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The next best thing
Cold night. Stars were scattered overhead, covered by a thin layer of whisky clouds. The handfuls of skyscrapers pierced upwards in the distance. The cacophony of car horns and police sirens and yells filled the air of Gotham City, even after the sun had set.
It wasn’t even that late. Eleven pm on Tim’s night off. He had an excuse to just hang out with his friends for a while, or get some schoolwork done, or something.
But instead he was sprinting across the rooftops, vaulting over the vents up there and jumping between the buildings. A duffle bag hung off his side, rhythmically bouncing. Not his usual style, but it was full of valuable cargo.
Tim ran to the edge of the rooftop.Despite the cold he was sweating from excitement, or maybe nerves. The new suit was nice, leaving the skin of his bicep and underarm exposed, which was pretty handy for cooling off.
The plaza was down below him. A circular venue dotted with a bit of grass and trees, practically empty already. There were a couple homeless people asleep on the street. Still better to go around the side alley.
Tim lowered himself down on his grappling hook. This must have only been the fourth time now. Still filled him with nerves. That he’d be caught out. That someone would know and that they would expose him for this.
And now he was bringing things up a notch. What he had in the bag wasn’t exactly savoury. This wouldn’t make him popular with people if they found out. But he was just too amped up to resist.
Fourth flour. He tensed his legs against the windowsill. The fabric of his uniform was already bulging against his crotch. Usually he was better at controlling his cock. In those tight suits, any boner would be clear as day.
He knocked five times in a specific order. Not that it was really needed. No one else would be coming in this way.
It took a couple seconds. Tim’s thighs were starting to shake, but that was mainly with excitement, before the window slid open.
“Come inside, birdie, before that cape of yours gives you away,” the voice growled, and Tim swung in.
The room was dark. A small apartment space, the shapes of a beaten up sofa, dining area and kitchen were visible in the shadows. For now, Tim was happy that the room would stay dark.
“What is it now?” A figure drew itself up in front of Tim. Towering, tall over him, made of irregular shapes moulded together into a vaguely human form. They shifted slightly when he focused his eyes.
Tim felt really small in front of him. Objectively he was.
Weird that less than a year ago this guy was trying to kill him. And almost succeeding in that regard. Time’s changed.
“I got something,” The bag was slung off Tim’s shoulder. He made some space on the coffee table, which was covered in leftover cans and takeout wrappers.
A misshapen hand came out of the shadows and unzipped the bag. It started going through the collection Tim had organised.
“You should have called ahead, I coulda been busy,”
“Were you?” It wasn’t like Tim could have waited.
Earlier that day, he was in the Young Justice base. Understandable place for him to be. And he just happened to have left his phone in the locker room.
When he went to collect it, Bart was there. Fully naked. Tim was still wearing his mask, with inbuilt cameras.
Bart didn’t seem to notice, he just said hi and acted like it was normal. Tim had to duck outside.
It was difficult being closeted around multiple hot guys.
The printed out photos were in the bag. A bit blurry, but they’d have to do it. Bart’s full body, perfect in every way.
“Wow,” the figure spoke again, his voice was low and coarse. Tim hated how it sounded, “I didn’t know my little birdie was such a perv,”
“I’m not yours,” Tim snapped back.
“Sure, sure,”
He continued going through Tim’s little treasure trove. After he had seen Impulse nude, in a frenzy of teenage hormones, Tim had raided the laundry basket. Again, not his best moment. But he had a collection of clothes to show for it. He couldn’t help but feel sick with excitement.
“So, you want me to…”
“Yes,” Tim hated talking about it. Made him realise how fucked up this all was. If they were just doing it, he could pretend it was normal and there was nothing weird happening.
The figure laughed, and a hand reached out of the shadows. It roughly caressed Tim’s cheek, “Maybe someday you should take a long look at yourself in the mirror, Robin,”
Tim scoffed and pulled away. The hand on him grossed him out. Wet and cold. Big enough to crush his head if it really wanted to.
Tendrils reached into the bag and snatched away the various clothes, encompassing them in the shifting, moulding shape as it shrank.
“Personally, I think it’s cute,” the voice got higher pitched as the shape changed. Younger, more energetic, “You’re Just so needy for attention,”
And then out of the shadows stepped Bart. Impulse.
Dressed in casual gear. A pair of faded and torn shorts, rusty orange shirt and that adorable blue hoodie with stars stitched across it.
“How do I look?” He did a little spin. His hair flopped around as he moved, his eyes happily smiling around. He sniffed his own armpit and gagged, “This kid’s clothes smell bad,”
Then he flicked his eyes up to Tim, “Is that what you’re into?”
“You’ve gotten better at the voice, and the tone,” Tim avoided the question.
Yeah Impulse didn’t exactly smell like sunshine and daisies. He spent all his time sprinting around. That makes you work up a sweat. Furthermore he did come from the literal apocalypse, free from the constraints of easy access to showers or deodorant. It was a bit of a leaning curve teaching him. Still wasn’t nearly as bad as Gar could be.
Plus Robin was kinda into it.
“Yeah,” He punched Robin playfully on the shoulder, “I did some character practice. I didn’t win my acting trophies by mistake, although Teenage boy is a bit out of my typecast,”
He walked around and turned on the light switch, revealing the room in all its mess. It was as if it was designed to be gross. Empty pizza boxes, mould growing on the carpet. A cracked tv hung off the wall at a concerning angle.
“I was doing some method acting here and my neighbour knocked on the door,” he smirked, “They probably thought I was a hooker,”
Tim was definitely disgusted by everything going on in the room. It was like he never cleaned up ever.
“But Y’know with those pics, I can really take things to a new level,” for a second his eye flashed with an intensity that Impulse never really hard.
He looked adorable. Perfect. Handsome and cute and charming. He smiled wildly, adorable braces flashing.
“You like this?” The imitation Impulse stretched out his skinny limbs, teetering to the balls of his feet. He wasn’t even Tim’s height then, “How do I look?”
“Good,” Tim’s voice was shaky.
Here he was. Being seduced. Maybe that was the wrong word. He was fully here for it. Just to try and ease his burning hormones. It was a mutually beneficial relationship between him and… him and Clayface.
He didn’t tell anyone Clayface had escaped, and in return, the shapeshifter helped him relieve himself. From time to time. It wasn't like Clayface was committing any crimes anyway. He was just living his life, and he and Tim had a thing going.
The mimic pushed Tim backwards onto the sofa suddenly. Jumping up and straddling on his lap, so their faces were so close. His breath was warm.
The weight pressing down on him reminded Tim that this was fake. Bart wasn't nearly that heavy. But he didn’t care anymore.
Impulse played with Tim’s hair as he whispered, “I forgot how easily you get turned on, I’m still fully clothed and everything,”
Tim hardly wanted to breathe. But as his lungs inflated, he could smell Bart in front of him. That messy, youthful mix of his best friend and longtime crush. It drove him wild. Made it seem real. His cock was straining in his suit.
Tim felt his hands roving. Dipped below impulse’s soft hoodie and up the sides of his shirt. He could feel the taught muscularity beneath the clothing.
“Does that libido come from being young, or are you just a massive perv?”
Tim ignored the remarks. Or maybe they turned him on more. Bart was playful, but never really mean. Even so, it was a bit hot to hear.
The way his hazel eyes sparkled mischievously was so perfectly accurate. The slight shivers and flexes of his muscles as Tim explored Impulse’s body was exactly what Tim had dreamed of.
“You’re so slow sometimes though, do you not want to get to the fun bit?”
“I’m savouring it,” Tim breathed. He could tell his face was red.
“Yeah, sure,” Impulse pulled off the jacket. His skinny arms were fully on display, “You like scents, weirdo?”
Tim bit his lip and nodded slightly.
“Good,” Impulse smirked. He pulled the sleeves of his baggy shirt up his arms, until the pale skin of his freckled shoulder and smattering of copper armpit hair was visible.
Tim could tell Clayface was guessing about the hair. Probably a bit more than Bart had in reality. He’d chalk it up to artistic interpretation.
The smattering of curled reddish brown hair was laid out in front of him, so Tim leant inwards.
The scent of Impulse got stronger as he pushed his mouth up against the warm skin. Salty.
“Good boy,” Bart crooned, “If you gave me more warning beforehand I could have actually built up a sweat,”
Tim saved a thought for later wondering if Clayface could actually sweat. He was just clay right?
He ran his tongue up and down the hair. It was warm and salty and strong. Encompassing. Musky and young and absolutely someone who never used deodorant.
He pulled back and panted. Fuck. He knew it was wrong but he hadn’t been this turned on ever.
Bart leant back on Tim. The way the clothes fell around his body was so intoxicating. His shirt looked so big on him and Tim could imagine the ridges and curves underneath.
“Better pace yourself,” Bart’s voice was melodic, “I bet you’re already spilling precum into that nice expensive suit of yours,”
He wasn’t wrong. Every shift of the smaller boy's weight altered the pressure burning through Tim’s body.
Tim stared up at him for a second, waiting in awe. Because the most beautiful boy in the world was in front of him.
And then Bart kissed him.
Something Tim had imagined more than enough times. Had jerked himself off in bed.
As he felt Impulse’s lips meet his gently, his tongue slipping inwards. The texture of the other boys braces.
Gentle for a second and then got aggressive. Bart grabbed the back of Tim’s head and pulled him further in, violently making out.
Tim had to push him off after a second.
“Wow,” Bart wiped his mouth from the drool accumulating, “You really are new to this,”
Impulse stood up and stretched. The weight off of him was a sudden relief.
Tim was panting for breath but couldn’t help but see the slim, tanned body as the shirt pulled up. He couldn’t help but feel like the worst pervert watching it.
Bart leant down and kicked off his sneakers, “I could probably make you cum fully clothed if I really tried,”
Tim was hypnotised watching his legs move. The skinny muscles, with just the slightest dusting of hair.
Impulse lifted up the ratty, red Vans. They looked like they had been through a couple small nuclear conflicts. Tim was constantly telling him to throw them out, if only so he could pick them out of the trash.
Bart put one shoe to his nose. He took a long, deep inhale, before physical recoiling. He stuck out his tongue in disgust. The childlike gesture made Tim even more turned on. Bart always liked to act half a decade younger than he really was.
“You sure you want this?” The boy gagged. He let the shoe dangle from the laces, “a Perv like you wouldn’t say no, right?”
Tim nodded slowly. Clayface was doing this perfectly. Capturing the youthful behaviour of his best friend, adding a mean streak. Being treated so fucking lewdly by the smaller boy. It felt so good.
Impulse laughed. He sounded both amused and disgusted, “You’re so fucking simple,”
He took a couple slow steps over, before leaning in and pushing the opening of the shoe forcefully into Tim’s face. Still warm.
“Deep breaths, freak,” Bart said.
Tim obliged. The soft fabric wrapped around his nose and he inhaled deeply.
The scent flooded his lungs. Trainers that had been left unwashed for probably over a year now. Sharp and musky, forcing Tim to almost gag.
He wanted more. He needed more. It wasn’t deep enough.
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
Tim’s neck was pushed back as Bart forced his entire, unnatural weight to hold him there. Like being clamped down. Tim probably could even move if he wanted too.
Bart was there with him. Using him.
He felt his cape unclip, and then cool air on his stomach as the clasps on his suit came undone.
“You’re so pretty drowning in another boys stink ,”
If he could drown himself in it, he would. The scent bit at his lungs, making his head spin.
Tim held his eyes closed. Bart’s voice was distant but still echoing through him. As if he needed any more encouragement to hungrily drink in the smell.
A hand danced across his cock. Tim’s breath hitched. He hadn’t even realised it was out.
“You’re so pent up, Robin,”
Tim opened his eyes to gaze down at the other boy. His vision was splotched with black, the world was fuzzy. His body needed fresh air and his brain refused to let it happen.
Bart’s delicate fingers swirled around the tip, eliciting moans from time.
“Open up, real wide,” Bart said.
The shoe moved off his face. The air was cold on his skin. Tim didn’t realise he whined in its absence.
Bart was in front of him, smirking in the half light. Two fingers were held towards Tim’s face. A thin line of precum hung between the tips.
Tim obliged, and Bart’s soft fingers moved into his mouth. The taste was salty, and sour. Ultimately a bit disgusting. It was objectively repulsive, but Tim fucking loved it. He fucking loved how Bart dragged his fingers across his gums.
“You’re so obedient," Bart sang.
“For you,” Tim said breathlessly when the fingers were removed. Drool ran down his chin.
“Who knew the boy wonder was such a pathetic slut?”
Bart’s hand was on his cock again. The other boy leant down
“I am,”
“Louder,”
“I’m a slut for you,”
“Good boy,” The teasing voice was so happy in its mild disgust of him. In the knowledge that Tim really was a filthy perv. That he didn’t deserve such a good friend as Bart.
He came.
“Look at you fucking go,”
Bart laughed as the fluid sprayed across his hands.
Tim took a breath in. The room stank. Oh he didn’t want to cum so early. But he couldn't hold it in.
Clayface was still smirking at him and Tim felt dirty. His uniform was a mess, and he’d have to replace Bart’s clothes.
Jesus Christ he was a bad friend. A bad person really.
“Feeling good?” Clayface asked with another laugh.
Tim stood up, “Pass me a towel?”
“Gonna leave already?”
“Yes.”
Tim was trying not to look at the shapeshifter in front of him. That he’d made mimic his unknowing best friend.