Archive of Our Own

Trying to squash a rumor is like trying to unring a bell.  – Shana Alexander

*~*~*
Iris

It started in Iris' room at the Tower, with her long, athletic legs wrapped around his waist. Damian wasn't exactly sure how it all happened – he was trying to argue with her (a near-impossible thing to do with a speedster with a five-second attention-span), and at some point she went off on a high-octane tangent about her love-life.

"AndsoIsaidwhoneedsyou,buster? He'saciviliananywayandtheynevergetit. Youknow? SoI'moverhimnow, andIwasthinking–"

"What are you going on about, you maddening woman? We're talking about the mission – the mud-creatures destroying half of Detroit – remember, earlier today?"

"Oh," she blinked, a rapid, camera-shutter flicker that turned her eyelashes into a strawberry-blonde blur. "But that was hours ago!" She sat up on the bed. "So, are we going to have sex or not?"

"What?"

"I just explained!"

Damian put his hands on his hips. "You did no such thing!"

"Didn't I?" Iris looked slightly perturbed by this, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she fast-forwarded through taking off her clothes.

"This is insane – I'm not going to come over there and service you!"

Damian would have been able to resist the lean, streamlined body, small, high breasts and pale skin covered in a veritable constellation of freckles – after all, deranged villainesses were always trying to lure him to the dark side with cleavage and promises of unholy union – but then Iris clickity-click blinked at him again and said: "What's wrong, afraid you can't keep up?"

So Damian snarled and pulled off his tunic as Iris bounced jubilantly on the bed, vibrating from anticipation (and oh, that was going to prove interesting...).

Yes, it was definitely Iris who started the rumours.

Afterwards she lay next to him with a thoughtful look on her face. "That was really good," she said, sounding almost puzzled.

"Well, what were you expecting?" Damian snapped. He was genetically perfect, bred for physical stamina and raised to exercise rigorous bodily discipline – the very idea that he could not be good in bed was preposterous.

"Well I didn't think you could do it three times in an hour. You know, I almost feel tired! Are you sure you're not meta-human?"

"Tt!" Damian rolled over and sat up, pushing condom wrappers aside with his foot before bending down to retrieve his clothes. "Just so you know, we're not doing that again. It was unprofessional, to say the least."

"Hm? Oh, ok. It takes too long to get you in the mood anyway. I was talking at you for like five minutes before you even got a clue." Iris was suddenly in a bathrobe and half-way out the bedroom door ahead of him. "Heyareyouhungry? BecauseI'mstarving–"

*~*~*

Maxine

Damian couldn't be sure whether or not Iris put her up to it, but for some reason Maxine blamed her sudden interest in him on a cat, of all things.

"Man, I was casting about for animals in range. There's a feral cat out on the grounds, so I absorbed her powers..."

Damian's eyebrows raised as he noticed the way Maxine was languidly rolling her hips as she lay on one of the long couches in the deserted recreation area.

"... She's in heat. It feels really weird. Now my blood's running hot, just pooling right– well, you can guess. It's like..." she wrinkled her nose, "an itch too deep inside to scratch."

"Oh, that's a charming analogy!" Damian scowled at her, but it had no perceptible chastening effect.

"You know, you're a little tightly-wound, even for a Robin. I think you could do with listening to your lizard brain."

"Look Baker, do you think you could possibly keep your hand above your waistband?"

"Noooo," she said, closing her eyes and gasping. "Oh, for God's sake, Damian – either get out or do something useful."

In keeping with the animalistic pretence(?), Maxine made a deep, resonant purring sound when he knelt between her parted thighs and drew his tongue over her clitoris. She did run hot – hotter and wetter than any girl he'd ever been with, and when he pushed inside her she wailed at an impressive volume and scraped bloody stripes up his back which Milagro later saw and so then–

*~*~*

Milagro

– Well, Milagro just flashed conspiratorial, gap-toothed grins at him for about two days before slapping him on the back and saying: "so I hear you're a freak."

"What?"

"A freak. You like the rough, kinky, hanging-from-light-fixtures sex." (Milagro had spent entirely too much time around Guy Gardiner, Damian decided.)

"Who told you that?"

"Take it easy, I'm not making any judgements – I'm in no position to judge. Oh, speaking of positions–"

Milagro used the power ring in ways probably not envisioned or endorsed by the Guardians of Oa. Damian found himself bound to the headboard with unbreakable, glowing green chains while she bounced on his lap, biting his bottom lip and muttering fervent profanities in Spanish – a language which Damian all-too-well understood.

*~*~*

Steph

The first Damian heard of his 'reputation' was when Steph swung down on a line and landed on his rooftop while he was on a stake-out.

"Hey demon-spawn."

"Hello Fatgirl."

"So, I hear you're the Teen Titans 'bike' now."

"What?"

"Bike, as in 'everyone's had a ride'."

"I'm familiar with that disgusting expression! Who told you this?"

"Oh, it's common knowledge. Can't say I'm surprised, what with your mentor being Mr. 'Lock up your Red-Heads' McPrettyboy over there, so I'll just say 'have fun' and 'remember to wear a raincoat'."

"I realise you're having fun taunting me, but don't you have some crimes to incompetently foil?"

"You mean like that one?"

"Wh–" Damian cursed as Steph shot her grapple a second before he could get to his. Down in the alley, the gun-runners were moving, transporting crates from the warehouse into the back of their freight truck.

After the take-down, both vigilantes withdrew and let the GCPD swarm in to pick up the restrained or unconscious criminals.

"It's getting late," Steph observed as she jumped the gap between two rooftops. "You want to go grab something to eat before heading home?"

"I can't tonight," Damian said. "I have to get back to the Titans."

"Spreading yourself a little thin there, kiddo?"

"I can handle it."

"You taking your prescribed R&R's?"

"Tt, what are you, my big sister? Yes. I'm off on Sunday, as a matter of fact."

"Hey, me too – If O doesn't change it. You should come round to mine and we'll watch Kung Fu movies, and you can correct the subtitles. I know how you love to do that."

"Maybe."

Steph caught his arm and made him stop in his tracks. "What are you, too cool for me now?"

"No," Damian turned his head and blinked at her behind his mask. "I'm... things have been strange."

"Hey... it's me, R."

Damian nodded, finding that he couldn't meet her gaze. "I know."

*~*~*

Colin

Things were not going well at Titan's Tower. Damian had long been reconciled to the hostility of his team – he had even begun to relish the occasional challenges to his authority, since it had given him the opportunity to scowl and admonish others into compliance. Now the girls kept smiling at him, and it was creeping him out.

Earlier in the day he had seen Milagro talking to Ramsey, making use of some deeply suspicious hand-gestures. Ramsey had glanced over at Damian, his mouth in an 'o' shape.

"Really?" he had heard Ramsey say, "eight inches? Because he always acts like he's compensating for some–"

"Are you talking about me?" Damian snapped.

"What makes you think we are?" Ramsey retorted, folding his arms over his chest.

"Because you said–"

Ramsey looked up at him expectantly and Damian realised he was actually waiting for confirmation of the insidious gossip! With a huff of frustration, Damian turned away and stalked off to his hidi–thinking place.

"Hey Damian," Colin said, climbing out the window to sit down next to him on a section of the wide outer ledge. "I heard a rumour–"

"Don't even start with me, I'm not in the mood."

"But Damian," the red-haired boy protested, hurt reflecting in his guileless blue eyes, "you're my best friend. If people are saying mean, untrue things about you, then I want to help set the record straight."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why not? I mean, they are lies, aren't they? You didn't... um, you know... with half the team, did you?"

"What if I did?"

"Oh!" Colin said, his pale eyebrows shooting upwards. Then, more softly: "Oh."

"Yes. So, run off and light candles or clack beads together or whatever it is you do for those you consider to be hell-bound degenerates."

"I don't think you're... I mean, it's just sex. You didn't hurt anyone, did you?"

"No, of course not! None of it was even my idea. West, Baker and Reyes seem to have got it into their heads that I'm their plaything."

"That's not very nice."

"No," Damian agreed. "It isn't."

Colin wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. "So... was it good? Did it feel good?"

"What?"

"I mean, at the time. Because I've never... you know."

"Well, that's hardly the revelation of the century."

"But I want to know about it, and I don't really know anyone who's experienced, apart from you."

"Why is it even relevant – aren't you training to be a monk or something?"

"Priest, I was going to be a priest. But I'm not, anymore. I decided. I mean... the Church does good things, but there's a lot of stuff I don't agree with. And I can't... I don't think I'm the kind of person they'd want, anyway."

"Because of your powers?"

Colin shrugged. "Other things, too. And I guess I've been thinking a lot about the celibacy thing – I just don't think it's for me. I'd like to have sex. To experience that with someone, you know – special."

Damian just about managed to hold back a derisive snort at this sentiment, then he noticed that Colin was staring at him... oddly – in some way he couldn't quite interpret.

"I'm... going to go and train." he said, finding that the conversation had taken a turn for the weird.

*~*~*

Ramsey

Damian's heightened senses drew him from sleep when his bedroom door opened a fraction and a shadow slipped through. Damian lay still in the dark, tracking the figure's movement. He could hear male breathing. When the figure neared the bed, he flung out an arm, grabbed the man and tackled him down onto the mattress.

"Ramsey Spencer!" he shouted, twisting the man's arm behind his back and kneeling across pyjama-clad thighs to pin him. "I know it's you, you sneaky little pervert."

"Ow!" came Colin's voice. "Hey, I'm not Ramsey. And I'm not a pervert."

The door banged open, letting in a flood of light from the hall. Ramsey stood with his hair all sticking up, wearing a pair of jockey shorts that didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Who called my name? Oh my God, are you two having sex?"

"No we are not!" Damian released Colin and rolled away from him, sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

Ramsey scratched his head and squinted. "Wait, are you both gay now? Why does nobody tell me anything? I'm hurt – we're supposed to be a community, you know."

"Dial down your excited shrieking, Spencer. We're not gay."

"I might be," Colin said. "Um, kind of. I think."

Damian frowned at him. "What do you mean, you 'think'?"

Colin blushed a deeper shade of crimson. "It's mainly... when I'm around you, Damian."

"So you decided you'd just sneak in here and jump me in my sleep?"

"I wasn't going to – I was going to wake you up. I... I tried to tell you earlier, but it didn't really work." Colin hung his head in shame and anguish. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, he looks so sad," Ramsey observed sympathetically. "At least hug him or something, Damian. This is a big moment for him."

"I will not."

"Do it! Do it or I'm calling my mother the DA to tell her that you called me a 'sneaky little pervert'." Ramsey crossed his arms over his chest. "I heard it – Colin's a witness – and it's totally a homophobic hate crime. We'll prosecute you to the full extent of the law."

"Tt! Fine, you two are utterly ridiculous," Damian gingerly put an arm around Colin and patted his shoulder. Colin took this as encouragement to grab Damian in a bear-hug.

"Are you still my friend, Damian?" The red-head asked, raising his faint eyebrows hopefully. "You're not mad, are you?"

"No... I'm not mad. Just... confused. Deeply confused."

"I'm confused too," Colin whispered.

"Damian, I think you should kiss him," Ramsey said, tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully. "For... science."

Damian turned his head to glare at the boy across the room. "Science?"

"Personal development?"

"I don't think–mmf!–"

Colin was surprisingly strong and tenacious – even in his unenhanced form. With Damian's arms pinned to his sides and Colin having the advantage of surprise, Damian found his back hitting the mattress before he even thought to react – and by then it was too late to do anything non-lethal.

"No no no no, Colin – less tongue," Ramsey advised, titling his head critically.

*~*~*

Dick

Damian sat on an examination table in the cave's medical bay, frowning and tapping his foot in impatience while Dick drew a blood sample.

"What is this for?"

"Just... just, you know, general health check."

Damian jumped down and followed Dick as he walked towards the main computer console. "General health check? Grayson, you are a terrible liar. Tell me what's going on."

"Well, your dad's in South America so I thought I'd make sure..." Dick sighed with the effort of trying to explain himself delicately. "Look... we have a dangerous line of work. Sometimes there are after-effects."

"After-effects?"

"Have you taken down any evil scientists or, um, botanists recently?"

"Oh dear God – you actually think I've been dosed with sex pollen?"

"Stranger things have happened. And you have been acting... weird lately."

"It isn't my fault that my team-members have a sudden fascination with me. And you're a fine one to talk, Grayson. What about that alien princess of yours? Raven? Oracle? Red Arrow?"

Dick almost dropped the sample fitting it into the highly advanced mass spectrometer. "Hey, what's Jason been telling you?"

"It's common knowledge, Grayson. You're not as discreet as you think you are."

Dick sat down and tapped at the keyboard, bringing up the chemical composition of the sample. "I guess it would be hypocritical of me to tell you not to make the same mistakes I did."

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. "It would."

Dick swiveled in his chair. "Well, for the record, your blood-work seems fine. I guess whatever is going on, it's all you. Unless of course, you want me to give Jason Blood a call – we could investigate the possibility of magic or curses–"

Damian consulted the GPS on his wrist and cut Dick off: "if you're quite finished being totally insane, Red Hood needs me for a plain-clothes operation."

*~*~*

Jason

"Heeeeey, baby brother!" Jason got off his bar stool to clap Damian on the back. "Hey, hey Sherry," he called to the bartender, "check out my little bro. Isn't he handsome?"

Sherry popped her bubblegum and leaned on the bar, twirling the end of her peroxide ponytail around her finger. "A real lady-killer I bet."

"Sure is."

"We're not actually related," Damian said. "He's sentimentalizing."

"You got I.D., kid?" Sherry asked. "I don't want the cops to shut me down again."

"Yes, several."

"Eh, good enough."

Damian turned to look at Jason, who was draining a beer mug. "So what's the emergency, Todd?"

"Oh, the... uh, 'emergency' is my lack of a ride home."

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly." Jason jumped off his stool and slung his arm around Damian's shoulders, steering him towards the door. "Also, I haven't seen my favourite sibling in soooo long. Yes, I had to make do with second, sometimes third-hand information about what you've been up to. Have to say, it sounds exciting."

"Oh, shut-up!"

"Ha ha, seriously though baby bird – glad to see someone's keeping the family reputation alive. Timmy was no good at that at all – seriously, I think that kid wears a chastity belt instead of a jock."

Damian led him down the street to where he had parked the bike. Jason leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest, gazing up at the younger man with a shrewd, evaluating look on his face.

"So, you're all grown up, bro. What age are you now, twenty-two?"

"Eighteen."

Jason let out a low, appreciative whistle, tousling his own auburn hair. "Damn, what do they feed you Wayne motherfuckers?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "You're not going to hit on me now, are you? Because if you are, I might just let Grayson have me checked over for dark magicks and infernal curses."

"Oh, I'd like to, kid. I really, really would. From what I hear, it's quite a ride."

"I wish people would stop referring to me while using disgusting metaphors like that."

Jason waved a hand dismissively. "As that one dude said, 'the only thing worse than being talked about, yadda yadda...' You know, most guys would kill to have your reputation."

"I suppose so," Damian conceded, sliding his leg over the motorcycle and settling onto the seat. "Now, hop on and try not to fall off if it gets too fast."

"Heh – that's what she said," Jason quipped as he climbed on behind.

As Damian reached forward for the ignition he felt the pressure of a hand splayed on the small of his back. The contact moved slowly downwards until Jason was actually squeezing Damian's ass through the denim of his jeans. Damian scowled over his shoulder, but Jason just laughed, breath tickling against his ear.

Eventually, Jason gave a reluctant sigh and pulled his hand away. "Nah... your dad would kill me."

*~*~*

Steph (again)

In the early hours of Sunday morning, Damian rang Stephanie's doorbell. She answered the door in a terrycloth robe, rubbing at her hair with a towel. She grinned when she saw the extra-large pizza box in his hands.

"Peace offering, huh? Alright, I guess you can come in."

They sat on opposite ends of the couch and watched the promised poorly-subtitled martial arts movie, while Steph talked over the top of it between bites of pizza. He told her about his latest encounter with Jason and she laughed and licked a spot of marinara sauce from the corner of her mouth.

Damian reflected that given that he had spent his life jetting between exotic locations – having the best of everything – it was strange that Steph's apartment (which was small and filled with flat-pack furniture) should seem like a refuge. It was so ordinary... so civilian. Even Steph herself was incredibly ordinary – a healthy, all-american girl with cornflower blue eyes and thick blonde hair, who talked too much. There was no rational reason that he should feel comforted by her presence or at home on her couch.

When the movie was over she gave him some blankets and a pillow and went off, yawning expansively, to her own room. Damian immediately fell into a heavy, exhausted sleep but he woke again after just a couple of hours. Dawn was creeping through the slats of the venetian blinds and a couch-spring was digging into the small of his back. He got up and stretched, noting how pale and ethereal everything looked at that hour of the morning – five AM, when even monsters and criminals were asleep.

Steph's bedroom door was open, so Damian walked over and leaned on the jamb. Her bed was full of ridiculous ethnic throw-cushions and she had tacked up some heavy fabric around the window frame to block out most of the light. Steph herself was sprawled out on her front with a comforter draped over her lower half. She was wearing an oversize t-shirt and her hair was in a loose plait from which fine tendrils escaped and clung to her forehead and cheek. He watched her for a moment, thinking in an abstract, unfocused way that it looked like something he wanted.

Steph rolled over onto her back and rubbed at her eyes, inhaling deeply as she was roused from sleep by his presence – a sign that her training had at least instilled a healthy amount of alertness and paranoia. She smiled at him and shifted, pulling back the covers and patting the empty space next to her. "Hey, don't just stand there in the doorway looking like a moody underwear model."

Damian climbed into the bed and settled on his back. "Is this... alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Of course it's alright. It's you and me, isn't it?"

Damian thought about that – 'you and me' – because what did they have in common? Apart from the fact that they were both outsiders, who had fought to gain trust and acceptance from hostile colleagues – people who wanted nothing more than to see them fail. And they each had one supervillain parent. And good reason to resent Tim Drake. And – well, ok – there were similarities.

Steph closed her eyes and gave a tired sigh. She turned away from him, onto her left side, then reached back and tugged at his hand, pulling his arm across her waist. He shifted to press his chest to her back, and she made a sleepy, contented sound, tangling one of her legs with his.

Damian frowned again, listening to her breathing as it evened out. Although this was an unfamiliar situation, Damian found himself relaxing too, lulled by the comfort of the bed and the warmth of Steph's body. Soon he too was asleep.

He woke some hours later when Steph rolled over, settling her head into the space between his shoulder and neck. He kept his arm across her waist, moving his hand to gently run his fingertips up and down her back.

In response she brought her own hand up to touch his jawline, tracing it with her thumb, which rasped against his stubble. Damian gazed down at her faintly parted lips; comfortable and drowsy, he moved to kiss her without debating it further. It was effortlessly good, just moving his mouth against hers and catching flickers of her tongue.

"Is this what you want?" she broke the kiss to murmur, stroking his hair.

"Yes... yes of course."

"I wasn't sure." Steph leaned on her elbow and watched him through half-closed eyes. "At the new year's party I kind of thought you were flirting with me, then for a while I thought I might be crazy."

Damian looked away. "I was... 'flirting' as you put it. I just wasn't certain how to proceed."

"Here I thought you were a stud."

"I thought perhaps... the age difference might matter to you. That you saw me as a younger brother."

"Is it creepy that I don't?"

"Hm, maybe." He kissed her and they rolled over together so he ended up lying between her thighs. He pressed closer, shuddering, then turned slightly so he was resting on one hip, eyes widening as he glanced downwards. "Ah, you're not wearing any underwear."

She laughed and snapped the elastic waistband against his taut abdominal muscles. "But you are. We should do something to even the odds." She reached down to trail the backs of her fingers up the underside of his dick, then she grasped it and squeezed.

He gasped and cursed softly. It was, bizarrely, one of the most erotic experiences of his life – just seeing his cloth-covered penis twitching in Steph's hand.

"Mm, you are a big boy. I mean, I don't have a size kink or anything, but..." she squeezed him again, "feels good."

He hissed in a breath. "Bigger than Drake?"

She laughed again. "Seriously, if this is a one-upmanship thing between you two, I'll be really pissed."

"No," he stroked her thighs. "It's definitely not about him." He slipped his hands beneath her t-shirt and cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples in a circular motion with this thumbs. Her sharp eye-teeth found his neck, nipping, before she sucked a kiss on his collarbone.

Damian slid down the bed and pressed his cheek to the hollow of her stomach, glancing up at her as she shifted beneath him.

"I've been told that I'm very good at oral sex," he said. "Do you mind?"

She tilted her head back and he heard the sound of her laughter. "Knock yourself out, D."

Steph grasped the sheets between her fingers, her toes curling when Damian's breath ghosted over her clitoris. His tongue slipped over her in long, slow strokes and he made deep sounds of pleasure as he did it, knowing that the vibrations would enhance every sensation. He brought her to orgasm twice in the space of a few minutes, the second time pushing into her with his long middle fingers as he lapped at her.

She cried out weakly in the stillness of the room, the sound of her intense climaxes almost like a sob. Afterwards he kissed her inner thighs and she carded her fingers through the damp, short strands of hair at the back of his neck.

"Damian," Steph said as he moved up the bed to lie next to her again. "That was..." she gave up on words altogether and ended up just lazily making a twirling gesture with her hand.

"Oh, so that's all I have to do to get you to stop talking?"

"Your snark has no power over me, brat wonder. Too relaxed." Steph stretched, turning towards him and wiggling her toes as she turned her face up for a kiss. "Mmm," she sucked on his bottom lip and nipped with her teeth before letting it go, fingers swirling in the small of his back and slipping beneath the waistband of the briefs he still wore. "Take these off and I'll return the favour."

Damian obligingly lifted his hips and slipped out of his underwear, kicking the garment out of the bed. He sat up and leaned on his elbows, one knee raised and a foot on the mattress.

Steph brushed her hair over her shoulder and leaned down to draw her tongue up the length of the shaft. She took the tip on her mouth and sucked, humming at the taste of him. Closing her hand around the thicker base, she stroked him and relaxed her throat to take him in deeper. Damian made soft, urgent sounds, burying his fingers in her hair and rubbing circles with the calloused pads of his fingers.

"Ah– you should..." his fingers clenched on her scalp and released. "Stop, I can't..."

Steph pulled back and sucked the glans lingeringly, slurping in enjoyment as she pulled off. "Hey, you know who I hear is really good at this?" she said, wiping her mouth and looking up at him. "Jason."

Damian groaned and closed his eyes. "Is everyone in the superhero community a complete degenerate?"

"Only the fun people," Steph moved to sit next to him, reaching down to stroke him in a slow rhythm.

He caught the corner of her mouth in a kiss. "Like you?"

"Me? No, I'm not a degenerate. I live a very boring life, you know."

"Sure."

"I mean it's been months... over a year, in fact, since I've... you know... been with someone."

Damian pulled her hand away and rolled over to lie partially on top of her, one of his legs between hers. "I find that hard to believe... that you would be lacking in lovers."

She smiled ruefully and looked away as he brushed her cheek with the side of his finger. "It's the lifestyle, I guess. Most crime-fighters have too many issues, civilians are a security risk."

He nodded in understanding and kissed her again before moving off her and sitting back on his knees.

"Condoms are in the drawer," she said. As Damian reached for the bedside table, she added, "um, you might wanna check the expiry dates."

Damian raised his eyebrow as he scrutinized the back of a foil wrapper before opening it. Within his peripheral vision he could see Steph pulling the t-shirt off over her head, and he found that his hands were uncharacteristically unsteady as he rolled the condom on. His eyebrows drew together and he let out a steady breath, calming himself, focussing. "I'm not usually like this," he said, feeling perplexed by the apparent alteration. "It's... I don't know – different."

Steph reached over and laced her fingers with his where his open hand rested on his thigh. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"But Stephanie, I want to please you."

"Don't worry about that. Just being here with me – kissing, fooling around – that's pleasing me." She pulled up the blankets and slid underneath. "I'm also very pleased that you just called me by my first name instead of 'Brown' or 'Fatgirl'."

"Tt," Damian said as he climbed under the covers. "It's a joke! Your body mass index is within perfectly acceptable parameters."

"Thanks, D. That's literally the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Steph rolled onto her back, parting her legs in invitation for him to get between them as Damian raised himself over her, hands either side of her shoulders. He leaned down to kiss her, deep and wet this time. Steph sucked on his tongue and stroked firmly down his back, feeling the faint tremor in every muscle.

"Hey," she said, pulling back enough so he could see her eyes glittering in the dimness of the room. "It's you and me."

He nodded, almost curtly, and lowered his hips, easing down onto his elbows to rest some of his body weight on her. When the head of his penis twitched involuntarily against her folds, Steph canted her hips up to get him to rub against her clitoris. She hissed at what must have been a maddening sensation and cupped the back of his neck with one hand, smacking his ass sharply with the other. "Alright, now you're just plain teasing me."

Damian smiled against her mouth. With a swiftness that seemed to surprise her, he hooked an arm under her knee and pulled it up against his waist, slipping into her halfway. She gasped and clenched around him; Damian grunted and angled himself to penetrate her more deeply. She wrapped the leg he wasn't holding around his waist, digging her heel into his spine as she kissed his neck, the shell of his ear. "Yes, God you feel good."

Damian kissed her and dragged his fingers down the centre of her chest as he started to move against her. "Ah, Stephanie..." his voice was a low throb.

The sun was fully risen outside, yet the room remained dark and cocoon-like, making it seem as if they were hidden, isolated from the rest of the world. Damian took her on her back and then rolled them onto their sides, his hips moving fluidly, the muscles of his back flexing. Towards the end Steph had arranged him so he was leaning against the headboard while she sat astride him, leaning back at an angle like a dancer being dipped while clutching one of his shoulders. One of his hands was on her back, steadying her, the other on her lower abdomen, his thumb dipping into her slit, rubbing her clitoris. They moved against each other in a rhythm that was almost languorous, every rock of their bodies driving the intensity of the sensations higher. It felt like there was something spiraling in the pit of his abdomen, drawing ever tighter.

Damian kissed her breasts and murmured in Arabic – afterwards he would wonder if he did it to preserve his emotional modesty, or because he was so carried away that his awareness of what language he was speaking in simply slipped.

"Damian, Damian," she babbled, apparently pretty far gone herself. "Waited so long, fuck–"

"Yes, yes..."

She cried out in orgasm, her muscles fluttering around him. Then things became a jumble of feeling and image – her face blurred and came back into focus; he could hear his own hoarse shout and feel his body jerking and spasming. His breathing was harsh to his own ears as he kissed the side of her face and held her tightly.

In the drowsy aftermath, Steph lay with her head on his shoulder and they both dozed for a little while – a lazy Sunday, he supposed it would be called – as if they were civilians.

Eventually he sighed and asked her: "what time is it?"

"Hmm," Steph nuzzled his chest. "Don't care."

"I... I have to go. I promised I'd go to the manor this evening. My father is due back."

"Ok," she said, rolling away. "Do what you have to."

The abruptness in her manner affronted him, and so a hardness came back into his eyes as he turned away, rising from the bed and heading for the shower.

When he emerged, he toweled off and stepped back into the bedroom to pull on his underwear. Then he went through into the combined kitchen-living area to get the rest of his clothes. Steph was at the counter in her robe, pouring herself coffee.

"Do you want a cup?" she asked, glancing over as he dressed himself quickly.

"No. I have got get going."

Perhaps Steph noticed that there was something a little sulky in his tone. She walked over to where he stood and reached up to smooth the collar of his polo shirt, looking into his face. "I was thinking," she said, "that if you want all those Titans kids to leave you alone, you can always tell them you have a girlfriend." She looked away, putting on a show of nonchalance. "You can even use my name if you want, I don't mind."

"I could," Damian agreed, scrutinizing her expression as he spoke. "I might have to... pay visits here. To maintain the charade."

A grin was tugging at the corner of her mouth as she met his gaze again. "Oh, naturally. Once or twice a week, I'd guess."

Damian smiled again, and it was a little bit sly – conspiratorial. He kissed her goodbye and as he turned towards the door she added: "I'd still have to brag about your talents though. We can't have your reputation slipping."

"No..." he said. "I suppose not."