pleading sympathy. His voice was loud in the silence of the room.
"This isn't the first time I've seen those, Dick. Even before the locker room, I…" He seemed to be struggling to find a way to breach the subject. "What I mean is, I understand if you want to- Agh," he ruffled his hair in frustration and Dick could feel his heartbeat speeding up as he recognised a very bad situation coming his way.
Richard looked away and finally spoke calmly, apparently having collected himself. "I guess I'm trying to say that… you can trust me." When he got no response from the younger boy, he tried again. "You can tell me. About the bruises."
Not even considering the implication of the words, Dick's mouth opened as if on its own and started denying everything. "Look, I don't know what you think this is but I told you-"
"Dick! My dad's slept with half of Victoria's Secret, and my mom's the only person I know that doesn't think she's an alcoholic. You think I'm proud of that? You think I go around telling everyone? I lie and deny, and I like to think that I know when the same's being done to me... So just… trust me," he repeated firmly, and took another step towards Dick, as if he could bring himself closer to the truth by closing the physical gap between them. "I won't tell anyone..."
Dick was almost panicking. Clearly, Richard suspected. What, he wasn't sure. Richard might just think Bruce hit him, or maybe he was a self-harming orphan, or maybe Alfred pushed him down the stairs... Or maybe he suspected the truth of what was happening.
And what if he did? Was that something Dick wanted? In the beginning, he had wanted desperately for someone to find out, to rescue him and punish Bruce, so that he wouldn't be so alone anymore. But now that it might actually happen, it might be too late. Dick had done things... He'd given himself up, done exactly what Bruce wanted without a struggle, more than once, and he'd been punished... If someone found out, could he live with the shame of that? Did he still deserve to be rescued?
And of course, he had been taught time and time again, that you can never beat Bruce Wayne. If Richard tried, he would lose, and Dick didn't want that, didn't want something bad to happen to his friend because of him.
But what could he do? He didn't know how to convince Richard everything was fine without looking even more suspicious, and what was more, if he lied about what was happening to him, then he would be defending Bruce, defending the monster that had ripped him apart and played with the little pieces he found inside, and that was something he had never thought he could do, not even at the price of protecting his only friend.
Dick didn't know what to do, and the longer he hesitated, the more he confirmed Richard's suspicion that something was terribly wrong inside Wayne Manor.
Suddenly, however, there was a sharp knock on the door, making the dark-haired boy jump. Alfred let himself in, not waiting for a reply, and met Dick's eyes.
"Master Dick, Master Bruce requires your presence for a moment," he said.
A part of Dick was grateful for the distraction, but for the most part, he knew better. How did Alfred know to come in right when Richard was trying to get him to talk? Bruce was obviously watching - and listening – through the bugs in his room. It made Dick wonder where Bruce actually kept the screens and other equipment that must be connected to all the cameras and microphones throughout the house, where he was watching from.
Did this mean Bruce was angry with him? But it wasn't his fault, he hadn't said anything yet...
"Right, er, sorry Richard, I'll be right back," Dick said, walking out of the room. Alfred bowed to Richard and pulled the door to.
He turned to Dick in the corridor and said in a low voice; "Master Bruce is waiting for you in the west wing study."
"The we-? Alfred, he can't be serious!"
Dick knew the west wing study as "the forbidden room". There was only one reason that Bruce ever invited him there, but he couldn't be after that now, could he? Not when Richard was in the house!
"Master Dick, you know it is best not to keep Master Bruce waiting," Alfred advised. "I will show Master Richard to the gymnasium to wait."
'Fuck you, fuck all of you...' Dick thought violently as he made his way to the forbidden room. Couldn't they let him have one little thing to himself? Were there no limits at all? Of course not, it was a stupid question. Bruce got off on the control he had over the boy, so Dick's one opportunity to spend a day like a normal kid and be happy was just an opportunity to make the game a little more interesting to Bruce.
He knocked on the imposing oak door, and listened as Bruce invited him in.
"Come in, Dick."
Dick pushed the handle and stepped inside the dark room. Until then, he had been angry, ready to try to talk Bruce out of it, but inside the forbidden room, the musky smell brought up memories of tears and blood and screams that stole all his courage and made him feel like a scared child.
He moved to close the door behind him but Bruce stopped him. "Leave the door ajar for now," he said.
"What? But Richard-"
"What about Richard?" Bruce interrupted him sharply, his tone instantly making Dick reconsider his words. He let his hand slip from the door handle with a shaft of light still shining onto the floor from the hallway. It crossed the room and sat on Bruce's shoulder where he leant against the desk, leaving his face still a mask of shadows.
Dick took a step forward. What did Bruce want? What did he expect from Dick when his friend was a potential witness? Or was that the point? Bruce had made him leave the door open so that Dick wouldn't be able to forget the possibility that his future happiness might be ripped away from him if Richard chose to explore the famous Wayne Manor. Bruce wanted Dick to be afraid during the act to come, only this time he wouldn't be afraid of the man himself. Dick couldn't decided whether Bruce wanted to torture him for his own amusement, to distract the boy from his own evil for once, or if the man genuinely hoped they would be discovered, ensuring that Dick would never have anyone else to rely on. Any way it was sick and twisted and Dick hated him for it.
"Is that your new uniform?" Bruce asked in his deep voice. Dick nodded, suddenly feeling a shiver. "It looks good on you," said the man. Richard had said exactly the same thing less than twenty minutes ago, but that hadn't made the boy's skin crawl as if ghostly hands were already violating him.
"Come here," Bruce said, and he shifted his position on the desk, sitting back on it. He held out a hand and Dick went into arm's reach of him. The man put his hand on Dick's shoulder and gently indicated that the boy was to go on his knees.
Dick sunk obediently down, not seeing the point in fighting this time. He'd fought before and never won, and if he was resisting to be able to say that it was rape every single time, could he still say that now after selling his body for the gymnastics team, and after coming into his tormentor's hands? Besides, he could fight, but then it would all take that much longer, and the longer he was gone, the higher the odds of Richard coming looking for him became. And if Richard started asking questions at a few faded bruises from weeks ago, what would he do when Dick returned bleeding and in pain? Any ruckus could bring Richard to the door. Dick had to keep this quiet and quick.
"Are you happy here with me?" Bruce asked him.
The hand on his shoulder moved to push through the boy's hair, as the other hand worked his guardian's belt and fly open. This was all so humiliating, so disgracing and so distasteful, Dick still had that flash of panic and nausea as he thought of Bruce exposing himself right in front of his face, and then of taking that organ into his mouth, but he fought those things down. It could be so much worse.
The hand in his hair pushed his head down and Dick got to work with one thought in his head; he had to get this over with quickly and get downstairs before Richard wondered where he was. With that in mind, he sucked hard on Bruce's thick flesh, employing tongue and teeth, moving up and down while Bruce sighed huskily and leaned back on the desk. Dick brought his hands up to grip and massage every area his mouth wasn't reaching. It wasn't the first time that Dick had wanted Bruce to just come so that it would be over, but it was the first time he was actively trying to give his guardian pleasure to achieve this. It felt so wrong, thinking about how everything he was doing would feel, and how he could improve his technique to make the man feel even more.
Bruce moved again, leaning forward this time, bending over Dick as he sucked. Massaging the back of the boy's neck with his rough fingers, he spoke in a low voice that would have had any girl falling on her back; "Moan while you're doing that."
Dick was so disgusted at being given instructions that he almost let go, but he remembered himself, and what was at stake if he didn't achieve his end, so he recovered his rhythm with only a beat skipped. He pretended not to hear his guardian – the last thing he wanted was to make noise.
"I'll come if you moan with me in your mouth," Bruce insisted. "I know that's what you want, you've never been this good before."
Dick almost gagged, but he did it. He moaned quietly, shifting his position on the floor as his legs began to get sore.
Bruce grunted and slung his legs over Dick's shoulders as he sat on the desk, pinning the boy in position.
"Louder," he said, and Dick didn't like the smug tone in his voice. The Wayne heir knew he had won. Dick knew enough to recognise when Bruce was planning something, and the man had already revealed that he knew that Dick was over-performing in the hopes of getting him to come quickly, and the obvious reason for this was Richard. Dick would be surprised if Bruce took the knowledge that the boy's priority was someone else very well.
Dick cursed the man, fighting the urge to bite him, as he was told to moan louder. It really did seem that Bruce wanted Richard to discover them, if not through sight then sound, and ruin the boys' relationship. Either that, or he wanted Dick to think that was what he wanted, to torture him. However, he obeyed and moaned again, as loud as he dared this time.
Bruce chuckled, his leg flexing next to Dick's face. "Louder," he said again, then, in a darker, more spiteful tone, "So your little friend can hear you."
Dick gasped in shock at the maliciousness in Bruce's voice, and the open statement that Bruce was well aware of the possibility of, maybe even a desire for, Richard finding them like that. But inhaling through his mouth was a bad idea, and as he began to choke and struggled to breathe, Bruce seized his head and thrust into his mouth, carelessly fucking him until he came down Dick's windpipe.
As soon as he released Dick, the boy fell to the floor, coughing up semen onto the carpet until his throat was raw and his face was red. By the time he could breathe again, Bruce had zipped himself up and was now sitting casually on the desk, watching his ward on the floor.
Dick stood up, trying not to glare at Bruce, or attack him, or any of the other dangerous things he wanted so badly to do to him.
"You don't need Alfred, do you?" Bruce asked, almost concerned.
"No," Dick replied darkly, and he understood himself to be dismissed. He walked out of the forbidden room and pulled the door shut as he left, closing the Wayne heir in that dark room. He dusted the lint and mess from his uniform as he walked down the corridors, but he didn't go straight to the gym, instead he headed for the nearest bathroom.