Dick is trimming the hedges in the garden when he sees movement in the master bedroom. And he's no fool so he instantly leaves the sheers and dashes towards the ornate window, doing his best not to make a sound as he manages to peek into the room.
And yes, a part of him still feels guilty as he thinks he should share this moment with the rest of the household, that Cass and Jason might find as much pleasure as he does in such routine... But another, more selfish, more child-like part of him wants to keep this morning indulgence to himself, to feast on the sight and the sounds alone and treasure each single second on his own.
Because Mr. Wayne is gently rousing the Young Master from his bed, his massive hands dwarfing the teen's petite frame as he gently pulls the button's of the Young Master's sleeping gown one by one, his calloused knuckles caressing the milky white skin of his chest in a way that looks to the casual observer like an innocent consequence of their closeness, the obligatory contact between a Master and his servant.
But Dick knows those fingers are far from innocent, the way they brush over the Young Master's pink nipples - Dick knows from experience how sensitive they are, how small and soft and sweet like the most delicious of treats, - and the malicious glint in Mr. Wayne's eyes makes a shudder go through the young gardener's spine when his Young Master Timothy's cheeks color lightly.
"Now, Bruce?" the teen asks with steel and ice and sadistic amusement in his voice.
The butler smirks at him, all teeth and charm and sin.
"I don't know what you are talking about, young Master," he whispers, his voice thick and throaty. "I am merely making sure you are presentable for today's meeting with Lord Slade."
From the window, Dick scowls. The Drake household does not like Lord Slade and the way he eyes the Young Master, the way his lust seems to pour out of him and cloy the air around them.
Young Master Timothy leans on his back on the bed, his eyes half-lidded and his legs slightly spread in a way that makes Dick's mouth water as Mr. Wayne runs his palms up and down his Master's thighs, slowly sliding his dark stockings over his knees and nosing the boy's ankles and the sole of his feet, then back on to rest his cheek on his slender thigh, just millimetres away from a small, angry bruise that soiled Tim's perfection for all to see.
The same bruise he had planted there the night before in a fit of passion and possesiveness and devotion towards his wonderful Young Master.
Just thinking about it makes his erection dig painfully against his pants, the tip leak as he remembers Tim's smell, his warmth, his beauty as he came undone under his eager hands.
Bruce's smile turns feral.
"Were you attacked by a wild cat, Young Master?" he mocks, his tongue sneaking out to taste both bruise and skin, eyes closing in delight.
Young Master Timothy's mouth parts in a moan, his hands reaching for his butler's dark hair.
"Why would you..." Tim breaths. "Why would you want to know, Bruce?"
"I am merely curious," the older man says teasingly. "Was it Jason? Cassandra?"
"Dick, actually," the teen moans, his lips now moist, trembling. "He came to me last night, his big cock dripping, his mouth so hungry... How could I possibly refuse?"
Dick moans outloud himself, his hand grasping his cock and stroking it furiously as he tries his best to remain standing, to keep himself from interrupting his Master's intimate routine.
Tim arches his back as Bruce continues to lick at the kissmarks Dick put there, his hands grasping the boy's hips to keep him still.
"He is so hot and so good inside of me, Bruce, a perfect fit," he says, head rocking from side to side. "When he comes inside of me I feel as if I'm going to melt, as if I'm being branded by him and I am solely his and no one else in the world can touch me, can own me like he does."
Dick refuses to close his eyes despite the tremors that are taking over him, he refuses to tear his eyes from the beauty that is his Master's pleasure, he can't allow himself to miss even the smallest of Tim's twitches.
Nor the way Mr. Wayne growls low in his throat, his eyes hungry, nonhuman... Almost demonic.
Young Master Timothy's smile widens.
"What's the matter, Bruce..." he sneers. "Jealous?"
The older butler stops for a moment, his hands so tight against the Young Master's skin that he will surely be bruised in a less pleasurable way, but the teen doesn't seem to mind, the way his eyes are wicked and light, fired with challenge.
Bruce brings their lips together violently, his tongue forcing his entrance and forcing a groan from Tim, making those slender fingers slide from his hair to coil around his shoulders, pulling them impossibly close.
The wet noises the two make should be obscene but they only serve to fuel Dick's lust and he is coming against his clothing, his hand tight against his cock, his teeth sinking so hard against his bottom lip there is a small sliver of blood rolling down his cheek.
He slumps against the window, his forehead dotted with sweat, his eyes unfocused, his breathing ragged, just as Bruce releases their Young Master's pink mouth, giving his lips a final, satisfied lick.
"It would be unsightly of a butler to feel jealousy towards those who share his master's bed, Young Master." he whispers, his voice that same confident grumble.
Young Master Timothy grins.
"Of course," he whispers back, his small hand pushing the other man back so he can sit up on the bed.
They stare at eachother for a moment, silent.
"Go prepare a bath, Bruce," Tim says, his hand waving dismissively. "I won't be smelling like you when I am to meet Godfather."
That unnatural glint sparkles once more in Bruce's eyes as he slicks his hair back and fixes his tie and his coat.
"Yes, My Lord," he whispers as he walks towards the bathroom, his steps prepared, measured, perfect as everything the man does.
Dick watches as Young Master Tim runs a thumb through his bottom lip before giving the pad an experimental lick.
"Not jealous my ass," he says to the empty room. "It's just a matter of time."
Dick can only agree.