Pairings:
TimxBart

Summary:
Bart sneaks into Tim's room and begs for a special something that only a Bat Boy can do. Because it involves a butt.

Rating:
M for penisbutterectionlapdancing*breath*quickorgasmblowjob. But aside from that it's a K... +...

Multi-chapter?
No.

AN:
Do I write too much smut? Do I really?
Why, yes. Yes I do.

Don't be afraid to leave a comment! It gives me a little thrill when I see [New Review] in my emails :3

It wasn't like Bruce had directly banned friends from sneaking in, just that he gave it his strongest disapproval. It meant the culprit had... special abilities, which meant that they were part of Bruce and Tim's other life, which meant identities had been shared.

Bart was different. Sorta. One thing in particular that set him apart was that he already knew about Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake without being told, therefore he also knew of the Manor. Another thing was that he and Tim were currently engaged in a relationship.

A third was that Bruce would never wish to barge in and tell them both off, because when your adopted son was a part-time Robin, things were possibly going on even when you couldn't hear the tell-tale moans through the door.

"Just this one time," Bart whispered. "I swear I'll make it up to you with something even better. C'mon, Timmy-"

"Don't call me that," Tim hissed, a blush dusting over his cheeks. Even though they were talking into the dark—even though Bart's face was preoccupied with his neck—he was still scared that the flame-toned red-head would see it and laugh at his embarrassment. "And I feel weird doing it."

"Do it and I'll suck yours. I know how much my Timmy loves his blowies."

"How about this – I'll do it, and I'll throw in some head, if you promise not to call me Timmy for a week."

"DEAL!"

Tim really didn't have any idea how the hell he ended up straddling his boyfriend, but his head was dizzy from the sudden switch, the light far too sudden, and Bart had an incredibly eager look on his face. Tim moved until the pounding in his chest was smothered by Bart's T-shirt, edging his wet lips over the teen's collarbone. Bart had a runner's physique, with smooth muscles and a little more bone than most jocks, and maybe that was Tim's type. Steph had looked nice, too, however that was mostly because she had breasts. No matter how much Tim would daydream about rubbing his dick against Bart's thigh or the memories of the latter's face as he came, he still had a thing for boobs.

Or, as Bart had fondly named them, chesticles.

His mouth found that of the other boy's, without much coaxing needed to get it open and kissing back. Bart's tongue vibrated across the area right behind Tim's teeth; a small whine escaped him at the tickling contact, and he cleared his throat as his hand found Bart's package, squeezing as though he wasn't stiff already. Bart pleaded with his eyes, with a pitiful bite of his own lip. Of course Tim relented, shimmying his own jeans off before telling his boyfriend "Hips up."

Only a minute ago, Bart had been his usual, cocky self. Now, with his half-boner making itself known in the shape of his boxers, he was silent and close to begging for Tim to offer some form of relief. Tim wasn't cruel, though, so he gave Bart one more long smooch before turning around, back to him, and grinding his ass against Bart's crotch.

If the hitch in his breathing wasn't noticeable enough then the partially hushed groan was. Tim wiggled, creating circles with his hips and feeling delighted when Bart's hard-on pushed back. The pants filled up the room, though it was no use telling Bart to quieten down because there was a possibility of someone walking past the door at 1am. You never know with a Bat.

Tim reached between his own legs, reaching past his groin, and cradled Bart's balls in his hand. This evoked more noises, more of a grip on his sides, and a low moan. Tim gave it another long stroke between his cheeks, making Bart gape and throw his head back.

"Y-you gotta stop!" he exclaimed, his cry quite a bit on the breathy side.

Tim leaned back, looking over his shoulder at Bart's reddened—strained—face. "And why is that, Bartie?"

He gasped out "I'm too close!"

With a grin on his face, Tim arched, much to Bart's horror.

"So what? Maybe I should let you come in your pants this time."

Bart shook his head so frantically it was practically a blur. "No! You promised to go down on me! You- ah!"

"I could still go down on you after this. I think it's easy to gather from previous experiences that you've not only quick to climax, you've got a very fast recovery rate as well." Tim lifted his hips then, and Bart sighed in relief. "That being said, I don't want you borrowing my clothes."

They were face-to-face again, and—despite the way he'd been teased and one more wiggle off of complete humiliation—Bart wrapped his arms around Tim's waist and pulled him in for more kissing. It was enough to keep his member throbbing with a nice feeling he couldn't really describe, though not enough to get him overly excited all over again. Tim's mouth was warm and subtly demanding for hands on his body, on his legs, in his hair. Bart responded by cupping the teen's face, fingers tracing its path from his legs to his back. His heartbeat shot through the roof again as Tim took his hands off the bed and fisted the fabric of his boxers, tugging them away from his leaking erection.

Tim moved down, lapping with his tongue on Bart's abs, then at the bottom of his dick. He licked his lips before his opened mouth drew slowly up the sides. He breathed over the head, watching for Bart's reaction, and finally put in as much as he could without gagging. Bart's hand latched into his boyfriend's hair as his head bobbed; he yelled out Tim's name as his length was inhaled down to the base, and came. He knew Tim only deep-throated him so he wouldn't have to taste the salty goop as it spurted out, but it was still like going all the way in and he lurched forward with the force of his orgasm. By the time Tim looked up, Bart was already in a state of total bliss.

So he wiped the spit away, waiting for the speedster to stir and offer something in return. The clock read one-ten.

Two minutes, he thought in amusement. New record.

"Shut up. I heard that," Bart muttered.

"No, you didn't. I never said a word."

"You looked at the time and smirked. So shut up."

Tim lay down beside him and watched a bead of sweat run down his temple.

"And you're sure we can't do that more than this one time?" Bart asked, on top of him and grinning again.

Tim's quirked brow said it all.