"That's good," Bruce crooned, his voice lower than usual, close to the rumble of Batman's growl but gentle at the same time. Practically preening over Tim like a proud father might. Like Tim's own father surely never did, because Bruce had seen how distant the boy's parents were. He knew how starved Tim was for this, and he knew that he could take full advantage.

His free hand fell to Tim's shoulder, giving him a deep squeeze there, working the overstressed muscle and kneading into it with his thumb enough to feel the tendons shift beneath his touch. That thumb dug in, going down Tim's spine, his side, to the ever so gentle widening at his hips.

"Up on your hands and knees," he said, removing his finger from Tim's mouth to help get him into position.