Title: ORACLE AND NIGHTWING
Author: Jody Revenson (jodyretro@aol.com)
Disclaimer: This story contains erotic and graphic sexual activities. If 
you find that offensive or are under 18 years of age, read something else. 
*Dick and Babs Go To Walmart* this ain't. All characters mentioned in 
this story are the property of DC Comics and no trademark or copyright 
infringement is intended. No profit will be made from the distribution of 
this story except, I hope, the satisfaction of a job well done. Comments 
are welcome at jodyretro@aol.com. (Note: this was written way before 
"No Man's Land".) 
**********************************************************

"Oracle out." Barbara Gordon clicked the speaker phone off-line and 
leaned back in her wheelchair. Well, that was an interesting call, she 
thought, the first time she'd been contacted by the new Green Lantern 
since he'd gotten the ring. He only needed some slightly classified 
information, but she'd enjoyed the connection. Opening up his file, 
she read that he'd been raised on the West Coast and moved to New 
York only a few years ago to work as a graphic artist. Maybe he could 
design her a new screen saver, in addition to the Bat signal logo she'd 
installed years ago. It might be fun to start an internet relationship with 
him. In addition to being witty, well-mannered, almost gallant in his 
inquiry, he had that dark brooding intensity she'd always found 
attractive in a man. Then she remembered that he was living with 
Donna Troy, former Titan and Darkstar, and that pulled the plug 
on that electronic love connection.

Barbara checked the clock on her computer. Eleven PM. It seemed 
the slowest Friday night ever. Other than Green Lantern's query, the 
only other connection had been an early request from the latest 
Robin, Tim Drake. Not for a case involving the Riddler or 
Cluemaster, but for help with his Social Sciences homework.

What could she do to pass the time? Take a swim in the pool 
again? It was the closest she came now to recapturing the 
sensation of flying from rooftop to rooftop, soaring among the 
spires. But her fingers were still wrinkled from the hundred laps 
she'd done only a short while ago.

Didn't feel hungry, didn't feel thirsty. Didn't feel tired, didn't feel 
buzzed. Barbara cocked her head and flicked a finger into the belly 
of the Batgirl doll that sat next to the monitor. "An understatement
 to say I just don't feel, right?" she murmured.

She thought about recontacting the Batcave, hoping that Tim might 
have checked in early and be up for a game of chess, then 
remembered he'd said that the Batman had given him the night off 
for a date with his girlfriend. Even Bruce had made it a social night. 
She switched over to the computer's satellite dish and caught the 
lead story on GNN about the Wayne Foundation's annual Crystal 
Ball for children's inner city school programs. The tuxedo-clad 
millionaire was featured heavily in the report, not only for his 
charitable activity, but also for being seen snuggling up to a local 
radio night-time jock he'd met recently. Gotham was aglow with 
the buzz. When was the last time one of the world's most eligible 
bachelors had been less eligible? This relationship could trump 
Trump, send Leo off Page Six. Had the playboy finally become 
a serious man?

Babs knew better.

When Barbara was younger, she entertained thoughts of pairing 
up with the Batman in more than just a crime-fighting way. Her 
fantasies about the broad-shouldered vigilante had carried her 
across many a flushed threshold when the first stirrings of sexuality 
had blossomed in her youth. But as she grew older and worked 
with him on several cases, she accepted the sad truth that Bruce's 
grisly past prevented him from trusting anyone enough to let them 
into his tortured soul.

Not allowing herself to be imprisoned by her own similarly tortured 
psyche, she had mourned, then grown past the sudden death of her 
mother from a car accident and the drawn-out wasting death of her 
real father from alcoholism. Her uncle had taken her into his home, 
into his family, and most importantly, into his heart. With Jim 
Gordon's calm influence, she found that if she could rely on 
anything, it was the possibility of a new beginning. Even the end 
of his first marriage had proved a lesson in the potential of second 
chances. Through trouble and complications and lots of effort, with 
his second wife he'd found a Happily Ever After.

If only it could happen to her.

As if to reinforce this musing, a familiar tone pulsed in her ear piece. 
Barbara shook her head, a slow smile crossing her face as she clicked 
on the receiver. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Babs. Listen, Sarah and I were going to catch the late show of 
the latest Travolta movie and thought you might want to tag along."

Barbara pursed her lips. Talk about being a fifth wheel. "Thanks, Dad,
 but I've got a ton of research to database."

"It's not a school night, you know. You are allowed a little pleasure 
from time to time" 

"Not if a girl's gotta pay her rent. Besides, if I finish early, I've got 
a Harrison Ford video, a bag of white cheddar popcorn and I promise 
I'll stick a wad of gum under my chair. I'll be fine."

"I love you, Barbara. Can we get together for coffee tomorrow?"

"As long as it's not at one of those yuppie caffeine chains. That much 
Hunter green makes me dizzy. Bye, Daddy. You and Sarah have a 
good time." She released the line and stretched her arms skyward. 
That was all she needed. If her mood wasn't turning self-pitying 
enough, it'd be murder to watch a "couples" movie with her favorite 
couple. 

It's not like I had such an amazing social life to begin with, she 
thought.

Avoidance by boys intimidated by her intelligence during her school 
years had left her to her own entertainment on many a high school 
"date" night. Her obsession with training for her superhero dreams 
had filled in most of the empty time, but she still felt heartsick when 
she passed classmates kissing in the halls or petting at the drive-in. 
When she finally decided to dive into the dating pool at college, she'd 
been disappointed by the heavy-handed gropings in parked cars or 
by the leering sincerity of the "perfect guy" she'd been set up with 
by a well-meaning friend. Losing her virginity at the age of nineteen 
had felt more like an item checked off on a "To Do" list than a 
consummation of romance.

Her job as Director of Reference Services at the Gotham Library had 
effected the perfect clich,, -- flame-red hair, high full breasts and long, 
supple legs exuded an inviting sexuality. But while her stunning looks 
were inventoried by all the guys who passed through the stacks, 
Barbara refused to be put into circulation. "Ice Queen" they whispered 
behind her back. "Too good for us." It wasn't that she didn't long for 
intimacy, she reminded herself constantly, it was that her isolation 
was necessary to protect a higher purpose.

Finally, while serving as a congresswoman in Washington, she 
attempted the luxury of pursuing a social life. Dating a soldier and 
a senator among others, she began to think that she could lead a more 
normal existence. She looked forward to their smiles, enjoyed their 
caresses, even took hope in their white-picket fence dreams. But though 
she shared the physical closeness she had yearned for, inside she still 
felt detached from them. In the end, she allowed the demands of her 
crime-fighting activities to thwart their efforts to be together and all 
the relationships had inevitably fallen apart.

Only once had she felt what she thought emotional fulfillment should 
be, and to her surprise, it had been with a boy whose own sexual 
awakening she had brought about. With the boy, who followed the 
same path she was on to fight against crime and injustice, she found 
a trust and freedom she'd never felt before. Their lovemaking had run
the gamut from sensual gentleness to total abandon. As with no one 
before, she revealed her secrets and fears to him and felt he granted 
her confidences he gave no one else.

But once again, she allowed the dream of her higher goal to stall the
relationship into nothingness. It didn't bode well to mix business and 
pleasure, she convinced herself. How could she care and be cared 
about in their dangerous, deadly business? It was unfair, she lied to 
herself. 

Though I don't even have being such a great superhero as a good 
excuse, either. She'd bungled too many jobs and been rescued from 
the fire too many times to think she had a future in crime-fighting, 
so after a near-miss assassination attempt, she retired. 

Now she could look forward to a home and hearth. To giving her 
father the grandchildren he muttered about. Her hopes of finding 
an intimate and loving relationship were raised, only to be cruelly 
shot down only a few months later by a twisted villain with a rictus 
smile.

Weeks of lying in a hospital bed and months of therapy attested to 
the corporeal limitations of her paralysis but Barbara discovered a 
harsher truth as well. What was shattered went beyond the physical. 
She came to see that the outside world assumed that the broken 
connection in her spine also cut off any connection to her heart.

When she was young, the bespectacled teen got hung up on the 
motto "Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses." Now 
she wanted to revise that to "Guys just stare at a girl in a chair."

"You still have your brains, your passions, your soul," her father 
had said. "You're a prize any man would want to win."

Barbara laid her head on her hands. Yeah, great prize I am, torn 
and tattered, she brooded. A reference book with a hole in the spine. 
Worth a nickel at book sales, maybe bought just to bring the coffee 
table leg up to level.

Her darkest thought was that her maiming had led to her original 
dream's salvation. Putting her photographic memory and remarkable 
reference and computer skills to work, she became a valuable link in 
the chain of vigilante justice. In fact, she had more interaction and 
respect from her crime-fighting peers then when she'd worn her own 
cape and cowl. She could decipher what 2,000-year old encryption 
code was being used by R'as Al Ghul and translate it in a millisecond, 
or find what weakness in the weaponry embanked on the north side 
of Santa Prisca Island would allow the Black Canary to thwart a 
white slaver's plans without a scratch. She'd achieved her dream 
of indispensability to innocent victims and crime-fighters everywhere.
But at a price.

All her rehabilitation couldn't take the place of the softness of a 
hand stroking her hair or the warmth of an arm around her waist. 
All her knowledge couldn't substitute for the brush of moist lips 
along the nape of her neck. All her research couldn't tell her how 
someone could survive without the caress of another human being.

A hot tear coursed down her cheek.

I certainly named myself appropriately, she whispered. The Oracle. 
Inspired by Ancient Greece's Delphic Oracle, the isolated Vestal 
Virgin, suspended above the steaming fissures of the earth, spewing 
mad wisdom in her loneliness. But instead of sitting on a golden 
tripod, this Oracle perched on an aluminum wheelchair.

And like the original Oracle, who had been consulted by Perseus 
and Orestes, given the ten labors to Hercules, warned Oedipus of the 
path he'd descend, she, too, was "visited" by the young heroes of the 
day. She was the omphalos, the centerpoint of the world, revered as 
the mouthpiece of the gods. But now the mouthpiece was a 
microphone, and predictions were received on a computer print-out.

No one touches me anymore, she wept. No one holds me. I'm not 
human anymore, I'm machine. My true voice is filtered, my true face 
unseen. Day and night, I embrace plastic and metal; a program, not 
a person. 

And it's worse than just not being with people. I'm no longer a 
woman. 

A bell-like tone sounded in the shadowy apartment.

Barbara drew in a ragged breath and wiped the teardrops away 
with the back of her hand. 

The tone rang again, a little longer this time. Wearily, she sat up 
and cued the outside camera. A figure in black and robin's egg 
blue braced himself on the wall with one hand while the other 
cradled his side.

"Babs. Are you there? Please be there."

She saw him weakly press the buzzer one more time, then slide 
to the floor. Knocking over a stack of books wheeling backwards 
to turn around, she raced to the door, pulling it open with all her 
strength, nearly falling over sideways in her chair. He was slumped 
against the threshold, wiping his face, checking for traces of blood 
on his gloves. At the sound of Barbara's gasp behind him, he 
painfully turned towards her and focused bleary eyes beneath his mask. 

"Somebody order a pizza?" His rueful smile said it all for her.

"Nightwing! Can you walk?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm all out of 
anti-grav BatStretchers."

"Yeah. Just give me a minute." Pushing with his feet, Nightwing slid 
back up the wall. He stood straight for a second, flushed with the 
effort, then swayed forward. Barbara quickly hooked his thigh for 
balance with her arm and pulled him against the transom. He was 
gasping and swallowing deeply, trying to take in enough air to clear 
his head.

"You going to throw up?"

Nightwing shook his head slowly. "No." He managed to draw in several 
long ragged breaths. "But I wish you had a side-car to that chair about 
now."

Barbara wheeled backwards warily, watching as he painfully reached 
behind him to close the door before they headed inside her apartment. 
She pivoted a 180 and guided him to the bathroom.

Gleaming aluminum grab-rails formed a perverted Jungle Gym around 
the tub and toilet area. Barbara cringed at the cage-like metal but the 
roguish superhero maneuvered around the chrome monkey-bars with 
indifference. "What happened?"

"Hmmm. Let's see. Fists. Claws. Whips." He braced his hands on the 
waist-high sink and squatted down slowly to mirror level, surveying 
the damage to his face. "Recognize that modus operandi?"

"Sounds like the feline bondage queen." Barbara busied herself taking 
out towels and bandages from cabinets set in the walls.

"In the fur herself." With a deft movement, he slid two fingers under his 
mask and popped it off, placing it atop the soap dish. Barbara held up a
hand towel and he ran it under a slow- running faucet.

"The water'll take a few minutes to warm up."

Twisting around to sit on the bathtub rim, Dick wiped off the last of the 
spirit glue that held his mask in place, then blotted the cold towel across 
his forehead. He handed it back to her to re-wet, spotted with his blood. 
"Sorry. I'll replace it."

She wrung it out, pink water swirling in the sink. "Towel's easier to 
replace than your head."

Dick pointed his long legs out the doorway as she maneuvered her chair 
into a better position to take care of him. He was shivering and she knew 
he wasn't cold, but to start the calming process she flicked on the 
bathroom's heat lamp.

"That should help."

"Mmm. You don't happen to have any alcohol, do you? Like a brandy 
or something? Or are we superheroes still not allowed to partake of the 
grape or the grain."

"No, I have...," Barbara thought a moment. She remembered a bottle 
of Napoleon Brandy her father had given her last birthday. She'd been 
saving it for a special occasion that had never come. "I have just the 
thing."

With a nod of her head, she indicated that Dick would have to move 
his legs to allow her access out. He curled them up against the tub 
and she glided out into the hallway, towards a cabinet in the kitchen 
she ironically referred to as the "wine cellar." It contained the brandy 
and a bottle of Merlot she kept for dates. She'd replaced the wine 
bottle three times since she'd moved in, using it each time for cooking 
purposes, not social ones. 

Checking the brandy glasses for dust, she wheeled back to find Dick 
leaning against the sink, his boots in a crumpled pile in the corner, 
carefully checking his right ankle for swelling and tenderness.

"How is it?"

"Well, I'll never play the violin again, but..." His eyes locked to 
hers wickedly. "Then I never could before!" they shouted together.

She poured a generous amount of brandy into a snifter and handed 
it up to him, then poured another for herself as he inspected the amber 
liquor. Raising a toast of survival to each other, Dick took a deep
pull on the glass, swallowing the liquid 

"Your father has good taste," he choked out, handing her the glass 
for a refill. She poured him a smaller drink this time and set the 
bottle on the floor.

"Do you want me to contact...him?"

Dick looked down at her. "No," he said quickly.

"Not =my= father. I meant..."

"I know who you meant. =My= father." He tossed back more of 
his drink. "No, thank you. I'm sure he'll find out about this in the 
course of things." Dick took a deep breath, then clutched his side 
over pulled muscles. "Besides, you always said, if I was in the 
neighborhood, I should drop by."

Barbara pursed her lips with a smirk. "You were so sure I'd be in?"

"Who else can I depend on to be home on date night?"

A cold draft blew from her gut through the gaping holes bridged 
over her shattered spine. If Dick noticed her discomfort at his 
remark he didn't make amends for it. He had straightened up, 
leaning back against the low set sink. 

Picking up a clean towel, she shunted away her despair. "Let's 
have a look at you."

His face was torn above his left eyebrow. There were scratches 
on his left cheek as well, and the fabric above his left shoulder 
was shredded, showing deep red welts that oozed thick pain. The 
scratches ripped diagonally across his chest, down the washboard 
stomach of his costume, ending their path in an arc across his right 
thigh. "What a mess."

Dick swallowed the last of the snifter's contents. "You, on the 
other hand, look particularly beautiful tonight. You're growing 
your hair out again, huh? I like it longer. It...uh..." Barbara's 
glowering eyes discerned a florid tinge infusing his bruised face. 
Crossing her arms with an acrid deliberateness, she sighed.

"Go ahead. Finish it, Grayson."

"It...uh...enhances your femininity," he muttered weakly, setting 
his glass on the floor next to hers.

Barbara shook her head with annoyance, trying to hide the flushed 
marks of mixed emotions that were branding her own cheeks. 
"You're delirious as well as beaten up. Let me see your hands." 
Lacerations swelled through the frayed knuckles of his gloves. 
"Take those off."

The gloves were heavy, weighted down with equipment stored 
in metal cuff pockets that were hard to pull off bruised and swollen 
arms but Dick peeled them off with the skill of a striptease artist.

"I think you're going to need iodine, young man." She wheeled 
backwards and to the side with one hand, colliding with Dick as 
they both leaned forward to pull open the waist high cabinet door. 
"Let me. Please?"

"Sorry." Turning away from her, he ran his bloody knuckles under 
the lukewarm water.

Barbara waited patiently, holding a box of bandages and antiseptic
 in her lap as he scrubbed the rough skin with a washcloth. His 
high round butt was at her face level and she tried to convince 
herself to look away, but to no avail. The curve of his ass paralleled 
the hollow of his groin, which flowed sinuously down long, muscular 
thighs. She remembered how soft and silky his legs had been, when 
they had been wrapped around her own, once. How she had made 
him lie on the bed on his flat stomach as she licked his legs and 
thighs like an ice cream cone, placing sprinkles of kisses across 
his ass. How his ass was so firm but pliant as she had drawn him 
deeper inside her, over and over. 

Twisting around, Dick caught her in her reverie. He held out his 
hands for a towel and distractedly she started rubbing them dry. 
The silkiness of her palm brushed against his and spread a warmth 
through him that had nothing to do with the heat lamp.

He watched her through lowered eyelids, transfixed by the rosy 
flush on her cream-white cheeks. They were framed by iridescent 
coppery hair which trailed down to generous breasts rising and 
falling hypnotically under her V-necked shirt. Her tapered fingers 
caressed his with a gentle touch, a touch he remembered stroking 
his back and legs, causing a quivering in his muscles that felt like 
he was flying. He remembered how her strong long limbs had 
wrapped around his, sheltering him in a sanctuary of calmness 
during the craziness of his youth.

How supple and loose-limbed she had been; the positions they 
had been able to achieve in their love-making could have furnished 
a sequel to the Kama Sutra, he thought. Tall and willowy, Barbara 
matched him in dexterity and excelled him in artistry. Slowly, 
patiently, she guided him to manhood, pausing only like Meleager 
had, to throw golden fruit to Atalanta as they raced, allowing him 
to catch up. 

How destroyed he had been when she had turned him away. 

"You want to tell me how this happened?"

Dick lowered himself down on the bath's rim again, allowing 
Barbara easy reach to clean and dress the half-moon cut still 
oozing viscous fluid onto his forehead. She gently stroked the 
crusted blood away with a soft cotton square. Staring into eyes 
that reminded him of finely faceted emeralds, Dick began his 
story.

"I was on my way back home from the Crystal Ball. Rubber hors 
d'oeuvres, not sparkling but rather dim champagne. You know 
how I love these things. A real bore.

"I was cycling down Peterson Boulevard back home to the Bird's 
Nest -- what Tim and I have taken to calling Wayne Manor - 
when I heard a crash and a muffled explosion.

"It was at the Revolutionaire Art Museum. They're showing a 
very controversial exhibit - Erotic Toyland? You read about it 
in the papers?" he asked.

"The one that had all the knickers of the Daughters of Gotham 
Society in a twist?"

"Yeah, that's the one. So I park the bike, peel off the monkey 
suit, stick on the mask and I'm there in ten seconds. And who 
do I see but Catwoman and two of her litter purloining a rare 
and aesthetic collection of whips, leather masks, bustiers, dildos. 
You know, the kind of things the Marquis de Sade took on vacation."

"Purrrrrloined?" A smirk played across her lips. "Really, Robbie, 
thought you had given up the puns with the bare legs and cape."

Long lashes lowered momentarily onto downcast eyes. She had 
his chin cupped in her free hand and he curled his cheek into her 
palm before his gaze fixed itself back to hers. "Some things you 
don't give up so easily." Shifting his weight, trying to find a 
comfortable position on the slippery rim, his knees smacked 
into hers, knocking one of her feet off the wheelchair's supports, 
without a reaction on her part. 

"Anyway, I tell her to put down the stuff but she cracks out a 
whip and suddenly I find myself tangled up and falling down. 
Leo and Clarence do a number on my face and ribs, but Catty 
tells them to get out of her way, she'll take care of this. She 
orders them to pick me up and I'm carried over to a chain link 
fence in the alley, where she proceeds to tie my ankles and 
wrists to the metal using several of the whips she's stolen. 

"Her leonine friends disappear into the shadows. I don't think 
they shop at the same mall as I do, woman-wise, and I guess as
 kinky as Selina is, she wanted her privacy. Ow!"

Dick winced as the anesthetic Barbara applied stung him and she 
blew a cool breath across the wound to evaporate it quicker. "Go 
on. I want all the sordid details. It's been hell since they scrambled 
Gotham's only blue channel."

Her eyes avoided his as she placed a flesh-colored strip over the 
wound, sensing he'd been taken aback with her deadpan remark. 
Now it was Dick's turn to regain composure.

"Well, first Selina fondles me all over, stroking my arms, my sides, 
trailing her claws up and down my legs and back. Picking up another 
whip, she runs the tip through the link below my rear-end and reaching 
through another link to grab hold, rubs it back and forth over my crotch, 
sometimes pressing it into the crack in my ass, then pulling it forward 
slowly.

"Squeezing the whip in her crotch, she puts her booted legs through 
the chain link, hoists herself up and we come face to face. She straddles
 me, rubbing her body up and down mine. Every time she comes up 
forward on me, she licks my face, circling around my mask."

Barbara pulled back and squinted her eyes. What she thought were 
bruises on Dick's face she now realized were traces of Selina's lipstick.

"Through the spandex, I can feel her nipples growing harder as she 
slides up and down my chest. She arches back, then whips her hair 
across my face several times.

"She climbs higher on the fence and forces one of her breasts into 
my mouth. I circle the tip with my tongue, soaking the fabric of
her costume with my sucking. She's pawing me all over, raking her
nails across my ribs, pressing a knee into my crotch. Are you hot?"

Barbara's hands flew to her cheeks. "What?"

Brushing a damp curl of hair off her forehead, Dick smiled. "The 
heat lamp. Can you turn it off?"

Clumsily, she backed the wheelchair up and flicked off the switch. 
Barb's eyes strayed down Dick's front, where his nipples poked 
hard points through the fabric. Her own were rock hard as well, 
she realized.

"Then what happened?"

"I bit down on her tit. It stunned her but not for long. The whip 
cracks across my forehead. Then she bares her claws and lets 
them rip diagonally from my shoulder to my thigh. By then I 
had freed my left leg from the fence and shot her one in the solar 
plexus. She responds by kicking me in the chest. Suddenly Leo 
and Clarence return and rip me down, wale on me, leaving me 
kissing concrete, wind knocked out. Selina sticks me in the ass 
one last time with her stiletto heel and then they're gone in the
 night.

"When I realized where I was, I managed to stagger over here. 
The rest is, as they say..."

Barbara finished cleaning his face and tossed the dirty cotton into 
the garbage pail. "And you didn't even get to take anything home 
as a souvenir?" Her green eyes flickered a teasing glance. "I know 
how Bruce and you like to showcase mementos."

"I'd love to see Alfred trying to figure out where to exhibit the 
spoils of this case."

"And some are still on display", she murmured, unperceivingly 
nodding downwards.

Dick slapped his uninjured thigh in glee, laughing at her remark, 
opening his legs wider to accommodate the growing bulge in his 
leggings. Without missing a beat, he caught her eyes on the 
upswing of her chin. "This has nothing to do with what happened 
earlier," he grinned. 

Crimson clouds diffused across her face like a rose-streaked 
dawn. Self-consciously she looked down at herself and with 
a groan, noticed her errant foot. Her face raised to his in dismay 
but Dick had already started to place the foot back to rest on the 
metal grate. Casually placing one hand on her knee, he reached 
over with the other and lazily traced a line down her cheekbone. 
"We only communicate by head-set these days, Babs. I know we 
can't physically work together, but...I miss doing stuff with you 
like we used to. You know, =being= with you."

"I didn't mean anything by that."

"No?" She felt the callused pads of his fingers glide over her lips 
lightly with an arousing roughness. "Maybe I wish you'd realize..." 
Dick stammered to a stop as she swerved her head away defensively.

"What?" Barbara knew she spoke too fast, but her head was 
flooded with the feelings washing over her and she was afraid 
she'd drown in her own thoughts if she didn't dam the overflow 
quickly.

Dick shook his head softly. "Nothing," he muttered. "I just wish 
you'd realize."

Picking up the bottle of first aid lotion, she pointed it at his 
torn-up chest. "What I realize," she started, the words sticking 
in her dry throat, "is that you're going to have to lose the top if 
I'm going to clean up the rest of your mess."

Rising slowly, maintaining an unwavering scrutiny into her eyes, 
Dick's fingers reached into his waistband and pulled on the 
shirtwaist, peeling the body-clinging material up and off his 
wounds. Barbara's breath caught in her throat as she watched his 
impish strip-show, first revealing the fine dark hairs that tapered 
up from his groin to swirl around his navel which then traveled 
over the undulating planes that splayed over his torso like the 
ripples of desert sand dunes. Carefully he eased the shirt off, his 
deep breastbone shadowed between well-developed pectoral 
muscles, pulling the fabric over rounded biceps and squared 
shoulders. Finally, shaking his long black hair clear of the 
binding collar, he dropped the costume to the floor. The focused 
exertion had winded him and his chest rose and fell, reminding 
Barbara to breathe as well.

Dick raised his powerful arms to let her survey the damage, then, 
with a sly grin, brought clenched hands together at his tapered 
waist to affect a bodybuilder's pose.

"God save us from Arnold," she murmured, forcefully shaking 
off the distraction of the lean, lithesome body before her. Moistening 
another cotton square with alcohol, she began to blot away the blood 
and dirt. 

"Aah!" Drawing in, he winced at the disinfectant on his stomach. 
"That's cold!"

"Wuss."

"Torturer."

"Aw, is the boy blunder going to cry?"

"No, but I feel a pun coming on."

"Okay! I'll be careful!" 

Except for the two deep gouges above the upper left breast, 
Nightwing's Kevlar body suit had protected him well. Unrelentingly 
she made her way up the trail of light scratches to the deeper wounds 
at top, assessing for any other injuries on his chest or limbs, then 
noticed the deep smile of a scar that ringed his right shoulder.

"Barb - Ow!" Dick curled away from her. "That really hurt."

Imperceptibly she had dug into his newest injury too deeply, 
distracted by thoughts of how gunshot wounds received from 
the Joker had signaled a transition for both of them. Dismissed 
by a remorseful Batman after being wounded in a rooftop 
apprehension, Dick was forced to take responsibility for his 
own path. For him, the bullet's nick had effected his passage 
from boy to man.

But for her, she tallied, the bullet's consequence had left her 
less than a woman.

"Sorry," she said woodenly. Feeling a swelling of self-pity in 
her stomach, she stared past him, irritatingly catching her 
reflection in the sink's mirror. Quickly she glanced away from
her own dour gaze and bent back to her task of treating his 
lacerations.

Dick caught her hand on his chest. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Forcing a smile to her lips, she glanced up at him. "Surely you 
can afford more than that."

"Hey, I'm on a budget," he baited. "I pay for my own masks now."

His hand refused to release hers as she tried to continue her 
ministrations. Holding her palm against his breast, his thumb 
rubbed over her knuckles, his fingers enfolded hers. He grazed 
the heel of her hand lightly over his hard, rough nipple.

"Grayson...," she managed to stammer.

"Did I forget to say thank you?" Swiftly, he leaned in and caught 
her mouth with his own. Supple fingers lightly raked through her 
copper hair, tilting her face into his. Feathery tender caresses 
skimmed over her lips before he drank deep of her essence, then 
pulled away.

Barbara jerked her hand from his chest and brushed trembling 
fingers over her mouth. His taste was of brandy and boldness. 
She thought to wipe the moistness off with her palm, but her lips 
had already gone dry.

Dick grimaced at the look of surprise on her face, but what should 
he have expected? "Babs, I'm sorry," he blurted. He stroked his 
shoulder absentmindedly. "I guess I'm still that sixteen year-old 
kid with a mad crush on you."

"And I'm still much older than you," she choked out.

"Please! Seven years. That might have raised some eyebrows 
then, but now, it's a sad excuse for...whatever it's an excuse for."

"Excuse!" she exploded. Incredulous at his remark, Barbara pulled 
his hand away from his shoulder to stop the rings he traced around
his scar and slammed it down on the hard rubber handles encircling 
her. "Dick!...I'm in a wheelchair!"

Dick raised petulant eyes to meet hers. "I know." Impulsively, he 
bent over again and scooping her hair back with both hands, nibbled 
at the lobe of her ear, his breath warm and sweet against her skin. 
Nuzzling further in, he dallied lingering kisses down the nape of 
her neck, then abruptly pulled back and pressed his mouth close 
to her cheek. "I know," he whispered.

"Stop it. Please!" Barbara wheeled backwards and reached 
awkwardly for the antiseptic. "I have to...I don't think..." She 
hated being this flustered. The wall of control she had successfully 
built up against the heartache of her paralysis was imploding, 
exploding piercing shards of anguished yearnings through her body. 

"Don't think! Feel."

"I can't!" She raised a hand in defense, then dropped it despairingly. 
"I want to, but...I'm afraid."

Dick shook his head vehemently. "You've never been afraid of 
anything in your life."

"I'm unsure, then. I'm...unknowledgeable."

Laughter bubbled from his lips. "I love these clich,,d excuses!" He 
gestured at the quiet room around them. "Babs, when have you not 
come up against an obstacle and found it an opportunity to learn, to 
gain that knowledge?"

"Opportunity? This is an opportunity to you?" A sharp gaze 
reflected the piercing tone in her voice. Dick tore his eyes from 
hers.

Stalemate. 

"Let me finish dressing your wounds."

The corners of Dick's mouth curled up. He glanced down at the 
remaining injury, which throbbed slightly on his right thigh. "More 
like un-dressing my wounds."

His defiant grin flattened into a thin line of uncertainty and he shook 
his head, sighing.

"Barbara." He bit his lip forcefully. "Nothing has changed how I feel 
about you. How I've =always= felt about you." Hesitant fingers trailed 
across her brow, palming over her cheek to caress her chin. "How I 
always =will= feel about you."

Tingles of nervousness skittered up her shoulders and colored her face 
a duskier rose. Chills and flutters battled in her stomach. Her hands 
felt numb, her chest burned. The lights were too bright in the room, 
the buzz of electricity was too loud. Or was it that her senses were 
finally coming to life again?

Only once had she felt what she thought emotional fulfillment should 
be, and to her surprise, it had been with a boy whose own sexual 
awakening she had brought about. With the boy, who followed the 
same path she was on to fight against crime and injustice, she'd found 
a trust and freedom she'd never felt before. Their lovemaking had run 
the gamut from a sensual gentleness to total abandon. As with no one 
before, she had revealed her secrets and fears to him and felt he had 
granted her confidences he gave no one else.

How destroyed she had been when she turned him away. 

Just as she felt as if her whole body would shatter, a great calm 
overcame her.

Opportunity? How could she attack him as seeing this as an 
opportunity? This wasn't like the opportunities he had taken as 
a youth, bussing her cheek with a shy peck after a job well done, 
or catching her around the waist as they plunged off the rooftops, 
swinging together like mating birds through the rushing air.

Later, when affection had turned to lust, when the opportunity 
availed itself to satisfy their adolescent urges, steal secret stares, 
revel in the power to arouse and electrify each other, an undercurrent 
of fondness and devotion had always galvanized their relationship.

She thought back also to the dark days after her spine had been 
blown away, remembering the trucks from Grayson Industries that 
had arrived continuously at her door. Each truck, bearing the logo 
of an acrobat reaching up, just inches from catching a trapeze bar, 
signaled the arrival of new and appreciated items to make the difficult 
adjustment to life in a chair easier. Prototype sinks and storage for her 
kitchen, the latest in exercise equipment for the handicapped, bed and 
bath supplies. And crates of computer equipment to enable her to walk 
a new type of path.

Years of affection. Trust. Gratitude? Sure. Attraction. Admiration. 

And love.

Dick searched her eyes for an answer, but all he got for his query was 
a Cheshire cat grin.

Her heart beating thunderously, Barbara hooked her fingers into the 
waistband of his costume and timorously lowered the tight material 
over his slender hips. With a gentle touch, she brought the matted 
fabric away from the gash below his groin and, with his hand braced 
on her shoulder, allowed Dick to pull his right leg free and out of the 
legging.

Suddenly overcome with modesty, Dick blushed at his growing 
erection, pressing the cup built into his body suit tight against his 
skin with his hands. Barbara compliantly cleaned the lacerations that 
whorled across his thigh, blew over them to dry the antiseptic, then 
covered them with a large square bandage. The cool rush of her breath 
caused his penis to thrum against the cup. Barbara looked up at him 
and smiled. Could she still do that to a man?

Delicately she brushed the tips of her fingers over the arc of his groin, 
across his hip and over the hill of his buttock. She traced circles on the 
baby soft skin of his rear, squeezing the downy mounds with another 
look up into his cobalt eyes. Dick reached down to run a hand through 
her hair but she pushed it away.

"Turn around."

Twisting the cove of his hips in her hands, she brushed her lips over 
the places her hand had just caressed. Forcefully she pressed his back 
downward and Dick bent over the low sink, crossing his arms over his 
chest. He shivered, momentarily missing the warmth of the heat lamp 
to quell the chilling rush of her touch on his skin. Barbara kissed and 
nipped him, lowering her head to tongue the hollow where buttock 
met thigh, then licked up the arch of his hip, running her hands along 
his legs as she grazed over his body. Without warning, she pulled down 
the remaining leg of his body suit, ripping it away quickly. Catching his 
calf and pulling the last vestige of clothing off him, she trailed her 
fingers up and inside his legs.

Drawing his ass-cheeks apart, she blew a stream of cool air up his 
crack, then, continuing the circular motion with her hands, pushed 
forward and upwards on his pelvic bones, indicating he should stand 
back up. She heard a sharp intake of breath as she raked her fingers 
through the nest of dark curly hair at the base of his cock, barely 
skimming the top of his growing shaft. Placing kisses in the V at the 
base of his spine, she realized she could see his groin in the low hung 
mirror, his cock hardening at her sensuous touch. His head lowered, 
she could tell he was watching, too. Her mouth played over the contours 
of his thighs, her fingers feathered up the sinewy hollows of his groin.

Sighing, she caught his engorged cock in her hand, watching herself 
run one finger up the slickening shaft, then down again to catch the 
bead of moisture that hung on the tip. Swirling it around the helmet 
with the palm of her hand elicited a guttural moan from Dick and he 
opened his legs wider. Still massaging the head with her left hand, 
she ran two fingers down the groove on the underside of his long, 
straight cock, then captured his ballsack, squeezing it gently. 
Wrapping her left hand around him, she felt his silky tightness jump 
at her touch and she moved her hand up and down lightly in response, 
resting her cheek against his hip, watching his growing pleasure. 

She sought and found the spot just behind the base of his scrotum 
and pressed it carefully. Making tight circles with her thumb, she 
felt a shudder in his legs and gently stopped.

"Babs...," he entreated, his nerve ends stinging.

"Oh, no. You're not that sixteen year-old kid anymore. You just 
wait."

Grasping his hips once more, she rotated him around to face her.

Sweat beaded the sides of his face and his nostrils were flared, his 
chest and cock rising and falling together in a syncopated rhythm.

Barbara ran her hands up the hard muscles of his stomach, netting 
her fingers in his chest hair and pulled him to her. Falling forward 
with the momentum, Dick caught his hands on the arms of her chair, 
the force slamming her back against the wall as he seized her mouth 
with his. His tongue sliced between her lips, probing the fiery 
moistness, penetrating deeper and deeper. Plunging, parrying, 
thrusting her tongue with his, he was unquenchable, trembling 
with the yearnings that flowed through his body.

Barbara clutched his face in her hands, then trickled her fingers down 
the cords of his neck, to the taut muscles of his collarbone. He tasted 
of honey and vanilla, his sweetness tempered by the pungency of the 
sweat glowing on his skin. Strong arms embraced her and she gripped 
his shoulder blades, feeling his strength and power imbue through her.
 It drained away as he slowly drew back. "Why?"

Dick ran his thumb over her enflamed lips. "Gotta breathe sometime, 
darlin'." He skimmed his tongue over his own lips as a rakish smile 
grew from one side of his face to the other.

Catching his thumb with her teeth, she sucked it deeper into her mouth, 
biting gently, then swirled her tongue around the knuckle. She caressed 
his long, pliant fingers in her hand while she flicked moist darts in the 
valleys between before licking each in turn, like a cat catching the last 
drops of cream off the soft pads of its paws.

Barbara nuzzled her cheek in his hand a moment before dragging her 
lips across his palm, working lingering kisses over his wrist and up the 
tender inside of his arm. Then, grabbing him by his hips again, she 
pulled him forward to rain drops of kisses over his stomach, spiraling 
around his navel, dipping her tongue in and out. He perched over her, 
holding himself upright at a bowed angle by pushing his weight through 
his hands into the wall above Barbara's head, throwing his own head back 
in delight at her attentions. His cock brushed against the swell of her breasts 
and she pushed him back slightly, realizing Dick's difficult position. Lightly, 
she propelled him away from her, until his butt rested once again against the 
sink.

Understanding what she had in mind, Dick reached back and grasped the 
sides of the cool porcelain, bracing himself.

Glancing at her tousled hair and shining eyes in the mirror, Barbara shook 
her head and smiled. The evening had turned out quite differently than she 
expected. Dick raised her chin in his hand questioningly, but she just 
crinkled her nose and grinned.

Languidly she opened her mouth and engulfed the broad, blunt tip of his 
cock. She heard a gasp above her and set to swirling her tongue around 
the plumy helmet, tracing over the fold of skin that covered his glans, 
encircling him with spirals of fiery kisses. His thick shaft already tasted 
of salty sweetness as she gently wrapped one hand around the base and 
started stroking rhythmically, invoking an ancient cadence. Her lips glided 
over his soft slick skin as his hips bucked gently, providing a counterbeat 
to the measure of her erotic orchestrations.

The red velvet curtain of her hair prevented him from seeing what his 
senses informed him was happening as she took more and more of him 
into the warmth of her mouth. Recklessly, he pulled her hair away from 
her face, momentarily withdrawing her from his cock, a glistening trail 
of saliva from her lips keeping a tenuous connection between them. 
Reaching to each other, their lips met, drinking in the taste, the touch, 
the soul of each other's being.

Dick's familiar scent whirled into a heady intoxication that spun Barbara 
about in a storm of emotion. Remembered sensations heightened in the 
bold certainty of the trust she had in him. She tasted a saltiness in their 
and realized she was crying. Dick kissed away her tears and they melted 
on his lips like an ambrosial dew. 

Stringing kisses down his neck, his chest, his stomach, she resumed her 
task with a vigorousness that caught him off-guard, his whole body 
tightening with the aggressiveness of her stroking. Her pent-up desires 
spilled waves over his swollen cock. Spreading his legs to keep his balance, 
his hips writhed while his head dropped back, concentration cording in his 
straining muscles. Her skillful actions spread pleasure into every nerve, 
every pulse, taking him closer and closer to release. He felt her lips 
relentlessly slide up the length of him to caress his throbbing ballsack, 
then slide back down to pull and release the skin at the tip.

As her mouth rhythmically sucked him deeper and deeper inside its 
warmth, her tongue played a side-to-side counterpoint. Then, sheathing 
her teeth with her lips, she played a glissando, gliding down with a gentle 
pressure. 

He felt a warning sting in the base of his spine and thrust harder into 
her mouth, his breath ragged as he tried to control his racing heartbeat.
She took the full measure of him, his strong fingers snarling in her hair 
as he pumped with her, as she sucked and retracted, sucked and retracted.

"Aah...Babs!" Dick groaned loudly, punctuating his exhalations with 
feral savage grunts that reverberated off the room's white tile. "I'm 
going to...I'm...Aah!"

Dick shuddered as his cock erupted, shooting hot white splashes of 
cum against the back of Barbara's throat as she took him as deep as 
she could. Releasing his seed over and over, she matched his pace 
with rhythmic swallows, savoring the creamy confectionery of mango 
and bittersweet chocolate that was the taste of him. 

Slowly she pulled away, tonguing the last drops of cum off his waning 
erection. Raising her eyes, she watched with a deserved smugness as 
he sagged against the washbasin, head lolling to the side, taking deep, 
even breaths until his strength returned. Eyes closed, he smiled as her 
hands traveled up and down his chest and legs, pinching, nipping, 
finding purchase over his soft skin. While tickling behind one kneecap, 
his eyes opened with a mischievous glint she remembered all too well. 

"No, no, don't!" She wheeled back, covering her face in her hands, 
shaking her head. "No, no, no, no! Don't say it, Dick!"

"I've got to, I've just got to!" Bending over, Dick pulled her hands 
away and pressed his nose to hers, grinning from ear to ear. "Holy 
Blowjob, Batgirl."

Barbara caught his lip in her teeth. She felt a satisfaction resurface 
that had been entombed in her despair and it bubbled up from her 
heart through her blood to the ends of her nerves. Seeing the rapture 
in his passion-hooded eyes had made her feel almost whole, almost 
complete as a woman again. She had been able to pleasure someone 
else, if not herself, and it gave her a sense of fulfillment long absent 
from her life. And yet...She wanted more. She wanted it back. Dejected, 
she let go his lip and lowered her head.

"You used to react a lot more violently to my puns," Dick whispered, 
burying his lips in her sweet-scented hair. "I seem to remember 
teeth-marks on one hip that didn't go away for a week." He lowered 
himself to sit on the bathtub rim, wincing at the coldness of the 
porcelain against his bare ass, then sidled her chair closer to him. 
Barbara smiled and sighed.

Cradling the nape of her neck in one hand, he pulled her closer, 
drawing her into a kiss. His tongue circled her lips, then parted 
them gently, dipping in to taste her nectar. The kiss was tender, 
full of love and caring, soft and reassuring. Barbara floated blissfully 
on the ebb and flow as his tongue drifted back and forth, tangling 
with hers, cresting between their lips, then sucking her deeper into 
his mouth. She ran her hands outward over his lean collarbone and 
sheltered them under the cape of his well-developed trapezius 
muscles, melting into him. 

Dick traced lazy patterns through her hair with his fingers, then 
ran them down her arched spine, pressing her closer to him. The 
kiss became more desperate as he trailed his free hand down her 
neck and breastbone, lowering his palm to rub over her stomach, 
then back up to grasp the fullness of her breasts. Barbara's breath 
caught on a sob of pleasure and she raised her hands to run her
 own fingers through his long blue-black hair.

Gently, Dick grazed his thumb across her nipples, then alternated 
feathery strokes of his palm to tease the tips into hardness. His lips 
wandered away from hers to nuzzle into her neck, planting kisses 
along her pulse-points. His breath was hot and spicy as he hovered 
over her shell-like ear. Then he suddenly inhaled and the cool draft 
sent a shiver down her back.

Barbara pushed his head away, then crushed her mouth on his. She 
moaned as he scooped his hands under her shirt, reached around to 
release her bra, then caressed the curve of her lush breasts.

Without warning, Dick pulled her shirt over her head in one 
sweeping motion, dropping it to the floor, her bra following close 
by. He bent to ensnare one taut, rose-hued nipple with his lips, 
flicking his tongue over its pebbly hardness. She tasted like the 
spring mist rising off a field of wildflowers as his hands skimmed 
over her ribs to wrap around her waist. 

She kissed his forehead, his brow, his eyes as he cupped her breast 
in one hand and suckled, her swelling chest rising to fill his mouth 
further with her satiny bosom. Tracing spirals, he abraded her other 
engorged bud with his callused fingers, then trailed down to the 
hollow below her breast towards the flat of her stomach, sending 
tingles through Barbara's middle at his touch. Instinctively his hand 
lowered to rub across her belly, circle her navel, then slid inside the 
waistband of her black sweat pants. Cupping his hand over her mound, 
he slipped several fingers into her warm opening.

Wrenching his lips away from her breast, he looked up at her, his eyes 
wide open in surprise. "Babs -- you're wet."

Flustered, Barbara became aware of the location of his hand. "What?" 
A hot shame suffused her face. She dread the thought of her broken 
body destroying the moment with an unexpected though natural 
bodily function.

A slow smile lit up his face as he shook his head. "Your feminine juices 
are flowing." 

"What?...really?...Oh!..." she stammered. "I mean, I've read medical 
reports but..." Barbara paused, trying not to sound like the reference 
source she had trained herself to be. "You see, sexual... reactions... 
vary for every casualty of paralysis. I didn't know what I would... 
What could happen." She gulped as her eyes reflected an expression 
of delight and wonder.

Planting a kiss on her burning cheek, he laughed softly. "Well, you're 
wetter than a hot day in June, darlin'" He held up his hand to show 
her, his fingers glistening with her moistness, the musky scent of her 
female wetness filling her nostrils. Dick brought his fingers to his lips 
and licked them clean, then caught her mouth with his, placing the 
taste of her onto her tongue.

A shock wave of unmitigated joy exploded from her core, diffusing 
the darkness that had hollowed every fiber of her being for so long. 
If Barbara had harbored doubts earlier about her womanliness, they 
evaporated in the essence of herself in his kiss. Her femininity was 
assured to her, the evidence of its existence was there on his lips, 
something she had thought was gone forever.

Lovingly, Dick scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards 
the bedroom. "I think we should see what else you're capable of, 
Babs."

, she thought, pillowing her head on his broad shoulder. 
Everything, now.

Low lights illuminated the queen-sized bed as Dick lowered 
her gently onto the black satin comforter, and promptly hit his 
head on the suspended bar Barbara used to raise and lower herself 
onto the mattress.

"Ow!" Dick blinked several times to recover from the surprise. He 
tentatively tested the area around the bandage on his forehead, 
having scored a direct hit on the wound. "You doing a circus act 
in here?"

"Sorry." She sighed heavily, fearful how to recapture a shattered 
mood. Dragging herself further onto the bed, she distractedly 
pulled the comforter over her breasts.

Dick pushed the bar slightly, watching it sway over them. "Tell 
me, sweetheart, why is it I have such trouble with trapeze bars?"

Barbara cleared her throat. "Surprising, since you actually do so 
well with long hard rods."

A dark laugh rumbled from this throat as he locked a wicked stare 
onto her gleaming eyes. Dropping onto the bed like a predatory cat, 
he glided up to her and peeled away the quilt, planting a kiss on her 
chin. "You're the one who does so well." Lingering kisses trailed 
their way down her swan-like neck, over the slopes of her breasts, 
pushing her back onto the pillows as he kissed her stomach.

Raising his eyes for approval, Dick hooked his fingers into the 
waistband of her sweat-pants, and slid them off as Barbara watched. 
His nose and mouth hovered over the tight red curls that covered 
her mound, inhaling the spicy aroma. "Mmmmm," he murmured. 
"This is one pussy that doesn't mind being wet."

She buried her face in the pillow, stifling a groan of laughter. 
Reaching out, she raked her hands through his hair, pulling his 
head away from her crotch. "Hey, Short-Pants. This isn't helping."

Dick regarded her with innocent, saucer-wide eyes. "You used 
to love my puns." He pulled his head away from her grasp and 
nuzzled his face in her curls while caressing her thighs, spreading 
them further apart.

Barbara regarded his actions in confusion. "Things change," she 
replied sharply.

Without missing a beat, Dick ran his hands up her hips, pulling 
himself onto her, nipping and licking his way over the flat 
roundness of her belly, around the curves of her waist. His 
tongue settled over her navel, flicking in and out. Barbara 
giggled at his touch. "Not everything, I see."

His fingers reached up to tickle the sensitive flesh in the
hollow below her breasts as his tongue continued its assault. 
Barb's stomach undulated in wiggles and ripples as she laughed 
deeply. "Grayson, stop! Stop it!"

"Stop it! Grayson, stop it!" he mimicked, shifting his hands to 
extend his torments to the crook below her armpits and the swell 
of her abdomen. "You forget, I know =all= your secret places." 

Pulling herself up, Barbara reciprocated, tickling Dick over and 
around his ribcage. He rolled over in surprise, surrendering his 
hands as she caught them in hers, laying his head back across 
her breasts as they laughed together.

Dick brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them, then rolled 
over again onto his stomach. Their mouths now level, he brushed 
his lips over hers.

Barbara arched back as his tongue ground into her mouth, pulling 
him close against her. The passion in his kiss overwhelmed her, 
and she returned his ardor in kind. Parting reluctantly, he snuggled 
into her neck, then caught her earlobe in his teeth. His tongue 
explored its contours, swirling and spiraling around its crescent.

"You're my secret place, Grayson," she whispered. "You're 
my...sanctuary."

She felt him nod against her cheek, then pull back and take a deep 
breath as he looked at her, his gaze piercing her eyes. "You've 
always been mine, Babs." He shrugged, a matter-of-fact smile 
playing over his lips. "I love you."

The statement was true and simple. Barbara wanted to disregard 
it, discard it, but knowing him, knowing the sincerity that was his 
soul, she had to accept it. And though she knew he wasn't expecting 
a corresponding reply, she felt compelled to respond. "I love you, 
too."

And she knew it was as true.

Dick's mouth swarmed over her body, grasping, clutching, catching, 
seizing. He caught her hands in his and raised them above her head, 
stretching her open to him. His mouth enveloped her breast, then 
suddenly pulled away. Barbara shivered as the fervor of his mouth's 
warm moisture chilled at the draft of his moving body.

"Turn over," he rasped.

Slowly she rolled over at his command. Her breasts ached as they 
smashed against the silken comforter and raising on her elbows, 
she reached a hand underneath her to continue stimulating her tender 
nipples. Twisting her neck around, she saw Dick watching her, then 
he replaced her hand with his, abrading her wildly-aroused hard peaks, 
sending spasms of ecstasy through her chest. His hands lowered, lazily 
traveling down her ribcage, to her stomach, then around her waist to 
her back. Gently he pressed down and Barbara rested her head on 
folded arms. His hands hovered above the small of her back, where 
a brand of lines and angles mapped the province of her wound. 

"Tell me what you can feel." 

Looking around at him, her breath caught in her throat as she saw 
the pleading in his eyes. She bit her lip to keep from crying and 
nodded.

Dick scooped her copper tresses to one side and, starting at the 
nape of her neck, planted searing kisses along her backbone. 
Barbara flushed at the contact, fearful of the moment when his 
touch wouldn't be perceived by her flesh. 

Each kiss was a scorching sensation, wrapping sheaths of fire 
around her spine, igniting her blood, sending her nerve-endings 
ablaze. Time stood still as she savored each kindling of passion. 
She arched up as he descended down her body, then curled in 
reverse, as if trying to redirect the line of fire down the slope and 
back towards her neck. There are twenty-six vertebrae in the human 
backbone, she knew, and each one is glowing like a flaming torch. 

The sensation continued on and on until Barbara was sure Dick 
must have reached the point where numbness would dampen the 
fire of his touch. Twisting around, Barbara observed that Dick was 
sitting up, shaking his head. His hands lay flat on the scarred map 
on her tailbone. "Why did you stop?"

"I stopped a long time ago."

"But I can still feel you..."

Dick nodded soberly, rotating her towards him. He lifted her up 
and embraced her tightly, then bent her over and placed another 
row of kisses down her breastbone, lying her down on the soft 
pillows as he continued the line down her torso. Raising up, he 
kissed her breasts, then suckled between them, laving her cleavage 
as he brushed the pads of his fingers over and around her nipples. 
As he lifted up for better balance, Barbara could feel the hardness 
of his once-again erect cock press against her stomach. Reaching 
down, she tenderly stroked his shaft, feeling the hot expulsion of 
his breath between her breasts as he groaned.

Grabbing him by his ass-cheeks, she pulled him higher, rubbing 
his cock against her ribcage. Dick spread his legs around her torso, 
straddling her as he sucked her breast. Sliding her hand up and 
down the length of him, she watched in delight as the muscles in 
his thighs pulsed and tightened, rippling more so when she leaned 
forward to fondle his throbbing balls. 

Dick slid forward, moving towards her mouth, but Barbara pressed 
a hand against his chest, pushing him down again.

"No. I have something else in mind."

Positioning him over her, she lay the swollen, slick tip of his shaft 
at the base of her cleavage. Then, placing her hands on the side of 
her breasts she squeezed them together, forming a hollow. Dick 
plunged through the tunnel created, his breath catching as she 
pressed tighter around his tumescence.

His thrusts became harder and faster as his balls dragged back 
and forth on her breastbone. Replacing her hands with her 
well-developed biceps to hold him tight in the swell of her 
breasts, she raked her fingers up his chest, tweaking his nipples, 
then ran her hands down the cords of his arms, reveling at the 
springy tension in his muscles.

She could feel every ridge and indentation of his cock as it pounded 
against her. Their hearts beat as one, syncopated with the beat of 
his rhythmic pulsations. She twisted and turned under his embrace 
as he pushed her arms aside, pressing her breasts together with his 
own hands, abrading her nipples with his thumbs as he continued 
driving his shaft through the chasm of her mounds.

Catching his eyes, her own brimmed over when she saw the strain 
of holding his release rising on his face. Calmly, Barbara placed 
her hands over his.

He slowed down. "Are you okay?"

"I want to see your cock in me."

She ran her fingers up his shaft again. Dick placed his hand over 
hers and squeezed them together. "Are you sure?"

Barbara nodded, her chest heaving in anticipation. Grabbing the 
hanging bar, she pulled herself upright as Dick gently spread her 
legs apart, pushing her knees outwards. Wrapping his legs around 
her back, he placed the head of his throbbing rod on her moist folds, 
then, meeting her eyes, entered her.

Curling his head into her neck, he gasped loudly. "You're still so tight,
Babs. You feel so good." Pushing forward, Dick began to rock slowly, 
continuing to knead and nuzzle her breasts.

Tentatively, Barbara reached forward and placed one hand over his 
engorged cock as it drove into her. The heat of his shaft burned against 
her skin as his thrusts became more rapid. Their eyes met again as Dick 
brushed his lips against hers, their warm breath swirling in a tempest of 
desire.

She returned her eyes to the junction of their bodies, watching his cock 
disappear in and out of her view. Her heart hammered thunderously with 
their coupling, her body vibrating with rapture as he pounded into her. Her 
senses took wing, climbing to a heightened plateau as she concentrated on 
this moment of bliss. She could hear the springs of the bed squeak in cadence 
with the wet slapping of their skin, smell the scents of their sweat and sex 
rising through the air, feel the cool metal of the hanging bar chill the palm 
of one hand while his hot cock caused a scorching friction as it flew back 
and forth under her other hand. Her fingers wove through the red and black 
curls of their tangled pubic hair and she moaned as she felt the constriction 
of his body against hers as Dick suddenly slowed down. 

"No," she cried, "I want you to cum. Now. Please!"

She wrapped her hand tightly around his base as Dick thrust into her twice 
more before shuddering with the discharge of his release. His cock bucked 
wildly, shooting its fiery seed across her belly. 

Barbara felt the tremors of his orgasm vibrate through her fingers as she 
held him tightly. A surge of warmth diffused across the nape of her neck 
and radiated down her shoulders to her breasts as his cum gushed on her, 
spurting across her abdomen. She felt a pulsing in her throat, a buzzing 
in her ears as she watched his climax.

Fisting the sheets in his hands, he leaned forward, smearing the hot cum 
onto both their stomachs as he caught her mouth in his, plunging his tongue 
between her lips.

Suddenly, a flash of heat shot over her chest, sending currents of pleasure 
coursing through her blood, causing every nerve-ending to clutch and 
burst at the same time. She felt as if she were in free-fall, dropping down 
through a black chasm only to rise up again and again, gasping for oxygen, 
dizzy with the sensation. Her lips twitched under his kiss and she pushed 
him away, then grabbed him back in confusion, tears streaming down her 
face as she held him close. A torrent of abandon billowed in the pit of her 
stomach, rose across her breasts, over her shoulders, up her neck and 
ears, flushing over her face. Her eyelids fluttered as her head lifted, 
buoyed by the overwhelming emotions that soared across her heart. 
Her ecstasy washed every thought of self-doubt and solitude away 
with it.

As Dick steadied his breathing, he placed his head against her cheek 
and could feel her body quiver and pulse. He cradled her in his arms 
as she gasped, writhing against him, pulling, pushing, like a fluttering 
bird captured in the lattice of his hands. He felt her tears on his shoulder 
and turned his face to hers, compassionate and concerned. But she wasn't 
crying. Her body shook with laughter, her tears a shower of glee.

When Barbara saw the saucer-eyed gawk on his face, she laughed deeper, 
remembering the sixteen year-old boy asking the same question as the 
man before her was about to.

Dick's eyes reduced to a bemused gape. "Did you just cum?"

Barbara nodded. "In my own way, yes." 

"Yes?"

"Yes!" Again, she shouted in delight. "Yes!" She fell back against the 
pillows, stretching her arms above her like a contented cat. "It was 
incredible! Across my shoulders, my fingers tingling, my breasts, 
on fire! I mean," she glanced up at him mischievously, "these below 
the waist things may be okay for some, but..." Her look became more 
sober as she tenderly drew circles around his chest. "They're right, you 
know. It's all in the mind. And thanks to you, I..."

Bending over, he licked her nipple with such a quick, raw touch, she 
gasped. His tongue spiraled around, then he ensnared it with his teeth 
and nursed it to hardness, forcing her bud to bloom once more before 
his nurturing artistry. "Dick!" she squealed, tangling her hands in his 
hair.

He loitered for a moment more, then removed his mouth, laying his 
head across her breast. "Didn't want you to think you were losing your 
mind," he intoned mordantly. Raising his head, she could see the teasing 
glint in his eyes and she tugged at an 

"Oh, I think I would be declared disgustingly sane right now." And...as 
much a woman as any double X-chromosomed being could be, she 
marveled to herself. 

Dick scooted up onto the pillows and pulled her back against him into 
a spoon position. Wrapping his arms around her breasts, he buried his 
face into her neck, his warm breath blowing sweetly over her ear. His 
exhalations slowed perceptively as they cuddled together. 

Barbara's chest still heaved from their exertions. She remembered 
multiple orgasms taking forever to subside and this was a similar 
feeling -- the sustain of the beat, the waning bites of the spasms. 
With a rumbling sigh, Dick's hand slipped lower onto her stomach 
as he fell asleep against her. 

Well, turnabout's fair play, she mused. I turned a sixteen year-old 
boy into a man, and that man made me a woman again. She pressed 
tightly into him, assuaged in the sanctuary of his arms. Only once 
before had she felt what she thought emotional fulfillment should be. 

Finally, her eyes grew heavy and closed. In her dreams, she flew 
over the roofs of Gotham City, a red and green bird soaring evenly 
above her right shoulder. 

Barbara woke, the sheets cool against her skin as she reached out a 
hand only to find an empty space next to her in the rumpled bed. 
Raising on her elbows, she hungrily inhaled the tantalizing aroma 
of bacon frying and hot coffee wafting from her percolator. She 
could forgive his desertion if the promise of a large, appetizing 
breakfast was delivered. But, she realized.

Fantasies of being served a tasty repast in bed were dashed as she 
confronted the reality of her situation. Nature was calling to her 
and that meant she had to call to him.

"Dick!" 

"What is it, honey?" Dangling a spatula, he rushed in, wearing 
an extra-large pair of her sweat pants and a Gotham Knights 
tee-shirt. He strode closer to kiss her but she pushed him back.

"I have to...arrgh!" She flailed her hands. 

Dick's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Sounds like?"

"Bathroom. I have to go to the bathroom and my chair's not 
here. It's in there."

"Yes, and?" He could made her feel like an idiot, same as she 
was doing to him.

"Could you please go get it?" 

She shoved herself into the nearest thing she could grab -- a 
faded blue police shirt she lounged in on lazy days -- as he 
rolled the wheelchair beside the bed.

"Pancakes in 10 minutes" he said airily, kissing her soundly 
on the forehead, and pivoted back towards the kitchen.

Barbara wheeled herself to the bathroom and swiveled onto 
the toilet, deftly inserting the catheter to relieve her bladder. 
Too much to drink last night. Didn't eat anything. 

As her eyes wandered to the bath-lift chair opposite of her, 
she thought about the Grayson Industries logo that decorated 
so many of the items in her house. Looking up, she caught Dick 
watching her from the kitchen. "I didn't like that when I could 
walk, I like it even less now."

"You get used to leaving the door open when you live alone. I 
know =I've= gotten caught with my tights down a few times." 
He leaned against the doorjamb, taking in the scene. "Just 
consider it in-the-field research. Never seen any of the 
equipment in use. And it didn't occur to me last night to 
think about your...plumbing."

Barbara removed the cath and flushed the toilet, rapidly 
transferring back to her chair. She shrugged. "I was lucky. 
I didn't need anything permanent." 

"Yeah." His look of wonder suddenly changed to alarm. "I 
didn't...hurt you last night? I told you I didn't realize..."

"No, I was fine." She was overcome with her lack of 
embarrassment in front of him, almost wishing he didn't 
make her feel as comfortable as he did, it made him too 
perfect.

His stare hadn't wavered. "Can you plug cable in there? Get 
ESPN2, maybe?"

"Get out." Okay, he wasn't perfect.

As she washed her hands, she couldn't help thinking about 
his rumpled look and tousled hair -- it was driving her to 
distraction. What had last night meant to him? She knew 
what it meant to her. And what would the cold light of day 
mean to them both? 

Dick stole the last piece of bacon off her plate. "D'ya mind?"

"No," she said, waving him off. Barbara surveyed the mess 
of syrup-sticky plates, grapefruit rinds, orange juice glasses, 
and coffee cups strewn about the dining room table. "You're 
a growing boy."

Dick unsubtly glanced down at his crotch. "Growing is right. 
I thought only Superman had the x-ray vision to see through 
the table."

"Are you saying you ate too much?" she chided. "After all, I 
think there's still a lettuce leaf left in the fridge."

"I'm saying I think we need to find a way to work off this 
divinely-prepared meal." He reached across and took her 
chin in his hand, coming closer to her, but she pulled away 
from his touch.

"Dick...," she faltered. "Last night was great, but...you know, 
our lives are pretty complicated..."

"Uh huh?"

"I'm telling you this because I don't want you to feel...obligated."

"Uh huh?" 

"I mean, what happened last night, I'm grateful and, you were 
great, really."

Dick canted back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his 
head. "Barbara? Are you giving me the brush-off?"

"I'm just saying..."

"That I have an out if I want to take it? You're letting me off 
the hook because you think I'm not that interested in being with 
you? What, was the boy wonder just some boy-toy to you last 
night?"

"No! I'm trying to...I want you to understand..."

"'Cause you could've just said you'd call me later and then I'd 
sit by the phone waiting for a couple of =years= probably and 
then, =maybe,= I'd get the hint, huh?" Eyes slit obliquely, lips 
pursed, his look was inscrutable to her.

An uncomfortable silence pervaded the apartment and she 
realized she'd made a bigger mess than the breakfast dishes.

Then Dick leaned forward and took her hands in his. "You 
know I don't trust that many people." He laughed grimly at 
the understatement. "I know you don't, either. I thought you 
trusted me."

"I do! I just thought..." A familiar feeling of despair chilled 
her soul. "I don't know what I thought."

His mouth brushed against her cheek. "What did I say about 
thinking?" Sweeping over her face, his lips caressed her eyelids. 
"I'll do the thinking, " he nodded at her. "And I think we belong 
together." His kiss flooded her with warmth and comfort, washing 
over her doubts, cleansing her misgivings.

Her eyes shone as he gently pulled away and smiled at her. "I just 
hope you realize what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, I know too well!" Barbara started stacking the dishes as she 
counted the ways. "Having to laugh at your bad jokes which you 
truly believe are funny. Trying to hold a conversation with a guy 
who's as sexist as they come. And you snore, you know. Not to 
mention the way you leave all your clothing on the floor. You're 
a first class slob and you always have been. And you're always late 
because of some crime-fighting activity or another because you're 
such a boy scout..."

Dick caught her mouth with his again, swallowing her words with 
his kiss. She giggled at his assault to silence her tirade as they 
reluctantly broke it off. "I love you too, Babs."

He bent to her again, with a deeper, more honest intent in his 
kiss when a resonate chiming startled them apart. 

Barbara fixed him with a glare. "If you say you hear bells ring 
when we kiss, I'll find some way, however miraculous, to kick 
you."

Again, the doorbell rang, a bit more persistently. Dick 
straightened up. "I'll get it."

"Check the outside camera first, please."

Dick strode to the door just as a key was inserted and Jim
 Gordon, Gotham City's Commissioner of Police and Barbara's 
adopted father, walked in. 

Surprised at each other's presence, they stood motionless until 
Dick recovered his senses first. "Good morning, sir."

"Grayson?"

A Starbucks sack holding two coffees sagged in his hand as 
Gordon eyed him up and down, taking in the sweat pants, the
 tee-shirt and the bandage on his forehead. Dick grabbed the 
bag as it drooped. "I'll take that, sir."

Gordon called over his shoulder. "Barbara?"

Her voice echoed too loudly for her own comfort as she yelled 
out. "Come in, Dad. I'm in the dining room."

Motioning for the older man to precede him, they made their 
way silently to join Barbara at the table. Dick set the bag down 
and smiled, then thought better and set his mouth in an innocent 
line.

Gordon cleared his throat uneasily. "Thought I'd bring the coffee
 to you, since you hate those yuppie places, but I guess..."

"I've had enough, but please have some breakfast with us. Have 
you eaten?" She was sure her cheeks were the same color as her 
hair. 

"No, I'll just pick up something at the station."

"No trouble, sir." Dick fled back into the kitchen, stretching his 
mouth into a grimace as he passed her.

Gordon rocked back on his feet a moment before heading towards 
the bathroom. "I'll, uh, just..." He mimed washing his hands as he 
limped away.

Barbara laid her head down on her arms and groaned. 

Passing along the hallway, Gordon noticed the bed in the guest 
room that was made so tight you could bounce a quarter off it, 
then the rumpled sheets in Barbara's room. A puddle of black 
and blue material spilled out of the laundry basket in the bathroom 
as he soaped up. 

Three heaping stacks of low-calorie maple syrup-decorated 
pancakes later, Gordon pushed back his plate and smiled. A 
delicious breakfast and two steaming cups of non-yuppie decaf 
coffee had him feeling more at ease, perhaps even generous, at 
stumbling into their love nest, as he thought of it.

"You sure you don't want any more, Daddy"

Gordon pat his satisfied stomach. "No, I have to be going. There 
was a break-in at the Revolutionary Art Museum and I want to 
check the scene one more time before they let people in for the 
day." 

"Any clues to the purr-petrator?" Dick asked innocently. He 
cringed as Barbara pinched his arm.

"We'll figure it out, don't worry." Gordon stood up, kissing his 
daughter on the cheek, and with a nod of his head, indicated Dick 
should follow. "Walk me out, son."

At the doorway, Dick helped him into his coat as Gordon prepared 
to leave. "Do I hear you're living in Bludhaven?"

"Yes sir, but I'm up here in Gotham all the time. Grayson Industries 
has become a real growing concern."

Gordon glanced around, acknowledging he knew he was surrounded 
by equipment bearing the acrobat logo. "It certainly has an active 
R & D department." A smile crinkled his mouth. 

"You've really helped out my daughter, Dick. In more ways than I'm 
sure I know." His eyes rolled nonchalantly to look at something that 
wasn't there. "I don't think I've ever thanked you properly." He placed 
a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed a little too tightly. 
Then, releasing him, Gordon casually took out and checked the gun 
slung under the left side of his coat. "I'm sure you've heard how fathers 
feel about daughters, eh? They're very important to us." His smile 
broadened as he nonchalantly reholstered the gun. 

"She's important to me, too, sir. I always want to do right by her."

"Good, good. And Dick," Gordon opened the door part way. "I've 
known you since you were a snot-nosed kid in short pants. Why 
don't you call me Jim?"

"Uh, sure," Dick smiled at the gesture. "Jim." 

"See you around." Gordon closed the door behind him, chuckling 
softly as Dick heaved a deep sigh, wiping away a sheen of sweat 
on his forehead. 

Barbara cleaned the last dish and stuck it in the dishwasher as 
Dick walked into the kitchen. "You came back? I thought for sure 
I'd see your very cute ass hightailing it south after a grilling from 
the master interrogator."

"Nah," Dick intoned casually. "Your Dad and I are old buds. We 
understand each other." He bent over, rubbing her nose with his. 
"He understands I love you and I understand that I'll never be able 
to show my very cute ass in Gotham again if I ever do you wrong."

"Yup, that's my Dad."

Dick nibbled on her neck, biting her ear. "So what do you want to 
do now? I'm up for anything except the crime-fighting gig today."

Well..." An impish smile played across Barbara's face. "There's this 
exhibit I'm interested in seeing. Erotic Toyland at the Revolutionaire 
Art Museum? I hear it's the cat's meow..." 


The End