Batfic: Voyeurism
Batfic: Voyeurism
Characters: Bruce, Dick/Jason/Tim
Rating: VERY NC-17
Warnings: Foul Language, Kinkiness and Rampant Bunny…er, Robin sex.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making money.
Length: 7480 words
Summery: Bruce gets an eyeful.
Acknowledgements: Thank you
mad4hana and lishel_francium for betaing.
Author’s Notes: this stand alone smut fest is the result of a plot bunny that
glitterandlube gave me and my promise to write it for her.
A quiet night in Gotham means an early turn in for the Dark Knight, which is something of a rare luxury. Even so there is much to be done in the Cave itself. Reports to be written, files to be updated. Usually these tasks fall to Robin, who is in fact very adept with all things electronic. Not only that, but Tim is extremely capable in regards to handling vast amounts of seemingly unrelated information. Right now, however, he’s currently out of town following the trail of some local thugs who have alarming ties to the Intergang. So Bruce did for himself.
Not a bad thing, really. Part of him appreciated the quietness in the Cave. The boy is a very good detective and soldier, something which Bruce takes much pride in. However, Tim is approaching the age where things start to get…difficult. It’s just safer for everyone concerned to keep him at arm’s length. Of course, Tim also seems to value the trust shown and freedom given with these solo missions, which is an added benefit.
When the necessary computer work is done he sits back with a little sigh. Bruce isn’t tired, not yet. If anything he’s feeling frustrated, something he berates himself for. After all a quiet night in his city, the place he’s sworn to protect, is a good thing; it’s what he works so diligently for. However it leaves him feeling disquiet and unsatisfied. If he’s absolutely honest with himself, something which he does his best to avoid whenever feasible, he can pinpoint the cause.
Bruce Wayne hasn’t had a date in a week. And with only a handful of low level thugs to beat up, he really needed…something. He pushes it to the back of his mind. The needs of his body have always been secondary to everything else in his life and tonight will be no different.
Stripping out of his costume takes time allowing him to think on what to do next. The Batmobile’s suspension could use work. Then there are the three different Batgadget projects in various states of completion on the work table. Or he can work out on the weight machines. Not to mention all the surveillance records he could check. There is never a lack of things to do. Is it any wonder that he sleeps as little as humanly possible?
It’s only 2am and there is a long way to go before his “night” is over. Much to Alfred’s disgust, he rarely seeks his bed before five in the morning.
Over the next two and a half hours he not only gets the new tracker completed, and the car’s struts replaced, he also writes a new algorithm to keep track of the comings and goings of certain Gotham personalities, not that there had been anything wrong with the old one. It’s just good to keep things current and advanced.
Sitting at the computer he decides to look in on his birds. Robin had said that he’d stay with Dick if things ran long. And Nightwing should be finished with his patrol by now, barring the unforeseen. His fingers typed out the commands without any conscious thought on his part. Checking on his boys--his family--is just another part of his night’s routine.
Twenty-nine, that’s how many cameras are situated in Dick’s Tower. Except not one of them showed him the person he seeks. Nothing to be alarmed about, his son had asked him to buy some proprieties to use as satellite lairs. He could be at one of those for any number of reasons. Of course, Bruce had all of them bugged as well, something Dick knows.
They’d talked about it once. Bruce had been ready to rebuff the young man’s anger only to have Dick give him a little smile and say that it reminded him of when Bruce would watch him sleep as a child. Apparently, that was a good thing.
Still nothing. He flipped through the locations, the corners of his lips turning down. Should he…? There, a door at the Columbus Avenue building that just opened. He switched back to that one in time to see Dick stumbling slightly under the weight of the person he’s helping inside. Someone with dark hair and broad shoulders, his head hanging down so that his face is obscured. One leg is dragging a bit. Zooming in, he can see the bloody gash through the ripped jeans, across the shin.
In the silent image, Nightwing’s lips are moving, encouraging the other? He toggled the audio signal.
“--andle the situation. And what was that? I mean a five year old could have--”
“Shuddup, Dickie-bird. Shit happens.”
Ah. Jason.
Bruce frowns. What had happened this time? Jason has mellowed, for lack of a better term, and by all accounts is making an effort to be one of the good guys again. The man spends a lot of time with Dick these days, which makes sense since they both live in Manhattan. Anyone other than Bruce or Tim would think them the worst of enemies the way they verbally and physically spar at any and all opportunities; of course such assumptions are quite erroneous.
It had taken time and a lot of work on both their parts, however the care they have for each other--no matter how well concealed--is genuine. Dick‘s words are the result of the concern he feels for his brother, rather than the rivalry many would suppose is the cause. He does the same with Bruce. Perhaps it has something to do with how he was raised. The Bat isn’t exactly the best role model.
Dick drops the wounded man on a couch and then heads off, presumably to get the first aid supplies, or rather, he tries to. A strong hand grabs him by the wrist, effectively stopping him. Thankfully the angle of the camera is good, or he might have missed how Jason’s thumb strokes the heel of Dick’s palm.
“Jason,” comes the exasperated admonishment. “Later.”
“Now.” A strong command is uttered in that single word.
Even with the white-out lenses in place, it’s clear that Dick is glaring at his house guest. “Later. You want to get gangrene in that leg of yours?”
“I’ll risk it.” Bruce doesn’t really have to look to know there is a smirk on the younger man’s face, as well as hearing the grunt of pain under the words.
“Like hell, you will. Sit. Stay. “ Jason just keeps holding him, smiling like the cat that had gotten the canary. “Fine. You let me doctor you and I’ll give you a blow job. Satisfied?” Even with the mask still in place, there can be no mistaking the long suffering tone.
“No. Do me now, then I’ll be too tired for anything else and you can play doctor all you want.” Jason has flipped up his own lenses; those dark blue eyes were smiling both beautifully and disturbingly under the mask. The detective part of Bruce’s mind is trying to unravel what’s happening, other than Jason’s obvious sex drive issues. Perhaps the wound isn’t as bad as it looks?
“Jason…” There a threat in the name. What it might be is left unsaid when the door opens again. A quick angle change shows Robin standing there. Dick looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Perfect timing, little brother. I need a hand here.”
Jason scowls. “Hey! I’m the one that needs a hand. Or a mouth. An ass would be good too, now that I think about it.”
Robin comes into the room, his shoulders rolled so that the cape conceals all but his tabi as he moves, the door shutting soundlessly behind him. Everything about his body language is wary skepticism. “Did he get dosed with something?” Tim’s mouth is a thin, disapproving line.
“Not that I know of. We had an ugly street brawl with some metas. Not even any interesting powers, just jacked up strength and the like.” Dick hit’s a pressure point on Jason’s wrist to make him let go and Jason…actually pouts? There’s no other way to describe it. “Can you please keep him still while I take care of that?” One hand gestures at the mangled mess of the right leg.
“Yeah, kid. C’mer.” There is definitely a leer on Jason’s face, made all the more obscene because he’s still wearing the red domino. For his part, the youngest of the three looks decidedly unimpressed. Yet, there is something else in his face. Calculations? The boy’s fingers easily release the catch of his cape which is dropped to one side.
“Fine. But you’re going to have to talk to me.” As he speaks, Robin is moving to straddle Jason’s thighs, carefully keeping himself high above the other’s groin.
“Didn’t know you liked dirty sex-talk, baby-bird.” Yes, there is something off about the expression, an unnatural calmness under the lecherous countenance.
Tim lets that one pass, he knows it’s safer not to feed into the other’s behavior. “Why are you behaving like you’re on a sex pollen high?” Calm, analytical and to the point.
“Wha? Oh. Meditation thingy. More like self-hypnosis.” His hands are roaming Robin’s suit, clearly trying to undo the catches.
“Explain.”
“Well….oh.” There is a flash of pain on Jay’s face which quickly mutates into a self-satisfied smile. “Fuck…yeah.” Whatever else he might have expressed is clearly not nearly as important as getting his hands into Tim’s spiky hair and pulling him down for a thorough tonsil check. Interestingly, Tim doesn’t resist.
Ah, that might have something to do with it; Dick is crouched on the floor. The pant leg has been cut to reveal the extent of the damage as he carefully picks bits of debris out of the ragged wound before moving to properly disinfect it. Thus Tim is doing his best to make sure that Jay does in fact stay still. The former Red Hood is making a litany of odd sounds that are somewhat between pain and lust as he kisses Tim deeply, his hands grabbing at the boy’s scalp and neck encouragingly.
“Almost there,” Dick says after a little while, to no one in particular, as he picks over the contents of the first aid kit. Tim takes this as the cue to come up for air and again tries to question his brother.
“Self-hypnosis?”
“Mmmm.” Jay’s eyes are closed as he licks his lips. “Yeah. Tricks the mind into treating pain signals as something else.” Bruce raises an eyebrow as he watches the scene. Jay never cared for the more mental aspects of his training as Robin.
“Sex,” Tim concludes unnecessarily
“’xactly.”
At the same time, Dick yells. “Hey! Leave the hips out of it!” Jason apparently bucked upwards vying for the contact which his little brother is wilfully denying him.
The eyes are open again. “Make me,” he challenges Dick. He’s clearly itching for a battle of wills. Instead of giving it to him, Dick tries again to bribe him into good behavior.
“I’ll help you tie up Tim once I’m done,” Nightwing offers in an oddly neutral but suggestive tone.
Tim goes very, very still. “No Robin bondage.” The infliction of the words allow for no argument. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t seem that anyone is listening.
The uncooperative patient is licking his lips as he considers that offer. “Deal.”
“I said, no Robin bondage,” Tim reiterates firmly.
“Yeah yeah, sure,” Jay pronounces distractedly as his wandering hands again seek to bring the boy in for another deep, hot kiss. This time Tim resists, but it’s a token effort at best.
Down on the floor Dick is freezing the damaged tissue before beginning to stitch it. It really is a mess. Bruce is a little surprised that the bone isn’t shattered.
Tim has to work to keep Jason’s attention on his mouth, rather than trying for other kinds of stimulation. It would seem the boy is proving effectively distracting given the way the other is latched on to him, as well as Dick’s eventual exclamation of triumph.
“Done. You can let him up, Tim.”
“Nuh-uh.” The boy’s efforts to move away are halted by a strong arm about his waist. “Not yet he can’t. And you…” Jason gives Dick’s groin a nudge with his good foot. “Keep your word.”
There is an abortive sound from Tim before he’s being kissed again. Obviously Tim isn’t the only one that is being effectively distracting. Or perhaps it’s become a contest? Tim lowers himself, spreading his thighs so that he can rub the armoured shorts against Jason’s groin. At this angle it can’t be anything more than a tease, which is likely the point. Jay’s hips buck, only too happy to tease right back, keeping his little partner’s attention fully on their antics.
Bruce can see Dick moving silently about the large room. He puts the first aid kit back in its cubby, then seems to be searching for something. No, several somethings. Bruce frowns when he can’t get a good visual of his hands. He’s not entirely sure why he’s still observing the three, since Jason has been effectively patched up.
Well, that’s not entirely true, he does know on some level.
For all that he says he doesn’t blame Bruce for letting him die, there are a great many things Jason does indeed blame his adoptive father for. Because of this, it’s been prudent for Bruce to leave him to his own devices rather than reopening old wounds. Nightwing gives him regular reports on how he’s doing, but that’s really not enough. So he watches, trying to learn more about the boy that used to fight beside him, then fought against him. Seeing how he interacts with his brothers is one more clue to understanding him and maybe, eventually, reconnecting with him.
With that subconscious rationalization firmly rooted, he keeps his eyes on the screen. Dick is standing at the couch, behind Tim. There is a sound that could only be called an indigent squawk from the boy before he’s turning around and glaring at Dick. The phrase “if looks could kill” is very appropriate, not that it fazes the elder brother in the slightest. If anything, the Cheshire cat grin only widens.
Another camera angle shows that Robin’s arms have been pulled behind his back in a set of cuffs. Fuzzy cuffs. With a quick catch ratcheting mechanism. Not exactly part of the standard equipment.
“What are you doing?” the youngest of the three asks in an impressively menacing voice, which matches his very cold expression perfectly.
Dick seems extremely pleased with the situation. “Just keeping my promise, little brother.” He reaches a hand out and ruffles the boy’s hair, probably just to get that delightfully pissed off look from Tim.
“Take them off Dick. Now.” He’s putting everything he has into his Robin voice and for a split second Nightwing looks to be…considering the idea that he’s miscalculated. It’s a situation that doesn’t last long.
“You’re the one that allowed him to get them on, Timmy,” Jason croons. His hands are working on getting inside the waistband of the tights. It might be because of the seeking fingers, or the words spoken, but whatever the reason the boy has no comeback for that. In any case they all know that he has the skill to get out of the restraints if he really wants to.
There, Jason is pushing down the shorts and tights, removing the jock, just enough to allow Tim’s erection to spring free though only barely. Now he’s being constrained by the edge of his suit and one of Jason’s hands which is determinedly feeling him up. Clearly, the boy is trying very hard not to thrust into the other’s touch. Evidently he intends to be contrary to the end.
“Ya see, the thing about our little bird here, is that he bitches about not wanting something in order to get what he’s bitching about,” Jason explains magnanimously as if he’d just disclosed one of the great secrets of the universe. He’s smiling broadly, though it’s hard to tell if it because of his revelation or the fact that Tim just gave an abortive buck into his touch.
As all this occurs, Dick is quietly moving around, preparing for the next phase of their plans. Plans which Tim seems to have momentarily forgotten about. Then he’s being pulled off Jason’s lap, his confusion is evident as well as his bereavement when the hand leaves his groin. He’s less then graceful about getting his feet under him, but that’s excusable given the way he’s being manhandled backwards and the constraint of the durable fabric around his thighs. Dick snaps a length of chain between the cuffs, giving the boy greater freedom of movement but still definitively binding him. The reason for this becomes apparent as he lifts Tim’s arms above his head and hooks the end of the length to a catch set in the ceiling.
Tim is twisting and moving, rotating his shoulders, and then Dick hitches it up a few more links. The chain is just long enough that the boy can almost get his heels down. Almost. Hands flex in the cuffs and he’s glancing around. Bruce can practically see him cataloguing everything that is within the immediate area and how it can be used as a distraction and/or a weapon while he works to free himself. Not that he’s going to utilize his training in this, it’s just a habit. Good boy, Bruce thinks to himself approvingly.
“Is he secure?” Jay wants to know, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of what is being done to his youngest sibling.
“Yup,” Dick pronounces with a happy grin. “Sooooo….” He eyes Jason’s leg wearily, clearly unsure how to proceed. It wouldn’t do for the man to aggravate his injury.
“Get over here, Dick. You’ve got another promise to keep.” Bruce notices how his middle son deliberately shifts his leg. Is he actually making it twinge, even through the freezing, to activate his self-hypnosis? Perhaps he has some masochistic tendencies? In any case, the resulting expression is downright sexy and Dick can’t help but move to stand in front of the other before dropping to his knees. Nothing is said as he pops the button and fly of the jeans. Jason shifts his hips helpfully as Nightwing works to pull out the engorged length.
“Ohhh, fuck. That’s good, Dickie,” Jason declares, his eyes slitting closed as his body tenses and shifts infinitesimally. “Give baby-bird a really good show.”
For his part, Tim is standing there, doing his best to glare at his brothers but the flexing hands are betraying his interest, as does the hard penis that is rising above his disarrayed tights.
Dick is taking the honouring of his word very seriously as one hand is wrapped around the base of Jason’s impressive cock and leans in to lick at the flared mushroom head, causing his brother’s breathing to quicken. Then he goes all the way down in one smooth, practiced move. Cheeks hallowing out, lips carefully covering his teeth, he fucks his mouth worshipfully on the prize.
Hands are in his thick black hair and now Jason’s hips begin to piston, taking control of the situation as little groans and grunts escape him. One look at his face shows the ecstasy he’s experiencing. It doesn’t last long before there is a shout and shudder hailing his enthusiastic release. Dick manages not to let a drop escape his ravenous mouth. He pulls off just long enough to catch his breath before going back down and carefully cleaning the other with his dexterous tongue.
Change cameras and, yes, Dick is very clearly enjoying himself. Perhaps even more so then Jason is, if that’s possible. Behind them Tim is working very hard to keep his breathing even.
“Oh, very nice,” Jason says after a long moment, his eyes closed, his head resting on the back of the couch as he licks his lips. A sound comes through the electronics that is suspiciously something like a purr. Dick is purring? He is indeed as he nuzzles the sensitive flesh of Jason’s inner thigh. A short time later, strong hands are cupping Dick’s face, making him rise up a little. “Go play with Tim while I catch my breath.” However, before releasing his brother so that he can follow the order, Jason leans in and plunders Dick’s willing mouth, tasting him thoroughly.
“Mmmm.” With something close to reluctance, Jason lets go and gives a little push. Dick’s trademark grin is back as he gains his feet and heads over to the dangling form of one dishevelled Robin. He has to lower himself a little to capture the boy’s lips with his own. It’s interesting to watch the way Tim moves in his restraints as he undulates and tries to get closer to the man before him, to deepen the kiss in an effort to get the last lingering flavour of Jason’s seed. This part he obviously has no misgivings about.
The man on the couch is watching this with a very self-satisfied smile on his face, content to let them enjoy each others’ mouths. Then the smile turns positively evil. “Hey Dickie, have you ever spanked your little brother?” When the question registers, both vigilantes halted their explorations. Dick is looking over his shoulder curiously, but Tim is back to trying to glare scathing death at Jason.
“Can’t say that I have,” the eldest admits, tone and expression considering.
“No. Not happening,” Robin says, pulling away as definitively as he can given his current situation.
“Go on, pull his pants down and put your gauntlets back on,” Jason instructs with something that sounds suspiciously like firsthand knowledge. Dick of course had removed the armoured gloves while tending his brother’s wound.
“Don’t,” Tim repeated, a clear warning.
Dick is biting his lip, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Tim, then looking to Jason. The middle brother’s expression is confident and authorative. A moment later Dick nods and heads to the side table where the gauntlets are. Slipping them back on he flexes his hands, making them settle properly. The entire time, Tim is watching him and swinging a little in his bonds as he works to…something. He doesn’t seem to be actually trying to get free, though his face isn’t what the casual observer would call happy.
Tim spins a little as he tries to keep Dick from moving behind him. “Don’t you DARE, Dick.”
There, Dick has also noticed that Tim isn’t actively working to gain his freedom. He smiles warmly, almost reassuringly which doesn’t quite fit the situation. “Shhhh, little brother. Jay gave you a show; it’s only fair to return the favour.” A hand snakes out and snags Tim about the waist so that he can keep him from moving. Then the other hand is pulling the shorts and tights down to his knees, fully exposing the leanly muscled backside.
Dick moves his gloved hands over the firm ass cheeks massaging them in a way that has Tim fighting back the little sounds he clearly wants to make. The the boy is grinding his teeth and remaining as still as he possibly can. When the first smack lands, a surprised gasp traitorously escapes his lips. The exposed penis jumps, hardening a little more. He jerks again as the second blow lands, his body making it obvious that the attention is not entirely unwanted. However Tim remains determined to be contrary. He grabs the chain attached to cuffs and pulls himself up, taking his feet off the floor, clearly hoping to deprive the man of the leverage he needs to makes the hits effective.
That hope is dashed when the strong arm returns about his waist and takes care of the problem; as the next swat lands, there is an audible gasp. Then the words start.
“I’m going to hurt you really, really, badly Dick. Both of you. Then I’m going to dress you up in frilly baby girl clothes and take pictures.”
“You’ll probably have to gag the little shit,” Jason comments helpfully.
“You. Shut. UP!” Robin all but screams at him. This of course only makes the incorrigible one smirk even more, ever so pleased with the reaction. Whatever else Tim might have threatened them with goes unspoken as he’s writhing under a sequence of quick swats, each one falling in a new and unpredictable location that is clearly enflaming his arousal.
Dick leaves him to hang there, panting, as he goes to find something to use as a gag. So far Jason’s suggestion have been very good ones, which means he’s probably right about this too. Exactly how many of Tim’s kinks does the second Robin know about? And how?
At some point it occurs to Tim that a) his tactics hadn’t worked and b) Nightwing isn’t behind him any more so he lowers his feet back to the ground. Now it’s very obvious exactly how hard he is. Jason has noticed and is licking his lips suggestively as he lightly traces his fingers over his own semi-hard length. “Gorgeous little fucker.”
This of course makes Tim scowl and resume glaring.
When Dick returns he not only has a length of fabric but also a bottle of something. Lube most likely since he is thinking ahead rather than simply following orders. The tube gets set on the floor and then Dick is moving quickly, slipping the cloth between Tim’s teeth and tying it securely even as the other tries to buck and spin. The boy is chewing resistively on the gag; the white out lenses of mask only serve to increase the threat in his expression.
There is no perfunctory stroking this time, no warning before the gloved hand strikes the unprotected ass. The young body bucks but even more delightful is the sound that emerges around the gag and the look on Tim’s face. It’s likely a safe bet that his eyes are closed behind the mask now. Another blow and he’s leaning into them, making sounds of want and need. His torrid member is quickly on the way to a painfully hard state, bobbing enthusiastically with every blow.
Jason is now stroking himself, shifting his hips as he watches. Bruce is fascinated by how the gag is the trigger that allows Tim to let go and just feel. Now, as the boy takes the heavy swats he is moaning almost continuously, his head hanging forward in the rare moments of rest between strikes. The image he presents is truly arousing in its own right, suspended and helpless, at the mercy of his brothers’ desires.
Nor is it only Tim who is deriving his pleasure from their foreplay. Jay is watching the youngest as he writhes, mewling with need and want, a positively predatory expression on the man’s face as he continued to slowly, lingeringly stroke himself back to life. For his part, Dick shows every sign of getting into the new found role as he begins to add flourishes to his motions, actively seeking new ways to gain the delightful reactions from his victim. His other fingers have since been pushed up under the tunic and are tormenting a nipple while he takes a break, allowing the punishing hand to caress the boy’s exposed crack. The actions send shivers throughout Tim’s body, making him jerk and rattle the chain as his erection produces pearls of pre-ejaculate.
Bruce is steadily ignoring the fact that one of his own hands is pushing past the drawstrings of his track pants, the tips of his fingers caressing the arousal waiting there as he eyes remained glued to the monitor.
Jason licks his lips and closes his eyes briefly before looking at the sight before him. “Lube up your finger Dick.” The man questions to his brother with a look. “Yeah, leave the glove on.” At that, Tim all but convulses with the moan that works its way around the gag. “You’re going to get well fucked, baby-bird,” the second Robin says very deliberately, watching for the reaction it elicits: an uncontrollable gulp and the excited twitching of his eager, and not particularly small, appendage.
“We’re going to start slow. One finger…” Dick takes the cue for what it is and slowly inserts the finger he’s prepared. There are harsh, ragged sounds as the bounded boy breathes through his nose, ass cheeks clenching tightly against the invader. “Still fighting?” The idea seems to amuse Jason.
“Jesus, Tim.” That’s Dick as he makes a concentrated effort to get the single digit into the tight heat. “Don’t…”
“It’s his thing, Dick. He’s a very bad boy, you know. Always fighting, never listening. You’re going to have to make him accept it. Show him that it’s better to give in.” Jason’s words have as much, if not more, of an effect on the captive youth than the hard, cool gloved finger inside his ass. Something like a mangled keening sound emerges around the cloth barrier.
Dick has his palm resting on one firm, fleshy globe as his finger pumps deeper within Tim’s tight hole. Searching….searching. There! Tim bucks hard, screaming into the gag as his prostate is struck.
“Don’t you fucking DARE come, Kid. Do you hear me?” Jay says, his voice more a growl than anything else which has Tim nodding franticly but also looking very worried. The man sees it as well and frowns a little. “Can you hold off, baby-bird?” This nod is far more hesitant, not to mention distracted as Dick works his ass, changing the angle, the depth, finding new sensations to deluge him with. “Do you need help to do as you’re told?” The third nod is almost unperceivable and the body slumps a little as the finger inside stills for a moment. Breathing, just breathing seems to be a lot of work for the boy.
Dick is watching for direction, which Jason has absolutely no problem providing. “Hold him, Dick. Help him with his control.” The smile is a little uncertain, but the hand under the tunic slides lower, teasing the tautly muscled stomach and abdomen. The fingertips skirt the boy’s groin, instead tickling the sensitive skin of the thigh. Tim looks to be almost panicking, fighting his own body’s reaction which is perilously close to disobeying the order he’s been given.
Taking pity on him, Dick places a rough, constricting hold of the eager penis. Tim pushes back in the restraints until he’s resting against the other’s chest, which also pushes the finger farther into him. More small, delicious sounds ensue as the boy begins working himself between the two sensations.
“Stop that, you greedy little shit. We decide, not you.” Jason has a very cross look on his face now, but Tim isn’t stopping. The middle brother motions to Dick and Tim whimpers, biting down on the gag as the hand on his penis tightens cruelly; his efforts cease. Another look passes between the two men and the bounded form is sent shifting and wriggling as a second armoured finger is added to the first. “How tight is he?
“Incredibly tight,” Dick replies with obvious admiration. “This is going to take work.” Work he’s already started engaging in, if the acute panting and shaking legs are any indication.
“You want him to work you hard,” Jason states, his eyes on the boy with hungry appraisal. Blue eyes take in the beauty of the straining body being pushed and made to feel its own helpless pleasure, something which is only accentuated by the forceful words. “You need it, baby-bird. You have such tight control that you don’t know how to let go. That’s why you need us, Timmy. We’ll make you let go. It won’t be your doing, not your fault.”
Dick is scissoring his fingers now and it’s difficult to tell if it’s his administrations or the other’s words that are what is driving the boy closer and closer to the edge Dick’s grip denies him. Perhaps a combination of both.
“That’ll be enough. Enter him.” An order and by now, Dick is used to it but that couldn’t possibly be enough prep, could it? Tim’s sensual passage should be slick, true, but oh so tight. Still, still… Both hands leave Tim’s body causing a distressed sound to wrestle itself free of his throat before the teenager sags. The white out lens of the domino look to Jason, a plea in every line of his face.
The older man shifts in a way that spoke of a desire to leave the couch, but he doesn’t, instead settling himself as he continues to tease his own length. “Hold it together, Kid. We’re going to make it very good,” he promises, the voice both commanding and soothing. Another little nod from Tim, then a gulp as both of Dick’s hands pry the ass cheeks apart, letting the air tickle the exposed entrance before the thick shaft nudges him. There is a choked sound when the muscle reflexively clenches against what they all know are to come.
The acrobat is gritting his teeth as he presses forward, hanging tenuously onto his control in the face of the sweetness waiting. Twin yells. One of triumph and one of startled…Pain? Resignation? From the couch an appreciative groan arises. None of the three can hear an answering sound that occurs in a cave some two hundred or so miles south-west.
Panting, Dick is finally fully sheathed. One hand slips back around and takes hold of the boy’s needful hard-on.
“Yeah, like that, Dickie-Bird,” Jason encourages. “Use that sweet ass to get yourself off. But don’t let our dear little fuck toy come. Not…” He closes his eyes and his hand stills on his own length, clearly pulling himself back. “Yet.”
A moan, no two. One is deep and guttural, the other high and thready. Then panting, a nasal sound. Tim’s nostrils flare as he tries to get air in his lungs. Dick’s hips are moving sharp and fast, even as he once more resumes the iron grip at the base of his partner’s tortured shaft. The man’s face is a delightful mix of concentration and slack abandonment.
Tim can do nothing beyond making those incredible noises as he’s forced to take the exquisitely brutal pounding. The other hand is on his hip, tight enough it’s quite possible there will be bruises, holding him still. It doesn’t matter what Robin may or may not want to do. At this moment, it’s all about Dick and his need to reach a dizzying completion.
When he comes, it’s ever so hard, violent almost and accompanied by a possessive growl. Bruce clamps down on his own length, denying the same pleasure to himself.
Leaning in, riding the endorphin high, Dick bites the corded muscle of Tim’s neck, causing the other to buck hard, hanging his head forward to expose more of the flesh. The soft, pink tongue comes out to sooth the not quite wound.
Jason is barely touching himself at all as he watches the show he’s so clearly enjoying, a smug little smile on his face. Anything more than the barest caress will send him over the edge and that’s not what he wants. Not yet, and certainly not by his own hand.
Both of those before Jay are currently trying to relearn how to breathe. It’s a long couple of heartbeats before the older man slowly pulls out with an obscenely wet sound. Only after his flaccid self has left the other’s body does he take his hand off Tim’s penis which is now an almost alarming color as well as rock hard. No longer supported by the other in any way, the adolescent sags in his bindings as weariness wars with his body’s desperate need.
They left him to recover like that, an action which is hard to understand. Are they being unimaginably cruel or taking pity on Tim? Nightwing is cleaning himself up, studiously ignoring the thick strands of semen sliding out of the boy’s ass and down his thighs. Readjusting his uniform, he looks to Jason who has been watching him, waiting.
“Get the tights off, then unhook him and bring him over here.” While he speaks, Jason is shifting forward on the couch, spreading his thighs so that his own weapon is jutting unobstructed towards his abdomen. At some point he’d removed the ruined jeans and attending underwear. Dark eyes are calm but expectant; he has no doubt that he will be obeyed.
Dick follows the dictations and sets to work on the unresisting form. Is…no, Tim is indeed still conscious, as evidenced by the little sounds that escape at the few teasing touches the other sneaks. Jason had said the boy would be used; so far the pair is being true to their word.
The eldest stops in front of Tim and using one hand to bring his head up and to the side so that he can nibble at the boy’s ear lobe, teasing. Endlessly teasing. His other hand reaches up and pulls the chain, slipping it off the ceiling hook. Strong arms support the boy when numb legs threatened to collapse, walking them over to the couch and the man waiting on it. As they get within arms reach, the youngest of the three locks his gaze on Jay‘s groin and moves like he might drop to his knees after another step. The shackled hands are in front of him now, trailing the chain, so it’s easy for him to reach up towards the gag he’s still wearing. Tired though he is, Tim still has his own thoughts about what should happen. He’s also forgotten that it’s Jason who is calling the shots.
There’s silent communication between the two older men then one of Dick’s gauntlets lands hard against the boy’s ass, snapping his wandering attention--and hands--back to where it should be.
“Turn him around and help him down.” While he’s giving his instructions, Jason has a hand on his length, moving it away from his body in some kind of lewd offering. Dick understands, but Tim is slower on the uptake, not that anyone can blame him. The slack, questioning expression watches Dick as he allows himself to be moved and supported. Then he feels it, the swollen flesh prodding his sloppy entrance. Still gagged, he can’t speak, can’t beg for them to stop, to let him rest. He can’t do anything but impale himself in one searing move. Both men are helping him make his legs cooperate, spreading him so that he is supported but also seating the invading cock is as deeply as possible. Without warning, Jason bucks his hips in a little roll that wrings a beautifully distraught sound from the boy on his lap.
Tim doesn’t know what to do with his still bounded hands or the chain attached. He’s haphazardly holding the metal before his chest, which is leaving his own groin fully exposed. Another roll of the man’s hips and another whimper. Dick’s lovely member is thick, but Jason is longer and pushes farther touching deep, secret things within that young body.
“We’re not done yet, Timmy. Remember your promise,” the words are whispered harshly into his ear before lips and teeth work over his neck, tasting the faint tang of perspiration and inhaling the scent of him.
His promise not to come. Surely he’s demanding the impossible. A third roll of the hips and he almost panics, so terrifyingly close to the edge. The bundle of chain is tossed to the side as he makes a frantic grab for his penis, but strong hands catch them before they can reach their objective.
Expression and sound plead with the man crouching between his legs to help him. He can’t do this on his own. Dick raises the boy’s hands to his lips and kisses them before pushing them up, looping the chain behind Jason’s neck, and the hands into the unruly black curls. Those deceptively slender fingers clutch at the hair as though to keep him from drowning.
The path clear once more; a calloused hand clutches the base of Tim’s dick as the hot mouth opens, allowing the wet tongue to flick out and over the head. Teasing, tasting, and hinting at the paradise that could be his. If he just gives in.
If…
Dick goes down on him while at the same time Jason begins a slow, tortuous rhythm of smoothly rocking, upward thrusts as a cruel hand constricts the boy‘s heavy sack. Tim throws his head back, leaning it on the crook of Jason’s shoulder even has his hands spasm in the other’s hair. There is a desperate keening sound as he is again denied his release by the hold on his most tender bits.
“Beautiful, sexy, perfect,” Jason intones to the sound of the boy’s wordless pleading and the action of Dick’s mouth. “You’re ours. Do you understand baby-bird? You belong to us.”
A strangled moan that might have been a “yes” and potentially more nodding. Two hands on his thighs are holding him down, preventing him from helping. A third is on his scrotum, pulling, rolling, preventing.
“Ours to use. Ours to torture. Ours to pleasure.”
Yes, yes, yes, every line of the boy’s body is screaming.
The thrusts redouble, shallower but so much faster, stealing Tim’s breath. Rather than have his teeth knocked out, Dick removes his mouth and shifts that strong hold so that he’s stroking the boy’s length. The rough, sharp motion timed to accent the other’s thrusts, yet still deny the needed release.
Jason has been close for a very long time now and the still impossibly tight heat of his brother’s abused ass is pushing his remaining control to its limits. He makes a decision. “Come for us, little brother.” Push, deeper, there, the sparks behind his eyelids begin to claim his nerves.
Dick lets go of his perfectly restrictive hold on Tim’s scrotum and length which is all it takes. Screaming through the gag with everything he has, the long denied release shoots, making obscene abstract images on the chest of the Nightwing uniform.
A few lingering bats declare their disapproval as a ragged shout disturbs the air of the Cave.
The sheer power of Tim’s release sends his ass spasming around the invading member, causing Jason to fall breathlessly over the edge. The feel of the hot milk is only vaguely registered as the boy goes boneless with his lassitude, relying on the hands hemming him in to keep him upright.
Dick has begun greedily sucking the now softening penis even as he works to keep his little brother from sliding to the floor.
Jason’s arms are iron bands around the slight body while he fights to regain a sense of his own body. Flexing his fingers he messages Tim’s thighs, waiting for Dick to finish up so he can vary carefully lift the limp form up and off before settling the boneless figure back on his lap. The lips are listlessly moving around the gag, though nothing can be heard. “Shhhhhh. You did good, baby-bird. You’re so incredible.”
Letting the other take the boy’s weight, Jason undid the gag, allowing it to fall to the ground.
Even boosting the auditory sensors, Bruce can’t make out the words. Whatever they are, they make something wonderful glow in Jason’s face and Dick is cooing soft encouragement as his large hands gently disengage the boy’s grip on his brother’s hair, soothingly stroking the tormented muscles as he coaxes them down into Tim’s lap. A small, pained sound fills the air.
Standing up Dick gathers Tim into his strong arms, holding him close as the utterly drained youngster curls up against his chest. “Bed?” He asked, though the answer is pretty much forgone at this point.
“Oh hell yeah,” Jason agreed, careful to stay off his injured leg as he climbed to his feet. “Heh. Might even give him back to Bruce later tonight.”
Dick is shaking his head. “Don’t have to, it’s Wednesday. He has the night off.”
This time the Cheshire cat grin is on both their faces.
“Someone better call my school,” a little voice mutters from the vicinity of Dick’s chest.
Bruce switches off the monitor and actively restrains himself from wincing. He pulls out some wet wipes from a drawer and cleans the telltale globs off the console. His track pants are a write off, no point in even laundering them since he didn’t feel like enduring one of Alfred’s knowing looks. Still, a little satisfied smile tries hard to quirk his lips upwards.
Tim had better be patrol-worthy on Thursday or he’d see about having a word with his sons.
~END~
Characters: Bruce, Dick/Jason/Tim
Rating: VERY NC-17
Warnings: Foul Language, Kinkiness and Rampant Bunny…er, Robin sex.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making money.
Length: 7480 words
Summery: Bruce gets an eyeful.
Acknowledgements: Thank you
mad4hana and lishel_francium for betaing.
Author’s Notes: this stand alone smut fest is the result of a plot bunny that
glitterandlube gave me and my promise to write it for her.
A quiet night in Gotham means an early turn in for the Dark Knight, which is something of a rare luxury. Even so there is much to be done in the Cave itself. Reports to be written, files to be updated. Usually these tasks fall to Robin, who is in fact very adept with all things electronic. Not only that, but Tim is extremely capable in regards to handling vast amounts of seemingly unrelated information. Right now, however, he’s currently out of town following the trail of some local thugs who have alarming ties to the Intergang. So Bruce did for himself.
Not a bad thing, really. Part of him appreciated the quietness in the Cave. The boy is a very good detective and soldier, something which Bruce takes much pride in. However, Tim is approaching the age where things start to get…difficult. It’s just safer for everyone concerned to keep him at arm’s length. Of course, Tim also seems to value the trust shown and freedom given with these solo missions, which is an added benefit.
When the necessary computer work is done he sits back with a little sigh. Bruce isn’t tired, not yet. If anything he’s feeling frustrated, something he berates himself for. After all a quiet night in his city, the place he’s sworn to protect, is a good thing; it’s what he works so diligently for. However it leaves him feeling disquiet and unsatisfied. If he’s absolutely honest with himself, something which he does his best to avoid whenever feasible, he can pinpoint the cause.
Bruce Wayne hasn’t had a date in a week. And with only a handful of low level thugs to beat up, he really needed…something. He pushes it to the back of his mind. The needs of his body have always been secondary to everything else in his life and tonight will be no different.
Stripping out of his costume takes time allowing him to think on what to do next. The Batmobile’s suspension could use work. Then there are the three different Batgadget projects in various states of completion on the work table. Or he can work out on the weight machines. Not to mention all the surveillance records he could check. There is never a lack of things to do. Is it any wonder that he sleeps as little as humanly possible?
It’s only 2am and there is a long way to go before his “night” is over. Much to Alfred’s disgust, he rarely seeks his bed before five in the morning.
Over the next two and a half hours he not only gets the new tracker completed, and the car’s struts replaced, he also writes a new algorithm to keep track of the comings and goings of certain Gotham personalities, not that there had been anything wrong with the old one. It’s just good to keep things current and advanced.
Sitting at the computer he decides to look in on his birds. Robin had said that he’d stay with Dick if things ran long. And Nightwing should be finished with his patrol by now, barring the unforeseen. His fingers typed out the commands without any conscious thought on his part. Checking on his boys--his family--is just another part of his night’s routine.
Twenty-nine, that’s how many cameras are situated in Dick’s Tower. Except not one of them showed him the person he seeks. Nothing to be alarmed about, his son had asked him to buy some proprieties to use as satellite lairs. He could be at one of those for any number of reasons. Of course, Bruce had all of them bugged as well, something Dick knows.
They’d talked about it once. Bruce had been ready to rebuff the young man’s anger only to have Dick give him a little smile and say that it reminded him of when Bruce would watch him sleep as a child. Apparently, that was a good thing.
Still nothing. He flipped through the locations, the corners of his lips turning down. Should he…? There, a door at the Columbus Avenue building that just opened. He switched back to that one in time to see Dick stumbling slightly under the weight of the person he’s helping inside. Someone with dark hair and broad shoulders, his head hanging down so that his face is obscured. One leg is dragging a bit. Zooming in, he can see the bloody gash through the ripped jeans, across the shin.
In the silent image, Nightwing’s lips are moving, encouraging the other? He toggled the audio signal.
“--andle the situation. And what was that? I mean a five year old could have--”
“Shuddup, Dickie-bird. Shit happens.”
Ah. Jason.
Bruce frowns. What had happened this time? Jason has mellowed, for lack of a better term, and by all accounts is making an effort to be one of the good guys again. The man spends a lot of time with Dick these days, which makes sense since they both live in Manhattan. Anyone other than Bruce or Tim would think them the worst of enemies the way they verbally and physically spar at any and all opportunities; of course such assumptions are quite erroneous.
It had taken time and a lot of work on both their parts, however the care they have for each other--no matter how well concealed--is genuine. Dick‘s words are the result of the concern he feels for his brother, rather than the rivalry many would suppose is the cause. He does the same with Bruce. Perhaps it has something to do with how he was raised. The Bat isn’t exactly the best role model.
Dick drops the wounded man on a couch and then heads off, presumably to get the first aid supplies, or rather, he tries to. A strong hand grabs him by the wrist, effectively stopping him. Thankfully the angle of the camera is good, or he might have missed how Jason’s thumb strokes the heel of Dick’s palm.
“Jason,” comes the exasperated admonishment. “Later.”
“Now.” A strong command is uttered in that single word.
Even with the white-out lenses in place, it’s clear that Dick is glaring at his house guest. “Later. You want to get gangrene in that leg of yours?”
“I’ll risk it.” Bruce doesn’t really have to look to know there is a smirk on the younger man’s face, as well as hearing the grunt of pain under the words.
“Like hell, you will. Sit. Stay. “ Jason just keeps holding him, smiling like the cat that had gotten the canary. “Fine. You let me doctor you and I’ll give you a blow job. Satisfied?” Even with the mask still in place, there can be no mistaking the long suffering tone.
“No. Do me now, then I’ll be too tired for anything else and you can play doctor all you want.” Jason has flipped up his own lenses; those dark blue eyes were smiling both beautifully and disturbingly under the mask. The detective part of Bruce’s mind is trying to unravel what’s happening, other than Jason’s obvious sex drive issues. Perhaps the wound isn’t as bad as it looks?
“Jason…” There a threat in the name. What it might be is left unsaid when the door opens again. A quick angle change shows Robin standing there. Dick looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Perfect timing, little brother. I need a hand here.”
Jason scowls. “Hey! I’m the one that needs a hand. Or a mouth. An ass would be good too, now that I think about it.”
Robin comes into the room, his shoulders rolled so that the cape conceals all but his tabi as he moves, the door shutting soundlessly behind him. Everything about his body language is wary skepticism. “Did he get dosed with something?” Tim’s mouth is a thin, disapproving line.
“Not that I know of. We had an ugly street brawl with some metas. Not even any interesting powers, just jacked up strength and the like.” Dick hit’s a pressure point on Jason’s wrist to make him let go and Jason…actually pouts? There’s no other way to describe it. “Can you please keep him still while I take care of that?” One hand gestures at the mangled mess of the right leg.
“Yeah, kid. C’mer.” There is definitely a leer on Jason’s face, made all the more obscene because he’s still wearing the red domino. For his part, the youngest of the three looks decidedly unimpressed. Yet, there is something else in his face. Calculations? The boy’s fingers easily release the catch of his cape which is dropped to one side.
“Fine. But you’re going to have to talk to me.” As he speaks, Robin is moving to straddle Jason’s thighs, carefully keeping himself high above the other’s groin.
“Didn’t know you liked dirty sex-talk, baby-bird.” Yes, there is something off about the expression, an unnatural calmness under the lecherous countenance.
Tim lets that one pass, he knows it’s safer not to feed into the other’s behavior. “Why are you behaving like you’re on a sex pollen high?” Calm, analytical and to the point.
“Wha? Oh. Meditation thingy. More like self-hypnosis.” His hands are roaming Robin’s suit, clearly trying to undo the catches.
“Explain.”
“Well….oh.” There is a flash of pain on Jay’s face which quickly mutates into a self-satisfied smile. “Fuck…yeah.” Whatever else he might have expressed is clearly not nearly as important as getting his hands into Tim’s spiky hair and pulling him down for a thorough tonsil check. Interestingly, Tim doesn’t resist.
Ah, that might have something to do with it; Dick is crouched on the floor. The pant leg has been cut to reveal the extent of the damage as he carefully picks bits of debris out of the ragged wound before moving to properly disinfect it. Thus Tim is doing his best to make sure that Jay does in fact stay still. The former Red Hood is making a litany of odd sounds that are somewhat between pain and lust as he kisses Tim deeply, his hands grabbing at the boy’s scalp and neck encouragingly.
“Almost there,” Dick says after a little while, to no one in particular, as he picks over the contents of the first aid kit. Tim takes this as the cue to come up for air and again tries to question his brother.
“Self-hypnosis?”
“Mmmm.” Jay’s eyes are closed as he licks his lips. “Yeah. Tricks the mind into treating pain signals as something else.” Bruce raises an eyebrow as he watches the scene. Jay never cared for the more mental aspects of his training as Robin.
“Sex,” Tim concludes unnecessarily
“’xactly.”
At the same time, Dick yells. “Hey! Leave the hips out of it!” Jason apparently bucked upwards vying for the contact which his little brother is wilfully denying him.
The eyes are open again. “Make me,” he challenges Dick. He’s clearly itching for a battle of wills. Instead of giving it to him, Dick tries again to bribe him into good behavior.
“I’ll help you tie up Tim once I’m done,” Nightwing offers in an oddly neutral but suggestive tone.
Tim goes very, very still. “No Robin bondage.” The infliction of the words allow for no argument. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t seem that anyone is listening.
The uncooperative patient is licking his lips as he considers that offer. “Deal.”
“I said, no Robin bondage,” Tim reiterates firmly.
“Yeah yeah, sure,” Jay pronounces distractedly as his wandering hands again seek to bring the boy in for another deep, hot kiss. This time Tim resists, but it’s a token effort at best.
Down on the floor Dick is freezing the damaged tissue before beginning to stitch it. It really is a mess. Bruce is a little surprised that the bone isn’t shattered.
Tim has to work to keep Jason’s attention on his mouth, rather than trying for other kinds of stimulation. It would seem the boy is proving effectively distracting given the way the other is latched on to him, as well as Dick’s eventual exclamation of triumph.
“Done. You can let him up, Tim.”
“Nuh-uh.” The boy’s efforts to move away are halted by a strong arm about his waist. “Not yet he can’t. And you…” Jason gives Dick’s groin a nudge with his good foot. “Keep your word.”
There is an abortive sound from Tim before he’s being kissed again. Obviously Tim isn’t the only one that is being effectively distracting. Or perhaps it’s become a contest? Tim lowers himself, spreading his thighs so that he can rub the armoured shorts against Jason’s groin. At this angle it can’t be anything more than a tease, which is likely the point. Jay’s hips buck, only too happy to tease right back, keeping his little partner’s attention fully on their antics.
Bruce can see Dick moving silently about the large room. He puts the first aid kit back in its cubby, then seems to be searching for something. No, several somethings. Bruce frowns when he can’t get a good visual of his hands. He’s not entirely sure why he’s still observing the three, since Jason has been effectively patched up.
Well, that’s not entirely true, he does know on some level.
For all that he says he doesn’t blame Bruce for letting him die, there are a great many things Jason does indeed blame his adoptive father for. Because of this, it’s been prudent for Bruce to leave him to his own devices rather than reopening old wounds. Nightwing gives him regular reports on how he’s doing, but that’s really not enough. So he watches, trying to learn more about the boy that used to fight beside him, then fought against him. Seeing how he interacts with his brothers is one more clue to understanding him and maybe, eventually, reconnecting with him.
With that subconscious rationalization firmly rooted, he keeps his eyes on the screen. Dick is standing at the couch, behind Tim. There is a sound that could only be called an indigent squawk from the boy before he’s turning around and glaring at Dick. The phrase “if looks could kill” is very appropriate, not that it fazes the elder brother in the slightest. If anything, the Cheshire cat grin only widens.
Another camera angle shows that Robin’s arms have been pulled behind his back in a set of cuffs. Fuzzy cuffs. With a quick catch ratcheting mechanism. Not exactly part of the standard equipment.
“What are you doing?” the youngest of the three asks in an impressively menacing voice, which matches his very cold expression perfectly.
Dick seems extremely pleased with the situation. “Just keeping my promise, little brother.” He reaches a hand out and ruffles the boy’s hair, probably just to get that delightfully pissed off look from Tim.
“Take them off Dick. Now.” He’s putting everything he has into his Robin voice and for a split second Nightwing looks to be…considering the idea that he’s miscalculated. It’s a situation that doesn’t last long.
“You’re the one that allowed him to get them on, Timmy,” Jason croons. His hands are working on getting inside the waistband of the tights. It might be because of the seeking fingers, or the words spoken, but whatever the reason the boy has no comeback for that. In any case they all know that he has the skill to get out of the restraints if he really wants to.
There, Jason is pushing down the shorts and tights, removing the jock, just enough to allow Tim’s erection to spring free though only barely. Now he’s being constrained by the edge of his suit and one of Jason’s hands which is determinedly feeling him up. Clearly, the boy is trying very hard not to thrust into the other’s touch. Evidently he intends to be contrary to the end.
“Ya see, the thing about our little bird here, is that he bitches about not wanting something in order to get what he’s bitching about,” Jason explains magnanimously as if he’d just disclosed one of the great secrets of the universe. He’s smiling broadly, though it’s hard to tell if it because of his revelation or the fact that Tim just gave an abortive buck into his touch.
As all this occurs, Dick is quietly moving around, preparing for the next phase of their plans. Plans which Tim seems to have momentarily forgotten about. Then he’s being pulled off Jason’s lap, his confusion is evident as well as his bereavement when the hand leaves his groin. He’s less then graceful about getting his feet under him, but that’s excusable given the way he’s being manhandled backwards and the constraint of the durable fabric around his thighs. Dick snaps a length of chain between the cuffs, giving the boy greater freedom of movement but still definitively binding him. The reason for this becomes apparent as he lifts Tim’s arms above his head and hooks the end of the length to a catch set in the ceiling.
Tim is twisting and moving, rotating his shoulders, and then Dick hitches it up a few more links. The chain is just long enough that the boy can almost get his heels down. Almost. Hands flex in the cuffs and he’s glancing around. Bruce can practically see him cataloguing everything that is within the immediate area and how it can be used as a distraction and/or a weapon while he works to free himself. Not that he’s going to utilize his training in this, it’s just a habit. Good boy, Bruce thinks to himself approvingly.
“Is he secure?” Jay wants to know, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of what is being done to his youngest sibling.
“Yup,” Dick pronounces with a happy grin. “Sooooo….” He eyes Jason’s leg wearily, clearly unsure how to proceed. It wouldn’t do for the man to aggravate his injury.
“Get over here, Dick. You’ve got another promise to keep.” Bruce notices how his middle son deliberately shifts his leg. Is he actually making it twinge, even through the freezing, to activate his self-hypnosis? Perhaps he has some masochistic tendencies? In any case, the resulting expression is downright sexy and Dick can’t help but move to stand in front of the other before dropping to his knees. Nothing is said as he pops the button and fly of the jeans. Jason shifts his hips helpfully as Nightwing works to pull out the engorged length.
“Ohhh, fuck. That’s good, Dickie,” Jason declares, his eyes slitting closed as his body tenses and shifts infinitesimally. “Give baby-bird a really good show.”
For his part, Tim is standing there, doing his best to glare at his brothers but the flexing hands are betraying his interest, as does the hard penis that is rising above his disarrayed tights.
Dick is taking the honouring of his word very seriously as one hand is wrapped around the base of Jason’s impressive cock and leans in to lick at the flared mushroom head, causing his brother’s breathing to quicken. Then he goes all the way down in one smooth, practiced move. Cheeks hallowing out, lips carefully covering his teeth, he fucks his mouth worshipfully on the prize.
Hands are in his thick black hair and now Jason’s hips begin to piston, taking control of the situation as little groans and grunts escape him. One look at his face shows the ecstasy he’s experiencing. It doesn’t last long before there is a shout and shudder hailing his enthusiastic release. Dick manages not to let a drop escape his ravenous mouth. He pulls off just long enough to catch his breath before going back down and carefully cleaning the other with his dexterous tongue.
Change cameras and, yes, Dick is very clearly enjoying himself. Perhaps even more so then Jason is, if that’s possible. Behind them Tim is working very hard to keep his breathing even.
“Oh, very nice,” Jason says after a long moment, his eyes closed, his head resting on the back of the couch as he licks his lips. A sound comes through the electronics that is suspiciously something like a purr. Dick is purring? He is indeed as he nuzzles the sensitive flesh of Jason’s inner thigh. A short time later, strong hands are cupping Dick’s face, making him rise up a little. “Go play with Tim while I catch my breath.” However, before releasing his brother so that he can follow the order, Jason leans in and plunders Dick’s willing mouth, tasting him thoroughly.
“Mmmm.” With something close to reluctance, Jason lets go and gives a little push. Dick’s trademark grin is back as he gains his feet and heads over to the dangling form of one dishevelled Robin. He has to lower himself a little to capture the boy’s lips with his own. It’s interesting to watch the way Tim moves in his restraints as he undulates and tries to get closer to the man before him, to deepen the kiss in an effort to get the last lingering flavour of Jason’s seed. This part he obviously has no misgivings about.
The man on the couch is watching this with a very self-satisfied smile on his face, content to let them enjoy each others’ mouths. Then the smile turns positively evil. “Hey Dickie, have you ever spanked your little brother?” When the question registers, both vigilantes halted their explorations. Dick is looking over his shoulder curiously, but Tim is back to trying to glare scathing death at Jason.
“Can’t say that I have,” the eldest admits, tone and expression considering.
“No. Not happening,” Robin says, pulling away as definitively as he can given his current situation.
“Go on, pull his pants down and put your gauntlets back on,” Jason instructs with something that sounds suspiciously like firsthand knowledge. Dick of course had removed the armoured gloves while tending his brother’s wound.
“Don’t,” Tim repeated, a clear warning.
Dick is biting his lip, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Tim, then looking to Jason. The middle brother’s expression is confident and authorative. A moment later Dick nods and heads to the side table where the gauntlets are. Slipping them back on he flexes his hands, making them settle properly. The entire time, Tim is watching him and swinging a little in his bonds as he works to…something. He doesn’t seem to be actually trying to get free, though his face isn’t what the casual observer would call happy.
Tim spins a little as he tries to keep Dick from moving behind him. “Don’t you DARE, Dick.”
There, Dick has also noticed that Tim isn’t actively working to gain his freedom. He smiles warmly, almost reassuringly which doesn’t quite fit the situation. “Shhhh, little brother. Jay gave you a show; it’s only fair to return the favour.” A hand snakes out and snags Tim about the waist so that he can keep him from moving. Then the other hand is pulling the shorts and tights down to his knees, fully exposing the leanly muscled backside.
Dick moves his gloved hands over the firm ass cheeks massaging them in a way that has Tim fighting back the little sounds he clearly wants to make. The the boy is grinding his teeth and remaining as still as he possibly can. When the first smack lands, a surprised gasp traitorously escapes his lips. The exposed penis jumps, hardening a little more. He jerks again as the second blow lands, his body making it obvious that the attention is not entirely unwanted. However Tim remains determined to be contrary. He grabs the chain attached to cuffs and pulls himself up, taking his feet off the floor, clearly hoping to deprive the man of the leverage he needs to makes the hits effective.
That hope is dashed when the strong arm returns about his waist and takes care of the problem; as the next swat lands, there is an audible gasp. Then the words start.
“I’m going to hurt you really, really, badly Dick. Both of you. Then I’m going to dress you up in frilly baby girl clothes and take pictures.”
“You’ll probably have to gag the little shit,” Jason comments helpfully.
“You. Shut. UP!” Robin all but screams at him. This of course only makes the incorrigible one smirk even more, ever so pleased with the reaction. Whatever else Tim might have threatened them with goes unspoken as he’s writhing under a sequence of quick swats, each one falling in a new and unpredictable location that is clearly enflaming his arousal.
Dick leaves him to hang there, panting, as he goes to find something to use as a gag. So far Jason’s suggestion have been very good ones, which means he’s probably right about this too. Exactly how many of Tim’s kinks does the second Robin know about? And how?
At some point it occurs to Tim that a) his tactics hadn’t worked and b) Nightwing isn’t behind him any more so he lowers his feet back to the ground. Now it’s very obvious exactly how hard he is. Jason has noticed and is licking his lips suggestively as he lightly traces his fingers over his own semi-hard length. “Gorgeous little fucker.”
This of course makes Tim scowl and resume glaring.
When Dick returns he not only has a length of fabric but also a bottle of something. Lube most likely since he is thinking ahead rather than simply following orders. The tube gets set on the floor and then Dick is moving quickly, slipping the cloth between Tim’s teeth and tying it securely even as the other tries to buck and spin. The boy is chewing resistively on the gag; the white out lenses of mask only serve to increase the threat in his expression.
There is no perfunctory stroking this time, no warning before the gloved hand strikes the unprotected ass. The young body bucks but even more delightful is the sound that emerges around the gag and the look on Tim’s face. It’s likely a safe bet that his eyes are closed behind the mask now. Another blow and he’s leaning into them, making sounds of want and need. His torrid member is quickly on the way to a painfully hard state, bobbing enthusiastically with every blow.
Jason is now stroking himself, shifting his hips as he watches. Bruce is fascinated by how the gag is the trigger that allows Tim to let go and just feel. Now, as the boy takes the heavy swats he is moaning almost continuously, his head hanging forward in the rare moments of rest between strikes. The image he presents is truly arousing in its own right, suspended and helpless, at the mercy of his brothers’ desires.
Nor is it only Tim who is deriving his pleasure from their foreplay. Jay is watching the youngest as he writhes, mewling with need and want, a positively predatory expression on the man’s face as he continued to slowly, lingeringly stroke himself back to life. For his part, Dick shows every sign of getting into the new found role as he begins to add flourishes to his motions, actively seeking new ways to gain the delightful reactions from his victim. His other fingers have since been pushed up under the tunic and are tormenting a nipple while he takes a break, allowing the punishing hand to caress the boy’s exposed crack. The actions send shivers throughout Tim’s body, making him jerk and rattle the chain as his erection produces pearls of pre-ejaculate.
Bruce is steadily ignoring the fact that one of his own hands is pushing past the drawstrings of his track pants, the tips of his fingers caressing the arousal waiting there as he eyes remained glued to the monitor.
Jason licks his lips and closes his eyes briefly before looking at the sight before him. “Lube up your finger Dick.” The man questions to his brother with a look. “Yeah, leave the glove on.” At that, Tim all but convulses with the moan that works its way around the gag. “You’re going to get well fucked, baby-bird,” the second Robin says very deliberately, watching for the reaction it elicits: an uncontrollable gulp and the excited twitching of his eager, and not particularly small, appendage.
“We’re going to start slow. One finger…” Dick takes the cue for what it is and slowly inserts the finger he’s prepared. There are harsh, ragged sounds as the bounded boy breathes through his nose, ass cheeks clenching tightly against the invader. “Still fighting?” The idea seems to amuse Jason.
“Jesus, Tim.” That’s Dick as he makes a concentrated effort to get the single digit into the tight heat. “Don’t…”
“It’s his thing, Dick. He’s a very bad boy, you know. Always fighting, never listening. You’re going to have to make him accept it. Show him that it’s better to give in.” Jason’s words have as much, if not more, of an effect on the captive youth than the hard, cool gloved finger inside his ass. Something like a mangled keening sound emerges around the cloth barrier.
Dick has his palm resting on one firm, fleshy globe as his finger pumps deeper within Tim’s tight hole. Searching….searching. There! Tim bucks hard, screaming into the gag as his prostate is struck.
“Don’t you fucking DARE come, Kid. Do you hear me?” Jay says, his voice more a growl than anything else which has Tim nodding franticly but also looking very worried. The man sees it as well and frowns a little. “Can you hold off, baby-bird?” This nod is far more hesitant, not to mention distracted as Dick works his ass, changing the angle, the depth, finding new sensations to deluge him with. “Do you need help to do as you’re told?” The third nod is almost unperceivable and the body slumps a little as the finger inside stills for a moment. Breathing, just breathing seems to be a lot of work for the boy.
Dick is watching for direction, which Jason has absolutely no problem providing. “Hold him, Dick. Help him with his control.” The smile is a little uncertain, but the hand under the tunic slides lower, teasing the tautly muscled stomach and abdomen. The fingertips skirt the boy’s groin, instead tickling the sensitive skin of the thigh. Tim looks to be almost panicking, fighting his own body’s reaction which is perilously close to disobeying the order he’s been given.
Taking pity on him, Dick places a rough, constricting hold of the eager penis. Tim pushes back in the restraints until he’s resting against the other’s chest, which also pushes the finger farther into him. More small, delicious sounds ensue as the boy begins working himself between the two sensations.
“Stop that, you greedy little shit. We decide, not you.” Jason has a very cross look on his face now, but Tim isn’t stopping. The middle brother motions to Dick and Tim whimpers, biting down on the gag as the hand on his penis tightens cruelly; his efforts cease. Another look passes between the two men and the bounded form is sent shifting and wriggling as a second armoured finger is added to the first. “How tight is he?
“Incredibly tight,” Dick replies with obvious admiration. “This is going to take work.” Work he’s already started engaging in, if the acute panting and shaking legs are any indication.
“You want him to work you hard,” Jason states, his eyes on the boy with hungry appraisal. Blue eyes take in the beauty of the straining body being pushed and made to feel its own helpless pleasure, something which is only accentuated by the forceful words. “You need it, baby-bird. You have such tight control that you don’t know how to let go. That’s why you need us, Timmy. We’ll make you let go. It won’t be your doing, not your fault.”
Dick is scissoring his fingers now and it’s difficult to tell if it’s his administrations or the other’s words that are what is driving the boy closer and closer to the edge Dick’s grip denies him. Perhaps a combination of both.
“That’ll be enough. Enter him.” An order and by now, Dick is used to it but that couldn’t possibly be enough prep, could it? Tim’s sensual passage should be slick, true, but oh so tight. Still, still… Both hands leave Tim’s body causing a distressed sound to wrestle itself free of his throat before the teenager sags. The white out lens of the domino look to Jason, a plea in every line of his face.
The older man shifts in a way that spoke of a desire to leave the couch, but he doesn’t, instead settling himself as he continues to tease his own length. “Hold it together, Kid. We’re going to make it very good,” he promises, the voice both commanding and soothing. Another little nod from Tim, then a gulp as both of Dick’s hands pry the ass cheeks apart, letting the air tickle the exposed entrance before the thick shaft nudges him. There is a choked sound when the muscle reflexively clenches against what they all know are to come.
The acrobat is gritting his teeth as he presses forward, hanging tenuously onto his control in the face of the sweetness waiting. Twin yells. One of triumph and one of startled…Pain? Resignation? From the couch an appreciative groan arises. None of the three can hear an answering sound that occurs in a cave some two hundred or so miles south-west.
Panting, Dick is finally fully sheathed. One hand slips back around and takes hold of the boy’s needful hard-on.
“Yeah, like that, Dickie-Bird,” Jason encourages. “Use that sweet ass to get yourself off. But don’t let our dear little fuck toy come. Not…” He closes his eyes and his hand stills on his own length, clearly pulling himself back. “Yet.”
A moan, no two. One is deep and guttural, the other high and thready. Then panting, a nasal sound. Tim’s nostrils flare as he tries to get air in his lungs. Dick’s hips are moving sharp and fast, even as he once more resumes the iron grip at the base of his partner’s tortured shaft. The man’s face is a delightful mix of concentration and slack abandonment.
Tim can do nothing beyond making those incredible noises as he’s forced to take the exquisitely brutal pounding. The other hand is on his hip, tight enough it’s quite possible there will be bruises, holding him still. It doesn’t matter what Robin may or may not want to do. At this moment, it’s all about Dick and his need to reach a dizzying completion.
When he comes, it’s ever so hard, violent almost and accompanied by a possessive growl. Bruce clamps down on his own length, denying the same pleasure to himself.
Leaning in, riding the endorphin high, Dick bites the corded muscle of Tim’s neck, causing the other to buck hard, hanging his head forward to expose more of the flesh. The soft, pink tongue comes out to sooth the not quite wound.
Jason is barely touching himself at all as he watches the show he’s so clearly enjoying, a smug little smile on his face. Anything more than the barest caress will send him over the edge and that’s not what he wants. Not yet, and certainly not by his own hand.
Both of those before Jay are currently trying to relearn how to breathe. It’s a long couple of heartbeats before the older man slowly pulls out with an obscenely wet sound. Only after his flaccid self has left the other’s body does he take his hand off Tim’s penis which is now an almost alarming color as well as rock hard. No longer supported by the other in any way, the adolescent sags in his bindings as weariness wars with his body’s desperate need.
They left him to recover like that, an action which is hard to understand. Are they being unimaginably cruel or taking pity on Tim? Nightwing is cleaning himself up, studiously ignoring the thick strands of semen sliding out of the boy’s ass and down his thighs. Readjusting his uniform, he looks to Jason who has been watching him, waiting.
“Get the tights off, then unhook him and bring him over here.” While he speaks, Jason is shifting forward on the couch, spreading his thighs so that his own weapon is jutting unobstructed towards his abdomen. At some point he’d removed the ruined jeans and attending underwear. Dark eyes are calm but expectant; he has no doubt that he will be obeyed.
Dick follows the dictations and sets to work on the unresisting form. Is…no, Tim is indeed still conscious, as evidenced by the little sounds that escape at the few teasing touches the other sneaks. Jason had said the boy would be used; so far the pair is being true to their word.
The eldest stops in front of Tim and using one hand to bring his head up and to the side so that he can nibble at the boy’s ear lobe, teasing. Endlessly teasing. His other hand reaches up and pulls the chain, slipping it off the ceiling hook. Strong arms support the boy when numb legs threatened to collapse, walking them over to the couch and the man waiting on it. As they get within arms reach, the youngest of the three locks his gaze on Jay‘s groin and moves like he might drop to his knees after another step. The shackled hands are in front of him now, trailing the chain, so it’s easy for him to reach up towards the gag he’s still wearing. Tired though he is, Tim still has his own thoughts about what should happen. He’s also forgotten that it’s Jason who is calling the shots.
There’s silent communication between the two older men then one of Dick’s gauntlets lands hard against the boy’s ass, snapping his wandering attention--and hands--back to where it should be.
“Turn him around and help him down.” While he’s giving his instructions, Jason has a hand on his length, moving it away from his body in some kind of lewd offering. Dick understands, but Tim is slower on the uptake, not that anyone can blame him. The slack, questioning expression watches Dick as he allows himself to be moved and supported. Then he feels it, the swollen flesh prodding his sloppy entrance. Still gagged, he can’t speak, can’t beg for them to stop, to let him rest. He can’t do anything but impale himself in one searing move. Both men are helping him make his legs cooperate, spreading him so that he is supported but also seating the invading cock is as deeply as possible. Without warning, Jason bucks his hips in a little roll that wrings a beautifully distraught sound from the boy on his lap.
Tim doesn’t know what to do with his still bounded hands or the chain attached. He’s haphazardly holding the metal before his chest, which is leaving his own groin fully exposed. Another roll of the man’s hips and another whimper. Dick’s lovely member is thick, but Jason is longer and pushes farther touching deep, secret things within that young body.
“We’re not done yet, Timmy. Remember your promise,” the words are whispered harshly into his ear before lips and teeth work over his neck, tasting the faint tang of perspiration and inhaling the scent of him.
His promise not to come. Surely he’s demanding the impossible. A third roll of the hips and he almost panics, so terrifyingly close to the edge. The bundle of chain is tossed to the side as he makes a frantic grab for his penis, but strong hands catch them before they can reach their objective.
Expression and sound plead with the man crouching between his legs to help him. He can’t do this on his own. Dick raises the boy’s hands to his lips and kisses them before pushing them up, looping the chain behind Jason’s neck, and the hands into the unruly black curls. Those deceptively slender fingers clutch at the hair as though to keep him from drowning.
The path clear once more; a calloused hand clutches the base of Tim’s dick as the hot mouth opens, allowing the wet tongue to flick out and over the head. Teasing, tasting, and hinting at the paradise that could be his. If he just gives in.
If…
Dick goes down on him while at the same time Jason begins a slow, tortuous rhythm of smoothly rocking, upward thrusts as a cruel hand constricts the boy‘s heavy sack. Tim throws his head back, leaning it on the crook of Jason’s shoulder even has his hands spasm in the other’s hair. There is a desperate keening sound as he is again denied his release by the hold on his most tender bits.
“Beautiful, sexy, perfect,” Jason intones to the sound of the boy’s wordless pleading and the action of Dick’s mouth. “You’re ours. Do you understand baby-bird? You belong to us.”
A strangled moan that might have been a “yes” and potentially more nodding. Two hands on his thighs are holding him down, preventing him from helping. A third is on his scrotum, pulling, rolling, preventing.
“Ours to use. Ours to torture. Ours to pleasure.”
Yes, yes, yes, every line of the boy’s body is screaming.
The thrusts redouble, shallower but so much faster, stealing Tim’s breath. Rather than have his teeth knocked out, Dick removes his mouth and shifts that strong hold so that he’s stroking the boy’s length. The rough, sharp motion timed to accent the other’s thrusts, yet still deny the needed release.
Jason has been close for a very long time now and the still impossibly tight heat of his brother’s abused ass is pushing his remaining control to its limits. He makes a decision. “Come for us, little brother.” Push, deeper, there, the sparks behind his eyelids begin to claim his nerves.
Dick lets go of his perfectly restrictive hold on Tim’s scrotum and length which is all it takes. Screaming through the gag with everything he has, the long denied release shoots, making obscene abstract images on the chest of the Nightwing uniform.
A few lingering bats declare their disapproval as a ragged shout disturbs the air of the Cave.
The sheer power of Tim’s release sends his ass spasming around the invading member, causing Jason to fall breathlessly over the edge. The feel of the hot milk is only vaguely registered as the boy goes boneless with his lassitude, relying on the hands hemming him in to keep him upright.
Dick has begun greedily sucking the now softening penis even as he works to keep his little brother from sliding to the floor.
Jason’s arms are iron bands around the slight body while he fights to regain a sense of his own body. Flexing his fingers he messages Tim’s thighs, waiting for Dick to finish up so he can vary carefully lift the limp form up and off before settling the boneless figure back on his lap. The lips are listlessly moving around the gag, though nothing can be heard. “Shhhhhh. You did good, baby-bird. You’re so incredible.”
Letting the other take the boy’s weight, Jason undid the gag, allowing it to fall to the ground.
Even boosting the auditory sensors, Bruce can’t make out the words. Whatever they are, they make something wonderful glow in Jason’s face and Dick is cooing soft encouragement as his large hands gently disengage the boy’s grip on his brother’s hair, soothingly stroking the tormented muscles as he coaxes them down into Tim’s lap. A small, pained sound fills the air.
Standing up Dick gathers Tim into his strong arms, holding him close as the utterly drained youngster curls up against his chest. “Bed?” He asked, though the answer is pretty much forgone at this point.
“Oh hell yeah,” Jason agreed, careful to stay off his injured leg as he climbed to his feet. “Heh. Might even give him back to Bruce later tonight.”
Dick is shaking his head. “Don’t have to, it’s Wednesday. He has the night off.”
This time the Cheshire cat grin is on both their faces.
“Someone better call my school,” a little voice mutters from the vicinity of Dick’s chest.
Bruce switches off the monitor and actively restrains himself from wincing. He pulls out some wet wipes from a drawer and cleans the telltale globs off the console. His track pants are a write off, no point in even laundering them since he didn’t feel like enduring one of Alfred’s knowing looks. Still, a little satisfied smile tries hard to quirk his lips upwards.
Tim had better be patrol-worthy on Thursday or he’d see about having a word with his sons.
~END~