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Tim breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself. Kon is wrapped around him from head to toe, his heavy body radiating heat like an electric blanket.
“Conner.” There’s no response. Tim focuses on the thin line of light coming in from behind the messily pulled curtains on the other side of the room. It’s getting close to daybreak if Tim’s internal clock is any indication, and that means he’s only managed to sleep about three hours.
“Kon,” he tries again, biting his lip as he tries to wriggle out from under his friend. When Tim had offered him a place to bunk down for the night he hadn’t exactly been expecting this. It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed, of course. It’s not even the first time they’ve shared a bed this small, it’s just that—
Kon’s tactile telekinesis, which had been gently stroking over his body and teasing goose-bumps up on his skin, clamps down on him as soon as he moves. It’s like suddenly being touched on every inch of his body at the same time and Tim barely holds back a whimper at the sensory overload. It’s like a bad joke, so infuriatingly close to all of the things he’s always wanted, all of the things that he’s barely thought about since Kon reappeared. Since he sent himself on this lonely journey to find Bruce.
The invisible touch retreats a little as he relaxes, until it’s only a firm pressure around his ankles, an insistent touch against his throat. Kon’s arm, slung over his side, is enough to keep the arm he’s not actually lying on pinned down. He can’t move. Not without waking Kon up.
He doesn’t want to wake Kon up.
Shifting experimentally only causes the invisible force to react, pushing against his throat enough to tilt his head back. Enough to make him have to work for the next inhalation of air.
He has to bite back a moan.
He has to—he needs to get away, and it would be funny if he wasn’t so turned on. Getting harder by the minute.
He should’ve just fallen back asleep. Ignored the tingling in his trapped arm and the caressing, invisible fingers on his skin, and let the warmth of the bed pull him back under. The ache would’ve eventually gone away, faded into nothing more than potentially interesting dreams, but he’s past that point now. So far past it, in fact, that if he doesn’t take care of it soon he’s going to be too uncomfortable to fall back asleep at all.
He’s trying to figure out what to do, how he can possibly get out of this situation with minimal embarrassment, when Kon’s breathing sharpens, stuttering into wakefulness.
Tim closes his eyes, evens out his own breathing, and hopes.
After a moment Kon seems to realize where he is and the ttk jerks back hard, as does the arm slung over Tim’s chest. The cheap mattress shifts beneath them as Kon moves, propping himself up.
Tim doesn’t allow his breathing to change.
“Dude,” Kon says, voice low and sleepy, “I know you’re awake.”
Tim sighs. “I hate you.” It comes out a little more vehemently than he expected. He opens his eyes, and doesn’t turn over. “Your super powers, too. Hate them.”
He can almost see the frown unfolding on Kon’s face, turning his mouth and furrowing his brow. “Why—What did I do?”
“You were molesting me in my sleep, you bastard.”
Kon just laughs. “It’s a small bed, man. The fact that we’re touching does not actually mean that I was groping you.” His voice is teasing, and it makes Tim want to roll over, just to punch him in the face. He doesn’t.
“No, the fact that you were groping me with your telekinesis means that you were groping me.”
“Tactile telekinesis,” Kon says crossly, like he always does, and then, “Wait, what?”
This time Tim does roll over. Interestingly enough, Kon doesn’t keep his eyes exactly on his face. Not that you can see much under the thick, rough blanket—oh. Not with entirely human eyes, at least. Tim scowls. “I know you must be lonely. It must be hard to suddenly find yourself single, but I know you remember what the word ‘grope’ means.”
Kon’s mouth hardens like he wants to say something biting, defensive against the fact that Tim brought up Cassie and her need to ‘find herself’, and Tim is hoping for it. Wants them to have a little fight and just go back to sleep so they can pretend none of this ever happened, but Kon just says, “Uh, I mean, what was I doing?”
“You—what?” Tim stumbles over the words, because he can’t exactly place the look on Kon’s face. It’s not one he’s seen before. It’s intense, focused in a way that Kon usually isn’t, and Tim just stares up at him, feeling his face heat up.
“Tell me,” Kon says. He places his hand flat against Tim’s chest, a spot of heat against his cool skin, and Tim shivers. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you needed to sneak out of the bed.”
There are any number of reasons why this is a bad idea, and Tim’s brain is helpfully offering up several even as the hand petting down his chest makes him just close his eyes and feel.
“It felt like a touch,” he says, because even though it makes him feel terribly self-conscious, it seems to be what Kon wants. “Like hands, but more than that, all over my body. Holding me down when I tried to move.” He arches his head back, exposing his neck, and lets his hand move up his chest to cover his throat, pressing down.
“Holding me still, like this.”
When he opens his eyes again Kon is staring at him, mouth open a little. His eyes look dark, swallowed by black in the grey light of the room, and Tim can’t do anything but stare back.
“Kon…”
“I want to touch you.”
Tim laughs and it feels good, like something tense and twisted is loosening in his chest. “You’re already touching me. You’ve already touched me a great deal.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t awake for that,” Kon replies, grinning a little. He slides his hand down until it’s almost where Tim needs it, and it makes him tense and tremble. “It’s not fair. I want to see it this time.”
And there’s really only one thing he can say to that, and it’s out of his mouth without a thought. “Please.”
“I want to see what I do to you.” Kon’s hand doesn’t move, but god, it could.
“Please,” Tim says again, barely aware that he’s begging. A little annoyed that Kon’s hand low on his stomach is all it takes to make him beg, and then that thought is gone. Obliterated by the feeling of Kon’s hand pushing his boxers away and wrapping around his cock. “God.”
“You’re so hard,” Kon says, and he sounds wondering, like it’s a shock.
Yes. “It was starting to hurt,” Tim says, gasping as Kon’s hand begins to move.
“I’m sorry. I think. Okay, not really, just… let me do this for you. Let me…”
“You…” Tim wants to laugh, some kind of hysteria bubbling under his skin, but he can’t do anything but spread his legs and arch into how good it feels. “You can do whatever you want, just as long as you don’t stop touching me.”
Because it’s ridiculous. That they’re doing this, that he can have this, that he can be touched and touch in return, and oh. That’s an excellent idea.
He reaches up and wraps his hand around Kon’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss that holds no hesitation, just hunger. Kon kisses him like he wishes he thought of it first, eagerly pushing his tongue into Tim’s mouth. Tim moans, the sound obscenely muffled, and twists his hips up to push himself into Kon’s hand.
Kon pulls himself out of the kiss and Tim moans. He can’t stop his hips moving, even when Kon pushes up, obviously watching him.
“Fuck that’s hot.”
Tim feels like he’s on display, barer than being naked, and he curls his toes in the blankets and closes his eyes.
Kon is twisting his wrist on every upstroke, and it’s brutally intense, almost painful, but it’s just what Tim needs.
“K-kiss,” Tim gasps, his voice breaking as Kon thumbs the head of his cock. “Kiss me—“
Kon’s lips are on his before he can even get the words all the way out, taking the moans right out of his mouth. “Anything, baby,” Kon breaks away to say, kissing him again and again. “Anything you need, anything.”
Tim shakes and cries out and Kon catches it in his mouth, tongue pushing against his own in time with the pulses now slicking up Kon’s fist, and the pleasure is almost unbearable. It feels like it’s being ripped out of him.
When he can finally make sense of the world, the haze of orgasm fading into clarity, he realizes the pressure on his cheek is Kon’s mouth, warm and humid against his skin. That the small rocking motions are coming from Kon’s other hand, where he’s reached down to touch himself.
Tim turns towards him and finds himself being kissed again, hungry and desperate. He reaches up and tangles his fingers in Kon’s hair, the strands cool and soft, and kisses back. Sucks on Kon’s tongue when it pushes into his mouth.
Kon groans and pushes up against him, letting go of himself to grab Tim’s hips and pull him close. Tim takes the hair under his hand and pulls, taking advantage of the slight distraction to roll Kon over onto his back. Kon’s hands slide down to Tim’s ass, holding him still so he can thrust up against him.
“Let go,” Tim says, slipping into a command voice without thinking. Kon obeys immediately, hands falling to his sides.
Then he makes a face, like he just realized what happened and reaches for Tim again. Tim catches his hands with his own, pushing them back down. “I want to blow you.”
Kon stares at him, wide eyed and unblinking, like maybe his words were in another language. His mouth works for a moment like a goldfish, like he can’t figure out how to form the right words. What he ends up saying is “Nngh?”
Tim laughs and Kon blushes. Actually blushes. “I mean yes. If you really want to, I—uh.”
Tim pulls Kon’s boxers the rest of the way down, and Kon pulls his legs up helpfully, spreading them to either side of Tim’s body. He’s sprawled out, beautiful and unabashedly naked, propped up on his elbows so he can see what Tim’s doing.
Tim pulls his eyes away from the ridiculously perfect planes and curves of Kon’s torso and brings them down to watch his hand wrap around the base of Kon’s dick. It’s as beautifully made as the rest of him, thick and dripping precome as he touches it.
And he doesn’t mean to… study. It’s just that he’s never really done this before, as opposed to imagining it vividly, analyzing and learning about it from the first moment he realized that it was something that he wanted. Something that he needed to know, like how to pretend that he’s just another normal boy, or figuring out how to calculate the perfect angle to throw a batarang.
The taste is faint, skin and heat and just a little salt, but Tim’s not paying much attention to it because Kon is saying “Oh god” and moaning. There’s really only one way to answer that sort of encouragement, so Tim wraps his lips around the head and goes down.
Remembers that he doesn’t exactly have to be gentle and just goes for it, all the way down until he bumps into his fist and then back up, suction and not really being careful with his teeth at all.
Kon moans, trailing out into something that sounds like a laugh, and when Tim raises an eyebrow, his mouth to full to ask, Kon says, “I want to put my hands in your hair, but I’m really afraid I’ll rip it out.”
Tim squeezes the thigh under his other hand, a signal that it’s okay, because Tim trusts him. If he trusts him in the middle of a fight, he can trust him in this, and Kon is always so carefully aware of how easy it would be for him to hurt someone.
“Oh no,” Kon gasps, laying back on the bed and gripping the sheets in his hands. “You don’t get to give me that look. You can trust me all you want, but I—ah, I don’t trust me right now.”
Tim hmms in acknowledgement and Kon gasps, planting his feet on the bed and straining up, not quite thrusting.
“Nnnh, but practice—maybe with practice I can, I—“
Tim has to catch Kon’s hips in his hands, hold them down to the bed as best he can, using all the pressure in his fingertips to try to bring Kon’s attention to the fact that he’s thrusting, shallowly.
“Please tell me this is something you’ll want to work at until you get it right,” Kon says, fervent and desperate.
Tim moans, muffled and low, and at the same time Kon thrusts up, and his hand is gone, so there’s nothing Tim can do but to try and swallow him down.
“God, oh fuck,” Kon swears and then he’s coming, splashing warm and salty-sweet in the back of Tim’s throat. Tim groans, doing his best to swallow all of it.
When he finally pulls away, he looks up to find Kon staring down at him, eyes wide. His face is flushed, mouth open, and Tim stares back, licks his lips without even thinking about it. Gets hauled up by the shoulders and straight into a kiss, deep and wet and Kon is totally licking the taste of himself out of Tim’s mouth. Tim groans and rolls them over, pulling Kon down on top of him.
They kiss for quite a while, taking the time to learn each other’s mouths now that things aren’t quite so urgent. Eventually Tim can feel himself slowing down, drifting and sleepy. When Kon pulls back Tim yawns, wide and completely surprising himself.
Kon laughs and Tim smiles, feeling suddenly shy. He has to fight the bone deep urge to hide his face.
“Go to sleep,” Kon says, kissing Tim’s forehead.
“Mmm. Shouldn’t we,” a yawn that’s big enough to make his jaw crack, “shouldn’t we talk about this, or something?”
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He says it like a promise, almost like a threat. Tim nods, letting Kon pull him close and wrap his arms around him. He’s warm, exhausted and deeply satisfied, more content than he’s felt in a long time.
He falls asleep, and dreams, and for once they aren’t all nightmares.