Archive of Our Own

It’s around 2am. Late enough that the bar is crowded without feeling overly full, but early enough that last call is still not visible on the horizon. For Tim, or any Bat really, it’s downright early. A stakeout downtown proved fruitful quickly, with no leads to follow up on until a few days later.

Tim’s been milking a beer for the better part of an hour. He’s not even really sure why—he could have just gone home after passing the information over to Bruce, who is working his current case alongside him. He could have even gone to the Mansion to discuss it in person. There was no real need to though. And Tim just… didn’t feel like going straight home. He’d been feeling off, a little worn down. Lonely in that way that he didn’t necessarily want specific company but didn’t want to just sit around his apartment puttering and muttering to himself. Sometimes you just want to drink something you barely care about in a bar where no one will ever remember you were there. 

So Tim finds himself at a fairly nondescript bar at the outskirts of the popular area downtown, pleasantly dissociating into a slowly warming beer.

“This seat taken, hot stuff?” A tall man in a leather jacket slides onto the tall barstool across from Tim at the high-top table where he’s seated himself at the edge of the bar. He’s been tucked away behind the pool tables, pleasantly alone and ignored.

Ugh, of course. The one time he wants to actually unwind a bit somewhere other than home, he attracts the wrong kind of attention. He figured he looked off-putting enough as it was, sitting alone sure, but not with any real intent to entice. He knows he’s dressed nicely but bland. A plain tee shirt, some well-worn jeans, a favorite hoodie. Nondescript. Without looking up, Tim mumbles out a quick “yeah I’m waiting for someone” and it isn’t until the other person doesn’t budge that he lifts his head.

“Hope it’s me.” A deep voice rumbles at him from across the table, and the familiar tone hits Tim like a bucket of ice water.

Oh.

Sitting across from Tim is Jason Todd.

He looks good. Not that Tim notices such things about Jason. Definitely not.

They shoot the shit. Both dance around any particular topics, flitting from one small talk staple to another. Jason has a beer. And another. And Tim wonders not for the first time why he hasn’t gotten up to leave, why he’s entertaining Jason Todd at all. Jason’s been courteous—if a little curt. They briefly discussed why Tim was in the area (the bar is, apparently, at the edge of what Jason considers his turf) but quickly moved on. If Tim wasn’t so flustered by bumbling into one another he’d have been surprised at just how friendly Jason was being. Just how normal this was. Talking to Jason comes easy, somehow. He finds himself falling into a familiar pattern of snarky banter, ripping on Dick (always a fun past time), and just…. genuinely enjoying Jason’s company.

Jason is witty, sarcastic, and mean in the way that Tim finds the most fun. They talk about how disgusting Gotham is in summer, how there’s always that wet-dog-rolling-in-garbage smell even within the most upper-class neighborhoods. They talk about their pulled muscles, and how the goons out on the street seem dumber and dumber. Jason hasn’t gotten up to get another drink. Tim finds he has no reason to ask Jason to leave.

Jason takes a long swig of his beer, emptying his last bottle, and Tim finds himself transfixed on the slow bob of Jason’s throat as he swallows. For it, Tim’s own mouth goes dry, and he wishes he hadn’t slammed the last of his own drink so quickly. He supposes he could order another. That’s a thing people do, right? They get another drink to prolong hanging out with someone they want to spend time with. He’s been milking the same one for, what he now realizes, about forty-five minutes. Tim can do this. He’s a normal and well-adjusted person. He’s wearing a hoodie. He’s blending in.

Tim gets himself and Jason another beer and sips at his, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but Jason’s broad expanse of chest across from him. What size is that shirt? Does he deliberately buy them too small to make them fit like this?

“So you really were just planning on sitting here all by yourself like a fucking nerd until closing, or what?” Jason asks, breaking Tim from his reverie.

“What? No.”

“So, what then-- You looking to get picked up?” Jason waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. His hair is shaved short on the sides and longer on top and his curls spill over one eye, just a bit, as he scrunches his forehead. He looks rugged and beautiful and dangerous, and he has slight dimples when his lips stretch into a smile at Tim’s discomfort. Not that Tim’s looking.

“I? No! No way.” Tim snaps, all too quickly.

“No way? Piece of ass like you in a dive like this, you’re lucky I came along. Got guys eyeing you from all over the room.” Jason tilts his head towards the men playing pool who seem to be paying them absolutely no attention.

Tim feels himself grow hot, likely turning various shades of pink. His ears feel like they’re on fire.

“That’s ridiculous. No one has ever picked me up at a bar.”

Jason leans back and smiles, lop-sided and wolfish. “No one? Ever?”

“No.” Tim says, forcefully.

“You sound disappointed, Timmers.”

“I’m not disappointed, what? Stop making this weird.”

“What am I making weird? That you’re a giant nerd sitting alone at a bar hoping for someone to take you home, or that you’re a giant nerd sitting alone at a bar hoping someone doesn’t take you home?”

“Stop it.” Tim swigs his beer, winces at the bitterness of it. Everything was going so well. Now Jason’s just being an asshole. He’s being an asshole, right? Making fun of him for—oh, wait, shit.

“Are you trying to pick me up, Jason?” Tim asks, as slow and clearly as he can manage even as the words feel shaky in his mouth.  He readies himself for the bit, for the punchline. He knows he’ll always be the butt of Jason’s joke.

“Yeah, I am.” Jason shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “You in?”

“What?”

“Take too many knocks to the head tonight, little bird?” Jason leans over, ruffles Tim’s hair in what feels like the least sexy gesture of all time. “I’m askin’ if you wanna come home with me.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’d rather be fucking you.” Jason winks. Oh my god he’s serious.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Jason repeats, like he’s in disbelief.

“Yeah, I said okay.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jason stands up, slides over to the tall barstool Tim’s sitting on. He leans in.

Tim blinks, slow and deliberate, feels like he’s asleep, feels like he’s in a dream, feels like this just absolutely is not happening. Jason is leaning in, eyes bright. His dark curls fall around the top of his head like a wild crown of brambles, he looks absolutely feral. A predator. Tim is sitting stock-still, back rigid and straight, like a deer in headlights. With great struggle, Tim licks his lips. 

Jason grabs Tim by the jaw, tilts his head up. Tim can feel his breath on his face, watches as Jason licks his own lips, his tongue slipping out for just a second.

Tim’s heart pounds in his chest so loud he’s worried someone might overhear and think he’s dying.

Jason kisses him. It’s nothing special. It’s dry, and quick, and Jason presses his mouth to his with enough force his stubble rasps at Tim’s jaw as he pulls away. Tim would like a thousand more.

“C’mon, little bird, my bike’s out back.”

Tim’s on the back of Jason’s motorcycle, arms around Jason’s waist, holding on for what is likely dear fucking life as the other man speeds through the Gotham streets. Jason drives so fast that Tim presses himself against Jason’s back for stability.

Jason smells like gunpowder and leather and something spicy beneath that and Tim’s head swims with the realization that Jason is wearing cologne. One of Bruce’s biggest no-nos. No scents. No signature anything. Nothing that lingers. Nothing to be remembered by or for. Tim lets his head rest into the crook of Jason’s neck and he inhales deeper, tries to ignore the way the chill night air whips at his face as they drive way too fast down the empty city streets.

Tim squeezes his eyes shut, nestles his face more against the sliver of Jason’s skin between his jacket and motorcycle helmet, and just lets himself feel. They ride in a blur to Jason’s apartment and Tim really does feel like he’s in a dream. Every now and then he lets his eyes crack open and the streetlights dance across his vision—whorls of bright lights and lens flare popping as they make their way. Jason doesn’t say anything for the ride, but once, at a red light, he reaches down to stroke Tim’s hands with his thumb, where they’re wrapped around him. Tim feels his stomach lurch like the drop of a roller-coaster as they zip down the empty stretch of road once the light turns.

Once inside Jason’s sparse apartment, Tim has second thoughts.

What the hell is he doing!? This is Jason Todd, a man who has tried to kill him on multiple occasions. And yeah, they’re way past that at this point, it still feels….

Somewhere in the dark recesses of Tim’s mind far below any point in which he’d admit it to himself is the memory of taking photos in the middle of the night.

 It was a hot, muggy summer night, the kind where your sweat forms a film so thick you can’t tell where the air starts and your skin begins, everything just feels damp, weighed down. Tim had been perched with his camera at the edge of a fire escape in central Gotham, after figuring out on the police scanners that there was an altercation at a jewelry store. Tim had a good vantage point to get pictures of either the ground below or the roof of the building next door. There was a noise above, and Tim caught the last bits of a fight between Batman, Robin, and several assailants as it veered towards the very edge of the rooftop. He zoomed in with his camera lens to get as much of the action as possible. Robin had been holding his own, taking down one, two thugs at once with swift, forceful kicks. But all of a sudden, a large attacker grabbed Robin from behind and held him, broad arms across his chest, as another goon flicked a knife open. The blade glinted in the dim light of the rooftop and Tim felt himself hold his breath as the evil man approached the second Boy Wonder. There was a whirl of movement, darkness enveloping the scene as Batman used his cape to deflect the blow and obscure his movements. Robin was freed! But…. Tim zoomed in as far as he could, felt sweat run down his back. The entire front of Robin’s costume was shredded, sliced entirely in half down the middle, barely hanging onto the teen’s shoulders. Tim could see everything—the hard planes of Robin’s abs, an exposed nipple, the light dusting of hair above the top of his little, scaly, green…. Oh god. He swallowed, feeling altogether too warm, even in the damp summer air.  Rivulets of sweat dripped down his brow, his spine, his palms. Tim yelped as his camera slipped from his sweaty hands, clattered to the fire escape bars at his feet, blessedly not tumbling off the side. He let himself slump down beside it, trying to catch his breath, wondering why his heart was beating so hard and so loud, why he felt so woozy, why his jeans suddenly felt so tight.

 Jason reaches down and touches the side of Tim’s face. For it, Tim inhales, shaken from his memory.

“Are we doing this?” Tim feels his heart rabbiting in his chest, like it’s trying to burrow its way deeper inside of him. A rabbit is exactly what Tim feels like—a goddamn prey animal staring down the muzzle of something large and sharp that wants to devour him whole. The last time he was this nervous around Jason, both their blood had been spilled by one another’s hands. Tim takes a step forward, not quite closing the gap between the two of them. He exhales slowly, counting backwards to himself for a moment, lets the numbers swirl in his mind like familiar friends. He feels silly, using anti-anxiety techniques to calm down before a hookup. That’s what they’re doing here right?

“Doing what?” Jason crosses his arms and smirks, takes a few steps back. “What does this mean Tim. Use your big boy words.”

“Jason come on. Don’t be a dick.”

Jason laughs, breathy and loud, with a slight smoker’s wheeze at the end. Tim watches the way Jason’s broad chest rises and falls with it. The way his tee shirt is stretched taut across his pecs. Tim swallows, feels like it was very audible.

Jason snorts. “We both know that position is filled in our family.”

“Our family?”

“Our family?” Jason mimics back, high and nasal. “Look I can emphasize random words too, princess. Don’t make it a thing, and stop being a brat.” Jason’s looking down at Tim, his lips still curled into a grin. “Just tell me what you want.”

Tim wants to close the gap between them and kiss the corners of Jason’s mouth, lap at his pursed lips until they fall open and let him in. Wants to rub his cheek against the stubble of Jason’s jaw until his face burns and follow it down until he can feel Jason’s blood pulse under his teeth against his neck. Until he reaches down and— Tim wants—

“I don’t think you want me to stop being a brat, Jason.” Tim looks up at Jason through his lashes. He still feels nervous, unsteady. He can feel sweat beading at his brow, can feel the way his palms are a little damp as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side, as if it’s taking all his restraint to hold them there. But there’s something else, something more untamed underneath it, and Tim decides to lean in. Literally and figuratively.

“I—what?” Jason doesn’t get a chance to really ask the question before Tim moves on him.

Tim closes the space between them and stands on his tip-toes. He reaches a hand behind Jason’s head and pulls him down into a kiss. It’s a little awkward, they don’t quite line up, and Jason seems more startled than anything for a moment. But in a movement that definitely veers nature versus nurture, Tim puts his other hand at Jason’s waist and splays his fingers just under the fabric of Jason’s shirt. There’s a thin sliver of skin he can reach, and he runs his thumb along the edge of Jason’s Adonis Belt, raking his nails lightly.

Jason moans, and Tim takes the chance to slip his tongue into Jason’s mouth. The angle seems weird, but the sensation is pleasant and Tim desperately hopes he’s doing it right. Jason responds immediately, kissing back with enthusiasm, biting gently at Tim’s bottom lip. Jason’s lips are so plush against his own, Tim feels devoured, feels like truly Jason could just consume him if only he wanted. And oh, does Tim want it. Jason’s hands move up under Tim’s shirt and his calloused fingers grab just above his hips, his thumbs skimming into the light trail of hair that disappears below his belt. Tim mewls as Jason digs his fingers into his lower back, goosebumps cascading across his body at the way Jason’s large hands envelop Tim’s trim waist. Jason’s body feels huge against him. Tim moans as he recalls being called little bird, thinks that’s exactly how he feels—small, hollow-boned, barely tethered to the ground.

He tries not to, but all Tim can think about is that this is it—that moment in every teen rom com where the romantic leads finally kiss for real and an indie band plays gently, a song about the triumph of love, about how delicate and precious this moment is. Tim feels his cheeks heat up in a wild mix of embarrassment and arousal. This is just a hookup. Calm the fuck down, Drake. The little voice somewhere in the back of Tim’s mind reminds him he’s hooking up with Robin. Tim tries to shut that voice up as best he can by licking as far into Jason’s mouth as possible.

Jason digs his nails in deeper and pulls Tim flush against him. He rolls his hips a bit and—

Holy shit.

Jason is hard, the thick length of his cock, tangible and real, presses against Tim’s thigh and Tim can’t help but moan. Jason’s turned on. He turned Jason on. Jason’s hard because of him. The dizzy, swimmy feeling swoops through Tim’s head and drops into his gut as he turns to mouth at Jason’s throat, sucking a bruise into his skin in an attempt to ground himself. Jason rolls his hips harder, bucking up into the scrape of Tim’s teeth and for a moment Tim wonders if Jason has a gun in his pocket. Well at least that joke makes sense now. Jason carries some very large guns. Packing heat. Oh god.

Jason kisses Tim as he walks him away from his apartment entryway, never breaking contact. Tim gets slammed up against a door, Jason scooping him up as Tim wraps his legs around his waist, lets himself be lifted. It’s so much. Jason bites and sucks at Tim’s throat in retaliation for earlier and Tim knows he is getting marked the fuck up. Something about that—knowing that tomorrow there will be marks, reminders, that this is happening and real—makes Tim feel even hotter. He drops his hands to Jason’s waist and starts opening his belt.

“Slow down, Tim.” Jason all but purrs against his ear. “Let’s get in my room first.”

Jason sets Tim down slowly and reaches past him to open the door. It’s all Tim can do not to tumble backwards across the threshold on shaky legs. Jason’s room is as spartan as the rest of the apartment—there’s a bed, it’s big and has nice looking sheets, but beyond that there’s two open suitcases and a dresser missing half its drawers. This must be a safehouse. Somehow, Tim feels disappointed not to be taken to Jason’s actual home. Does Jason even have one in Gotham? Does Tim even know anything about Jason?

Jason stays over by the door unlacing his boots, then shucks off his jeans and jacket to stand just in a threadbare white tee shirt and some black boxer-briefs that look like they’re about to disintegrate from the burden of Jason’s massive thighs. All Tim does know is that he wants. And for now, that’s good enough.

Tim stands near the corner of the bed like he’s waiting for an invitation.

Jason gives him one in the form of sitting on the edge of the bed and spreading his legs while patting his thighs. Whoo boy.

With as much grace as a duck tumbling down a garbage chute, Tim divests himself of everything but his boxers. Why wait?

Jason gives him an appraising look then pats his thighs again. Who is Tim to argue with such a gracious offer? He straddles the other man. They pick up where they left off, only this time with a lot less between them. Tim ends up more perched atop Jason than straddling him. Jason feels gigantic beneath him, and the now even more obvious erection tenting his underwear is certainly…. impressive.

Jason loses his shirt quickly, with Tim yanking it off over Jason’s head partly to distract himself from the truncheon pressing against his leg. It’s a lot happening at once and all of it is amazing. Tim lets himself indulge—he runs his hands across Jason’s pecs, pleased with himself when a brush over a pert nipple results in Jason making a high sound Tim would have sworn could not have possibly come from the larger man.

Tim could lose himself there in the crease of Jason’s chest. Jason leans back on the bed, lets Tim take what he wants. Tim bites Jason hard on the firm muscle over his heart then licks at the teeth marks that remain when he pulls away. Jason closes his eyes and gasps, lips curled in a smile. Tim files that one away.

Tim rakes his nails down Jason’s sides and for it, Jason growls and sears up to kiss Tim so deeply he thinks he could drown in it. Tim feels drunk, maybe with power, maybe a little bit still buzzed from earlier. Either way it doesn’t matter. He sinks into the feeling, laves his tongue up Jason’s throat, nips at Jason’s jaw. He’s done this part before, the makeouts, the heavy petting. Sure it’s mostly been with girls, and nowhere near as aggressive, but the mechanics of giving a hickey are relatively the same as grabbing as much exposed skin as possible. But they’re quickly careening into new territory as Jason hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Tim’s boxers.

“This okay?” Jason’s voice is husky, thick with lust. Tim can hardly believe the words are directed at him.

Tim just nods, dumbly. Jason pulls Tim’s boxers off and tosses them on the floor. Between them, Tim’s dick nods with interest.

Tim very much wants to see Jason’s own dick, but also very, very much does not want to leave the position they’re in. Jason has one hand on his lower back, the other lightly scratching into the light trail of well-manicured hair above his flushed cock. He’s leaking, he can feel it even without looking, and wishes Jason would move his hand lower and touch him but he doesn’t want to break the spell of whatever is happening. Tim pants through his open mouth when he realizes Jason is staring at his dick.

“Like what you see?” Tim asks, as coy as possible.

Jason licks his lips in response. Tim drops dead then and there. No, no he doesn’t but he feels his blood pulse in his ears like he just got flipped upside down.

As he makes out with him, Jason slides his hand around to dip his fingers into the cleft of Tim’s ass. Tim moans into Jason’s mouth as the other man runs his fingers lower. Tim’s dick bobs in the space between them and everything feels heavy and humid, the heat of their bodies wrapping around Tim like a cloak. A thick digit ghosts over Tim’s hole and for it, Tim feels like he’s careening through a whole fucking galaxy of new sensation. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and Jason takes it for encouragement, slides his fingers along the hidden space between Tim’s cheeks and presses just inside the sweat-damp pucker of Tim’s entrance. It’s so much. It’s too much. It’s too much! Tim feels as if his ribs clench down around his lungs just as his hole clenches down around the intrusive, sweat-slicked finger. He gasps for air more like a drowning man than anything coherently sexy. Jason goes wide eyed and withdraws his hand, moves to hold Tim by the hips, pushing him further back on his thighs towards his knees.

“Hey, hey….. hey! Timmy, breathe. Fuck.” Jason rubs at Tim’s back, drifts his fingers down his spine. “It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t gotta do anything else if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I shoulda asked if that was alright.”

Tim feels his face go hot and knows his cheeks are heating up like a ripe tomato in a hot pan moments before its skin bursts. He hopes he is, at the very least, a sexy tomato. He can’t find words. Jason keeps rubbing his back and Tim breathes in great gulps of air, feels like his vision is blurring. Jason is asking him something and it isn’t registering. He forces himself to calm down, wills himself to remember he’s safe.

“I—what?”

“Tim is this your first time?” Jason asks again, his voice free of mockery.

“No…. of course not. No way.” Tim replies, much too quickly.

“Tim.” Jason says his name again, softer this time, quiet. Less a whisper and more like a breathless apology. “Tim. Are you a virgin? It’s okay if you are.”

Tim whimpers. He’s so turned on he can’t think straight, wants nothing else than for Jason to put his fingers back where they were—is terrified by the thought of it.

“Shit. It’s okay.”

“I’ve just never done this before, I want to. I want to.” Tim feels like he’s going to cry, feels tears stinging the corners of his eyes as a flood of embarrassment washes over him. Stupid, stupid! He’s fucking this up so badly. He feels frustrated, ridiculous. He’s naked in Jason Todd’s lap and all he has to do is let Jason touch him and he can’t even do that right.

Jason gently pushes Tim off of him and scoops him up by the waist, pulling them both onto the bed instead. Once there, he rearranges them against the pillows until they're facing each other. He keeps one arm draped across Tim, rubs little circles against his back.

“Tim, it’s really okay. If you wanna be here, I want you here. Whatever we end up doing is fine.” Jason reaches up, wipes away an errant tear as it seeps out of Tim’s closed eyes.

Tim wishes he could disappear. Jason is being so goddamn nice to him. Tim thinks he could handle this better if Jason was being mean, making fun of him. He’s used to that. Used to being called pretender, a nerd, a dork, to be ragged on by Jason. He opens his eyes.

Jason is looking at him with concern, but beyond that, Jason doesn’t seem upset. Tim wants to take that at face value, wants so badly to stop freaking himself out. Jason’s proven he won’t do anything Tim doesn’t want to do. Proven that he’s interested in having a good time on whatever terms Tim feels comfortable with. And more than that—Tim can see the way Jason’s cheeks look red, the way his eyes are dark and wide, the way Jason’s breathing is slow but erratic.  Tim knows the tells. He’s a detective, after all.  Jason wants him, as much as Tim wants Jason.

Tim doesn’t want to deny him. Or himself.

Tim reaches up, lets his fingers gently scratch through the whorls of dark hair between Jason’s impressive pecs. “Can I suck your dick?”

“Uh, sure, yeah, are you sure?” Jason props himself up on an elbow, seemingly surprised by this sudden vibe change. “You okay?”

“I’d be better with your dick in my mouth.”

“Well, I won’t keep a man from his medicine.” Jason moves back to where he was, with his feet on the floor, legs splayed, at the edge of the bed, after sliding his underwear off at last.

Jason’s hard-on has wavered a bit since Tim’s meltdown, but if anything, it makes Tim more eager to get Jason back up to full mast. He settles down between Jason’s legs.

 Okay so he’s doing this.

Tim holds Jason’s dick at the base with a loose fist, realizes he can stack his other hand fisted on top of it and there’s still a bit of thick cockhead peeking above the circle of his thumb. Alright, sure, Tim has delicate hands with slight, long fingers. But this seems ridiculous. Jason feels hot and heavy in his hands and he looks down at Tim with expectant bemusement. He strokes hesitantly and feels Jason grow within his grasp.

Jason’s dick is fucking enormous.

“H-how big are you?” Tim asks before he realizes words are leaving his mouth.

“I dunno, I’ve never measured.” Jason smiles sheepishly at the boy on his knees below him.

“Bullshit, everyone measures.” Tim takes his right hand off, keeps holding Jason’s base with his left. He tightens his grip experimentally and is rewarded with Jason’s cock pulsing against his palm. Fuck, that’s hot. “Come on share with the class.” He feels better, more confident now. This is something he can handle. Tim likes being useful, having something to do.

“Like nine?? Nine inches?? I swear I’ve never really measured, I just know I’m bigger than Roy, and he’s definitely measured it. And he said he was eight.”

“Okay not asking about that particular contest, my bad.” Tim isn’t sure h,e has the mental capacity to handle picturing Jason and Roy going at it right now, but he feels his own length twitch at the thought.

Okay. Okay, let’s do this.

Tim drags his tongue up the underside of Jason’s cock. The taste is earthy, salty. Not that different than what he’s tasted of other parts of Jason. He somehow thought there’d be more to it. Above him, Jason swears and moans loudly. Tim keeps it up, dragging his tongue up from the base of Jason’s cock, takes the head into his mouth and swirls his tongue. He’s rewarded with another moan and a large hand palming the back of his head, fingers not quite digging into his hair.

He slides Jason’s length deeper into his mouth, takes about a quarter of him. He runs his tongue around the girth of the member in his mouth, hollows his cheeks as he pushes further, taking more. Jason grabs his hair a bit harder and lets out a litany of swears. Tim preens. He likes being good at something.

Tim lets himself get lost to it, gets a rhythm going. He pumps his fist at the base of Jason’s dick, lets his saliva run down the shaft as he sucks and licks at the thick cockhead. His mouth feels stretched, a little bruised from their furious makeouts earlier. Tim tries to keep it wet, tries to really let his tongue do most of the work.

He’s definitely not fucking this up. Jason keeps swearing, bucking his hips lightly, one hand on his own abdomen like he’s holding himself back from really fucking into Tim’s mouth. It’s getting easier and easier the more he goes at it and damn does it feel nice. There’s something about feeling Jason’s thick cock in his mouth that has Tim hard as hell. Everything feels hazy and he focuses solely on the feeling of his mouth around Jason, the tang of his pre-come on his tongue, the thickness of him stretching his lips. He reaches down and lets himself drag his thumb across the top of his own dick, smooths the beads of wetness there down his shaft as slow as he can manage. Touching himself has never felt so good.

Jason interrupts him.

“You’re really pretty.”

“What?” Tim mumbles up at Jason, eyes half-lidded, his mouth full of cock, his head someplace else.

“I said you can take more than that.” Jason looks away and bites his knuckle as Tim obediently does exactly as requested.

Tim lets his tongue peek out past his bottom lip just a bit and rears up a bit, shifting the angle of the head of Jason’s dick. He slides forward slowly at first, but when he no longer feels like he’s about to gag, Tim pushes forward, and lets Jason slide into his throat. He sputters for a second, surprised by the blunt head bumping the back of his throat, but inhales through his nose and manages to lean forward even more, until his nose hits the dark thatch of hair at the base of Jason’s cock. It’s so goddamn much and tears sting at the corners of Tim’s eyes but holy shit does he feel accomplished.

“Timholyfuck.” Jason says quickly, rolled into one word.

Tim grunts with pride. He pulls back slightly then pushes ahead again, really letting Jason’s length rest down his throat. His hands are at Jason’s hips now, holding himself steady. He feels dizzy, maybe from lack of air, maybe from how goddamn hot it is to have Jason’s thick cock down his throat. The weight of it across his tongue feels perfect to him, like it’s something he’s always wanted but could never put into words. On his knees, Jason’s hand at the back of his head gently guiding him, Jason’s thick length thrusting in and out of his mouth—Tim feels sexier than he ever has in his damn life. He looks up at Jason and lets the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile for just a moment before he hollows his cheeks and sucks.

“Tim you…. You are a fucking natural, really you are made for this.” Jason sighs his words, slurs them really. “Holy SHIT TIM you gotta be a fucking liar cuz no one sucks dick like this on the first try.”

Tim drags his tongue along the underside of Jason’s length as he pulls back, letting the dick in his mouth fall past his lips with a wet slide of saliva. Tim knows his face is a mess, can feel the way his lips are stretched and puffy from his efforts, the way drool must be glistening down his chin. He beams.

“I may not have had much practice, but I am a thorough study.” Tim pushes himself forward, grasping Jason at his base to all but shove him back into his mouth as far as he can, noisily slurping his way back down.

Jason makes a keening noise and snaps his hips, clearly unable to control himself. He fucks deep into Tim’s throat for a solid few minutes, grunting and lost in pleasure, before pulling out entirely.

“Hey hey sorry, I got carried away.”

Tim looks up at Jason through lashes wet with tears, puffy lips grinning as wide as he possibly can. Jason’s dick bobs in front of his mouth and it takes all of Tim’s resolve not to lurch forward and force the thick length of it right back down his throat.

“It’s okay.” Tim croaks out. “I liked that.”

“Of course you did, you little pervert.” Jason says, his voice thick with lust and affection. He thumbs at the corner of Tim’s fucked-out mouth.  “You’re a fucking natural, really. I’m really your first time?”

“Scout’s honor.” Tim lifts a hand, hoping to be helped off his shaky knees.

“You were never a boy scout.” Jason helps Tim up onto the bed. Tim flops down behind him. “Let’s shift gears, I don’t wanna come just yet. And damn I was gonna.” Jason turns to lay down next to Tim, drifts his hand up and down Tim’s heaving chest. He rakes his nails a little as he goes down, leaving raised trails in their wake. Tim shudders.

“Boy scouts, Robins, what’s the difference. We probably all get the same wilderness training.”

“Well if there’s one constant between the two, it’s to always be prepared.” Jason sits up and turns to get something out of the drawer of his nightstand. He puts it down on the bed near a far pillow. Tim doesn’t get a good look at it but flushes at the thought of what he knows it must be.

Tim’s hard—so hard it almost hurts—he’s barely touched himself, was focused so much on doing the best job he could blowing Jason. His cock curves upwards towards his belly, nearly purple at the tip.

Jason drags a finger up from under Tim’s balls, slowly, drawing it up past the wet tip of Tim’s dick, dragging the slick he finds there down the shaft with his palm.

“What do you want Tim?” Jason asks, slow and deliberate, never stopping his calloused fingers dragging up and down Tim’s length. “You did such a good job. I feel like I should reward you.”

Tim feels like he’s shaking. Jason moves off of his dick, reaches down to cup his balls, rolling them in his palm.

“What do you want, little bird?” Jason asks, his voice deep and lilting. Tim feels himself lifting his hips, rising to meet Jason’s touch as the other man rakes his nails down across Tim’s hips. It’s hard, hard enough to leave red welts in the wake of Jason’s blunt nails. Tim’s dick pulses precome. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Tim.”

Tim still can’t believe Jason’s saying any of this to him, that he’s here, that this is real. Jason moves then, swifter than Tim would expect a man of his size, gets on all fours in the bed, dips low to lap at the beads of moisture spilling from the head of Tim’s cock. Jason’s tongue is warm and thick. Tim bucks up, smears his wetness against Jason’s lips as the larger man smiles. Without saying anything else, Jason sucks Tim into his mouth, swallows him down easily. Tim’s of average size, maybe a little above (he has definitely measured, okay?). Jason swallows him down like he’s nothing. Jason’s hands are at his hips, holding Tim down, as he sucks with abandon. Tim thinks he’s going crazy, that he’s going to come in just a few more seconds. He feels like every ounce of blood in his body has just rushed to his cock. Jason pulls off of him with a wet pop, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to Tim’s dark purple cockhead.

“Not yet, baby.” Jason coos at him from between his legs. Tim throws an arm across his face, trying to catch his breath. He was so close. He was so so so close. “Turn over for me.”

It takes a moment for Tim to register what Jason’s asked, but when he does, he scrambles to comply. In an instant he’s on all fours, his face pressed against one of the pillows near Jason’s headboard. He steels himself, readies himself for what he knows must come next. To finally allow Jason to slip a digit inside of him and--

Jason laves his tongue up from the back of Tim’s balls, up his crack, flutters the tip against Tim’s muscled rim. He drags his tongue back down, swirling it around Tim’s entrance, then lets it lay flat, wide and thick, as he licks his way up across Tim’s hole again.

Tim screams into a pillow. This is not what he was expecting.

Jason keeps licking, keeps dragging his tongue up and down between Tim’s cheeks. He grabs at the globes of Tim’s ass, pulling them apart to make room to work. Jason’s fingers dig into the meat of him while his tongue tastes him, unrelentingly. Tim wails as Jason’s tongue presses inside.

Jason pulls back and spits. Tim can’t help himself; he arches himself back, pushes himself towards Jason’s face as the thick glob drips down his ass. Behind him, he can hear Jason laugh under his breath. Tim hardly cares. Nothing has ever felt this good.

“Jason…. Please.”

“Please what, Tim? I thought we agreed to use our big boy words tonight.”

Tim can feel Jason’s breath against his skin, so close, but not where he wants him.

“Please, Jason I need more.”

Jason reaches forward, starts to rub at Tim’s saliva-soaked hole with this thumb. “Is this what you want Tim?”

Tim nods, then realizes maybe Jason can’t see that. “Y-yeah I want this.” He gasps as Jason presses his thick thumb inside, not far, just enough to make Tim feel the burn of the stretch. Jason pops his thumb inside only to pull it back and rub at Tim’s hole again, repeats this until Tim can’t help but choke out a sob. “Jason please I need more.”

“Needy little thing.” Jason chuckles as he replaces his thumb with his index finger. The burn is sharp, and Tim hiccups a bit as he drinks in air. Behind him, Tim hears a soft click, then feels something wet and a little cold run down Jason’s finger against his body. The lube eases the way, and Jason sinks his thick finger into Tim’s body. “Greedy little bird, this won’t be enough for you for long.”

Tim knows he’s right, knows he’s already too far gone. Part of him wants to protest, to fight back against Jason’s heated words, to say no that isn’t him he isn’t like this. Tim knows damn well he’d be lying.  He wants nothing more than for Jason to fill him up. Tim pants, overwhelmed by this sudden desire.

“More.” Tim grunts.

“Whatever you want, baby.”  Jason drizzles more lube onto his fingers, slides in his middle digit. At first, he just pumps them in and out slow and deliberate as he had moved his fingers before, but soon he’s scissoring them, stretching them wide, twisting his wrist to pull at Tim’s insides from all angles. The feeling is incredible, Tim feels like every nerve in his body is on fire. Jason joins his fingers back again and fucks into Tim in shallow thrusts of his wrist.

Tim pants against the pillows, feels moisture gather under his chin, realizes he’s drooling. He wipes his chin on the bed as he turns to peek around his back. Behind him, Jason pulls at the meat of his ass, eyes focused on the way Tim’s body is taking his fingers, pulling them inside. He turns them, crooks his fingers up into Tim just so and--

“Jason.” Tim gasps and comes without warning.

“Found your sweet spot, babe?” Jason says, radiating smugness.

“Fuck.”

“We’ll get there.” Jason slides in a third finger without preamble.

Tim shakes, the sensation is a lot. There’s no burn, no pain. His head feels like it’s full of static. His still-hard dick spurts one more half-hearted rope of cum down onto the mattress as Jason massages the walls of his inner channel with his three thick fingers. This has to be thicker than Jason’s dick, yeah? There’s no way Jason is more than this. Everything has already been a lot but this is truly something. With every twist of his wrist, Jason brushes over that spot inside of Tim and another milky line dribbles down from his twitching cock. Jason doesn’t break his rhythm, just keeps massaging inside of Tim, drawing out little gasps and moans as Tim helplessly dribbles from his barely-touched cock. He feels something building inside him, feels like he’s careening towards another orgasm. Every part of him feels alight with sensation—his dick rubs against the duvet on the bed with every thrust of Jason’s hand, he feels hot and flushed all over, feels like he’s sinking into something he doesn’t understand. Jason doesn’t stop, just keeps rubbing rubbing rubbing inside of him, all the while cooing words of encouragement.

“You’re doing so good baby, you’re taking it so well. You’re gonna take my cock, Tim.” Tim feels like it’s less bedroom talk and more a command. He wants to nod, he wants to beg for it. But Jason presses inside of him just right and all Tim can manage is a muffled sob as he bites down on a piece of pillow.

Jason withdraws his fingers without warning, leaving Tim’s hole fluttering in the sex-warmed air. He clenches around nothing and whines without thinking.

“Shhh, baby it’s ok.” Jason reassures Tim. He can hear that click again, knows the lube is being poured onto something. There’s a rustling and tearing noise, a condom. Another click. Tim whines.  “I’ll be right back with you.”

True to his word, Jason moves behind Tim, one hand flat across his lower back.

Tim yelps as he feels the blunt cockhead of Jason’s dick rubbing against his already used hole.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“It is, you’ve been so good Tim. Be good for me a little longer, okay?”

“Okay.” Tim says, overcome with obedience and desire. Another thing to file away. Well tonight’s a lot of firsts.

“Good. Good.” Jason says encouragingly as he rubs at Tim’s entrance with additional lubricant.

Tim is convinced this won’t work. There’s no way the thick head of Jason’s cock is going to get inside of him, stretched on three fingers or not. Tim hears another click, feels a wet dribble of lube across his entrance.

Jason feeds his dick into Tim’s body in what feels like millimeters. The slide is slow, achingly slow, and the pressure immense. Tim feels like he’s being pushed down against the bed by Jason’s dick. It burns so much, so much more than anything that has come before it. He’s loose and ready, he knows this, about as relaxed as he could possibly be for this moment. His head still swims from his orgasm, and everything has a fuzzy-floaty feeling as Jason puts one large hand across his shoulder blades, uses the other to press himself into Tim. Just when it feels truly impossible, like Jason has come up against a wall inside of him, there’s a breaching sensation, a pulling, and suddenly Jason is inside him.

“I know you had it in you Tim.”

“I th-think I have you in me, Jason.” Tim can barely recognize the sound of his own voice.

Jason laughs and snaps his hips, driving his full length into Tim. Tim pitches forward, unable to catch himself with the force of it. His face mashes against the mattress and Jason grabs him by the shoulders, pulls him back up. Jason starts to slide back out slowly, not all the way, only to slide back in as deep as possible. He moves slow, Tim knows this is nowhere near as hard as Jason could be fucking him, but it’s already an incredible sensation.

Well, Tim’s certainly not a virgin anymore. He giggles manically.

“Something funny?” Jason starts thrusting harder, jostling Tim’s laughter into gasps.

“No. No, please fuck me Jason.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Jason grips Tim’s hips, pumps into him harder, faster. The feeling is intense. The lube eases the way, and with the pressure and pain of Jason’s blunt cockhead already inside of him, Jason’s able to slide in and out of Tim with ease. Jason’s used a lot of lube and the wet squelch of it fills the room alongside the dull slap slap slap where their bodies meet. Tim feels messy. Tim feels sexy. Tim feels--

“J-jason can I tell you s-something?” Tim huffs out his words in stuttered bursts as he pitches forward towards the pillows with every one of Jason’s thrusts. He feels so full, he feels so full like he can still taste Jason’s dick at the back of his throat. He never knew—never imagined—that getting fucked would feel like this. He feels stretched in all the best ways, stuffed, ready to burst in more ways than one. The fat head of Jason’s cock drags against that place inside of him again and Tim feels like if he doesn’t let out just one thing, just one part of himself, he’s going to explode. If Jason keeps hammering him at that angle, he just might anyway.

“Baby you could tell me anything right now.” Jason runs his large palm up Tim’s spine, pressing the smaller boy down against the bed by splaying his fingers across his shoulder blades for a moment. Tim lets his hips be lifted higher, inhales a gulp of air as Jason grabs him by the front of his thighs and pulls him entirely off the bed. He has nowhere to go. It’s all he can do to keep his face off the mattress by pillowing his head in his arms. Jason’s in full control—his hands support Tim’s legs just off of the bed, Tim’s knees bracketing Jason’s hips as he slides in and out of Tim, hitting that spot inside him with expert precision.

“I—”

Jason keeps pounding into Tim, rattling all thoughts from his brain.

Jason stops thrusting and pulls back a bit.

Tim whines.

Jason pulls out fully, flips Tim over like he weighs nothing, hitches his legs up around his waist, and slides back home.

Tim forgets what he was going to say and moans so loudly his already abused throat rasps with the effort.

“Is that what you had to say?” Jason laughs, and Tim swears he feels it reverberate through his whole body.

Right. Right. Words, words words. He looks up at Jason, tries to remember how to make his mouth move in any shape other than a tight O. On his back now, Tim is transfixed. Jason’s sweat-soaked curls fall into his face and his cheeks are a burning crimson. He’s biting his lip as he thrusts into Tim, his big hands holding up the other boy’s legs. Tim feels so small. Delicate. Fragile, somehow, though he knows without a doubt he can hold his own against Jason in a fight. He feels like he’s being taken apart. Jason moves one of his hands up to his hip, his palm so wide his fingers dig into the meat of Tim’s lower back as his thumb brushes just next to Tim’s flushed cock, never quite touching. It’s been ages since Jason’s touched him there, and now without the friction of the mattress beneath him Tim thinks he might go crazy with need.

“I’ve wanted this for a really long time.” Tim manages to say, punctuated by breathy gasps as Jason continues to fuck his way right up to Tim’s brainpan. Maybe Jason wasn’t joking about his size. Tim wants to measure, needs to, for science. He files the thought away, hopes it sticks in the gooey mess of his fucked-out thoughts.

“How long?” Jason asks, his voice dropping to a low rumble. He rolls his hips, has Tim reeling. “How long have you wanted this?”

Tim closes his eyes, lets himself float on the feeling of Jason fucking him, of being fucked. It’s nothing like he expected, everything is so much more visceral, so much just…. more. He can’t articulate it even to himself.  His hands twist into the bedding beneath him, hardly able to make purchase as Jason has him lifted from the bed, is fucking him within an inch of his life. Jason’s cock drags against his prostate pulling unrelenting gasps and moans from him. He wants to touch himself so, so badly but feels like if he lets go of the sheets he’ll be fucked right through the bed.

“S-since I saw you.” Tim manages to say, between vocalizations of pleasure.

Jason slows down.

“Since…. What?” Jason tilts his head, keeps rolling his hips in slow waves, but gives Tims space to breathe.

Tim babbles. “Since I saw you. On, on a roof top I saw you. I had my camera. I saw you fighting--you were Robin.” Tim lifts his hand, starts touching himself without even thinking. He pumps himself slowly with a loose fist as he talks. “I saw you on the roof fighting and you cut your shirt—I mean someone cut your sh-shirt.”

Jason drops Tim’s legs down to the bed, pushes on his knees without separating from him. He fucks him in deep, slow pumps of his hips. He has Tim nearly folded in half, his knees against Jason’s waist. Jason leans down, props himself up on one arm using a balled fist. With the other, he swats Tim’s hand away, replacing it with his own, much larger grip. He strokes Tim’s cock, and for it, Tim feels like he could scream or cry or both at once somehow.  Jason keeps thrusting inside him, never quite pulling out, just dragging himself deep before fucking in shallow rolls of his hips. Jason is crowding over him, his face inches from Tim’s own.

“Tell me more.” Jason whispers, his voice hoarse between them. He licks his lips. “Tell me.” He strokes Tim slow, in time with his movements.

Tim can barely function. He feels like he’s being pulled upwards by a grapnel, soaring higher and higher towards some invisible zenith.

“Tell me.” Jason says. It is a demand.

Tim blinks slowly. A bead of sweat drips off the sharp slope of Jason’s nose, hits Tim’s cheek. Tim looks up at Jason, meets his eyes. Jason Todd is powerful and beautiful and raw and inside him.

“You were f-fighting. And you had your shirt cut open, I could see your whole chest and—” Tim moans, feels his eyes roll back in his head as Jason flicks his thumb across the head of Tim’s cock, smears his leaking precome in circles. Jason fists him, tighter, harder, and holds his hand still at the base.

“Tell me.” Jason repeats. He looks at Tim, his eyes wide, his expression impossible to read. He keeps rolling his hips, keeps dragging his cock inside of Tim. Tim clenches around him, feels Jason’s dick throb. Fuck.

“I zoomed in with my camera, and I saw—” Tim doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to articulate this. What did he see? Nothing much, really. A little bit of Jason’s happy trail. A single nipple. His abs. It wasn’t even anything sexual, or too racy. He’d seen more in the dirty magazines Jack thought he had well-hidden in the master bathroom. But it was Robin. He saw Robin. Tim feels himself spurt wetly against Jason’s palm, feels like he’s leaking out his emotions alongside his slick precome. He can hardly catch his breath, hardly hold onto a thought.

“Did you like what you saw, Tim?” Jason goads him, must know Tim’s close. Jason speeds up, both his thrusts and the way he pumps the hard length of Tim’s cock.

“Yeah.” Tim nods, barely aware of what he’s agreeing to. “Yeah, I liked it a lot.”

“I like you a lot.” Jason says, then swears under his breath.

For a moment there’s nothing but the slap of skin on skin, the slide of Jason’s hand up Tim’s shaft. Jason looks down at Tim, eyes wide, and in a moment of lucidity, Tim thinks it might be fear.

Jason lets go of Tim’s cock and grips his hips once more, pumping into him furiously. Any semblance of lucidity is lost to the feel of Jason’s fat cock inside of him, pulling him towards another orgasm. Jason screws his eyes shut, losing himself to the moment as well. Tim grips himself once more, stroking as well as he can in time to Jason’s heated thrusts.

“Say my name.” Tim demands, realizing who had control here all along.

He can feel Jason grow harder inside him, nearly impossibly so.

“Come for me Jason, I’m going to come, come for me. Come with me.” Tim swipes his thumb over the flushed head of his cock, drags his fist down pumping himself as he arches his back right off the bed. Tim splashes his chest with his come, shouts as he spends himself across Jason’s abs as the other man leans down to kiss him through his orgasm. Jason thrusts even harder, faster, jostling Tim as they kiss, never breaking contact until they both have to gasp for air.

“Tim.” Jason groans and Tim feels Jason pulse within him. Jason digs his nails into Tim’s hips, and Tim knows those marks will linger for days. “Tim. Tim.” Jason stutters out Tim’s name, a staccato to punctuate his final thrusts into the body below him.

Jason rolls off of Tim to flop down on the bed next to him. In a swift motion, Jason removes and ties off the condom and chucks it towards the trashcan across from the bed. It hits the corner of the can and falls on the floor. Close enough.

“You a cuddler?” Tim asks, breathlessly, his chest still heaving as he struggles to come down.

Jason laughs, soft and genuine. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I can be. Not with that much cum on you though.”

“Oh.”  Tim looks down at himself. He’s utterly wrecked— bruises, bitemarks and scratches adorn his entire body. He feels sticky. He can see the red outlines of Jason’s hands where he had so brutally palmed at his hips. His belly is slick with his own spend and sweat drips down his entire body. “Wanna shower?”

“Not yet.” Jason leans over, licks a stripe up Tim’s abs, lapping up as much of Tim’s come as he can before curling the thick muscle back into his mouth.

“Holy shit, you’re nasty.”

“You love it.” Jason says, licking at the corners of his mouth.

Tim pushes himself up on his elbows to turn and catch Jason’s mouth in a kiss. He laps against his tongue, tasting his own bitter release. His extremely spent cock twitches with vague interest.  Down boy.

Jason pulls back first, and Tim studies him as Jason brushes Tim’s sweaty hair off his forehead. Jason’s eyes are cast down towards him with a fondness Tim had only just learned of tonight.

“I meant it, you know.” Jason drifts his hand lower, plays with the soft, damp hairs at the nape of Tim’s neck, trails his fingers down along his spine as he talks. “I do like you. I didn’t just run into you randomly tonight.”

Tim says nothing, cannot dare to interrupt Jason’s post-coital confession.

Jason continues. “I saw you when I was patrolling earlier tonight, that you were in my turf.” Jason turns away, thumbs the bottom of Tim’s ribcage while he seems to collect his thoughts. “I changed into some civvies when I saw you go into the bar. Wasn’t sure if you were there to meet a contact or…. Whatever.”

Tim leans up again, catches Jason’s mouth in a quick kiss. “Was this…. Whatever?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason smiles then shakes his head. “No… no, I mean I never thought I had a chance. With you I mean. Thought I’d just come around and take the piss. Maybe see what you were up to, try and get in on it.”

“I think you managed to uh, get in on it.”

Jason laughs and kisses the top of Tim’s head.

Tim just had sex with Jason. They had sex. They fucked. They did a lot more than fucking. Tim feels calm and loose like he could sink into the mattress and float away. He’s not a virgin anymore, not that the concept ever matteed. But here, with Jason, he feels like they’ve crossed some invisible line together and for it, Tim feels grateful. He’d build sex up in his head so much, truly studied for it like an exam or a mission, and here it was as silly and ungraceful as possible. Much like his feelings.

“Jason, thanks.”

“I’m that good of a fuck you wanna thank me?” Jason scratches at the shaved side of his hair, shoots Tim a lopsided smile.

“Fuck your ego, Jason.” Tim punches his shoulder with no real force or heat. “I mean it, thank you. For making this feel okay.”

“I just wanted to have a good time.” Jason runs his fingers through his hair. He looks uncharacteristically nervous. “I mean, with you. A good time for both of us.”

In a blur, Tim pushes Jason down and swings his legs over the larger man to straddle his waist. “You know you could have just asked me out on a date, idiot. I’m sure you have my number.”

“This was more fun, yeah?” Jason puts his arms behind his head, looking for all the world to be smug and satisfied. Tim knows better.

Tim leans down and bites Jason’s clavicle, hard. Beneath him, the other man yelps in surprise, growls a bit as Tim licks over the grooves left in Jason’s skin.

“Fuck, what was that for?”

“For not asking me out first!” Tim sits up, still straddling Jason’s hips.

“Go another round with me, and I’ll buy you pancakes in the morning.” Jason smiles, wide and bright. Tim resists the urge to count the light freckles across the bridge of Jason's nose. 

Tim knows better than to refuse such a gracious offer. “As long as you’re a cuddler.”

“I think I can manage that.” Jason pulls Tim down into a kiss.