Chapter Text
Tim’s heart is already pounding in his chest by the time he walks into the sex club, his entire body thrumming with anticipation and excitement. He nods politely as the door attendant gives him the rundown and signs the rules acknowledgement, then goes into the change room, stowing his things in a locker and shucking off his street clothes. Underneath them, he’s got a pair of tight red boy shorts and nothing else.
Well, besides the plug. He put that in before he left home, just to make sure he was already prepped. And the fuckton of concealer to cover up his most distinctive scars. Tim didn’t bother with too much of a disguise, but he made sure to do that. And he’s got a little bit of makeup on, just enough so that he’s not instantly recognizable as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. There’s no cameras allowed inside, and anyway, it’s not like people are going to be looking at his face. It wouldn’t do at all if pictures of him leaving the club showed up in the tabloids tomorrow. It’s times like these when living in a house with several different secret entrances comes in handy, cause that makes it much easier to go about your private business without a paparazzi tail. Even though this was probably not the sort of private nighttime business Bruce had in mind when he designed those secret exits.
Tim takes a deep breath and walks out of the locker room, into the rest of the club, blood still singing with excitement. The club is dimly lit, with soft yellow lights up in frosted globes, and little lights on the sides of hallway floors to mark the path. Low music filters through, something halfway between electronic and jazzy, bassy and wordless. There’s a few different rooms and spaces here. One of the stages has a St Andrew’s cross, and someone’s doing a public flogging scene, with a small audience. In a dark corner, there’s a few couches, and two couples are fucking side by side. Swingers, if Tim had to guess. There’s a few more private rooms with “occupied” signs on the doors and faint noises coming out of them, a dance floor where people in various degrees of street-legal are grinding and dancing on each other, a circle of friends standing in the corner and talking excitedly to each other about something, a gorgeous redheaded woman wearing a stunning leather jacket who’s sitting at a table with a blond man on a leash kneeling at her feet.
Tim passes by all of these things and ducks down a hallway. He knows exactly what he’s here for. There’s a dimly lit room with several stalls in it, and Tim walks down the line. On the other side of the stalls there’s a line of benches, so people can sit and watch what’s happening. There’s a few with people fucking in the stalls, a few empty, one with a paneled door with a conveniently placed hole in it. On this last one, there’s a whiteboard hanging over the hole, on which someone has scrawled “open for business.” There’s little lights on the sides of each one, along with a laminated half-sheet explaining the system. Empty rooms have lights off, the occupied glory hole and some of the couples have green lights, and one stall with four people squeezed into it has a yellow light lit up. You can watch, but don’t interrupt.
Tim finds an empty stall with a kneeling bench and sets himself up. He adjusts the bench to his height, grabs a bottle of lube and sets it nearby, shimmies out of his shorts and sets them to one side, then tugs the plug out, leaving it on top of his shorts. There’s a little basket of free condoms, and Tim puts it next to the lube. On the whiteboard, Tim writes “free to use.” Tim takes another deep breath, nearly trembling already from anticipation. His cock’s already hard just from the thought of what he’s going to do. He flicks the light to green, and kneels over the bench, resting his forehead into the donut-shaped pillow that’s sort of like the ones on massage tables. Tim waits, listening to the quiet music, the sounds of people fucking, the footsteps down the adjacent hallway.
Tim doesn’t have to wait long.
“Well, now. What have we got here?” The voice is deep and low, an older man, maybe. A rough hand rubs at Tim’s hip. A finger rubs against Tim’s wet, relaxed hole, before dipping in slightly, and Tim shivers, spreading his legs further and pushing his ass back into the touch. “Such a pretty little hole.”
The finger disappears. There’s a crinkling, shuffling sound, and then Tim feels something much bigger and blunter prodding at his hole, the smooth slide of latex covered in lube. Then, it’s pushing in, and Tim lets out a soft little noise as the stranger’s cock fills him up, the sudden stretch overwhelming and so, so perfect.
“Oh, what a nice hole.” The cock inside Tim starts moving, in and out in little motions. The stranger pushes in all the way, and Tim feels heavy balls brushing up against his ass. “Nice and tight for me.” The stranger starts moving faster, fucking Tim in earnest, and Tim lets out a moan. It just feels so fucking good, every hard thrust making him feel so full, so fucked. “That’s right. You just need to be used, is that it? Don’t worry, I’ll use your pretty little hole just the way you need.”
Tim whimpers and nods into the pillow. God, he knows this is a bad idea. It's risky, probably not smart at all, but he just needs it. Needs to be fucked like a little toy, needs someone to use his hole, to wreck him and leave him sore and gaping. Tim starts to float away on a wave of pleasure, his hard cock trapped beneath his stomach and leaking onto the bench, soothed into a sort of trance by the steady rhythm of the stranger’s thrusts, everything warmth and pleasure and sensation.
The stranger behind him lets out a groan. “What a good slut you are. Such a perfect little hole.”
Tim gives another moan as the words hit him, sending a sharp wave of heat right towards his cock. The man is right, he is a slut. Face down, ass up in a sex club, letting this man fuck him, use him, when he doesn’t even know his name. Hasn’t even seen his face. Because he’s a needy, desperate slut, and he’ll just let anyone fuck him.
The man’s thrusts speed up, his hips slamming hard into Tim’s ass as his cock thrusts roughly inside of him. “That’s it, fucking take it, fuck.” The man stills as he comes with a groan, his cock twitching inside of Tim’s hole. Tim whimpers in arousal, rubbing his cock against the bench. He did it, the man came inside him. He used Tim’s hole to make himself come. Used Tim’s body like a toy to get himself off. The thought is unbearably hot, and Tim squirms against the bench.
The man pulls out, and there’s more shuffling noises, and the sound of something being tossed into the nearby trashcan.
“He seems like he liked that.” It’s a new voice, and Tim realizes that someone must have been watching that. The thought makes him shudder. They’d seen Tim get fucked like a cheap whore. No, not even good enough to be a whore. Whores get paid for their time. Tim’s just a cockslut, a toy for public use, doing this just to get his desperate, needy hole filled.
There’s a laugh. “Oh, I know he did. His little cock is so hard, look.” It’s the first man again. There’s footsteps and movement behind him, presumably the men shuffling around so they can see how turned on Tim is, his aching cock drooling against the bench.
“Oh, he is.” A third voice, also deep and male. “My turn?”
“Be my guest,” the second man replies. As though he’s the one who decides who gets to fuck Tim next, and not Tim himself. Because Tim’s just a little toy, just a public cocksleeve.
There’s more footsteps and shuffling noises. Tim wonders if the first man has left, or if he’s just moved to the benches, to watch Tim get fucked some more.
Another cock pushes inside of him. This one is a little thinner, but longer, pushing deep, deep inside Tim, into places that haven’t been touched yet. Tim lets out a soft, high noise as the man bottoms out, his cock pushing deep inside of him.
“You alright, baby?”
Tim nods into the pillow. “Mmm-hmm.”
A dark chuckle. “Okay, baby.” The man starts to move then, fucking into Tim in long strokes, pulling almost all the way out before driving in again. There’s a curve to him that makes his cock drag tantalizingly against Tim’s prostate with every thrust, and Tim makes these soft little high yelps, grinding his cock into the bench.
“That’s so nice, baby. What a good boy you are.” The praise makes Tim shudder. God, he doesn’t even know this man, hasn’t ever met him before, but the praising words still make Tim melt. It makes everything a puddle of pleasure and euphoria. Tim’s a good boy. He’s being good, letting these men fuck him, letting them use him to come. He’s being useful. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Everything else melts away. For once, Tim doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to plan. The constant rush of thoughts in his head quiets for the moment, and he can just be happy. He’s a good boy. He’s a useful toy. He’s doing everything right, and he doesn’t need to worry. He can just be.
“Give it to him good.” It’s yet another voice, Tim’s pretty sure. It’s followed by a chorus of agreement, and Tim wonders just how many people are watching him.
“What a sweet little toy,” someone coos. It’s a woman’s voice this time, and for some reason, that makes Tim squirm.
“Yeah, he is,” the man fucking Tim agrees, panting heavily. He slams in deep, and Tim lets out a cry. “Perfect little fucktoy. Such a good bitch.” He thrusts a few more times, and then comes with a satisfied sigh.
Tim’s hole flutters as the man pulls out. He’s starting to feel fucked by now, the first two men having taken that desperate edge off, but it’s not enough, he still wants more. Luckily, they don’t make him wait, and another cock is soon fucking into him, filling his greedy hole right up. Tim gives a moan of relief as he’s filled right back up again. He doesn’t want to be empty.
This man shoves as deep as he can into Tim and grinds in tiny little motions, the head of his cock rubbing mercilessly directly into Tim’s prostate. Tim makes an embarrassing whine of a sound, grinding his own cock into the bench, overcome with the feeling, feeling so damn good.
“You like that?” The man’s voice is low and dark, murmuring close to Tim’s ear, still grinding into him, making Tim squirm on his cock. “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Gonna come just from being used? You’re gonna be a good little fucktoy and let all of us use your little hole as many times as we want, is that right? Go on, sweetheart. Show us how much you love this.”
Tim feels the heat building inside of him, the grind of the man’s cock too perfect, too delicious, his own cock thrusting against the material of the bench, through the little puddle of precome that Tim’s cock has left behind. The man’s words reach Tim’s ear as though through a haze, coaxing him on, praising him, and Tim comes with a scream, his cock twitching against his stomach, coating the bench in spurts of come. Everything disappears, replaced by an overwhelming, crashing wave of pleasure, and Tim rides it out, grinding into the bench and wailing, his hole clenching down repeatedly on the stranger’s cock as he comes.
“So fucking good,” the man says approvingly. “Good cockwhore, that’s it.” There’s several noises of agreement from behind him, from the people watching. Tim collapses into a bench in a daze, and the man starts fucking him properly, thrusting in and out of his hole.
“What a perfect slut,” someone says from behind him.
“How many cocks do you think he can take?” another voice asks.
“All of us, at least,” comes the reply. Tim thinks they’re all people who have spoken before, but he’s not sure, in a dreamy trance by now, head completely empty of anything but bliss.
The third man growls as he comes, and as soon as he pulls out, another cock is replacing it, driving into Tim frantically. This one doesn’t waste any time, taking him hard and fast.
“Take it, you little whore.” There’s a slap to Tim’s ass and he whines. “Take it, take it, fuck!”
The fourth man swears loudly, and Tim feels him filling up the condom, coming inside of Tim. Tim wriggles in happiness, knowing he’s made them all come, made them all happy. He’s a good boy, he is.
Another man replaces him quickly. This one’s cock is bigger than the others, one of the thickest ones Tim’s ever felt. Tim breathes in and out carefully as the man slides into him, bearing down on it, opening up. There’s a slapping noise as their hips hit together, a soft wet noise as the lube-covered cock pushes in and out of Tim’s hole, but the man doesn’t say anything. Tim’s cock starts to fill again as he’s fucked, all nice and full, hole perfectly stretched by that big fat cock. All he can do is lie there and take it, and he’s completely satisfied to do just that.
There’s a short pause after the fifth man finishes and pulls out, and a mumbling of voices, the words of which Tim doesn’t quite catch. It’s getting later and the clubs getting busier, there’s more noises coming from elsewhere in the hallway, and several footsteps as people shuffle around.
Tim feels fingers at his hole again. “You getting sore, baby?”
Tim nods. His hole feels nice and used by now, starting to feel tender. Well fucked out.
“You all done for the night?”
Tim immediately shakes his head. He can take more. He wants to take more, wants to be ruined, wants his hole to be so sore that it aches for a week, that he won’t be able to sit at his desk at WE tomorrow. He wants them to bruise him, to make it last, so he can remember this, remember how fucking good it felt.
There’s a little chuckle. “Okay, baby.” And once again, a cock pushes into his hole.
Tim loses track of time, his head empty of anything but how happy he is, how good this feels, the beautiful, all-encompassing sensation of being fucked, the steady rhythm of the strangers’ thrusts. The man currently inside him goes for a long time, thrusting inside of Tim’s hole at a gentle pace, before eventually coming quietly.
“Thank you, baby,” the man murmurs. “That was such a nice fuck.”
Tim smiles into the pillow, happy and exhausted. “Y’r welcome,” Tim mumbles out.
The man gives a gentle, kind laugh. “Oh, baby. You’re just gone, aren’t you?”
He’s right. Tim is barely there anymore, floating away, all blissed out.
“I’ll let your boyfriend take care of you, then.” Distantly, Tim’s confused. Boyfriend? He hasn’t got a boyfriend. “Thanks for letting us use your boy, he was perfect.” There’s a gentle pat against Tim’s hip, and then the man is gone.
There’s a gentle hand stroking across Tim’s skin. It’s big, the long fingers splayed out reaching nearly across the width of his back. The fingers are heavily calloused, and Tim shivers at the new texture, the sensation blending with everything else. The hand is warm and gentle, and Tim leans back into the kind touch.
There’s another dull pressure at Tim’s hole. His hole protests a little, starting to properly ache now. Tim’s all worn out and satisfied. But he can take one more, the soreness of a good fuck is the good kind of pain. The beautiful, deep, pleasurable kind of pain.
There are two hands on his shoulders as his man pushes his cock in. Tim breathes out a sigh, squeezing down around this new cock, reveling in the pleasure-pain of it all, the stiffness of his muscles from holding his position for so long, the persistent ache of arousal and his cock brushes up and down the bench. It’s all kinds of perfect. Tim rubs his cock into the bench, and wonders if he’ll get to come again.
“You look beautiful like this.”
The words cut through Tim’s haze, sending a sharp shock of recognition through his dreamy, blissed-out mind. Because he knows that voice.
For the first time since he settled himself on the bench, Tim pushes up on his elbows, twisting his neck around so he can look at the man whose cock is inside him. “Damian?”
Sure enough, Damian’s bright green eyes are looking back at him. Damian towers over Tim now, and Tim cranes his head up to look Damian in the eye. Damian’s bigger, bulkier frame fairly dwarfs Tim. Which is something he already knew, of course, but not quite so intimately. Damian’s dressed casually, a black t-shirt stretched over his big muscled shoulders, a pair of well fitted dark jeans tugged down just enough so he could get his cock out. Damian’s hands slide down off of Tim’s shoulders, coming to rest on Tim’s hips. Damian’s eyes are burning, full of lust and want and hunger.
“Should I stop?” Damian asks him quietly, his eyes boring deep into Tim’s. He rocks his hips slightly, moving his cock inside Tim. Tim shudders at the feeling, his hole fluttering down on Damian’s cock. God, that’s Damian. Damian is inside of him, filling him up so perfectly, and Tim can hardly believe his own eyes. “Tell me, and I’ll leave you to your night.”
There’s no judgement in Damian’s eyes. No derision at the discovery that Tim’s in a darkened corner of Gotham, letting strangers fuck him just for thrills. Just a question, and the spark of wanting behind it.
Tim reaches back with one arm and grabs Damian by the hip, pushing him deeper into Tim’s body. “Don’t stop.”
The noise Damian makes then is more like a growl than anything else, all pleased and satisfied. Tim drops back down onto the bench, pushing his face back down into the pillow. “Please, Dami, don’t stop.”
Damian starts to move his hips and Tim moans as Damian starts to rock into him, gently at first. “Please, harder?” Tim pushes his hips back into Damian’s touch. “Please, I need it, please, Dami,” Tim begs.
Damian gives him what he asks for and starts driving into him ruthlessly. It’s better than all the other fucks before, and not just because Tim’s already so sore, and every thrust is a beautiful burning wave of overstimulation. It’s because Damian grabs onto his hips hard enough to leave claiming fingerprint bruises. It’s because the sounds of Damian’s heavy breathing are so familiar to him, the sounds of his exertion a steady rhythm of air that Tim could recognize anywhere. It’s because Damian handles him with such confidence, just like he knows exactly what Tim wants, like inside of Tim’s wrecked and ruined hole is exactly where Damian belongs, exactly where he’s going to stay.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Damian murmurs again, fucking roughly deep into Tim’s hole now. “So gorgeous, when you’re being used.”
Tim lets out a soft cry at those words. Damian watched him, saw him being used by all those strangers. Tim wonders how long Damian’s been there, how many men he saw fuck Tim, use his little hole. Tim was sort of vaguely aware that he was risking someone he knew seeing him like this, but it’s one thing to know that and another thing to realize that Damian, of all people, found him face-down and ass-up, under a sign that read “free to use.”
“Did you watch?” Tim asks breathlessly. He just has to know.
Damian slams all the way into him, bottoming out with a groan. “Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
Damian presses his chest against Tim’s back, and grinds into him in these delicious little movements, the weight of his strong frame pressing Tim hard into the bench. Damian’s body completely engulfs Tim’s, and it makes Tim feel so small, so held, so safe. Damian leans down close, and speaks softly, right into Tim’s ear, his tone intensely sincere. “Yes.”
Tim makes a helpless, desperate whine, bucking back onto Damian’s cock. His own cock is firmly trapped between his stomach and the bench, but it still twitches, achingly hard, desperate for release.
“Didn’t I tell you you’re beautiful when you’re being used?” Damian continues in a dark, gravelly tone, a low-pitched, husky growl that's almost as deep as Batman’s voice. “I watched all those men fuck you, and I watched you cry out and beg them for more.”
Tim chokes out a cry, somewhere being embarrassed at being caught and desperately turned on from having his secret discovered. “Damian. Damian.” He can’t think of anything else to say, can barely think at all. “Please.”
“Oh, but I could have been anyone,” Damian murmurs into his ear, still in that low rumble. “You didn't know it was me. It could have been anyone with their cock inside you. How many of our friends have fucked you, I wonder? It could have been any of them, and you would never have known.”
Tim cries out at the thought, clenching involuntarily on Damian’s cock. “I don’t know! Please fuck me, Dami, please use me. Want you to come inside me, want you to use me to come. Use me like a toy, Dami, please!”
Damian makes a dark noise and leans back, starts moving again, thrusting roughly into Tim’s hole. “You little slut. What a whore for cock you are.”
Tim sobs into the pillow, his cock twitching at Damian’s words. “Yes, I’m just a little whore! Please, I just want to be a good toy, please use me, Dami, please.”
Damian slams into him, and Tim fairly wails as the head of his cock shoves roughly into Tim’s prostate. “You’re such a good toy. You’re perfect. You took all those cocks so well, so beautifully. What a gorgeous, perfect slut.”
Tim whimpers, grinding his cock into the bench and squeezing his hole down on Damian’s cock. He’s sore and aching and so, so close. Damian's praise is like a rain of heat, like everything Tim needs.
“Are you going to come on my cock?” Damian’s breathing is heavy now, like he’s been in a fight for his life. “Be a good whore and come for me. I want to feel it.”
“Damian,” Tim gasps out. “Please, please-”
“So good,” Damian growls out, “So good, go on-”
Tim comes with a scream, coating his own chest with his release, warm liquid spattering all over the bench and his own skin, his hole squeezing down over and over on Damian’s cock and his orgasm rips through him.
“So good,” Damian gasps. “God, you-” and then he swears a few choice words in Arabic, the language coming flowing out of him in a stream and he drives into Tim’s hole again, and again, and then slams balls deep and goes still, his cock pulsing inside of Tim’s hole as he comes.
Tim moans softly as Damian drapes over his back again, still panting heavily. Tim is still glowing, all blissed out and dreamy from being used so perfectly, so thoroughly, from his second, overwhelming orgasm. God, that really just happened. Damian really just found him in a public sex club and fucked Tim in the ass until they both came. They really did that.
Tim’s not sure how much time passes, the weight of Damian’s body pressing down on him like a comforting, heavy blanket. Damian rests his head on Tim’s back and strokes Tim’s shoulder with his thumb, mumbling to him softly. Tim catches maybe one word in five, but he gets “beautiful” and “good” and the occasional “fuck.”
Eventually, though, the weight on top of him disappears. Tim blinks his eyes open, disoriented, and moves to sit up. He needs to disinfect the bench, reset the stall, get his pants back on. This is the part Tim hates most, where he has to bring himself back up enough that he can get himself home, leave that sweet, sleepy, blissed-out place and turn back into himself, always thinking, always planning, always taking care of what needs taking care of. And right now, what needs taking care of is cleaning up this stall.
Tim pushes up onto his knees, then slowly stands up. He’s stiff and sore, and his muscles protest. He’ll need to do some serious stretching before he goes to bed tonight. Tim turns around and catches sight of Damian switching the light from yellow to blue. Cleanup time.
Damian glances back over at him. He’s done his pants back up, and looks slightly sweaty and disheveled, but mostly like he always does. “Are you alright?”
Tim nods. He’s suddenly aware that he’s standing naked in front of a fully-clothed Damian, his own slowly drying come splattered over his chest, and flushes red in embarrassment. Although that might be a silly thing to feel embarrassed by, considering Damian's been inside of him.
Damian grabs a packet of wet wipes from one side and takes a step closer. “May I?”
Tim blinks, feeling slightly slow and stupid. “Y-yeah.”
Damian’s touch is gentle, even if the wipes are uncomfortably cold. He brings one arm around Tim, and Tim leans into it, feeling suddenly unsteady. Damian cleans him up carefully, and then shuffles them forwards, maneuvering Tim into a chair. He pushes Tim down into it gently, and Tim goes, curling up into himself tiredly.
Tim watches as Damian gets a clean cloth and a bottle of sanitizer and diligently cleans off the bench, wiping all of Tim’s sweat and come away. A few people walk past, but don’t do more than glance inside. Any crowd that had gathered has dispersed by now. Damian tosses the rag into the hamper, tucks the bottle away, and goes to retrieve Tim’s things from the corner. Damian cleans off the plug and slips it into his pocket. Tim flushes again at that, but Damian just glances over and smiles at him gently. He crouches down in front of Tim’s chair on one knee, and helps Tim back into his shorts, moving his legs around. Tim’s grateful for the help, because his whole body feels slow and sluggish, like he never wants to move again.
“Timothy,” Damian says quietly. The sound of his name is enough to make Tim blink, to refocus his thousand-yard stare and look into Damian’s eyes. Kneeling in front of Tim, he’s still nearly eye-level with Tim in the chair. “Tim. Will you come home with me?”
His voice is so gentle, so kind, that it almost makes Tim want to cry. He finds his voice, but it comes out in barely a whisper. “Why?”
Damian reaches a hand out and strokes Tim’s hair, the pads of his fingers pushing gentle, firm circles into Tim’s scalp. Tim leans into it, the sensation somehow overwhelmingly strong, and so soothing. “Just to sleep. Nothing more. Let me bring you home safely. Let me hold you longer.”
Tim feels tears prick in his eyes. He does want to be held. And he trusts Damian. “Yes.”
Damian stands and offers a hand to Tim. Tim takes it and lets Damian pull him up and wrap him in a warm, strong hug. Tim nuzzles his face into Damian’s broad chest, and sighs happily as Damian cups the back of his head with one strong hand.
“We’re gonna have to talk about this, aren’t we,” Tim mumbles into Damian’s chest.
“Not till morning,” Damian promises. His voice is still all low and gravelly, and Tim can feel the bassy vibrations rumbling through Damian’s chest with his face pushed up close to it. “For now, just this.”
Tim nods against Damian’s chest. “Okay.” He tilts his head up so he can look Damian in the eye. Damian looks- sort of fiercely protective. It’s a look Tim’s rarely seen on him, except with stray animals and abused children. It’s somewhere between deeply weird and extremely wonderful to have that look turned onto him.
Tim lifts up on his toes, tilting his head to one side, hesitantly moving in closer. Damian ducks his head down and meets him halfway, their lips meeting in a soft, slow kiss. It’s gentle and comforting, and perfect. And it lasts a good long while, Damian keeping a gentle grip on the back of Tim’s head as he kisses him over and over.
Tim pulls back and looks up at Damian, who’s gazing back at him with an expression of such open fondness in his green eyes that it takes Tim’s breath away, and all he can do is gaze up at him.
“Yes?” Damian asks, stroking Tim’s hair again.
Tim smiles up at him. He's exhausted but so, so happy. “Take me home.”