Two or Three?

"Yes?" Ivy's tone was cool, but didn't mask her anticipation.

"It was... one if by land, two if by sea."

"What?" Ivy looked blank, then frowned. "I gave you an order. Tell me the code on that paper."

"Sorry, Ivy," smirked Tim. "Name, rank, and serial number. That's all you're getting from me." He watched her consternation, amused.

Without saying anything, she leaned forward again, and Tim made a point of openly ogling her. She kissed his other cheek, hard, and pulled back, studying him intently.

"Sorry, doll. Not this time. When Batman heard you had gotten out, he gave us all a shot. Your lipstick, your blood, and all your other little potions; no effect on me, so sorry." As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back; he had given too much away, especially his immunity to Ivy's toxic body chemistry. Surprise enhances any weapon. Perhaps it was inevitable, though. His small victory, after a night of defeats, coupled with the mild arousal Ivy's kisses and body had given him, had loosened his tongue.

Ivy ground her teeth together. She looked away from Tim and deliberately refused to answer him. "Come on, Harl." She stalked out of the room, Harley following her timidly. After working with the Joker for so long, she now had the habit of meekness whenever her partner became upset; it was a knee-jerk response, but one that had kept her alive and healthy so far. The two left and closed the door behind them. Tim settled back into his pinions.Round one to me.And maybe by the time they figure out their next move, Batman will be here. * * * * *

The room the pair had entered was much more comfortably furnished than Tim's. Had Tim been able to see it, he would have immediately recognized it as a home, a space where people actually lived, and people with good taste too: the table and couches were expensive, the prints on the walls well-chosen. The kitchenette off to one side and the loft above it marked this apartment as clearly as the plaster and hardwood floors did: small, but well-furnished, this was an apartment for Gotham's middle class, with education and refinement but not enough money for anything bigger, given Gotham's absurd rental rates. Ivy owned the building through a few blind corporations, and kept it as a safehouse. As far as she knew, no one else was aware of her possession of it. With the other apartments empty (but occupied on paper), it was a perfect blind.

"Ivy? What are we gonna do?"

"Shh, Harl, I'm thinking."

The two sat together on one of the couches, Ivy sitting back and reclining, Harl curled up next to her. Ivy's sharp tone was belied by the gentle strokes she gave to Harley's hair, which served to calm both of them.

"Hmmm. We're in a tough spot, Harley. I don't have much of a pharm lab here, or many components, either. Certainly not enough of a setup to make a new hypnotic drug. We can't afford to go outside again, not with everyone looking for us, especially Batman, when he finds out his pet's gone. If we had the code, we could do the job and get out of town until the heat dies down, but it's too dangerous to leave without that code, not even for lab materials. We need to get it from him! ...But how?"

Harley spoke quietly, as if to the air rather than to Ivy. "Successful interrogation depends upon the application of pressure, either physical, mental, or emotional."

Ivy didn't show it, but internally she perked up. Harley was much more lucid out of costume than in it, but even when she wasn't in her work clothes she was flighty and unpredictable. Sometimes, though, Harley had moments of sharp clarity, especially when she drew upon her psychological training. Those moments couldn't be forced, but Ivy had learned to seize the opportunity they offered when they arose.

"What pressure can we bring to bear, dear?"

"Several avenues of approach suggest themselves. One: the subject's alter ego. A threat to expose it might provoke cooperation."

"Too dangerous, I think. Physical danger that oh-so-innocent-looking mask offers aside, the information would make us targets of both the Batman and the underworld. Not a position I relish."

"Two: physical pain. Given sufficient suffering, any subject will eventually submit to his captors' wishes."

"Also too dangerous. If he lied, we couldn't be certain of it until it was too late to go back and get the real code. What's more, the amount of damage we'd have to do to get him to cooperate... Batman would be just as provoked as if we'd killed him."

Still stroking Harley's hair, Ivy mused: "When we've got the code, we let him go, unhurt and with identity still unknown. Batman will have too many other problems and too little incentive to come after us. How do we do it, Harl?"

"Three: emotional pressure. Popularly known as 'Stockholm syndrome,' given the right circumstances a captive can... can... can, can you do the can-can, can you do the can-can, can you do the- LA la la la la la la!" Kicking her legs up, Harley laughed, sprang off the couch, and did a handstand. Ivy sighed. These moments of hers only lasted so long, then her irrational side reasserted itself, stronger than ever. It was darling, but at the moment rather inconvenient.

"That's all right, love. I think you've given us the answer."

Returning to her feet, Harley said "What? What's the answer? Was I talking? It's so hard to find good help these days."

"You were saying that if we can't break him, we have to convert him. Make him our friend, not an enemy. Then he'll tell us what we want to know."

Harley curled her lip and squinted in an exaggerated pose of dubiety. "Gee, Red, make him our friend? We've been tangling with each other now for, what, gee, a long time now, huh? Seems like he's pretty sure he's not our friend."

"Maybe so. But you know what, Harl? He's fifteen years old, at least, but not much older."

"So?"

"He's macho enough to withstand pain. But I watched him when I kissed him before. He's not mature enough, I bet, to withstand pleasure..."

* * * * *

At first, Tim tried to stay awake. He'd been knocked out, and maybe had a concussion; and everyone knew that people with concussions shouldn't go to sleep. After an hour, though, his head felt fine—no ringing, no auras in his vision—and his shoulder did too. His bonds were tight, but not excessively uncomfortable. His fatigue had an open field on him, and finally, exhausted, he succumbed. Even as he slipped out, he exulted that every minute that passed brought rescue that much closer.

He snapped awake when the door opened. Harley came in, dressed as before, dragging a mattress behind her. She plopped it to the floor in front of his chair, then retreated. It was a big one, queen-sized. In a moment she returned with a big comforter and draped it over the mattress, then left again. When she came back a third time, with pillows, he spoke. "What, is this the Hotel 6? Don't go to all this trouble on my account; I can just crash on the couch." She stuck her tongue out at him, and then left, shutting the door. Tim was left to ponder the makeshift bed before him. He was perplexed. What was going on here? Did they really expect him to be here long enough to need a bed? And were they going to untie him from the chair to sleep in it? He sure hoped they would. Without any bonds, he might be able to spare himself the humiliation of having Batman rescue him by effecting an escape himself.

In a little while the door opened again and the two of them entered. They had changed clothes: Ivy was in a sort of sea-green evening gown, cut low across the chest and high across the thighs, and Harley... he frowned. Harley was in a similar outfit, this one Lincoln green. What, were they sharing wardrobes now? He noted, despite himself, that Harley filled out the bosom of her gown nicely; it strained against her breasts, which were more ample than Ivy's. The pair kneeled before him on the mattress and looked up at him.Weird... why would they surrender the advantage of height? Harley smiled wickedly at him but said nothing; Ivy spoke for both of them.

"Look, kid, here's the deal." She began ticking off points on her fingers. "First. Batman's not coming." She saw him start and smiled; that was a point for her. "We figured there was some tracking device in your stuff, so we ditched it some ways from here. He can't find you that way, and he doesn't know about this place. Even if he did, Two-Face has a hostage situation going at Gotham Towers, and Croc is running amuck in the harbour. He's got a lot on his plate. You're on your own."

Tim stared at her, refusing to give anything away. She continued, undisturbed. "Second. All we want from you is that code you saw. Giving it to us won't hurt anyone; it's a combination key to a vault at the LexCorp branch office, filled with bearer bonds. It's not guarded, because that vault is impenetrable... unless you know the code to open it, which changes every two days. Give us the code, and we'll slip in, get the money, and slip out again. No one is injured, and the only harm done is that Lex Luthor loses some money, which he won't miss, and he probably deserves to lose it anyway. So what is giving us that code going to hurt? It gets you free, it gets us out of Gotham and out of Batman's hair. Everyone wins."

Tim still said nothing. It was his job to thwart criminals, not aid them, no matter how blameless their crimes seemed. And, of course, they'd just be back once they ran through Lex's money, and the next victim might be someone who didn't deserve to be robbed. He shook his head slightly. Inwardly, though, he groaned. He couldn't escape; he couldn't count on rescue. What could he do?

"Third. We don't want to hurt you. We're not psychotic lunatics, like..." She caught herself just in time. Harley would never have forgiven her. "...like Two-Face, or the Riddler. We want a non-violent solution. Won't you just give us the code?" She looked up at him, her face pleading. Her lip quivered. Staring at Poison Ivy, who seemed ready to break out in tears, Tim's resolve flagged.Get a grip, man! he berated himself.It's just a trick. "No dice," he muttered.

"I know you don't believe me when I say we mean no harm. But maybe I can prove it to you." She rose to her feet and stepped forward. Daintily, she sat on his lap, her silk gown rustling as it rubbed against his cotton briefs. She bent down. As her lovely face filled his vision, he just had time to realize her lipstick was ruby red, not green.So if she isn't using the mind-control lipstick, what is she...? He never finished the thought. Her lips pressed against his. Shocked, he felt her tongue press against his teeth, and before he knew what he was doing, he parted them and let her in.

Tim had very little experience with girls. Early in adolescence his family situation had left him little opportunity to meet people his own age, as he was forced to find a way to live on the street. After his adoption as Bruce Wayne's ward, he'd had even less time, as his training as Robin, then his night patrols, combined with home schooling with Alfred, meant he had very little free time and no one to take out during it. He'd had a few well-chaperoned dates with other children of high society, but that was all. The only real girl he'd spent time with was Barbara—Batgirl—but she was a few years older than he was, and all business whenever he was around. Still, they'd worked out together, and once he'd gotten a glimpse of her in the shower. He'd spent many nights fantasizing about her. Though he'd done much more in his imagination, in real life he'd never kissed a girl before, despite his maturity. So now, when Ivy kissed him, his glands went into overdrive.

They held the embrace a long moment, Tim enjoying every moment of it, even while reminding himself this wasPoison Ivy, eco-terrorist and murderer. Worse, she was also a monster; without Bruce's blockers, exposure to her saliva or blood would mean sickness or death for him. His mind went over these facts, but they couldn't restrain his body. His hormones flooding his system, he was acutely conscious that his cock was stiffening, and pressing up against Ivy's legs.

Ivy knew it, too. She broke their kiss with a sigh, and whispered "Oh, baby." Rising to her feet, she stepped back as daintily as before. Reaching down, she took hold of his briefs and pulled them down slightly. His cock sprang free, rising up to its full six inches.

Ivy's eyes widened. "Oooh, Harley," she breathed, "look." "Mmmm," Harley cooed, and smacked her lips. Tim flushed, embarrassed, pleased, and excited all at once.

"It's so big," Ivy went on, still in her breathy siren-voice. "But maybe we can make it bigger. Harley, if you would?"

Harley stood and stepped behind Ivy and fumbled at her back.This was rehearsed, Tim thought.They planned this. He was too tired and horny to work out the implications, though. In a moment, Tim heard a zipper open. Slowly, seductively, Ivy reached up and pulled at her gown, and it fell away from her, leaving her nude.

She was everything he'd imagined, her skin milky-pale and hairless, her breasts perky, thrusting forward toward him. Her pubic hair was shaven, leaving only a delicate strip.Just like the centerfolds, Tim thought. She struck a pose and sighed. Tim's eyes bugged. After a moment, she turned and pulled at Harley's zipper. Harley's gown didn't fall away, held up by her chest; Ivy had to tug at it, hard, before it tumbled to the ground. Again his suspicions were confirmed. Harley was less classically beautiful than Ivy, and her figure wasn't quite as well-proportioned, but her breasts were generous indeed. Harley watched him watch her, then turned to Ivy. "Just like Mistah J! A boob man, fer sure." With a sunny smile, she took a deep breath, and her chest pushed out. Tim gasped at the sight. Harley laughed, her breasts and pigtails bouncing as a result.

"You like them, huh, Robin?" Ivy cooed. Stepping behind Harley, she reached up and cupped Harley's breasts. Robin, like a man in a trance, stared, his jaw slightly open, as Ivy's slender white fingers caressed Harley's tanned chest. Harley turned her head, leaning back towards Ivy, and the two kissed, long and deeply.

Guess Babs was right, Robin thought.These two are partners in more than just crime. Does that mean they're not interested in men? He was certainly interested in them. His cock was painfully stiff now.

Ivy and Harley sank to the bed, into a sitting position, Ivy behind Harley, wrapping her long legs around Harley's waist. They kissed again. Ivy's hands slid down Harley's chest, taking the opportunity to tickle her midsection, before finally reaching her crotch. Harley's pubic hair was a small patch of blonde fuzz. Resting her palm on it, Ivy slid her fingers down into Harley's mound and began stroking it. Tim couldn't quite make out the details, but Harley certainly seemed to enjoy it, breaking her kiss to cheer her lover on. "Oh, Red... Red... that's the spot, Red... oh... oh... keep going, don't stop... oh... oh..."

Harley's chorus of pleasure was more than Tim could bear. He hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction, but he couldn't resist any more. He tried to reach his cock with his right hand, but couldn't quite get to it, thanks to the handcuffs; nor was his left any better positioned. He struggled and squirmed, but in vain. Drips of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Harley, concentrating on her own needs, had her eyes closed, but Ivy's were open, and she saw what Tim was doing. She smiled: another point for her. "Oooh, Robin, would your boss approve? Just give me a moment, darling, and I'll see what I can do." She suddenly doubled her efforts, her fingers surely parting Harley's sex and rubbing Harley's clit with newfound energy. After a few moments, Harley screamed in delight, and fell backwards on the bed, writhing in pleasure. Ivy looked down at her tenderly, and then looked up at Tim, her expression changing to a lascivious smile, her lips slightly open. She crawled towards him, resting her chin on his knee. Her hair slid and twisted against his legs.

"You've had all your shots, right, lover? Good. Then I'm free to do this..."

She pushed forward, so that his cock pressed up against her cheek. She moved her head purposefully, rubbing it this way and that across her face. Tim stared, too tense to breathe. She opened her mouth and began to lick him, softly.Just like a mother cat cleaning her kittens, Tim thought, dazed. She started with the tiny ropes of pre-cum, licking them up and swallowing them, moaning softly as she did so. When those were gone, she licked him all over, from the tip to the base of his shaft. Soon his cock glistened, slick with her saliva.

Harley, in the meantime, had lazily gotten up and crawled forward. Easing Ivy to one side, she bent over his lap. Ivy stopped her licking to kiss Harley, then broke it off, the two of them turning to his swollen prick. Now Harley licked his shaft while Ivy lowered herself down and sucked on his balls, first the left, then the right. Harley's attentions were different from Ivy's; Ivy's strokes of the tongue had been slight and precise. Harley lacked this finesse, but made up for it with energy, making long, sloppy passes along his rod. Tim stared at them, not wanting to blink, not wanting to miss a single second of the tongue-bath the two notorious villainesses were giving him.

Ivy popped his testicle out of her mouth with a quiet smack. She eased her head up, and Harley backed away, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I know what you want," Ivy whispered. She reached up and took firm hold of his knees, then took the head of his prick into her mouth.

Tim gasped with delight. He'd never had a blowjob before, so he couldn't judge just how skilled Ivy was, but this was every bit as good as he'd imagined, much more delightful than jacking himself off. Ivy sucked and nibbled at his head, moving it from one side of her mouth to the other with delicate precision. The warm, wet feeling was gentle, yet intense. He moaned in spite of himself and clenched his hands into fists.

Ivy began to vary her tempo, bobbing hard, then slow, then hard. Harley pulled herself to her feet. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she padded behind him. He heard her say "Red's real good with her mouth, huh? Believe me, I know." She giggled, and Tim shuddered as Ivy, to acknowledge the compliment, deepthroated him. For a few seconds, she plunged down his shaft, taking all of him in, then pulling back, all the way off. She caught her breath, then returned to her work, sucking away at the head of his cock. Suddenly, Tim lost sight of her, as Harley covered his eyes with her hands. "Guess who?" She pulled his head back, into her breasts. His head pillowed, she began stroking his chest, reaching out from behind him to rub and caress his nipples.

Tim couldn't hold back any more. He desperately wanted to, but he knew he was on the verge of orgasm. He stiffened. Ivy recognized the cue for what it was. In a flash, she pulled away and stood up, towering over him, arms on hips. The effect was strange: Ivy's stern expression and stance, mixed with heaving breasts and a sloppy, saliva-and-pre-cum-sticky face, left Tim unsure if he wanted to cower or worship.

"You want me to finish? Believe me, lover, there's nothing I want more than to take care of you, but first you have to take care of me. Give me that code."

Tim, in an agony of delayed fulfillment, tried to speak. "I can't do that," he managed after a moment. "Please..."

"No, my dear. No code, no love."

Tim grasped at straws. "Fine! Fine! It was, uh, it was..." He rattled of a string of random numbers and letters, the same length and structure as the one he had seen. Ivy stared at him for a moment, then knelt before him. She leaned over his swollen prick; but instead of taking it in, she reached up and flicked it with her fingers. Tim screamed in agony and need. Harley, who still cushioned his head with her breasts, laughed in delight.