Dick walked through the hallways of the Clocktower. He could think only of Barbara Gordon. Not just the Oracle or Batgirl or even Babs. The redhaired goddess he had grown up with, already a vision of beauty when he first met her, only gaining loveliness and a temptingly withdrawn sexuality as she matured. Her sparkling green eyes seemed to constantly dare something to sate the sensual appetites just barely hidden in the quirk of her full lips and the blooming blush of her low-cut tops. He was going to take that dare.
Barbara had joked once that she slept in her perfume. Maybe nothing else? Dick shivered at the potential. There was something breathtakingly lascivious at the thought of having her, not as she presented herself, in all her seductive primness and propriety, but raw, bare, in the unvarnished innocence of her sleep. More than anything, he just wanted to see her glowing beauty, without the pinned-up hair and crisp eyeglasses that made her look so reserved.
And yet, if he woke her, she might be angry, might summon up the intimidating sexuality he was for once trying to avoid. She might even turn him away. But he needed this. After working his way through Donna, and Kory, and Komand'r, he still needed more. He needed Barbara.
When Dick eased the bedroom door open, its soft whisper on the rug sent a chill to pinprick his every nerve. He had forgotten the giveaway sound of the deep pile carpet. He waited, holding his breath. On the bed, a thin sheet draped over Barbara, showcasing the voluptuousness of her nudity. Burgeoning breasts, womanly hips, the kinky tangling of the sheets around her body drawing them nearly taut save for a few knotted folds. Dick thought he might be able to see through the semitranslucent concealment to the pink bareness of her body, but the filtering moonlight from outside the room's sash window covered her body in a pattern of light and shadow, concealing her as adroitly as any of Starfire's costumes.
Tempted out of his nervy anxiety by the half-temptation she offered, obscured even in sleep, Dick neared the edge of the bed. He stared at the red hair that emerged from the white sheets to surrounded her pale face like flame around a matchhead, a duller orange than Kory's fiery red, but fitting Barbara's more subtle beauty. A simmering flame, a low-burning one, but no less warm than Kory's raging inferno. His eyes moved to Barbara's sweetly winsome face, seeming much younger without her glasses, though he couldn't say she looked any sexier. Those glasses made her practically a dominatrix, all by themselves. He could look at her face for hours, but what mattered now was that there was no flickering eyelash or forming expression to hint she was anything but unconscious.
And yet, Barbara Gordon was wide awake.
It was the soft noise of the door rolling over the carpeting that had brought Barbara fully out of her waking dream. She'd been missing Dick, and the thought of him had needled her from the moment she first laid down. Through squinting eyes she watched quietly as he came to her, like her lustful dreams had summoned him. And yet, she could see from his erection that it was his own lust that had brought him here.
As Barbara watched, he reached her side, paused, and indulged in the sight of her. She could feel his gaze as he desired every feature of her face and every curve of his body. The sound of his breathing was even and slow as he watched how the sheet, drawn tightly across her chest, billowed out with each heaving breath. He didn't have the air of a panicky voyeur any longer. Now he seemed to take pride in the sight of her, a sense of ownership, a masculine urge to accept the challenge of pleasing her.
He kissed her forehead lightly, then quickly straightened. He remained motionless for long minutes, his knees touching the edge of the bed. No way she could steal a glance below his waist without a giveaway movement of her eyelashes, but the heat of his eyes upon her grew and grew. Barbara felt herself becoming flustered as his yearning gaze became a calculation of how to satisfy her; making her take pleasure in having herself be gorged upon by him. She breathed deeper than she had to, thrusting her breasts out so that her nipples pushed against their censoring veil.
In a flashing movement, he threw off the robe. Just like that, all of Barbara's fond recollections of his naked body proved true. Able to look freely as Dick backed a step from the bed, she drank in the taut muscles, the powerful chest, the rippling strength of his abs, and there—that bold overdevelopment of masculinity, seeming almost too much for his lithe body to bear.
A smothered sound of agony slipped from his lips and even as she heard it, Barbara saw his hand circle the base of his cock. He moved knees tight to the side of the bed and his pelvis thrust forward so that his prick actually jutted across her face, not more than a foot above her eyes. She could see the power trembling in his shaft, smell the potent treasure sealed in his testicles.
Certain he was going to masturbate and leave, Barbara watched from under long lashes. His stroking started... intensified... then stopped! There, stark white on bloody purple in the moonlight, his bared cock shot out from his own dwarfed hand, gripped by a young man trying to fight the impulses sweeping him. Now he stood there, brandishing his manhood indecisively, almost unable to contain the wanton cries trying to break from his lips.
It was time to force his hand.
Dick gaped at Barbara's slight movement under the sheet. She seemed to be shifting her leg. Heart-stopping fear swept through him, nearly driving him into retreat. Then the even movement under the sheet near her chest slowed his terror. She was breathing evenly again, unaware of his presence, lost in slumber, he assured himself. Breathless from his buildup to near orgasm, Dick was unable to go on masturbating. His curiosity outweighed his lust, merged with it to become something even more potent.
Did she wear pajamas or a nightie? Her shoulder showed bare. She could be naked underneath the sheet!
And that quirky turn of her leg. Looked like she had bent her calf up under her thigh as she slept. Looked like the thighs were slightly separated!
He reached very gently to the sheet, not daring to breathe, and tugged the edge carefully away from her chin. Slowly exposing her nudity, his chest thundering to his boldness, Dick slid the white sheet downward.
The tease of the blanket moving against her breasts sent the nipples to rock-hard points and sensual electricity rifled to every erogenous tip of Barbara's body. He saw one arm move, then the other, but now he was unafraid. She had to be in a deep sleep and he was lost in total worship of the phenomenal body he was exposing.
The luscious breasts leaped from their hiding place under the sheet and that startled him, for breasts, he thought, always lay in repose when a woman lay relaxed. But like every other stunning thing about Barbara, her cleavage jutted full and firm and hard-tipped. God, to kiss those sweet dark aureoles... to suck and lick there... and there... and down there!
His hand drew the sheet rapidly now, down over the indentation of her navel, across the flat smoothness of her belly to the hot embers of her pubic hair. The provocative lift of her mons stopped the sheet's movement and he straightened, gawking at the partially uncovered vee.
