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The day’s events — the countless meetings at Wayne Enterprises and the impromptu JL mission to save the world for the one hundredth time that month — exhausted Bruce. Short power naps weren't efficient enough to build up his depleting energy reserves, and he still had to go through his nightly patrol. He suited up so slowly that everyone from the family already left by the time he was ready, all alone in the Cave. He walked towards the Batmobile when an unexpected feeling of wrongness stopped him dead in his tracks.
His instincts were always right, trained by years spent fighting crime and other, magical or extraterrestrial, threats. He could tell something was happening. Something new, something dangerous.
He was proven right when seconds later, in a flash of blinding light, a new figure appeared in the Cave. Another Batman stood in a place where a moment ago there was empty air. The man's head swiveled side to side, taking in his surroundings as if he was misplaced by whatever teleportation magic brought him here.
Bruce tensed up, preparing himself for potential danger. For now, cautious and still, he continued observing the newcomer.
Then the man turned in Bruce's direction and stilled, standing with his feet apart in a posture just as intense and looming as Bruce’s. The other man’s Batsuit looked much the same as Bruce’s, apart from the red details instead of yellow, but at that angle Bruce caught the most glaring, key, difference.
The guns.
Threat, Bruce realized immediately. Even if that man was an alternate Batman, he was not the same as him, he was a Threat.
Bruce lunged to apprehend the newcomer. The Red Batman didn’t make it in time to reach his gun before Bruce threw the first powerful punch to his face. Bruce followed with a kick to the man’s hand to divert him from his weapons. Red staggered back as Bruce hit him again and again, delivering a rapid-fire flurry of blows, precise strikes that left no room to breathe. He successfully pushed his opponent back and on the defensive.
Bruce's attacks were fast and agile. It became clear that the Other Batman had slower reflexes. The visible part of his currently bloody face showed age. His advantage lay in a bigger, broader body that was built purely for strength and could handle more damage. When he collected himself enough, he gave back as good as he got.
Bruce lost his breath when the first punch connected with his stomach. Even the Batsuit’s protection didn’t fully absorb the impact. Red Batman turned out to be the brawling type and he just gained the advantage in the fight. He attacked by throwing his entire considerable body weight at Bruce, pushing him back and causing Bruce to stumble. Bruce barely managed to keep his balance.
Bruce fought bigger, stronger men in the past and won. He would win again, even if it was against some dangerous, malevolent version of himself from another world.
They tussled wildly, moving through the empty area of the cave, feet thudding loudly on the floor. They landed blows on each other, leaving bloody smears on their gloves and visible parts of their skin.
Both of them were equally as skilled and focused on the win. The lead kept switching.
Red Batman roared and pressed his entire body forward, grabbing his arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce tried to derail him from this attempt by repeatedly punching his fists on the sides of the other man’s cowl, but he finally managed to disturb Bruce’s footwork and toppled him over.
They fell and Red Batman bodily pressed Bruce to the cave floor.
"How did I get here?" he demanded in an angry growl. “What happened to the cave?”
"How would I know?" Bruce growled back. "It's something in your world that brought you here and you'd better return back there soon."
The other Batman flinched back. His hold loosened and Bruce took advantage of that, pushing forward with his body, reversing their positions and putting pressure on the other’s throat.
Red brutally displaced the hold and lifted his head so fast that the two cowls crashed together, causing a loud impact. Bruce toppled back, groaning in pain. His head spun for a moment, his vision darkened as noise rang out in his ears.
Bruce could barely react when Red manipulated his body, roughly pressing Bruce to the ground chest-first. A one-handed grasp was enough to immobilize both of Bruce's wrists behind his back. His uncovered cheek made contact with the cold cave floor when Red pushed his head down.
“You will regret attacking me, son,” Red growled.
With Red’s body pressed solidly so close to weigh him down, the hardness between the other man’s legs became immedietely noticeable. Bruce stilled in surprise. Red Batman was aroused by their fight. Brawling with Bruce made him react like this. That could easily work in Bruce's favor, and be used as a distraction.
"I'd hate to ruin the atmosphere," Bruce started speaking in the higher, lighter tone of voice he used while flirting in public as Bruce Wayne. "But is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
Red gasped in indignation.
Hook, line and sinker.
Bruce twisted to the side, hitting outwards with an elbow, knocking Red back with their combined weight. The hold on Bruce's wrist loosened enough for him to yank his hands free. Bruce managed to turn on his back but before he attacked, Red fully laid down on him and had him pressed to the ground again. Dammit!
"You really like having me underneath you, huh?" Bruce drawled in a dry, unimpressed manner. He bent his legs, found a solid purchase for his feet and thrusted his hips upward, grinding into Red's hard-on.
Red groaned, a low, dangerous sound. The body on top of Bruce tensed up. Red's jaw clenched in anger.
"You're a brat." Red's voice sounded like gravel, his breaths came short and fast. "I should put you in your place, kid."
"Why don't you try?"
Bruce didn't know why he was escalating the conflict in this direction. Maybe because each second he spent distracting the other Batman meant that he wasn't causing havoc and trouble for anyone else in Gotham. Maybe because Bruce had been too tense lately and deep down he selfishly wanted to get something out of this situation too.
Red was panting on top of him and then he surged down. Red Batman's mouth crushed against his. The kiss was brutal and demanding, aggressive, not giving Bruce the chance to reciprocate or push him away. Red's lips were already bloody, but a sharp bite to Bruce's lip added a sharp sensation to his own too, threatening him with more hurt.
Blood. The color of red. Like the bat symbol on the other man's chest.
Bruce's freed hands went around the bigger man's torso and embraced him tightly, bringing him close. Their lips were meeting harshly against each other, painful and raw, desperate and wanting.
Their kisses gradually slowed. They panted against each other's mouths, lips brushing constantly, but both men refocused their attention on other matters instead of continuing kissing.
Red's hands started looking frantically for the seams in Bruce's suit. Their gear was similar enough that they could undress each other easily.
Bruce unlatched the buckles connected to Red's gun holsters and opened his pants, caressing the big, hard, hot cock hidden inside black boxer briefs. In response to the touch Red grunted through clenched teeth.
At the same time Red pulled Bruce's undersuit and underwear down. Bruce lifted his hips up to help get the material below his ass. His armored thigh plates were left in place so the layers stuck right above them. Bruce gasped at the feel of the freezing cold cave floor coming into contact with his bare skin when he laid back down. He scrambled to get his hands on his cape and move it underneath himself to use as a more comfortable layer of material beneath him.
Red didn't stop his rushed, hungry movements. He pulled back, tugged his glove off and threw it away without regard for where it landed. He brought his big fingers to Bruce's mouth and demanded, "Suck."
Bruce obeyed. He let the three fingers slip without regard into his mouth. He latched his lips around them and sucked loudly, twirling his tongue between the other man’s fingers and drawing shapes with it.
"Fuck!" Red's voice was shaky and growly. His hips thrusted into Bruce's hand and Bruce kept stroking the man’s cock, up and down through his boxers, teasing the balls and the base, then moving back up that wondrously hard length, squeezing the moist cockhead teasingly. Red was thrusting erratically, bucking into his grip, gasping loudly and not holding anything back.
The movements of his fingers in Bruce's mouth were attempting to replicate the rhythm, but he kept losing it. Bruce was choking from the uncomfortable, rough, deep penetration, from the fingertips impacting repeatedly against the back of his throat. Saliva was dripping down Bruce's chin, but he could feel his own cock getting harder and more painful with each suck. Bruce's body trembled, tense like a bowstring, ready to explode.
Bruce grabbed Red's bare wrist and forcibly removed his fingers from his mouth. Red Batman growled in warning.
"I've got something better than this," Bruce explained. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a package of lube, pleased when he registered surprise on the visible part of Red's face.
"You do this often, huh, son?"
"It's been a while," Bruce answered while he busied himself with taking his glove off and tearing the packet, coating his fingers generously in the wet substance. With his other hand he pulled down Red's boxers and stroked him once, twice, thrice, making that cock lubricated and spreading the precum already present there. Red moaned at his brief touch.
Bruce hummed in approval, pleased with the sight of the other Batman unraveling because of him. With his clean hand Bruce pushed Red back and surprisingly Red listened to the suggestion.
Bruce spread his legs invitingly and made himself comfortable on top of his cape laying on the floor. His undersuit pulled down to his thighs made it difficult for him to open his legs far. He switched tactics and lifted his legs, bringing his thighs close to his chest and using his gloved hand to keep them there, up in the air. His hole was exposed, presented to Red without any shame.
Red's moan sounded broken and shocked. Precum dribbled down the length of his thick, long cock. Bruce was hungry for it inside him.
"Are you going to watch, old man?" Bruce purred, speaking like a flirting Brucie again. It was never a genuine voice to him before, but it almost sounded real now.
Bruce brought his fingers to his hole and pressed two inside right away. The stretch felt so good. Bruce fucked the digits into himself, his hole loosening and adjusting with each press. He couldn't hold back the noises leaving his open mouth, "Ah!"
Fuck, this felt so good.
Red's hands, one gloved, one bare and wet with saliva, suddenly fell on his legs and circled Bruce's thighs. Red pressed further in and Bruce stifled a shout when Red manipulated his limbs enough so Bruce's hips were lifted into the air, away from the ground. Red was holding him mid-air, watching and panting as Bruce kept finger-fucking his hole. Bruce pressed the third finger inside. Red wasn't tiring, his hold was steady and strong. Precum from his cock landed on Bruce's asscheek and Bruce positively whined at that. He pulled his fingers out fast, leaving behind his hole clenching in emptiness.
"Fuck me, old man," Bruce begged.
"I'm going to fuck this attitude out of you, son," Red announced and the head of that thick cock pressed against Bruce's asshole. Red stilled, adjusting the grip he had on Bruce's thighs. Bruce moved away his hands and clutched at the cape spread above his head.
Red breathed out and thrusted his cock inside in one fell swoop.
"Fuck! Yes!!!" Bruce wailed.
Red fucked as hard as he fought.
He started moving right away. Each deliberate, deep movement punched out a noise from Bruce that he couldn’t hold back. Gasping loudly for breath, moaning with abandon, screaming when his prostate was stimulated particularly hard.
When Bruce tried to quiet down his sounds, he bit his lip and the sight of blood seemed to have excited Red Batman more. He leaned down for a kiss, desperate and possessive, squeezing bruises into Bruce’s thighs and bending him practically in half, putting the whole length of his cock in and almost entirely out.
Finally, his rhythm changed. His thrusts started turning shorter but faster. Bruce was whining non-stop, his body shaking from pleasure. He tried to move his hips back against the body hitting hard against him, but his legs were held too securely. He couldn't move. He was helpless, forced to take the pleasure given to him.
Bruce came first, with a scream and a tight clench of his hole around a hard cock. Red thrusted in a few more times and came with a groan, spilling deep inside Bruce. Bruce's cock twitched in interest. When Red pulled out, causing Bruce to cry out again, cum dribbled out of his used, open hole. His position angled in the air made the dripping lines slide down to his balls. Bruce's cock was still hard, his breathing rapid fast.
Red's grip on his thighs loosened slightly and the man made a curious, thoughtful sound. He let Bruce's hips down so they could rest on the ground. Bruce sighed in relief. The position was finally taking away the strain on his back. He wiggled his legs but instead of letting him go, Red switched and readjusted his hold. One arm curled around Bruce's thighs, keeping them pressed together, calves thrown over the other man's shoulder. A few gloved fingers plunged into his hole without warning.
"Oh, fuck!" Bruce screamed.
The movement of the fingers made more and more cum slip out from Bruce's insides.
The oversensitivity was killing him but it felt so, so good. Red kept finger-fucking him through it, Bruce kept moaning, panting heavily, his entire body shaking.
He came again, panting, a smaller amount of cum dripping out of him and Red let go. He pulled back slightly and Bruce's limbs fell to the floor without his control. His muscles were trembling, he didn't feel like moving a finger. He looked down at himself.
Bruce's Batsuit was covered in cum. Red in comparison looked immaculate if not for the flushed, bare cock that he meticulously put back in his underwear, and then he pulled up his pants. He left the red belts hanging loosely.
Oh, but a glove of Red's was covered in white and he bit around the tip of one clean finger, sliding it off his hand. He dropped it to the floor and grunted at it in displeasure. Then he refocused his attention on Bruce.
"You alright, kid?" Red asked, calmer now. Bruce blinked in surprise, the movement unseen behind the lenses of his cowl. The question was unexpected, Red's consideration - suspicious in its suddenness, but welcome in its kindness.
"Hnn." That was the unclear answer that Bruce offered. "We still need to talk, Batman."
"You are Batman as well," Red pointed out, a note of curiosity in his voice. "But you are different from me."
The sky was blue and water was wet, yes. Bruce's jaw clenched in annoyance.
"Obviously," Bruce remarked, rolling his eyes.
Bruce pushed himself up from the floor. Not only was his Batsuit dirtied, now cum was definitely dripping from his hole and also landing on the cape as well. Bruce wanted to sigh from exasperation. The cleanup after this was going to be even worse than after rooftop trysts with Selina.
Bruce pulled up his underwear and pants, ignoring the wetness that he could now feel slipping out of him and wetting the material. He put on his missing glove.
Bruce made himself as comfortable as he could. (Not all that much. His ass was aching and wet and he felt fresh bruises growing in places where Red's punches hit him the hardest.) Red was kneeling in front of him, watchful and attentive. They stayed sitting on the floor, despite how odd that location was.
"Now," Bruce started, the deep Batman growl back in his voice. Red tilted his head in interest at the sound of that change. "You are going to explain to me how you got here."
Red kept still for a few moments, until he spoke, his thoughts gathered and collected, his response ready.
"I was in the cave. My cave. Same place as here, but it looks different. You have… much more technology here."
Red looked around at the computers and devices, at the suits encased in glass cabinets, even at the huge coin, the dinosaur figure and the giant Joker card. At that last one he stared longer than at any of the other objects.
"Why do you carry guns?" Bruce continued his interrogation.
Red's lateness in replying seemed to have been caused by indignation rather than any attempts at lying, "I fight the criminals in Gotham. Don't you?"
"I don't kill," Bruce bit out. "I hate guns."
"Guns are a tool. You should direct your hate at the user, not the tool."
Bruce thought of Joe Chill. "Trust me, I do," he said.
"Hm." Red's mannerisms were the same as Bruce's. The quietness, the inquisitiveness, the sounds he made while he was thinking.
“What are your intentions toward my world?” Bruce asked.
“What?”
“Answer,” Bruce demanded sharply.
“What do you mean by your world? Gotham? You think it's yours?” Red sounded genuinely confused, his voice low and gruff. He didn’t seem the sort capable of lying.
Bruce frowned. Was it possible the man wasn’t aware he traveled between dimensions? Or maybe something else was at stake here and Bruce was the one who reached a conclusion too fast without carefully analyzing the presented evidence.
"Were you recently in contact with anyone or anything suspicious? Out of the ordinary?”
“Other than you? No.”
“Hnn.” Bruce paused for a moment and then decided to just go for it and speak frankly. It was the second time that night that he was indulging in fulfilling his spontaneous plans while in Red's company. "Do you know what alternate dimensions are?"
"What." Red's gruff voice was so deadpan that he didn't even ask the question with enough inflection to it.
"Alternate worlds, where some things may have happened differently than in your own. That's why you don't recognize the cave. That's why I am here, as a Batman who is different from you."
"What?" Now Red was finally grasping the concept. He sounded surprised, but also like he was hopeful about something, his breath coming heavy in a rush. Red leaned forward towards Bruce.
He wanted to ask something. Bruce derailed him.
"Do you recall anyone or anything that may have brought you here? Mysterious objects that you picked up? Magical users? Curses? Weird lights?"
Red grunted in annoyance.
"No, there were no such things in my life. Ever. Can I ask you something?"
Bruce frowned. There they go. Red was interested in the idea of alternate universes. There was an answer he needed, possibly about an event that haunted him, that he couldn't stop from occurring. Bruce would hate to crush his hopes. Their universes weren't the same. Whatever answers Bruce could offer Red, would never be fully satisfactory to the other Batman.
"Depends on what you ask," Bruce responded coldly.
And Red questioned, breathless and nervous, and with all of his attention eagerly directed at Bruce, "Tell me, is Bruce Wayne alive in this dimension?"
And Bruce gaped, suddenly shocked still.
A realization hit him. That he assumed something wrongly before about Red's identity.
Red wasn't a different, older version of Bruce Wayne. Red was someone else entirely. Someone who knew some other version of Bruce Wayne, a version that apparently was dead.
"Why ask?" Bruce goaded the other into explaining.
"I just need to know if he's alive." Hearing the amount of unhidden emotion in Red's voice, Bruce decided to answer truthfully.
"Bruce Wayne is alive and well."
Red's breath escaped him in a rush, his subsequent inhale was shaky and raspy, turning wet from emotion. He started hyperventilating, gasping desperately for air.
"Breathe." Bruce put a gloved hand gently on the other Batman's cheek. Red shook his head and suddenly he was crying, loud sobs leaving his mouth and tears slipping underneath the cowl. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.”
Bruce’s instincts of a father and a caretaker activated right away, and he moved closer on the floor, hugging Red close to himself. It was natural for him to offer comfort to those who needed it. He reached out for the man’s ungloved hands and squeezed them in reassurance.
“I promise, everything is alright,” he reassured the other man softly.
“He’s alive,” Red said with his rough voice strained from despair. He gripped Bruce’s hands so tightly that he could break them. “You’re telling me he’s safe.”
Bruce felt choked up by the clear care and love expressed through Red’s words. Who was Red? Did Bruce know the version of him in this universe? …What if Red was actually one of his kids? (The red bat symbol? The aggression? The guns? Was he Jason?!) The sex would inevitably make things very, very awkward, if that was the case...
Red Batman kept talking, asking in a shaking voice, “Is he happy? Do you know if he is…”
“I…” Bruce was at a loss for words. He felt his own heart clenching at the other man's obvious distress. This was important to him. Bruce Wayne's wellbeing was important to him. In the face of that concern about Bruce Wayne, Bruce let go of his limitations and self-imposed barriers.
Bruce pulled away and took his cowl off. "I am Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself.
Red flinched back, taking his hands away from his as if burned, and he fell on his ass on the cave floor. Bruce was surprised at the extreme reaction.
So Red was Jason then, huh… Well, this was going to be a difficult conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce started with a grimace. “We shouldn’t have done what we just did. I can only imagine how shocking it must be to discover you just had sex with your father figure."
“With a- Bruce, what? Who do you think I am, Bruce, sweetheart, my darling angel?” Bruce blinked in surprise at the amount of pet names.
"Jason?" Bruce asked hesitantly, with a small frown.
Red stayed still for a moment and then he whispered weakly, as if he gave up, "I am not Jason."
"Who are you then?" Bruce inquired seriously. "You clearly know me. Would I know who you are in my world?"
"I bet you would. I… Fuck, Bruce, what did I do to you, baby?" Red put his face in his hands and his shoulders shook because of another sob. After the odd reaction to his face, Bruce was more hesitant about physically comforting him.
"What's done is done. We cannot take it back," Bruce announced the truth of the matter, the cold facts.
"I'm so sorry," Red whispered, still distressed.
"I'm not?" Bruce whispered back, but he wasn't so sure about those words anymore. Then he demanded, "Who are you?"
Red inhaled deeply and straightened up.
"I'm so sorry, Bruce," he said and reached up for the cowl, sliding it off and revealing a weary, age-lined face, gray-black hair, cheeks wet with tears, tired blue eyes surrounded by redness caused by his crying.
Something about this man was pulling at some old, long-forgotten memories in Bruce's mind. He looked familiar.
Familiar.
Family.
Father.
Fuck.
Bruce gasped sharply and now he understood Red Batman's distress. He blinked rapidly, evening out his breaths.
He just got fucked by…
But this wasn't his father. No. His father was dead. This was a different version of him, an older version that clearly lived longer, past that night.
So Bruce settled on gathering facts instead of analyzing his own emotions and dwelling on regrets, "Is Bruce Wayne dead in your universe? What about mother?"
Thomas frowned and explained, "Bruce was shot when he was eight. I couldn't protect him… It's my fault he died. Martha is… alive. But she's not… herself."
Bruce gave his own version of events to compare them, to show the proof of where their universes went in separate directions, "When I was eight years old, my parents died. That is the difference between our worlds. So you just started gunning down criminals afterwards?"
"It was my revenge."
Bruce sighed, "Clearly, we have a different stance on killing."
"Why is that? Why don't you kill?"
"I don't want anyone to ever experience what I went through."
The tense, suspicious expression on Thomas's face finally shattered, the hard lines relaxed and turned tender and apologetic.
"You're alive…" Thomas whispered in wonder, as if once again asking for confirmation of that simple fact, still in disbelief over that discovery, the shocking news that hit him with no warning.
Bruce's father, or rather a version of him, was alive too. Bruce was just as shaken up by that realization as the other man was, Bruce simply learned better how to hide his reactions, his emotional turmoil. It was better not to show too many cards, especially after what they did together. His entire perception of his self was tinged with regret now, full of anger at how he could have been so stupid to allow for this to happen, to just let himself get fucked by a stranger and respond to their advances so enthusiastically.
He made the wrong call. They both did. Now they had to somehow move past that regretful experience and do something about the shitty cards they were dealt.