Relieving Tension, Batman/Robin, Millerverse, Mature
Title: Relieving Tension
Fandom: DC Millerverse
Pairing: Batman/Robin
Word count: 2750
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage (extreme, but still post-puberty), verbal humiliation, orgasm control, dubcon.
Summary: Dick really wants to be allowed out on patrol.
Other/setting info: Written for the
kink_bingo; kink: humiliation (verbal). Here is my kink bingo card.
I've never written anything like this, but that's the point of the kink bingo, isn't it? Requested by boojums-snark; consequently, I blame everything on her.
Thanks to inabathrobe for the beta.
Relieving Tension
Dick's exhausted and forcing himself to stay awake, curled in a corner of the Cave. He's staring at the pool of water from which the car (submarine?) will emerge anytime now. Anytime. He's been telling himself that for a few hours now, but he's not letting it go because if he does, he'll never get to go out with Batman on patrol. He knows it's not really about him being ready; it's just about Batman making the decisions that are the best for the Mission, and Dick has no idea when he'll be ready for that. Maybe, it will be weeks or months; it doesn't matter. He can do this if he takes it slow, step by step; he has to show Batman that he can help, and the first step is to show him that he won't be falling asleep on patrol. He has to drill himself until he doesn't need more than four, maybe five, hours of sleep every night.
So he waits for Batman to come back from patrol every night to show him that he can be awake and there for him, that Batman can trust him not to fail, not to be useless. Maybe, he won't be useful for a while (Dick thinks he will, but Batman has the most ridiculous standards) but as long as he's not useless, as long as he doesn't slow Batman down, there is no reason to leave him behind.
He has a name and a costume, and Batman gave them to him, so he has to be on the path to what he wants. He'll get involved. Soon.
He stops looking at the water for a second, just a second, so he can lean his head on his knees and rest his eyes. Next thing he knows, he's being woken up by the sound of an engine. He's standing up by the time Batman slides out. Their eyes meet, and the man glowers down at Dick.
"You were sleeping."
Dick can't answer because Batman's right and, of course, he would know, so he simply holds the stare until he just can't hold it anymore and he looks down, which is what he has to do to show that he understands and he knows he's the one in the wrong. Batman doesn't ask him to explain himself and acts as if he'd been expecting this from Dick. He probably had.
Dick hears the cape rumple as Batman turns and walks away. "Get out."
He thinks about saying something and changes his mind. There's really nothing he can say that will make this all right; all he can do is spend more time conditioning his body. It's not his fault, and Batman knows that. Batman isn't really angry --maybe disappointed, but not angry. He just needs time.
He goes up the stairs to the Manor and shuffles his way to his room. He falls asleep the moment he's lying down.
*
He's been good; he knows he has. Batman doesn't tell him when he's impressed or pleased, but Dick knows. It's surprising how well he can read the man already, even though he's extremely hard to read. It's not easy and, okay, he can't tell what Batman is thinking most of the time, but sometimes he can, and those times mean a lot.
He's been good, and Batman doesn't seem to even be considering bringing him out with him. It was all his idea, he told Dick to get a costume and work with him, and now that Dick is sure it's something he wants and that he wants it more than pretty much anything, he can't.
Batman comes back to the Cave one day, and Dick is training on the bars because he likes it and it doesn't require him to concentrate too much. It keeps him awake, and he thinks Batman prefers to see him doing something, rather than simply waiting for him.
Batman looks at him when he steps out of the car, nods once, fast and subtle, and says his usual get-out, but it's spoken a bit more softly than usual. Dick knows better than to think it's because Batman's happy about something or is feeling nice tonight.
"Something wrong?" he asks, letting himself land on the floor gracefully.
"I told you to get out, punk." And there's that small something in Batman's voice. Exhaustion. Something is wrong with the way he moves, and if Dick hadn't spent his entire life doing acrobatics and watching how other people move, he wouldn't have been able to tell what was wrong.
"You're hurt. Left side."
Batman doesn't stop and doesn't look at him. It's one of those times when Dick can't tell at all what he's thinking, whether he's impressed that he could tell or just really annoyed and wants him to leave him alone right now. The silence stretches, and Batman walks up to the mega-computer, sitting down and opening files.
Dick is still very much awake and feeling daring. "Maybe, it wouldn't have happened if you'd had a partner with you."
"If you can't follow orders here, how am I supposed to know you'll be able to if you're out with me?" Batamn growls, low and dangerous. Dick almost wants to let it go and run upstairs.
"I can when it's important." He bites his lower lip and breathes out slowly. "Please, I know I'll be useful. You know it, too." Batman doesn't interrupt him, so he continues quickly, "I wanna help. I've done good, right?"
There is no answer, and it's okay. If he'd pushed too much, he'd get an answer or... something. Batman never hides away when he's annoyed. He thinks about pushing more, but then it'd probably be too much.
He wants to go out and not just for selfish reasons like how he wants to finally be allowed to breathe fresh air, but also because there are killers out there, men who killed Batman's parents, who killed his, and who killed children and wives and lovers. There are always people who need help, and the city is at war with itself, isn't it? Batman can't do it alone.
Dick wants to grapple because he hasn't in weeks. He wants to punch someone in the face because he has frustrations that he's been repressing and needs to get rid of, and there is no better way to do it than patrolling, is there?
He throws a last glance at Batman and mumbles, "Good night. Get your injury checked out," before going up the stairs to bed.
*
The costume feels weird. It's heavier than the acrobat tights because of all the protective armour and the belt... The belt isn't anywhere as huge or heavy as Batman's, but Dick is used to nothing blocking his movements when he's flying. Now, he understands why he's wearing armour and weapons of course, and he's been training with all of them, but it's not the same when he's hundreds of feet above the ground, hanging from a wire between buildings.
It's a fantastic feeling.
He's been kept on the sidelines and tested by Batman for nearly two months. A ridiculous two months because Dick knew how to fight already, and he'd proved himself able to keep up with Batman in two weeks.
Batman never explained to him why he wasn't allowing him out. He's Batman, though, so he must have had good reasons, but it annoys Dick that he was never told. These were decisions he was making about him; he should have been allowed to know.
But it's stupid to dwell on it now when he's out and flying. He has to concentrate to do everything perfectly, so that Batman doesn't change his mind. He can't be a liability, he has to be great, and he would completely understand if Batman benched him again if he screwed up on his first night.
It's so hard to concentrate and live up to Batman's expectations (or, really, his own expectations since Batman has never voiced what he wanted from him) when he's allowed out after waiting for so long. He's been kept on the edge, has been annoying Batman for so long, has been trying to avoid really annoying him. Everything about patrolling is exhilarating and almost out of his control. There's a rush coming from every swing, every order Batman gives him. Everything -- everything.
He isn't even thinking about potential fights until Batman's voice in his ears is telling him, sharp and dangerous, "Robin, down," and they're landing between buildings. The next thing Dick knows, Batman is breaking a man's arm, Dick is giving some guy a concussion, and a woman is professing her love for Batman before they grapple their way out. The fight was too fast, finished too soon, but it came naturally to Dick. He wants a moment to just enjoy everything going on, to live the afterglow of it all, to let it set, so he can remember it.
They don't have time, though. The city needs them.
*
The rush fades in the car where Dick can lean back against the leather seat and grin, not trying to calm his breathing down. Batman hasn't scolded him once during the whole night, and Dick knows that means he'll be patrolling with him again tomorrow.
It's only when the adrenaline stops dampening his senses that he realises how uncomfortable he is because of an erection pressing against his jock. He's not sure since when, but it's not anything apparent because of the armor. It's not anything particularly surprising, either. The night had been all raw emotion and sensation and adrenaline and fear. These things happen.
But all the logic in the world can't get rid of his embarrassment, and he avoids talking to Batman the entire ride, but it's not as if Batman were going to start a conversation anyway.
He jumps out of the car as soon as they're back and heads for the stairs, so he can take a shower in his room, jerk off quickly and quietly, and go to sleep afterward. Batman stops him.
"Robin, shower."
Dick winces and presses his lips together. "No, it's okay. I'll shower in my room," he says resolutely.
"No uniforms upstairs."
"But --"
"Robin."
He knew about that particular rule, and he doesn't want to push Batman into changing his mind. He had a good night out, and he can't stop listening to him now. The rule about uniforms is a good one, too, one that he should respect.
Dick can't help swearing at his body internally because anyone else would have softened at least a little at Batman giving them an order like this, but he hasn't. Not one bit.
"Sure," he mumbles and dodges for the shower. He could take a cold one and kill his erection that way. But he's twelve, he knows how long his erections can last if he tries ignoring them, and he knows how quickly he can make himself get some kind of relief if he does touch himself. He could be done in thirty seconds. Maybe less.
Thirty seconds that he doesn't have because, even after he undresses with speed and efficiency, Batman is under the hot water a few feet away from him too soon for him to be able to do anything. He doesn't look at Batman and turns around away from him, soaping himself up, but he knows that it's too late and that it's useless trying to hide something like this from Batman when he hears the man snickering.
"You going to do something about that, kid?"
Dick is petrified, already humiliated, and unsure if the best course of action is to ignore Batman -- but the best course of action is never to ignore Batman, so he doesn't look at his mentor and shakes his head. The tiles on the floor are incredibly interesting.
"It doesn't matter. I can deal."
Another snicker, but this one sounds more amused to Dick's ears than the last one. "Sure, you can, punk. And then you'll run to your room and deal for all of ten seconds. Think I don't know you well enough? You don't have any control over anything. You're impatient and reckless."
Dick hears his breathing quicken, but he's not sure if it's because he's angry or disappointed. He did well. He knows he's normally impatient, but he did well tonight. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It will be okay, he'll do better next time, Batman will see.
"Look at me," Batman says, and Dick does before he can think about it. He's naked, too, (of course, he is), but the fact hits him harder now somehow. He still looks imposing, possibly even more than so when he's in uniform. Even without the cowl, there's no Bruce Wayne right now: it's all Batman, scowling at him.
He looks right into Dick's eyes until Dick can't hold the stare anymore, and then-- maybe that's a smile. Dick isn't sure. Either way, Batman's expression is-- judgmental. Disgusted, maybe. Probably. He'd be right to be.
"Don't be an idiot, and take care of it."
Dick's eyes widen, and he freezes, not moving a muscle.
"What are you waiting for?"
He feels-- He doesn't know. He's not sure what he feels or what he's supposed to feel, but he's turning away again, his back to Batman now. He nearly asks why, but doesn't. He can't question Batman's orders. That's not how it works. He puts his fist around himself and starts stroking himself, hard and fast, not daring to look over his shoulder and see if Batman's watching him.
He doesn't want Batman to see him like this, he feels helpless, and he misses the control he usually has over his body. He knows Batman is disappointed in him, and something in the back of his mind tells him it wouldn't be the same if Batman had really wanted him to touch himself. But he doesn't, and this is just resignation and disappointment, and it hurts.
Not that Dick has any choice but to deal with it.
"I told you to look at me."
Dick gulps and closes his eyes as he turns around, still not entirely facing Batman. He glances at Batman and hopes whatever Batman sees in his face isn't anything he'll hate.
"Go faster. Don't come."
Dick gasps. "I -- I can't --"
"Go faster. Don't come."
Dick whimpers and sends Batman a pleading look as he listens, moving his hand faster. He could loosen up his hold, fake that he's listening maybe, and-- And Batman would know, wouldn't he? He'd have to. His legs are suddenly not enough to keep himself upright. He has to lean against the tiled shower wall, and contract every muscle in his body to stop himself from coming. He doesn't know how he's going to stop himself, but he has to. He can't come. He --
Oh, God, he has to slow down right now--
"Who told you to slow down?"
He sobs twice and picks up the pace again. "Please, Batman, I can't --"
"Listen. Control yourself. You're a worthless kid, and you know it. You're only good at following orders, so you better do that right. Am I wrong?" Dick wails, the sound hitting the walls of the showers, loud and clear.
"Am. I. Wrong?"
"No, you're-- you're right. You're always--" Another sob, and Dick's slowly sliding down the wall, having a hard time making his legs listen when he asks them to work. "Please. I'm controlling myself. Please. Pleasepleaseplease--" It's mumbled, close to some chant, and it's something Dick can concentrate on instead of thinking about his orgasm, so close it hurts.
But Batman doesn't give him permission, so he doesn't slow down again, fully aware that it would make him angry, and then it's too late. His orgasm is ripping a yell out of him, not in release and desire, but an angry and disappointed yell.
No. No.
He lets himself slide on the floor, curling on himself and bringing his knees up. He can't look at Batman anymore.
"Get clean. Go to sleep."
"I'll -- Batman, I'm sor--"
"Don't say you're sorry. Do better next time."
He stays curled on the floor of the shower long after Batman has left.
Fic written on pornday
Fandom: DC Millerverse
Pairing: Batman/Robin
Word count: 2750
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage (extreme, but still post-puberty), verbal humiliation, orgasm control, dubcon.
Summary: Dick really wants to be allowed out on patrol.
Other/setting info: Written for the
kink_bingo; kink: humiliation (verbal). Here is my kink bingo card.
I've never written anything like this, but that's the point of the kink bingo, isn't it? Requested by boojums-snark; consequently, I blame everything on her.
Thanks to inabathrobe for the beta.
Relieving Tension
Dick's exhausted and forcing himself to stay awake, curled in a corner of the Cave. He's staring at the pool of water from which the car (submarine?) will emerge anytime now. Anytime. He's been telling himself that for a few hours now, but he's not letting it go because if he does, he'll never get to go out with Batman on patrol. He knows it's not really about him being ready; it's just about Batman making the decisions that are the best for the Mission, and Dick has no idea when he'll be ready for that. Maybe, it will be weeks or months; it doesn't matter. He can do this if he takes it slow, step by step; he has to show Batman that he can help, and the first step is to show him that he won't be falling asleep on patrol. He has to drill himself until he doesn't need more than four, maybe five, hours of sleep every night.
So he waits for Batman to come back from patrol every night to show him that he can be awake and there for him, that Batman can trust him not to fail, not to be useless. Maybe, he won't be useful for a while (Dick thinks he will, but Batman has the most ridiculous standards) but as long as he's not useless, as long as he doesn't slow Batman down, there is no reason to leave him behind.
He has a name and a costume, and Batman gave them to him, so he has to be on the path to what he wants. He'll get involved. Soon.
He stops looking at the water for a second, just a second, so he can lean his head on his knees and rest his eyes. Next thing he knows, he's being woken up by the sound of an engine. He's standing up by the time Batman slides out. Their eyes meet, and the man glowers down at Dick.
"You were sleeping."
Dick can't answer because Batman's right and, of course, he would know, so he simply holds the stare until he just can't hold it anymore and he looks down, which is what he has to do to show that he understands and he knows he's the one in the wrong. Batman doesn't ask him to explain himself and acts as if he'd been expecting this from Dick. He probably had.
Dick hears the cape rumple as Batman turns and walks away. "Get out."
He thinks about saying something and changes his mind. There's really nothing he can say that will make this all right; all he can do is spend more time conditioning his body. It's not his fault, and Batman knows that. Batman isn't really angry --maybe disappointed, but not angry. He just needs time.
He goes up the stairs to the Manor and shuffles his way to his room. He falls asleep the moment he's lying down.
*
He's been good; he knows he has. Batman doesn't tell him when he's impressed or pleased, but Dick knows. It's surprising how well he can read the man already, even though he's extremely hard to read. It's not easy and, okay, he can't tell what Batman is thinking most of the time, but sometimes he can, and those times mean a lot.
He's been good, and Batman doesn't seem to even be considering bringing him out with him. It was all his idea, he told Dick to get a costume and work with him, and now that Dick is sure it's something he wants and that he wants it more than pretty much anything, he can't.
Batman comes back to the Cave one day, and Dick is training on the bars because he likes it and it doesn't require him to concentrate too much. It keeps him awake, and he thinks Batman prefers to see him doing something, rather than simply waiting for him.
Batman looks at him when he steps out of the car, nods once, fast and subtle, and says his usual get-out, but it's spoken a bit more softly than usual. Dick knows better than to think it's because Batman's happy about something or is feeling nice tonight.
"Something wrong?" he asks, letting himself land on the floor gracefully.
"I told you to get out, punk." And there's that small something in Batman's voice. Exhaustion. Something is wrong with the way he moves, and if Dick hadn't spent his entire life doing acrobatics and watching how other people move, he wouldn't have been able to tell what was wrong.
"You're hurt. Left side."
Batman doesn't stop and doesn't look at him. It's one of those times when Dick can't tell at all what he's thinking, whether he's impressed that he could tell or just really annoyed and wants him to leave him alone right now. The silence stretches, and Batman walks up to the mega-computer, sitting down and opening files.
Dick is still very much awake and feeling daring. "Maybe, it wouldn't have happened if you'd had a partner with you."
"If you can't follow orders here, how am I supposed to know you'll be able to if you're out with me?" Batamn growls, low and dangerous. Dick almost wants to let it go and run upstairs.
"I can when it's important." He bites his lower lip and breathes out slowly. "Please, I know I'll be useful. You know it, too." Batman doesn't interrupt him, so he continues quickly, "I wanna help. I've done good, right?"
There is no answer, and it's okay. If he'd pushed too much, he'd get an answer or... something. Batman never hides away when he's annoyed. He thinks about pushing more, but then it'd probably be too much.
He wants to go out and not just for selfish reasons like how he wants to finally be allowed to breathe fresh air, but also because there are killers out there, men who killed Batman's parents, who killed his, and who killed children and wives and lovers. There are always people who need help, and the city is at war with itself, isn't it? Batman can't do it alone.
Dick wants to grapple because he hasn't in weeks. He wants to punch someone in the face because he has frustrations that he's been repressing and needs to get rid of, and there is no better way to do it than patrolling, is there?
He throws a last glance at Batman and mumbles, "Good night. Get your injury checked out," before going up the stairs to bed.
*
The costume feels weird. It's heavier than the acrobat tights because of all the protective armour and the belt... The belt isn't anywhere as huge or heavy as Batman's, but Dick is used to nothing blocking his movements when he's flying. Now, he understands why he's wearing armour and weapons of course, and he's been training with all of them, but it's not the same when he's hundreds of feet above the ground, hanging from a wire between buildings.
It's a fantastic feeling.
He's been kept on the sidelines and tested by Batman for nearly two months. A ridiculous two months because Dick knew how to fight already, and he'd proved himself able to keep up with Batman in two weeks.
Batman never explained to him why he wasn't allowing him out. He's Batman, though, so he must have had good reasons, but it annoys Dick that he was never told. These were decisions he was making about him; he should have been allowed to know.
But it's stupid to dwell on it now when he's out and flying. He has to concentrate to do everything perfectly, so that Batman doesn't change his mind. He can't be a liability, he has to be great, and he would completely understand if Batman benched him again if he screwed up on his first night.
It's so hard to concentrate and live up to Batman's expectations (or, really, his own expectations since Batman has never voiced what he wanted from him) when he's allowed out after waiting for so long. He's been kept on the edge, has been annoying Batman for so long, has been trying to avoid really annoying him. Everything about patrolling is exhilarating and almost out of his control. There's a rush coming from every swing, every order Batman gives him. Everything -- everything.
He isn't even thinking about potential fights until Batman's voice in his ears is telling him, sharp and dangerous, "Robin, down," and they're landing between buildings. The next thing Dick knows, Batman is breaking a man's arm, Dick is giving some guy a concussion, and a woman is professing her love for Batman before they grapple their way out. The fight was too fast, finished too soon, but it came naturally to Dick. He wants a moment to just enjoy everything going on, to live the afterglow of it all, to let it set, so he can remember it.
They don't have time, though. The city needs them.
*
The rush fades in the car where Dick can lean back against the leather seat and grin, not trying to calm his breathing down. Batman hasn't scolded him once during the whole night, and Dick knows that means he'll be patrolling with him again tomorrow.
It's only when the adrenaline stops dampening his senses that he realises how uncomfortable he is because of an erection pressing against his jock. He's not sure since when, but it's not anything apparent because of the armor. It's not anything particularly surprising, either. The night had been all raw emotion and sensation and adrenaline and fear. These things happen.
But all the logic in the world can't get rid of his embarrassment, and he avoids talking to Batman the entire ride, but it's not as if Batman were going to start a conversation anyway.
He jumps out of the car as soon as they're back and heads for the stairs, so he can take a shower in his room, jerk off quickly and quietly, and go to sleep afterward. Batman stops him.
"Robin, shower."
Dick winces and presses his lips together. "No, it's okay. I'll shower in my room," he says resolutely.
"No uniforms upstairs."
"But --"
"Robin."
He knew about that particular rule, and he doesn't want to push Batman into changing his mind. He had a good night out, and he can't stop listening to him now. The rule about uniforms is a good one, too, one that he should respect.
Dick can't help swearing at his body internally because anyone else would have softened at least a little at Batman giving them an order like this, but he hasn't. Not one bit.
"Sure," he mumbles and dodges for the shower. He could take a cold one and kill his erection that way. But he's twelve, he knows how long his erections can last if he tries ignoring them, and he knows how quickly he can make himself get some kind of relief if he does touch himself. He could be done in thirty seconds. Maybe less.
Thirty seconds that he doesn't have because, even after he undresses with speed and efficiency, Batman is under the hot water a few feet away from him too soon for him to be able to do anything. He doesn't look at Batman and turns around away from him, soaping himself up, but he knows that it's too late and that it's useless trying to hide something like this from Batman when he hears the man snickering.
"You going to do something about that, kid?"
Dick is petrified, already humiliated, and unsure if the best course of action is to ignore Batman -- but the best course of action is never to ignore Batman, so he doesn't look at his mentor and shakes his head. The tiles on the floor are incredibly interesting.
"It doesn't matter. I can deal."
Another snicker, but this one sounds more amused to Dick's ears than the last one. "Sure, you can, punk. And then you'll run to your room and deal for all of ten seconds. Think I don't know you well enough? You don't have any control over anything. You're impatient and reckless."
Dick hears his breathing quicken, but he's not sure if it's because he's angry or disappointed. He did well. He knows he's normally impatient, but he did well tonight. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It will be okay, he'll do better next time, Batman will see.
"Look at me," Batman says, and Dick does before he can think about it. He's naked, too, (of course, he is), but the fact hits him harder now somehow. He still looks imposing, possibly even more than so when he's in uniform. Even without the cowl, there's no Bruce Wayne right now: it's all Batman, scowling at him.
He looks right into Dick's eyes until Dick can't hold the stare anymore, and then-- maybe that's a smile. Dick isn't sure. Either way, Batman's expression is-- judgmental. Disgusted, maybe. Probably. He'd be right to be.
"Don't be an idiot, and take care of it."
Dick's eyes widen, and he freezes, not moving a muscle.
"What are you waiting for?"
He feels-- He doesn't know. He's not sure what he feels or what he's supposed to feel, but he's turning away again, his back to Batman now. He nearly asks why, but doesn't. He can't question Batman's orders. That's not how it works. He puts his fist around himself and starts stroking himself, hard and fast, not daring to look over his shoulder and see if Batman's watching him.
He doesn't want Batman to see him like this, he feels helpless, and he misses the control he usually has over his body. He knows Batman is disappointed in him, and something in the back of his mind tells him it wouldn't be the same if Batman had really wanted him to touch himself. But he doesn't, and this is just resignation and disappointment, and it hurts.
Not that Dick has any choice but to deal with it.
"I told you to look at me."
Dick gulps and closes his eyes as he turns around, still not entirely facing Batman. He glances at Batman and hopes whatever Batman sees in his face isn't anything he'll hate.
"Go faster. Don't come."
Dick gasps. "I -- I can't --"
"Go faster. Don't come."
Dick whimpers and sends Batman a pleading look as he listens, moving his hand faster. He could loosen up his hold, fake that he's listening maybe, and-- And Batman would know, wouldn't he? He'd have to. His legs are suddenly not enough to keep himself upright. He has to lean against the tiled shower wall, and contract every muscle in his body to stop himself from coming. He doesn't know how he's going to stop himself, but he has to. He can't come. He --
Oh, God, he has to slow down right now--
"Who told you to slow down?"
He sobs twice and picks up the pace again. "Please, Batman, I can't --"
"Listen. Control yourself. You're a worthless kid, and you know it. You're only good at following orders, so you better do that right. Am I wrong?" Dick wails, the sound hitting the walls of the showers, loud and clear.
"Am. I. Wrong?"
"No, you're-- you're right. You're always--" Another sob, and Dick's slowly sliding down the wall, having a hard time making his legs listen when he asks them to work. "Please. I'm controlling myself. Please. Pleasepleaseplease--" It's mumbled, close to some chant, and it's something Dick can concentrate on instead of thinking about his orgasm, so close it hurts.
But Batman doesn't give him permission, so he doesn't slow down again, fully aware that it would make him angry, and then it's too late. His orgasm is ripping a yell out of him, not in release and desire, but an angry and disappointed yell.
No. No.
He lets himself slide on the floor, curling on himself and bringing his knees up. He can't look at Batman anymore.
"Get clean. Go to sleep."
"I'll -- Batman, I'm sor--"
"Don't say you're sorry. Do better next time."
He stays curled on the floor of the shower long after Batman has left.
Fic written on pornday