Bart was lying on his bed late at night, his breathing heavy. He was pretty sure he was naked, but his attention was centered fully on the red-haired man lying on top of him and looking back intently at him. He didn't even remember hearing Bob break into his bedroom. Had he let him in?

"Whatever happens, don't scream... We don't want your family to wake up," he velvet voice spoke to him while steady fingers were keeping his hands pinned down above his head. His dark brown eyes were mesmerizing and Bart couldn't look away, nor could he move.

"Wh-what are you... gonna do?" He asked nervously, his voice shaking, eager for what was to come but anxious Bob's intentions had reverted back to murder.

"What would you like me to do, Bart?"

He didn't answer. His mind was racing with all the possibilities and the task of coming up with an answer was made all the more difficult by Bob's grin growing wider mere inches away from his face.

"I want... I want..."

His ringtone jolted him awake. Startled and dizzy, he looked around to find himself alone in his bedroom, his boxer stained with a little bit of cum. He picked up his phone and groaned.

"Hey, mom," he answered in a sleepy voice.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie, did I wake you up?"

Bart looked at the time - 11am. At least he was well-rested, for once. "Erm, no, what's up?"

"Oh, good. I was just calling to tell you I'll be home late this evening, if you're hungry I left some leftovers for you in the fridge. I hope you enjoy your day off, love you, sweetie!"

"Okay, thanks Mom. Love you, too."

He put the phone down and buried his face into his pillow in frustration, just wishing he would fall back asleep to resume his dream. But now that he was wide awake, he wondered where his imagination was going to lead him. The thought scared him and excited him at the same time and he asked himself what the hell was wrong with him, thinking so much about Bob these days. Turning to lie on his back, he slipped a hand into his boxer to indulge himself once more, against his own better judgement.

Everyone but him was at work or in class today, it was the perfect opportunity to get back at Bob. He had looked up every library in Shelbyville – there was one in particular that was fairly close to where Bart worked at. This time it would be his turn to harass him in the workplace and the idea of getting revenge on Bob filled him with evil glee.

Once he arrived outside the library in Shelbyville, he noted how much bigger and more fancy it looked compared to any in Springfield; another source of rivalry between the two towns, not that Bart cared all that much about their access to books. It was more Lisa's thing. Bob's too, he figured. He entered the large hall and walked up to the receptionists.

"Yes, sir?"

"I... have an appointment with Mr Terwilliger."

The man frowned slightly and looked up his computer. "I didn't know he had an appointment today, did you?"

"No," the woman working next to him said, "That's weird, he just returned, too..."

"That's because... it was last minute," Bart explained with his best convincing smile.

The receptionist sighed and picked up the deskphone. "Your name, please."

"Bart Simpson." He tried hard to suppress his laugh. He knew the mention of his name would be like dropping a bomb on Bob.

"Sir? Your appointment is here," the man said on the phone. There were a few seconds of confused silence, probably on the other side of the line as well. "Mr Simpson, Bart." More silence as Bart could only imagine Bob's face. "Yes, sir." The receptionist hung up, still unsure about the unexpected guest. "Mr Terwilliger's office will be the last door on the right." He gestured towards a hallway going around the corner. Bart offered them a big grin and headed to Bob's office.

He walked down the hallway, right into Bob's territory, one he absolutely wasn't invited into, and there was no telling what his reaction would be. When he reached the last door, it opened before he even had time to knock. He entered the office hesitantly to find Bob glaring at him and the door was swiftly closed behind him. Bob's eyes were shooting daggers from behind his glasses.

"Care to explain to me what you are doing here?" He asked icily, his voice barely above a whisper, his back resting against the closed door.

"Revenge, Bob," he replied confidently, ignoring the obvious threat. "You know that word, don't you? Now, it's my turn to show up at your work to mess with you, to give you a taste of your own medicine. Anything smart to say to that?"

A smile pulled up the corner of the director's lips, which Bart considered a victory. "You are a nuisance, indeed," Bob retorted, gesturing him towards his desk.

Bart looked around the room. It was a fairly large office, with shelves of books and files lining up the walls and a large wooden desk at the center, with Bob's chair on one side and an extra chair on the other.

"Meh, I expected a bigger place for someone as important as a director. I'm a little bit disappointed, Bob."

"Why don't you tell me the reason for your visit? What did you expect coming here?" Bob asked nonchalantly.

That was a good question. Not that Bart didn't let his imagination work wonders, but he didn't exactly plan that far ahead. Getting into Bob's office was already an accomplishment in itself.

"I don't know, I figured I'd just ask you for some coffee while I hang around and do nothing." He shrugged and pulled the chair, ready to sit down.

Bob tutted. "No, Bart." He stopped in his track, thrown off by Bob's sudden commanding tone. "This chair is for guests only."

Bart froze as he felt the presence looming right behind him.

"And you're not exactly a guest, are you? You invited yourself, and I believe I know why," the voice crooned in his ear.

"Yeah? Why?" Bart gulped with difficulty, feeling his blood rush in his body. Alone time with Bob he had wanted, alone time with Bob he was going to get.

"To return a favor."

"What?" He turned to face him, not sure he got his words right.

"I understand, of course, it's only natural," the redhead went on innocently. "Besides, I can't exactly take you on my desk and make you scream, this is not the place."

Bart was struck speechless. How could Bob be saying things like that so casually and send him such mental pictures like it was nothing?

Before he could find a snarky response, Bob took a step closer, but instead of kissing him like Bart almost expected him to, the redhead brought a hand up to Bart's cheek and rested his thumb on his bottom lip, stroking it gently.

Confused, the young man simply let him, curious as to what he was doing. He let him caress his mouth, then Bob pushed past slightly and Bart parted his lips, welcoming his thumb inside.

He closed his mouth around it, his tongue eager to make contact. Soon he found himself suckling on Bob's finger, coating it in saliva, wrapping his tongue around one way, then another as though he was making out, relishing the taste of Bob once again and staring up at him through his lashes. Bart had never done anything like that before, and it was oddly pleasant as he began feeling light-headed.

"I see we can make something of that mouth." Bob said simply.

The message was clear, he owed Bob.