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"Listen," his voice was firm, his gaze steady. "You can back out at any time."
"I know," speaking quietly, with a nod.
"Any time," he repeats for emphasis. "Signal to me that you've had enough, and I'll pull you out."
"Okay," another nod, even with a half-smile.
"You're going to be uncomfortable."
"I know."
"It will get worse before it's over."
"I understand."
Silence.
The man rises to his feet, and reaches out to adjust the boy's collar, making sure he looks presentable. "Good boy."
-
"I must say," in a gruff voice, an old man speaks around the cigarette in his mouth, "You've got quite a specimen there."
"Thank you," Bruce puts on his best smile, teeth and all. "He was difficult to find."
"I'd expect so," the old man nods, "He's impressive." He reaches out, placing a hand on Dick's arm, squeezing it gently, "He seems very... fit."
"Don't touch him," Bruce growls.
The old man pulls back his hand, sending him a look of alarm.
Bruce corrects his statement, with a grin, "Only I can touch him." He pats his boy on the shoulder, "I paid a lot of money for him."
And the old man laughs. "I understand." He pulls out the cigarette, and stares at the smoke when he exhales. "But it's a shame. I'd love to see more of him."
Dick is shaking beneath his hand. Bruce notices. He gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but he knows it doesn't do enough to calm his nerves.
Stay strong.
Dick's eyes, focusing on Bruce and watching him carefully, as he tells the man with his usual bravado, "Well, there's no harm in a free show." Dick's shaking, but his face doesn't respond. He's been trained well.
Bruce hates that. But he's proud, too. Dick is so strong. Stronger than Bruce could have ever been, at his age.
"Just remember," Bruce says out loud, as he reaches towards Dick's collar, and starts to unbutton the boy's shirt. "Only I can touch him." He sends a glance over his shoulder, a threatening spark of darkness in his eyes, "Anyone who touches him," he surveys around the room, at the moving shadows, the bystander thugs that have been too reluctant to speak, even as they slowly draw closer, "will lose that hand."
"Understandable," and the old man laughs. He sits back in his chair, and slides a fresh cigarette into his mouth, "Now let's see your treasure."
-
Smooth skin, shining beneath the dim lights. His legs are slender and defined, and Bruce forgets how delicate Dick's body looks, forgets how slender and fit and tight his body is. Forgets how small he is. He runs a hand up his leg and feels him shiver. Hears him gasp when his hand dances across his penis, as it starts to stiffen.
Legs spread, Dick sits on the table like a patient in a doctor's office, spread for all to view. Bruce allowed him to keep his shirt on--to spare some of his pride--but it's falling open, exposing tight muscles and the hint of a nipple when he leans back to get a little more comfortable. He props himself back on his hands and looks up at Bruce with a look of apprehension; but Bruce knows the truth. Dick is ready. He's prepared. He's always been prepared.
For Bruce, Dick will do anything.
Bruce hates it. But he's proud, too.
When Bruce kneels in front of him, he puts on a signature grin, the kind he's perfected. It turns his stomach to do it, but it's all a part of the game. It's the game that Dick's familiar with. It's the game they're both playing, and they've come much too far to back down now. No matter how much he'd rather spare Dick the shame of this, they have both come too far. Dick has come too far, for Bruce to show him that mercy. It would insult him.
So Bruce continues on. A firm hand on Dick's slender thigh, and a subsequent shiver from the boy when Bruce licks the side of his cock, gently and cautiously. Licks up from the base to the tip, slowly to tease.
"Does he respond?" the old man says, from behind him.
Bruce has to bury his annoyance. The nerve, to even ask that question. "Yes," Bruce grins. "He will."
Dick is looking at him hesitantly.
Bruce tries to think of a way to keep it painless. "His body will react," he says. "But he's not used to doing this in front of others," he forces a laugh.
"I understand," and the old man is silent again.
Bruce notices something that he's quick to point out. "You see," he kisses the tip again, as his fingers dance around the soft skin of the boy's cock, stroking and tugging gently, "He's already getting bigger."
They're attracting a crowd. Of course they are. For these freaks, this is a sight to behold. Dick is a beautiful boy. His skin is smooth and soft, and he's taking on the kind of submissive role that must fuel their fantasies.
When Bruce resumes licking and kissing Dick's cock, he hears a few zippers coming undone. Disgusting. But it motivates him, because they've come too far, now. Give these bastards a show.
His cock is so soft. Even as he can feel it growing firmer and larger between his lips, it feels so soft to the touch. He tastes warm and smooth, and it reminds Bruce of how incredibly young this boy is. It makes him realize what he's doing to him, and he has to pause to fight the sudden turn in his stomach.
Bruce places a hand on Dick's chest. Feels for his heartbeat. So fast, so fast. Tries to calm him down as he soothes a hand across his exposed nipple, caresses it as he returns his mouth to his cock. "Shh," he even says, so faint that only the boy can hear it, as he kisses the tip for emphasis.
His hand travels down to his waist, as he feels how tense his body is. Lets his hand travel over his smooth hip, and lets that hand reach across it, sliding beneath his ass cheek as he gives it a squeeze. Squeezes as he kisses his cock, making love to it and fighting the urge to enjoy it--that spark of joy, when he tastes a drop of precum on the boy's cock--fighting the urge to enjoy what he's doing to him.
But he's getting hard. He's getting very, very hard.
He licks the tip and decides this isn't enough. This won't be enough. His restraint is not convincing enough. Dick's current situation--exposed as he is, but not nearly enough--is not enough for their audience.
So he stops. Bruce stands up, and looks down at him. Notices Dick's cock as it shines beneath the light, wet with his spit. Fights the sudden surge of guilt. "Remove the rest of your clothes," he says.
When there's some hesitation, Bruce says, with a gentle hit to his shoulder, "Come on, boy."
Remember what I told you.
He keeps an eye on Dick, for the sign that he's backing out. The hand sign that says he can't complete the mission. It doesn't come.
He rises to his feet, legs and cock naked in front of everyone as he strips off the rest of his clothes, completely exposing himself. He drops his shirt and tie to the floor and stares at Bruce with curious, dark eyes as Bruce subsequently removes his belt.
Remember what I told you.
Bruce unzips his pants, and slides them down.
He's still looking for the sign.
He takes off his jacket and shirt, so they don’t impede his movement. Removes his boxers, settling them onto the floor next to Dick's shirt.
Remember what I said.
It doesn't come.
-
Dick recalls thinking that the table is cold against his back. Of all the things he expected, he didn't expect that. It's cold and it makes him uncomfortable, but the more they move on top of it, the warmer it feels.
His body doesn't want to accept Bruce inside of him. He knows that. He's still too new to this. He didn't take Bruce's training seriously enough. He'd finally managed to fit a dildo inside of him, but he hadn't done it often enough. Not as often as Bruce suggested, to be sure. Bruce was trying to spare him of pain. He understood this. But despite his concern, Bruce felt obligated to put on the display of having sex with him. Dick understood this, too.
It's only the second time Bruce has tried to enter him. It's more fascinating than it should be. More of a turn on than it should be. Dick is staring down at the man's cock, which is surprisingly large--he's bigger than the dildo, that's for sure--and he genuinely starts to wonder if it will ever fit. But so far they're only at one failed try, and Bruce laughed it off by saying "my toy" was nervous.
Dick needs to make this work. Needs to make this work for him. They've come too far, now. They must complete the mission.
So he takes a deep breath. Tries to relax himself, the way Bruce told him to. Looks up at Bruce, noticing how serious his face is, how stoic he seems as he presses the tip of his cock against his entrance. Notices how focused he is, as he smooths it across his hole, smoothing lubricant around in small circles.
It's cold. Dick is still so cold.
Come on, he wants to urge him on, but he can't break character. He just wants this to happen.
He wants to make him proud.
Bruce is pushing in.
Dick can't help it; he has to grind his teeth to keep from crying out at the sudden discomfort, because he's being stretched open and it hurts in a way he's never felt before. This isn't like the training. Bruce is larger. Firmer. His body does not want to give and let him in, but Bruce is pushing inside him anyway, and it hurts.
Dick lets out a hiss, and Bruce sends him an urgent, questioning look. Dick stares back up at him, bites his lip and nods, Go on, as Bruce continues to move in. Dick closes his eyes, and tries to relax. Bruce is so large. Bruce is so large. And he doesn't know how this much of anything is fitting inside him-
When Bruce pulls back for the first time and thrusts, Dick has to cry out. He's cursing at himself when he bites his lip to stay silent, hoping to ease some of the tension out by chewing on himself. It's just-
Bruce is so large. And the feeling of that large cock moving through him is- It feels like he's being hollowed out. Like his whole body is being fucked. He didn't know it could feel this deep. He didn't know he could feel this penetrated by anything before.
He starts to hear a sound. Confusing at first, then disgusting when he realizes what it is. Hands. Zippers. Slick and wet noises. The sound of flesh against flesh. The crowd. These disgusting men. They're masturbating.
That upsets Dick. Far more than the sex.
He raises a hand towards Bruce, wanting to touch him for reassurance. But he's scared to break character, so it lingers between them, idly reaching out and halting in motion when he's overcome by another deep thrust.
Bruce grabs that hand. Places it against his chest. Dick nods slightly, and smooths across his torso, amazed and impressed by how it feels. He's never touched Bruce like this before. Never without his shirt on. Bruce's skin is hot and rough and fascinating. His muscles are tight and impressive, and in a way, the more he looks at him, at his chest and the way he moves above him, the calmer he starts to feel. Because he's realizing that it's Bruce fucking him. As painful as this is, as uncomfortable and horrible as it is for these men to watch them doing this, he's having sex with Bruce. His Bruce.
He bends the rules slightly. Raises both hands to press against Bruce's chest, as he closes his eyes and smooths across his skin. He likes his warmth. He likes how he feels. And Bruce's cock starts to feel better inside of him, as he gets used to it. It starts to feel reassuring in a way, like a reassurance of a job well done. Because he was able to fit Bruce inside him. He's been able to withstand his thrusts. And now, he's able to find some comfort in this, to get hard and aroused and-
Aroused. Is he supposed to be aroused? But he is...
Bruce is so-
Bruce is-
Bruce positions his hands on either side of Dick's slender chest as he looks down at him, driving into him a little harder. And he starts to speak out loud. Dick knows it's the character--it's the character speaking--but he likes it. It turns him on.
"Good boy," he says. "God, you're so tight. Good boy."
Dick wanted to be good. He wanted to be a very good boy for him. He closes his eyes and listens, as Bruce ups his pace and starts to pound hard enough to disrupt his breathing. He hits deep enough for it to hurt and feel so good at the same time that he's starting to gasp out loud.
"You're so tight. You're so goddamn tight."
Yes-
"Good boy," another thrust, and Dick is almost sobbing from the slow burn of pleasure inside his body, "You feel so good. So good."
"How good," Dick whispers at him.
A pause of hesitation, and in that silence, all he can hear is Bruce's deep breathing. Deep and fast, like he's- Like he's turned on. He has to be. Bruce is turned on. And the more Dick thinks about that, the better this feels.
"So good," Bruce says, words ragged as he thrusts, and the table starts to shake, "I could fuck you all the time. I could fuck you every day."
"Please," Dick whispers. Please. Tell me more.
"I could fuck you anywhere," Bruce says. "In front of everyone." He has to pause to sigh, a pained sort of gasp that must be from pleasure. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."
"Yes," Dick almost whines, because oh my god, oh my god-
"I'm gonna come inside you," Bruce growls at him.
"Yes," Dick raises his voice. It can't be helped. When Dick looks up, Bruce is leaning over him. He's so close. So close to him. he's captivated by the man. Captivated by his dark eyes, and his flushed face. Captivated by his wet lips and the visible hint of his tongue when he sighs. Captivated by the sweat on his forehead and the stare he's sending him, a look of hunger and-
Bruce is kissing him. Bruce is kissing him, crushing their mouths together, and Dick almost sobs into it, overwhelmed and desperate when he parts his lips and feels Bruce's tongue assaulting his. This kiss is unlike any Dick has ever known before. It's so hot. It's so hot, and wet, and hungry and-
Bruce's tongue is massaging against his as he continues to fuck him, and Dick is certain he starts to moan. He moans and whines into his mouth, because his body hurts, his entire body hurts with a need to-
A need to come.
He's coming, riding out the intense heat of pleasure as Bruce makes love to his mouth and speeds up his thrusts. It hurts. It hurts, but it's so good. So good, in the dizzying way that makes no sense and makes him want to do this forever. His body is hollowed out and fucked and pushed around and as he comes down from what could be his first orgasm, Dick is sighing pleasantly when Bruce lets the kiss break. His eyes heavy as he stares up at his lover, and delicately presses against the very wet tip of his bouncing cock.
Bruce notices it. He's looking. And despite how sore it is to touch, Dick palms his cock gently, smoothing his own ejaculate across his fingertips as Bruce watches with obvious fascination.
Bruce stifles what could be a moan. Closes his eyes, and almost seethes with rage--just for a moment--before his hips jerk, and he halts in motion. Halts as he slowly pushes as far inside as he'll go, and Dick immediately notices the warmth inside him, warmth spreading like Bruce is- Like Bruce is-
Bruce is emptying his cum inside him.
Oh God.. Oh my god.
Dick feels warm and hot, and it's like that warmth eases the pain and ache of having sex. It soothes and relaxes him, and when Bruce finally relaxes and looks down at him again, they exchange a look of mutual acceptance. Mutual peace. Bruce gives him one more kiss, an almost chaste but affectionate touch of their lips together before he leans back and slowly, gently slides himself out.
God, he feels so empty. Dick feels so empty now. The rush of air to his entrance is startling. It's uncomfortable, and-
Bruce leans down, with a resolved sigh to himself as Dick feels his coarse tongue against his cock. Feels him lick and suck against him like he's servicing him, but Dick knows what this is. Bruce is keeping him clean. Bruce is obsessive, that way. He can't stand for Dick to ever stay messy, whether it's from dirt, mud, blood or--now, apparently--cum.
But Dick thinks he enjoys what he's doing to him now, too. He thinks he likes the taste. Bruce spares no drop, cleaning him like he's his property. Cleaning him like he belongs to him.
And Dick, suddenly, alarmingly, wishes he did.
It's frightening.
I want to be yours.
-
"Are you alright," Bruce is asking. He looks over at Dick, who hasn't said a word since they got in the car.
"Are we gonna get him," Dick's asking.
"Yes," Bruce says, firmly. "We only need a little more research to submit to Gordon."
"Gotcha," Dick says.
Bruce is pulling the car over, onto the side of the road. Parks it, in silence. When he looks at Dick, the boy is staring back with wide eyes. Concerned eyes.
"Are you alright," Bruce repeats.
Dick is hesitant to respond.
"Tell me you're okay," Bruce says.
"I am," Dick tells him. He means that.
Bruce knows he does, but that doesn't make it easier. Doesn't make it easier that they just had sex. Doesn't make it easier than he just violated him in front of a crowd of perverts.
"I shouldn't have done that," he says.
"No," Dick says.
Bruce looks at him.
"Don't do that," he places a small hand on his arm. His hand, so small against Bruce's body. "It wasn't that bad. I survived," he even grins.
"Dick," Bruce says. The darkness in his eyes has returned. "We will never do that again."
No. Dick hates it. Dick hates that.
"Why," a quiet murmur is all he manages.
"Because it's disgusting," Bruce says, "And I will give in to the evil I am trying to fight."
"The evil?" Oh.
"I cannot become one of them," Bruce says.
But...
"Hey," Dick interrupts, "Does that mean you... liked it?"
"You did a good job," is all Bruce says.
"You liked it," Dick's teasing, but- That feels so-
That feels so good.
Bruce sighs.
No. No, Bruce-
"I liked it too."
Bruce's eyes grow wide. He stares at him in silence.
"I mean," he stifles a small grin, and what must be a blush in his face, "It hurt, but I really liked it. I liked being... that way with you."
"Dick," he's growling at him.
"I liked doing that with you."
Bruce frowns. Presses a hand against his forehead, massaging above his eyes like it'll relieve some stress. "You're thirteen years old," he says.
"Old enough to want you," he quips back.
"Dick..."
"Bruce," he playfully whines at him.
Bruce sighs.
The last of his resolve is crumbling. This boy. This boy.
"What I was doing... I felt it for real," Dick says quietly.
"I know," Bruce says.
Silence. Bruce finds himself overcome with shame. Disgust. Self-hatred.
This boy is thirteen years old. This boy. This beautiful, delicate boy-
When Dick undoes his seatbelt and crawls up in his seat, Bruce doesn't react. He waits. He waits, and tries to think. But the thoughts are coming too slow when Dick crawls over to him, legs settling over Bruce's thighs as Dick slides himself between Bruce and the steering wheel. Straddles his lap and stares right in his face.
Dick doesn't say a word, when he kisses him. Bruce doesn't say a word, when he kisses him back. Neither of them says a single thing, as they kiss deep and slow, tongues caressing each other as they swap spit between their mouths. Bruce's hand comes to rest against Dick's back. Dick starts to sigh into the kiss. Starts to sigh, and presses his body against Bruce's.
Presses his erection against Bruce's groin. Bruce has a hand on his back, and now his hips. Dick's pressing himself forward, moaning quietly when their erections start to touch, the tease of fabric between them somehow more alluring.
"We can't," Bruce says, once their mouths separate.
"Please," Dick says.
A moment of silence.
"Please. For me."
-
Somehow this is better than it was before. Maybe because it's only them now, alone in this vehicle. Maybe because it's only him and Dick, and there are no distractions to take his mind off this boy and his body, and his reactions, and the way he feels and tastes.
It was still difficult to slide himself inside Dick. But a little easier. Maybe because he's already a bit stretched out. For now. And it makes Bruce feel worse that his body hasn't even recovered yet, but it feels so good inside him that he doesn't stop. It feels so good- It feels so good inside his boy.
Dick is moaning on top of him, as he rocks himself up and down, making love to Bruce's cock. Bruce is battling--and losing--the fight to come soon. Dick is beautiful. Dick is beautiful and warm and aroused and fucking him is an absolute pleasure. Dick's body is hot and responsive and he spills out sounds with more confidence now, louder and more vocal since they're alone. His voice escalates in broken sighs and sobs and moans and Bruce trails kisses over his body, kissing him where he can reach. Kisses his chest, sucks on the soft skin on his neck as Dick continues to rock his hips when he settles against him, almost from exhaustion. So Bruce takes the hint. Starts to thrust up and inside him, taking the initiative when Dick falls completely still, moaning to himself as Bruce bounces him up and down.
Such beautiful sounds spill out of Dick's mouth. Sounds like he's crying.
This boy-
This beautiful boy.
I want to fuck you every single day. His mind returns to that dark place. I want to fuck you all the time.
Because Dick isn't one of his lovers. Dick isn't a casual partner. Dick isn't a fling that will never understand him. Dick isn't a partner that will never forgive him for his faults. For his darkness.
Dick is a beautiful boy. Dick is a beautiful human being.
And when he winds his arms around him, holding Dick close as he spills out moans and shakes, Bruce somehow feels complete. Like the way sex should feel, the way it hasn't felt for him in years. Sex when you truly want someone, when you enjoy them, when you...
When you just might love them.
The way sex feels, when you realize you do.
Dick comes, spilling himself across Bruce's chest. Bruce has to fight the urge to laugh a little, when Dick seems embarrassed. He's cute. So cute. Bruce kisses the side of his face and thrusts in silence for a few minutes more. Thrusts until he can't take it anymore, until he's too overwhelmed with lust and love and emotions and a sense of attachment and need-
He comes inside Dick for the second time in two days. Empties himself dry. Feels like he can't fill him enough.
Can't fuck him enough. Can't pleasure him enough. Can't love him enough.
Dick gives him a kiss, face flushed and lips red and it takes Bruce all of his willpower to not push himself inside him again.
Incomprehensible lust. The first of many inconvenient desires.
He lost the battle. Confronted his desire, dead-on and let it take over. Let it consume him. Let it burn him until he ended up with his cock inside this boy for no reason except that he asked politely, and he wanted it. They both wanted it. They wanted each other.
And from the way Dick is still kissing him, trailing gentle kisses across his face, this feeling shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. This mistake. This horrible lapse of judgment.
Bruce feels guilty. How could he not? This boy is thirteen years old.
When one of Dick's kisses passes over his lips, Bruce kisses him back.
But this is his boy.
Dick settles against him, and he's warm and soft and beautiful.
His boy.
If he has to become a monster, to make him happy. To pleasure him. To love him. So be it.
So be it.
Because deep down inside his soul, Bruce knows that he will never be like those men. There's a fundamental difference between him and them, and he knows it now. He understands it now. The more he kisses Dick, the more he understands. They don't love their toys. They would never love any single one of them, the way he loves Dick.
Dick is his partner. His friend. His companion, when everyone else would turn their back on him. The only one to stay at his side, when anyone else would walk away. When he has these disgusting thoughts, and Dick kisses them away without judgment. Dick, who only wants his love.
Dick is smiling against his lips, before he nearly laughs and kisses him again.
His beautiful boy.