Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/540550.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_(Comics), DCU_-_Comicverse, DCU
  Relationship:
      Tim_Drake/Jason_Todd, Tim_Drake/Bruce_Wayne
  Character:
      Tim_Drake, Jason_Todd, Bruce_Wayne
  Additional Tags:
      Humiliation, Masturbation, Anal_Play
  Series:
      Part 1 of Burn_Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-19 Words: 3168
****** Burning Up ******
by cornflakepizza
Summary
     After getting caught masturbating, Tim turns to a friend for help.
     Humiliation kink with a fluffy ending.
Notes
     For secretinternetbox at tumblr. =v= Thanks to varebanos and
     silencingthedrums for beta-ing.
     Tim is in his teens, around 15 or 16, but could easily be aged up to
     18.
It had been a long night.
After a full day of classes and an afternoon spent surveying the R&D floors at
Wayne Enterprises for a school report, Tim had suited up for what should have
been a quick patrol. First he had swung by the docks, expecting a small-time
drug deal and instead finding an armed fight between two rival gangs. Next,
working off a tip from an informant, Tim spent a full two hours on a rooftop
watching Poison Ivy's hideout for activity. It would have been fine if, after
Ivy and Harley Quinn finally stumbled into the room, he had caught them drawing
up blueprints or bragging about their plans, but no. The women were clearly in
a mood more amorous than anything else, rendering the entire stake-out
pointless.
When he had seen enough to know they weren't planning on criminal activity that
night, it was nearly 4:30. He wasn't expecting any more trouble that night as
he swung back to the manor, legs stiff from the extended crouch on the freezing
rooftop. Of course, he just had to stumble upon a group of thugs who had the
brilliant idea to bring a bunch of knives into a dominance fight. After
disarming the men and knocking out the two main instigators, Tim tiredly made
his way back home.
Upon arriving at the cave, it took all of Tim's willpower to not just pull off
his uniform and collapse right there on the cold cement floor. He dragged
himself to the shower room and threw his clothes into a heap on the floor
before clambering into one of the stalls. The water was warm as it poured out
of the faucet, meaning the others had already showered and were probably
already tucked into bed upstairs. Tim sighed gratefully as the shower heated up
and allowed the steamy water to melt away the dirt, sweat, and stress from his
body. He rolled his neck and let the spray pound directly into his face for a
moment before redirecting the pulsing water to his chest.
He thought back to his patrol that night. Upon review, there was a good use of
space when he propelled himself off a wall to kick two gangsters in the face.
His attempt to knock out a particularly large assailant with an elbow to the
solar plexus was badly planned and much too close. In the later fight, he had
managed to collect 7 knives in 190 seconds. That was acceptable, he supposed,
but not good enough if the pressure was really on. And then there was Quinn,
and the way her toes had curled when Ivy had parted her soft blonde curls and
plunged her tongue through her--
Tim opened his eyes with a jerk. He hadn't even realized he was doing it, but
his hand was gripping his cock. When had he gotten hard? He groaned at the
sight of his erection throbbing in his palm, flushed dark from the warmth of
the shower and his rapidly escalating desire.
He closed his eyes again and tried to picture something other than supervillain
lesbians. Images of his ex-girlfriends and what he guessed they looked like
naked flashed through his mind. Then he was laying in a heap with all of them
at once, and the orgy kept growing, starting with other girls he'd seen, then
classmates, then friends, then colleagues. Ives and Ari and Officer Harper,
Bernard with Jason Bard, Zoanne entwined with Steph, and everyone on top of
each other at once. Soon the images fuzzed into soft-focused flesh, writhing
and licking and thrusting and sucking and twitching and throbbing. With each
pump of his cock he imagined his hard member sliding into an inviting mouth or
thrusting into a wet, slicked hole. Tim rested his brow and a forearm against
the warm tiled wall as he pulled on his cock, as each nudge of the sensitive
head had his knees threatening to buckle.
There was a sudden knock.
"Tim, you in there?" Bruce's voice cut through the foggy bathroom much more
loudly than it should have.
Tim yelped and his cock jumped in his hand. He couldn't suppress a loud whine
when his cock suddenly spilled over, jets of come running over his fist onto
the tiled floor.
"I'll, uh, I'll check on you later," Tim heard Bruce mumble, followed by the
sound of the bathroom door being slammed shut.
Tim let out a shaky breath and stared down at his sticky fist before the
realization of what had just happened hit him. He groaned and banged his
forehead onto the wall. He just had to jerk off here, where anyone could walk
in on him. He couldn't have waited until he was upstairs in his own room and
behind a locked door, or at least kept an ear out for any intruders. What if
there was an emergency while he was in the shower? Careless, dangerous, stupid.
And Bruce. He had to have known what Tim was doing. Why else would he have run
away from the room so quickly? Tim found himself hyperventilating, the edges of
his vision starting to blur with anxiety. He forced himself to try and employ
the calming techniques Batman had taught him. Techniques that Bruce had taught
him. Bruce. The man who had just walked in on him coming into his own hand. Tim
felt his heart speed up again and resisted the urge to drown himself in the
inch of water on the floor.
This was so not good.
===============================================================================
Tim spent the next week pinging between gut-wrenching embarrassment over what
had happened and frustration over his inability to touch himself without
calling up memories of that awkward night. Lying in bed, he'd try to slip his
hand under the waistband of his sweats, but then the sound of an abrupt knock
on the door would infiltrate his mind. Morning wood became an excuse to bury
his face into his pillow rather than his cock into his fist. The awkward
erections he'd get in class were suddenly ten times more embarrassing than
usual. Just the thought of pulling one of Dick's old girly magazines out from
under the bed had his face heating up unbearably. Forget about ever jerking off
in the shower again.
All the while he avoided Bruce and the rest of the bats like the plague,
returning from his patrols during times he knew no one would be in the cave and
taking off for school early in the morning before Bruce was awake. If Alfred
noticed that the two were no longer speaking to each other, he kept it to
himself.
The inability to get himself off meant he was thinking about sex all the time.
He spent at least a third of his day thinking about the state of his cock, and
another third hastily adjusting himself. He nearly missed a landing one night
because his cock had slid just right in his jockstrap, and by the end of each
day the insides of his boxers were a mess, slick and soaked through with
precome.
Then something unsettling started happening.
Each time he'd reach for his cock, he'd recall the incident in the showers and
be unable--unwilling--to get himself off. But then - and he wasn't sure if it
was because of something Pavlovian or just another sign that he was more fucked
up that he previously thought - he started getting excited from the
embarrassment. The butterflies in his stomach, the tingle in his spine: each
flutter of nervous energy sent a shiver up his cock.
On top of all the embarrassment and shame about getting hard, here he was
getting hard over his embarrassment and shame. He could barely stand it.
He was tired of having to check his crotch for wet spots during school.
He was tired of the dull ache in his balls from not being able to get the
release he so needed.
He was tired of the endless cycle of feeling like he was going to faint, then
getting hard, then wanting to come, then wanting to die.
And if he couldn't get himself off without wanting to die first, well, that
meant that he was going to need someone else to do it for him.
===============================================================================
Tim resisted the urge to tut as he shimmied through the air vent into the empty
apartment. He had checked every window and door into the place and found them
all alarmed and locked tight, but the owner of this apartment hadn't thought to
bolt down the air vent cover. Perhaps the security would have been enough to
keep out your run-of-the-mill Gothamite hero, but it was certainly no match for
a Teen Wonder.
Tim landed in the carpeted living room with a soft thump. He scanned the
darkness for any sign of movement before tiptoeing towards what he supposed was
the bedroom door.
He was about to push open the door when he found himself pulled back, hard,
against something warm and all too solid. Before he could catch his breath he
felt a knife pressed to his neck.
"Bit late for a stroll."
"Jason," Tim replied, trying to keep his voice even despite the fact that all
the air in his lungs had just been forcibly expelled. He allowed his shoulders
to visibly drop and raised his hands in surrender. Jason didn't budge and
pushed the flat of the knife deeper into Tim's neck.
"I could hear you squirreling around in the vents. You want to explain what
you're doing here, Pretender?"
"I just wanted to talk to you," Tim breathed, all too conscious of how close
the knife was to slicing through his neck.
"Hmmph." Jason lowered the knife and shoved Tim forward. "And after all this
time. I just figured you weren't into me like that."
Tim balanced himself and turned around, slowly so as not to end up with a knife
thrown into his chest. "Do you greet everyone with a knife to the throat, or is
that just special for me?"
Jason growled and relaxed his grip on the knife. "Don't push it. Last time I
checked, you're the one who came crawling into my safehouse at fuck-knows-when
in the morning."
Tim flushed as he remembered the real reason he was standing in Jason Todd's -
Jason Todd's - living room at 3am on a school night. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just
kind of edgy right now."
"Looks like that's not the only thing that's on edge right now." Jason stared
pointedly at the straining bulge of Tim's pants. Tim looked down and saw the
obscene outline of his erection through the fabric, the traitorous flesh
choosing that specific moment to jump in his boxers. Tim resisted the urge to
shield his crotch from Jason's view.
"That's," Tim swallowed. "That's kind of why I'm here. I need your help."
"Well. That changes things a bit." Jason set the knife down and moved to stand
in front of the younger boy. "Are you sure you want this?" Jason peered into
Tim's eyes. "You haven't run into Ivy lately, have you?"
Tim laughed nervously. "No sex pollen here. Just regular old teenager stuff.
Good old gonadotropins and testosterone." Because clearly the best way to
seduce an older, much cooler boy was to geek out about endocrinology.
Jason rolled his eyes. "And the reason you came to me and not one of your
little girlfriends is...?"
Tim's face was on fire. "I--I'm not--there's no--uhm. Do I really have to spell
it out?"
Jason kneeled in front of him and began unzipping his jeans. "Nah, I get it. I
take it you're here because you're starting to have naughty, big boy thoughts
about other boys." Jason grinned up from his place on the floor. "I'm just
surprised it took you this long."
Tim bit his lip. "It's not that. I...I can't. Do it. Do that. Not anymore."
"You're going to have to speak English if you want my assistance."
"Bruce caught me. Touching myself in the shower. And now I--I can't."
"Honestly, it looks like you're doing a pretty good job from this angle." Jason
pulled the jeans down Tim's legs and cupped his straining cock through his
boxers.
"I mean, I can't do it to myself anymore."
Jason looked up at him quizzically. "You mean...you mean you can't masturbate
anymore?" When Tim didn't respond, Jason started to laugh. "Oh god, Tim. You
poor thing."
Tim made a face. "Maybe I should just go."
Jason grinned up at Tim as he squeezed the hard flesh through his boxers.
"That's probably not a good idea, not when you're all worked up like this. Now
why don't you tell daddy all about your little problem."
"Oh, fuck you," Tim spat, not missing the implication thanks to Jason
punctuating the penultimate word with a squeeze, but he ground his hips against
the warm palm anyway. Tim groaned as Jason pulled his cock out through the gap
in his boxers. The feeling of skin on skin set Tim's nerves on fire.
"You do realize that you made this into a bigger deal than it was by avoiding
him, right?" Tim whimpered as Jason rubbed a thumb around his cock head. "He's
probably thinking about you and your weird masturbatory habits all the time
now."
"N-no," Tim moaned, willing his legs to stay upright as Jason continued to
tease the head.
"He probably thought about you tugging on your cock every time he wanted to ask
you something this week."
Tim hissed as Jason squeezed his cock from root to tip, forcing a large stream
of precome to run out of his twitching hole.
"He probably thinks you're a pervert. I mean, you kind of are a little pervert,
aren't you? C'mere." Jason spun Tim around and tugged the sticky boxers down
his legs. He placed a firm hand on Tim's back and forced the boy to bend over
in front of him and brace his arms on the wall. Jason slid a hand around to
Tim's front and continued to tease his cock while nudging his legs apart.
"What were you thinking of when you were touching yourself?" Tim jumped at the
sudden sensation of coldness as Jason pressed two slick fingers to his
entrance.
"You were thinking of something fucked up, weren't you?"
"I--no," Tim managed to stutter out as Jason circled his finger around Tim's
pucker.
"Don't tell me you were thinking of Bruce."
"I wasn't, I swear. Oh!"
Jason slid the tip of his slick finger into the tight hole. It was obvious that
Tim had never taken anything into himself before.
"Ah, well, doesn't matter. Now Bruce probably thinks you were thinking of him
anyway." Jason pulled the finger out and slid it back in again, this time
deeper than before. "Does it hurt?" Jason murmured, increasing the speed of his
thrusting fist on Tim's cock to distract him from the burn.
"Ah! It--it hurts, a little--but--it feels good."
"Mmm, I bet it does." Jason pushed another finger in to join the first. Tim
rocked back against the burn, torn between the hot tingle coursing through his
cock and the fire that seemed to trail alongside Jason's fingers.
"How can you ever face him again? I mean, every time you take a shower from now
on, he's going to think you're jacking off in there."
"Jason," Tim whined, sliding his hips back on Jason's unmoving fingers.
Jason laughed. "Someone's got a hungry little hole." He began thrusting the two
fingers in and out, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. Tim's toes curled
as Jason began hitting that spot inside him that felt so good.
"Mmmm, bet you like the idea of Bruce thinking about you jacking off, don't
you, Stalkerboy?"
Tim actually started keening, his hands grabbing onto the wall in vain as Jason
began pounding into his hole with renewed vigor. "Bet Bruce is so disgusted
whenever he has to take a shower in the locker room, thinking about how much
come you've splattered in there over the years."
Tim shook as Jason stroked his cock in time with the rhythmic jabs to his
prostate. His cock was leaking a steady stream of precome which covered Jason's
fist and dripped onto the floor.
"And think about poor Alfred, having to clean up your mess. Man deserves a
raise."
Tim's face grew hotter, if that was even possible. He glanced behind him and
saw that at some point Jason had pulled his own cock out. It was bobbing in
time with each of Jason's thrusts, neglected as both of Jason's hands were
currently occupied with driving Tim to the edge of release, but Tim's eyes were
glued to the drop of precome precariously bubbled at its tip.
"J-Jason, please, I'm going to--"
"Look at you, little baby Robin, has to come crawling to someone else to help
him out because he's can't even handle his own cock. Pathetic." Jason nipped at
the back of Tim's right hip. "You're lucky I like pathetic."
Tim wasn't sure what sent him over the edge - the sharp pain of Jason's teeth,
the constant hand working his cock, those two maddening fingers deep inside
him, or the idea that Jason wanted him - but in a flash of white hot pleasure
he was coming, fast and bright and hard.
===============================================================================
"You okay?" Jason smoothed Tim's sweaty bangs off of the boy's forehead.
"Hmm? I'm fine," Tim murmured sleepily, cuddling deeper into the tangle of
sheets.
"I guess this must be a right of passage," Jason mused, tracing the contours of
Tim's face with his fingers. "I'm pretty sure Bruce has walked in on every one
of his Robins jerking it."
Tim shot up onto his elbows. "What?! There's no way--oh my god--"
"Easy, Tim." Jason gently pushed against Tim's chest until he was forced to lie
down again.
"You're not serious, are you? About Bruce."
"Yep. Just ask Dick sometime about the flushed sock incident."
"Oh god." Tim buried his face into his hands.
"Hey." Jason pulled Tim's hands away from his face and smoothed a thumb over
his jaw. "That was supposed to make you feel better, not worse. Besides, don't
tell me you never listened in on the Bat getting his rocks off?"
"Eww, no, what the fuck, Jason."
Jason laughed. "Man, I can't tell you how scarred I was the first time I heard
him crying 'Selina! Selina!' in the bathroom."
"Oh. My. God. That did not happen. Oh my god."
"For a place that big, you'd be surprised at how bad the sound insulation was."
Tim couldn't help but smile as Jason snickered over the memory and traced
circles onto his skin. All things considered, there were worse things than
being warmed and cheered up by a man who knew your mistakes and cared for you
anyway. Perhaps his life wasn't such a mess, after all.
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