He was his. Lying in his bed, Bart was finally all his. For years he had tried the impossible, who knew a change of heart would do wonders. The moment Bart had set foot in Bob's bedroom, he had been done for. How unexpected that they would end up attracted to eachother, the predator and the prey, the sophisticated failure of a murderer and the successful prankster who would never amount to anything. Yet things had changed, as they do.

He had done everything to put his past behind him. He had been introducing himself as Robert Terwilliger for years, as was his real name, not one dragged in the mud by a gambling, alcoholic clown keen on abusing him, then turned to that of a criminal by the justice system. Everyone in his new life referred to him as Robert. Yet the young man falling asleep in his bed with a tired smile on his face... He was the only person in the world he would let call him Bob. Try as he might to get rid of it, he simply couldn't tell Bart to call him by any other name. It was part of their special relationship.

Bob was watching him as his breathing settled to that of deep sleep, their situation slowly sinking in. After all the things he had done to Bart years ago, all the trauma the boy must have gone through, he had come to his house late into the evening and willingly ended up here with him. Bob had given him plenty of opportunity to walk away, to turn back, to think twice, yet he didn't leave. Now they had done the unthinkable. If someone had told him years ago that he would sleep with Bart – even as an adult- he probably would have laughed them right off before plotting a new plan to eviscerate him.

Bart was now sleeping soundly, his blond hair between Bob's fingers, his soft features relaxed into a slumber deeper by the minute. He looked so defenseless. Yet he seemed happy to put himself into dangerous situations with him, the ex-criminal, his personal murderer. And the more threatening Bob was with him, the more thrill his ex-victim seemed to get in it all, not that Bob minded. Not at all.

Perhaps it was foolishness. Or perhaps Bart, just as Bob did, found comfort in the ever-changing nature of their long-lasting relationship. Whatever it was, Bob knew he had a responsibility towards the young man feeling safe with him at his most vulnerable. He simply wasn't sure what it entailed for him.

.

Bart jumped. Something was moving in his bed. Or rather, someone was. It startled him, pulling him from his dreamless sleep. He sat up, staring at the dark figure lying next to him and briefly looked around the room blinking, his mind foggy. He recognized nothing around him in the near dark, but he soon realized something – he was naked. In a second, it all came back to him. He was in Bob's house, in his bed no less. His eyes now accustomed to the dark, he could make out the familiar wild palmtree-shaped hair next to him, the sleeping figure turning his back to him with a quiet, steady breathing. He had no idea what time it was, but judging by the rays of moonlight shining down on the bedsheets, it was still the middle of the night. If he was dreaming, he sure as hell didn't want to wake up.

The figure next to him shifted on the bed and turned around towards him.

"Go back to sleep..." He heard the other man mutter, sounding half-asleep himself. Bart needed no more to doze right back off, far too comfy to remain awake.

A few hours later, Bart woke up again, feeling something on his head ruffling his hair.

"Good morning, dear," a deep voice spoke softly right next to him.

Bart opened his eyes and there Bob was, in the faint sunlight pouring in from the blinds, stroking his face and staring at him slowly wake up.

"Good morning..." He mumbled back, enjoying the touch. He stretched his limbs in relaxation, refusing to fully emerge from his sleepy state. "Your bed is a curse, you know that?"

Bob laughed. "Would you like to stay longer, then? It's only 9am."

"9am?" His eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, now very awake and fully alert. He had spent the entire night with Bob. Of course, that was to be expected. Still, he could hardly believe it as he was rubbing his eyes. "Nah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Bob asked, grabbing him from behind and throwing him right back onto the mattress. Bart soon found himself below him, trapped. "You must be exhausted after last night."

"Heh," he huffed, smiling. "So it wasn't a dream...?"

Bob let out a low chuckle, his curly red hair drooping down and tickling his forehead. "I can assure you, it was no dream. I distinctly remember the blissful sounds you made... You must have enjoyed yourself considerably."

Bart felt a blush on his face. He didn't know what to say. "Yeah, it was... insane..."

He was squirming beneath him, the memory of their late-night activity coming back in waves as their naked bodies were sharing their respective warmth under the sheets.

"You're quite the pleasant partner, I must say," Bob purred, sliding his fingers down his neck and his shoulder.

Bart snorted. "That's because, like... You're a sadistic fuck, and I'm- I'm..."

"A masochist."

"I guess? Is that the word?"

"Yes." Bob was stroking his chest, looking lost in thoughts. "I can't help but wonder how you've become so attracted to danger."

"I've always been attracted to danger, you know. I'm Bart Simpson."

"True, but not like this."

"Is it... Is it wrong?" He asked tentatively, noticing the way his tone had changed.

Bob's expression turned uneasy and he took a second to answer. "What do you think, Bart?"

For some reason, a faint look of worry flashed in Bob's dark brown eyes above him. It seemed that he was afraid Bart could change his mind after what happened, at least from what he could read. Bob must have misinterpreted his question, and if he needed reassurance about how he felt, Bart could easily give him just that.

"I think..." He started, pretending to think hard for a second. "I think... I love it, being your plaything."

Bart reached for Bob's chest, feeling the soft hair there between his fingers. Moving his legs, he found the other's feet under the sheets and rubbed his toes against them awkwardly. The man above him let out the sigh he must have been holding and grinned, obviously savoring his positive reaction.

"Are you trying to get lucky?" He asked, his voice dangerously seductive.

Bart started drawing circles on the naked chest above him with his fingers and answered sheepishly. "Maybe..."

"And what makes you think I'm going to make love to you again this morning?"

He sighed heavily, an evil idea popping in his mind. "You're right, Robert... You're so smart and important. I'm just a low-wage worker, just a grown-up brat, I probably don't deserve to be with someone like you. Someone so intelligent, and sophisticated, and sexy, and-"

Rolling his eyes, Bob took the blond hair into a tight grisp, pulling Bart's head backwards and making him yelp.

"You think you can just get away with gratuitous flattery?" He asked threateningly, yet Bart could only laugh at him.

"That's how I've always gotten away with you, Bob, so yeah."

"Actions are worth a thousand words, Bartholomew." Bob's eyes were shining with excitement and a vicious smile crept up on his face as he started stroking his bottom lip. "If I'm so important, shouldn't you do something for me, first?"

Bart stared at him, reading his expression, knowing exactly what the ex-convict had in mind. "I could... I could suck you off again..." He replied, playfully catching the tip of his finger in his mouth.

"What a good start, dear," he agreed and grabbed him by the hips unexpectedly to pull and push him around on the bed.

Bart soon found himself lying on his stomach between Bob's legs and, looking up in front of him, it was apparent that the man was aroused. "Tell me, was I the first person to whom you ever gave a blowjob?"

"Yeah."

"Is that true?"

"Huh? Of course it is. I told you, I've never been with a guy before."

Bob smirked. "My apology, but I can hardly believe it. I merely suspected you had plenty of experience, given your skill in the matter."

That comment wasn't without an effect on Bart, who wondered if there was an insult hidden in there somewhere.

"Or perhaps..." Bob went on, grabbing his chin and lifting his face towards his. "It was that good simply because it was you, Bart."

That was it. That was what drove Bart crazy. His dominance, his words, and the privileged relationship they shared. Never in his sexual life had he been turned on so easily, and the mix of all three was sure to make him lose control fast. Something clicked inside of him and he parted his lips. He swallowed Bob's cock whole in an instant, almost choking on the tip. He closed his eyes, feeling Bob's hand on his head petting him, and licked and sucked as hard as he could to give Bob pleasure. Once his cock was properly hard and fully erect, Bart let go to catch a breath and looked up. Bob was staring him in the eyes, his expression serious, or perhaps focused. It was an obscene picture, his mortal enemy looking down at him with those hungry eyes, in the position he was in. But he couldn't help himself; he ran his tongue up the whole length of his dick, once, twice, more, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. He was almost playing at this point, and he knew Bob was enjoying every second of it. It was so gratifying, knowing he could make Bob hard, as much as the ex-criminal could drive him insane.

He put the head in his mouth again, tickling it with his tongue, and started running his hands up and down Bob's bare thighs when a familiar repetitive hum sounded off somewhere. Familiar, but at that moment oh-so-annoying and distracting. He saw Bob move around a little, grabbing something off the floor. The man retrieved Bart's vibrating phone from his jeans pockets, looked at the screen and smiled.

"Ah... Your friend, Milhouse."