AN: This piece is the one that was too adult to be included in "Play On"; I've got enough hot and heavy stuff on my account now, and it appears to have gone over okay. This one's obviously an AU, based off of a divergence at the formation (or not) of the Titans. Really, though, it was an excuse to write some smut between these two based off of the song Tip the Dancer by Panzer Ag. Also, see if you can spot a few cameos from DC and non-DC characters…

Disclaimer: I don't own these boys, but I do like making them do bad things to each other.

WARNING: Smutty, NSFW Slash ahead!

Tip the Dancer

The place was beyond seedy, even for a strip club. To say it was not well advertised would be the ultimate understatement; it had taken countless threats, a small fortune in bribes, and a handful of broken fingers to even get the address.

The dull thud of house music came from the other side of the steel door. That and the sticker with the "triple helix" design were the only indicators of the club's existence— the sticker meant this was a metahuman-friendly establishment… or at least that metahumans could be found here. Given the nature of what he knew went on behind that door, "friendly" was a bit of a stretch.

Robin was dressed in civilian clothes for the night; he wouldn't even be allowed inside as Robin, much less find any useful information. A black t-shirt and jeans sufficed to give him a neutral look, and dark sunglasses concealed his features.

He rang the bell, a gray dot on a matching wall, and stared into the camera overhead. After a moment, a buzzer sounded, and he pulled the door open.

A second reinforced door stood in front of him in a tiny hall with nothing but another security camera. Well-trained nerves from many years of such situations were the only thing that kept him from bolting before the way he had come was closed off to him. The second door would only open after the first had shut; he tried not to let the term "man-trap" bother him too much.

After a nerve-wracking few seconds, the buzzer sounded for the second door, and he entered.

Dim lighting and throbbing music were the order of the night. The club wasn't decorated with any amount of taste, and he was loath to think of how frequently (or infrequently) the couches were cleaned, but he was more likely to hear about rumblings in the metahuman underworld here than anywhere else.

The dancers were the ones with all the information; he remembered that much from one of Batman's lectures on undercover work. They were privy to all the secrets that spilled out when intoxicants and charming company loosened criminals' tongues.

After handing over one of his many fake IDs, Robin paid his entry fee and made sure the bouncer saw the thick wad of large bills that returned to his pocket, Once he was past the reception, Robin selected a seat at a medium distance from the stage. He ordered a mineral water, sealed, from the leggy blonde who maintained a belt of rocks circling her waist with yellow energy, then settled in for the show.

The first girl on the pole was attractive enough. Blue skin and yellow, glowing eyes were certainly exotic, and she moved with grace. Her top had already come off by the time he was watching, and her breasts were thankfully natural, if a bit on the smaller side among the sea of silicone. Her acrobatics were nothing to sneeze at, either; she handled several difficult inversions in the final moments of her stage time flawlessly, aided by a prehensile, spaded tail. The song ended, and she collected her bra and tips before wandering to a couch where a few girls awaited their turns.

His drink arrived as the next girl was being announced. He thanked the waitress and handed her a twenty before cracking the seal and hearing the satisfying fizz. Turning back to watch the stage, he was instantly captivated by the next dancer.

The girl was lithe and strikingly beautiful, with a pixie cut and fine, almost elfin features. Bathed in green light, she possessed the stage like no one he had ever seen. Everything about the way she moved oozed sex appeal, even as she lifted herself up into a technically challenging pose. There was a playful, almost predatory gleam to her eyes, and she worked the whole room as if she were dancing personally for each and every one of them. When her eyes fell upon Robin, she licked her lips and ran her hands over her curves, inviting his gaze. She turned away, but the spell did not shatter entirely. Rather, he remained at the edge of his seat as he watched her unhook her bra, then ascend the pole. As she crossed her legs and bent backwards into a handstand, the bra followed gravity downward, revealing a gorgeous pair of breasts.

"Hello, handsome," a voice with a soft accent, possibly German, whispered in his ear. He had seen the blue girl approaching, obviously to solicit a lap dance or something a bit more "private" from him, but he had already chosen his target. If the girl on stage had this effect on him, she was sure to be one of the favorites, and therefore more likely to have a bit of information available for the right price.

"I won't waste your time," he said, reaching into his pocket, "But if you could make sure the lady dancing right now comes to me first, I would appreciate it." The hundred he slipped into her g-string would be money well spent.

Sure enough, as the song ended and the lights dimmed for the dancer's exit, the blue girl pulled her aside and whispered to her, nodding in Robin's direction. The striking young lady smiled and sauntered over to Robin's couch, not bothering yet to replace her bra.

"You rang?" she asked. Her voice was soft, sultry, with a touch of gravel that made it all the more appealing.

"I'll be blunt: your time is valuable. And I'd like to buy a half hour of it. No starting off with lap dances and champagne; just a plain half hour." He hoped the all-business approach would be taken as a refreshing change from the requisite flirting most of the clientele expected.

Sliding onto the arm of the couch, the young woman smiled, coy but businesslike. "I'm flattered. And what might we do with that half hour?"

He gave her a smirk, playing the part of the arrogant rich boy as he fished into his pocket for the roll of hundreds. Eyeballing a stack of about thirty, he handed it over. "I don't believe in taking anything off the menu. I trust this should be enough to cover things?"

A quick nod on her part, and the deal was done. After slipping the money into her g-string, a simple but elegant piece with two parallel strings on each side, she took him by the hand and led him toward a pair of curtains across the room. Once through, he saw a hallway with a few doors, several of which were open a crack. She pulled him into one and closed the door behind them, turning the lock.

The room was sparsely but comfortably decorated. The king bed, nightstand and lamp were the only furnishings, but what else was to be expected from a brothel?

"Well, good-looking, you have a half hour. What's on your mind?" She stood with a hip cocked, eyebrow raised. In the low but pleasant light, he could finally see that her skin was, indeed, green. It hadn't just been the lighting.

He cleared his throat. "Well, to start off, I'm curious about this place—"

"Oh, this place is boring," she said, interrupting as she led him over to sit on the bed. "The boss is nice enough, and it's good money, but there's nothing special about it as strip clubs go."

"Your boss? And who might that be?"

The girl's expression turned to stone in an instant, and she got up and shoved a finger in his face. "No. Off limits. Seriously, you're paying three grand for half an hour with a woman you were drooling over, and you immediately want to turn it into a lovely little chat about my employers? You might as well have come in here with a sign that says 'I'm totally not a cop or vigilante crimefighter interested in ruining your business.'"

Robin flinched. "Sorry. So… how about telling me a little about yourself, then? Is that okay?"

A smirk flickered across the girl's face, and she launched into her spiel. "Me? I can be anyone or anything you want me to be…" She gave a smile that was practiced bashfulness. "Well, as long as green's your color." The line was delivered flawlessly, as he was certain it had been countless times before. Something about the statement tugged at his memory, though…

"Wait, you're always green and you can shapeshift?" He cocked his head to the side. "Beast Boy?"

Detective training notwithstanding, he wasn't expecting a sigh of relief to come from the… well, boy, now. "Thank god you're not as dense as you look, Robin," the young man said in a voice that held none of the innocence that had once been his hallmark. "Now I can take a break for once." Without a single scrap of fat on him to hide the muscle, Beast Boy was all hard, lean angles. This coupled with shoulder-length hair gave him a feral appearance that appealed to Robin more than he was willing to admit. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering downward to where he knew that g-string had to be straining to its limits… and failed miserably.

A chuckle let him know that he'd been caught. "Well, well… looks like I was right. You do swing both ways."

Uncomfortable with this new turn of events, Robin averted his face. "And you?" he asked, trying to turn some of the discomfort back on the green boy.

More laughter, unfamiliar in its tone. This was nowhere near the same Beast Boy who had stared starry-eyed at him and all but begged for his autograph. "In my line of work, I have to swing more ways than Sinatra. Can't say it's entirely unpleasant, though." That lewd grin on his face didn't belong there. It was all wrong.

"How'd you know it was me?" The change of subject was blatantly obvious, but Robin was grasping at straws.

The green boy snorted. "Really? Your 'disguise' sucks more than I do on a busy day. You can only pull off the sunglasses-at-night thing if you're old, overweight, and wearing a trench coat." With this, he flicked the offending eyewear off of Robin's face, letting it fall on the bed. Robin moved to replace the glasses, but a green hand caught his. "Don't worry about secret identity crap. The room has no cameras, it's dim enough, and I don't care who you are. If I ever wanted to identify you, all I'd need to track is that godawful cologne you still insist on wearing— horrendously expensive ingredients that turn into utter shit with your particular body chemistry. Really, if you're spending five hundred bucks a bottle, couldn't you at least get some help finding one that does what it's supposed to?"

To say Robin was gobsmacked was putting it lightly. "What happened to you?" he finally managed to blurt out.

"Well, Mr. I-Work-Alone, after you, me, and the rest of that gang split up after beating the space geckos, I went back to what I'd been doing for a few weeks— living in the park. Turns out that for all the leeway it cuts normal vagrants, though, JCPD isn't too keen on homeless metahumans. I wound up in the meta holding cells for a couple nights on a public urination charge that they were threatening to stack some more fabricated ones on top of. Basically, I could spend plenty of time in jail or skip town. I was gonna take them up on the offer and head off to Central, till someone posted bail. Long story short, that's my boss, and I've been here ever since."

The Boy Wonder stared aghast at him. "But you were only—"

"Yup. I prefer not to think about that, though it wasn't as horrible as you might think. Picked up lots of 'life skills,' as it were. Anyway, I'm nice and legal now, so you don't have to worry your ethical little head about what we're gonna do tonight."

"No, no, no… I just came here for information—"

"Hold up, Boy Blunder." Beast Boy's hand on his chest was enough to stop him from rising. "You better change your attitude if you wanna walk out of here with all of your appendages in original, working condition. First of all, never ask for information around here. You already made a mistake asking me, but if you start fishing around outside this room, you're in about two metric fucktons of trouble. You're on thin ice just being a new face around our little metahuman whorehouse, so if you start asking about the owner or any of the other patrons, you're gonna have problems even you can't fight your way out of.

"Second, it's gonna be real suspicious if you and I walk out of here and there's no cum on my breath." The hand on Robin's chest began stroking, practiced pressure exciting the blood vessels and nerves in record time. "So… either you're gonna loosen up enough about all this for me to give you a good time, or I'm gonna have to do some self-service and you're gonna sit there until I'm done." A moment later, Beast Boy was straddling him, hands on his shoulders as he leaned back to give his client a good view. "So," the scratchy, smoky voice whispered, "Which is it gonna be?"

All of Robin's higher functions seemed to shut down. His mouth worked but produced no sound, and his hands hovered in the air, unable to decide whether they wanted to drop to his sides or find their way to those tantalizing hips in front of him.

Beast Boy let out a little giggle, a hint of the mischievous boy Robin had once known. "Well then, hearing no bingos, we'll continue on to the consolation prize until the world's second greatest detective can figure out which of his organs deserves the blood for the moment." With that, he slid off Robin's lap and took up position on the floor, back to the Boy Wonder.

Catlike, he stretched, showing off that gorgeous, barely-covered ass in a universal invitation, and repeated the action in profile to give Robin a better view of all of him at once. Then, leaning backwards until his head touched the ground, Beast Boy began trailing his hands up and down his torso, getting closer and closer with each pass to the g-string that was failing to contain his swelling package. Two fingers hooked into the elastic, and his legs straightened to give Robin a perfect view as he freed his erection from its confines.

Robin knew his mouth was open, knew his cock was hardening unbidden as he watched the spectacle. Some small part of him knew he should be ashamed, would be ashamed when thinking of this later, but for now, he was transfixed.

The languid strokes Beast Boy was giving himself were the stuff of Robin's more secret fantasies, and the moans would linger in his dreams for a long time to come. The gyrating thrusts that brought his ass into the air were maddening.

What the green boy did next, though, was Robin's undoing.

Placing his hands underneath his hips, Beast Boy lifted his legs off the ground and began folding his body in on itself ever so slowly. Powerful abdominal muscles clenched and rolled as he brought his feet past his head to touch the ground, hips growing ever closer to his face.

Performing fellatio upon oneself is no simple task, and requires a combination of flexibility and above-average endowment. Beast Boy was certainly gifted in the latter regard, but even more importantly, he was extremely flexible.

His tongue darted out, pink shockingly vibrant against so much green, and began swirling around the engorged head of his own prick. When the first few inches disappeared into that waiting mouth, Robin couldn't contain a moan.

A green eye snapped over to him, and though Robin couldn't see the other one, he knew instinctively that Beast Boy was winking. After a few more shallow thrusts, the boy pushed downwards on his hips, taking his length nearly all the way in before kicking his legs to pull out and somersault into a crouching position. As the boy crawled closer on all fours, Robin saw the raw smolder of sex in his eyes.

"Ah, there we are," he said, words more growled than spoken. His hands slid up from Robin's knees to his thighs, then began to massage along the V that ran from his inner thighs to the tops of his hipbones. Robin's eyes rolled back in his head as expert hands slid under pants and boxers to begin teasing his tip. He didn't even notice when he was stripped of both, until that hand found enough purchase to begin stroking in earnest.

If there had been any scrap of rational thought in the black-haired boy's mind, it fled in that moment. He began hammering his hips upward, trying to get more and more of that feeling. Then came the heat and wet and tight and he looked down and ohgod those green eyes looking up at him nearly made him blow his load right then. As if sensing this, though, the boy who was giving him the best head of his young life encircled his balls and shaft with a thumb and forefinger, squeezing just hard enough to be uncomfortable.

Beast Boy's lips slipped off Robin's head with an audible pop, and he released his grip when the twitching subsided. "Uh-uh," he said, eyes hooded with lust. "You're not getting off that easy, Boy One-Minute Wonder. You paid for a half hour, and you're gonna get your money's worth." His tongue ran up and down the length of Robin's shaft, teasing him for what felt like an eternity before his mouth descended and began sucking again. The pace was agonizingly slow, and Robin would have been thrusting deep into that welcoming throat if strong hands hadn't been holding his hips in place. When Beast Boy did finally slide all the way down, lips pressed flush against neatly trimmed hair, Robin's groan started somewhere around his toes and traveled upwards.

On and on the teasing went as Beast Boy showed the young superhero heretofore unimagined tricks and techniques to please a man. Some of them he filed away for future reference; most, he couldn't even stay coherent enough to process what was happening. Somewhere in the action, he had lost his shirt and was now all but naked, pants pooled around his ankles. He did notice, however, that Beast Boy's dick was throbbing and dripping with arousal, and the green boy would occasionally let out a wanton moan around the cock in his mouth as he stroked himself.

Finally, Beast Boy crawled onto the bed to join Robin, pulling the older boy on top of him. With his legs wrapped around the Boy Wonder, he brought their erections together and began stroking like a madman with both hands. Their precum mingled together and set their nerves aflame, and neither of them was holding back the sounds of their pleasure.

"Oh god yes, give it to me," that sultry voice said, almost plaintive. "Give me your cum, Robin. Come all over me…"

Green met blue, and like a switch being thrown, Robin began to spasm and cry out. His release spilled out of him, longer and more intense than any he had ever experienced. As if in answer to him, Beast Boy whimpered and growled and gnashed his teeth as he, too, spurted on his taut abdomen and beautiful face.

They lay there, panting, until the younger boy slid out from under Robin and opened a little drawer in the nightstand next to the bed. Producing a container of wet wipes, he handed a few to his client before attending to himself. After a minute or so of cleanup, Robin looked back at the boy, who was now kneeling at his feet bringing his boxers and pants back up his legs.

"So," Beast Boy began, a little shaky but obviously pleased with himself, "How'd you like that?"

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts and breath, Robin tried to come up with something noncommittal, but nothing would come out except, "Amazing."

He could never have expected the childish, gleeful giggle that sprang from the naked green boy. And was he… bouncing? Yes, he certainly was, and his softening member was following along.

"I made Robin come like a fountain! This is awesome!" His voice was low enough that Robin wasn't worried about them being heard, but it was odd to say the least.

As he reached for his shirt, which had ended up atop the lamp, the Boy Wonder cast sidelong glances at the giddy young man as he cavorted around the room. He knew some people were prone to odd behavior post-orgasm, but really? As he pulled his shirt over his head, though, he wasn't expecting to see a green, fanged face so close. With a squawk, Robin fell back on the bed, and Beast Boy straddled him again.

"Well, Mister Robin, Sir, I have to say that was quite lovely. You should come back and see me again soon." The boy was starting to revert to his original business-of-pleasure demeanor, and Robin couldn't stand it.

Putting a hand on Beast Boy's shoulder, he looked into his eyes. "You know, you don't have to do this. I have money… a lot of it. I can get you out of here, make it so they can't find you—"

Lips on his silenced him. When they broke apart after a few seconds, Beast Boy seemed bashful. "Look, Robin, I appreciate the offer, but… I've gotten oddly fond of my life here. It's not perfect, but it fits me, and I'm good at it." He looked to the side and smiled, wistful. "I never was all that great at being a superhero anyway."

Taking a breath, Robin nodded. "All right. I guess I'll let you get back to work, then." He gently moved Beast Boy to the side before standing and raking a hand through his hair. "I don't think I can come back here, you know. This goes against everything I'm supposed to be fighting for."

"I know." Beast Boy's ears drooped.

"Well, I guess at least now we don't have to worry about someone getting suspicious," he supplied, fishing for some positive to the situation.

"Suspicious?" The green boy cocked his head to the side, confusion written all over his face.

"Yeah, you know… suspicious about us being in here for half an hour and not coming out looking like we've done anything."

Beast Boy's laughter turned Robin's face bright red.

"Oh my god, I forgot about that," he said, wiping moisture from his eye. "Uhh… yeah, that was total bullshit. No one cares what goes on in these rooms as long as it doesn't interfere with the business. I have some clients who buy me out for the night and use me as a living stuffed animal so they can sleep. No sex, nada."

Robin fumbled with his words. "But then… what… why…"

"Oh, come on," said Beast Boy with a shrug and a rueful grin. "I had the chance of a lifetime in front of me, and I was pretty sure you wanted it too, so all I did was give us both the option."

"Chance of a lifetime?" Robin asked, perplexed.

The changeling snorted. "Well, duh! How many boys out there can say they've sucked their favorite superhero's cock?"

Robin was fairly sure he was turning a vibrant shade of purple, judging by the intensity of the burning in his cheeks.

Looking a bit remorseful, Beast Boy took hold of Robin's hand. "Look, about all this… you can't ask me to change. It's part of who I am… a pretty big part now. But if you can find a way to be okay with it… maybe we can meet up again sometime? Off the clock, nothing illegal."

Everything in his training was screaming at Robin not to compromise, but he couldn't help but reach for the olive branch. "Yeah, maybe we can. I think I'd like that."

For the second time, their lips came together. This time Robin was ready, and he returned the kiss with fervor. Both of them were a bit short of breath when they broke apart, and they wore identical smiles.

"So… I guess I'll see you around." The green boy handed Robin his sunglasses and turned him toward the door.

"Yeah… see you around." When he was through the door, though, he made an immediate about-face. "Wait! How do I find you?"

The changeling's chuckle was wicked and more than a little seductive. "You're the detective, Bird Brain. You want me so bad? Track me down."

The door closed in Robin's face, and he wandered out of the club in a daze. Once outside, he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for…

Wait.

His rather large wad of money had gone missing. In its place was a hastily scrawled note on a scrap of paper.

Lunch is on me if you can find me. Thank you for tipping your dancer!