A Lesson in Motives

by Virginia





He could have overlooked the error that nearly cost the younger man his life. Well, overlooked was the wrong word. He would make sure the error was not forgotten, but it would be forgiven. That kind of carelessness was a grave offense in their work, and not something Dick Grayson was usually guilty of. Bruce could see how it had happened. His young partner had been under a lot of stress lately with Finals week approaching, not to mention his preparations for graduate school entrance exams that he would surely ace, even considering he was entering grad school several years ahead of the average student...

But that was Dick. He had a definite propensity to over-prepare. Bruce supposed he had the same character trait, himself. With a good deal more years and more maturity on his Ward, Bruce Wayne knew how to pace himself. In running himself down lately, Dick Grayson had been setting up for disaster. It had been near disaster, when his chute had not opened because he had failed to give it the double-check Bruce had instilled in him since their first days together teaming as Batman and Robin. Quick reflexes and a fortuitous selection of gear in his utility belt had aided the Caped Crusader in saving his young partner.

Bruce could accept that a mistake had been made; the young man was repentant and they could move on, after a good lengthy lecture on safety issues once they arrived back at the estate. His young lover however wanted only to make a promise he would be more careful in the future - not to waste precious weekend time hearing Bruce out on an all-afternoon lecture and maybe even a safety refresher course.

They rolled into the cave and with practiced ease did away with the return tasks they always saw to before leaving the subterranean command center. Once they had changed into street-clothes - once again merely Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson - the older man had no sooner opened his mouth with a serious "About that chute, Dick..." than the younger man was up-close and very personal with Wayne.

A warm hand rubbed Bruce's hip and strayed over his groin, gently cupping the generous endowment. Dick purred in his smoothest seduction voice, "C'mon, Bruce. I was going to study, but I can think of a better way to spend the next hour or so. Let's get out of here and get upstairs." All the while his eyes were so innocent yet hiding his agenda. Bruce felt a bubbling rage on the verge of eruption.

He pushed the younger man abruptly away and quickly banked his emotions down. He was outwardly calm, but the brief exchange had firmed a resolve in his mind to do more with his young partner than simply talk.

Alfred passed by the doorway before Bruce could say anything to Grayson. The elderly man paused as if he could pick up on the tension in the small corridor. "Can I be of any assistance, gentlemen?" was all he said, reacting only with a raised eyebrow.

"No, Alfred," Bruce spoke evenly, his eyes never leaving the younger man. "Dick and I will be in the library for a while this afternoon. Undisturbed."

Only a beat passed before the butler nodded. "Of course, Sir, as you wish." He bowed out of their presence. Able to read his employer so well after so many years, he knew when to remove himself from affairs between the other two men.

Behind him Bruce could detect an audible intake of breath. He turned, running cool eyes over the youth. Dick was fully dressed, as was Bruce. His beautifully supple yet conditioned body beckoned beneath those slacks and polo shirt, but Wayne effectively shut off the hormonal part of his brain. "The library, Dick," he repeated, and left without waiting for an acknowledgment.

Once both men stepped inside the large library, Bruce closed and locked the doors. There really was no need - Alfred would see to it they were left uninterrupted for as long as Bruce kept the doors shut. The action of locking them played on the younger man's nerves, though. There was no sign of the sexy tease in him now, Bruce noted, only warily waiting to see what direction Bruce's displeasure would take.

Bruce folded his arms and spoke in a deceptively calm voice, as if he were casually addressing a routine topic. "Dick, the safety error was a major oversight on your part. You could have been killed today. I had been prepared to give you a sound safety lecture in the hopes that you would remember the next time. It would cost you an afternoon of your time - nothing more. But the use of sex..." The older man paused as the white-hot anger again surged upward; he was determined to see this through in full composure, not in the heat of anger. "Your trying to use sex, in the hopes of escaping any repercussion for the error, is not acceptable to me in the least. You don't know, yet, just how angry it's made me."

Dick's mouth fell open, ready to deny the accusation. Before words could spill out and get him into further trouble, however, he took a deep breath rethought his next actions. Bruce was angry, regardless of the outward calm, or they wouldn't be here, essentially "locked" up in the library - Bruce's favorite room in the house, his sanctuary. It was where the older man always opted to come talk matters out. It was where the two men had first made love to each other, on the rug in front of the fireplace. It had also often been the site for Bruce to administer to his Ward's needs in the discipline department.

Dick blushed as he admitted, "You're right Bruce. I'm sorry - I shouldn't try to get out of things that are important. I do know safety is important...." He trailed off as the older man frowned, knowing that was not a good sign.

"That tells me you do not get my point, Dick. It is not acceptable for you to use our sexual relationship, for any reason except for the sake of intimacy between us. I won't tolerate it. What we have is too important... And you're right, the safety issue is important. I think you need a brief lesson in priorities. I haven't had to discipline you in a few months now; maybe that's the problem."

"Bruce, come on! For simply reaching out to touch you...?"

"No, Dick, not for that. You still don't get it."

Grayson had the distinct impression he was about to 'get it.' His mouth went dry as he watched his mentor and lover go to his huge mahogany desk and retrieve a paddle. It was smallish and fit nicely in Bruce's hand. Dick had had worse, in the paddle department, but that was no consolation whatsoever. He'd had this one, too, and he knew firsthand that it did the job quite effectively.

In his usual organized manner, Bruce calmly outlined for his Ward exactly what lay ahead. "I feel you need to be reminded about my priorities, because they should be your priorities too, at least for as long as we're partners. I'm going to apply this paddle where you need it, while you think about matters. Then hopefully when you have a warm bottom and a clear head, we'll talk it over some more."

Bruce could never simply administer his Ward's discipline, Dick thought glumly as he blushed anew at his mentor's words. Whether it was a lecture, a grounding, or a session bent over to receive a painful reminder - the older man believed in talking before, during and after. Always lovingly but firmly administered, Bruce Wayne lectured before the lecture, explained a grounding ten different ways, and blatantly described the corporal punishment that awaited his young Ward and partner.

Grayson noted the older man's set jaw and firm resolve, and resigned himself to what he had coming. Sometimes Bruce had him bend over that big, beautiful desk when he'd earned discipline. Other times it was to have him lay across the Turkish bench Dick had always been certain Bruce had acquired purely for that purpose, it served that function so well. This time, Wayne sat down on the leather couch and Dick groaned. NOT over the knee, he begged internally, please tell me it's not. Nothing made him feel more like a naughty little boy than when Bruce Wayne put him over his knee ... which, Dick supposed, supposed was precisely the point.

In that eerie way his mentor and lover had of practically reading his mind, Bruce said as he situated himself in the center of the long sofa, "What you tried to do with sex was childish, Dick. Sex is a very special part of our relationship, and it will NOT interfere with the job, with both of us being safe."

"I know, Bruce, I understand." He tried not to sound whiny, not to sound like he was so very close to begging for a reprieve. Spending the rest of the weekend unable to sit down to do his studying was definitely NOT what he wanted, but he knew he should have thought of that sooner.

"I'm going to reinforce the point. Come over here and lower your slacks, Dick."

No, not that too. In every way, he was going to be treated like a little child. With an inward groan and resignation in his step, the younger man moved toward the couch. He stopped just beside the knees he would soon lie across and reached to unfasten the pants he only so recently put on.

"Leave your shorts on."

When Bruce Wayne really wanted to impress on the younger man that he had behaved like a child, he had to submit to the older man in every way - even allowing Bruce to take down his shorts and bare his bottom. Dick sighed and did as directed, then accepted the hand offered to help him down over Bruce's lap. A minute of re-situating ensued, Bruce being Bruce and always wanting things just right. Disturbingly, it made it seem to Dick as if they were going to be there, in that position, for a long time. He must have really pissed the older man off, he thought as he felt the very familiar hands now so business-like, no-nonsense as they shifted his body.

When Bruce was serious about something, he was one-track minded. If it was important enough to him, he would pass through hell or high water to do what he felt was right - like imparting well-deserved discipline to his Ward. It didn't matter that they were now lovers, Dick in college and no longer a child. Bruce had once assured him that would always be the case. The first time a corporal discipline issue came up after they'd become lovers, Dick had been surprised to find himself once again bottom-up, no different than any previous time. Bruce had made it clear that no matter Dick's age or their status with each other, if discipline was called for and Bruce felt it would do any good, Dick could count on it.

One large, very capable hand now rested at the waist band to Dick's shorts; Bruce's other arm secured the younger man's back. In his calm and well-mannered voice, Bruce said: "Dick, you behaved in a very childish manner. What happens when you do so, and it earns you some well-deserved discipline?"

Dick knew the answer, from past infractions that amounted to the same thing: childishness. Infractions that came down to childishness were the times Bruce reserved for over-the-knee spankings, believing the punishment should fit the crime. His voice small and child-like now, at least to his own ears, he was dismayed to hear, Dick answered him: "I go over your knee to be spanked."

"That's exactly right."

Bruce didn't believe in prolonging these situations, at least. Once he had the response he needed to hear from his Ward, he took action and Dick soon felt the smooth wooden paddle slam into his left buttock. He grunted at the searing pain but kept his mouth tightly closed, determined to last through the punishment without a word. His right cheek soon had the same treatment, followed by a series of spanks to alternating cheeks, the smack of the paddle on bare skin filling the library with sharp cracks of sound.

Dick kept his resolution and uttered no more than occasional grunts and groans when a particularly hard blow fell. All in all, the discipline session did not last as long as he had expected. The spanking soon stopped, and Dick could sense that the older man lowered his arm and placed the paddle beside him on the couch. It was when that strong hand that had wielded the implement now rested, palm down, on one of his burning ass cheeks that Dick felt alarm. He'd been across this man's lap enough times over the years to read the body language. It wasn't over yet.

Again, with that uncanny ability to know his thoughts, Bruce said, "I think a little more is called for, Dick. You misused a very intimate part of our relationship. I think it's fitting to make your discipline more intimate as well, by using my hand."

Dick would have thought that having the young man across his lap, applying a wood paddle to his bare bottom was quite intimate in and of itself. His mentor obviously did not agree. The hand lifted off his hot cheek and immediately fell, dropping a stinging slap over one red buttock. The same rhythm started as with the paddle. This time Dick gasped, the intensity of spanks falling on already-heated flesh pushing him dangerously close to tears.

This time the spanking ranged lower to include the underside of his bottom, as well as the tops of his thighs. Dick's gasps became cries of pain, unable to hold them in. Just as the first sob broke forth from his mouth and he was sure begging would soon follow, one final, hard spank fell square on his bottom and Bruce's hand rested there.

Dick brought his sobs under control and fought the urge to squirm out from under that punishing hand. He didn't want to urge the other man into applying any further discipline to his already-abused backside.

Minutes later Bruce lifted his hand and helped his young lover stand and raise his pants. "Sit with me, Dick." He always insisted on this, after, and while the sitting part was agony at first, the closeness was something they both needed. Dick sat carefully on the leather cushion, unable to contain a hiss at the painful contact. He managed to settle his weight, by shifting toward Bruce and keeping as much pressure off his rear as possible. The older man drew him close, sheltering the young man beneath his arm. They sat cuddled in this way for a long time, without speaking. Finally Bruce said into his ear, lips brushing lightly over Dick's hair, "What we have is so special, Dick. Don't ever use it against us, or as a means of avoiding something unpleasant. You know I love it when you take the initiative, sexually, but never as an excuse for something else."

"I know," came the tearful reply, true repentance in the voice. Bruce knew the present tears were from the physical closeness they now shared as much as from the physical discipline the younger man had just received. "I knew you were going to lecture me about checking the chutes..."

"And a lecture would have undoubtedly lasted longer, but been infinitely less painful," he gently chided the other man.

He received a nod in response; he knew his young lover recognized the truth of that statement. Bruce squeezed the man tighter to himself, welcoming the returned embrace.