theknightshift | Strictly Business (for prettyredbird)

Strictly Business (for prettyredbird)

[ When the drugs wear off, Bruce would be able to pinpoint exactly where his plans had gone awry. He's meticulous and precise and careful when it came to planning such large scale operations. There would never be room for error or miscalculation. He couldn't afford it if he was going to end Black Mask's trafficking ring.

Problem was, there had been a miscalculation. A grave one. A variable Bruce had been unable to account for and did not have the time to adapt to. That's how Bruce Wayne, who once might have been considered a respectable client here, was next up on the auction block, hands bound up tight behind him. The drugs were powerful, but Bruce was somehow still lucid enough to realize something wasn't right and if he wasn't bound good and tight, he'd have put up a decent enough fight. Roman Sionis couldn't have that. He's strong, all muscle and tall. He's handsome too. That makes him an easy product to push. Makes the prices jump considerably. They'd make a fortune.

It's hard to think through this fog. Hard to pin down where he is in relation to everyone else. Hard to know how exactly he was going to get out of this when his arms and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else.

Around him, he can hear shouting. Numbers. Bids rising higher and higher. Money he would have gladly parted with himself if he could bring himself to say something. His tongue felt heavy, unwieldy in his mouth. So he doesn't say anything at all. He just looks out at the crowd vying for him. Through the fog, Bruce reaches for clarity, clings to it wherever he can find it. Behind him, he tests the restraints. He's not strong enough to try that yet. But soon.

He only needed a few more minutes. Just a few more and this would all be over. ]

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[ For his part, Tim seems almost bored. Unfazed by the sight before him, content to sip idly at a very expensive cocktail while eager little idiots push up the price. He's younger than a fair amount of the clientele Roman draws in, but behind a plain black Venetian half mask it's a bit more difficult to tell. Anyone with a reputation to protect wouldn't show up to one of these things with their full identity on display. A sore loser missing out on a prize could start rumors, after all.

Speaking of which.

Tim waits until most of those bidding on the man drop out before lifting his own paddle. There's no desperation to the action, but each time the price went up, that paddle gave another flick. People around him grin and whisper little jokes about him wanting his back blown out. After all, who wouldn't want to take such a virile man right to their bedroom?

Bruce is pretty obviously drugged up. Would have to be, to keep him still. Tim idly wonders what they stuck him with, considering his size and carefully trained resistance to most drugs it must be incredibly powerful. Was it just to render him defenseless, or did they work out a concoction to make him obedient and improve his libido? There are all sorts of drugs these days.

As predicted, it was over in a few minutes. Over because Tim had won, not because Bruce had managed to work himself loose. He stands as the man is brought before him and isn't that an amusing sight. Bruce on a leash that's handed over to someone at least a half foot shorter and fifty pounds less than him. But while he's dwarfed by the man in front of him, Tim doesn't look the least bit intimidated. He's smirking. ]

The money is on the table. It's a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.

[ Though he's clearly speaking to both Roman and the guy that brought Bruce over, those icy blue eyes of his never leave the man that was just handed over to him. Does Bruce even recognize him, in this state? ]

[ It's that resistance that keeps Bruce upright for all the drugs they've put in him. The first dose did nothing and the guy who'd put the needle in his arm earned a broken hand for his trouble. The second and third slowed him down enough that a fourth could be given without much resistance. A fifth wasn't needed, but it was on standby. Just in case. Then they tied him up and put him on display.

When he's sold, when its announced, Bruce doesn't have enough clarity back to be humiliated. It only takes a tug on the leash and shove in the shoulders to get him to move. He's not as steady on his feet as he'd hoped because he stumbles and follows. Better to know now that escape would have been a disaster.

So he's obedient (for now), pliant enough that they don't have to shove him again to keep him moving. He stops when the handlers do and meets the gaze of the man that's purchased him. And he doesn't look away. It's the familiarity that has his attention and keeps it there. His name sits on the edges of his memory, just out of reach. He doesn't mean to, but he stares. ]

You..--

[ The rest he holds back. Thankfully he's aware enough not to announce he knows this man. It might make Roman change his mind and Bruce needed a way out of here. Tim's his safest bet. ]

[ The moment Bruce begins to speak Tim's eyes narrow dangerously. His free hand lifts so that skilled fingers can gently cup the man's jaw. It would almost be sweet, if it weren't for the sharpness to his gaze. Bruce has already gone quiet, but Tim uses the opportunity to his advantage regardless. He's been taught by the best, after all. ]

Whenever you address me, you will do so with respect.

[ There's no question to see if he's understood, that is simply expected. Tim turns that strong jaw left and then right, examining him up close. His pupils show the effect of the drugs as much as the stumbling had. They aren't likely to have any sort of antidote, Bruce is going to have to wait it out. He can't even estimate how long that's going to take.

And there's still work to be done. There's no reason not to gather as much intel on the ring as he can when he's given such a good opportunity. Who would understand that better than Bruce? The only harm that could come of it is a little extra embarrassment for the older man, but Tim thinks he'd agree it's a price worth paying. Anything for the mission, wasn't that what he was always taught?

At least this way Bruce's work wasn't all for naught. ]

Kneel.

[ The tug that Tim gives on the leash isn't particularly gentle. As for himself, he takes a seat in the chair at the table and picks up his drink again. Silently memorizes the faces of the men working for Roman while using his honed skills to figure out who the other masked figures might be. ]

[ There's something in Bruce that wants to be defiant. It rises up in his chest and pushes back against the drugs that keep him compliant. It makes his jaw tight, even though Tim is gentle in how he touches him there. Reminds him that he does not take orders. Not from anyone. But he's at the disadvantage. Reaction time is still too slow to do anything substantial except lower his gaze and blink away his frustration. ]

Yes, sir.

[ It comes out more sluggish than he'd like. His body's still working against him, the drugs set in deep like hooks in his muscles. He would have to wait. Normally, he wouldn't mind it. But his patience is worn thin. Not enough for anything reckless, but when he had more control, it could certainly become a problem.

Bruce's knees give easily when Tim tugs at his leash. It's a command he doesn't have a choice but to obey. Such a big man forced to kneel must have been quite the sight for the audience and the humiliation burns him. Part of him had hoped Tim wasn't going to linger. That he'd have pulled him out and gotten him back to the Cave. It didn't matter that if the roles were reversed, Bruce would be doing much the same. Tim wasn't Bruce.

After a minute, he lifts his head, turns it to look at Tim again. ]

Are we going to be here much longer? Sir?

[ Tim isn't Bruce, but he was trained by him. Watched his methods for years, took what he found useful and kept it in his own tool belt. And one of those methods is leaving emotions out of it. So as much as he should be empathetic, he just knows the mission needs to be completed. ]

We'll stay as long as I feel like it.

[ Another little sip of his drink before it's set down out of the way. Tim reaches for Bruce's jaw, tilts his head up so he can make him look in the eye. There's no warmth to be found, nothing that would give anyone a hint that he's known Bruce for a long time. Tim's always been particularly skilled at undercover work. ]

Be grateful that I'm not making a public demonstration out of who owns you now.

[ Everyone around them is staring, clearly hoping for a show. It's probably a nice mental image, someone pretty like Tim using a huge man like Bruce for pleasure. It's not anything he's willing to admit to himself just yet, but there's something dark inside of him that is breathed to life by the weight of the leash in his hand. The idea of pushing Bruce down and riding him hard doesn't disgust him the way it probably should.

He lets go of the man's jaw and glances back towards the stage, right back to collecting as much information as he can. ]

Now be a good boy and maybe I'll consider taking you home and using you properly.

[ When the drugs have cleared and Bruce is out of the fog, he'll agree Tim did the right thing. The mission would always come before personal safety, even Bruce's. It's hard to think in such absolutes, however, when he doesn't feel in control of anything. Not even his own body. When it feels like it takes ages to do simple things like blink or breathe or finish a thought.

He looks Tim in the eye and finally makes the connection. He knew this man. Tim Drake. It makes his heart race and there's a quiet hitch in his breathing. He'd never known Tim to speak to him like that and it feels. God it makes him feel too warm, like a fever flushing through him. If Tim wanted to make this into a public demonstration, Bruce isn't sure he'd have objected.

Maybe that thought should have disturbed him. It didn't. And it wasn't all of the drugs either. He swallows, rolls his shoulders because being tied is starting to set an ache there. He has to look away when Tim lets him go. He did not want to be caught staring. ]

Yes, sir.

[ A less behaved Bruce Wayne would have left Tim little choice but to put on a lewd demonstration. Tim, after all, cannot appear as anything but the sort of person perfectly fine with owning another human being, and punishment would be natural in the setting they find themselves in. But his mentor is behaving, and Tim is not the kind to force Bruce into something against his will without good reason.

If Tim wants to fantasize about what that might look like, that's his own business.

It's only once he's satisfied with what he's gathered that Tim finally stands. As he does, the effects of his fantasies becomes more apparent. He's noticeably half hard just from having Bruce on a leash being forced to listen to him. And isn't that something. It should go without comment, at least, because that doesn't seem like anything Bruce is going to bring up when they write a mission report. ]

Let's go.

[ Another rough tug on the leash to force the man to stand. That dark part of him would rather see Bruce crawl, but with his hands bound it's not an option. Pity. But it's time to lead him out of the warehouse, eyes all over the room still focused entirely on them. ]

[ Bruce's eyes are drawn to Tim's lap the second he's out of his seat. His lips part, his breathing heavier than it was just moments before. His own cock twitching at the sight. The cocktail swirls in his blood, twists something inside of him. He wants to ask what's on Tim's mind. But he's not given the chance.

When Tim tugs at his leash, rebellion flares to life in him again. The sort that starts hot like coals in the belly. The sort that might have put him in a difficult position if anyone other than Tim held his leash. He ignored it before because he really hadn't been in any place to do something about it. But it burns him, pushes against the docile kind of calm the drugs had been meant to introduce. It's supposed to make him obedient, open to suggestion. Compliant. Maybe they were losing their grip on him.

Because it's almost like he remembers he's bigger than Tim. Stronger too. And if he did not want to be moved, he would not be. So Tim tugs but Bruce doesn't move. He knows there are eyes on him, on them both. But he only looks at Tim. ]

Make me.

[ The smirk that curls onto Tim's lips is dark and vicious as he turns his head to eye the defiant man on his knees. Hard to tell whether it's genuine or if his keen undercover skills are hard at work. The young man steps closer to him, eyes lit with a dangerous gleam.

Their little audience will catch on if he doesn't do this now. No slave owner would look their other way when their shiny new toy was acting this way. ]

It appears that you still need to learn who owns you.

[ His skilled fingers grab a fist full of Bruce's dark hair at the back of his head. It's a tight grip, unyielding and mean. Tim uses that grip to force Bruce's head forward, drawing him closer until Tim's clothed cock is rubbing against his face. Those long, pretty eyelashes flutter at the pressure and the soft moan from his lips is entirely authentic. ]

If I feel even a hint of teeth, I'll have them torn out.

[ It's said like it's just that simple, like he's not threatening to permanently disfigure the man who taught him most of what he knows. Tim has all of the power right now, and the sooner Bruce accepts it the less he's going to have to physically hurt him. The humiliation will continue regardless. ]

Now tell me you want to taste my cock. Right here in front of everyone. Maybe if you ask nice enough I'll give it to you.

[ His head tilts as he looks down at Bruce. Fuck, he can feel precum soaking a small patch of his boxers. ]

[ He doesn't miss the vicious gleam in Tim's eye when he realizes his order had not been obeyed. It doesn't quell the defiance stirring hotly under Bruce's skin. Doesn't quell the flood of desire in his blood either. Tim was beautiful to look at, beautiful while he was fighting. Beautiful when he worked. Sometimes, Bruce had a hard time looking away.

Right then? He didn't want to. He meets Tim's gaze as he grips the back of his head, sets a hard line in his jaw, defiance in the face of the danger. His grip is strong, painful even, but Bruce knew how to compartmentalize, even under the influence it may as well be second nature. It's hard to say if he's caught on to the performance of it all. He's aware enough to know they have an audience. But the significance might be lost in the haze of everything else happening. He lets his head be maneuvered into place and Tim did not have to do much to encourage him. Bruce could not help but nuzzle into Tim's erection, welcoming the warmth of it against his cheek.

Bruce mouths at him over his expensive trousers and pulls back enough to look up at Tim from where he sits. Tim might notice how clear Bruce's eyes seem now, though his pupils are still blown wide. Though it might be less the drugs doing and more his own arousal. ]

I want to taste your cock, sir.

See, I knew you could be a good boy.

[ His voice is practically a purr, high on seeing someone so powerful reduced to nothing at his feet. The grip he has on Bruce's hair doesn't loosen though. Not yet, just in case. Tim's smart enough to know that his carefully maintained control is delicate and he had better not misstep. Even the clarity in the man's eyes doesn't soften his resolve. They are professionals. He's just doing what Batman would expect of him on a mission.

Tim had always thought that when it came to getting his dick out in public it would be at the very least something he thought through. Never imagined that he'd be reaching down to undo his slacks, and ease his erection out from his tight black boxer briefs so that it hung in Bruce's face. It was easy to pretend this was all for the mission, but that didn't really explain the eager twitch of his cock as it's freed.

There's a moment of indulgence when he rubs the hard flesh against Bruce's cheek, let's himself have a few quick little thrusts to help take some of the edge of. Then Tim's wrapping his hand around himself and rubbing the spongey head against Bruce's lips, smearing precum onto them. ]

Open up for me.

[ His voice drops lower, lust and pleasure turning it more husky. Tim's hips nudge forward, pressing against Bruce more insistently. ]

[ There's something in how Tim's performing his role to the letter. It stirs in Bruce deeply watching his boy be perfect just like he taught him to be that he doesn't waver even when Bruce's mind comes back to him by inches. It would be silly to deny this isn't something he wants, when his own erection is straining against the dirty sweats they shoved him in before putting him up for sale. Maybe he would have waited and wanted quietly until they had a little more privacy than this, but it is what it is and Bruce did not want this to stop. Not until he'd drained Tim dry.

His eyes drop to watch Tim's hands work his pants open. Wished his own were free so he could do it himself. Not that it truly mattered when the end result was the same: Bruce eying Tim's cock, looking fit to swallow it down. He flicks a knowing gaze up at Tim then slides his eyes shut when he feels it pushing against his cheek. At Tim's command, Bruce's lips part just enough that he can slide into it with little effort. He keeps his tongue flat, savoring the taste and the heat as Tim pushed as far as he wanted.

Bruce could take it. He looks up at Tim again because he wants to see the reaction, watch those pretty lashes flutter from the pleasure. That would be perfect too. ]

[ Those pretty eyelashes do flutter, long and dark and maybe a little bit too feminine. His lips part in a moan that's a little more high pitched but just soft enough that it probably couldn't be brushed off as performative. Tim isn't loud in general and has never been with anyone capable of changing that in the bedroom--further evidence that in that moment he's not strictly thinking about what their audience wants to hear.

The pretty pink that blossoms on his cheeks stretches downward past his collar, though how far it goes is a secret no one there is privy to. The wet warmth of Bruce's mouth is enough to have Tim's hips rocking forward insistently, forcing more of his cock along that amazing tongue until Bruce's nose is pressed against perfectly smooth skin. He makes his mentor to stay there for a moment, to really good a good feel for him, then eases himself back. But there's hardly time for a breath and then he really lets go, fucks into Bruce's mouth rudely. Another moan is pulled from deep in his chest, his grip cruelly tightening in the man's hair. A thought about how he should feel guilty about all of this whispers through his mind but is gone nearly instantly. ]

Mmm, I can see why you cost so much now.

[ He's smirking as he talks. Their audience fades further into the background, a dangerous thing to let his mind do. But too much of his focus is taken up by Bruce's mouth. Is it really Tim's fault? ]

[ Tim's moan reverberates through him, echoes in his skull and in his chest. It's that genuine sound he makes that helps to narrow Bruce's focus to a singular focal point: he wanted to hear Tim again. And he'd work to make sure that he did. He's quick to adapt for how quickly Tim's pushed himself into Bruce's mouth and he takes him down to the base without it being too difficult. It takes a minute to work out how to breathe around the cock in his mouth, but by the time Tim pulls out to thrust back in, he's ready for it.

And there it is. That delicious sound Tim makes dragged up from the depths of him. Bruce thinks he could listen to him make that noise all damn day. Despite the grip Tim has on his hair, Bruce stays focused on the task at hand. Breathes when he has the chance to and suckling at the head of Tim's cock when he pulls it back again.

He cannot speak when there's a dick in his mouth of course, but there is a hint of a wry smile at Tim's praise, eyes cutting upward to watch his face because he wanted to remember so when he's free again, and there's a chance to reverse their roles? Tim would have a lot to answer for. ]

[ Blissfully unaware of any plotted revenge against him, Tim simply assumes that the twitching of Bruce's mouth into some sort of smile around his erection is merely the man being pleased with their performance. He knows what's expected of him, that he's supposed to be the best and give every mission everything he has, and he takes that more seriously than most.

But that's not what has Tim eagerly fucking into Bruce's mouth, selfishly taking every ounce of pleasure he can get. It's so good he barely keeps control over himself. The desire to make it last, to draw it out, makes his hips slow when he feels like he's too close to the edge. The moment he's sure he's not going to finish off too fast, he's right back to the brutal pace only the most fine tuned muscles were capable of. It's not necessary, there's no need to draw it out, but Tim still does. There isn't a lick of concern about Bruce's comfort or his pleasure. Slaves don't get have feelings worth worrying about, after all.

The hand that's still holding his mentor's leash gives a rough tug and Tim looks like he's on top of the world. His perfect hair sticks to his sweaty neck, lips red from being bitten to keep quiet twisting into a sadistic little smirk, those pretty blue eyes memorizing the look on Bruce's face as he's made to be humiliated in front of a crowd. Despite his very best efforts, he's not going to be able to last that much longer. ]

[ Thing was, Bruce is pleased. Very pleased in fact to have this opportunity to watch Tim unravel, watch all of his careful, harsh training fall away under the weight of his pleasure. Bruce wouldn't have an answer if he was ever asked why he enjoyed it. At least not one he'd be willing to share. He did wish his hands were free so he had greater control over Tim's speed, so he could better manage the ache setting up in his jaw and how often he'd be able to take a breath. But he didn't have the luxury. He's a slave after all. His comfort didn't matter and it never would so long as they were here.

So Bruce did what he did best: he ignored it and continued to work his tongue against Tim's shaft, licking as much as his brutal thrusting would allow.

The yank on the leash drags Bruce forward and he's not prepared for how far into his mouth Tim's cock goes. It gags him for all of the seconds Tim is at the back of his throat. His eyes water and when he's given even a moment of reprieve he coughs, tries to catch his breath. It's the first time he's actually felt humiliated here. He never liked being caught off guard. Tim would have to answer for that too. ]

[ By now Tim's too far gone to feel too bad about the way he chokes Bruce on his cock. All he can think about is how soft the back of the man's throat is, how close he is to the edge. So yes, he gives Bruce a moment to cough, but then he's right back at it. Pushing the limits again, chasing the high of having his mentor suck him off.

He's a vision when he comes, the beauty of the young man he's become shining through. His hand holds tight at Bruce's head to prevent him from pulling back all the way, back arching dramatically. Those gorgeous, wet lashes flutter, teeth sinking hard enough into his bottom lip that it's likely to be sore later. He needs to keep himself from saying anything that might give away that he knows Bruce, knew him before all of this. It's for their own safety. And anyway, he doesn't feel the pain, because he's too busy on cloud nine. Every nerve in his body lights with pleasure as he unloads, hips bucking eager and almost mean.

It's only when he's sure that he's fully done that he's willing to let Bruce's head go so he can get some air. Still, he needs to stand there for a moment and collect himself. All of his senses have gone offline and his brain needs to rearrange some things before he's going to be capable of any thought at all. It takes an awful lot to stupefy someone with Tim Drake's brain power, but it worked. At least temporarily. ]

[ The crowd murmurs, enthralled at the sight of Gotham's Favorite Son choking on the cock of this man half his size. Bruce must've been a sight, kneeling in front of Tim with red, watery eyes and tear stained cheeks and arms bound tight enough behind him to cut through his skin. The choking helps to shake away more of the fog of the drugs. It helps to make him more aware of his surroundings, how perilous things are getting. How close Tim is getting.

Bruce isn't left to wonder what will happen when Tim comes. As Tim empties into his mouth and down his throat, Bruce swallows as much of it as he can before his lungs begin to burn. He can put it away. He can hold that pain in if only so he can watch how beautiful Tim is as he unravels. He never wanted to look away, just so he could remember the way he looks right then always.

Bruce couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

When Tim is done, when he's finally let go of Bruce's head, he eases back and sits on his heels while he evens out his breathing, forces himself back into something close to his baseline. His jaw aches and his throat is sore and he's still so painfully hard. But none of that matters. He licks his lips, the taste of Tim still lingers and when he's found his voice he speaks up. ]

Was it good, sir?

[ His voice is raw, low and raspy. There's nothing subservient about the look in his eye as he stares up at Tim. ]

[ The younger man blinks once, twice, and then that icy veneer slips back over his face. Despite his flushed cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his lips have turned red from being bitten, one might think Bruce hadn't just sucked Tim's brains out through his dick. The quickness with which he recovers is pure skill on display, a performance for the ages.

He looks utterly unimpressed as he gazes down at Bruce, choosing wisely to ignore that he can see how hard he is in what he'd been given to wear. It's natural to get aroused by performing a sex act, Bruce doesn't have any actual desire for him, no matter what sort of heat he might see in those eyes. This is a performance. Or it's just the drugs, or something. People are actually clapping and they don't even know the half of it. ]

I suppose that will have to be good enough, clearly you'll need more training.

[ Tim is quick to tuck his cock back into his pants and do them back up. He can play it off as being shy if need be, but he is not at all into the idea of all of these weird rich perverts getting an eyeful. The things he put up with to ensure a mission's success. Sigh. ]

Now, let's go. I'm not interested in playing any games with you, so think twice before you test my patience.

[ There's another harsh little yank at the leash, more insistent this time. He has no interest in lingering around this place any longer, he needs to get them both the hell out of there so he can see if Bruce needs anything to counteract the drugs in his system. ]

[ If Bruce didn't know Tim, if he hadn't trained him to put the mission's success over everything, he might believed Tim had really been unsatisfied. He might have believed that the performance - the way Tim's gaze turns cold, the unsympathetic body language - was a genuine display. But Bruce did know his boy and had enough of himself back to realize how he might be able to weaponize that knowledge later, when they were out of here.

He only allows himself a moment or two more to collect himself before he's getting to his feet, staggering only a little as he regains his balance. Or maybe it's part of the performance. Like the erection Tim seems convinced isn't because of him. If he knew what Tim was thinking, Bruce might have leaned down and told him to untie him so Bruce could show him exactly what he'd done to him. Just loud enough for Tim to hear. But (unfortunately for Bruce), he's not a mind reader and could only draw conclusions from what he'd observed.

The yank on the leash he's come to expect so he does not stumble when Tim does it. He's properly obedient this time, follows without a word. No more games, no more testing the limits of Tim's patience. He's as ready to get out of here as Tim is.

But when they were safe? He'd have something to say. ]

[ It's a relief that Bruce's stubborn streak seems to be over for now. Lewd acts are supposed to be reserved for whoever he's with, not a group of disgusting pervs eyeing his junk that he's never so much as talked to before.

The Redbird was, wisely, left at the Nest, since he isn't out as Red Robin tonight. Instead, the car waiting for the two of them outside is Tim Drake's very expensive jet black Jaguar with tinted windows. There's no driver waiting, because he's not Bruce Wayne. Kids his age prefer to drive themselves around, to show off their flashy vehicles. ]

Get in.

[ Bruce is shoved rather unceremoniously in the back, and the door clicks shut behind him. There are bound to be cameras everywhere, so Tim's not just going to lean over and cut him loose like this. He's also not going to risk Bruce trying to break free and escape from the car. Knowing where the man's mind is at is challenging when he's completely sober, and Tim isn't sure how much influence the drugs are having. It won't kill him to be tied up a little longer.

Tim stays quiet. What are you supposed to say to someone that has been your mentor for half a decade who then choked on your cock for the sake of a mission? He keeps his eyes on the road and focuses on getting Bruce back to the cave. ]

[ It feels like stepping into another world when they're finally outside. The heat inside was becoming oppressive, suffocating, unbearable and Bruce appreciates the stiff breeze they walk out into. Even if it makes him feel a little bit clammy, considering the sweat that's slicked his hair to his forehead. He ducks his head when Tim pushes him into the backseat, though it only takes a few turns before he's upright and the car is moving.

He rides in silence for only a brief moment - until the building is out of sight - before he's leaning forward, into the space between the driver's seat and the passenger's. Tim is quiet and that's fine. Bruce didn't need him to talk. He just needs him to listen as he rattles off what he's been injected with like a grocery list.

He doesn't feel the sedatives much anymore, despite the high dosage they must have given him. That's not what concerns him. He sits back to rest, but his eyes are still on Tim. ]

You did well.

[ Tension pulls up his spine the moment Bruce leans forward, but he obediently takes mental notes on what he's told. His memory is flawless, so no concerns there. It is a little shocking to hear just how much they must have hit Bruce with. Sure, the man has trained his body to resist certain things, but it's still concerning.

It did help him, when it came to making Bruce behave.

Up until--The scene is just starting to play out in his mind again when Bruce compliments him. It's a rarity for sure, and Tim has spent years trying to please him. Color dusts his cheeks and he has to clear his throat before he speaks. Repeats the same thing he's been told hundreds of times. ]

The mission always comes first.

[ So he's not going to apologize. And if the whole thing created all new fantasies for him to think about later, that's his own business.

It is, fortunately, not that long of a drive to the cave. Tim pulls in and parks his fancy car, then immediately heads to the back so he can untie his mentor. ]

[ He doesn't expect anything less from Tim. Bruce had trained him to be as efficient and precise as he was. He would not argue with the end results, even if the execution needed fine tuning. Apologies weren't necessary, especially now that they were a step closer to dismantling Sionis' operation. It was part of the job and Bruce new the risks going in. He didn't want Tim to apologize for doing the right thing.

He's glad when the car stops and the door opens and his bindings are finally loosened. His shoulders are stiff and his elbows crack as he eases his arms back into a more natural position.

The collar and leash come off a moment later and Bruce rubs where it's chafed a little. ]

File your report and then come find me. There's something I want to ask you.

[ It sounds somewhat ominous, but a lot of what Bruce says to him does. He figures it's about following the next lead, so Tim doesn't spare any time worrying. He's loyal to a fault and takes cases every bit as seriously as the man who trained him, and it shows in the way he heads straight to the computer and gets to work. Like nothing at all had happened between them. His fingers fly without pause until he's at the point of describing Bruce disobeying and what he'd had to do as a cover.

Tim's not worried about embarrassing his mentor, but there's also no need to be extremely explicit. He types up something about punishing misbehavior by having Bruce perform a sexual act with his mouth to prevent them from being discovered and leaves it at that.

Once he's finished, the young man heads for the stairs back up from the cave and into the manor. Thinks it's likely Bruce wanted to shower off or put on some real clothes, and heads for his giant room to look for him. ]

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a misbehaving Bruce you say

Welp

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