Chapter 6 - Yell
"I can't believe you let her stay!" Bruce yelled the moment the front door shut. "You let her see me humiliated and she'll never let me forget it. You are the most evil, most despicable man I've ever met."
"And you," Clark began spanking him again, "are the most inconsiderate, selfish man I ever met."
Bruce felt more tears falling out of his eyes, but he just yelled, "Selfish? You're selfish, jackass."
"I came here for a nice relaxing weekend with my boyfriend," Clark slammed his hand down harder, making Bruce's whole body lurch forward with the impact. "Instead, I find you trying to kiss your ex-lover and hide her in the closet. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" Clark's voice grew angry for the last question and he unleashed such a torrent of swats that Bruce stopped breathing for a second.
A moment later, he dragged air into his starved lungs and gave a loud, long wail of pain. "I'm sorry," he almost screamed. "I'm sorry!"
"Do you still have feelings for her?" Clark demanded.
"Yes! No! I don't know," Bruce was choking on his sobs. "She's meant something to me for so long – I can't stop thinking about her when I see her."
"Do you think about her other times? Throughout the day? At work?" Clark asked, delivering two more hard slaps.
"I used to, but now I think about you," Bruce was starting to shake with the intensity of his emotions.
Clark had lifted his hand to spank Bruce again, but he paused, hand still in the air. "You – you do? You think about me instead of her, in that way?"
"Yes," Bruce cried, "yes. I used to doodle cats during my – my meetings. But now I draw S's in that diamond shape thing that you wear."
Clark wanted to relent, but he said, "You should be paying attention in meetings, not drawing."
"I know, but I miss you during the week and it helps until I can see you," Bruce lowered his head as he kept crying.
Clark felt the inside of his chest grow warm and he remembered why he loved the big lug over his lap so much.
"Ten more and we're done," Clark promised.
"No," Bruce wailed and he kept wailing as Clark laid down ten more slaps from that untiring arm.
After Cark was done, Bruce did not move. He lay still, but hiccupped softly.
"Shh," Clark soothed a hand over his boyfriend's sweaty hair. "We're done now. You can get up now."
Bruce was trembling so hard that he could only push himself up a few inches. Clark reached down and set him up on his feet. Seeing Bruce's pants around his ankles, Clark bend and pulled them up, fastening them up quickly.
Bruce looked stunned, but he reached up to swipe his fingers over his face. He seemed amazed that he had tears on his cheeks and he stared at his damp fingers, surprised that he actually remembered how to cry after so many years of stoicism.
Clark had to stop himself from smiling. Every time he punished Bruce, the hardened man was astonished that he could cry. One more wonderful, precious thing about him.
"How do you feel?" Clark asked.
Bruce glared at him. "Shut up," he ordered. "You know how I feel."
"You'll be sore for a little while, but you'll be fine by Monday," Clark assured him. He opened his arms up to his boyfriend.
Bruce snarled and turned away, his typical response to any sign of affection. But as he walked away, Clark zoomed around him so fast that Bruce did not see, and he ended up walking straight into Clark's chest.
"Oomph!" Bruce hit the rock-hard chest, but before he could move away, Clark had his arms around him, pulling Bruce in for a tight hug.
"There we go," Clark soothed. "You're going to be all right."
"Get off me, you asshole," Bruce yelled into Clark's shoulder.
Clark drew back and gave him a careful look that made Bruce swallow nervously. "Are we going to have to work on your language? Going to have to resort to my pa's old method of dealing with a naughty mouth?"
As Mr. Kent's method had been soaping out a mouth for swearing, Bruce hastily shook his head.
"Then I suggest you hug me and stop pushing me away before I take off my belt," Clark's eyes were like blue ice.
Bruce immediately stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Clark's chest. For a moment, Bruce felt enraged, but when Clark's arms circled around his shoulders and drew him closer, Bruce relented and leaned his head on Clark's hard shoulder.
"You're going to be all right," Clark assured him. "It's all right to feel conflicted. But you have to talk to me. I'll never know what you feel unless you tell me. And if I have to do this until you're eighty, so be it – whatever it takes to get through to you."
"You're not spanking me when I'm eighty," Bruce declared, but he didn't move out of the hug.
"We'll see," Clark smiled. "All right, are we going to have to talk anymore about this?"
Bruce shook his head.
"No more hiding things from me? No more lying?"
"No," Bruce replied.
"You're going to be a good boy now?" Clark said, unable to keep the teasing note out of his voice. He felt Bruce squirm against him, annoyed at being talked to like a child. "You're going to be fine. Okay, you hungry?"
Bruce slowly stepped back from Clark and wiped away the last of his tears. "No, I don't want anything."
Clark resisted the urge to sigh. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Lunch, and I had a lot of food. I'll eat later, just not now. Jeez, Clark, my ass is on fire. How am I ever going to get in the suit and ride in the Batmobile?"
"You're not going on patrol tonight," Clark told him.
"Yes, I am," Bruce drew himself up though it made his bottom ache in protest. "It's barely after seven, and I wanted to patrol until two."
"What time did you patrol to last night?" Clark asked.
"Um, I think about midnight."
"I can call Alfred and ask."
"Fine, three! Are you happy?" Bruce looked away disgruntled, but inside he was praying that Clark did not consider this to be lying as well. His rear end could not stand anymore punishment.
"Hardly. And you were up by six to go to work, I'm sure. The night before – how late?"
"Two," Bruce admitted.
"And the night before that?"
"Four."
"Bruce!"
"Hey, I was chasing Two-Face forever through the Narrows. And once I got him back to Arkham, he realized he had lost his two-headed coin and he went into hysterics so I had to go back and find it and then they had to sedate him because all the over inmates were getting upset and it took a long time."
"And that's why you're going to bed now," Clark announced. He stepped forward to plant a soft kiss on Bruce's sweaty forehead. "I'll patrol, but you are going to get some sleep if it's the last thing you do."
Bruce opened his mouth to tell Clark that he was not going to bed, but Clark moved suddenly, and then next thing Bruce knew, he was cradled in Clark's arms and being carried out of the family room.
"Let me down," Bruce ordered. "I can walk by myself – Clark, this looks ridiculous."
"Actually you look pretty good in my arms," Clark smiled down at him. "I may carry you around all weekend, when I'm not keeping you snug in bed."
Bruce muttered under his breath, but he was careful not to swear out loud.
"Here we go," Clark carried Bruce into the bedroom and set him down on his feet again before beginning to unbutton Bruce's shirt.
Usually, Bruce loved it when Clark undressed him though he would never admit it to Clark. Sometimes Clark took his time, dragging each button out of its buttonhole slowly and pausing in between to kiss Bruce or tousle his hair; sometimes Clark undressed him a super-speed leaving Bruce dizzy from moving so fast. But tonight, Bruce felt irritated. It was bad enough to be spanked like a child, but to be undressed like one -!
"What do you think? Should I give you a bath, too?" Clark asked, tilting his head to side.
Any other time, that would have been the beginning to hours of torrid sex, but right now Bruce jerked away to unbutton his own shirt.
"No, I had a shower this morning."
"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning note, "tell me what's wrong."
"I screwed up, okay?" Bruce shot back. "And you punished me, I get that. But you don't have to treat me like a child just because you're stronger than me. You don't have to carry me around and undress me and bathe me and put me to bed –" To his horror, Bruce felt his eyes fill up with tears again. He blinked, furious with himself, but Clark saw, of course.
"Oh, baby," Clark reached for him and keep one hand on the back of Bruce's neck. "If you had any idea of how much you scare me, you wouldn't be saying that."
Bruce swallowed, afraid to ask what that meant.
"I'm invincible – you're not," Clark told him. "And that will always scare me to death, the thought of losing you."
It was horribly unfair for Clark to point that out because Bruce had no reply. He just nodded again.
Clark stepped into super-speed, turning into a blur, and three seconds later Bruce was wearing blue pajamas. Bruce blinked and ran his tongue over his teeth, suddenly aware his mouth tasted all minty.
"I brushed your teeth," Clark explained as he took Bruce's hand to lead him to bed.
Bruce wanted to protest, but he thought, what was the use at this point? Clark would have things his way, no matter what happened. But once they got to the bed, Bruce balked at getting in.
"It's too early – I can't sleep now."
"You got nine hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours – I think you'll sleep."
"I napped in between meetings yesterday," Bruce objected though he knew there was no use in arguing. "All right, fine, but if I sleep now, can I get up later when you get back?"
"Yeah, we can have dinner then," Clark said, hiding his delight that Bruce was finally asking to do something instead of plowing ahead and doing whatever he wanted regardless of how Clark felt.
Bruce sighed, but he got into bed and collapsed on his stomach. He felt Clark cover him up and place a tender hand on Bruce's hair. Clark was probably going to say something kind and Bruce knew he would have to suffer through it and growl on the inside as he always did when Clark got all mushy and sentimental.
Thankfully at that moment, the phone beside the bed rang.
Bruce rolled onto his side, but Clark had already grabbed the phone.
"Wayne Manor, Clark Kent speaking . . . Oh, hey, Dick, how's it going?"
Bruce pushed himself up on one elbow, scowling. "What does he want?"
"No, we're both here," Clark frowned at Bruce at he continued to talk. "What? . . . Oh, thanks, I thought you might like those books. Catcher in the Rye was one of my favorites, though it's probably too old for Tim. Give him Treasure Island. . . . Yeah, he's here. You want to talk to him?"
Clark handed the receiver to Bruce with a warning look. Bruce snatched the receiver and barked into it, "What is it?"
"Hey, Bruce," Dick's came through clear and strong. "Tim and Alfred got here. Alfred went out to see a friend, but he's coming back later and wants to stay in and read, but Tim's itching to go out. I wanted to see if it was cool to take him out on patrol. We'll be careful."
"No," Bruce snapped, "Robin stays in Gotham, nowhere else."
Clark made a movement to step towards the bed, and Bruce gave in. "Fine, fine, go on patrol, but you have to be careful. Take out your car and not the motorcycle. Keep Tim close and don't stay out past two."
"Thanks," Dick replied.
"Did he say yes?" Bruce could hear Tim's voice in background. "Can we go or is he going to be all mean and say no?"
"He said yes," Dick sounded so happy Bruce scowled even more.
"You two better behave or I'm coming there tonight," Bruce threatened. "And tell Tim he better practice jumping some – his form was all screwed up the other night."
"Bruce says he loves you," Dick hollered to Tim on the other side of the line.
"He didn't say that," Tim shouted back.
"Yes, he did," Dick sounded like he was really enjoying himself. "Get over here and tell him you love him, too."
"I won't," Tim retorted.
There was a slightly scuffle on the other side, and then Dick came back on the line, panting, "Hey, Bruce, I got him in a headlock here. Okay, Tim, tell Bruce how much you looooove him."
"No!" Tim seemed to be struggling. "I won't say it. Dick, let me go or I swear I'll beat you to – ah-ha-ha-ha!" Squealing laughter came through so loud Bruce had to hold the phone back from his ear.
"Say it, say it," Dick chanted as Tim continued to scream out laughter.
"Stop tickling me – ha-ha-ha-ha – stop!" Tim ordered. "Okay, okay –Eeeee! I love you, Bruce."
"There, was that so hard?" Dick said snarkily. "Poor little baby - oh, crap, he got away. Tim, get back here and – hey, what's that? Where the heck did you get water-balloons? No, don't throw that. Throw that and I'll –"
"Boys!" Bruce yelled in the phone. "Boys, I'm coming over there and I'm going to crack some heads together and –"
The line went dead, Dick obviously thinking water-balloons were more important to deal with than his irate adopted father.
"That punk," Bruce growled as Clark hung the phone up. "Everything's a big joke to him. I should bring them back here and make them shape up. A week of hard training and limited rations would sober them right up."
"Go to sleep," Clark told him. "We can worry about the boys later."
Bruce lay down on the soft pillow, sure he never could get sleep. His rear was still aching, and he thought it was most unfair that he had such a strict boyfriend with a stern hand.
Clark went to turn off the lights, and the room went dim though it was still slightly light outside.
"I'll stay with you for while," Clark got on the other side of the bed though he stayed on top of the covers. "You go on and get some rest."
"Can't – you spanked me too much," Bruce muttered in the pillow.
A hand suddenly slid under the cover and under Bruce's pajama's top to start massaging and rubbing his back. Bruce let out an exhausted breath of air and sunk father down into the pillow as that hand found each tight muscle in his back and worked on loosening it up.
Bruce knew he was fighting a losing battle and that he was headed to sleep whether he liked it or not so he let his eyes close and relaxed.
"You stay in bed until I get back," Clark told him, continuing to work that tired back under his skilled hand. "I'm checking back every so often to make sure you listen to me."
Bruce grunted in reply, unable to form coherent words.
Clark smiled. He finally had Bruce right where he wanted him.
Fifteen miles away, in a tiny dark apartment, Edward Nygma was working on his computer, watching the price of his Ebay items go higher and higher. He hated having to sell his stuff, but it was only the thing he could do to make money until he got the payment for the hacking program he had designed.
He would be in trouble once Batman found out about the program, especially when it hacked Gotham City Bank, and Edward knew he would get an ass-kicking and then be taken straight back to Arkham, but dang it, he needed the money.
A knock sounded on the door. Edward was surprised, but not scared. If Batman had come, he would have broken through the door or come through the window – Batman didn't knock.
Edward opened the door and his jaw dropped open. "Se-Selina?" he swallowed. He knew her pretty well – their cells had been next to each other at Arkham for a few months.
"Hello, Edward," she put one hand up on the doorpost, showing off her curvy figure. "How are you?"
"Oh, no," Edward backed up, putting his hands up, "not fair. You can't take my computer – it's all I have right now. I hate living in this stupid city. Someone's always stealing your stuff. Batman tells us it's so easy to life a clean life. Well, does he have people showing up at his apartment and stealing his computer?"
"No one wants your computer," Selina interrupted sharply. She looked at the dark-haired, rail-thin young man with several days' scraggly growth on his face and rumpled clothes. Not someone she would ever choose to be with and a very far cry from Batman, but when you're desperate, you'll take anything. "I'm here for you."
"Me?" Edward blinked nervously. "You want me for a job?"
"No, I want you," Selina smiled coyly. "Every bit of your glorious . . . thin body. You ready to have sex tonight?"
"Me?" Edward squeaked. "With you? Really?"
He looked so overjoyed and excited Selina wanted to roll her eyes. She settled for nodding and still smiling.
"Hell, yeah," Edward ran back to a bureau in his one-room apartment. "Man, this is the best day of my life. Wait just a sec – I got condoms here somewhere. I got them eight years ago, but they should be fine, right?"
"Sure, whatever."
"Oh, man, oh man," Edward scrambled through his drawer. "I can't believe I get to have sex with Catwoman. Eat your heart out, Batman. And Scarecrow, and Clayface, and Joker, oh, and you too, Two-Face. See what this loser gets and suffer, all of you!"
"Edward," Selina stepped into the room and put her hand on the edge of the door, "I wanted to ask you – have you ever had someone spank you before?"
"Huh?" Edward looked up, the faded packet of condoms in his hand.
Selina smiled wickedly and shut the door, locking it tight.
"And you," Clark began spanking him again, "are the most inconsiderate, selfish man I ever met."
Bruce felt more tears falling out of his eyes, but he just yelled, "Selfish? You're selfish, jackass."
"I came here for a nice relaxing weekend with my boyfriend," Clark slammed his hand down harder, making Bruce's whole body lurch forward with the impact. "Instead, I find you trying to kiss your ex-lover and hide her in the closet. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" Clark's voice grew angry for the last question and he unleashed such a torrent of swats that Bruce stopped breathing for a second.
A moment later, he dragged air into his starved lungs and gave a loud, long wail of pain. "I'm sorry," he almost screamed. "I'm sorry!"
"Do you still have feelings for her?" Clark demanded.
"Yes! No! I don't know," Bruce was choking on his sobs. "She's meant something to me for so long – I can't stop thinking about her when I see her."
"Do you think about her other times? Throughout the day? At work?" Clark asked, delivering two more hard slaps.
"I used to, but now I think about you," Bruce was starting to shake with the intensity of his emotions.
Clark had lifted his hand to spank Bruce again, but he paused, hand still in the air. "You – you do? You think about me instead of her, in that way?"
"Yes," Bruce cried, "yes. I used to doodle cats during my – my meetings. But now I draw S's in that diamond shape thing that you wear."
Clark wanted to relent, but he said, "You should be paying attention in meetings, not drawing."
"I know, but I miss you during the week and it helps until I can see you," Bruce lowered his head as he kept crying.
Clark felt the inside of his chest grow warm and he remembered why he loved the big lug over his lap so much.
"Ten more and we're done," Clark promised.
"No," Bruce wailed and he kept wailing as Clark laid down ten more slaps from that untiring arm.
After Cark was done, Bruce did not move. He lay still, but hiccupped softly.
"Shh," Clark soothed a hand over his boyfriend's sweaty hair. "We're done now. You can get up now."
Bruce was trembling so hard that he could only push himself up a few inches. Clark reached down and set him up on his feet. Seeing Bruce's pants around his ankles, Clark bend and pulled them up, fastening them up quickly.
Bruce looked stunned, but he reached up to swipe his fingers over his face. He seemed amazed that he had tears on his cheeks and he stared at his damp fingers, surprised that he actually remembered how to cry after so many years of stoicism.
Clark had to stop himself from smiling. Every time he punished Bruce, the hardened man was astonished that he could cry. One more wonderful, precious thing about him.
"How do you feel?" Clark asked.
Bruce glared at him. "Shut up," he ordered. "You know how I feel."
"You'll be sore for a little while, but you'll be fine by Monday," Clark assured him. He opened his arms up to his boyfriend.
Bruce snarled and turned away, his typical response to any sign of affection. But as he walked away, Clark zoomed around him so fast that Bruce did not see, and he ended up walking straight into Clark's chest.
"Oomph!" Bruce hit the rock-hard chest, but before he could move away, Clark had his arms around him, pulling Bruce in for a tight hug.
"There we go," Clark soothed. "You're going to be all right."
"Get off me, you asshole," Bruce yelled into Clark's shoulder.
Clark drew back and gave him a careful look that made Bruce swallow nervously. "Are we going to have to work on your language? Going to have to resort to my pa's old method of dealing with a naughty mouth?"
As Mr. Kent's method had been soaping out a mouth for swearing, Bruce hastily shook his head.
"Then I suggest you hug me and stop pushing me away before I take off my belt," Clark's eyes were like blue ice.
Bruce immediately stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Clark's chest. For a moment, Bruce felt enraged, but when Clark's arms circled around his shoulders and drew him closer, Bruce relented and leaned his head on Clark's hard shoulder.
"You're going to be all right," Clark assured him. "It's all right to feel conflicted. But you have to talk to me. I'll never know what you feel unless you tell me. And if I have to do this until you're eighty, so be it – whatever it takes to get through to you."
"You're not spanking me when I'm eighty," Bruce declared, but he didn't move out of the hug.
"We'll see," Clark smiled. "All right, are we going to have to talk anymore about this?"
Bruce shook his head.
"No more hiding things from me? No more lying?"
"No," Bruce replied.
"You're going to be a good boy now?" Clark said, unable to keep the teasing note out of his voice. He felt Bruce squirm against him, annoyed at being talked to like a child. "You're going to be fine. Okay, you hungry?"
Bruce slowly stepped back from Clark and wiped away the last of his tears. "No, I don't want anything."
Clark resisted the urge to sigh. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Lunch, and I had a lot of food. I'll eat later, just not now. Jeez, Clark, my ass is on fire. How am I ever going to get in the suit and ride in the Batmobile?"
"You're not going on patrol tonight," Clark told him.
"Yes, I am," Bruce drew himself up though it made his bottom ache in protest. "It's barely after seven, and I wanted to patrol until two."
"What time did you patrol to last night?" Clark asked.
"Um, I think about midnight."
"I can call Alfred and ask."
"Fine, three! Are you happy?" Bruce looked away disgruntled, but inside he was praying that Clark did not consider this to be lying as well. His rear end could not stand anymore punishment.
"Hardly. And you were up by six to go to work, I'm sure. The night before – how late?"
"Two," Bruce admitted.
"And the night before that?"
"Four."
"Bruce!"
"Hey, I was chasing Two-Face forever through the Narrows. And once I got him back to Arkham, he realized he had lost his two-headed coin and he went into hysterics so I had to go back and find it and then they had to sedate him because all the over inmates were getting upset and it took a long time."
"And that's why you're going to bed now," Clark announced. He stepped forward to plant a soft kiss on Bruce's sweaty forehead. "I'll patrol, but you are going to get some sleep if it's the last thing you do."
Bruce opened his mouth to tell Clark that he was not going to bed, but Clark moved suddenly, and then next thing Bruce knew, he was cradled in Clark's arms and being carried out of the family room.
"Let me down," Bruce ordered. "I can walk by myself – Clark, this looks ridiculous."
"Actually you look pretty good in my arms," Clark smiled down at him. "I may carry you around all weekend, when I'm not keeping you snug in bed."
Bruce muttered under his breath, but he was careful not to swear out loud.
"Here we go," Clark carried Bruce into the bedroom and set him down on his feet again before beginning to unbutton Bruce's shirt.
Usually, Bruce loved it when Clark undressed him though he would never admit it to Clark. Sometimes Clark took his time, dragging each button out of its buttonhole slowly and pausing in between to kiss Bruce or tousle his hair; sometimes Clark undressed him a super-speed leaving Bruce dizzy from moving so fast. But tonight, Bruce felt irritated. It was bad enough to be spanked like a child, but to be undressed like one -!
"What do you think? Should I give you a bath, too?" Clark asked, tilting his head to side.
Any other time, that would have been the beginning to hours of torrid sex, but right now Bruce jerked away to unbutton his own shirt.
"No, I had a shower this morning."
"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning note, "tell me what's wrong."
"I screwed up, okay?" Bruce shot back. "And you punished me, I get that. But you don't have to treat me like a child just because you're stronger than me. You don't have to carry me around and undress me and bathe me and put me to bed –" To his horror, Bruce felt his eyes fill up with tears again. He blinked, furious with himself, but Clark saw, of course.
"Oh, baby," Clark reached for him and keep one hand on the back of Bruce's neck. "If you had any idea of how much you scare me, you wouldn't be saying that."
Bruce swallowed, afraid to ask what that meant.
"I'm invincible – you're not," Clark told him. "And that will always scare me to death, the thought of losing you."
It was horribly unfair for Clark to point that out because Bruce had no reply. He just nodded again.
Clark stepped into super-speed, turning into a blur, and three seconds later Bruce was wearing blue pajamas. Bruce blinked and ran his tongue over his teeth, suddenly aware his mouth tasted all minty.
"I brushed your teeth," Clark explained as he took Bruce's hand to lead him to bed.
Bruce wanted to protest, but he thought, what was the use at this point? Clark would have things his way, no matter what happened. But once they got to the bed, Bruce balked at getting in.
"It's too early – I can't sleep now."
"You got nine hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours – I think you'll sleep."
"I napped in between meetings yesterday," Bruce objected though he knew there was no use in arguing. "All right, fine, but if I sleep now, can I get up later when you get back?"
"Yeah, we can have dinner then," Clark said, hiding his delight that Bruce was finally asking to do something instead of plowing ahead and doing whatever he wanted regardless of how Clark felt.
Bruce sighed, but he got into bed and collapsed on his stomach. He felt Clark cover him up and place a tender hand on Bruce's hair. Clark was probably going to say something kind and Bruce knew he would have to suffer through it and growl on the inside as he always did when Clark got all mushy and sentimental.
Thankfully at that moment, the phone beside the bed rang.
Bruce rolled onto his side, but Clark had already grabbed the phone.
"Wayne Manor, Clark Kent speaking . . . Oh, hey, Dick, how's it going?"
Bruce pushed himself up on one elbow, scowling. "What does he want?"
"No, we're both here," Clark frowned at Bruce at he continued to talk. "What? . . . Oh, thanks, I thought you might like those books. Catcher in the Rye was one of my favorites, though it's probably too old for Tim. Give him Treasure Island. . . . Yeah, he's here. You want to talk to him?"
Clark handed the receiver to Bruce with a warning look. Bruce snatched the receiver and barked into it, "What is it?"
"Hey, Bruce," Dick's came through clear and strong. "Tim and Alfred got here. Alfred went out to see a friend, but he's coming back later and wants to stay in and read, but Tim's itching to go out. I wanted to see if it was cool to take him out on patrol. We'll be careful."
"No," Bruce snapped, "Robin stays in Gotham, nowhere else."
Clark made a movement to step towards the bed, and Bruce gave in. "Fine, fine, go on patrol, but you have to be careful. Take out your car and not the motorcycle. Keep Tim close and don't stay out past two."
"Thanks," Dick replied.
"Did he say yes?" Bruce could hear Tim's voice in background. "Can we go or is he going to be all mean and say no?"
"He said yes," Dick sounded so happy Bruce scowled even more.
"You two better behave or I'm coming there tonight," Bruce threatened. "And tell Tim he better practice jumping some – his form was all screwed up the other night."
"Bruce says he loves you," Dick hollered to Tim on the other side of the line.
"He didn't say that," Tim shouted back.
"Yes, he did," Dick sounded like he was really enjoying himself. "Get over here and tell him you love him, too."
"I won't," Tim retorted.
There was a slightly scuffle on the other side, and then Dick came back on the line, panting, "Hey, Bruce, I got him in a headlock here. Okay, Tim, tell Bruce how much you looooove him."
"No!" Tim seemed to be struggling. "I won't say it. Dick, let me go or I swear I'll beat you to – ah-ha-ha-ha!" Squealing laughter came through so loud Bruce had to hold the phone back from his ear.
"Say it, say it," Dick chanted as Tim continued to scream out laughter.
"Stop tickling me – ha-ha-ha-ha – stop!" Tim ordered. "Okay, okay –Eeeee! I love you, Bruce."
"There, was that so hard?" Dick said snarkily. "Poor little baby - oh, crap, he got away. Tim, get back here and – hey, what's that? Where the heck did you get water-balloons? No, don't throw that. Throw that and I'll –"
"Boys!" Bruce yelled in the phone. "Boys, I'm coming over there and I'm going to crack some heads together and –"
The line went dead, Dick obviously thinking water-balloons were more important to deal with than his irate adopted father.
"That punk," Bruce growled as Clark hung the phone up. "Everything's a big joke to him. I should bring them back here and make them shape up. A week of hard training and limited rations would sober them right up."
"Go to sleep," Clark told him. "We can worry about the boys later."
Bruce lay down on the soft pillow, sure he never could get sleep. His rear was still aching, and he thought it was most unfair that he had such a strict boyfriend with a stern hand.
Clark went to turn off the lights, and the room went dim though it was still slightly light outside.
"I'll stay with you for while," Clark got on the other side of the bed though he stayed on top of the covers. "You go on and get some rest."
"Can't – you spanked me too much," Bruce muttered in the pillow.
A hand suddenly slid under the cover and under Bruce's pajama's top to start massaging and rubbing his back. Bruce let out an exhausted breath of air and sunk father down into the pillow as that hand found each tight muscle in his back and worked on loosening it up.
Bruce knew he was fighting a losing battle and that he was headed to sleep whether he liked it or not so he let his eyes close and relaxed.
"You stay in bed until I get back," Clark told him, continuing to work that tired back under his skilled hand. "I'm checking back every so often to make sure you listen to me."
Bruce grunted in reply, unable to form coherent words.
Clark smiled. He finally had Bruce right where he wanted him.
Fifteen miles away, in a tiny dark apartment, Edward Nygma was working on his computer, watching the price of his Ebay items go higher and higher. He hated having to sell his stuff, but it was only the thing he could do to make money until he got the payment for the hacking program he had designed.
He would be in trouble once Batman found out about the program, especially when it hacked Gotham City Bank, and Edward knew he would get an ass-kicking and then be taken straight back to Arkham, but dang it, he needed the money.
A knock sounded on the door. Edward was surprised, but not scared. If Batman had come, he would have broken through the door or come through the window – Batman didn't knock.
Edward opened the door and his jaw dropped open. "Se-Selina?" he swallowed. He knew her pretty well – their cells had been next to each other at Arkham for a few months.
"Hello, Edward," she put one hand up on the doorpost, showing off her curvy figure. "How are you?"
"Oh, no," Edward backed up, putting his hands up, "not fair. You can't take my computer – it's all I have right now. I hate living in this stupid city. Someone's always stealing your stuff. Batman tells us it's so easy to life a clean life. Well, does he have people showing up at his apartment and stealing his computer?"
"No one wants your computer," Selina interrupted sharply. She looked at the dark-haired, rail-thin young man with several days' scraggly growth on his face and rumpled clothes. Not someone she would ever choose to be with and a very far cry from Batman, but when you're desperate, you'll take anything. "I'm here for you."
"Me?" Edward blinked nervously. "You want me for a job?"
"No, I want you," Selina smiled coyly. "Every bit of your glorious . . . thin body. You ready to have sex tonight?"
"Me?" Edward squeaked. "With you? Really?"
He looked so overjoyed and excited Selina wanted to roll her eyes. She settled for nodding and still smiling.
"Hell, yeah," Edward ran back to a bureau in his one-room apartment. "Man, this is the best day of my life. Wait just a sec – I got condoms here somewhere. I got them eight years ago, but they should be fine, right?"
"Sure, whatever."
"Oh, man, oh man," Edward scrambled through his drawer. "I can't believe I get to have sex with Catwoman. Eat your heart out, Batman. And Scarecrow, and Clayface, and Joker, oh, and you too, Two-Face. See what this loser gets and suffer, all of you!"
"Edward," Selina stepped into the room and put her hand on the edge of the door, "I wanted to ask you – have you ever had someone spank you before?"
"Huh?" Edward looked up, the faded packet of condoms in his hand.
Selina smiled wickedly and shut the door, locking it tight.