Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5592784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU, Young_Justice_-_All_Media_Types, Superboy_(Comics), Batman_-_All
      Media_Types, DCU_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Tim_Drake/Kon-El_|_Conner_Kent
  Character:
      Tim_Drake, Kon-El_|_Conner_Kent
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, Breathplay, Biting, Anal_Sex, Bottom_Kon-El_|_Conner_Kent, Top_Tim
      Drake, Praise_Kink
  Series:
      Part 1 of I_Don't_Behave,_I_Don't_Behave
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-31 Words: 2830
****** I'll Give You All A Boy Could Give You ******
by daemoninwhite
Summary
     Sometimes, Kon just need to lie back and have Tim take control.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It’s not like Kon is gay.
He isn’t! Girls are - just. Wow. Girls. They’re soft and warm and soft, even
over muscle they’re still so soft. Cassie has abs that are maybe better looking
than his are, but her skin is still so soft and smooth. Just touching her,
feeling her warmth, the give of skin under his fingers - it’s enough to make
pure want curl through him, and if he thinks about what her breasts feel like,
then. Well. He’s gotta go “think” about “things” in the barn. He’s pretty sure
that Martha, at least, knows what he means when he says that, but, well, he
hasn’t got much choice, so he tries not to think about it, just like how he
tries not to think about how he’s basically living with Clark’s cast offs.
Living on Clark’s sufferance.
It’s.
Whatever.
He’s fine, he’s dealing. It’s better than living with a telepathic alien,
anyway.
Better than living at the Tower.
Because living at the Tower means running into Robin—Rob—far more often than he
usually does. And Rob might not be telepathic, but he can come pretty damn
close to seeming like he is, some days. (Kon’s like 80/90% sure that Rob isn’t
telepathic. 70%. He can't be. Batman wouldn’t let a meta be Robin, right?
Right.)
(OK, 60%.)
Because, sometimes? Sometimes, Rob just looks at Kon—never when it’s busy,
never when Kon could feasibly beg off with the excuse that he has to do
something, anything, always when it’s been quiet for hours and Kon is buzzing
under his skin, just about ready to fly apart at the seams because it’s been so
quiet for so long and he just needs to do something anything and it feels like
his TTK is the only thing keeping him together from dying of boredom—Rob looks
Kon in the eyes (he thinks Rob does, anyway, going by the tilt of his chin and
the angle of his mask) and asks for Superboy’s help, it won’t take long, no,
Impulse, I just need him to keep a pole in place for me, it’s boring busy work,
go see if Secret wants help. And Kon knows what Rob means, but Kon still plays
along. Because when Rob guides him along—a hand on his back, a push, a joke, it
won’t take long, come on—arousal starts pooling in Kon’s gut like a Pavlovian
response.
(Yeah, so, he’s read about about famous (and infamous) experiments. How humans
train things. It’s not a thing, OK, it's just-. Whatever. Making sure. Checking
up that it can't. That it won't. He won't be programmed again, ever.)
Rob’s hand is on Kon’s back, and even through the suit, even through Rob’s
gauntlet/gloves things and whatever Bat-secret material they’re made out of,
Kon could swear that he can feel Rob’s warmth. His humanity.
Robin is human, painfully so, and that means softness and vulnerability and
breakability, but it’s hard to remember that when Rob’s locking Kon’s bedroom
door. When he’s staring Kon down, even through his mask. When he, fuck, when he
doesn’t even have the decency to whisper, he just.
States, “Do you remember your safe words?”
Because, yeah, it’s difficult to hurt Kon, just about impossible unless Rob
really, really tries, and then it winds up being the unfun type of hurt (or he
accidentally hurts Rob, which is even worse), but that doesn’t mean that Kon
can’t and doesn't panic and ruin sex that way.
(They found that one out the hard way. Kon … he doesn’t like it when Rob is
deliberately cruel to him when they’re in the middle of sex. That was. Yeah.
Bad.)
“Of course, yeah, it’s not like they’re-”
“Kon.”
Just his name. Snapped out, flat and not disappointed, disapproving, maybe.
Kon’s never claimed to not be a little brattish (there's not a little part of
his desperate for approval. There's not). “Green for go, yellow for slow down,
red for stop now.” Like your colour scheme, he wants to tease, but he does want
to get laid some time this century, which Rob isn’t exactly likely to do if
he’s all huffy, and Kon can’t really talk anyway, what with Superman’s colour
scheme, which, you know, he has tried to improve on, but there’s only so much
you can do with primary colours.
That and Kon can't sew for anything, which he is working on, but it’s slow
going and-.
“You’re wandering.”
A hand on his chin brings him back - fingertips four points of pressure, not
pain, against his jawline, and Conner shudders to a halt. Rob’s face is mostly
blank, as per usual, but the corner of his mouth twitches. It’s … not cute.
Something appropriately masculine that Kon will think of later. Rob’s hand
shifts, his thumb now presses at the center of Kon’s bottom lip, tilts his face
down.
Kon grins into their first kiss of this night. He always does (can't help it.
Doesn't want to help it. Sex should be smiles and laughs and fun for all
involved).
Rob tsks, but after so long playing together, Kon can hear the affection in it.
“Really?”
Kon outright laughs at that, and pulls Rob close into a hug. “You’d be
disappointed if I didn’t.”
Rob is tough and compact in his arms, all solid edges and sharp corners and the
tease of human warmth where the material gathers and folds and traps. His hands
are sharp points against Kon’s back.
They stand, pressed together, until Kon can’t stand it, until he squirms away.
He thinks Rob might be happy to just … cuddle for most of the night, but Kon,
he can’t. Not right now. Not when there’s so much pent up energy buzzing
through him.
“I,” he begins, but can’t end. He can’t find the words, can’t force them into
form. “I. I need.”
Rob’s thumb presses against his mouth again, Rob’s other hand curls against the
muscles of his neck until he has to tip his head back, has to gasp, has to stop
trying to speak. Rob already knows, anyway.
“Strip,” Rob says into the silence, voice a harsh whisper, not quite his Robin
Command voice, but close enough for Kon’s gut to go hot and shuddery and
liquidy. Close enough for his dick to sit up and beg.
Kon turns away. There’s no real way to make peeling off a full body spandex-ish
suit sexy, so he does it as mechanically as he can. Boots first, then belts,
then comes the fun part. He didn’t break a sweat today, which is something to
be thankful for, so he manages to sort of roll his way out of the suit. He’s
more flexible than humans - he can bend in some pretty interesting ways - and
he can feel Rob’s eyes on his back, keeping track of the limits of Kon’s
flexibility. He … maybe, OK, makes it a bit more of a show—he doesn’t
necessarily need to roll his shoulder muscles as much as he does—but in the
end, full body spandex. There’s a lot of awkward stretching and waiting. He
rolls the suit down his torso and off, forgoes sitting on the bed or crouching
in favour of bending at the waist - and yeah, that’s Rob’s breathing that picks
up.
Robin is, in very specific circumstances, entirely predictable.
(Plus, you know, buns of steel, thank you very much.)
He’s down to the genuine Spandex boxer things he wears under the suit (OK, yes,
half the reason that he wears belts is to hide panty lines) when Rob
interrupts.
“Sit down.”
Kon sits. He’s been (conditioned) encouraged to respond to that voice. If Rob
told him to jump while using that voice, he wouldn’t even stop to ask how high.
It’s deeper than usual, rasping - Batman-esque, yes, and that is something that
Kon knows that Rob is probably aware of, but just in case he isn’t, Kon is
never, ever bringing it up.
Rob strips down. While Kon had just been getting naked, Rob is definitely
stripping. There is an art to taking off Robin’s uniform, with its zappy traps
and distress beacons, so Kon just sits back and watches. It’s a lovely thing to
watch - Rob is smaller and paler than Kon, but all muscle and scars. Kon wants
to set his teeth against them, and often does - and plans to tonight. It also
lets him know where Rob’s injured, what areas to avoid. Rob’s favouring his
right side, and the bruises along his ribs are probably thanks to a lucky punch
probably from some Gotham thug.
“Fuck, Rob, why do you ever have to wear clothes around me?” Kon asks,
genuinely mournfully for a moment. It should be illegal for Robin to be clothed
when around people he wants to sex up. In Kon’s humble opinion, Rob looks far
more dangerous naked than clothed - it’s something to do with the juxtaposition
(thank you, terrible art classes) between the scars, his muscles, the set of
his body and his beautiful, soft, warm skin. Kon wants to lick him so badly
that his mouth waters, but he stays where he is like a good boy.
Rob’s mouth curls up in what people who don’t know him would call a smile, and
what people who do know him call a promise of denial and torture. Kon
preemptively groans.
“Hands behind your head.”
It’s useless to tie Kon down - unless Rob breaks out the K, Kon’ll just break
any restraints by accident - so they have to rely on other methods.
Control is everything to Rob.
Kon groans, but laces his hands behind his head obediently. It makes his arms
look ripped, so, win some, lose some. Rob slides into his lap, sits on his
stomach. Rob’s not nearly heavy enough to interfere with Kon’s breathing, but
having all that warmth, so close to his groin, even through his underwear…
Rob shifts, settles, and rakes his nails down Kon’s chest. He goes slow, starts
at Kon’s collar bones and down his pecs, across his nipples, which makes Kon’s
head tip back as he huffs out a low groan, and down to just above Kon’s belly
button. It doesn’t even raise white lines against his skin.
“Harder,” Kon whines.
(Already? So early? Rob’s smirk says.)
The next set cross each other, then one hand curves up over his shoulder
muscles while the other presses against the side of his neck, down against his
jugular. Rob rubs his thumb back and forth, pressing down harder with each pass
until Kon can feel his pulse throbbing against Rob’s thumb. The other hand dips
down, still nails first, but winds back up until Rob is leaning over him,
thumbs pressing down lightly on his jugular on either side of his neck.
“Colour?”
“Green, Rob, Rob, please, harder-”
Because Rob is smart, lovely, beautiful, wonderful, he presses down sharp and
hard. Kon’s back arches up involuntarily, his mouth falls open and he whines
because it’s so, so close-
“Pull back the TTK.”
Kon does, he can’t not do what that voice tells him to, and his skin is flooded
with Rob, he’s so hot, and his nails are brighter points of pain, but his
thumbs are digging into his neck, Kon can feel his own pulse in his throat, in
his mouth, in his ears-
“Green, Rob, babe, please, green, green-”
He cuts off with a gasp, Rob’s fingers curl against his throat, press down just
below the middle of his throat, where his not-quite-Adam’s apple is.
He pants, and Rob presses down harder, and he can’t totally pull in all the air
he needs against Rob’s hands, it feel so, so good to fight for air, the feel it
push past Rob’s hands, to feel the print of Rob’s hands on his insides,
controlling him-
Rob pulls back, slightly, brushes kisses and bites against Kon’s jawline.
“Colour?”
“Green, babe, of course it’s still green.”
“Good,” Rob - it’s not a purr, not really, but Kon can’t think of a better word
right now.
Kon’s hard enough to give that whole ‘of steel’ thing a new meaning, and he can
feel Rob’s dick pressing up against his abs.
“Lube’s still in the drawer?” he slurs hopefully, voice wrecked like he’s been
sucking cock - and fuck, that’s an image, Rob’s hands curled tight in his hair,
Rob’s dick down his throat, Rob taking what he wants. “Fuck me, babe, please,
stick your cock in me, don’t care where, just want to feel you-”
Rob kisses him, snarls, bites at his mouth until Kon opens up underneath him,
until he goes liquid and open and wanting. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, and Kon
moans, high and sharp.
Kon’s legs fall open, wide and welcoming, and Rob grinds and squirms until he’s
between them. His nails rake down Kon’s chest again, but go lower, across his
hipbones and down his inner thighs. Kon’s whole pelvis curls up, his legs curl
up against Rob’s shoulder, so he just twists and sinks his teeth into Kon’s
left thigh just as Kon yanks the TTK back up around his throat and the sudden,
sweet-hot pain makes Kon scream.
“Fuck me, babe, please, fuck me.”
Kon can feel Rob’s mouth curl up into a smirk but he just bites harder. He
licks, pulls back, presses a thumb against the bite, and hisses, "shred them."
Superboy's underwear practically vaporises.
Rob slicks up two fingers and slides them in and Kon promptly looses track of
what he is doing down there because Rob has apparently decided that biting is
the way to go, and is not pushing Kon’s legs down and wide like he usually
does, but nipping against Kon’s thighs. Delicate little nips that go sharp and
hard when Rob feels like it, big bites against the ropes of Kon’s thigh
muscles, left and right and there’s no pattern but it feels so good, the sharp
shocks of pain against the duller throb of the bigger bites, the strain in his
hips, down in his inner thighs, and then Rob’s thumb is rubbing up against the
base of his balls and Kon grunts in shock and then gives a long, low groan when
Rob closes his teeth around a muscle and just. Bites down. Slowly. Harder and
harder until Kon’s eyes roll back.
“Colour?”
“Green! Fuck me!”
Rob laughs, and runs a shaking hand over the bite. Kon feels like purring.
There’s the familiar feel of latex and cock brushing against his groin, and Kon
reaches out with his TTK, wraps around Rob's hips and pulls him inside.
“Cheating!” Rob gasps out.
Kon just grins, feels the throb of blood in the bite mark, “Not touching,” he
pants, and forces Rob’s hips to grind against him.
A hand snakes out, wraps around his throat, and Kon laughs in delight. “So, so
green, babe, sweetheart, fuck me hard.”
Rob obliges, rolls his hips against Kon in a way that makes Kon want to squirm,
hands on Kon’s throat and shoulder. Rob even feels good to Kon’s TTK, sweat and
warmth and Kon’s hips roll up freely into him.
“Feel so good,” he croons roughly, breath rasps in his throat, against Rob's
hand. Rob pants out a laugh and Kon grins, wild and delighted. It’s always
awesome to get Rob to laugh. He tightens up as much as he dares and Rob curses,
low and harsh, and shoves Kon’s thighs apart, and pounds down into him. Kon
throws his head back, moans, and Rob stiffens up and shudders, jerks. A low
note of delight hums out of Kon’s chest and he is so, so close to just wrapping
some TTK around himself and-
“There we go, my good boy,” Rob croons, a hand clamps down on Kon’s neck and
the other wraps around his cock. Two jerks and Kon is done, arches up, legs
jerk and he comes across his belly.
“So good for me,” Rob murmurs, eases Kon’s hands apart and rubs, almost
massages down his wrists and forearms. Kon grins, can feel how dopey it must
look. He reaches out - hand and legs and TTK alike - and pulls Rob down, hugs
him even as Rob murmurs about come and condoms and wet towels.
“Sssssshhh Robbie-boy, only cuddles now.”
Kon runs his hands down Rob’s back, hooks a leg over Rob’s hips, keeps him
close, calms him down. It’s so good like this - feeling Rob’s heart beat
against Kon’s own chest, (softskin warmmuscle). Rob rubs his face against Kon’s
shoulder, and the edge of his domino catches where it’s peeled a little from
his sweat.
“You could,” Rob offers, soft and careful.
Kon just grins and smooths it back down, brushes a kiss against Rob’s jaw. He
knows what he wants, what he needs, and Rob’s other identity isn’t important
right now.
(Kon isn’t gay. But he’s also not totally human, so does it even matter what he
calls it?)
End Notes
     Me: damn, there is not nearly enough porn of Tim topping Kon.
     Me, tipsy on New Year’s, having been followed by 4 pornbots within
     the last 4 days: I can fix that.
     How did this wind up being all BDSM-esque? It just kind of happened
     about 100 words in. I think it suits them? Kon feels like he has a
     short attention span, he needs someone to keep him on task, someone
     to make him pay attention. And Tim defs has a thing for control, and
     watching. This is far heavier on the BD than the SM, but I’m
     considering doing something with impact (and knife) play and these
     two.
     Apologies for how many sentences start with ‘because’, and how many
     are sentence fragments. Porn just isn’t made for proper grammar, you
     know?
     This is completely unedited. My apologies for my mistakes. I've been
     awaken for 22 hours now. Will probably come back and edit it properly
     some time.
     This is technically 90s/Young Justice comic TimKon, but my Tim
     characterisation is generally horrendous, and I have been reading a
     lot of the new 52 lately and been watching Young Justice, so it’s
     more like *throws confetti* who knows????? Not me and not DC.
     Headcanon that Kyrptonians don’t quite have human genitalia, because
     I am a filthy Homestuck and it has Changed Me. Y’all should be
     grateful that the breath play took enough out of me that I was just
     like … no … don’t drive them away … give them something normal…
     As of 5/2/16, this has been edited. If you seen any further mistakes
     (like, for example, me never removing SB's underwear and yet Robin
     fucking him somehow) please tell me in the comments.
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