Characters: Tim, Barbara
Prompt: #4, Ego/Id
Word Count: About 350
Warnings: PG18 for *handwaves vaguely* let's say sex stuff.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: This is the Tim alien sex pollen story I've *always* wanted to write. I think that should count as a warning *g*.
"...and I can only assume that was how I was exposed to the Tamarian psychoactive substance."
"You mean the alien sex pollen." One of the things about Oracle's mastery of Internet lore, true or not, is that she uses it with the same precision that she uses all other kinds of information, or, for that matter, all weapons. As if there were any difference.
Tim's focus wavers slightly. He hopes he's not... He hopes Oracle will misread it as either embarrassment or a deepening of his already worsening condition.
"Yes," he says. It feels like begging.
"So I have to assume that your libidinal impulses are currently outside conscious control." Oracle's tone is merely probing.
She has to know that it isn't helping. The fact that her defense systems would be quite up to the task of containing him, should she chose to, as well as the fact that she probably wouldn't need them... they aren't helping, either.
At this point, it's not a matter of maintaining cover or even self-control. The question is merely if he can negotiate this in a way that will minimize the repercussions.
It's not that he cares, right now, about the aftermath. He just knows that he usually would, and...
This negotiation isn't, actually, something he has to fight the alien substance about. He suspects that's something he will have to analyze in some putative future when he isn't technically insane with lust.
"Yes," he says, although he has all but forgotten the question.
"And you are here, of all the places you could be?"
"And you want this, Tim, of all the things you could want?"
"Yes." Not repeating it is a triumph. Not shuddering when she pronounced his name would have been one, too.
Babs' smile is the most dangerous thing he has seen in a week. "I'm almost offended, Boy Wonder."
His own smile is... he shouldn't smile like this. Not to her, not to... "But you understand."
"Oh, yes," she says, and save for the infinite minutiae of control, her smile matches Tim's. "I guess I do."
She unlocks the video feed codenamed Grayson-cam.
Tim hopes he can retain at least a modicum of control until she leaves the room. Assuming she will.
It's a fairly probable hypothesis, after all, that Oracle likes to watch.
Another fact that doesn't help. At all.
ETA: I pity the fandoms without alien sex pollen. Prompt #5: Multiple Personality. Wee.