A/N: This is drabble number five in the Trust series I and Katarin wrote. The situation so far is like that: Alfred and Tim got fed up with Bruce and Dick over their stubborn mooning and not approaching behaviour. So the two decided to knock Dick and Bruce out, handcuff them to each other in a lonely cell and leave the two men into the room until they resolved things between themselves . The whole series can be found at . Don't forget to put the three w-s before the link.

Note: Sequel to mine and Katarin's Trust drabbles. Sorry I just couldn't resist. The situation just demanded the beginning line to being used here. Now Katarin care to do the thing from Dick's point of view?

Trust 5
by annakas

Bruce's point of view

I wasn't thinking about sex when I came awake because of the unsettling click of the cuffs, and I definitely was not nervous about being alone with my Dick. Not that I didn't have any bondage fantasies about Dick and myself but this was not a way I thought they would ever happen. And now when our relationship was over this should stay a territory better left alone. And what the hell am I thinking MY DICK? This will not do. Not at all.

And so it happened when I saw who was the culprit for my current state, being cuffed to Dick, I made the only thing I knew would save me from this delicate situation and what had saved me many times before form worse. I used the bat-voice, the one that makes criminals shake in terror and pee their pants, and ordered: "unlock the cuffs."

A shake of head was not the reaction I was aiming for from Tim. I was prepared for an ┬┤apology and what was I thinking and it will never happen again thing but not a shake of head thing.

My hopes of rescue were shattered when Tim announced that Alfred was in on this treachery. I am surrounded by traitors. Can't I trust anyone? First Dick, then Tim and now Alfred. Sometimes it really sucks to be me. So he leaves after his smug order to play nice. And now I am alone with my Dick.

My Dick? Where the hell that comes from? There is no me and him none of that. We both are quiet.

I steal a glance at him, he is fuming. He always looked beautiful when he was angry. So full of fire and passion that it always made my knees weak. That is of course one of the reasons why I never was good when we sparred with words. It's kind of hard to mince words when all the blood from your brain is going down to other regions of your body. Every time he was angry I wanted his fire to burn me, to take me, to melt me, to own me, to dominate me...

NONOnonononooooo my thoughts will not go there, nope, not at all, I am not thinking about Dick. And what a beautiful dick he has so long and... NO I am not thinking of that with him. Not at all. New topic I need a new topic. Counting in Creek backwards it is.

How long have we been here? We both are still quiet. I steal another glance at him. He is pouting now. He always looked beautiful when he sulked. It always made him look so pure and innocent. It always made me want to hug him, to hold him tenderly, to dominate him... Oh not again. My thoughts will not go there, nope not at all. I need a new topic. Counting in Russian backwards it is...

How long will they keep us here? I haven't felt my hand for a long time already. How long have we been here? Ten hours? Twelve hours? I steal another glance at him. He is looking sad now. He was always
beautiful when he looked sad. So fragile and delicate. It made me always want to soothe his troubles away, to hold him, to make him laugh again, to share his burden with him. I hated when he looked sad. Because it made me sad when he was sad. I still hate it when he is sad. He is sad now.

I look at him again. But now he is looking back at me. With this sad-longing look. Longing for me. Sad because of me. Asking for another chance with his sad eyes, he is too afraid to ask for it out loud. I don't want to see him sad. I hate it when he is sad. I want to see his eyes happy again. I could never resist his sad eyes. So I do the only thing that I know would make him lose the sad look.

I lean forward and capture his soft lips and kiss him tenderly. No words said. He is kissing back. I can not resist my heart. Resistance is futile like Tim said. And he was right it indeed was futile.