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Robin+Impulse t/t, j/o, comic book
To whom it probably doesn't concern, the following is a story of consensual sex between teenaged males, if you are under 18 or offended by this type of material, please don't read, stop her, to continue is a violation of state and federal law. Good, now, since we ALL know no one under 18 could POSSIBLY had ignored such a stern warning, let me just say that I IF, by some COSMIC COINCIDENCE, someone under 18 is current reading this, go ahead, with my blessing.
If you're gay, or bisexual, or even THINK you may be, I can onyl give you this advice; don't shut that part of you away. I did for a long time, and I din't come to terms with my bisexuality until I was seventeen, and I regret those years I lost. Shame is not something you can feel, it can only be pushed on you by others, if you refuse to accept it's power, than it has no power over you. These very laws that I have to sandwich this statment between- they are an abuse, a shameing tool. Their origional intent was not to keep you from exploring who you are in the pursuit of a happier and more emotionally stable individual (part of the bill of rights BTW), they were intended to protect kids from exploitation, a purpose I fully agree with, even if I think it's application has strayed. Lst I have to say, if you're not sure, who or what you are, that's ok. Don't feel the need to put a label on yourself, to do so limits you and burdeons you immeasurably. Find Peace, that's- that's the last requirment I place on reading this. Just promise- try, find peace with yourself, with others, with the world. Thank you. The characters portrayed herein are copyrighted by DC Comics, the author uses them without permission. Blah Blah Blah, yadda yadda yadda, you've heard it all before.
Background and Dramatis Personae
TIM DRAKE is the third person to hold the Robin mantle. He is 14, has black hair, buff but slight, and very hot. If you don't know who Robin is in relation to Batman... where exactly have you been hiding for the last 50 years?
BART ALLEN's a.k.a. IMPULSE's story is a bit more complicated. He is the grandson of Barry Allen (the 2nd flash who had the TV series back in '90) born in the 30th century. Because of his family tree, Bart was born with both super speed and an accelerated metabolism that caused him to age at 7 times the normal rate (i.e. at 2 he looked like he was 14) At a young age Bart was hooked up to a Virtual Reality simulator to keep him stimulated (basically he grew up in a giant video game) When the system went down, his relatives had no choice but to send him back to the 20th century where Wally West (Flash #3) corrected his metabolism. To cut a long story short, he now lives in Alabama with his "uncle" Max Crandall, actually a retired super-speedster who's training Bart. Bart is also 14, looks younger, big brown hair, bigger feet. (I'm serious, this is a distinguishing characteristic!) Bart is, true to his moniker, very impulsive, it comes from his upbringing. Think the kid from 3rd Rock on speed, culture shock. VERY hot. (If you want to know what this guy looks like, I recommend picking up an issure before #25 for this one, the current artist is excellent, but Humburto Ramos, the defining artist for this character has to be seen to be believed)
The story so far:
The comic Robin+ was a 1 shot team up with Impulse published in December 96. The plot begins with both Tim and Bart staying at the Lonesome Pines Lodge, a ski resort out east. Robin and Impulse shut down a band of terrorists called White Heat with the help of a woman metahuman called Mystral. Robin has figured out Bart's secret identity (The big hair/big feet thing I was talking about) while Bart still doesn't know who Tim is. (It's gonna be kinda hard to avoid Bart finding out, they're the only two lost in the blizzard, you think he's not gonna hear the other student's name when they're rescued?) Anyway, there's a blizzard, they're a long way from the lodge, and Bart's super-speed ain't worth jack in snow. it's already been set up that there are a number of line cabins set up for lost hikers in the mountains and our story begins about thirty seconds before the comic ends...
And finally, ( I preach before ALL my stories, don't worry) this story is Karma ware. If you read it, like it, use it, whatever- perform a random act of kindness for me. I haven't spoken to God in 3 years for my own reasons, and I'm not going to break that particular cycle now. Maybe by spreading good karma I can save the world, and myself.
-Mazer114
Robin + Impulse
Part 1 (of 1)
Robin stepped out into the cold night, Impulse in step behind him, "She
may be gone, but I have a feeling our paths will cross again someday."
Bart made a rude noise, "You wish."
"Knock it off."
Together they headed off south, more or less the direction they'd come from, the snow began to fall heavily. Bart griped, "More snow, great. If I can't run this is going to be a l-o-o-o-ong walk back"
"Deal with it-- We're on our own. We can't go to the military without raising more questions than I want to answer. And I'm not sure I can explain Mystral."
Bart smiled and began to sing in a warbling off-key voice, "Again with the girl. Robin and Mystral sitting in a tree..."
Robin made a face.
"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Whatever you say Bart."
"Hrumph, cold makes Robin grumpy."
Robin rolled back his eyes under his mask, "I'm not cold." It was true, his suit had battery powered thermal filaments built in.
"You're not?" Bart stopped, forcing Robin to stop too. Bart grabbed Robin's glove, "Hey, you're right! You're all toasty!" Bart grabbed Robin and pulled him close, absorbing his heat.
For a moment Robin was dumbstruck, all he could see was Bart's head resting on his chest with icicles forming in his hair. "Hey! Get off of me!" Robin pried Bart loose who plopped backwards into the snow.
Bart looked hurt, "What was that for? You're all warm and I'm all cold."
Robin massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"I know Bart, but my suit's heaters have less than 20 minutes of power left and we can't just sit here warming you up."
Bart popped back up so suddenly that Robin nearly fell backwards in response. "Cool, so what do we do?"
Robin didn't know weather to laugh or cry. For all the shit he'd heard
about teenagers believing they were immortal, he'd never believed a word of it 'til he met Bart Allen. No concept that they might die, just 'what's next?' "I suppose we could head for one of cabins they keep in the mountains for stranded hikers, I noticed in Mystral's room a map showing one about half a kilometer from here."
"Can we make that in 20 minutes?"
Robin looked up, the driving snow obscured the sky, there was just white everywhere, eliminating any concept of up or down. "Not in this weather. But it'll be close enough."
They found the cabin thirty-five minutes later.
Robin forced to door to the cabin easily. It was dark inside, fumbling, he reached for the flashlight in his belt.
The one-room cabin sprung into sharp relief, a couch, a wood stove, table and chairs, and a blessed fireplace. As Robin busied himself about starting a fire, Bart explored. He uncovered about a months worth of canned food, blankets, plus oil for the lamps. He peered into the bowl of the oil lamp uncomprehendingly. "I don't get it." Robin sighed and lit the lamp, then he used a small amount of the oil to get the fire going. Before long, they we're both sitting in front of a crackling fire, greedily sucking up it's warmth. Robin put down his cell phone in disgust. It had picked up a bullet in the fracas back at the White Heat camp, probably saving his life, and was in pieces. He might be able to repair it, but it would take days.
"Hey Robin?"
"Yeah Bart?"
"Can I know you secret identity?"
"No!" Bart had been asking the same question all night.
"Oh."
Bart stared listlessly into the fire, he'd been frozen on the way here and now he was warm, it made him sleepy. Bart yawned.
Robin yawned, he hadn't realized how tired he was.
Bart yawned again.
Robin yawned again, stretching his arms behind his back.
Bart yawned again.
"Will you stop that!"
Bart shook himself out of his stupor and looked up, "what?"
"Don't you know yawning like that is contagious?"
Bart blinked, still not quite awake, "Sorry, I'm tired."
"Then go to sleep."
"Ok."
"I don't suppose you brought a change of..."
Bart was suddenly above Robin, completely nude, handing upside down by his ankles from a rafter, fast asleep.
"...clothing." Robin marveled. He'd seen Bruce sleep that way once, it was an endurance test, Bart apparently did it for fun. Then his eyes were drawn to Bart's most prominent feature. Bart's slender unerect penis traced a gentle curve from his crotch, past his belly button and lay flat against his abdomen. Four and a half inches unaroused. Impressive for a 14 year old. "Well, I guess a thousand more years of selective breeding does something to a gene pool."
Robin slowly stripped off his uniform, leaving only his mask and boxers. He gathered a few of the emergency blankets and made a bed on the couch. As he lay down, he noticed that Bart was hanging directly above him, but there was nothing to be done, the couch had remained undisturbed for so many years that it had permanently adhered to the floor. Robins eyes lingered on Bart's cock, flickering in the firelight, before falling into a deep sleep.
Robin awoke to the feeling of something wet on his face.
Groggily, he wiped his face with his hand. Where was he? Oh yeah, White Heat, Bart, the cabin. Robin sat up. He looked uncomprehendingly at his hand. Was the cabin leaking? No, it wasn't water. Well, he'd been trained in substance identification. He sniffed his hand. It smelled funny. Tentatively, he licked it. It tasted funny too, familiar, almost like... Robin looked up. "Aw no!"
There was Bart, still sound asleep, hanging nude by his ankles from the
rafter, an expression of pure bliss on his face, and fluid dripping from his rapidly deflating cock. He'd had a wet dream, depositing most of the evidence smack dab into Robin's hair. "And I tasted it!"
For a moment Robin seriously considered killing Bart, but even he had to admit that, however annoying Bart was when he was awake, he couldn't hold Bart responsible for what happened while he was asleep. It didn't meant he had to like it though. Angrily, Robin grabbed one of the blankets and wiped off his hand and face, he still couldn't get it completely out of his hair and the slightly cinnamon taste of it lingered in his mouth. He was in a foul mood.
His mood hadn't improved an hour later when Bart awoke at the smell of breakfast. Bart sniffed tentatively about the simmering saucepan on the coals. "You cook?"
Robin's response was cold, "yes, it's an essential survival skill. I can also filet, ferment and butcher just about any animal." He looked especially hard at Bart with that last.
Bart, oblivious to Robin's hostility, dipped a finger into the pan, licked it. "What is this substance?"
"Lard. I haven't started yet." Robin found the retching sounds Bart made deeply satisfying on some level.
Bart looked sullen up until breakfast arrived, then he dug in with gusto. Robin could only look on in amazement as Bart paved his way through three whole plates of powdered flap jacks without coming up for air. Midway through the second helping, he dismissed it as a side effect of his accelerated metabolism and settled down to eat his own breakfast.
While Robin cleaned up, Bart amused himself with the contents of the cabin. He seemed fascinated by the canned goods, unable to fathom their function. That was fine by Robin, whatever kept Bart out of his way. He only interceded when Bart seemed to have reached the conclusion that they could be baked in the fire like a potato, gently removing the already bulging cans from the coals before they burst.
Following his telling off after what quickly became known at the 'chili
incident', Bart seemed to calm down. Contenting himself to snuggling by the fire in increasingly intricate furniture and blanket forts that he tore down and rebuilt every fifteen minutes or so. Robin welcomed the relative solitude, taking the opportunity to attempt to reconstruct his cell phone. It didn't look encouraging. The main board was cracked, and while it didn't look as if any of the components were missing, it would take days of microsoddering to piece it together again.He was about five hours into remerging two relatively straight cracks when he realized that he'd been putting them together backwards. With a small sigh, he began to take apart the work it'd taken him all day to do. Just as he was finishing, he heard a voice over his shoulder "Robin?"
Robing, paused, broke the final connection, bagged the components for the night, and turned. "Yes Bart, what is it now?"
For a moment, the sight of Bart took Robin's breath away. He'd tried to force him to put on some of the flannels they'd found in the cabin's supplies, but Bart had positively swum in them. As a concession to Robin, Bart at least wore his briefs around the cabin. Keeping a roaring fire going all through the day to compensate for the cold. If nothing else, he'd done that right. They'd both been sweating and Robin himself was down to his boxers and mask, which was beginning to itch uncomfortably from the heat. If he didn't give the skin around his eyes a chance to breath soon, he'd develop a rash. But for just a moment, the sight of Bart there, sweating, flushed, briefs clinging to his young body while the firelight played behind him, left Robin dumbstruck. He recovered himself just soon enough to hear Bart say "-ell me who you are."
Robin was nothing if not fleet of mind, and Bart's was rather one track, he recovered quickly. "Because I said so. Bart, just accept that I'm not gonna tell you my name."
Bart sulked, as he always did when Robin refused to answer this question. Taking advantage of the awkward moment, Robin grabbed one of the blankets Bart had been using on his fort off of a chair and jumped back into the couch. "Night Bart." He closed his eyes and made a concentrated effort to fall asleep.
Bart yawned wide and in one single, fluid motion, he stripped off his briefs, silhouetted perfectly against the firelight, and jumped, his overlarge hands catching on the rafter directly above Robin's head. He swung his legs around and again swung free, nude, by his ankles above Robin. "G'night Robin!"
Robin glared up at Bart for a long time, unable to sleep. It didn't help that Bart fell asleep immediately, a look of absolute peace and contentment on his face. Robin found himself again admiring Bart's body, so different from his own. Bart had a runner's body, slim and wiry, every muscle clearly defined, yet not interfering with the smooth lines of Bart's body. He still had the smooth skin of youth, and Robin found himself wondering how soft it would feel beneath his fingers...
On that thought, Robin once again drifted off to sleep.
Robin jerked awake at the first wet touch on his face.
His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by a very singular sight. Bart Allen, a look of absolute ecstasy on his sleeping face, writhing in the throes or orgasm, his penis fully engorged, jetting load after load of translucent cum into the air, describing a beautiful arc towards Robin's face. Robin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off as one thick wad skipped off his front teeth and landed slimily on his tongue. Indignant, Robin rolled off the couch, the last of Bart's cum spraying hot against his shoulder blades.
Robin stared at Bart's lightly shuddering form suspended from the rafter in rapt amazement. He'd never seen anyone, let alone another guy, have an orgasm in front of his eyes before. Bart's sweaty body glistened in the firelight -- the images was just so powerful ...
Robin clutched at his boxers, groaning in need as he pulled them off, his steel-hard 5 inches flying loose of the confining material with an audible snap against his 14 year old washboard stomach. Seeing Bart there... just jetting into the air, the look of absolute purity, innocence, ecstasy -- whatever it was on his face had awakened in Robin the lust he'd been holding back for the last few days.
Robin touched himself tentatively, with uncertain hands. He'd done this before, but not often. A good, bone-wearing physical workout would kill your sex drive quicker than anything he could possibly think of. But here, now, staring hungrily at Bart's slim form, hanging upside down from his ankles by a rafter, blissfully asleep after his relief, Robin wanted that. He wanted the relief he saw in Bart. He wanted the RELEASE -- he wanted- Robin's hands jerked spastically at his shaft, working it dryly in the firelight. This would never do. Robin wiped Bart's cum from his face, he made chewing motions with his jaw to build up a load of spit, inadvertently rolling that much of Bard's semen over his tongue. The thought- the taste, it just made him hornier. He spit into his hand, a great thick gob of foamy spit mixed with Bart's cum. He longed to just grab his aching cock and stroke, but he exercised control. Control in all things, even this.
Robin's other hand slid dryly along his shaft a few last times, sending
brief shudders of pleasure through his body. His fingers found the beads of precum forming at the tip and smeared them over his head. On an impulse (God, being this close to Bart for this long was beginning to affect him) he did something he'd never done before and brought his sticky fingers to his mouth, licking the tips clean, one at a time. He was surprised at the flavor of the precum. Sweet, not like Bart's spiciness, not like his own -- arms trembling with the strain of control, Bart brought the gob of spit and semen he'd generated to his cock. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the warm foam of spit bubbles first engulfed his cockhead. This was already the hottest j/o he'd ever done, and he knew it, taking it slow. He savored the sensation as he drew his hands across his cock, slickening it for the first time, not only with his fluids, but with Bart's.
Robin was on his knees next to the couch, the dimming fireplace on one side of him, the couch with Bart hanging above him on the other. For a moment, he just wrapped his hands around his cock and held it there, spit and spent semen squirting out between his fingers as he leaned back, took a breath and held it.
On instant of time, hormones pounding through his bloodstream, his back
arched as he completed his first languid stroke, the warmth and light of the fireplace on his right side warming him, Bart's taut runner's body, blissfully asleep, filled his vision. The fire roared in his ears, and for a moment he could have sworn that he WAS the fire, trembling, the every twitch of his muscles sending little trickles of pleasure up his spine. The wind seemed to rush past his eyes like molasses as he let out one long songless breath, more an expression of life than anything he could have spoken aloud.
Then the moment broke. His breath ran from his lungs, his fingers resumed their motion, gripping spastically at his member. He blinked uncontrollably as his own unsure fingers found the head, dancing around it, over it, through the piss slit, rubbing at the area right below that.
Robin was suddenly conscious of a single bead of sweat trickling it's way down his abdomen. He slowed his movements, this incredible last sensory element seeming to overload him. The drop as both cold and unbelievably hot against his skin as it traced a line along his neck across his chest, and his taut abdomen. He could feel the individual hairs alight as it passed over them. His body seemed to be saying 'yes, this' his breath came in
gasping shudders as the droplet described a shallow arc around his belly button and disappeared inside, the sensation vanished.
Like a wave that had been held back, his oncoming orgasm was suddenly everywhere, all over him again. His every muscles was tight, waiting for it, knowing it. He leaned his head back, looking at Bart again, seeing his face. Such a face -- it didn't exist in this time. No lines, no cares, no worries. Robin noticed something he hadn't seen before, one single last thread of semen hanging over Bart's chin, the only remnant on the boy of the orgasm that has rocked his body just minutes ago. For some reason, that little spot of cum draped so awkwardly at Bart's chin was what set him off.
Robin's hands gave up his staccato pulse and his left moved down to grip his virtually hairless balls, gently massaging them with he warm fluids dripping down from his cock while his thumb still crooked around the base of his pole. His right hand reached up to embrace the cockhead, thumb and
forefinger forming an intimate circle below it, urging him onward. His cock slipped gently through his loving hands as his hips began to fuck forward. Robin grinned wildly, a look of absolute ecstasy on his face as he look one last look at Bart's body before he blew.
Thick strands of semen landed all over him, his stomach, his chest, his
arms... Robin's knees finally gave out trying to support his orgasming body as he fell completely onto his back, cum spraying everywhere. One load managed to make it onto the fireplace where it bubbled and hissed on the dying logs. Robin loved the smell. As Robin vented the last of his load, he found himself staring at Bart hanging there, wondering what it felt like for him, what it would be like to hold him as he came, to feel some of what he felt -- that set him off again as his body sent one last trickling load of semen to pool and chill at the base of his cock. Robin lay there for a
long moment, catching his breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
With a groan, he rose. He wiped himself on the same towel he'd used the previous night. He positively REEKED of cum, both his own and Bart's. Well, he could count on Bart not to notice, he'd have to rig up some kind of bath tomorrow.
Robin considered putting his sweaty boxers back on, but just couldn't force himself to do so. Too much oppressive against his flushed body. It was as he was about to crawl back onto the couch that he paused.
Bart hung there, as peaceful as ever, serene really. He'd remained totally oblivious to Robin's movements. Robin licked his lips nervously. There, still hanging from his 14 year old chin, was that little trickle of jelled cum that has so set him off. He wanted it. Moving carefully so as to make no sound, Robin stood on the couch, balancing precariously, and brought his head level with Bart's upside-down chin. He considered trying to just lift it off, maybe he could do so without waking Bart .... But here so close to him -- he could smell Bart, musky, like him, but at the same time not. His own personal scent. Acting without thinking, before he could turn back, Robin licked it off Bart's chin with one fluid motion.
Bart stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. Robin breathed in deeply,
tasting his breath. "Sweet dreams Bart." he murmured.
Robin lay down to sleep, savoring the boy's taste on his tongue, and wondering what it meant. Sure- he'd jacked off with Bart's cum, but the sight of him going off like that -- it'd just set him going. he couldn't control himself. And besides, even if he did, there was nothing wrong with that. He wasn't gay or anything. Everybody jerked off, sometimes even in groups. No, he was perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about.
With that comforting thought in his head, Robin snuggled up by the dying fire with the other boy's taste at his lips, and fell asleep.
I really intended on making this a series, but this took me so long (I've been working on it since the publication in December) that that idea's pretty much hashed unless people go wild for this. (I wouldn't) Even then, no guarantees.
-Mazer114@hotmail.com
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