Disclaimer: The characters are owned by DC. Not mine, never will be. No money is being made from this piece of fiction.
There were a few times when the Batman longed to be just plain Bruce Wayne. Weak. Fallible. Human. This was one of those times. He wished he could crawl into bed and take care of his condition privately, behind closed doors. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was the Batman and the Batman would never just give in to his body's natural urge for self-gratification. He had trained enough in his youth to stave off his body's needs for a time, including this, but he also learned from experience that the longer he put things off, the harder the urge returned. Like now. During a stakeout of all times.
He tried to touch his tender member surreptitiously, trying to ease it a bit, yet trying not to attract Nightwing's attention. He failed at the latter.
Nightwing glanced to at his partner and smirked a bit, noticing his discomfiture. Surprisingly for once, he was quite mature about it.
"Ah, I see it's happened to you too. Yeah, a couple of the guys at the precinct had the same problem. Who knows? Something in the air, probably. A good, stiff breeze can bring it on. They just went to the bathroom and took care of it quietly." Nightwing looked fully at the man next to him. "That's gotta be uncomfortable in that tight suit. How about you go take care of it?"
Batman couldn't help but look surprised at the idea. Abandon his post? Just to take care of this discomfort? What if something happened while he was . . . preoccupied? He shook his head and answered brusquely, "Out of the question."
Nightwing sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not a kid anymore. I know what you need to do, and I can handle this if anything goes down. If you're worried about privacy, just go to the car and take some tissue. You know how Alfred feels about, um . . . messes."
Batman stubbornly remained. Duty had to come first before personal situations like this.
"Look, Bruce. Face it. You're not in much condition to help in your present state. I mean, if it happens during a fight, well, who knows? Just do it and get it over with."
The offer was tempting. And Dick was right. The way his body was feeling right now was not conducive to the evening's potential activities. He gave in.
"Oh, alright," he grumbled. "But I refuse to leave the area."
"Fine." Nightwing looked around the rooftop. "There's a corner over there. It's kind of blocked off from view and within earshot. If there's trouble, I'll call for you, alright? Now for goodness' sake, just take care of it!" He turned back to his surveillance.
Batman stalked off to the indicated corner. When he was sure there was absolutely no chance that he would be seen, he yanked off the part of the suit which confined his most sensitive area. He took a deep breath when he felt the cool night air hit his exposed anatomy. As suggested, he took out some tissue and wiped some off the moisture which had already gathered at the tip off his now red and swollen member. While he rubbed, he relaxed for the first time that night. He admitted to himself that he should've done this at the start, either before he left the Cave, or if desperate enough, in the car on the side of the road.
Soon, he felt it coming. This time, he didn't bother to hold back, he couldn't hold back, and he didn't care anymore. It was coming, and he could feel the rest of his body tensing, preparing itself for that wonderful, euphoric release.
Out of sheer instinct, he threw his head back and closed his eyes and just let it happen. He sneezed.
"Bless you," Nightwing called out.
"Thanks," he mumbled back. God, he hated allergy season.