Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/571731.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_-_Comicverse
  Relationship:
      Tim_Drake/Kon-El
  Character:
      Tim_Drake, Kon-El
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-24 Words: 6848
****** Heels Over Head ******
by iesika
Summary
     In which tables are turned and couches are broken. For Pornday.
It took Kon several years to get up the nerve to ask Tim if he maybe wanted to
try going on a date sometime. Tim’s always been hot, but at first he was was
creepy and intimidating, and then he’d been frustrating and intimidating, and
then he’d been...
Kon’s best friend. His confidant. And this super competent, terrifyingly
vulnerable human being under the mask - with a girlfriend. And Kon’d had
Cassie. And then Tim didn’t have a girlfriend, or a dad, and Kon had died, and
Tim had, by all accounts, decided to try for creepy, frustrating, and
intimidating.
But then eventually they were both Titans again, and both single, and one night
they’d both been hungry. And Tim was still competent, and still hot, and still
human, though maybe it wasn’t so terrifying anymore. Kon had broached the
question, and Tim had sat there in silence for a full minute before he’d
shrugged and said, “sure. Thai or Italian?”
It had taken Kon several dates to get up the nerve to try for a kiss. When he
did - careful, slow, and tentative, Tim had been so surprised he’d actually
jumped when their lips met. Kon had been an absolutely perfect gentleman,
keeping all appendages to himself. Ma would have been proud, even if it took
sitting on his hands to do it.
It had taken a lot more of those chaste and gentle kisses before he’d tried for
tongue. More before a hand up Tim’s shirt, and a hand on on his ass, and...
Kon’s jeans are really, really uncomfortable. He’d like to do something about
that, but he’s afraid that if he moves too much, Tim will stop...rubbing up
against him like that. Like Kon’s leg feels really, really good. And Kon would
like to tell him he’s got other body parts that would feel even better, but the
truth is, Kon’s been terrified since the first time they made out that Tim is
going to spook like a shy horse and buck Kon right off.
He thinks Tim’s a virgin. Really a virgin, because he never does anything until
after Kon’s done it first, like he’s learning what kind of touches are okay.
Kon’s tried to even the scales a bit, maybe set him at ease, by confessing that
he’s never been with a dude before now, but he’s pretty sure that made
everything worse for some reason. Made Tim even more shy, more tentative in his
touches and, mmm, kisses.
Hot kisses, because hey, at least they’re over whatever invisible roadblock
means he can suck on Tim’s tongue and get moaning in return. Tim really knows
how to use his teeth, too, and Kon shouldn’t be so surprised that he’s got a
bit of a dangerous streak in him, but he honestly never expected it in this
context.
This is, after all, the guy who dated Stephanie Brown for years and apparently
never went for it. Kon is pretty sure he could have managed that for, like, a
month. Maybe. But then again, he’s been thinking about this practically since
he was born, and this is the very first time he’s rubbed a thumb over Tim’s
nipple. Not for lack of planning, though. Tim would be very proud of the level
of planning he’s put into this moment. This - oh god, Tim’s hand just slipped
into his back pocket. Kon makes an embarrassing noise and almost manages not to
hump Tim’s leg. “Jesus.”
Tim’s hand withdraws suddenly when Kon speaks, but Kon catches it before it
gets far and puts it right back where it was.
“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. I want-” wait, that sounds pushy. “You can touch me
anywhere you want?” He hates that it comes out so unsure. Tim lets his head
fall back and looks up at him, eyes searching. Kon swallows hard and looks
down. He can see his hand under Tim’s t-shirt. The fabric is stretched up
around his wrist, baring Tim’s stomach. There’s a faint line of dark hair under
his navel, and Kon’s seen it a few times before, but, again, context.
He moves his hand - first forward, rucking up Tim’s shirt a little further, and
then down, mesmerized by the sight of his hand on Tim’s skin. When his
fingertips circle Tim’s navel, Tim’s belly jumps, ticklish, and it makes Kon
smile. He glaces at Tim’s face.
Tim looks... really turned on. Fucking score. He’s staring at Kon’s hand, too,
apparently just as hypnotized. Kon drags his thumb down the little happy trail
and hooks it into the waistband of Tim’s pants. His fingers curl around Tim’s
belt buckle, but he doesn’t go any further than that.
And he’s been worried about Tim bucking, but when Tim really does buck it’s the
hottest thing Kon’s ever seen - slim hips arching off the couch in a small,
sharp thrust, and that's definitely an erection outlined clearly when his pants
pull tight. If Kon’s other noises have been embarrassing, this one is downright
humiliating, and it makes Tim go still. Kon wants to punch himself in the face.
He wants to apologize. He wants-
He wants to rip Tim’s pants off and rub off against his abs. He wants to suck
him until he screams and sink into him balls-deep and fuck his mouth and roll
over for him and kiss him again and. The messages are mixed but they all mean
the same thing anyway.
And then Tim’s hips move again, just slightly, shifting so that the hold Kon’s
got on Tim’s belt pulls his pants tight again. Kon has to fight off the urge to
just dive face-first for Tim’s lap. “You’re so hot,” he says, as an
alternative. It’s inane but it’s true, and it seems to startle Tim. “What,
nobody ever inform you of that fact?”
“Not you,” Tim says, matter-of-factly, and then he’s - fuck - sitting up a
little and moving - leaving? No, he’s taking off his shirt. His nipples are
flat and small and brown, and Kon is bent halfway to Tim’s chest with his lips
parted before he realizes what he’s doing. He slows, moving carefully, looking
to Tim for permission and reassurance, and kisses Tim’s sternum.
Tim’s fingertips come to rest in his hair, not pushing him away, but not
pulling him closer, either, so Kon sort of stays where he is, lavishing
attention on Tim’s skin and oh fuck god yes getting to taste him. The skin
under his tongue is smooth, but studded with scars, and covered in a fine, fine
sheen of salt that tastes absolutely delicious.
When Tim makes a little sound, high in his throat, Kon pulls back to look at
him. “Is this okay?” He bites his lip and waits. Tim sucks in a breath and lets
it out slowly. His fingers shake minutely when he puts both hands on Kon's
chest, stroking him through his shirt. Kon groans and presses against his hands
until Tim takes the not-so-subtle hint and firms his touch.
“You want to take yours off, too?” Tim asks. Kon swallows hard and nods. Before
he can move, though, Tim's hands shift, rucking up Kon's shirt, hard-callused
hands stroking up the skin underneath. Kon sits up all the way and and uses his
telekinesis to yank off his shirt so that his hands can get back to what they
want to be doing. When the shirt comes off his head, Tim is staring up at him
with wide, wide eyes. Kon's hand has managed to end up on Tim's belt again. Kon
pries his fingers loose and tries not to whimper.
He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he feels Tim's fingertips on his
cheek. Kon opens his eyes and and looks down.
“Do you...want me to take my pants off?” Tim asks, quietly, and Kon’s head
explodes.
Jesus fucking H. Christ bareback on a motherfucking pogo stick yes! “If-If you
want,” he manages to stammer, totally cool. “That would be nice.”
Tim smiles, and the hand on Kon’s cheek squeezes gently before stroking over
his ear and into his hair. Then he lets go to reach between them and put a hand
on his belt buckle.
Kon floats up to watch as he opens it, deft hands quick on the buckle. The
leather makes a whispering sound as it drags against the cloth, loud and
pregnant as thunder to Kon’s hearing.
“You are so fucking hot,” he mumbles as he watches. Tim’s hips arch a few
inches as the belt tugs free, and Kon falters in slack jawed-lust and drops,
like a sex-crazed stone. Tim’s hands get caught between them, and for a few
blistering seconds, his wrist presses against the front of Kon’s jeans. Kon’s
not proud of himself, but he absolutely humps it.
Tim’s hand jerks away, and for a moment Kon thinks he’s ruined everything, but
no - hot hands press to his bare back, arms around him, skin on skin, and Tim
hisses through his teeth and grinds back. Kon licks those bared teeth until
Tim’s mouth softens just enough.
Oh god, it feels good. Kon should be content with this. Kon could easily get
off like this, but when he manages to stop biting Tim’s mouth, what comes out
is, “maybe we could both take our pants off?” It sounds so stupidly, blatantly
hopeful that Kon immediately squeezes his eyes shut and knocks his head against
Tim’s shoulder. “Fuck, don’t listen to me.”
Tim’s body stills.
Kon thinks he might cry. To get this far, and then screw it up with his big
mouth... He bangs his head against Tim a few more times.
“Kon, stop it.” Tim’s voice is soft, and doesn’t sound panicky or anything, so
Kon does what he asks. “Look at me. Here, scoot up.”
They maneuver around until they’re both sitting upright on the couch. Kon sits
facing the muted television with his hands in his lap. Beside him, Tim kneels,
facing him.
“Kon...” Tim puts his hand on Kon’s shoulder. “We can take this as slow as you
want to, okay? You don’t need to force yourself.”
Kon blinks. “Force myself?” He’s so shocked that his stupid tongue runs away
with him again. “Dude, the only forcing myself I’m doing is not ripping your
pants off.”
Tim opens his mouth and closes it again, his hand on Kon’s shoulder suddenly
full of tension. Kon is ready to just fly off and pretend he was been possessed
by...something. Maybe he can blame Ivy? Eventually Tim stands up, and Kon’
knows that this is it, he’s lost Tim forever, he’s scared him away, he’s REALLY
fucked up this time-
But Tim is taking off his pants.
Taking off his pants with fast, efficient movements.
Briefs. Plain white, and it should be dorky, but there’s an erection in those
tighty-whiteys, and it’s Tim’s, and Kon put it there, and Kon’s brain shorts
out. “What?”
“Pants off. That’s what you wanted? Do you want to do this on the couch or the
bed?”
Bed? Kon thinks his brain is still broken. “Are we really going to have sex?”
Tim pauses in the middle of folding his jeans, and turns back to look at Kon,
suddenly, strangely, tentative again. It’s a weird look, paired with the hard
on. “Do you want to?”
“Yes!” Shit. That wasn’t how he meant to say that, but fuck it, it’s out there.
He watches in dull amazement as Tim pulls a handful of condoms and a tube of
lubricant out of the pocket of the jeans and drops them onto the couch before
setting the pants neatly onto the chair. The tube is clear, and half empty.
“You want to?”
Tim looks at him strangely. “Of course I want to. I’ve been waiting for you to
get more comfortable with the idea.” He hooks his thumb in the band of his
briefs and then pauses. “This is okay? It’s just... well, the idea of your date
having a theoretical penis is one thing. I know you’ve never been with a guy
before.”
“Dude, I have been hot for your theoretical penis for like-” oh god, down go
the briefs. Kon licks his lips and finishes on a whisper. “ever. Please, please
say I can lick that?”
Tim stills for a moment, and then steps out of his briefs. The movement makes
his cock bob, pretty in pink and … wow. Bare. Tim shaves? Kon’s brain has been
smashed into so many pieces tonight that it has to resemble a fine powder. Guh.
He watches, transfixed, as Tim takes himself in hand, stroking lightly a few
times and then touching his sack, which is. Mmm. Smooth. He’s thinking about
licking again.
“You really think you’re ready for that?” Tim asks. He approaches the couch and
crouches, resting on the balls of his feet, knees spread. He puts his hands on
Kon’s knees. “There’s no rush, Conner. Really. I can be patient. This is all
new for you. We could just...” He slides his hand up Kon’s leg, and strokes a
thumb lightly over Kon’s fly. “Touch each other. Learn each other’s bodies.
There’s no shame in taking things slow.”
Kon swallows hard. “Do you want to take it slow?”
Something dark and hot flickers through Tim’s eyes. “Whenever we start moving
forward, you pull away. I don’t want to pressure you, or make you
uncomfortable. I’ve had a long time to think about what I want.”
That causes an odd feeling of wounded pride. “I’ve been thinking about it,
too!”
The chuckle Tim lets out is low and smooth. It does things to Kon’s insides.
“I’ve been daydreaming about homosexual acts since before you were ‘born’,
Conner. As far as I know...” Tim trails off and bows his head a little. It’s an
oddly sweet gesture, considering how close he is to Kon’s lap, but the
proximity also makes it inappropriately hot. “I’m the first guy you’ve ever
shown any interest in.”
“Yeah, but, like... For a long time,” Kon protests. He reaches out, carefully,
and lets his fingers rest on Tim’s neck. “I used to think about...this spot
right here. Right at the edge of your old collar.” Tim sucks in a breath, so
Kon goes on, warming to the subject. “I’d sit behind you on the Supercycle and
kind of...stare at it. Think about teeth. About.” He swallows again. “About
biting you there, while I was...”
Tim’s head comes up. He stares at Kon, eyes dark, intense. The way Kon always
imagines them behind the mask. “Fucking me.”
And Kon opens his mouth to answer, but he never gets the chance, because Tim
surges up from his crouch and forward, naked, into Kon’s arms, pressing their
mouths together. They’ve kissed like this, mouths tangling, tongues...tongues.
But somehow this is different. Tim is different. There’s no coaxing, no
gentleness. It’s not even the teeth - they’ve done teeth - it’s something else.
Something else that might just be Tim’s cock against his stomach, hard and hot
and - Kon gets his hand between them and grasps it, gentle, at first, learning
the shape, the feel of smooth skin. The touch makes Tim thrust, hips punching,
and Kon can’t help the hand on his ass. He has to feel the muscles move under
Tim’s skin.
He feels familiar. That shouldn’t be a surprise, but in a way it kind of is,
because Kon’s been thinking about this so long, and how touching himself
couldn’t prepare him for it. And even though it makes Tim groan, makes him grip
Kon’s shoulder hard enough to bruise a normal person, Kon has to let go of
Tim’s erection and bring his hand to his mouth, breaking the kiss to lick his
fingers and try the taste, to suck the pad of his thumb because it just feels
good.
Tim gasps and brings their mouths back together, licking the back of Kon’s
thumb, biting it. His cock is wet against Kon’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail
as Tim thrusts against his abs. Kon was just thinking of doing this, and it
doesn’t seem fair, until his fingers find the heat of Tim’s cleft and the soft
- soft - skin over his balls.
Until Tim pulls back enough to kiss the back of Kon’s hand, bite his wrist, and
say, “do you want to really taste it?”
God, fuck yes. He doesn’t say it out loud, though - just gets a better grip on
Tim’s ass and boosts him up, until he’s kneeling high on the couch, legs on
either side of Kon’s. Because of the way Tim’s legs are spread, Kon has to bend
a little to bring their bodies into the right alignment, but it’s totally worth
it, because Tim grabs the couch on either side of Kon’s head and gasps in
surprise.
The gasp becomes a moan when Kon’s tongue flickers over the head, over skin
smooth and tight and slick, slightly bitter because Tim is so hot that he’s
leaking, and Kon made him this way. He learns the shape of the crown with his
tongue and lips, little sucking kisses and quick laps, slow slide of the soft
flat of his tongue as he goes down, taking a few inches into his mouth.
Tim gasps again. And then he moves. Kon has to draw back just a little, taken
by surprise by the sudden thrust. He’s not sure if Tim did it on purpose until
he hears Tim panting. “S-sorry. Oh god, that feels good.”
Kon hums and goes down again, bobbing his head, trying to keep his teeth out of
things and sucking lightly as he goes. He gets a groan for it, and another
thrust, this one much more shallow and controlled. An echoing groan rumbles in
Kon’s chest. He tries sucking a little harder, and pressing with his tongue.
This time the thrust is deeper. He’s got Tim right on the edge, then, between
just enough and not enough. If his mouth weren’t full, he’d grin. Instead, he
pulls back to lick the head again. “It’s okay,” he says. “Invulnerable,
remember. You just startled me the first time.”
“I don’t want to ch-oke you!” The last becomes a yelp as Kon goes down again,
pressing his lips tight to the shaft and sucking hard. Tim pulls himself up,
knees lifting from the cushions, his weight on his toes, arms rigid. “Oh god.”
By the second bob, Tim is moving with him, thrusting deep into his mouth. Kon
keeps his grip on Tim’s ass, stopping him from going too far, too deep, and
just goes for it, forgetting to try and be fancy with his tongue, because just
the slide against his palette - until Tim’s weight shifts, and there’s a hand
gripping Kon’s ear.
A few more thrusts - and Kon really does have to hold Tim back, now,
invulnerable or not - and suddenly Tim is pushing at him and gasping. “S-stop!
Stop, Kon!”
Kon stops. That feeling is back - the one that says he’s gone too far, too
fast, pushed Tim too hard - but when he relaxes the grip of his power enough
for Tim to move back, Tim lets out a high whine and slides down Kon’s body,
cock leaving a hot, wet line down his chest and stomach. He presses his mouth
hard to Kon’s, tongue taking over where his cock left off, fucking Kon’s mouth,
and that whine the whole time, that thrust of his hips against Kon’s body.
“Why-” Kon pants when Tim pulls away to breathe. “Why’d you make me-”
“I was going to come,” Tim pants back. “Conner, that was- You’re-” He kisses
him again, wet and good, and then he just lets gravity take him, sliding down
off the couch to the floor, his hands scrabbling at the button of Kon’s jeans,
utterly graceless and eager.
“Whoa, are you-” If Tim’s belt had sounded like quiet thunder, Kon’s is a
whipcrack when Tim yanks it free. Kon can’t help gasping for air, gasping from
the shock of it, and then his pants are open and Tim is pulling and he can
either rise up from the couch or get yanked right off.
“Off,” Tim says, only it’s more like a growl.
Kon can only nod and try to help. It takes him entirely too long to remember he
has superpowers, but once he does, he has the jeans pulled down and off in
about a second flat. “You know, you were-” He stops to gasp as Tim shoves his
knees apart. “-supposed to come, right?”
This time it’s a pull instead of a shove, Tim’s strong hands hooked around the
backs of Kon’s knees. Kon’s back sticks to the leather couch as he slips down,
legs spread because Tim is kneeling between them.
“Are you gonna-”
“Yes,” Tim interrupts. He spreads Kon’s legs wider, just...looking, apparently.
Breathing on him.
“I didn’t even say what I was-” Oh god, mouth. On his. Kon arches his back,
until he’s barely touching the couch at all anymore. Tongue on his balls and oh
fuck that’s barely even something he’d thought about, really, so maybe Tim’s
right about having had more time to plan. The squeak he lets out is pretty
undignified.
“Everything,” Tim fucking purrs against the base of his shaft. “I’m going
to...everything. Everything you’ll let me.” He sucks there, lingering, pressing
with his tongue, and then he turns his head and mouths his way up toward the
tip.
It feels amazing, and it looks just as good, Tim’s darkened eyes looking up at
him from under heavy lids, his mouth red from kissing, tongue darting out to
caress the head, soft and so, so sweet. Kon reaches up and grabs the back of
the couch in one hand, so that he won’t just shove. He slaps the other hand
over his mouth and throws his head back.
It’s stranger when he can’t see it. There are soft, wet touches, and he can’t
quite be sure what’s lips and what’s tongue and...that was teeth, just a
little. Just a touch. Kon shouts behind his hand. He shouts again when the
suction starts, and, god, so hot and wet. Teeth again, just a scrape, and
tongue and oh god, something soft against and around the head and it gives as
Tim goes down. Tim’s throat and he’s -
Kon has to look. He has to see Tim’s mouth stretched tight, his nose in Kon’s
dark curls. It’s probably the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen, and it
takes everything Kon has not to do something that would probably break Tim’s
teeth.
The couch cracks.
Kon feels the beam at the back give way under his grip, hears it - and Tim must
have heard it too, because he pulls back, up and off, coughing, and he looks at
Kon, and the expression that’s probably on Kon’s face, and he has to look past
Kon’s ridiculously eager erection to do it, and...it’s just a few seconds
before Tim starts laughing.
“Did you really just-”
“I’m sorry!” Kon wails, and smacks himself in the face. “Oh god, don’t stop.”
“You broke my couch.” And Tim’s still laughing, but there’s something else
there too, under it. He sounds proud of himself. “Well, the bedframe’s iron, at
least. If worst comes to worse you could probably bend that back into shape,
after.”
Kon stops hitting himself. “Bed?”
“Later,” Tim says. He gets a grip behind Kon’s knees again and pulls, up this
time instead of down. Kon lets himself slide, not entirely sure where this is
going but pretty sure he’s going to enjoy it. Tim’s got Kon’s legs spread wide
now, and the stretch is starting to burn just a little. It makes him wonder
what kind of freaky positions Tim can bend himself into. That’s a good thought.
Good like the touch of Tim’s mouth on his balls again, press of his nose and
soft swipe of his tongue. This feels a little safer than the cocksucking, so
Kon lets himself thread his fingers into Tim’s hair. God, that tongue. He
arches and presses against it, humping up. His cock aches from neglect, and he
reaches for it, only to get his hand caught.
“Here,” Tim says, and wraps Kon’s hand around the back of his own thigh. He
shoves. Kon takes the hint and lifts his leg - he’s not even sure why but it
feels good to have something to pull against that he can’t accidentally hurt,
so he goes with it. Goes with the teeth on his sack, just a press, a threat,
and Tim’s hand cupping his ass, thumb in his cleft, thumb pressing against his-
“Holy fuck,” Kon gasps. Okay, not where he thought this night was going but
okay. He can roll with this. He can roll his hips right up off the couch, pull
his leg up to his chest, bare and spread and shit that is Tim’s tongue, and
this is the dirtiest fucking thing Kon has ever experienced.
Tongue around the hole. Tongue in, wriggling and wet and fucking hot and Tim
makes this noise and Kon realizes he’s pulling his hair.
“S-sorry,” he gasps. “Fuck. Fuck fuck, Tim. Oh god.” Thumb working its way in,
and the tongue’s not stopping, circling, pressing, thrusting beside it, until
Kon can’t tell exactly what’s going on down there - just that it feels amazing.
“You’re gonna kill me!”
The tongue stops, and Kon whimpers, scooting down the cushions to thrust his
ass toward the missing sensation. “Not my intention,” Tim says, sounding
amused, and then there’s a thin, cool stream of air. The shock of it makes Kon
clench. The clench apparently makes Tim happy, because he hums and Kon gets a
quick, soft, press of a kiss just there. “Can you reach the lube?”
Kon’s eyes cross. “Are you gonna-”
“Everything,” Tim repeats softly, “you’ll let me.”
Fuck, yes. Kon flails, flinging his arm around on the couch, but he can’t quite
reach, and he’s really not going to move, so he extends his aura, grasping,
stretching it - there - he can just...
Knock it to the floor and curse loudly, ignoring Tim’s little laugh. “I’ve got
it,” Tim says, and Kon lets out a little sound of dismay when the tip of his
thumb slips out. He can hear Tim laughing, and he lowers his leg so that he can
twist enough to see him, but just like that, Tim is back, and shoving again at
his thigh. Kon takes the order for what it is, and gets his other leg up too,
for good measure - except Tim catches his ankle when he’s halfway there and
pulls it back and out and hooks it over his shoulder as he and his amazing,
wonderful tongue go back in for more.
The couch is already broken. Tim didn’t seem too mad about it. Tim’s rich,
anyway, so as long as Kon promises to carry the new couch home it’s barely an
inconvenience at all, right? So it’s totally okay for him to crush the wood
under the padded armrest into splinters. Tim’s tongue feels that good, and the
slick finger he’s working in - okay, there’s a little burn, he’ll admit, but
it’s so fucking hot that it doesn’t feel anything but good. Kon’s touched
himself there - mostly thinking about how Tim was right there in the next
shower over wearing nothing but a mask - but never deep like this, fucking like
this, the whole length of Tim’s finger sliding in and out, crooking and
bending, stroking him in places he’d really never connected with the concept of
stroking. How the hell had he never noticed how long Tim’s fingers are? How
slim and strong and perfect?
“I really like your fingers,” Kon babbles, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown
back. “Like, really, really like. Like maybe-in-love-with-like.” And maybe
Kon’s not just talking about the fingers, and maybe Tim’s not an idiot and
probably knows that, because he picks that moment to slide the second finger in
to the first knuckle and lick a hot stripe from Kon’s balls all the way up to
the tip of his cock.
“They like you too,” Tim says, and it should be cheesy, but Tim’s got two
hands, and when the fingers that aren’t knuckling his perineum or lovingly
violating his asshole wrap around Kon’s cock again and squeeze, Kon lets out
the kind of shout that makes the neighbors call the police if your boyfriend
hasn’t bought out the top three floors of his apartment building. “Too much?”
“No!” Kon assures him, because what if he decides to stop? “Not too much, just
fucking right, oh god - You’re gonna do me, right? Because I really think you
ought to-” he gasps as Tim gets the second finger all the way in and thrusts.
It’s weird and it’s new and it makes him wriggle. By the third little stab,
he’s decided it’s wonderful. “Do it, fuck. If your fingers feel that good-”
“You’re still so tight,” Tim protests, but he’s panting. Kon’s not even
touching him, but the shake in his voice makes him sound dangerously close to
the edge.
“Don’t you fucking come before you fuck me, you - ow-” Something - oh. Another
finger. “Ah! more lube.” He knows, objectively, that Tim can’t hurt him this
way without, like, a kryptonite dildo or something, but Tim’s fingers feel so
big.
There’s a pause, and then the cold of the lubricant in his cleft makes him
shiver. “Push back,” Tim orders as he presses in again, and Kon tries humping
back against his hand. “No, like - god that’s hot. Push. Like you’re pushing me
out.”
“I don’t want you out!” Kon protests, but Tim lets go of his cock to slap him
on the ass, so he concentrates for a moment on something other than not coming
and gives it a try. Tim’s fingers slide right in on the next good push, deep,
and with no more burn than there’d been with two. Kon’s so surprised that he
forgets to concentrate on not clenching up again.
“Oh god,” Tim mumbles. His head drops against the back of Kon’s upraised thigh,
and he waits until Kon gets his muscles under control before moving his fingers
again. “This is going to feel so, so, so-” and maybe more ‘so’s, but Kon can’t
really tell because Tim is biting Kon’s leg.
“No coming!” Kon protests. He can - he can get the hang of this. But Tim’s not
moving his hand anymore, so Kon wraps his aura around his wrist and tugs. It’s
easier than moving his whole body, and it makes Tim make noises against his
skin. A few seconds later, though, he feels Tim struggling against his aura, so
he stops and lets him go.
Tim pulls his fingers out - it feels kind of weird, and Kon feels kind of open
in a way he absolutely has never thought about before. He’s just about to
comment on it when Tim pries his mouth away from Kon’s leg and licks over his
hole with the soft flat of his tongue. It feels different, now that he’s - well
- open. Hotter and... more. The way his lips feel when Tim’s been biting them
for a while - sensitive and tender, until he can feel the texture of Tim’s
tongue, just slightly rough. It feels...intimate.
“Bleh,” Tim says. A moment later, he licks Kon’s thigh. “Remind me to buy the
kind you’re supposed to lick, next time.” Another lick - getting rid of the
taste, Kon guesses. It’s funny, somehow, that Tim’s had his tongue in Kon’s
ass, but lube on his tongue has got him making faces, and Kon can’t help
laughing. Tim stops scrubbing his tongue and looks up, smiling back. Something
swells in Kon’s chest, and it’s only got a tiny bit to do with the casual way
that Tim said ‘next time’.
Tim’s smile changes, subtly, and he pushes Kon’s leg off of his shoulder and
stands. He looks down at Kon in a way that makes Kon’s laugh falter and his
breath catch. He seems so smoothly confident, prepared, totally in control of
this partnership and one hundred percent aware of it. Kon doesn’t know how he
ever thought this could be any other way. The quirk of Tim’s lips makes him
feel young and new again, fresh out of the tube and desperate to impress.
“Rob.”
“Kon.” It’s like the thing with Tim’s fingers. There’s so much going on under
the words, things Kon’s not sure either of them are ready to say. He can feel
it, though. He can feel Tim feeling it. He brushes Tim’s bare leg with his
ankle and uses the touch to haul Tim down for a kiss.
Okay, the lube really does taste pretty awful. Like plastic and vaseline. He
keeps kissing Tim anyway, until the taste fades. Tim hums softly into his
mouth, smiling, and Kon pulls back for long enough to mumble against his lips.
“Fuck me, Tim.”
A sharp hiss of breath in response, and a sharper kiss. A moment later, Tim is
standing up again, pushing on Kon’s knees - and he knows what that means, now,
so he lifts, spreads, his hands braced in the hollows behind his knees. Tim’s
eyes dart down and he licks his lips - a simple motion that sends a shock of
fresh arousal through Kon, just from knowing how bare he is, how spread, how
much at Tim’s mercy.
The couch dips slightly when Tim braces his knees against the edge - maybe Kon
did something to the frame, too, and he just didn’t notice. He’s been
distracted, after all. He’s beyond caring now anyway, completely focused on
Tim’s fingertips spreading his cleft, on the sight of Tim gripping himself,
guiding himself, the drag of his smooth head against Kon’s slick and tender
skin. “God.” It comes out soft and shaky.
“Yeah,” Tim whispers back, and presses in, breaching him.
It’s a strange feeling. He can feel his body resisting, at first, until he
remembers the way Tim taught him to relax those muscles. Once the head is in -
god, in - it gets easier, but Kon can still feel his hands shaking. Or maybe
that’s his legs. Maybe it’s all of him. The slide of it, the cool lube and hot
skin, leave him shivering with sensory overload. Tim moves so slowly that the
press seems to go on forever. Kon is suddenly aware of how Bart must feel when
time around him starts moving like molasses.
Tim’s eyes are closed, not squeezed, but resting lightly, lashes fluttering. He
opens them with a gasp and a tiny thrust that makes Kon gasp too. He’s in all
the way. “You feel...” He shudders and falls forward, bracing himself with a
hand on the couch, beside Kon’s hip. He pulls his hips back just a few inches
and thrusts in again, slightly faster this time. Kon lets go of his own leg and
clutches wildly at the air until Tim catches his hand.
Another short thrust, and another before Tim has to let go so that he can brace
with that arm, too, gripping the back of the couch. Kon holds his wrist
instead, and wraps his leg around Tim’s waist, using it to urge him on. The way
Tim is bent over him means his stomach is dragging over Kon’s erection as he
moves, and Kon is torn. There’s so much sweet, slick friction going on that his
lizard-brain can’t decide what to focus on. His awareness flickers. Stretch and
burn as Tim thrusts in, rocking him. Glide and drag as he rocks back, picking
up speed. Kon moves with him as best he can, but his mind and body are so
shaken that he can barely hold the rhythm.
Tim doesn’t seem to mind, though. His eyes are dark and boring into Kon’s, his
mouth open, breath coming in ragged pants. “Kon,” he says, barely more than a
whisper. It sounds almost pained in its intensity.
“Me too,” Kon pants, responding to what isn’t said. His mind is so shot that he
doesn’t even realize he’s speaking nonsense. “Always. Tim.”
That’s okay, though, because Tim seems to be in the same state. “Yeah.” Tim’s
eyes close again and his head drops, forehead resting on Kon’s collarbone. “I
want to make you come.”
Kon’s fingers spasm on Tim’s wrist, but he manages not to squeeze. “You too.”
He closes his eyes and concentrates, flexing and tightening, enjoying the way
Tim gasps and pants and fucks him faster. His eyes fly open again when Tim’s
hand wraps around him, and he bucks into the touch. They find a rhythm, then,
between Tim’s thrusts and his strokes, that makes Kon writhe and toss his head
back, makes Tim moan and bite at his shoulder. Kon can feel his orgasm
building. “So good. Don’t stop.”
“Good,” Tim echos, but that seems to be all the speech he’s capable of at the
moment. He squeezes and strokes Kon with one hand, his hips moving smoothly.
His teeth dig slightly into Kon’s skin, a sharp pressure that would be pain if
Kon were more vulnerable. As it is, the sudden stimulation is just what Kon
needs, and he shudders all over, convulsing with a wordless shout. Tim makes a
strangled sound, his thrusts becoming ragged, frantic. He strokes Kon a few
more times, gentling him through it, and then drags his sticky hand up Kon’s
chest, bending his head to lick, to bite his own fingers and Kon’s skin between
them.
“Come for me,” Kon orders - no, begs. Definitely begs. He wants to feel that -
wants to hear what kind of sounds Tim makes, see if he holds his eyes open or
closed. Tim loses his rhythm completely, moving over and into Kon wildly,
moaning low.
Kon turns his head, and catches Tim’s cheek in his palm. He tugs him close
enough to kiss, and gets his lip bitten. That’s when Tim stills inside him,
shaking all over, completely silent. Tim holds his breath for several long
seconds and then lets it out in a quiet rush before kissing Kon in earnest,
hips moving shallowly, languidly, the slide so much easier now, and slicker.
“You just came inside me,” Kon says when he can speak again. It sounds stupid
once his mouth has formed the words, but that doesn’t make the feeling any less
profound.
“I did,” Tim says. There’s wonder in his voice, and Kon is glad. As long as
they both feel this way, there’s nothing stupid about it.
Kon gives in and lets the sappy smile take over his face. Slowly, Tim’s face
falls into a mirror of his own expression. “That was really good.”
“Mmhmm,” Tim agrees. He pulls out and flops onto the couch beside Kon. Kon lets
his feet fall to the floor and leans sideways until he’s laying on top of Tim,
who doesn’t seem to mind a bit.
“You were really good,” Kon clarifies. “You were...where did you learn to do
that?”
“Mmm...” Tim sounds so sleepy and content that Kon isn’t really expecting an
answer. He just closes his eyes and concentrates on the brush of Tim’s fingers
through his hair. “Books,” Tim says after a long moment. “The internet.
Practice with toys. Nightwing.”
Kon is upright before he even decided to sit up, looking down at Tim with wide
eyes. “You had sex with Nightwing!?”
Tim chuckles. “No. Calm down.” He reaches for Kon, who reluctantly lets himself
be tugged back down to lay with his head on Tim’s chest. “He gave me advice.
Lots of advice. More advice than I wanted, actually, but most of it actually
came in pretty handy.”
Such a relief. Not that it would be fair for him to get jealous about a past
lover - Tim and Cassie are perfectly good friends, after all. Still, he’s glad
not to have to compete with Nightwing. And too cool to admit that. “Heh.
'Handy'.”
Tim snorts. When Kon looks toward his face, Tim’s eyes are closed. The room is
a little cool, but Kon shifts his aura to hold their warmth in and nuzzles
against Tim’s chest. He feels happy, warm, and sated. The stress and fear are
gone. This is Tim - his best friend. He’s not sure why he was so worried to
begin with, and there isn’t anything left in him to be worried about the
future. Whatever happens, Tim will still be Tim. They’ll make it work.
The thump of Tim’s heart beneath Kon’s cheek is reassuring, and his eyes start
to drift closed. The bed would be more comfortable, but that would require too
much effort. Instead, Kon rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. He has to
tuck his legs up instead of stretching out, but what the hell. It’s actually
pretty nice and cozy.
Until the couch leg snaps and tips them onto the floor.
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