Fic: Opportunity (Bruce)
Batfic: Opportunity (Bruce)
Pairing: Bruce/Tim, Batman/Robin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex Pollen, Graphic Sex
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, not making any money off them.
Summery: When Batman returns to the cave suffering from a does of Poison Ivy’s sex pollen, Tim is the only one who can help.
What had gone wrong? Everything. Such is life.
I was able to evacuate the civilians, and Ivy should be in custody by now. I made sure she’d stay put until Jim and his people arrived. He’s smart, he knows to have his men treat her as the bio-hazard she is. My suit is almost as good as a government issue hazmat one. Better. Add on a face mask and I’m all set. Nothing to difficult, just another night in Gotham.
Expect that one of her pollen zombies got lucky and ripped the mask off. I, of course, dosed myself with the anti-toxin and finished my job. However by the time I was ready to go, I could feel the vague sense of wrongness. I can think, reason, but it’s like my thoughts are thick molasses. It takes effort to make anything work.
No, not anything, just some things. Other things come to me naturally and I find myself acting on them without conscious thought. And then there are the….ideas. They aren’t hallucinations. They are just there, at the back of my mind, goading me. Suggesting things. Obscene things, with someone who is totally off limits.
I found myself driving back to the cave without any memory of making my way back to the batmobile in the first place. Then I’m in the cave and I can’t get out of the car fast enough because I need to find him. I know he’s here, this is where I left him, where he has to be doing the task I set him. After all the mistrust, all the let downs, all the pain, he’s still a good soldier. I must have done something right somewhere along the way that he’s still here. And right now I’m very thankful for whatever it is. I need him. He’s the only one that can help me.
No! He’s too young!
There, in the chair before the computer. The back is high enough to hide him totally from view, but he heard the car and swivels around to face me. I know he’s talking to me, I can see his lips moving. If I can just focus a little more I could read his lips. Why is it so damn hard to focus?
My feet carry me closer without consulting my brain and then I’m leaning over him, hands clamped on the arms of the chair. He’s puzzled, then concerned. No, not for himself. Run Tim, please run. Don’t let me do this.
Yes, please run. I’ll chase you. I’ll catch you and then it will be all the sweeter when I take you.
No!
I will not do this! I am stronger then this.
Forcing my mouth to work, I try desperately to tell him what happened. I don’t think I’m actually saying anything, I can’t hear words coming from my lips, but I have to tell him. His blue eyes focus on my lips. Good boy. I can see it when he figures out what’s being said. His eyes widen. There is a moment of panicked realization then his cool mind reasserts control. I can actually hear his words.
“Did you use the anti-toxin?” he wants to know, his eyes narrowing in thought. I nod. At least I think I do. I’m not sure if the abrupt movement I make with my chin can be called any such thing. I’m not sure of anything expect how very close his lips are to mine. They’re not nearly close enough.
I watch the thoughts flicker across his face, then he averts his eyes and gives his head a shake. That isn’t what I want. I need him to look at me, to see me. No, please don’t see me, not like this.
My hand reaches out to grasp his jaw and turn him back towards me. I’m kissing him. Hard, demanding. Brutal. Run, Tim. Get away, far away. Please.
He doesn’t run. The teenager is startled, yes, but he parts his lips before my tongue, allowing me entrance. My blood is singing in my veins. He is everything I want, everything I must have and so much more. I’ve watched him grow from an intuitive and lively child into a fine young man, his form so supple and beautifully chiseled.
No, he’s still a child! I know this, it’s what’s kept me from doing anything before. I won’t take this from him, I can’t. I’ve fought to many of the sick bastards that steal the innocence of the young to become like them.
By sheer force of will I am able to pull back however fractionally, though every part of me practically vibrates with the strain. My head is hanging as I concentrate on making my body cooperate, but even so I can still see him in my peripheral vision. His eyes are closed and the look on his face is oddly relaxed, despite the situation. His eyes open and dart left, towards the infirmary alcove. Yes, good boy. You know what you need to do.
I feel him looking at me again, his consideration a near physical thing. What are you thinking, Tim?
“Batman?” It’s such a sweet sound so full of entreaty and worry. The name strokes the very core of my being and my body stills. So very young. Too young! “Batman?” Powerless. There is nothing I can do in the face of his concern. Concern for me, not himself. He’s not afraid. He should be terrified of me. He should be!
He’s touching me, his fingers are delightfully cool against my cheek below the edge of the cowl. There is no thought involved, I lean into the touch savouring it. I won’t do this, not to him. But this touch, that’s allowable, isn’t it? Harmless. Forgivable.
When Tim kisses me nothing else matters. My convictions wash away before the tempest raging in my body. I grab him, pulling him close. He feels so very good in my arms but that’s not what I want. No, I need….my mind shuts down on that thought even as I’m pulling him up, bending him over the large computer console. It’s a little too high and he has to support himself on his toes or risk sharp edges in painful areas. Not that I care.
With an impatient brush of my hand I move the cape aside and regard his armour clad form. Small, slight, it’s easy to under estimate this boy. And many do on a nightly basis, much to their detriment. But I know the muscle he has, I trained him. I taught him how to make the most of his skill and abilities. There is power in him, I can feel it in the way he lays there, holding himself. Instinct wars with conscious thought as the frame tenses then begins to relax under my hands. He’s making a concerted effort not to fight me. More then that, he’s offering himself to…
No! He can’t! He wouldn’t!
Even as I scream in my mind, my body has betrayed me yet again. Pressing myself up against his posterior I lean over and covered the length of his back. I hate that the armour is there, in my way. I want it gone, I want to feel his skin. I want so very much and yet it all seems so out of reach. My hips begin to move rubbing myself on the boy, still trapped in my own suit as well. The sense of frustration ratchets up another notch and I growl, my mouth close to Tim’s ear. There is an instant where I know what my body is about to do, yet there is no way for me to stop myself.
My teeth clamp down on the point where neck meets shoulder, hard. I can do it hard because he’s still in the suit and cape, still protected. I love it. And Tim, he was forcing himself to relax before, now he has no choice as his body goes boneless, wordlessly submitting to me. Submitting. To me.
It’s both the most amazing turn on and something that makes my stomach churn. The former is quickly winning out however, especially when I hear the exquisite mewl that escapes the boy’s lips. I move my hands to the catches of his suit, undoing the cloak, getting it out of my way then proceeding to the shorts. Somehow I remember that there is a specific way to this, that it’s important I do this right. Of course I remember, it’s because I had made the addition to the suits installing the electro-shock defences. Same as how my cowl has little gas vents that will activate if anyone tries to remove it before I can disarm the counter measure. An eminently sensible precaution given what we do however it’s now beyond frustrating.
More then anything, I just want to strip him and take him. I leave the tunic, because as much as I want to feel his skin, it‘s removal requires far too much precious time. My thoughts, my needs are focusing on his lower body. This will do. For now. Almost. With the cape gone I can bite his flesh, sinking my teeth into his neck. It’s not enough to break the skin, I have that much control at least. He tastes so very good, like ambrosia. I can’t get enough. My teeth move and search, some part of my mind cataloguing how he reacts, what works to make him submissive and compliant. It would seem my little bird has something of a fetish.
As I continue my oral investigations, my hands move to the exposed flesh of his ass and thighs. I can feel the corded muscle of them through the gloves I’m still wearing. Hard won, all of it. He might have let himself into my life, but I’m the one that took his childhood from him. I’m the one that set the rules, forced him to give up so much. Family, friends, hanging out, all the simple things that are part of growing up. Instead I conditioned him, taught him, honed him into something akin to tempered steel. Or I tried. I only got so far. Life took care of the rest.
He’s lost so much now and I’m going to take what little remains to him. I’m a monster.
I can’t stop my needs. I know I can’t, the way my hands grope and fondle show this implicit truth. Even so, I’m not ready to give up. Not when Tim is the one that will pay for my lack of control. Control that is nearly nonexistent as I listen to the sounds coming from the mouth I can’t see. The moans seem to reach to the very core of my being and stoke the burning fire there.
And I’m still in my own suit. Damnit.
I remove my hands from his flesh only for the few fractions of a second it takes to remove the suit’s groin guard. My traitorous body is more then ready for this. I’m not small, in any way, but Tim is. I know he’s not a virgin, I even know that it’s Dick who he’s found his comfort with. He’s still so small. So young. I’ll hurt him, I can’t not. Just as I can’t stop this.
Compromise. Somehow.
Without realizing it, my body has found a solution and hasn’t bothered to wait for my mind to catch up. My length is being ground along the crack of his ass, gaining wonderfully torturous fraction in it’s travels. Frottage is good enough. It has to be.
I can feel my balls tightening. It won’t take long, then this will be over.
I try to shut out the feel of it, try to deny what is happening. Damn Ivy to hell! No, it’s not her fault, not really. It’s mine. I came back to the cave, to where I knew he‘d be. I could have gone to one of the satellite caves, could have dealt with this myself; I didn’t.
When it hits, the ejaculation is literally painful and the world begins to gray out. I fervently hope I’ll lose consciousness and it will be over. I’m not that lucky.
Breathing hard, I look at the mess I’ve made over the top of the boys’ ass and the small of his back. With something close to abject horror I realize I’m still hard. More then hard. Now the need is worse.
My fingers are scooping the creamy mess and pulling it lower, massaging my spunk around Tim’s tight entrance. Around, around. I can’t, I won’t. I can’t stop.
I can’t make my body listen. Not when he’s actively beginning, using words, not just sounds to plead for what I can give him. What I want to give him.
No!
I try to deny it but all that will come up is, “Shhhhhh.” I need him to be quiet, though more then anything I crave hearing his voice. If he’s quiet, I might be able to hold back. Maybe. At the sound of my voice though, a violent shudder runs through him. I try to tell myself that I’ve hurt him, try to use that to shock myself into stopping, but I know it’s a lie. And I can make him feel very good. I can do that much.
Reaching under him, my other hand finds the boys’ penis and if I ever had any doubts about his willingness what I found blew them away. He’s almost as hard as I am. I’ve seen him in the shower after patrol, I know that he’s a fine specimen in his own youthful right. Never before have I allowed myself to think about that. Now I can’t think about anything else.
Perfect.
Willing.
Mine.
No!
Some part of my mind wonders why I’m bothering to object, since it’s obviously futile. The rest is concentrating on both giving Tim a brisk hand job and continuing the task of lubricating his ass, preparing him as best I can under the circumstances. As I work, a finger slips in. I watch intently as one gloved digit sinks into his resisting flesh. So beautiful. So perfect.
My finger penetrates and moves easily as other hand works so effectively to distract him. Good. Add in a second finger, he winces visibly. I won’t hurt you Tim. I promise.
Lube. Something to make it easier for him. Think! Control!
I have to remove both hands to find what I need in my belt, but I can’t just leave him. I place my forearm along his back, holding him down.
The Albolene will work. I pop the little container of makeup removers from the belt. It takes impossibly long to scoop some onto my fingers then I’m pushing them back in. Both. He makes a little strangled sound under me.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Make it good. Have to make it good.
Move them, scissor a little, stretch him out. Have to do this right. Even as I think that, the sounds he’s making change slowly to something far more heartfelt. I smile and my lips almost brush the short hairs on the back of his neck where I inhale the scent of him. Mine. Have to care for what is mine.
I work the two fingers inside him, finding the sweet spot. Another rush of his wonderful words spill forth and he’s moving under me both pumping into my hand, against the invasion of his rectum. No, he’s not allowed. We do this my way.
I remove all contact, standing away from him as much as I can and listen with a pleased smirk as he keens wildly, his body laying panting over of the console. He’s so hard, so close. I won’t let him come, not yet. Something else is needed, have to prolong things just a bit more.
When it happens, its just a reflex. My hand pulls back and lands heavily on the globes of his ass, cupped to make a most satisfying sound as well as to sting his flesh. He jumps and pushes a little higher on his toes as he tries to flee the sensation, but it’s more then that. He’s now in an even better position for another swat. I know it’s a conscious action on his part when he demands, “again.”
I shift so my hand moves to land in a different spot, harder, using proper spanking technique. Each blow moves him, pushing his erection against the unyielding metal of the computer. I can hear it in his frantic breaths, this is driving him close to the edge once more. Perversely I want to see how close I can take it, so the blows continue to rain down on his reddened ass.
He’s pleading again, promising me so many wonderful, impossible things. Finally he seems to realize that he can move and so rears back in an effort to get more friction for his raging hard-on as well as present himself for further abuse. Insolent brat! When my hand falls this time, it’s sharp, biting, a wordless reprimand.
The boy turns around and levels what would be an impressive glare under any other circumstances. At some point I must have pulled of the cowl because I realize that he’s truly looking at me. As his blue eyes meet my darker ones, he begs one more time. “Please.” All the need and desperation go into the single word. Any thought I had of resisting the urges of my body are completely forgotten as though they never existed.
Every reason, every idea, ever coping strategy vanished. My hands are on his ass, spreading the firm flesh and I shift as close as I can. “Yes.” It comes out as something between a hiss and a sigh, all lust. I get the angle right and, I have to stop. Stop now! I can’t hurt him. I won’t. Slowly. Move slowly.
It feels like my every cell is spamming as I fight for the control I’m not sure I have any more. Just the tip. Just….yes! He’s gripping me so tightly, his body showing me just how small he is. I want to sink into him fully but I can’t allow that. Not now, not yet. Go slow. You can do this, just go slow.
Distract him. That will help. Help us both.
I reach around, grabbing his semi-soft member, using my gloved hand to stoke it back to life. I take my time, I have to make sure this is good for him. I have to. He’s moaning again and the boy’s head leans back against my shoulder. His eyes are closed and the look on his face is one of rapturous bliss. Now.
I twitch my hips, making an infinitesimal amount of progress further inside him. Just a little, not much. Control, have to be in control. The boy isn’t making it easy. His body does a kind of shiver that neither moves him away nor against me. Using my teeth I pull the glove from my free hand and grab his hip in what is likely a bruising grip, trying to hold him still as I continue the claiming of his sweet self from both sides.
Finally I’m in to the root and it’s indescribable. Nirvana. No, breathe. Stay still, let him adjust, let it be okay.
Switching hands, I continue to stroke his length even as I pull the remaining gauntlet off. Then I just have to touch, everything. I need to feel him, and curse that the tunic is still on, still hiding his nipples from me.
I can’t last much longer. Improvise. I lean in to bite the shall of Tim’s ear while at the same time I begin to move inside his tight heat. Draw out, almost all the way, then back in. Not to hard. Not yet. Just….not yet. He screams. It’s to fast, to hard. He’s not ready. I can’t stop. Not when it his torment is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
My hips are setting up an unforgivably harsh rhythm. Plunging in and out, fast, faster. More, I need more. I have to feel him, to hear him. His words, no, just sounds now are so perfect. He’s calling my name. Maybe. It spurs me on.
Both hands are holding his hips in place now so that I can get better leverage. I use it all, claiming him in an animalistic fashion. I can feel him tightening up then he’s exploding, screaming and that exquisite ass spasms around me. It’s enough. I sigh and lean over him as I ejaculate inside him, feeling his body milk me.
For a moment, I can think clearly. Robin is under me. No, I’m inside him. We both just came. I pull out, but can’t quite force myself to back off. My hands move to support the boy’s languid form, helping him to his feet, turning him around.
The reprieve ends. I’m looking at his debauched expression and I can’t stop. I close the distance between us. I’m still very, very hard, I realize as my erection brushes against the armoured stomach. Shifting my grip, I hoist him up so that he is sitting on the edge of the console. He blinks large, lazy eyes. So tired. So used. His knees spread wide for me and I move between them. I grasp a firm calf and move it, stretching the leg until it up against my chest, the heel above my shoulder. Then I do the same with the other leg. Still he doesn’t react, there’s just this dreamy little smile on his face, accepting it. Peaceful.
The peace is shattered as I push the end of my throbbing length to his red and swollen entrance. “Robin,” I say, trying to show him, to tell him that I won’t hurt him. I’m going to make it feel good, somehow. His mouth drops open in a soundless gasp as I enter him again. Then the eyes close and his face goes slack. I feel the tips of his fingers dig into my thighs, feebly trying to pull me closer as a litany of gasps erupt from his throat.
So beautiful.
As I once more pound into that supple body, I desperately hope that some day he’ll forgive me. Even if he does, I know that I will never forgive myself.
End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: That's it for Opportunity. But I promise that I'm working on the next part and it will actually have a plot!
This Way To Regrouping Part 1
Pairing: Bruce/Tim, Batman/Robin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex Pollen, Graphic Sex
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, not making any money off them.
Summery: When Batman returns to the cave suffering from a does of Poison Ivy’s sex pollen, Tim is the only one who can help.
What had gone wrong? Everything. Such is life.
I was able to evacuate the civilians, and Ivy should be in custody by now. I made sure she’d stay put until Jim and his people arrived. He’s smart, he knows to have his men treat her as the bio-hazard she is. My suit is almost as good as a government issue hazmat one. Better. Add on a face mask and I’m all set. Nothing to difficult, just another night in Gotham.
Expect that one of her pollen zombies got lucky and ripped the mask off. I, of course, dosed myself with the anti-toxin and finished my job. However by the time I was ready to go, I could feel the vague sense of wrongness. I can think, reason, but it’s like my thoughts are thick molasses. It takes effort to make anything work.
No, not anything, just some things. Other things come to me naturally and I find myself acting on them without conscious thought. And then there are the….ideas. They aren’t hallucinations. They are just there, at the back of my mind, goading me. Suggesting things. Obscene things, with someone who is totally off limits.
I found myself driving back to the cave without any memory of making my way back to the batmobile in the first place. Then I’m in the cave and I can’t get out of the car fast enough because I need to find him. I know he’s here, this is where I left him, where he has to be doing the task I set him. After all the mistrust, all the let downs, all the pain, he’s still a good soldier. I must have done something right somewhere along the way that he’s still here. And right now I’m very thankful for whatever it is. I need him. He’s the only one that can help me.
No! He’s too young!
There, in the chair before the computer. The back is high enough to hide him totally from view, but he heard the car and swivels around to face me. I know he’s talking to me, I can see his lips moving. If I can just focus a little more I could read his lips. Why is it so damn hard to focus?
My feet carry me closer without consulting my brain and then I’m leaning over him, hands clamped on the arms of the chair. He’s puzzled, then concerned. No, not for himself. Run Tim, please run. Don’t let me do this.
Yes, please run. I’ll chase you. I’ll catch you and then it will be all the sweeter when I take you.
No!
I will not do this! I am stronger then this.
Forcing my mouth to work, I try desperately to tell him what happened. I don’t think I’m actually saying anything, I can’t hear words coming from my lips, but I have to tell him. His blue eyes focus on my lips. Good boy. I can see it when he figures out what’s being said. His eyes widen. There is a moment of panicked realization then his cool mind reasserts control. I can actually hear his words.
“Did you use the anti-toxin?” he wants to know, his eyes narrowing in thought. I nod. At least I think I do. I’m not sure if the abrupt movement I make with my chin can be called any such thing. I’m not sure of anything expect how very close his lips are to mine. They’re not nearly close enough.
I watch the thoughts flicker across his face, then he averts his eyes and gives his head a shake. That isn’t what I want. I need him to look at me, to see me. No, please don’t see me, not like this.
My hand reaches out to grasp his jaw and turn him back towards me. I’m kissing him. Hard, demanding. Brutal. Run, Tim. Get away, far away. Please.
He doesn’t run. The teenager is startled, yes, but he parts his lips before my tongue, allowing me entrance. My blood is singing in my veins. He is everything I want, everything I must have and so much more. I’ve watched him grow from an intuitive and lively child into a fine young man, his form so supple and beautifully chiseled.
No, he’s still a child! I know this, it’s what’s kept me from doing anything before. I won’t take this from him, I can’t. I’ve fought to many of the sick bastards that steal the innocence of the young to become like them.
By sheer force of will I am able to pull back however fractionally, though every part of me practically vibrates with the strain. My head is hanging as I concentrate on making my body cooperate, but even so I can still see him in my peripheral vision. His eyes are closed and the look on his face is oddly relaxed, despite the situation. His eyes open and dart left, towards the infirmary alcove. Yes, good boy. You know what you need to do.
I feel him looking at me again, his consideration a near physical thing. What are you thinking, Tim?
“Batman?” It’s such a sweet sound so full of entreaty and worry. The name strokes the very core of my being and my body stills. So very young. Too young! “Batman?” Powerless. There is nothing I can do in the face of his concern. Concern for me, not himself. He’s not afraid. He should be terrified of me. He should be!
He’s touching me, his fingers are delightfully cool against my cheek below the edge of the cowl. There is no thought involved, I lean into the touch savouring it. I won’t do this, not to him. But this touch, that’s allowable, isn’t it? Harmless. Forgivable.
When Tim kisses me nothing else matters. My convictions wash away before the tempest raging in my body. I grab him, pulling him close. He feels so very good in my arms but that’s not what I want. No, I need….my mind shuts down on that thought even as I’m pulling him up, bending him over the large computer console. It’s a little too high and he has to support himself on his toes or risk sharp edges in painful areas. Not that I care.
With an impatient brush of my hand I move the cape aside and regard his armour clad form. Small, slight, it’s easy to under estimate this boy. And many do on a nightly basis, much to their detriment. But I know the muscle he has, I trained him. I taught him how to make the most of his skill and abilities. There is power in him, I can feel it in the way he lays there, holding himself. Instinct wars with conscious thought as the frame tenses then begins to relax under my hands. He’s making a concerted effort not to fight me. More then that, he’s offering himself to…
No! He can’t! He wouldn’t!
Even as I scream in my mind, my body has betrayed me yet again. Pressing myself up against his posterior I lean over and covered the length of his back. I hate that the armour is there, in my way. I want it gone, I want to feel his skin. I want so very much and yet it all seems so out of reach. My hips begin to move rubbing myself on the boy, still trapped in my own suit as well. The sense of frustration ratchets up another notch and I growl, my mouth close to Tim’s ear. There is an instant where I know what my body is about to do, yet there is no way for me to stop myself.
My teeth clamp down on the point where neck meets shoulder, hard. I can do it hard because he’s still in the suit and cape, still protected. I love it. And Tim, he was forcing himself to relax before, now he has no choice as his body goes boneless, wordlessly submitting to me. Submitting. To me.
It’s both the most amazing turn on and something that makes my stomach churn. The former is quickly winning out however, especially when I hear the exquisite mewl that escapes the boy’s lips. I move my hands to the catches of his suit, undoing the cloak, getting it out of my way then proceeding to the shorts. Somehow I remember that there is a specific way to this, that it’s important I do this right. Of course I remember, it’s because I had made the addition to the suits installing the electro-shock defences. Same as how my cowl has little gas vents that will activate if anyone tries to remove it before I can disarm the counter measure. An eminently sensible precaution given what we do however it’s now beyond frustrating.
More then anything, I just want to strip him and take him. I leave the tunic, because as much as I want to feel his skin, it‘s removal requires far too much precious time. My thoughts, my needs are focusing on his lower body. This will do. For now. Almost. With the cape gone I can bite his flesh, sinking my teeth into his neck. It’s not enough to break the skin, I have that much control at least. He tastes so very good, like ambrosia. I can’t get enough. My teeth move and search, some part of my mind cataloguing how he reacts, what works to make him submissive and compliant. It would seem my little bird has something of a fetish.
As I continue my oral investigations, my hands move to the exposed flesh of his ass and thighs. I can feel the corded muscle of them through the gloves I’m still wearing. Hard won, all of it. He might have let himself into my life, but I’m the one that took his childhood from him. I’m the one that set the rules, forced him to give up so much. Family, friends, hanging out, all the simple things that are part of growing up. Instead I conditioned him, taught him, honed him into something akin to tempered steel. Or I tried. I only got so far. Life took care of the rest.
He’s lost so much now and I’m going to take what little remains to him. I’m a monster.
I can’t stop my needs. I know I can’t, the way my hands grope and fondle show this implicit truth. Even so, I’m not ready to give up. Not when Tim is the one that will pay for my lack of control. Control that is nearly nonexistent as I listen to the sounds coming from the mouth I can’t see. The moans seem to reach to the very core of my being and stoke the burning fire there.
And I’m still in my own suit. Damnit.
I remove my hands from his flesh only for the few fractions of a second it takes to remove the suit’s groin guard. My traitorous body is more then ready for this. I’m not small, in any way, but Tim is. I know he’s not a virgin, I even know that it’s Dick who he’s found his comfort with. He’s still so small. So young. I’ll hurt him, I can’t not. Just as I can’t stop this.
Compromise. Somehow.
Without realizing it, my body has found a solution and hasn’t bothered to wait for my mind to catch up. My length is being ground along the crack of his ass, gaining wonderfully torturous fraction in it’s travels. Frottage is good enough. It has to be.
I can feel my balls tightening. It won’t take long, then this will be over.
I try to shut out the feel of it, try to deny what is happening. Damn Ivy to hell! No, it’s not her fault, not really. It’s mine. I came back to the cave, to where I knew he‘d be. I could have gone to one of the satellite caves, could have dealt with this myself; I didn’t.
When it hits, the ejaculation is literally painful and the world begins to gray out. I fervently hope I’ll lose consciousness and it will be over. I’m not that lucky.
Breathing hard, I look at the mess I’ve made over the top of the boys’ ass and the small of his back. With something close to abject horror I realize I’m still hard. More then hard. Now the need is worse.
My fingers are scooping the creamy mess and pulling it lower, massaging my spunk around Tim’s tight entrance. Around, around. I can’t, I won’t. I can’t stop.
I can’t make my body listen. Not when he’s actively beginning, using words, not just sounds to plead for what I can give him. What I want to give him.
No!
I try to deny it but all that will come up is, “Shhhhhh.” I need him to be quiet, though more then anything I crave hearing his voice. If he’s quiet, I might be able to hold back. Maybe. At the sound of my voice though, a violent shudder runs through him. I try to tell myself that I’ve hurt him, try to use that to shock myself into stopping, but I know it’s a lie. And I can make him feel very good. I can do that much.
Reaching under him, my other hand finds the boys’ penis and if I ever had any doubts about his willingness what I found blew them away. He’s almost as hard as I am. I’ve seen him in the shower after patrol, I know that he’s a fine specimen in his own youthful right. Never before have I allowed myself to think about that. Now I can’t think about anything else.
Perfect.
Willing.
Mine.
No!
Some part of my mind wonders why I’m bothering to object, since it’s obviously futile. The rest is concentrating on both giving Tim a brisk hand job and continuing the task of lubricating his ass, preparing him as best I can under the circumstances. As I work, a finger slips in. I watch intently as one gloved digit sinks into his resisting flesh. So beautiful. So perfect.
My finger penetrates and moves easily as other hand works so effectively to distract him. Good. Add in a second finger, he winces visibly. I won’t hurt you Tim. I promise.
Lube. Something to make it easier for him. Think! Control!
I have to remove both hands to find what I need in my belt, but I can’t just leave him. I place my forearm along his back, holding him down.
The Albolene will work. I pop the little container of makeup removers from the belt. It takes impossibly long to scoop some onto my fingers then I’m pushing them back in. Both. He makes a little strangled sound under me.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Make it good. Have to make it good.
Move them, scissor a little, stretch him out. Have to do this right. Even as I think that, the sounds he’s making change slowly to something far more heartfelt. I smile and my lips almost brush the short hairs on the back of his neck where I inhale the scent of him. Mine. Have to care for what is mine.
I work the two fingers inside him, finding the sweet spot. Another rush of his wonderful words spill forth and he’s moving under me both pumping into my hand, against the invasion of his rectum. No, he’s not allowed. We do this my way.
I remove all contact, standing away from him as much as I can and listen with a pleased smirk as he keens wildly, his body laying panting over of the console. He’s so hard, so close. I won’t let him come, not yet. Something else is needed, have to prolong things just a bit more.
When it happens, its just a reflex. My hand pulls back and lands heavily on the globes of his ass, cupped to make a most satisfying sound as well as to sting his flesh. He jumps and pushes a little higher on his toes as he tries to flee the sensation, but it’s more then that. He’s now in an even better position for another swat. I know it’s a conscious action on his part when he demands, “again.”
I shift so my hand moves to land in a different spot, harder, using proper spanking technique. Each blow moves him, pushing his erection against the unyielding metal of the computer. I can hear it in his frantic breaths, this is driving him close to the edge once more. Perversely I want to see how close I can take it, so the blows continue to rain down on his reddened ass.
He’s pleading again, promising me so many wonderful, impossible things. Finally he seems to realize that he can move and so rears back in an effort to get more friction for his raging hard-on as well as present himself for further abuse. Insolent brat! When my hand falls this time, it’s sharp, biting, a wordless reprimand.
The boy turns around and levels what would be an impressive glare under any other circumstances. At some point I must have pulled of the cowl because I realize that he’s truly looking at me. As his blue eyes meet my darker ones, he begs one more time. “Please.” All the need and desperation go into the single word. Any thought I had of resisting the urges of my body are completely forgotten as though they never existed.
Every reason, every idea, ever coping strategy vanished. My hands are on his ass, spreading the firm flesh and I shift as close as I can. “Yes.” It comes out as something between a hiss and a sigh, all lust. I get the angle right and, I have to stop. Stop now! I can’t hurt him. I won’t. Slowly. Move slowly.
It feels like my every cell is spamming as I fight for the control I’m not sure I have any more. Just the tip. Just….yes! He’s gripping me so tightly, his body showing me just how small he is. I want to sink into him fully but I can’t allow that. Not now, not yet. Go slow. You can do this, just go slow.
Distract him. That will help. Help us both.
I reach around, grabbing his semi-soft member, using my gloved hand to stoke it back to life. I take my time, I have to make sure this is good for him. I have to. He’s moaning again and the boy’s head leans back against my shoulder. His eyes are closed and the look on his face is one of rapturous bliss. Now.
I twitch my hips, making an infinitesimal amount of progress further inside him. Just a little, not much. Control, have to be in control. The boy isn’t making it easy. His body does a kind of shiver that neither moves him away nor against me. Using my teeth I pull the glove from my free hand and grab his hip in what is likely a bruising grip, trying to hold him still as I continue the claiming of his sweet self from both sides.
Finally I’m in to the root and it’s indescribable. Nirvana. No, breathe. Stay still, let him adjust, let it be okay.
Switching hands, I continue to stroke his length even as I pull the remaining gauntlet off. Then I just have to touch, everything. I need to feel him, and curse that the tunic is still on, still hiding his nipples from me.
I can’t last much longer. Improvise. I lean in to bite the shall of Tim’s ear while at the same time I begin to move inside his tight heat. Draw out, almost all the way, then back in. Not to hard. Not yet. Just….not yet. He screams. It’s to fast, to hard. He’s not ready. I can’t stop. Not when it his torment is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
My hips are setting up an unforgivably harsh rhythm. Plunging in and out, fast, faster. More, I need more. I have to feel him, to hear him. His words, no, just sounds now are so perfect. He’s calling my name. Maybe. It spurs me on.
Both hands are holding his hips in place now so that I can get better leverage. I use it all, claiming him in an animalistic fashion. I can feel him tightening up then he’s exploding, screaming and that exquisite ass spasms around me. It’s enough. I sigh and lean over him as I ejaculate inside him, feeling his body milk me.
For a moment, I can think clearly. Robin is under me. No, I’m inside him. We both just came. I pull out, but can’t quite force myself to back off. My hands move to support the boy’s languid form, helping him to his feet, turning him around.
The reprieve ends. I’m looking at his debauched expression and I can’t stop. I close the distance between us. I’m still very, very hard, I realize as my erection brushes against the armoured stomach. Shifting my grip, I hoist him up so that he is sitting on the edge of the console. He blinks large, lazy eyes. So tired. So used. His knees spread wide for me and I move between them. I grasp a firm calf and move it, stretching the leg until it up against my chest, the heel above my shoulder. Then I do the same with the other leg. Still he doesn’t react, there’s just this dreamy little smile on his face, accepting it. Peaceful.
The peace is shattered as I push the end of my throbbing length to his red and swollen entrance. “Robin,” I say, trying to show him, to tell him that I won’t hurt him. I’m going to make it feel good, somehow. His mouth drops open in a soundless gasp as I enter him again. Then the eyes close and his face goes slack. I feel the tips of his fingers dig into my thighs, feebly trying to pull me closer as a litany of gasps erupt from his throat.
So beautiful.
As I once more pound into that supple body, I desperately hope that some day he’ll forgive me. Even if he does, I know that I will never forgive myself.
End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: That's it for Opportunity. But I promise that I'm working on the next part and it will actually have a plot!
This Way To Regrouping Part 1