"Father," Damian said, his voice low but steady, kneeling in front of Bruce in the dimly lit study. His fingers hovered over the buckle of Bruce’s belt, his gaze unwavering. "Let me show you... I can be useful in more ways than you think."Bruce’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of Damian’s movements. The air was thick, charged with something neither of them had dared to name before. "Damian," Bruce started, his voice rough, "this isn’t—""Shhh," Damian interrupted, his tone soft yet commanding, his fingers finally working the buckle loose. "Trust me."The belt slipped free, and Damian’s hands moved to the button of Bruce’s trousers. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head. Bruce’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk behind him. He didn’t stop Damian. He couldn’t. There was something in his son’s eyes—a determination, a need to prove himself—that froze Bruce in place.The zipper came down with a soft hiss, and Damian’s hands slid the fabric down Bruce’s hips, revealing the growing bulge beneath. Damian’s eyes flicked up to meet Bruce’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.Then Damian leaned forward, his lips brushing against the fabric of Bruce’s briefs. Bruce’s grip on the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Damian," he warned, his voice strained, but Damian didn’t stop. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled down, freeing Bruce’s hard cock into the cool air of the study.Damian’s breath ghosted over the length, and Bruce’s entire body tensed. "Damian," he said again, sharper this time, but his voice lacked the authority he usually wielded. It was more of a plea than a command.Damian smirked, his eyes dark with a mix of mischief and hunger. "Father," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down Bruce’s spine. "Relax. Let me take care of you."Before Bruce could protest further, Damian leaned in, his lips closing around the tip of Bruce’s cock. Bruce’s head fell back, a low groan escaping his throat as Damian’s tongue swirled expertly around the sensitive head. Damian’s hands moved to cradle Bruce’s balls, massaging them gently but firmly, and Bruce couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, seeking more of that wet heat.Damian hummed in approval, the vibration shooting straight to Bruce’s core. He took more of Bruce into his mouth, his throat relaxing as he swallowed him deeper. Bruce’s hands left the desk, one tangling in Damian’s hair while the other gripped his shoulder, trying to ground himself as Damian’s mouth worked him with a skill that belied his youth.It didn’t take long for the tension in Bruce’s body to coil tight, his hips stuttering as Damian’s tongue flicked over the underside of his cock. "Damian," he gasped, his voice rough and desperate. "I’m—"Damian pulled back just enough to look up at Bruce, his lips still wrapped around the tip. His eyes were dark, smoldering with a mix of pride and something else—something possessive. "Let go, Father," he murmured, his voice muffled but clear. "I’ve got you."And Bruce did. With a shuddering moan, he came, spilling into Damian’s mouth. Damian swallowed every drop, his hands still massaging Bruce’s balls as he milked him through the aftershocks. When Bruce finally went limp, Damian pulled back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk."I aim to please, Father," he said, his voice dripping with a mix of reverence and teasing. He stood, his movements fluid and confident, and straightened his clothes as if nothing had happened. Bruce couldn’t tear his eyes away, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just transpired.Damian’s smirk widened as he turned to leave the study, pausing at the door to glance back over his shoulder. "I’ll be up late tonight, training in the cave," he said casually, as if they’d just discussed patrol schedules. "Feel free to join me... if you’re up for it."And with that, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone in the study, his mind racing and his body still tingling from the encounter. He sank into the chair behind the desk, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. What had just happened? And more importantly, what did it mean for them—for their relationship, for their dynamic as father and son, as Batman and Robin?Bruce didn’t have answers. All he knew was that Damian had crossed a line—and he wasn’t sure if either of them could go back.

In the dimly lit study, Damian knelt before Bruce, his voice steady as he begged to prove his usefulness. Damian undressed Bruce and performed oral sex on him, despite Bruce's initial resistance and warnings. After Bruce's climax, Damian left the study, casually mentioning his plans to train in the cave and inviting Bruce to join him.

"Father," Damian said, his voice low but steady, kneeling in front of Bruce in the dimly lit study. His fingers hovered over the buckle of Bruce’s belt, his gaze unwavering. "Let me show you... I can be useful in more ways than you think."

Bruce’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of Damian’s movements. The air was thick, charged with something neither of them had dared to name before. "Damian," Bruce started, his voice rough, "this isn’t—"

"Shhh," Damian interrupted, his tone soft yet commanding, his fingers finally working the buckle loose. "Trust me."

The belt slipped free, and Damian’s hands moved to the button of Bruce’s trousers. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head. Bruce’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk behind him. He didn’t stop Damian. He couldn’t. There was something in his son’s eyes—a determination, a need to prove himself—that froze Bruce in place.

The zipper came down with a soft hiss, and Damian’s hands slid the fabric down Bruce’s hips, revealing the growing bulge beneath. Damian’s eyes flicked up to meet Bruce’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then Damian leaned forward, his lips brushing against the fabric of Bruce’s briefs. Bruce’s grip on the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Damian," he warned, his voice strained, but Damian didn’t stop. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled down, freeing Bruce’s hard cock into the cool air of the study.

Damian’s breath ghosted over the length, and Bruce’s entire body tensed. "Damian," he said again, sharper this time, but his voice lacked the authority he usually wielded. It was more of a plea than a command.

Damian smirked, his eyes dark with a mix of mischief and hunger. "Father," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down Bruce’s spine. "Relax. Let me take care of you."

Before Bruce could protest further, Damian leaned in, his lips closing around the tip of Bruce’s cock. Bruce’s head fell back, a low groan escaping his throat as Damian’s tongue swirled expertly around the sensitive head. Damian’s hands moved to cradle Bruce’s balls, massaging them gently but firmly, and Bruce couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, seeking more of that wet heat.

Damian hummed in approval, the vibration shooting straight to Bruce’s core. He took more of Bruce into his mouth, his throat relaxing as he swallowed him deeper. Bruce’s hands left the desk, one tangling in Damian’s hair while the other gripped his shoulder, trying to ground himself as Damian’s mouth worked him with a skill that belied his youth.

It didn’t take long for the tension in Bruce’s body to coil tight, his hips stuttering as Damian’s tongue flicked over the underside of his cock. "Damian," he gasped, his voice rough and desperate. "I’m—"

Damian pulled back just enough to look up at Bruce, his lips still wrapped around the tip. His eyes were dark, smoldering with a mix of pride and something else—something possessive. "Let go, Father," he murmured, his voice muffled but clear. "I’ve got you."

And Bruce did. With a shuddering moan, he came, spilling into Damian’s mouth. Damian swallowed every drop, his hands still massaging Bruce’s balls as he milked him through the aftershocks. When Bruce finally went limp, Damian pulled back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk.

"I aim to please, Father," he said, his voice dripping with a mix of reverence and teasing. He stood, his movements fluid and confident, and straightened his clothes as if nothing had happened. Bruce couldn’t tear his eyes away, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just transpired.

Damian’s smirk widened as he turned to leave the study, pausing at the door to glance back over his shoulder. "I’ll be up late tonight, training in the cave," he said casually, as if they’d just discussed patrol schedules. "Feel free to join me... if you’re up for it."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone in the study, his mind racing and his body still tingling from the encounter. He sank into the chair behind the desk, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. What had just happened? And more importantly, what did it mean for them—for their relationship, for their dynamic as father and son, as Batman and Robin?

Bruce didn’t have answers. All he knew was that Damian had crossed a line—and he wasn’t sure if either of them could go back.

In the dim study, Damian Wayne takes the initiative to prove his usefulness to his father, Bruce Wayne, in an unexpected and intimate way. The dynamic between father and son shifts as Damian performs a sexual act on Bruce, exploring themes of power, submission, and the blurred lines of their relationship.

Batman's Unexpected Lesson

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