BruceTim for my darling Proooo
Title: Yet Another Night
Author: Piyo Editor of great importance: Dwight
Warnings: NSFW, TW: Dub-con
Word Count: 2001
“Tim, come here,” the voice was calm, but demanding. It held authority over the small relatively inexperienced teenager. He wasn’t in a position to refuse.
“Yes, Batman?” Robin stood a few feet away from his mentor, just out of his range. That night had been a rough one; both Joker and Two-Face had been at work, and the masked heroes had both dealt with close calls while fighting. After finally arriving back at the bat cave, all Tim wanted to do was change out of his suit and slip into bed, but that wouldn’t happen.
They had already stored away their belts full of gadgets. “Come help me get the rest of this off,” Batman commanded the boy, and Robin did as he was told. He first grabbed Batman’s hands and rolled the gloves away. He moved slowly, carefully. He knew what it meant when they had a bad night and Bruce asked for help getting his gear off. And Tim didn’t want it.
As soon as the gloves were off, Tim backed away from Batman and put the items away. The teen stood for a moment, staring at the storage place, just wishing he could lock himself away like he did the clothes. But he couldn’t. A sigh escaped his mouth before he turned and walked back towards the shaded man seated in a solitary chair.
He didn’t want to look into those eyes, both cold and caring. Robin knelt on the floor and began to remove the older man’s boots. His boots were simple, too simple. If they had more straps, more clutches, more snags; he could hold out longer. But they were simple and came off easily. Once more Tim took his time returning the raiment to its proper place. The next item to remove would bring him closer to his mentor, and it would force him one step closer to a fate he wished to avoid.
He turned and lumbered towards Batman, but before he could remove the masked crusader’s cape, he was given a new order, “Stop. Remove your gloves, cape, and boots.” It was a command, and the boy knew he must do as he was told if he wished to continue acting as a symbol for the city. And Gotham needed Robin as much as it needed Batman.
As each piece of his suit fell away, the youth felt exposed and on display. He wasn’t like his predecessors. He wasn’t like Dick who had entered a relationship with Bruce based upon admiration which had evolved. He wasn’t like Jason who had wanted to live up to everything the first Robin had been, but was refused. He wasn’t himself either. He had lost that the first time. He was Robin, and that was what he had to remember. It was a mantle he had to keep up for everyone’s sake, lest Batman go mad and act foolishly.
He put his own costume away, piece by piece. He was grateful Batman had not asked him to remove his mask. With his mask he could call this a responsibility. But if he removed his mask, he would be Tim again. Tim: the inexperienced boy who didn’t know when to stay out of things. It was always worse as ‘Tim’.
After the agonizingly slow act of returning his clothes to their respectful places, Robin meandered towards his mentor once more. He leaned forward while keeping as much of his body as possible away from the leers of the seated hero. The short walk to the storage unit did not give him nearly enough time to calm his thoughts. He knew what would come after removing the cowl. With the cowl gone, Batman would become Bruce, and the commands would become domination.
Still, the boy had been given an order, and he would act according to his mentor’s will. Robin lifted the Kevlar guarding the billionaire’s identity from his body and moved quickly away. He pretended to struggle with putting the cowl in its rightful plinth, hoping to buy himself some time before he would have to face the man. But he would have to face Bruce. Bruce was the reason for Batman, and Gotham needed Batman. As Robin, it was his duty, his responsibility, to ensure that Batman continued protecting the city bathed in darkness; he would do what he had to.
The only thing left to remove from Bruce was the suit, the only thing keeping Tim safe. Tim never ended up removing the suit himself, the man was always far too impatient for that.
“You’re not finished, Tim,” Bruce’s voice startled Tim out of his reverie. Past experience told him that he should be done, that anything else to come would be out of his control. He walked to Bruce as requested. Tim stood a small ways away, far enough that he could have personal space, but a he soon found out not far enough. Bruce leaned forward slightly, grabbed his partner’s hand, and guided Robin closer until the boy had to step between the man’s legs. His eyes grazed over Tim’s slender body with all the rapt attention of a badger stalking a snake.
Tim didn’t look at him, he kept his eyes down and hoped that Bruce would just tell him to go and sleep well. But he knew after all the times he’d been in this situation that would not happen. The teen shivered as a hand stroked down his back past his butt and held his thigh. Bruce pulled Tim’s leg up and onto his lap. Robin didn’t struggle. Robin didn’t fight this crime—that was what it was after all. He had figured that out long ago, but one doubt remained; how could it be a crime when he let it happen?
The minor felt a hand on his cheek, and his only way to hide himself from this event was stripped from him. Bruce tossed the mask to the floor and tilted the youngster’s head until they were looking into each other’s eyes. There was no fear in either set. One had eyes full of need and wonder; the other’s held nothing but submission and obligation.
Tim placed his hand against Bruce’s arm, hinting at his pleading for Bruce to release his face, but the Bat interpreted the gesture as a sign he wanted this. Bruce slid his hand behind Tim’s neck and guided the boy’s head forward gently. As their lips met, Bruce shut his eyes in contentment as Tim’s remained half-lidded, robotic stare.
Tim’s hand clenched Bruce’s arm and his eyes screwed shut as the man nipped at his bottom lip. The mentor sucked and pulled as his right hand glided to his sidekick’s appealing ass and groped roughly. Tim whimpered. Bruce slid his tongue between the boy’s bruised lips before being halted by clenched teeth. Bruce moved his hand from Tim’s neck and pried the boy’s mouth open like a snake about to be milked. Bruce’s tongue slinked into the unmoving boy’s mouth and claimed it for his own. Tim’s breath hitched as a hand slid under the top-piece of his uniform.
“No.” It slipped from the boy’s mouth, but Bruce heard nothing more than his own heartbeat as he moved to kiss and claim more of his partner. Bruce bit and sucked at what was exposed of the teen’s collarbone as he rolled the shirt up the boy’s abdomen. When Tim didn’t move to lift his arms, Bruce changed his focus and placed open-mouthed kisses down the quivering muscles before him. Tim’s grip moved to Bruce’s shoulders and pushed slightly.
Bruce’s impatience showed as he pried Tim’s hands from his shoulders and chucked his gray, symbolic shirt to the floor. Before the boy could move, Bruce pulled his red top off and threw it near his previously discarded garb. The Bat’s lips returned to fondling the teen’s torso.
He moved downward until he progressed to Tim’s bellybutton and licked in. Tim’s hands held the back of the chair, leaning over Bruce. Large fingers with rough skin pushed under combat-ready briefs and tights and slid down towards the young man’s butt. Lips halted and Bruce looked up towards a face with sealed shut eyes and lips clenched between teeth.
“We don’t have any lubricant.”
“It’s fine, we don’t have to…” Tim’s voice wavered off as Bruce’s eyes, slightly brighter than before, pierced his own now open orbs.
“Just let me know if it starts to hurt.” Bruce began to tug the teen’s pants towards his knees as Tim finished his interrupted sentence in his thoughts, ‘…have sex tonight.”
Bruce kicked both of their clothing piles across the floor away from them. He let his fingers graze Tim’s buttocks and pulled at his hips until he was forced to completely straddle his mentor. Tim looked down towards Bruce and saw his adoptive father’s penis hard and ready before he felt fingers stroke his own. He gripped the chair back and dug his nails into the material as his breath picked up speed. Tim gasped as the sickening pleasure shot from his groin through his body.
Bruce nipped at the slender boy’s jawline and continued his ministrations until blood rushed to the appendage. Tim’s face became inflamed in the heat of passion and hesitation. The elder bat pulled the boy downwards until their dicks were touching, and began to stroke them together. Tim jolted at the sensation and his eyes shut and brow wrinkled once more.
His eyes peeked past lids when he felt a slender appendage pressed against his mouth, and his lips were parted by almost unnoticeably trembling fingers. They wriggled within his mouth, becoming drenched with his saliva. The intruding hand left the stretched mouth and moved lower before fondling the boy’s balls, trailing a strand of saliva in its wake. Rough skin skimmed back over sensitive skin to press at the slender hero’s rim. Soaked in saliva, a single robust digit pushed its way into the tense hole.
Without hesitation, Bruce’s finger began to circle and stretch stressed muscles as he continued to stroke both dicks with his other hand. He laid bites and kisses down into the sinews of his sidekick’s neck. When the young man began to relax and his muscles loosened slightly, Bruce pressed another finger into his hole.
He wasn’t ready. Tim’s eyes moistened, but no tears fell. Inside him fingers began to scissor and stretch, causing something to jump and fall once more in his stomach. The pressure inside of him left and the strokes of pleasure were halted. Bruce held his hips and guided him upward and closer. Bruce centered Tim’s hole above his erection and pulled him down, entering roughly.
Tim didn’t yell. The motions tore at his delicate flesh. Small droplets of red would be found when he went to his room to clean himself, but he didn’t make a sound. He did not wish to involve Alfred in this sordid affair. It had been a long time since he let himself cry out from something like this; a long time since Bruce took him for the first time.
Bruce directed the boy by his hands on his hips till the two were barely connected then brought him back down sharply. He repeated the motions like a mantra for survival. Tim’s legs worked to lift himself and reconnect in coordination with Bruce’s control.
Both heroes’ vision began to brighten at the edges and their view of the cave housing their sexual encounter quaked. Neither would last much longer. Tim knew this wouldn’t be the last time he was put into this situation. This time of lust mixed with disgust. There were so many times that Bruce had called to him, or motioned him into action in the past that the future was easy to predict.
But he wouldn’t resist.
No matter how much he didn’t want sex, he never resisted Bruce. Never fought back. Because quite frankly, it was the only way he could get off anymore.