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allanaFandom: Teen Titans (V3/current run)
Pairing: Superboy/Robin III (Kon/Tim)
Rating: Smutty? (NC-17, if I must)
Author's notes: Why, oh why, did I ever leave the safety--and beautiful continuity--of RPS? Dealing with comic continuity is like trying to wrestle an anaconda. In an tub of olive oil, no less.
Huge thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
evaine and rockfic for the fantastic edits, and also to this_space for looking it over and pronouncing that Kon and Tim sound like themselves.
#
Things Not Taught
Sometimes Kon thinks that growing up in an over-sized test tube has left him at a bit of a social disadvantage. Not only is he missing numerous pop-culture references, but he never, ever knows what to say. Take tonight for example: instead of getting off on the buzz of flying, he's obsessing over what he's going to say to Tim. And what the hell can he say, anyway? 'So, it turns out that I want to fuck you--still friends?' Crap. Not even Aunt Martha's too freely given advice can help him out here. Not that he's ever going to tell her about this over a slice of wholesome apple-pie and a glass of milk.
The clouds ahead glow subtly with the myriad lights of a city below them. Gotham. He fucking hates this place. The jumble of words in his head is thrust into the background by the tight feeling of dread building up within his chest.
Kon drops down through the cloud, where rain slicks his hair instantly. He pulls up, hovering in the air. Looks, and listens, sifting through the almost overwhelming noise and depression that characterises Gotham. There. He arrows south-east and finds Tim, dressed in civvies, perched on the roof of his brownstone. He doesn't hear another heartbeat in the immediate vicinity, not that that means anything; Batman probably has some ultra-cool way of masking his.
He lands, rolling down from his toes to the balls of his feet, then freezes as the parapet groans ominously and flakes of stone crumble away. His superhearing picks up the tiny pling as they hit the street below. "Jeeze, Tim. You couldn't find somewhere less rickety to brood?" Bleeds his aura through the stone, lending it strength, before letting his heels drop down. "Or somewhere drier?"
Tim gives no sign that he's even heard him. Although, little freak that he is, he probably sensed Kon from five blocks away. Kon eases himself down, sits on the rain-slick ledge and stares up into the sky. The moon's full tonight; heavy, hanging low in the sky, and intellectually--Clark would be so proud--Kon knows that it isn't in touching distance, but his fingers still itch to pluck it out of the sky and present it to Tim. Whoah. Where did that come from?
"So, um. Do you want to talk?" And that's a really stupid question. If he was Tim, he wouldn't want to talk.
"You shouldn't be here, Kon."
Kon runs his fingers through his hair and wipes his face off with the slightly less sodden hem of his t-shirt. "Yeah, I know. No metas in Gotham, but you're irresistible." He grins crookedly.
Tim turns and favours him with a death glare before going back to brooding.
"So... I... just stopped by to tell you I'm an asshole." Kon tries to resist the urge to fidget and swing his legs.
Tim's lips twitch at the corners. "Duly noted," he says dryly.
He'd probably get better conversation from the gargoyle on the next building at this point; that's not a bad idea at all, although Tim would think he'd finally cracked if he did.... And he thought he could be patient with Tim, he really did, but Tim's silences have always pushed words out of him. "Why, Tim? Why'd you just roll over and let him take it away from you?"
"He's my dad, Kon," Tim says, as though that explains everything. It probably should... if Kon had a father; instead he's got a fucked-up combination of Pa Kent, a giant test tube and Clark with the shadowy menace of Lex in the background.
Kon picks at the crumbling mortar between two bricks. "I guess that's something I don't get," he says, wishing that he'd written flash-cards or at least rehearsed this. Winging it... so not happening tonight. He clears his throat and wishes for a miracle.
"I... fuck!" It would be nice to get out a sentence, just one fucking sentence, without nerves tripping his tongue up. There's a pattering noise at street-level, and when Kon glances down he sees a half-crumbled brick under his hand. With an effort he clasps his dust-covered hands in his lap. "Um. I wanted to tell you something. I didn't think it would be this hard though." He stares up at the sky. At least it's stopped raining. "Man, why is it so hard to tell you this?"
Tim cocks his head and looks at him, shifting minutely into what Kon privately calls his "I'm listening, I care. You can tell me anything" face. Sure enough, "You know you can tell me anything, Kon," comes out of his mouth. Robin can be predictable sometimes.
It's a good thing that it's so dark in Gotham; it covers up the embarrassing whole-body-blush that Kon's got going on. "You're so going to kick my ass," he says and contemplates inching away a little.
"Tell me." And Tim's eyebrow is doing that twitching, imminent violence thing. Okaaay, moving is a good idea. Kon surreptitiously moves two inches away from him.
"I kinda like you—" Kon takes a deep breath "—but not just in a friends way," he finishes in a rush, but mercifully without a stutter. Another deep breath. "I want to kiss you, touch you... hell, fuck you...." He's absolutely flaming now and he bites his lip before he can babble out more embarrassment to fill Tim's silence.
"That... I didn't expect." Tim looks nonplussed, which is an all-new look for him, and Kon wants to die. Or at least find a nice sturdy wall to bash his head against.
"I thought you should know, since you're not going to be around and all. I just... yeah. I suck." Kon slips off the ledge and hovers in mid-air.
"So, what? You just drop this, then I don't get a say?" Tim snags his belt loop and tugs him around to face him. The look on his face is all-too-familiar; it's his patented "You're being really dumb, Kon" face, used weekly since 1998. Guaranteed not to wear thin. "I'm... this is complicated, you know." His finger slides under the waistband of Kon's jeans and starts rubbing small circles on Kon's hip.
The feel is electric and Kon glances down in time to see Tim slide in another two fingers. Tim's hand. Robin's hand.... The sudden rise in his own heartbeat is deafening and Tim's fingers feel like they're scorching through his skin. "You... want... me?" Even his voice sounds lame.
Kon's mind slows to a syrupy slo-mo, his heart booming in concert with Tim's before his thoughts accelerate wildly, tumbling and rolling over each other.
Clark's always saying, 'Think before you act, Kon,' and that's probably great advice, but right now kissing Tim is absolutely the right thing to do; he can't be reading this wrong.... Kon tangles one hand in Tim's hair, leans in and brushes his lips against Tim's.
Tim's lips are soft and rain-wet and Kon experiences a moment of sheer terror when they remain slack under his but then Tim's rolling out of his crouch—with such fluid grace that he must have a little meta in him—dumping Kon off the ledge, down to the pebbled rooftop and melding their lips together. Short, hot breaths suffuse his neck with warmth as Tim pulls back a few moments later and nestles into the crook of his neck.
Kon slides his hands down Tim's back, squeezes his ass and grinds up against him. Tim clutches at his shoulders and grinds right back, but stiffens suddenly as Kon moans quietly. "Not here." There's a furious intensity to Tim's voice. "Dad's trusting me, Kon. The roof was pushing it. This...?" he ran his thumb across his swollen lips. "Fuck. I don't even have plausible deniability now."
Kon blinks and forces himself to take a moment to process before freaking out. Okay... so that wasn't a total spaz-out, or a no; just a location thing. He moves his hands so that they're gripping Tim's ass slightly less obscenely and flies straight up, hovering above the drifting clouds once more. “Where are we going?”
Tim heaves a deep breath and Kon sees Tim emotions and Robin non-emotions flit across his face. Finally, Tim stretches up and kisses him. "Five blocks north. Find something with a flat roof, preferably no roof access."
Kon manfully resists the urge to molest Tim in mid-air, although the shift of Tim's hips under the heels of his hands as he hooks a foot around Kon's calf makes his breath catch in his throat, and he has to struggle not to squeeze and fondle Tim and leave bruises everywhere. Even more of a hazard to flight is Tim cheating; mouthing at the side of his neck and taking small, considered bites that shatter his control and make him shudder and grind against Tim's crotch. It's not the most elegant piece of flying ever, but it gets them a roof, and maybe a little privacy. Although that's dubious in Gotham, to say the least.
"You know that Oracle can see us, right?" Tim says as Kon hits the roof with a lurch. Unspoken is the implication that Batman is watching, too, which is just fucking creepy. Oracle is bad enough. Tim's fingers are pressing into his back, kneading the muscles through his sodden T-shirt as though he's fucking starved of touch. Kon walks them back into the deep shadow of the roof access door that juts out of the slippery asphalt, beckoning a welcome. It's not exactly what Tim asked for, but it's plenty good enough to hide them from a casual observer.
Out of uniform or not, Tim clearly has no scruples about sweeping Kon's legs out from underneath him. Kon goes down willingly and groans as Tim lands squarely on his crotch.
Kon drops his head back and gasps for air. "Want to taste you," he manages and slides his hand down between them to cup and squeeze Tim's balls. Tim makes a small choking noise at the back of his throat and thrusts into Kon's hand.
“Oh fuck, Kon....”
Kon cradles the back of Tim's head and uses his TTK to flip them over. His aura runs freely over Tim, pushing up his stupid shirt, skimming over his nipples. Tim pushes up into the sensation and Kon sucks in a breath before following with his fingers. Tim's really, really scarred. He scoots down and licks along a large, almost plastic feeling gash by Tim's belly button as he drags Tim's chinos and shorts down past his knees.
He buries his face in Tim's crotch and just breathes him in. Tim's hips press upwards eagerly, and he can take a hint. He pushes Tim's hips back with with his aura, and licks along the length of Tim's cock and Tim trembles. Oh fuck. Kon laps around the head of Tim's cock with slow probing motions of his tongue and Tim tastes... he doesn't have words for the taste, but he wants more. He slides his hands underneath Tim and cups his ass, pulling him up to his mouth.
The slide of Tim's cock in and out—and he never, ever thought he'd get to do this—and the stretch, burn and tingle of his lips. It's all overwhelming. He'd wanted to taste Tim for months now, but that was mainly because blowjobs were good—a couple of years with the babes in Hawaii taught him that much—but he'd had no idea that it'd feel this good. Way weird, but good.
The head of Tim's cock nudges against the back of his throat, and that's a little too much. He pulls off, drags in a deep breath and looks up at Tim, who's looking down at him with a dazed look on his face.
Tim says, "Kon,” like he's something special and that damn blush is back. He ducks his head and goes down on Tim again, flicking his eyes up a few minutes later to watch him. Watching Tim watch him is hot and Kon humps against the gritty rooftop. Before he closes his eyes and goes for it—and he really wants to make Tim come like this—he sees Tim catch his lower lip between his teeth and tip his head back. His hips jerk up hard into Kon's mouth and Kon groans around Tim's cock and flexes his fingers on Tim's ass and god knows how Tim's going to explain away those bruises. And he doesn't care.
And he wants to make Tim let go and fuck his mouth. Let go.... Oh. He drops his aura and Tim's hips surge up until wiry hair tickles his nose and Tim's fingers flex and dig into his scalp with just the right amount of pain... and then Tim's come is flooding his mouth. He gags slightly but swallows most of it. His head's buzzing and he wants... he wants so fucking much.
He pulls off with a last soft lick, rests his forehead on Tim's thigh and tries to catch his breath. Wow. There are even more scars here, he notes absently and thinks about licking one.
Tim disentangles his fingers and pulls himself upright against the door. He tugs urgently at Kon's shoulder. “Come here.”
Kon crawls up and straddles Tim's hips; every movement tugs at his jeans and reminds him of just how hard he is. He swipes away stray strands of come from his cheek with his fingers and leans in to kiss Tim. Tim seems to have other ideas and grabs his hand. Kon watches wide-eyed and moans as Tim, eyes closed in concentration, licks his own come from Kon's fingers. Heat and suction swirl around his fingertips and he didn't think he could get any harder, but he is. Tim sucks Kon's fingers into his mouth and Kon's hips jerk helplessly against him. “Oh, hell....”
Tim smirks and licks the last remnants of come from his chin with deliberate, teasing motions of his tongue then licks his way into Kon's mouth. All Kon can do is grab onto Tim's shoulders and groan into his mouth as Tim maps his mouth, licking his teeth, his tongue, sucking on his tongue. The buzz in his head is so strong now, rivalled only by the almost painful ache of his cock.
The rasp of his zipper coming down is the best thing Kon's heard all day, and Tim fondling his cock through his boxers is absolutely the best thing he's felt. He bucks his hips up helpfully and Tim takes full advantage of this to pull his jeans and boxers out of the way. He's so hard... too hard, maybe, and the first feel of Tim's hands on him is almost enough to get him off. “Wait.” He clamps his hand over Tim's, tips his head back and just pants. Too good.
Fuck, he loves Tim's hands, though. Really loves them. Despite weeks of forced inactivity, his hands are still fucking covered in calluses. Kon has no idea how anyone could shake hands with Tim and not know that he was something... someone special. Fuck, they should know just by looking at him, anyway.
He fucking burns with intensity.
He's also a helluva cheat; he pushes up Kon's soaking 'S'-shirt and scrapes a stubby fingernail over his nipple. Between Tim's hands and the cold air, he's whimpering desperately and letting his hand fall open, fingertips dragging on the asphalt. When he can open his eyes again he's looking down at his cock fucking Tim's fist, hips on total autopilot—some things are innate, thank god—feeling the drag and burn of every single one of Tim's calluses. Tim slides his mouth along Kon's jaw and alternates between sucking at his tongue and just plain fucking his mouth with his tongue. The roar of blood in his ears blots out Gotham's noise, narrowing Kon's world to Tim's hands and mouth.
He breaks out of the kiss and wheezes for air as he rests his head on Tim's shoulder. Tim slides his hand along Kon's cheek and pushes his thumb into Kon's mouth. Kon sucks gratefully at it; he knows this is going to be loud. It still doesn't stop him from yelling when Tim flicks his thumb over the head of his cock. Colour flares in his vision and now he's got his eyes screwed shut. He can almost control the heat vision but almost isn't a certainty right now, not with Tim's mouth doing that and his fingers pressing there. And fuck....
His thighs tremble and Tim eases him down onto his side, strokes his cheek and whispers to him—So fucking hot, Kon. So beautiful—until he can open his eyes again, then in full view of his half-lidded eyes, Tim licks his hand clean and gives him a lazy smile before slithering down beside him. He leans in and Kon can taste them both when Tim kisses him which would be mind-blowing if his brain wasn't pretty much fried already.
Tim shifts restlessly in the loose cradle of Kon's arms. It dawns on Kon that lying half-naked on a wet rooftop is pretty uncomfortable, even with an awesome afterglow going on. He tugs Tim on top of him and levitates a few inches off the ground. He strongly suspects that Tim's clothes are wrecked and a satisfied smirk creeps across his lips. It's a petty thing, but Tim should be wearing slippery synth-fabrics that the military would kill to even know about, not this preppy crap.
He runs his fingers through Tim's hair and rubs small circles at the nape of his neck, and that's weird too: no gel. Tim's body tenses and when he looks down he sees Tim slowly retreating behind a mask again. It's not his Robin face, it's something new and scarier.
"I know what you're thinking," he says softly. Tim arches an eyebrow.
“You're thinking that you can still get out of this, convince me that this—" he skims a hand down Tim's hip, brushing away stubborn bits of grit, “—is a bad idea. And you can totally try. But if you don't have the team, and you don't have—” he flaps his hand vaguely, unwilling to say 'Robin', out loud at least, “—then you totally need something good in your life, man, and that's me.”
Anger flits across Tim's face before he efficiently represses that too. Kon gives up trying to swallow past the huge lump in his throat and stares up at the moon instead. He lifts his hand and pinches his thumb and forefinger together around the distant outline wondering just how hard it would be to move it.
Tim's fingers skating down the curve of his shoulder is unexpected. Even more so are the soft words that Kon wouldn't have heard without his powers.
“You're right.”
#
Pairing: Superboy/Robin III (Kon/Tim)
Rating: Smutty? (NC-17, if I must)
Author's notes: Why, oh why, did I ever leave the safety--and beautiful continuity--of RPS? Dealing with comic continuity is like trying to wrestle an anaconda. In an tub of olive oil, no less.
Huge thanks to
evaine and rockfic for the fantastic edits, and also to this_space for looking it over and pronouncing that Kon and Tim sound like themselves.Sometimes Kon thinks that growing up in an over-sized test tube has left him at a bit of a social disadvantage. Not only is he missing numerous pop-culture references, but he never, ever knows what to say. Take tonight for example: instead of getting off on the buzz of flying, he's obsessing over what he's going to say to Tim. And what the hell can he say, anyway? 'So, it turns out that I want to fuck you--still friends?' Crap. Not even Aunt Martha's too freely given advice can help him out here. Not that he's ever going to tell her about this over a slice of wholesome apple-pie and a glass of milk.
The clouds ahead glow subtly with the myriad lights of a city below them. Gotham. He fucking hates this place. The jumble of words in his head is thrust into the background by the tight feeling of dread building up within his chest.
Kon drops down through the cloud, where rain slicks his hair instantly. He pulls up, hovering in the air. Looks, and listens, sifting through the almost overwhelming noise and depression that characterises Gotham. There. He arrows south-east and finds Tim, dressed in civvies, perched on the roof of his brownstone. He doesn't hear another heartbeat in the immediate vicinity, not that that means anything; Batman probably has some ultra-cool way of masking his.
He lands, rolling down from his toes to the balls of his feet, then freezes as the parapet groans ominously and flakes of stone crumble away. His superhearing picks up the tiny pling as they hit the street below. "Jeeze, Tim. You couldn't find somewhere less rickety to brood?" Bleeds his aura through the stone, lending it strength, before letting his heels drop down. "Or somewhere drier?"
Tim gives no sign that he's even heard him. Although, little freak that he is, he probably sensed Kon from five blocks away. Kon eases himself down, sits on the rain-slick ledge and stares up into the sky. The moon's full tonight; heavy, hanging low in the sky, and intellectually--Clark would be so proud--Kon knows that it isn't in touching distance, but his fingers still itch to pluck it out of the sky and present it to Tim. Whoah. Where did that come from?
"So, um. Do you want to talk?" And that's a really stupid question. If he was Tim, he wouldn't want to talk.
"You shouldn't be here, Kon."
Kon runs his fingers through his hair and wipes his face off with the slightly less sodden hem of his t-shirt. "Yeah, I know. No metas in Gotham, but you're irresistible." He grins crookedly.
Tim turns and favours him with a death glare before going back to brooding.
"So... I... just stopped by to tell you I'm an asshole." Kon tries to resist the urge to fidget and swing his legs.
Tim's lips twitch at the corners. "Duly noted," he says dryly.
He'd probably get better conversation from the gargoyle on the next building at this point; that's not a bad idea at all, although Tim would think he'd finally cracked if he did.... And he thought he could be patient with Tim, he really did, but Tim's silences have always pushed words out of him. "Why, Tim? Why'd you just roll over and let him take it away from you?"
"He's my dad, Kon," Tim says, as though that explains everything. It probably should... if Kon had a father; instead he's got a fucked-up combination of Pa Kent, a giant test tube and Clark with the shadowy menace of Lex in the background.
Kon picks at the crumbling mortar between two bricks. "I guess that's something I don't get," he says, wishing that he'd written flash-cards or at least rehearsed this. Winging it... so not happening tonight. He clears his throat and wishes for a miracle.
"I... fuck!" It would be nice to get out a sentence, just one fucking sentence, without nerves tripping his tongue up. There's a pattering noise at street-level, and when Kon glances down he sees a half-crumbled brick under his hand. With an effort he clasps his dust-covered hands in his lap. "Um. I wanted to tell you something. I didn't think it would be this hard though." He stares up at the sky. At least it's stopped raining. "Man, why is it so hard to tell you this?"
Tim cocks his head and looks at him, shifting minutely into what Kon privately calls his "I'm listening, I care. You can tell me anything" face. Sure enough, "You know you can tell me anything, Kon," comes out of his mouth. Robin can be predictable sometimes.
It's a good thing that it's so dark in Gotham; it covers up the embarrassing whole-body-blush that Kon's got going on. "You're so going to kick my ass," he says and contemplates inching away a little.
"Tell me." And Tim's eyebrow is doing that twitching, imminent violence thing. Okaaay, moving is a good idea. Kon surreptitiously moves two inches away from him.
"I kinda like you—" Kon takes a deep breath "—but not just in a friends way," he finishes in a rush, but mercifully without a stutter. Another deep breath. "I want to kiss you, touch you... hell, fuck you...." He's absolutely flaming now and he bites his lip before he can babble out more embarrassment to fill Tim's silence.
"That... I didn't expect." Tim looks nonplussed, which is an all-new look for him, and Kon wants to die. Or at least find a nice sturdy wall to bash his head against.
"I thought you should know, since you're not going to be around and all. I just... yeah. I suck." Kon slips off the ledge and hovers in mid-air.
"So, what? You just drop this, then I don't get a say?" Tim snags his belt loop and tugs him around to face him. The look on his face is all-too-familiar; it's his patented "You're being really dumb, Kon" face, used weekly since 1998. Guaranteed not to wear thin. "I'm... this is complicated, you know." His finger slides under the waistband of Kon's jeans and starts rubbing small circles on Kon's hip.
The feel is electric and Kon glances down in time to see Tim slide in another two fingers. Tim's hand. Robin's hand.... The sudden rise in his own heartbeat is deafening and Tim's fingers feel like they're scorching through his skin. "You... want... me?" Even his voice sounds lame.
Kon's mind slows to a syrupy slo-mo, his heart booming in concert with Tim's before his thoughts accelerate wildly, tumbling and rolling over each other.
Clark's always saying, 'Think before you act, Kon,' and that's probably great advice, but right now kissing Tim is absolutely the right thing to do; he can't be reading this wrong.... Kon tangles one hand in Tim's hair, leans in and brushes his lips against Tim's.
Tim's lips are soft and rain-wet and Kon experiences a moment of sheer terror when they remain slack under his but then Tim's rolling out of his crouch—with such fluid grace that he must have a little meta in him—dumping Kon off the ledge, down to the pebbled rooftop and melding their lips together. Short, hot breaths suffuse his neck with warmth as Tim pulls back a few moments later and nestles into the crook of his neck.
Kon slides his hands down Tim's back, squeezes his ass and grinds up against him. Tim clutches at his shoulders and grinds right back, but stiffens suddenly as Kon moans quietly. "Not here." There's a furious intensity to Tim's voice. "Dad's trusting me, Kon. The roof was pushing it. This...?" he ran his thumb across his swollen lips. "Fuck. I don't even have plausible deniability now."
Kon blinks and forces himself to take a moment to process before freaking out. Okay... so that wasn't a total spaz-out, or a no; just a location thing. He moves his hands so that they're gripping Tim's ass slightly less obscenely and flies straight up, hovering above the drifting clouds once more. “Where are we going?”
Tim heaves a deep breath and Kon sees Tim emotions and Robin non-emotions flit across his face. Finally, Tim stretches up and kisses him. "Five blocks north. Find something with a flat roof, preferably no roof access."
Kon manfully resists the urge to molest Tim in mid-air, although the shift of Tim's hips under the heels of his hands as he hooks a foot around Kon's calf makes his breath catch in his throat, and he has to struggle not to squeeze and fondle Tim and leave bruises everywhere. Even more of a hazard to flight is Tim cheating; mouthing at the side of his neck and taking small, considered bites that shatter his control and make him shudder and grind against Tim's crotch. It's not the most elegant piece of flying ever, but it gets them a roof, and maybe a little privacy. Although that's dubious in Gotham, to say the least.
"You know that Oracle can see us, right?" Tim says as Kon hits the roof with a lurch. Unspoken is the implication that Batman is watching, too, which is just fucking creepy. Oracle is bad enough. Tim's fingers are pressing into his back, kneading the muscles through his sodden T-shirt as though he's fucking starved of touch. Kon walks them back into the deep shadow of the roof access door that juts out of the slippery asphalt, beckoning a welcome. It's not exactly what Tim asked for, but it's plenty good enough to hide them from a casual observer.
Out of uniform or not, Tim clearly has no scruples about sweeping Kon's legs out from underneath him. Kon goes down willingly and groans as Tim lands squarely on his crotch.
Kon drops his head back and gasps for air. "Want to taste you," he manages and slides his hand down between them to cup and squeeze Tim's balls. Tim makes a small choking noise at the back of his throat and thrusts into Kon's hand.
“Oh fuck, Kon....”
Kon cradles the back of Tim's head and uses his TTK to flip them over. His aura runs freely over Tim, pushing up his stupid shirt, skimming over his nipples. Tim pushes up into the sensation and Kon sucks in a breath before following with his fingers. Tim's really, really scarred. He scoots down and licks along a large, almost plastic feeling gash by Tim's belly button as he drags Tim's chinos and shorts down past his knees.
He buries his face in Tim's crotch and just breathes him in. Tim's hips press upwards eagerly, and he can take a hint. He pushes Tim's hips back with with his aura, and licks along the length of Tim's cock and Tim trembles. Oh fuck. Kon laps around the head of Tim's cock with slow probing motions of his tongue and Tim tastes... he doesn't have words for the taste, but he wants more. He slides his hands underneath Tim and cups his ass, pulling him up to his mouth.
The slide of Tim's cock in and out—and he never, ever thought he'd get to do this—and the stretch, burn and tingle of his lips. It's all overwhelming. He'd wanted to taste Tim for months now, but that was mainly because blowjobs were good—a couple of years with the babes in Hawaii taught him that much—but he'd had no idea that it'd feel this good. Way weird, but good.
The head of Tim's cock nudges against the back of his throat, and that's a little too much. He pulls off, drags in a deep breath and looks up at Tim, who's looking down at him with a dazed look on his face.
Tim says, "Kon,” like he's something special and that damn blush is back. He ducks his head and goes down on Tim again, flicking his eyes up a few minutes later to watch him. Watching Tim watch him is hot and Kon humps against the gritty rooftop. Before he closes his eyes and goes for it—and he really wants to make Tim come like this—he sees Tim catch his lower lip between his teeth and tip his head back. His hips jerk up hard into Kon's mouth and Kon groans around Tim's cock and flexes his fingers on Tim's ass and god knows how Tim's going to explain away those bruises. And he doesn't care.
And he wants to make Tim let go and fuck his mouth. Let go.... Oh. He drops his aura and Tim's hips surge up until wiry hair tickles his nose and Tim's fingers flex and dig into his scalp with just the right amount of pain... and then Tim's come is flooding his mouth. He gags slightly but swallows most of it. His head's buzzing and he wants... he wants so fucking much.
He pulls off with a last soft lick, rests his forehead on Tim's thigh and tries to catch his breath. Wow. There are even more scars here, he notes absently and thinks about licking one.
Tim disentangles his fingers and pulls himself upright against the door. He tugs urgently at Kon's shoulder. “Come here.”
Kon crawls up and straddles Tim's hips; every movement tugs at his jeans and reminds him of just how hard he is. He swipes away stray strands of come from his cheek with his fingers and leans in to kiss Tim. Tim seems to have other ideas and grabs his hand. Kon watches wide-eyed and moans as Tim, eyes closed in concentration, licks his own come from Kon's fingers. Heat and suction swirl around his fingertips and he didn't think he could get any harder, but he is. Tim sucks Kon's fingers into his mouth and Kon's hips jerk helplessly against him. “Oh, hell....”
Tim smirks and licks the last remnants of come from his chin with deliberate, teasing motions of his tongue then licks his way into Kon's mouth. All Kon can do is grab onto Tim's shoulders and groan into his mouth as Tim maps his mouth, licking his teeth, his tongue, sucking on his tongue. The buzz in his head is so strong now, rivalled only by the almost painful ache of his cock.
The rasp of his zipper coming down is the best thing Kon's heard all day, and Tim fondling his cock through his boxers is absolutely the best thing he's felt. He bucks his hips up helpfully and Tim takes full advantage of this to pull his jeans and boxers out of the way. He's so hard... too hard, maybe, and the first feel of Tim's hands on him is almost enough to get him off. “Wait.” He clamps his hand over Tim's, tips his head back and just pants. Too good.
Fuck, he loves Tim's hands, though. Really loves them. Despite weeks of forced inactivity, his hands are still fucking covered in calluses. Kon has no idea how anyone could shake hands with Tim and not know that he was something... someone special. Fuck, they should know just by looking at him, anyway.
He fucking burns with intensity.
He's also a helluva cheat; he pushes up Kon's soaking 'S'-shirt and scrapes a stubby fingernail over his nipple. Between Tim's hands and the cold air, he's whimpering desperately and letting his hand fall open, fingertips dragging on the asphalt. When he can open his eyes again he's looking down at his cock fucking Tim's fist, hips on total autopilot—some things are innate, thank god—feeling the drag and burn of every single one of Tim's calluses. Tim slides his mouth along Kon's jaw and alternates between sucking at his tongue and just plain fucking his mouth with his tongue. The roar of blood in his ears blots out Gotham's noise, narrowing Kon's world to Tim's hands and mouth.
He breaks out of the kiss and wheezes for air as he rests his head on Tim's shoulder. Tim slides his hand along Kon's cheek and pushes his thumb into Kon's mouth. Kon sucks gratefully at it; he knows this is going to be loud. It still doesn't stop him from yelling when Tim flicks his thumb over the head of his cock. Colour flares in his vision and now he's got his eyes screwed shut. He can almost control the heat vision but almost isn't a certainty right now, not with Tim's mouth doing that and his fingers pressing there. And fuck....
His thighs tremble and Tim eases him down onto his side, strokes his cheek and whispers to him—So fucking hot, Kon. So beautiful—until he can open his eyes again, then in full view of his half-lidded eyes, Tim licks his hand clean and gives him a lazy smile before slithering down beside him. He leans in and Kon can taste them both when Tim kisses him which would be mind-blowing if his brain wasn't pretty much fried already.
Tim shifts restlessly in the loose cradle of Kon's arms. It dawns on Kon that lying half-naked on a wet rooftop is pretty uncomfortable, even with an awesome afterglow going on. He tugs Tim on top of him and levitates a few inches off the ground. He strongly suspects that Tim's clothes are wrecked and a satisfied smirk creeps across his lips. It's a petty thing, but Tim should be wearing slippery synth-fabrics that the military would kill to even know about, not this preppy crap.
He runs his fingers through Tim's hair and rubs small circles at the nape of his neck, and that's weird too: no gel. Tim's body tenses and when he looks down he sees Tim slowly retreating behind a mask again. It's not his Robin face, it's something new and scarier.
"I know what you're thinking," he says softly. Tim arches an eyebrow.
“You're thinking that you can still get out of this, convince me that this—" he skims a hand down Tim's hip, brushing away stubborn bits of grit, “—is a bad idea. And you can totally try. But if you don't have the team, and you don't have—” he flaps his hand vaguely, unwilling to say 'Robin', out loud at least, “—then you totally need something good in your life, man, and that's me.”
Anger flits across Tim's face before he efficiently represses that too. Kon gives up trying to swallow past the huge lump in his throat and stares up at the moon instead. He lifts his hand and pinches his thumb and forefinger together around the distant outline wondering just how hard it would be to move it.
Tim's fingers skating down the curve of his shoulder is unexpected. Even more so are the soft words that Kon wouldn't have heard without his powers.
“You're right.”
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Date: 2006-01-04 03:45 pm (UTC)I love these two losing themselves in the discovery of each other on a rainy night in Gotham. Thank you for allowing me to edit it.
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Date: 2006-01-04 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-04 06:51 pm (UTC)You have a lovely grasp of detail and an *awesome* Kon voice. I want to write you a paragraph or more of praise, but I don't have time, so I wanted to tell you that, at least.
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Date: 2006-01-04 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-04 08:23 pm (UTC)I especially love the almost tangible sense of desperation in the air between the two of them, especially when they are kissing. In some ways, it's almost better than the blowjob (which, by the way, was awesome and worthy of the work you put into writing it)!
Um. More, please?
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Date: 2006-01-04 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-04 09:24 pm (UTC)Thank-you for stepping up to the plate and editing this--despite the icky tense--and having been out of comics for years. I'm still feeling very smug about seducing you into unearthing your old long boxes :D I'm also smug about breaking your mind so much with that sentence. I love it too!
*hugs tight*
Huh. Not bad for a broken brain, eh?
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Date: 2006-01-04 09:35 pm (UTC)This is my first attempt at anything in the DCU, so I'm really stoked to hear that I got Kon right. *bounce* And don't worry about a paragraph at all; this already made my day!
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Date: 2006-01-04 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-04 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-04 11:58 pm (UTC)I'm pleased that you picked up on the desperation; I wanted to try and layer that and a bit of fear through it. Also, thank-you for putting up with me bombarding you with blowjob snippets this week!!
As for more? Probably... I just need a bunny!
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Date: 2006-01-04 11:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 02:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 02:42 am (UTC)Anyway, I liked this. Er. I'm not the greatest with reviews. I like that image of Kon 'pinching' the moon at the end, though; it felt very real, if that makes any sense.
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Date: 2006-01-05 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 01:08 am (UTC)I'm very pleased that you liked this. (You do an amazing Kon, yourself, you know. I keep meaning to drop you a review.) The moon at the end was one of my better thoughts; it brought the whole story full-circle, really.
Thank-you!
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Date: 2006-01-06 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 06:44 am (UTC)*blush*
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Date: 2006-01-10 09:28 am (UTC)*flails madly for a bit*
Holy CRAP, that was good! And it was your first DC?
Yowza!
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Date: 2006-01-17 01:02 pm (UTC)Thank-you for your kind words! I'm sure that I'll be writing more in the DCU--they make it so easy to slash them, how can I resist?--just need to find a nice juicy plot first :D
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Date: 2006-01-17 01:03 pm (UTC)It was indeed my first DC! I'm thrilled that everyone has liked it so far! Thank-you very much for the review!!
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Date: 2006-01-17 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 11:38 pm (UTC)You do passion so well, Ang. I'm going out on a limb to say this, but I found this so hot that it, um, [whispers] well, you know. No, no, um-- Not that, actually. Just, um, you know, a turn on...? Ack. [head drops down onto his chest] It was hot. Very. My cheeks were warm. My brain melted for a bit. There were so many lines and images I loved ["lines" and "images" because it wasn't just the idea of the image that worked on me, but the language you use] [like I said, you do passion very, very well]. Here are some:
"...his fingers still itch to pluck it out of the sky and present it to Tim." [I also like how, at the end, he still wants to give Tim the moon] [it adds this wonderful vulnerability to Kon]
"...and Tim tastes... he doesn't have words for the taste, but he wants more."
"Tim says, "Kon," like he's something special and that damn blush is back." [and Rick's lil'heart is going boom boom boom]
"...he wants so fucking much."
"Tim smirks and licks the last remnants of come from his chin with deliberate, teasing motions of his tongue and licks his way into Kon's mouth." [I agree with everything Ev said about this] [gooey puddle]
"...tips his head back and just pants." [wow] [adjusts shirt collar]
"He fucking burns with intensity." [it comes through too]
Thank you so much for the rec. I sincerely apologize for having missed it the first time around.
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Date: 2006-04-12 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 01:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-08 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-05 05:56 am (UTC)