Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations all characters find themselves in. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

Art Speaks

'Art speaks where words are unable to explain.' Threadless Artist Mathiole

Blake had no problems remembering his first official homicide. The victim had been a drug dealer by the name of Jerry Knickson, street name Fuzz. He'd been found sliced and diced to pieces in an alleyway, a drug deal gone wrong. The officer he'd been patrolling with when they'd arrived on scene had been sick as a dog over that body as he recalled. He'd only just been able to wrench the rookie to the side before the kid heaved the contents of his stomach all over the victim's torso. It had been a close call though, and Blake hadn't been surprised in the least to hear that the kid had washed out a few months later.

The lieutenant who'd come to take over the scene had advised the rookie to go home to his girlfriend and drown it out with sex. That, the older man had told them both, was the best way to handle it since booze and bottling it up would end them and their careers that much faster.

Naturally he'd shrugged that advice off. He'd been a cocky little son of a bitch and Blake knew he'd thought less of both men for their reactions and responses. A cop was supposed to be tougher than that, in his younger self's opinion, and if they couldn't handle it they needed to grow a set or find another profession.

Of course he and his brother had been born into a world full of violence, death, and the destruction of human life. And while his life had gotten infinitely better since his so called 'childhood', and he had felt some pity for the twenty something man who'd lost his life, Blake's stomach had remained solid, his head and focus clear. He hadn't needed to blot out what he'd seen that night. He'd seen worse.

Now fastforward nearly a decade and Blake was forced to acknowledge with brutal self-honesty that if he didn't do something to block out what he'd seen two hours before he'd probably do something really unadvised with lasting consequences. It was just one of those cases.

The Boondocks were a gang on the rise. Word on the street was that the only way in was to either prove yourself in battle by surviving a fight against their best enforcers or by providing them with something they really wanted.

Someone like seventeen year old Scott Dexter hadn't had the muscle or the skill to stand even a chance in hell against one trained street fighter, much less four or five of them. He also hadn't had the connections or money to secure drugs, weapons, or even a valuable piece of information about anything worth passing along to them. In other words he'd had nothing to offer and should have been beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead for even approaching the Boondocks with the suggestion he might be allowed to join their ranks. And he would have been if not for one Elise Wilks, age sixteen, who up until her death had been a student at the same school as Dexter.

Elise was now dead and being processed at the morgue because before she'd been repeatedly raped, beaten, and then choked to death she'd borne an uncanny resemblance to Scarlett Johansson. And unfortunately for her the leader of the Boondocks was known to be a big fan of that particular actress. Enough of a fan that when Dexter had shown up with the girl he'd drugged and kidnapped to try and use her to bargain his way into the gang he'd taken a bullet to the head rather than being beaten to death for his insolence.

Word of what had gone done had leaked onto the streets, it always did eventually, and someone had sent an anonymous email to the police telling them what he or she knew about the girl's fate. Including where what was left of Elise Wilks had been tossed, like garbage, down a garbage shoot in a long abandoned apartment building with Dexter.

At least someone had cared enough, had been decent enough to believe the girl deserved better than that as her final resting place.

Now he had to get justice for her. Or at least try to.

First though, he had to see her parents and tell them their little girl wasn't coming home to them.

)

Clean sweat ran down his body, the smell of it thick in the air as Bane's muscles flexed and trembled ever so slightly. But the burn of muscles pushed to their limit soothed Bane as much as the mindless repetition of the weights he lifted above his head in his home gym. He worked out every night, always demanding that much more of his body as he found new ways to make himself stronger. A faster, stronger, more deadly human weapon. He would never again be weak. He'd choose death first.

When the phone he kept close went off it was a simple matter to set the set of weights back in place and then check to see who the call was coming from. In this case it was very much someone Bane wanted to talk to so he accepted the call while reaching for the ear piece that would allow him to talk to his bird and finish up his workout at the same time.

"Hello, Robin."

"Hi."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Bane asked as he settled back into place, reaching for the weights once more.

"A friend of mine was able to get me tickets to a play next Saturday night. Available?"

Instinct had Bane ignoring that question in favor of asking the cop if he was all right. Why he wasn't sure exactly, but his instincts said something was wrong with Robin.

"Well my plan for the evening was to get drunk off my ass with Eames while watching bad television, only my grandfather found me first. So he beat the crap out of me and now I'm soaking in the tub with a really nice glass of wine. Fuck I hurt everywhere."

"He did what?"

"Calm down, Sexy. Kicking my ass was the lesser of the two evils. And it worked. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Even the thought of moving hurts."

Setting the weights once again in place, Bane sat up with blood in his eyes. "Explain."

"Crap day at work. Desensitized isn't the right word, but it's rare that this city throws something at me that I can't handle. What one human being can do to another…well we know, don't we? We expect it at this point. But every once in a while a case will come along and I need a bit of…numbing? Sex, booze or beating the shit out of something or someone are usually the best ways to do that. And I was tempted to call and ask you to fuck my brains out, so don't feel left out. But I was able to talk myself out of that one. Getting drunk with Eames would have costed less in the long run."

A groan came through clearly. "I'm trying to tell myself that this is better than the hangover."

"Your grandfather recognized your distress and forced you into physical combat as an alternative to drinking or sex." He approved of that.

"Exactly. Eames promised to rub me down after the bath."

Bane growled even knowing that that was the reaction Blake wanted from him.

The laughter in Robin's voice proved it. "Purely medicinal, I assure you. Arthur would have his balls for next year's Christmas tree otherwise."

"Interesting visual."

"It is, isn't it? So what are you up to, Sexy? Making more billions? Doing a 'Pinky and the Brain'?"

"A what?"

"'Pinky and the Brain'. The cartoon?" Blake's voice went oddly squeaky for a moment. "What are we going to do tonight, Brain?" A deeper voice. "The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!"

Bane could enjoy the sound of Blake's laughter, even if it was probably at his expense.

"Do you need me to sing you the theme song? It's pretty catchy." Blake started humming through the phone, the tune irritating rather than 'catchy' in Bane's opinion.

"I have no interest in ruling the world. It's a pointless endeavor."

"Exactly. I knew you weren't just a pretty face. So what are you doing?"

"I was lifting weights when you called."

"Oh man. Seriously? Are you sweaty and half naked? Oh, and lying on a bench with the bar above your head that I could hold onto while-nevermind. Though at least I'm already naked. That does make jerking off while imagining what you look like now a LOT easier."

Intellectually he'd know that Robin was in the tub. Robin had said as much earlier in the conversation. But how Bane was picturing it. Imagining the other man sprawled out in the tub, on display in all his naked glory, with those long, elegant fingers wrapped around his aroused cock as he jerked himself off to thoughts of the two of them having sex on the very bench Bane was sitting on.

"Fuck."

A husky chuckle came through the phone. As well as the sound of a cap being popped open?

"Such language, Mr. Bane. Really."

"You are not jerking yourself off over the phone."

"Oh but I most certainly am." Robin all but purred out the words, which Bane didn't doubt for a second was deliberate on the other man's part. "Going nice and easy too, which isn't normally my style but…I am trying not to move too much. But if you're worried, I just added some nice bath oil that's making the glide…very nice."

"You aren't so big that I can't turn you over my knee."

"It would take a hell of a man to get me to stay still for that."

"When the time comes you'll stay where I put you and like it."

"It'll be my pleasure to see you try-rah." A telling hitch of breath that came through over the phone. "Mhmmm. And if you don't want me jerking off, Bane…how about I put my fingers in my ass instead? I'll have to turn onto my side, and it'll hurt a bit, but a little pain isn't always a bad thing. Not that I'd insult you by suggesting that a few of my fingers can equal what you're packing in your gym shorts. Are you wearing gym shorts, Bane?"

Looking down at the simple black shorts in question, which were now tented, Bane cursed again.

Then the sound of something being sent to his phone had Bane turning his attention to the cell phone on the table just as Robin informed him that he'd sent him a present.

Awareness was running up his spine even before he accessed the picture, Bane's attention immediately caught and held by the image of Robin's wet abs, bubbles clinging to the man's narrow chest and the legs sprawled open to act as a frame for the hand fisted around Robin's just visible cock.

The attachment heading was 'I showed you mine. Show me yours.'

Son of a bitch

Setting the phone aside Bane forced his voice to remain cool as he stated that Robin was going to regret teasing him this way when he saw him next.

"Promises, promises. So for now…talk to me. I'm close."

"Robin?"

"Bane. Please?" Robin drew out the please in a way guaranteed to make Bane's shudder.

Bane had never had phone sex before. He'd never seen the point. But he couldn't put his hands on his naughty bird right now. And right now, as much as Robin deserved to be left hanging, Bane wanted to be the cause of Robin's orgasm. Wanted to know that every gasp and groan was for him. Wanted to hear Robin call out his name when he came.

"I'm going to tie your wrists to my headboard." Bane told him as he undid the strings keeping the gym shorts around his waist. "Then I'm going to straddle your waist and just watch you. I'll make you squirm and strain under me, Little Bird, while you demand to be touched and fucked. But I won't. I'll make you beg for me, and even then I'll just touch you with my fingers, mapping out every inch of your body right up until I lean forward and sink my teeth into the spot where your lovely throat meets your shoulder. Then I'll work the skin there until I'm satisfied that there will be a mark there for days. Hot and throbbing and-"

The sound of his name echoing off tiled walls was music to Bane's ears.

)

Fuck but he'd needed that. He was going to hurt soon enough, no question there, but right now Blake was boneless and riding an excellent orgasm high. Bane wasn't talking to him anymore though, which was a shame. Especially since he had a policy of always returning the favor. And Bane was still on the line too. He could hear his harsh breathing through the ear piece.

And it was a good thing he was using an ear piece, or his cell would have ended up in the tub with him earlier. But back to the man he wanted to get his hands on.

"So, Bane. Want me to tell you what I'd do to you if I had you tied to MY headboard? Or better yet…want me to tell you what I'd do if I was there right now with you? What I'd do if I could order you to wrap your fingers around that steel bar above your head. I'd tell you to keep them there, you know. And if you did, if you're good for me and do exactly what I say, Bane…well then I'd pull your shorts down and blow you."

The way Bane said his name had Blake smiling knowingly.

"Would you be good for me, Bane? Would you keep your hands where I told you to keep them?"

"As long as it suited me to do so."

Big surprise there.

"What if I let you tell me what to do? Like exactly how you wanted me to put my mouth on your pretty cock. How maybe you want me to lick you right up like a lollipop? Or trace my tongue along every vein just to tease you a little. Get a taste for you. Do you like to be teased, Bane? Or would you prefer to find out for yourself just how deep I can take you into my smart mouth? Hell, if you asked me really, really nicely, and were a very good boy, I might even let you fuck my mouth. How's that sound?"

Bane's voice was definitely on the strained side when he spoke, though Blake was willing to give him props for trying to hide it. "I am not one of your boys that you can wrap around your finger so easily."

"I just said I'd be happy to wrap my mouth and tongue around your cock, Bane. Or are you only happy if I promise to wrap my legs around your waist while you fuck me? If I can manage it. My legs are long, but I'm not quite sure they're up to that. I might need those big, strong hands of yours on my ass to keep me in place."

"Tomorrow you are coming home with me. And then I will make you very sorry you decided to tease me this way."

"Sorry, but I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. Gang members to sweat, clues to gather, and then Eames and I are going to the movies. A bribe for the massage he's promised me. Which reminds me I should text him that I haven't drowned in here soon. He'll be coming back to check on me. Be a dear and jack off for me? I bet you sound sexy as hell when you come. Then I'll text Eames."

"Do not bring up another man now."

He'd already made it clear that he and Eames weren't interested in having sex with each other. And while he could remind Bane of that fact, well an argument would ruin the mood. He'd already gotten off, yeah, but Blake also really, really wanted to hear Bane come for him.

"Come for me, Bane. Please."

The pause was just long enough for Blake to straighten up with the intention of grabbing his phone from the pile of towels he'd dropped it on earlier.

"I will come. But you don't get to hear it. Not until it's in person."

The bastard hung on him.

Jaw dropping a little, Blake retrieved the phone to confirm the fact that Bane had deliberately hung up on him. Which he had.

"Why you…"

Shaking his head, he should have seen that coming, Blake blew out a breath and then tossed the phone back onto the towels, followed by his ear piece.

If Bane called back he wasn't answering. It would serve him right.

Belatedly remembering that he'd meant to text Eames so that the Englishman would get over his worry that he'd seize up and somehow drown in the tub on his watch, Blake considered and discarded the idea of reaching for the phone again. Or staying in the tub for that matter. Between the orgasm and the bath water he was about as relaxed as he was going to get. Might as well get out of the water, get his pajama bottoms on, and then track Eames down for the massage he'd promised him.

As if summoned, a knock came at the door as Blake reached for the sides of the tub.

"Knock, knock!"

Willing to be amused Blake rolled his eyes as he asked who was there.

"You know."

"You know who?"

"Really, Blake? I would have thought you had the balls to call him by his real name."

Laughing, Blake called Eames a wanker as he got to his feet. Slowly and carefully, just to be on the safe side. "I'm just trying to avoid the Snatchers!"

"So I take it you're still alive then?"

"Yup. Pretty sure. Be out in a minute."

"Ta."