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The boy was an absolute brat. Even after all these years - 15 years in fact. But that didn’t stop Bob from letting Bart suck him off in his apartment, clearly high on whatever substance he took before coming to his door, again, and losing himself in the high and pleasure of it all.

Not that Bob was complaining.
Holding the back of the young man’s head, he felt the spikey strands of dull blond hair between his fingers and enjoying the sensation of Bart's oral activity. The Boy may not have brains, but he does have a mouth on him.

 

If he was a better person, Bob would insist on Bart getting some kind of help - support for a drug rehabilitation program or at the very least find him the care the boy so urgently needed after years of abuse from his father that everyone seemed to be able to overlook all those years ago.
But Bob wasn’t a better person. Not only was he an ex-convict who had somehow finally been released from prison into a society that had no place for him - but he was one of the many adults that had, as Bart had so delicately put it; “fucked him up.” Of course having various murder attempts aimed at you throughout your childhood could potentially cause that kind of trauma.

Dangerously close to coming and ending his fun, Bob yanked Barts head back by his hair - who responded with a whine so pathetically desperate, as his mouth remained open wide and oh so willing to continue.

Tempting, but Bob had other plans.

“Why Bart - I thought you wanted to ride my cock? Hm? Isn’t that the reason why you came to my humble abode in the first place?”

Although he had removed his shirt and jeans earlier, Bart was still in his dark red boxer shorts, already tenting with a damp from leaking precum - but left untouched as Bart looked up at him wide eyed, waiting to be told what to do like a brainless sex-addled fool he was in this moment.
Bob smirked as he slowly released his tight grip on Bart's hair and gently stroked the back of his head instead like he was something precious. In response to his action the young man beneath his hand sighed happily and lean in to the touch he was almost as desperate for as his need to come. The boy was so touch starved and in need of affection that he was never going to receive from anyone else from as long as he lived this new self-destructive life, that even Bob’s ‘sweet’ touch was more than welcome.

 

Well, Bob was a performer at heart - and faking gentleness was as easy for him as breathing.

 

“Won’t you be a dear and prepare yourself Bart?”

 

Sitting back into the sofa, Bob watched Bart clumsily ripped off his underwear - and reached for the lube placed on the coffee table near him. Kneeling down on the floor Bart began to finger himself - looking up at Bob in lust as his past-attempted murderer lazily stroked his cock in front of him. As much as Bob still hated Bart, this was all too much fun for him.

 

He had no idea what made Bart crumble to become this mess of a person, but in all honesty he can’t say that he was too surprised. The boy was loved by his mother and sisters with a confidence that could have taken him in any other direction towards a better future, but instead was unemployed, shooting up whatever the hell he was purchasing and desperate to be fucked by a man who had wanted him dead throughout most of his young life.
The first time Bart had come to his door started with baffling confusion from Bob who was too old to deal with an unwanted part of his past, and ended with the drunken boy begging to be choked as Bob found himself buggering him over the very same sofa he was sitting on now.

 

It certainly was a mix up of activities between going to work at the one garage that would take him on as a mechanic to pay his bills, and expanding on his needlework hobby in the afternoon.

 

“Pleaseee...”

 

Bart slurring aroused him from his thoughts, as Bob lightly dragged his hand from cock to his thigh, patting it gently to signal Bart to come up on his lap. Scrambling up from the floor with as much grace as Bart Simpson himself can handle, the young man straddled himself and already getting ready for his desired penetration.

 

“In such a hurry, aren’t you you whore.”

 

Bart doesn’t say anything but his dick looked ready to blow at any moment; his ass swallowing Bob’s cock by every passing inch, almost prompting Bob to lose control once Bart started to roll his hips before going right onto fucking himself. Bob held onto his hips - digging his nails in as moaning cries sounded through the room.

 

“Such a filthy desperate boy, always coming here and begging to be taken like you even deserve it.”

 

The tears started falling and somehow that just made Bob trust harder up into Bart, despite not actually needing to do it - but the act of hurting Bart just twisted a dark lustful joy inside him. This was probably not healthy for the boy, but it wasn’t like it was Bob’s job to care for his well being. Bart was already whimpering his pleas as Bob scratched and dragged his fingers up from his hips, along his sides to the pair of dark nipples before him. He wished he had talons instead of nails so he could tear Bart apart and continue to fuck his corpse bathed in his blood. He told Bart this and the boy nearly came, had it not been for Bob’s tight grasp round Bart’s cock.

 

“Not yet Bart. Not yet.”

 

His hips continued to rock over onto Bob's cock as fresh tears fell from Bart's weeping eyes, as the blond became more and more desperate to come. Bob’s free hand was held by Bart, briefly giving Bob the image of Bart softly kissing his hand - but instead he guided it up to the already bruised neck as dark teary eyes stared into Bob’s own. No words were needed as Bob cupped his neck, a gentle and almost loving stroke of his thumb before he started to tighten his grasp. Bart still being so vocal while fucking with such as passion as his hand squeezed dangerously round Bart’s neck, eventually it was enough to make him come with such a force - leaving him breathless and a high of his own.

Bart had released himself onto Bob’s stomach before collapsing over Bob, both breathing heavily as Bart looked moments away from passing out.

 

They both end up curling up together on the sofa in complete nudity, sated and bathing in the after glow. Bart wrapped himself around him and was shortly dead to the world. Brushing his knuckles down Bart's exposed and scarred back, Bob thought about how easy it would be to kill him like this at Bart most vulnerable - to finally succeed at what he failed to do so many times all those years ago.
However, he knew he wouldn’t do it and Bart would be gone by the morning light as he disappeared before the next time he wanted Bob to ruin him all over again and again and again.