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The alarm clicks off with a soft snick. Tim slips through the bedroom door silently, creeping along to the side of the bed.
Wayne manor is silent. Bruce, Batman, breathes softly in his unconscious state. Exhausted from a night of crime-fighting, hypervigilance relaxed with the tiniest bit of chemical intervention. Sleeping pills slipped into his post-patrol snack.
He'll be asleep for a while yet, at this stage of his REM cycle.
Tim pads closer to the bed, admiring the perfect angles of Bruce's jaw and throat. The softly shut eyes and beautifully long lashes, his whole demeanor softened in restful dreams.
The camera he lifts from around his neck is smaller than his usual, more pocket-sized, but equally familiar. He flips the settings to nighttime without needing to check the placement of his fingers.
Bruce lay perfectly in the center of his viewfinder, bare all the way down to where the blanket covers his pelvis. The comforter has fallen to the floor, leaving only the thin sheet to retain his modesty. He could be an angel, a renaissance painting.
A soft snap and the moment is immortalized, stored safely in the sim card of his camera. Later, he'll print it out and place it with the others. For now, it's safe there.
This is all out of necessity, because Bruce needs it— because Batman needs it. This is just another part of Robin's duties. It's only fair that his little helper gets to take a souvenir, a tiny photo documenting the occasion for only Tim's eyes to see. And maybe Bruce's, if Tim ever gets the honor of showing him.
As silently as he's able, he sets the tiny camera on the bedside table and strips out of his clothes until he's left in only his panties. Already, the pretty fabric is damp— his cunny soaking itself at the mere thought of what's to come.
Carefully, he lifts the covers and slides beneath them, tucking himself into the crook of Bruce's arm and side like a beloved pet. A beloved son. The heartbeat beneath his ear is steady and strong in sleep, Bruce's bare chest rising and falling slowly.
Tim can't help but stay there for a moment, indulging. Dreams have started and ended like this. Wrapped in the strong arms of The Batman, safe from worldly harm, a soft cock pressed against his hip. So loved, so wanted.
He tucks his nose into the thatch of hair in Bruce's armpit and takes a deep breath. The scent is musky and masculine, divine. Between his legs, his cunt pulses, growing hotter with just the smell. He shoves a hand down to cup himself, a choked-off whine escaping his throat.
Brucie smells like expensive cologne. Product. Expensive, but fake. The Batman smells like leather and sweat, a bit of blood. Dangerous, a warning to beware. But Bruce Wayne smells like home: warm, spicy, and manly.
Tim can't get enough. If he could stay here huffing this scent and humping his own hand like a stupid little puppy forever, he would die happy. But this isn't about him or what he wants. It's about what Bruce needs.
Tim shifts, tossing a leg over one of Bruce's massive tree trunk thighs, and sits up. Too gently, too softly to be a massage, he runs his hands from the hem of Bruce's sleep pants to his clavicle and back down again, tweaking his nipples as he goes.
He trails soft kisses up and down Bruce's torso, just touching. Trying to warm the body beneath him, prime his erogenous zones. Suckling one stiff little nub into his mouth, he reaches to pinch and play with the unoccupied side. The cock pressed into his thigh twitches with the stimulation, taking interest.
He holds the little nub between his teeth as he sucks, a hot throb in his lower abdomen. Wonders at the idea of being Bruce's real son— Born from his womb, held to his tit as his beloved babe, allowed to suckle down a bellyful of milk, and petted with the softness of new parents’ awe. If he could have been loved so deeply.
Impossible though it may be, the idea brings a gasp to Tim's lips, a shiver down his spine as he grinds his hot little cunt on Bruce's thick thigh. Drenching his panties even further in pussy juice, the wet fabric clinging to his folds. Sparks of pleasure alight behind his shut eyelids.
He whimpers, turning his nose into Bruce's armpit where it's safe against the onslaught of feeling. It's delicious, but it isn't enough friction.
Even as he jerks his hips roughly against the massive thigh between his legs, he wants to reach down and give himself a little rub, make himself come like the needy slut he is. One, tiny little touch and he'd drench his clothes and Bruce's thigh with his cum—
But there are rules to this. He knows he isn't allowed to touch himself. Isn't allowed to make this about him. With one last wiggle and a sad little whimper, Tim forces himself to stop.
A dribble of pre wells up on the tip of Bruce's now fully erect cock. He wipes the mess away with his panties, the thick head rubbing between his pussy lips and nudging against his little clitty.
Giving one last kiss to puffy nipples, he works his way down between Bruce's legs. Making a space for himself where he belongs, caged comfortably at eye level to cum-heavy balls.
The scent is stronger here. He wraps his hands around the thick shaft, stroking steadily and pressing his lips to the wet, spongy tip. It's not his first time by any means, but taking such a large cock is always a bit of a challenge at the start.
He sucks at the thick head, dipping his tongue into the little hole where the messy stuff comes out. As he rubs the rest of the shaft with his hands, more pre drips onto his tongue. He swallows it greedily.
On the next suck, he takes a little more, then a little more and more— until the cockhead hits the back of his throat. He takes a deep breath, sucking steadily, before taking the rest.
The first time he tried this, he gagged after taking only a little. But eventually, with enough practice, he's able to take the whole thing.
Batman groans softly in sleep as Tim bottoms out, nose buried in wiry hairs and the huge cock nestled fully in his tight throat hole. He lifts himself up to the tip and then drops himself down again without waiting to adjust, as hard as he can manage.
Fucking his throat pussy with Batman's cock, spit and drool coating everything in a thin shine. Wet sucking, gagging sounds follow every movement. If Tim had any air for it, he'd moan. As it is, he keeps bobbing his head roughly up and down—
Careful to cover his teeth and not swallow, allowing spit to pool in his sloppy mouth. Making a mess, so the slide is easier later. He's the one that has to clean it up, anyway.
A hand passes through his hair, startling him— a quick glance upwards proves Bruce remains asleep, chest rising and falling quickly, mouth open and panting even as his eyes remain shut.
The hand tightens into his hair, holding him in place while Bruce's hips thrust— cock pounding into Tim's little throat, balls slapping his chin. He finally gags, the hand not in his hair wrapping around his throat. Squeezing, holding him more securely in place.
A whine slips out, the rough treatment going straight to Tim's pussy. He's probably drenching the fucking sheets at this point, a little pool of pussyjuice beneath his hips.
By chance, he glances up again— and finds sleep-hazed blue eyes staring straight at him.
Tim wails, back arching and his pussy spasming as he comes hard just from that look and the big cock slamming into his throat.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Bruce rasps, “that's all it takes to make you come?”
His hips slow, and he tugs Tim off to let him gasp for air. Large hands run gentle fingers through Tim's hair, combing through the mess.
Tim melts into the comfort as he pants for air, trying his best to focus his vision so he can see Bruce's smirk. Then he remembers that Bruce hasn't come yet, and whimpers. Straining towards the still hard, wet cock he's been denied. Tongue sticking out like a whore, trying to lick up the pearls of precum that should be in his tummy right now.
“Don't worry, baby,” Bruce grunts, tugging Tim up his body. They lay face-to-sternum, with his hands squeezing Tim's ass hard enough to bruise. “I'll still give it to you if you need it that bad, hm? Fuck it nice and deep into your little baby boy cunt.”
“Yes, yes, thank you, please,” Tim whimpers, clinging tightly with his arms around Batman's neck. His hips hump down against Bruce's bare cock like a horny little puppy. “It's yours, your pussy, fill me up, please, dump your cum in me!”
Bruce groans, tugging Tim's cute little frilly panties to the side and lining up his cock to that sweet fuckhole. In one smooth thrust he's fit the whole massive thing inside.
Tim's whiny moans cut off abruptly, all the air fucked out of him. They come back louder, bouncing sweetly with the rough thrusts. Almost as loud as the wet smacks of skin-on-skin.
“Ah, fuck! Thank you! Thank you!” Tim wails, nails scratching up Bruce's muscled back. Tears well up and slide down his cheeks as he moans, pussy spasming as he comes again.
“You're welcome, Robin,” Bruce grunts, tangling his fist tight in Tim's panties, using them to hold the boy up as he goes limp in Bruce's arms. “Good boy, tighten up that snatch for me, that's it, fuck—”
He groans as that sweet fuckhole flutters around him, balls drawing up tight. The raised position lets him hit deeper, cockhead pounding against Tim's cervix. He's gonna cream right against Tim’s little womb, fill him up with seed so thick he’ll be dripping for weeks.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Tim gasps, not a thought behind his eyes. Fucked completely stupid on Batman's thick cock, used like a living fleshlight. Just a warm, wet place to dump his cum. Exactly where he's supposed to be.
Bruce presses a soft kiss to his Robin's forehead, holding him tightly in place while he abuses his baby's guts. Tim is so good to him, taking care of his sexual health so thoroughly. It took a little convincing, but now he's the perfect, cum-addicted slut that Batman needs in a partner.
Anywhere he wants— on rooftops, at dinner, during a movie, or late at night. As soon as Bruce shows any hint of needing to empty his balls, Tim offers up his sweet little pussy to use. And if Bruce doesn't seek him out, Tim knows to come do it himself.
Such a good boy. His perfect little Robin.
“Fuck, I'm gonna come,” Bruce groans, holding his boy bruisingly tight. As though he wanted to run away, as though Bruce wouldn't hold him down and fuck him through his cries.
“You gotta come in me,” Tim whines, drooling all over his chest. “‘M your cumdump, you have to!”
“Okay, Robin, I will. Don't cry, I'll give you what you need,” Bruce huffs generously, as though that wasn't his plan from the start.
He grunts, slamming Tim's hips down as he starts to come, draining his balls into his Robin's sweet pussyhole. Cum floods into Tim’s little womb, spilling out around the thick plug of Bruce’s cock.
Tim mewls, twitching as he comes one last time at the feeling of being filled up. Then he squeaks as a sharp pain cracks against his backside.
Bruce huffs, spanking him again when he doesn't get moving. “Clean up your mess, Tim.”
“Sorry, daddy,” Tim whimpers. He wiggles his hips, lifting carefully until Bruce slips out. Cum drips down his thoughts from his thoroughly used kitty. He slides off of Bruce, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and pads his way to the connected bathroom
In a minute or so, he's back with a warm, damp cloth to wipe Bruce clean with. Tim smiles, seeing Bruce already dozing off again when he returns. He picks up the camera from the side of the bed, slips it around his neck, and takes a few pictures of the mess he left behind. The cum, spit, and pussyjuice making a mess of his daddy.
Pictures taken, he gently swipes up the mess around his daddy's tummy until it's all clean, then goes to leave the rag in the bathroom for tomorrow morning. With one last goodnight kiss to Bruce's cheek, he quietly slips out of the bedroom, door shutting softly behind him.