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Tim sighed, leaning heavily on his left hand as he continued to click and drag whole sections of files into the various folders he'd set up along the bottom of his screen. Of course they were all shortcuts to the actual locations of the folders, each one tucked away on various hard drives within their network, but it was just easier when he was reorganizing to section it out this way.

Three days ago Bruce had stopped by, chatted him up for a whole five minutes before dropping this incredibly dull project in his lap. Most people would have argued, would have told Bruce he could damn well reorganize the entire file structure of the Batcomputer himself, but it just wasn't in Tim's nature to argue with Bruce when it came to things like this. Bruce was an incredibly brilliant mind, he could have found a way to do this without taking up Tim's time, but Tim also wasn't stupid. He knew Bruce was getting him out of the way of something with the task. By keeping him busy doing this, he was keeping him off the streets, out of Gotham's night while he was in town, and Tim figured there was a damn reason for it.

While he normally would have nosed his way into whatever it was, he just didn't feel like it this time. Everyone needed a break sometimes and for once, he didn't feel bad taking it. It wasn't like he'd done anything for himself for what amounted to years and he'd be damned if he couldn't somehow turn reorganizing the entirety of their files into something a little less mundane.

As it was, he'd finally had time to listen to the four new albums he'd picked up months ago, blared them on his stereo as he'd set up the best file structure he could think of for them and written the code for the main dump of files. Now, he was simply cleaning up what couldn't be moved with a simple algorithm, which mostly amounted to Bruce's personal shit, some of Damian's earlier files, a hell of a lot of Dick's mess, and a few of his own files that he'd taken care of first. Jason's had all followed the most meticulous format he'd ever seen in his life and were so easy to move that he'd spent the needed five minutes sending him a damn thank you note along with the directory of the new file structures and where his files had gone.

While the code had been doing its job, he had spent his time editing their cross-referencing system, bringing it up to better specs - a project he felt was well deserving of his time off the streets, and testing it to ensure he hadn't messed anything up.

He finished up with Damian's files in what had to be record time, most of it just sloppy labeling that he corrected and ditched into the proper places - because seriously, what else could they have expected from a ten year old? Truthfully, there wasn't a file past Damian's second year with them that was out of place and Tim had to smile at that, knowing there were six more years of files that had been perfectly labeled, met the same standards as Jason's filing system, and if Damian hadn't been off on some undercover mission with the Teen Titans, he would have sent him the same sort of note he'd sent Jason.

Leaving Dick's files for later, he started into Bruce's files, sorting out the variety of verbal notes from eons before Tim had been involved, setting up one of his old programs to scan them for content, apply proper tags based on any villain, evidence tag that had already been used, words not recognized in the English language, and locations. He pulled mentions of any of their names or known names of their other associates, and then let the program decide if he needed to listen to it or if it could be neatly tucked into a folder and relabeled.

It was the videos that required special attention, most of them random news clips where the scrolls of text were just as important as the video feed itself. Bruce had labeled a lot of them with a time and date, which made it easy enough to slap a few tags on it, couple it with whatever files had been being worked at the time, and then shuffling them off into the correct folders; but there were at least three dozen that remained things he needed to watch in full.

The first two were just news clips where Joker had been mentioned, the third about Black Mask, another half dozen about the League and one of them even including an elusive shot of Damian before he'd come to them, a clip from somewhere in South America, and Tim was honestly impressed by the skill of such a tiny kid. He filed it away, careful to keep it a bit cryptic, though it was still labeled with Damian's name and the mentions of the League.

The next video gave Tim a bit of pause at the title alone. Maneuver 2C. It sounded like some kind of training and Tim debated it for a moment before hitting play. The screen came to life, black with light gray text telling him he had ten minutes to complete this maneuver, a suggested two minutes and thirty seven seconds for best use of time.

Tim shifted, drawing one leg up and leaning forward a bit, left arm draped around his leg, fingertips lightly tugging at the leg of his sweat pants.


Tim took a deep breath out of reflex, slowly letting it out.

Your time starts now.

The screen changed and Tim made a strangled little noise, his hand jerking out and slapping the space bar, pausing the video. Two men were on screen, one of them graying at the temples, the other probably in his late twenties, early thirties. The younger knelt in front of the older, both devoid of clothing, both very clearly aroused. It was incredibly obvious that Tim had stumbled into someone's hidden porn.

He swallowed back any amount of trepidation he had over that and opened the properties of the file, finding Bruce's login ID tagging it as the creator. Confusion laced through him even more at that. He'd half expected it to belong to Dick - knowing he was at least a little bit into guys, even though it wasn't his main attraction. Damn well knew it wasn’t his own, and he had pretty much come to realize that while Damian definitely had a thing for a couple of his friends, he was also not going to tell any of them anytime soon, which also meant he'd never ever risk someone finding anything he might use to masturbate to.

Bruce... that he hadn't expected at all. He'd known him most of his own life and not once had Bruce ever displayed any tendencies toward men. Women, sure. Hell, Tim had been around while Bruce had actually dated a few times, back in the day when he bothered to even do that much, which left him wondering just what this video was for. Had he been going undercover and needed to have a few maneuvers up his sleeve just in case? Had he been trying to see if he could get off to something that didn't actually arouse him to start with?

Tim reached back out and slowly hit the space bar again, watching the video start to play, his desire to know if anymore of the words were peppered throughout the video winning out over any discomfort he had in watching Bruce's unexplained video.

He watched the younger diligently suck off the older actor. It was a little sloppy, had the feeling of desperation that Tim honestly liked in his own porn choices, and the younger was definitely aroused by what he was doing, not even having to touch himself to keep his cock hard. At the exact mark of two minutes and thirty four seconds, the older began to cum, holding the younger down on his cock and at the two minute and thirty seven second mark, the younger pulled back and showed the cum on his tongue before swallowing it.

Tim shivered as the scene changed, the pair settled in a leather desk chair, the younger clinging to the older man as he settled down on his cock and began to ride him.

The entire set up was straight out of some of his own fantasies, things he knew he shouldn't have been thinking about, especially while watching Bruce's video.

Are you done yet? You should be. Stop watching.

Tim blinked, stared at the words as the scene faded back in to the younger man bouncing on the older's cock. A shiver of desire lanced through Tim at the angle, the way they seemed to trust one another so completely that they moved in unison. He heard the choked little cry of the younger, watched him muffle himself against the older's shoulder, and then he was frantically rutting against him, his cock rubbing against the older's belly until he was spurting.

If you're not done yet, you're wasting your time. Come on.

Tim glowered at the screen, at the words, and he almost reached out to move the video forward, but it faded back into the video. The older man had the younger leaning over the desk, had him in a bruisingly tight hold around the hips, was fucking into him like his life depended on it. Tim moaned, his hand drifting between his legs, settling against the base of his cock to hold himself as he watched them go at it.

He's going to cum. You'd better too. Last chance.

The words were so quick Tim wondered for an instant if he'd imagined them. About twenty seconds later, the older was groaning, shoving up hard inside the younger and clearly cumming. The camera panned down, showed everything up close and Tim could see everything throbbing, knew his cum was shooting up inside the younger from the lewd angle.

It took him a few seconds to realize he'd actively started jerking off while he stared at it. He didn't bother trying to stop himself, instead watching as the guy pulled out, spread the younger and told him to push his cum back out. He watched it run down over his taint, over the back of his sac, and then start to drip down onto the floor. The older ran his finger through it, pushed a single digit back up into his ass, and then pulled back out.

The screen flipped to black, more text appearing.

If you're not done, don't bother. Get back to work.

Tim stared at the words as they lingered on the screen until the video ended and the player minimized. He sat back, letting go of himself and chewing on his lip, pondering the exact reason why Bruce would have set this up and why he would have been torturing himself with all the words.

Slipping his sweats back into place, Tim shifted around and started pulling up access logs, curious as to when Bruce used the file. It took him a while to pull them all; the list was pretty long. By the time he got it all pulled up, he sat there staring at the exact access times. They were the same every week, nearly down to the minute. Twice a week, long after everyone else should have been asleep, and always from Bruce's personal computer in his room.

Tim flopped back in his chair, feeling like he'd just been sucker punched in the gut. Not only did Bruce have some absurd schedule for jerking off, he timed himself and had a video file specifically formatted to tell him he was wasting time and not doing it quickly enough if he didn't get off on the first part.

He closed the file and erased the last log of him accessing it, left it in the folder with the other files and fished out his phone. He sent off a quick text to Bruce telling him he still had some of his video files and most of Dick's stuff to index, but he needed a break from staring at the screen. It'd give Bruce time to move it, time to hide it away somewhere else if he cared if Tim saw it... and if he didn't, well that opened so many more doors that Tim knew he couldn't think about it right then.

Instead, he stood up, moved around the table, and gave a low whistle, listening as Titus lumbered toward him from across the room. He'd walk Damian's dog, clear his damn head, and maybe he'd figure out something more by the time he got back. After all, air was supposed to work wonders on the mind.


Tim honestly wasn't sure what possessed him to hang out around the manor more than usual other than some potentially misguided need to ensure everything was as it should be. His little project had been put on hold after that evening, moved to the back burner in favor of taking Damian's place for a few evenings at Bruce's side.

He'd missed it, if he were being honest. Flying around the city with Bruce was like living in a daydream, living in a world that had long-since passed them by. While he loved the freedom that being Red Robin enabled him, he also enjoyed the strict nature of being someone's partner. The forced interplay between two people who had to rely on one another in order to survive was something truly irreplaceable.

It surprised him to some degree that he still fit in with Bruce's way of working just as easily as he ever had. He didn't second guess himself, didn't find himself heading off after something that Bruce didn't. Their instincts were just that... theirs. Two parts of one well-oiled machine.

Three nights of cleaning up Gotham, their patrol hedging into Tim's territory as much as it did Bruce's and Damian's usual and Tim found himself awake at the most absurd hour given their routine. He'd blocked out the sunlight with the blackout curtains in his room, holed himself up with a warm cup of coffee, a nest of blankets, and his laptop in what had once been Dick's room, directly across the hall from Bruce's.

He hadn't really specified where he'd be staying, but Alfred had seemed to understand that while Tim's old room had been Damian's new one, he wouldn't want to intrude on Damian's personal space. No one except Alfred and Jason ever touched Jason's room, and that had pretty much left one option: Dick's old room.

Not that Tim minded. Really, it was cozy and the way that Dick had insisted they change it up after he'd gone left it the most relaxing place in the entire manor. Comforting chairs, a super soft bed with lots of covers and pillows, blackout curtains with the option of these gauzy blue numbers that were lovely during midday, the whole room a calming variety of shades. Dick was always bringing some new painting or trinket to put in the house, as if he were more trusting of them continuing to exist if he put them there instead of in his own home.

Tim shuffled around in the bedding, forced his mind to stop drifting off over the contents of the room and instead focused on reorganizing Dick's files, as painful as that was. How such a meticulous person could have created such a mess was utterly beyond Tim.

He'd been ignoring the little nagging thought in the back of his mind that told him Bruce's file was still there, had gone untouched on the usual day - the day Tim had been rooting through the files - and he knew today was the next day for it to be used. That was, if Bruce was going to even do such a thing while Tim was rooting around in the files. It was possible he was holding off until Tim was done with his project and, somehow, that distressed Tim. If this was the only thing holding Bruce's sexual side together, then God help him if he didn't do it.

A notification triggered that someone was accessing the files, their ID coming up on screen and he watched as Jason's ID uploaded three separate - and meticulously labeled - files into the proper folders and then signed back out. Tim couldn't help but smile at that, proud that he didn't seem to be having any issue navigating Tim's file structures.

Another notification popped up and one glance confirmed it was Bruce's ID. Tim sucked on his tongue lightly, watching and waiting for another notification. It came about a minute later, the name of the file very familiar, but the placement of it nowhere near where Tim had left it at. It was obvious Bruce had moved it somewhere else, tucked it away in the depths of a folder somewhere. Tim told himself he should forget about it now, should just ignore the desire to address everything with Bruce, to see why he forced the issue like that, to see why he'd hidden some part of his sexuality for so many years. But he couldn't find a way to do it gently or even eloquently, hadn't even managed to dream up the words he could use to tell him how he felt about it without coming across like a total nutjob or even a complete ass.

He sighed softly, going back to working on filing Dick's stuff, renaming a few files and then dragging them to the proper folders.

A strangled moan came from across the hall and then an almost frantic, "Shit!" Tim startled at the sound of Bruce's laptop slamming shut, a thud a second later, and Tim hurriedly closed out the program that tracked what was happening, went back to naming Dick's files, his heart thudding in his chest, certain he'd been caught monitoring everything.

He sat there for what felt like forever, renaming a dozen or so files before he finally shoved his laptop onto the dresser and plucked himself from the cocoon of blankets. He tugged on a hoodie and shoved a hand through his hair, trying to make himself at least somewhat presentable.

Opening the door, he listened for a moment, heard what sounded suspiciously like pacing from downstairs. He shuffled past Titus, pointed at the ground so the dog would stay, and then hurried down the stairs.

The study door was open, Bruce inside, pacing rapidly back and forth across the rug. Even when Tim leaned against the door frame, Bruce didn't seem to notice he was there, just kept frantically pacing. He'd get to one end, almost touch his desk and then jerk around, going all the way to the fireplace, one foot on the stone and then spin around and go right back the other direction.

Just watching him gave Tim heartache. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to calm his nerves as he assessed Bruce's current state of being.

Irritated. Scared. Definitely still aroused judging by the press of his cock against his sleep pants.

Anxiety tingled along Tim's arms as he watched him. The image of who Bruce really was beneath all his bravado, beneath the mask he wore every single day began to shine through as Tim watched the irritable way he clenched and unclenched his fists, the way the skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes, the pull of his lips down into the barest start of a frown. He was upset, there was no denying that.

Tim stepped into the room, closed the door behind him and leaned back against it – the click of the lock engaging – jerking Bruce's head toward him. He watched true fear lance across Bruce's face, found that it left him feeling distraught himself, his pulse skittering, his heart hammering in his chest. Seeing the strongest man he knew falling apart wasn't something Tim had been prepared for.

He took a shaky breath, finally got his words to work. "Tell me what's going on... please?"

Bruce stared at him long enough that Tim watched the walls go up inside him. He saw the iron starting to form and he managed the only plea he could think of.

"I know, okay? I know and it's okay. You don't have to hide it anymore. Not from me, not ever."

Conflict blossomed in Bruce's gaze before he turned away, headed right back toward the fireplace, blazing a trail in the carpet that Tim knew Alfred must have meticulously worked out day after day if Bruce did this often.

He watched Bruce slump against the shelving beside the fireplace, saw him hang his head and heard the wavering breath that came behind it. Tim forced his own feet to work, carrying him to Bruce's side, forced his hand out to rest against the middle of his back, starting to rub soothing circles there.

At first Bruce tensed up, almost shook beneath Tim's touch, and Tim almost wanted to pull away, to make it stop hurting him. It took him a minute to realize the slight tremor was actually from how hard Bruce was gripping the shelf he was hanging onto. He didn't really know what to say, hadn't thought this out any further than coming after Bruce, trying to make him understand it was okay to find pleasure, trying to figure out why he thought it wasn't.

When he opened his mouth, the most ridiculous thing left him instead of a million useful things he could have said. "Do you really think I'm going to judge you for a little guy on guy action? I mean it's not like I don't own ninety of those videos."

He heard the strangled little choke Bruce let out and instantly winced. "I'm sorry, I..." he tipped his head back, stared up at the ceiling and prayed for the strength to do this right. "I'm not good at this. I don't even know where to start. I just know we need to talk. You and me. No one else. No one else ever has to know a thing and that's perfectly fine."

"I was careless." Bruce's voice cut him off, all rough edges and obvious distress. "Should not have ever left it where you could find it."

Pain lanced through Tim's body, the ache palpable. "Bru-"

"No matter. It has been removed." Bruce stepped away from Tim, around him, starting back toward the desk again. "I had thought to keep it, to simply move it, and then I realized there was no way you had not already looked through the files, had not already discovered it. I deeply apologize for any discomfort you had to endure in seeing that. It will never happen again."

Tim stood there, speechless for far longer than he liked. He knew his face was contorted in what he could only call agony and when he started to talk, he knew he wasn't going to stop.

"Bruce, please listen to me. I need you to because I honestly think no one has ever told you any of this and that really makes me worry." He started after him, got about halfway before he reached out and put his hand on the armchair, standing right in Bruce's path so he couldn't leave or go back to pacing without having to move Tim. "You're allowed to watch things like that, just like the rest of the damn world. It's not some dirty shameful secret that you want to watch a dirty video. I wasn't being a jerk. I really do have like ninety videos in that same exact genre."

He watched the play of emotions on Bruce's usually passive face before he managed to school it in, instead took up glowering at the corner of the chair Tim currently held onto.

Tim sighed softly. "Look... mostly I'm just worried about the text." Bruce's head snapped up and Tim held up his hand. "Hear me out. Like... it's okay if you just get off on that sort of thing. A soft humiliation kink is actually pretty popular, so you know, if that's the deal, then great. But... I just feel like it's not and that," he shook his head, trying to catch Bruce's gaze, "really worries me. So is it just a kink or are you forcing yourself to be done in a certain period of time?"

Bruce's jaw set harshly, his teeth clenching, and he went back to staring at the chair. It was Bruce's lack of true fight that disturbed him the most, if Tim were being honest with himself. The fact that he wasn't denying anything, wasn't demanding Tim leave like some petulant child, none of it was like Bruce's usual and it left Tim with a strange feeling in his gut. A feeling he knew he had to rectify before he ever left this room.

"I know this isn't my place - trust me, I know - but someone has to say it and I'll be damned if I'm going to walk away from it just because it makes things awkward between us if I do." He moved to the chair, sat down on the edge of it and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. "You're allowed to have pleasure. You're allowed to use pornographic images or videos to get off. You're allowed to use anything that gives you pleasure without being ashamed be it thoughts, your own hands, or any object you desire to use. Most importantly, you don't have to hide the fact that you like men. It's not something to be ashamed of."

He was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in before offering up one more thing. "I'd think with a house full of young men who almost all ended up liking boys to some degree, you'd get the impression it was allowed." He gave Bruce a small smile, trying to show him he was ribbing him just the slightest; instead, he saw alarm on Bruce's face, saw the hints of fear again, and it struck him instantly what he thought was happening.

"Oh my God, Bruce, no. You have to know you had nothing to do with that, right? I mean, Dick had a boy in his life before he ever met you. I've been into guys since I can remember my very first romantic thoughts. What you're thinking, it's not how things work!"

Bruce's hands clenched at his sides and then he was sinking back onto his desk, sitting on the edge of it and looking so dejected that Tim's heart physically hurt for him.

Pushing himself up, Tim moved to stand in front of Bruce, reached for his hands though he gave him more than enough time to reject it if he wanted. When he didn't, he laced their fingers together, pressed one thigh between Bruce's knees until he opened them to let Tim stand between his legs.

He watched then, watched the way Bruce's breathing changed, the way he had to tense his thighs to stop his hips from arching, and then the swell of his cock starting to tent out his pants again.

Letting go of Bruce's hands, he reached up, let his hands trail down over his shoulders, across his chest, palms rubbing over his nipples. The idea that he knew exactly why Bruce was so distraught over that video swelled within him, grew until he was starting to become aroused himself. He shifted forward just enough that his thigh pressed against Bruce's arousal, causing him to gasp, and Tim almost moaned at just how hard he was.

Without a word, Tim slid to his knees, his hands trailing down Bruce's chest, over his abdomen, and then down to palm his arousal, giving it a good squeeze, earning a broken moan from Bruce for his efforts.

Tim let go only long enough to move the material of Bruce's sleep pants out of his way, easing it down under his balls, cupping them in his hand as he leaned in and dragged his tongue up the underside of Bruce's cock.

Bruce nearly whined and Tim felt - for perhaps the first time sexually - like he was the most powerful person in the room. Lapping over the head, he swirled his tongue around the tightness of Bruce's foreskin and then wrapped his free hand around the base, slowly starting to stroke him, easing his mouth down over the head and most of the shaft.

Bruce's hand came to rest on the back of Tim's neck, just the weight of it, absolutely no resistance in it when he pulled back up, and Tim lamented that for a moment, imagined teaching Bruce he could love this - love himself - to the point where he would be willing to hold Tim down on his cock as long as he wanted. Tim moaned and Bruce stifled a little cry of pleasure. Tim watched as Bruce nearly shoved his fist in his mouth trying not to make any sounds and he redoubled his efforts, wanting to draw out every single sound Bruce Wayne could possibly make for him. He heard a strangled grunt and then Bruce was gasping, his hand fumbling against Tim's shirt as if he couldn't decide if he was going to pull him off of him or not, and his breath hitched.


His name sounded alarmed coming off Bruce's tongue and Tim knew it was a warning, knew Bruce was too used to cumming quick when it came to men, that he wasn't going to last.

Tim pushed himself down on Bruce's cock, letting the image of the older man in the video cumming in the younger's mouth wash over him as he peered up at Bruce, did his best to look incredibly innocent, and then Bruce's hips were jerking and he was cumming, every half-strangled noise in the book falling from his lips as he started to empty himself down Tim's throat.

Tim pulled up so he could get it right across his tongue, held it in his mouth until Bruce was panting, until he was starting to look like he thought he'd done something horrible, and then Tim pulled off, opened his mouth and showed Bruce his own cum.

The war began on Bruce's face, the arousal at seeing his own cum in Tim's mouth, the pleasure of what he'd just done, and the inherent thou shalt not that Tim knew was firmly lodged in him vying for top attention.

Tim easily pushed himself off the floor, crowded Bruce against the desk as he swallowed down Bruce's cum and wiped a hand over his mouth. He slid his hand over Bruce's forearm to his wrist, urging his hand up and then to his own aching cock, curling Bruce's fingers around himself and pushing himself against his palm with a soft sigh of pleasure. "Bruce... please. Want you so bad."

Their eyes met and held, Bruce studying him until he found whatever it was he was looking for, seemed to calm down quite a bit, and then he was reaching into Tim's pants, wrapping his hand around Tim's cock and starting to stroke.

Bucking his hips forward, Tim moaned, reached to grab Bruce's shoulders and held on as he started to thrust into Bruce's touch. "I can't lie," he whispered, a dirty little smirk on his lips, "I've thought of this before. Of us."

Leaning in, Tim pressed his lips to Bruce's cheek, whispered his fantasies to him as Bruce stroked him. "I used to touch myself thinking of Batman. I mean... I know I should have been thinking of Robin, but..." he huffed out a tiny little laugh, "I've always worked above my pay grade."

Bruce's breath hitched and Tim rolled his hips, rocking until Bruce picked up the pace a bit. "Then once I knew you, I thought about this. About you touching me right here, right in your study. Your hand down my pants, mine in yours... your cock definitely somewhere other than my mouth by the time I'd finish."

Tim didn't expect it, but he melted into it when Bruce surged forward, caught him in a hard kiss, starting to stroke him somewhat frantically. He moaned into the kiss, loving how much faster this was than before, enjoying the barest hints of roughness that came with it. Tim moaned, heard Bruce moaning with him, and then realized - belatedly - that Bruce was jerking himself off too.

Tim dipped his hand down, cupped and rolled Bruce's sac in his palm, groaned into their kiss when Bruce let out a cry he couldn't muffle, and Tim whispered, "Yes," against his lips. His hips began to work against Bruce's hand, his balls tightening as he ramped up faster than he'd thought he would. His stomach quivered and his thighs started to burn, and then he was jerking his hips harshly against Bruce's fist, spurting his cum all over Bruce's sleep pants as he cried out louder than he'd meant to. Bruce came a moment later, a loud grunt and then a few gasping moans filling the room as he came over both of their hands. It was thick and warm and Tim reveled in having Bruce Wayne's cum all over his hand, smiled into the kiss until he couldn't stand it anymore. He nipped Bruce's lower lip and then pressed their foreheads against one another as he sighed pleasantly.

"Any day, any time you want this... find me. Seriously."

He could almost feel Bruce's embarrassment radiating off of him. Some part of Tim wondered how on earth Bruce ever got through sex with any of the women he'd been with, marveled at the idea that perhaps he'd been the first sober lay Bruce had ever had, and it made him want to jump his bones even more.

He pressed a kiss to his lips and then stepped back, hitching up his pants and meandering over to the box of tissues on the table next to the chair he'd taken up residence in earlier. Plucking a few out, he put on his best bedroom eyes and turned them on Bruce as he cleaned his hand. "Next time... fuck me."

For a moment he swore Bruce was going to have a heart attack and then he thought perhaps he was just cumming in his pants again at the mere idea of it. The thought made his lips twitch and then he was full-on grinning at him. "Ya know... anything you want Bruce. Far be it for the guy who watches animated tentacle porn to kink shame you for anything. So seriously, just name it and I'll do it."

He watched Bruce flounder for a moment, finally decided to just let him be with that in mind, and then turned and headed back the way he'd come. He paused at the door, tilted his head, and then offered up, "I'll be in your bedroom. If you'd join me, I think it might be pleasant to sleep a few more hours, don't you?"

There was no response, but Tim hadn't really expected one. He started for the stairs, heard the quietest, "Bruce... what have you gotten yourself into?" And couldn't help but grin to himself all the way up the stairs.

What had he gotten into indeed.

Chapter Text

It took a few weeks, but Tim eventually found the video that Bruce had been using online. Full and uncut, none of Bruce's horrible messages to himself inside it. He watched it twice before daring to leave it burned to disk right on top of Bruce's laptop in his bedroom, a neatly labeled Maneuver 5A. A little sticky on it declared it to be Robin's version as Tim hadn't quite had enough balls to label a CD that would be out of the cave with Robin.

He gave it a full week before he checked the bedroom again, finding the disk in the laptop's CD bay and he'd have been lying if he said that didn't make him instantly more aroused than he had any right to be.

Nearly a month slid past without Bruce making a single move on him and Tim privately deemed it some sort of miracle that nothing seemed to have changed between them when they worked together. Bruce didn't hedge around things and there was no awkward pining looks, nothing that Bruce held back when they were talking about cases or even when they were at family dinner two weeks to the day after their little tryst. What did bother him was that he wanted Bruce to come to him and he just wasn't.

It took him a few days to work up to it and when he finally did, it was only because he was so horny he thought he was going to go insane if he didn't get another taste of Bruce's cock.

Maybe that was wrong. Perhaps there was something horribly misguided in the fact that every time he played the damn video for himself all he could think of was being fully suited up and settling himself in Bruce's lap, pants down to his thighs, Bruce's cock sliding up inside him, of restrained grunts and Bruce's hands tightening on the chair's arms as Tim rode him in desperate abandon. And yet... it didn't stop him from imagining it and certainly didn't stop him from sighing Bruce's name every time he came to the image of it.

It took balls of steel for him to bring another CD with him to the cave and even more for him to lean over and pop it in without seeming to have a care in the world. He could feel Bruce watching him, knew he held a certain amount of confusion that Tim wasn't talking to him, had arrived unannounced, and was now shoving a CD into the Batcomputer's disk drive.

The disk auto-played and Tim leaned his hip against the metal desk, his arms lightly crossed over his suit, his eyes on Bruce's face as one of his own favorite videos started up on the big screen behind him. He watched the frantic play of arousal and repression duke it out on Bruce's face, saw the way he kept trying to shut down only to be so incredibly turned on a second later that he couldn't quite close it all out.

Less than a minute later Bruce's cock was straining the front of his suit and Tim was thankful he hadn't put his full armor on just yet, only his jock in the way, not a plate that would have been nearly excruciating with Bruce's current state. Flicking his own cape over his shoulder, Tim pushed away from the desk and smoothly slid onto Bruce's lap, straddling him and letting his cape hide their exact actions from the outside world. His hands rested on Bruce's thighs, gripping tightly as they stared each other down.

"You haven't come back to me..."

"I shouldn't." The words were strained, barbed personally toward Bruce himself.

"You know that's bullshit just as much as I do." Tim slid his hands higher, brought them nearly to touching Bruce's straining erection, felt the surge of lust in himself over it. "I thought I made it pretty damn clear I wanted you, but in case you somehow missed the giant-ass memo... I want to have sex with you." He leaned in, nearly letting their lips touch, whispering out, "Desperately."

Bruce groaned and Tim gasped as Bruce's control snapped. He swore he could almost hear it break in the second before his lips were being claimed, the force of Bruce's kiss bruising. Their hips met a second later and Bruce's hips began to wildly grind up against Tim's own.

Tim shivered, sliding his lips off of Bruce's, slicking them down over the faint hint of his stubble and then to mouth at his jawline, jerking his hips against Bruce's own as he panted. "Want you in me." He nipped at Bruce's neck and shuddered hard. "Already prepped myself for you... all you have to do is put it in me." He knew how he sounded, knew it was just as pleading and desperate as he understood he probably shouldn't have been, but rationality and Tim Drake weren't friends most of the time. Not anymore. Not in a long time.

Bruce's hands were everywhere, pushing and tugging at Tim's costume, frantically trying to get his own suit undone, and Tim understood instantly that this was Bruce coming undone. It was him giving in, capitulating to his own needs, and Bruce simply had no idea how to deal with that on a personal basis.

Tim smoothly unfastened Bruce's front panel and freed his cock, giving it a few good strokes before lifting himself up and yanking his pants down under the swell of his ass. Positioning himself, he rested with the tip of Bruce's cock right against his asshole and went back to mouthing at Bruce's neck and jaw, patient now that he was so close to what he wanted.

Above him, Bruce labored for his every breath, gasped for air that should have been so simple to fill his lungs, until finally he drove himself deep into Tim's hole with a pained sort of cry and Tim understood that, too.

Giving in hurt sometimes.

They stilled, only the sound of their breath on the air, the throb of Bruce's cock in Tim's ass, and the strain of his own erection against his belly making Tim tremble. He clenched around him and Bruce gave a startled shout before grabbing Tim's hips and starting to fuck up into him with barely restrained desperation.

On screen someone moaned and Tim knew that meant the bottom was seconds away from shooting off from the other guy's cock alone. He held his breath, waiting on the strangled cry and when it came, Bruce grew even more excited, humping up into Tim's body vigorously.

His hands clenched on Tim's hips and it didn't really surprise him when Bruce's hips canted just so and the cut-off moan came as a half-second warning to Bruce starting to shoot his load right up inside Tim's body. He clenched around him, slowly rode him through it until Bruce was gasping, shaking from the pleasure-pain of continuing after his orgasm, and Tim hid his grin away in Bruce's shoulder, somehow incredibly turned on by the fact that he'd shot off so fast.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew why - the video giving all the evidence needed for that - or perhaps it was just that the mere idea of the infallible Bruce Wayne was a premature ejaculator was incredibly arousing. Either way it had Tim stringing precum between them and his balls tight up against his body, nearly ready for his own release.

Foggy with need, his world swirling around in sweat-drenched lust, Tim opened his mouth and the most forward thing he'd ever said left him without a single ounce of preamble. "Ever wondered what it'd be like to lick your own cum out of someone's ass?" His cheeks flushed and he let his breath hitch before letting out a breathy laugh. "I've always wanted to ask someone to cum in me so they could. Never been with anyone I could trust enough to let them do it inside me though... not until now."

It should have surprised him to end up shoved over the desk, probably should have been somehow shocking to have his thighs spread and his ass cheeks held in Bruce's hands and that sinful mouth right over his hole, but it didn't. Bruce was eager, horny damn near to a fault with having held back so much for so long, and Tim knew he'd probably do anything Tim wanted him to.

His fist slammed into the desk as he went up on his tiptoes, his body shuddering hard at the way Bruce's tongue delved eagerly inside him, cleaned him out of all his own cum, and God it shouldn't have been so hot to know Bruce was eating his own cum from Tim's asshole, but fuck if it wasn't. He pressed back toward him, knew he had to be cutting off Bruce's air supply, but it didn't make him any less diligent.

Tim's cock strained and he panted, huffing excitedly as he tried to push back even more, on edge, needing the last little bit until he shook with it, until his eyes were screwed shut and he was actively whining as he scrabbled at the desk, too aroused to think straight.

Bruce's mouth left him and Tim only managed to choke out, "Please!," before Bruce's cock was filing him again, taking him hard and quick, and Tim swore he was fading out of consciousness from the sheer beauty of being that desirable to Bruce that he'd go for him twice in one sitting. His belly quivered and his cock strained, and then Bruce's hand cupped the head of his dick and Tim nearly sobbed as he shot off all over Bruce's fingers.

Behind him, Bruce humped against him like a madman, animalistic in the way he went after him until he was shouting, straining against Tim and filling him up a second time, and it was all Tim could do not to scream in absolute pleasure, feeling every throb of Bruce's cock, every twitch of his muscles, and knowing he was the cause of two of Bruce's orgasms today.

Panting, they remained that way, Bruce buried up inside him and Tim hanging over the desk floating somewhere on cloud nine until Bruce softened and slid out of him, cum slipping out right behind him, dripping down all over the floor and Tim's pants.

Tim gave Bruce a moment to look at him before he turned and neatly pulled his pants back up, pushing Bruce back into his chair and crawling up to straddle him, his cape settling to cover them once more. He rested his head against Bruce's shoulder and curled his arms around him, giving in to the other part of his fantasies, hoping somehow it might keep Bruce glued together.

"That was amazing."

He heard Bruce swallow and he heard the strain in his voice when he offered a quiet, "I should not want you the way I do."

"Because I'm a guy or because I used to be your Robin?" Tim closed his eyes, burrowing closer, not at all wanting to put up with Bruce's self-hatred shit right then. He'd shut it down as many times as he had to.

"Because I took you in, because I helped raise you and it's wrong to look at you like this."

"I thought I was pretty clear about my fantasies last time. The only two people who matter in all of this are you and me. Not the world and not some stuck-up prick who decides they think they know what's better for us than we do."

Bruce was quiet for a long time and when he finally sighed, Tim knew it was the sigh of a man giving in. Maybe not forever but at least for now and he could live with that.