Morning, Handsome: oneshot

The snow slept over the Wayne estate, one white, perfect blanket of cold. It contrasted the bright exterior of the house; the tall building standing out against the ashen ground and sky. It was a perfect way to start Christmas Eve. Inches upon inches blocked the roads in Gotham and out in Bristol. The cars and all the people living in the Manor snowed in, for better or for worse.

None of them really mind. The house is still busy regardless; there’s laughter in the kitchen, the bang of pots hitting the stove, pans sliding in the oven and the clink of the breakfast coming up the stairs.

Tim, young and lovely as always, balances the sliver tray in one hand, opening the door to Bruce’s bedroom quickly, before shutting it behind him. He places the breakfast tray down on the nightstand, sliding the bedside lamp back a bit before crawling into bed on top of the man and letting out a small, happy sound.

“Bruce…,” the teen smiles wide as the house master’s blue eyes open, hands immediately clasping onto the bird’s hips. “Morning, handsome.” He bends down to lay a kiss against Bruce’s lips, his calloused hands finding purchase along the scarred, wide chest as the man deepens the exchange.

Moaning, Tim accepts, running his tongue up against the older man’s, taking his time to reacquaint himself with his mentor’s mouth, regardless that they were in the same position last night. He slowly grinds his hips into the awakening groin below him. There’s a growl low in the man’s throat, it makes the teen grin and pull away just to watch the twitch at the edges of Bruce’s eyes and lips.

“I brought your breakfast,” he says like a second thought, like he hadn’t just been giving the man a hard-on with a few sweeps of his body. It makes Bruce smile, small, for his companion before he’s turning to grab a piece of bread off the plate. The man takes one big bite and looks directly at Tim as he rips a small piece off the other side of the toast and pops it into his mouth.

“So…you gonna tell me what I get for Christmas?”

“No. You have to wait till tomorrow morning just like everyone else.”

The teen pouts, absentmindedly running his hands through Bruce’s chest hair and giving a little pull here and there. “But, I brought you breakfast.” The man’s expression doesn’t change, he just finishes off his first piece of bread and grabs another.

Tim really doesn’t seem to care; he’s scooting back onto Bruce’s thighs, taking the sheets and comforter with him, revealing the man’s half flaccid penis. The bird grins wide and watches Bruce take a bite of the buttered toast as he wraps his hand around the growing shaft.

“So,” the teen says, preoccupied but still perfectly willing to carry on the conversation, “Can we open presents tonight?” He twists his fist once and removes his hand, licks the entirety of his palm and fingers before going back to pleasuring the house master.

He pumps slowly, wants to get a rise out of his mentor though it doesn’t seem to work at all, except to grow his penis to full length. “No,” and Bruce eats another bit of bread, watching Tim perform.

The teen doesn’t stop, regardless of the answer; Bruce’s erection is hot and hard in his hand and he gives a little twist as he reaches the bottom of the flared head. “Please?” He pouts and strokes faster, using his other hand to unzip his slacks and pull out his own erection. Tim unwraps his hand and pushes forward, sliding the slick tip of his penis against Bruce‘s, winning a low growl.

“No, Robin.” Another bite, chew and swallow. Bruce is still watching the teen, even as Tim takes both of them in hand and strokes hard and perfect, the way Bruce loves it. A moan is the next thing to come out of Tim’s mouth and the man is leaking pre-come over his hand, slicking them more.

“So…it’s a new--*ah*-- Redbird?” Tim can feel his ass and balls tighten and Bruce’s dick twitch in his hand. “Bruce!” He looks at the man, no breakfast in hand, instead he’s fully focused on Tim. It’s enough to send the bird over board. He orgasms with one loud moan, thrusting up against Bruce’s erection. Wonderful, wonderful contact and feeling for Christmas Eve morning. In some part of his mind, he hears the familiar groan of Bruce’s finish, and his hand smooth and wet.

“Well?” And Tim can finally see the perfect outline of Bruce’s face as he starts to clean his hand. Tim sucks his come-coated fingers in one at a time, releasing each with a dirty pop, and sees the man smile slightly.

“I guess you’ll see.”

Bruce lets off one long breath and holds Tim close as he slides up to rest against the headboard. It’s easy to lay Tim next to him, to stroke his hair, his long bangs to the back of his neck. The bird coos softly, snuggling closer to the man, lying his head against the solid chest.

“Mmm, so do you have anything special planned tonight?”

“Patrol.”

“Ha, you know what I mean.”

“Hmm, I might.”

“Alright so…anything I should know?”

“You’ll just have to see.”

“But, I gave you a morning handjob!” Bruce just smiles, laughs once, and grabs another piece of bread. Tim gives off a little pout again and steals the piece of bread right out of Bruce’s hand. He smears the buttered slice right down onto Bruce’s come coated stomach, collecting as much semen as he can before depositing the bread right back into the man’s hand

Tim quickly jumps from the huge mattress to the ground, shaking the bed, landing perfectly and giving a little quiver of his bottom before tucking himself away, zipping his pants and leaving the room. Bruce just stares at his ruined bread and laughs.

~&

“No way!”

“Yup, totally happened.”

“Aww, man. All I get is these hookers hitting on me.”

“Maybe if your costume wasn’t so fucking *tight*.”

“But, Bruce likes it.”

“Dick, he only likes it because--”

There’s a sudden *ahem* stopping the two older birds’ conversation in it’s tracks. Dick just smiles at Alfred and finishes kneading the dough he had been given earlier. Jason laughs and pulls Dick into a wet kiss, dough and all.

“Sirs, may I remind you what happened last time you had *sexual exploits* in the kitchen?”

Jason remembers all that flour in his hair and Bruce’s grimace when he walked in on the two of them making creative use of a few things in the kitchen. The younger man pulls away and goes back to the stove to look over his cooking.

Time passes with the three talking about the past, holidays, villains, Bruce, and so much more before Tim walks in the room, glint in his eyes. The teen slides a hand across Jason’s waist as he passes, finding the back pockets of Dick’s jeans next.

“Mmm, this smells so delicious, guys.”

“Yeah? Glad you approve, Timbo.” Alfred pops by, taking the dough from the acrobat and placing a bowl of potatoes on the counter in front of him, two peelers included.

“We have much more work to do before Christmas dinner is ready, I’m afraid.”

Tim’s sitting on the counter next to Dick, grabbing a peeler and potato before the butler has to say another word. There’s a small chuckle coming from the oldest bird’s throat; he watches the movement of Tim’s hand and starts the same routine.

“Please tell me that Bruce has to help with this, too?” Jason places a lid over one of the pots he’s watching over, a clink of metal as he places another on the back burner.

“You know how Master Bruce feels about the kitchen.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Hmm, are you saying I can’t cook, Alfred?” Bruce is walking into the room, robe wrapped around his solid body. He scrubs a hand through his messy hair and grabs a mug of coffee when Alfred hands it to him.

“Bruce, just leave the cooking to us, baby.” Jason grins, steals a kiss when the man steps close to him. He can feel an arm wrap around his waist and pull him close, away from the stove.

“You’re right. I have work to do.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Mmhm,” Bruce takes a sip of his coffee and makes his way towards Dick and Tim. “*Tim*,” He lays a kiss against the teen’s cheek, “Come down when you’re done with your peeling and I’ll return the favor.” He winks before laying a smack against Dick’s ass and leaving the kitchen.

“Returning the favor, eh?” Jason laughs while he stirs the spoon in one of the pots.

“Yeah, I gave him a handjob…and a bit more.”

“Why didn’t I get a morning handjob? And what was this ‘bit more’?”

“It was something, and you didn’t get a morning handjob because you’re not Batman.”

Dick laughs and lays a completely peeled potato on the counter. “It’s alright, Jason, I don’t get any morning handjobs either. How about we have our own fun tomorrow morning?”

“Alright, Dick, but I’m holding you to it.”

“Deal.”

“Ugh, you guys are going to drive Alfred crazy.”

“Master Tim, I have learned to tune it out at a certain point.” The teen chuckles loud as he continues peeling, watching Dick pout a bit. Today will certainly be eventful, regardless of the weather.