Disclaimers: If they were mine, I'd be... busy. But they
aren't.

Spoilers: For Young Justice # 52. Takes place during
YJ canon, in an AU-ish way.

Summary: Kon's easy. Tim takes advantage.

Ratings Note: NC-17. No, seriously.

Acknowledgments: Much love to Jack, Reilael, and
Livia for audiencing and many helpful suggestions.

*

Boston is one of those cities that should be more
interesting than it is. Or... Kon isn't sure. It's an *old*
city, and should have a lot of cool stuff, and it *does*,
it's just... it's hard to walk around without feeling a
little uncomfortable. Even the young people look kind
of old, and look at *him* like he's the most annoying
excuse for a teenager ever to fall out of tube.

Granted, some of that is due to the amount of
property damage Young Justice has caused today --
there's a lot of red brick dust floating around
downtown -- but still. Supervillains, damage... these
things *happened*.

And they *had* saved the day.

You'd think he'd get a *few* less scowls. Robin
probably wouldn't.

Maybe he should've put on jeans or something.

It always feels like a lie, though. Like he's pretending
to be someone he isn't. Or... well, it's not like he can't
see the usefulness of a disguise, but he wants it to
*be* a disguise, and only for, like, working purposes.

Otherwise... he doesn't really like the idea of people
looking at him and just assuming he's trying to be
human or something. If someone *does* smile at
him, he wants it to be because they're smiling at
*him*, not at some random -- though attractive --
kid.

Like this guy. He looks a year or two older than...
Kon's *supposed* to be, and really kind of... there's
something *about* the smile. Kon grins back and
waves, and keeps walking. Maybe he'll find a club
or something. Though in *this* city he probably
won't get in anywhere good.

The guy jogs up beside him and matches his pace.
He's got spiky red hair and a scruffy little beard, and
he looks at Kon like he's... not *amused*, but
something. Kon blinks, and takes a closer look.

The guy keeps smiling that weird little smile, and
looks Kon up and down. Slow.

Score.

Kon changes his grin to something a little more
personal. "Hey," he says, and takes one hand out of
his jacket pocket. "I'm --"

"Superboy. I know. You can call me Adam." Adam's
grip is strong and a little rough, and, most
importantly, lasts a little too long.

"Adam. So... anything cool to do in this town?"

Adam looks down and away, just for a second,
before slinging his arm over Kon's shoulders. "I think
we can find *something*."

Adam leads him through the streets until Boston stops
looking like the city-equivalent of some little old lady's
dining room where no one is supposed to actually sit
on the furniture and *starts* looking like a place
where people *live*.

And party.

And Adam has never actually stopped touching him,
either. A thumb rubbing the back of his neck, a
shoulder bump when they cross a street. A *really*
exciting ride on the el. The train car was just crowded
enough to give Kon an excuse to stand that close
behind the guy.

He has a little spider tattooed on the back of his
neck.

They head down a few alleys, Adam's hand on his
wrist.

"Uh..."

Adam smirks back over his shoulder. "Don't worry.
We're almost to the club."

"I wasn't *worried*," he says, in his best
Superboy-has-it-under-control voice. "I was just
wondering if we could... head back to your place."

Adam stops, and looks down and away again
before grinning at him ruefully. "Sorry, man. The
'rents..." He waves a hand.

Kon nods, and has a moment to be grateful --
*again* -- for living alone. "No problem. Still..."

Adam raises an eyebrow.

"There's no one around."

Adam swallows -- noticeably -- and his eyes get
wide.

And Kon has just enough time to wonder if he'd
read all the signals wrong when Adam grins
again.

"You're absolutely right, Superboy. There *isn't*
anyone around." And Adam puts his arms around
Kon's neck and kisses him.

He tastes like something sweet, and kisses
surprisingly softly. The beard scrapes at Kon's chin,
and that thumb is on the back of his neck again.
Kon mms into the kiss and sucks Adam's tongue,
pushing him back against the wall.

"You like that."

"Hmm?"

"Your neck." And Adam strokes him there again,
pushing his thumb into the short hairs. "You like
me rubbing you there."

Kon grins. "Yeah. I do. Now why don't we find out
what *you* like..." He slides a hand between them
and cups Adam through his baggy jeans.

Adam groans and bucks into Kon's palm. "Uh. You
don't have to --"

"I *want* to," he says, and kisses Adam again,
and works his jeans open. Adam is hot and *hard*
under there, and... "Mmm," he says again, and
wraps his hand around Adam's dick.

"Oh... God."

"Been a while?"

"You could say that -- no, don't --"

"Wha...?" He was just going to look down, but...
kissing Adam again is even better, he has to
admit.

Adam's kisses are more insistent now, deeper, and
he thrusts into Kon's fist.

"Yeah..."

Adam's hands tighten on his face, *keeping* Kon
there.

It's cool. He *likes* to kiss. "You want it faster?"

Adam makes a high, whimpering noise against
Kon's mouth and comes in his fist.

"*Nice*, man."

And then Adam laughs, a little weirdly, and bats
Kon's hands away. He gets his pants done up again
in, like, a *second*, and grabs Kon's sticky hand.
And looks at it. And licks and sucks it clean with
fast, efficient little motions that make Kon have to
grab himself with his other hand.

"Dude..."

Adam looks at him seriously for a long moment,
mouth still wrapped around two of Kon's fingers,
and then squeezes Kon's wrist. And bites.

And holds *on* to Kon's fingers while he pushes
Kon's tights down.

He jerks Kon off, just like that, green eyes focused
on Kon's own and teeth digging in to Kon's
fingers.

"Aw, *man*, that's hot."

Adam jerks him harder and faster and Kon can't
keep his eyes open. All he can do is fuck Adam's
tight, callused fist and try to remember to keep the
TK in check, at least until --

"*Adam* --"

Adam bites Kon's fingers harder and Kon comes,
just like that.

When he opens his eyes, Adam is pulling at Kon's
wrist with one hand and just kind of... staring at
the other. Kon grins. "Gonna suck that off, too?"

Adam blinks, and gives him a narrow little smile.
And does it.

But when Kon leans in to kiss him again, he moves
out of reach. "Hey..."

Adam shakes his head and pulls his fingers out of
his mouth with a wet pop. "Sorry. I kinda have to...
get home."

"Parents, right." Kon grins ruefully. "I should
probably get back to my team."

Adam nods at him slowly, and turns his head again.
"See you around, Superboy."

Superboy takes off, feeling Adam's gaze on him
until he's *way* up into the sky.

Maybe Boston isn't so bad.

*

Vegas makes no sense whatsoever in daylight.

Granted, neither do giant hedgehog things from
space, but still. Bart had whipped up a pretty
impressive sandstorm, and then he and Cassie had
pretty much pounded the crap out of them, and
Robin is, like, explaining to the Mayor and the cops
his ideas on what to *do* with the things.

Robin's really frighteningly good at that stuff. And,
well, everything else.

Still. It's pretty much Miller Time for *him*.

Especially since he hasn't gotten carded *once*
since he's been here. Sweet.

Really, so long as he doesn't have to look at all
the casinos and lights from the *outside*, he's
fine.

And it's *hot* out there.

In here... it's cool, and comfortable, and -- okay,
*loud* with all of the slot machine sounds and people
who either look way too happy or *way* too sad,
but Kon's on his fourth margarita, and the waiter
who's bringing them looks pretty damned nice in
that toga.

Kon tells him so.

The guy -- he can't be older than twenty-two or
so -- raises an eyebrow at him. "If you say so, sir.
Can I get you another...?"

Kon grins, and gives the guy a bucket of quarters.

The official types had been *really* generous with
the comps, which was a nice change.

The waiter hands him his margarita with a small
smile that somehow looks a lot *bigger* in his
eyes. Blue eyes.

Blond, floppy hair and... it's a really *nice* smile
in those eyes. And he isn't really going anywhere.

At least... he doesn't seem to wander as much as
all of the *other* guys and girls in togas.

Hmm, Kon thinks to himself, and jerks the arm on
the slot machine again. Cherries, cherries... "Stupid
lemon."

"Bad luck, sir."

The voice is low and respectful and has an accent
Kon can't place, but when he looks up, the waiter
is smiling at him again with his eyes. "You know...
you *can* call me Superboy."

The guy's mouth twitches, once. "Really."

Kon grins. "Really. And I can call you...?"

Another twitch of a smile. "Joseph."

"Not Joe? Joey?"

Joseph leans one hip against the empty stool next
to Kon's. "Only to my friends."

His legs are bare, and lean, and the really kind of
dumb-assed sandals actually look really nice
around those calves. Really kind of *ripped* calves.
Kon looks up slowly. "Let's be friends."

Joseph -- Joey -- smirks at him. "I have a... break
in a few minutes. Why don't I meet you in your
room?"

Kon grins wider. "Great. I'm in --"

"Seven-eighteen, I know. See you." He walks away.

Which is weird, but... well, Kon supposes it makes
sense. Young Justice comes to the hotel where you
work, of *course* you'll know where they're
staying. Robin probably has groupies stationed
outside of *his* room.

Kon gets to his room and is just starting to close
the curtains when there's a knock on the door. He
lets Joey in and goes back to figuring out the
weirdly complicated strings for the blinds.

"You... don't like sunlight?"

"Hunh? Oh, dude, I *love* sunlight, I just... well,
you're from here." He looks back over his shoulder
to find Joey watching him. "Doesn't it ever get
weird? I mean, Vegas seems like such a *night*
town."

Joey looks down and smiles. "You get used to
anything, I suppose."

Kon nods and crosses back to Joey. He's still
looking away, so Kon touches his chin lightly and
turns him back so they're looking at each other.
"Hey."

"Hey," Joey says, and covers Kon's hand with his
own for a moment before sliding it up along Kon's
arm, over his shoulder and onto his neck. Joey's
fingers are rough and feel really *strong*. Waiters'
hands probably have to be.

They feel... "Mmm. I like that."

"Yeah," Joey says, with a kind of dreamy undertone
to his voice, and digs in *hard* to the back of Kon's
neck.

Kon moans and gets closer, bending his head until
his forehead is on Joey's shoulder. He smells like
soap and something... else. It's nice. Kon kisses
him next to the catch of his toga, nice and wet.

Joey gasps quietly and slides his hand up into Kon's
hair, tugging until Kon leans up and in for --

Joey's other hand is on his mouth.

"What else do you like, Superboy?"

Kon licks Joey's fingers and pulls back. "Sex."

Joey smiles. "Really."

"I know, you must be shocked."

"Amazed -- oh."

Kon grins up at Joey from his knees and slides his
hands over those hard, lean legs. And up. "I never
really thought people *could* look hot in togas,
but..." He digs his thumbs into the insides of Joey's
thighs. "It's working for you."

"Uh... Superboy..."

He rubs his thumbs in little circles and Joey
shudders -- once. "You like that?"

"Yes, but -- you --"

Kon slides his hands *up*, and yanks down Joey's
briefs and... touches. "You... shave?" He looks up,
and Joey is gritting his teeth and not -- quite --
looking at him.

"Long... story," he says.

Kon shrugs. "It *feels* nice."

"Oh... yeah. Superboy --"

"It's... mm. Really smooth."

Joey groans and bucks into his touch.

"Hey, hold your toga up for me?"

Joey blinks down at him, eyes wide for just a
moment, and then he nods and pulls the toga up to
his waist.

"Dude, that's fucking..."

"Perverse?" Joey's smirking down at him.

"I was *going* to say sexy." And it is. Joey's got a
nice, hard dick. And the *complete* lack of hair...
Kon shivers. "Okay, maybe a little perverse, too."

Especially with Joey holding the toga up like... like
a girl with a *skirt*, blond hair hanging down over
his face.

It feels like self-defense to grab Joey's dick, and
then it just feels *good*. Hot and hard in Kon's
hand, and it's all even hotter when Joey's hands
spasm and flex around the material of the toga.
Kon squeezes not-*too*-hard and Joey's knuckles
go almost *white*. "You like it hard?"

"S-sometimes -- *fuck* --"

Kon starts to stroke and watches those hands
*flex*, watches those pretty, lean legs start to
tremble.

Joey groans and spreads his legs wider, and he's
obviously just trying to brace himself, but... mm.

Kon cups Joey's balls with his other hand and rolls
them against his palm.

"*Superboy* --"

"I've got you," he says and stops stroking long
enough to get his lips around the head of Joey's
dick.

"Oh *fuck*."

There's a thudding noise, and Kon looks up to see
Joey's head tilted up, pressed back against the
wall. His throat is pale and bare and Kon mms
around his mouthful and jerks faster.

"Superboy. Superboy --" Joey lets go of the toga
with one hand and reaches for Kon, trying to
push him away.

Kon lets him. "Come in my mouth. It's okay."

"Oh God -- *oh* --"

Kon sucks him in as deep as he can with his fist
in the way and Joey makes this hot, high
*strangled* noise and shoots.

Kon hums and swallows, and then lets go, sitting
back on his heels.

Joey's still holding on to the toga with one hand,
but he's kind of... clawing at the wall with the
other. He looks pretty shaky.

"You okay?"

"Nnnn... yeah. Just..." Joey shudders once, all
over, and stands up straight. And looks at Kon with
a weird kind of *searching* expression.

Kon grins.

Joey ducks and turns his head and smiles. "You like
that."

It's almost a question. "Better than those watered-
down drinks you kept giving me."

Joey chokes and blinks and *looks* at him.

Kon grins. "Hey, I won't tell."

"You won't..."

"These places are all about *taking* money. It'd be
kind of weird if they just gave away a *lot* of free
booze."

Joey nods slowly, and then grins, a little quirkily.
And drops gracefully to his own knees, straddling
Kon's thighs. "So."

"Yeah?"

"What *do* you like, Superboy? Specifically."

"Anything man, seriously. I'm pretty easy."

Joey... it's almost a growl, really. And then he cups
Kon's face and kisses him hard, tongue stroking
in *deep*.

Kon holds on to Joey's waist and... and then just
*touches* him, because, wow. Not just the legs.
He's got a really *sweet* little body under that
toga. All muscular and lean.

Joey pulls back and catches Kon's wrists. "My
turn."

"Oh, yeah...?"

"Yes."

Kon grins and twists his hands free, spreading them.
"Feel free."

There's a really nicely *avid* look in Joey's eyes,
and something about it makes Kon feel like he's
being measured, *analyzed*, and it's hot *and*
weirdly familiar, and then Joey pounces, tackling
Kon and rolling them over the floor until Kon's on
his back and Joey's straddling his thighs again.

"Mm. Move forward a little."

Joey raises an eyebrow at him, and shakes his
head.

And pushes up the top of Kon's uniform.

The avid look is back, just for a second, and then
Joey leans in and... licks him. Slowly.

"Dude..."

Kon braces himself on his elbows and watches and
Joey... watches right back.

"You're trying to see what I like the best...?"

Joey closes his eyes and licks his way over to one
of Kon's nipples.

"Mmph. That's good..."

And sucks it.

"That's better."

And *bites* it, and Kon groans and buries his hand
in Joey's hair, which is thick but weirdly dry in a
way he can't put his finger on. And Joey makes a
small sound against his chest and bites *harder*,
and that's the only thing Kon can really focus on.

Though the fingers curling under the waistband of
Kon's tights are pretty damned interesting, too.
"Mm. Joey..."

Joey makes one of those hot little growling sounds
against him and pulls back. For a moment, Kon
thinks he's going to say something, but he just
squeezes his eyes shut and tugs on Kon's tights.

Kon lifts his hips to help and then Joey strokes
Kon's erection through his jockeys. Pets him, only
it's much harder than petting, really. Most people
have to be told to do things hard, but Joey either
knows or doesn't care.

Either way, it's good and hot and *frustrating*,
but that just makes it hotter.

"Joey..."

Joey squeezes him *hard* through his jockeys.

"Oh, *yeah*..."

And he can hear Joey's breathing go a little
ragged, and then he *yanks* Kon's shorts down
wraps one of those strong hands around his dick
and --

"*Fuck*, yeah, suck it, Joey -- *fuck* --"

*Teeth*, and Kon still hadn't figured out how to
even *ask* for that, but he definitely will in the
future. He digs his fingers into the carpeting to
keep from grabbing Joey's ears and bucks.

Joey makes another of those great little noises
and starts to fuck his mouth on Kon's dick, up
and down and up again, and down to where his
fist is holding Kon's dick still and --

Watching him.

"Yeah. Just... just like that..."

Joey hums around him and licks Kon's slit. And
then does it after *every* upstroke, and he's
barely *blinking*.

"Oh yeah. Oh... oh *man*. Your... your eyes..."

And they widen, just for a second, and then Joey
squeezes them shut and *groans* around him
and Kon grunts and comes, before he can warn
Joey off.

"*Fuck*, sorry --"

Joey swallows and coughs and keeps swallowing.

"Oh fuck, that's good..."

Joey squeezes Kon's hip and pulls off, panting.
And wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Mm. Come here..."

Joey lets Kon kiss him, but...

"You're not really into kissing, hunh?"

"What...? I --" And he *did* look confused, just
for a second, but then it's gone and Joey smiles at
him. "I just... have to get back to work."

"Right now?"

Joey's lashes dip down, and Kon knows he's
looking at his mouth. "Um."

Kon grins and leans in for another kiss, but Joey
stops him with a hand on his chest. And looks him
in the eye again.

"Sorry."

"No problem. I'll just --" Look for you in the casino
later, he was going to say, but something about
the way Joey dresses -- fast, and not looking at
Kon at *all* -- just kind of stops that thought.

Joey grins back at him once, over his shoulder, and
Kon waves and watches him go.

*

Gotham City is one of the most intensely fucked-up
places on earth, and most of the time he's just fine
with the way Robin would rather they stay the hell
*out* -- Gotham doesn't even feel like an
*American* city. It doesn't even feel like a *human*
city. It's dark even in the day, and full of freaky
gargoyles and freakier heroes.

Still, the crazy supervillain chick who made all the
earthquakes *led* them here, all the way from
Rhode Island, and it's not like Gotham needed
*another* earthquake, so Robin had barely even
protested about YJ invading his territory.

Not for more than twenty minutes, anyway.

And Kon has to admit, every time he gets to
actually *not* screw up where Batman might see
him -- and doesn't he know *everything* that
goes on in this city? -- he feels a little lighter.

The old-school heroes can be kind of... stressful.

Of course, there *are* good things about Gotham.
Like the fact that you can pretty much get into
*any* club, no matter how old you do or don't
look. He guesses that the cops pretty much have
too many other things to worry about.

Whatever.

*This* club is playing some *nice* music, and a
few people call out to him and grin, and the beer
cost five bucks, but it's actually pretty decent,
and... it's a good night.

He hits the dance floor and pretty much stays
there. Part of him wonders what Robin is up to
with his bizarre little family, but a) Robin probably
doesn't need *his* help, b) Robin definitely
doesn't *want* his help, and c) none of the rest of
them react well to metahumans working their turf,
anyway.

Slacking off is the better part of valor, and the chick
he's been dancing with for the past few songs is
really kind of *smoking*.

In a weird way. She's on the short side, and she
isn't really *curvy*, and he can't really *see* a lot
of her face -- her hair is dark and kind of hangs --
but... there are other things. Like the way she
*moves*.

The dress is short and tight and strapless and
leather, and her legs are really *long* for a girl
her height and -- she moves like she might stop
dancing and start fighting at any given moment. Or
maybe it's more like she wants to make sure nobody
bothers her who couldn't keep *up* with her. Or...
something. She moves like she could kick his *ass*,
and so he's been a little hesitant about touching
her, but she doesn't actually *do* anything.

Anything bad.

She grins at him, just a flash of white teeth in the
strobing lights, and spins around to show Kon her
lean, pale back. She really is *skinny* for a girl,
and when he -- tentatively -- puts one hand on her
waist and the other hand on her shoulder, he can
feel a scar against his palm.

More scars when he *moves* his palm.

She really *is* a fighter. He has no idea why this
is making him hotter, but he's going to go with it
right up until she decides to stop dancing and go
ninja on his ass or something.

And *speaking* of ass....

Okay, he was wrong. She *is* curvy in *one*
place. One really, *really* good place, snugged-up
tight against his hips and *grinding*. And he can
take a hint.

He holds on to her waist and grinds right back, and
who cares if the music doesn't really suit it? She
feels... Kon slides one hand over her front, or tries
to -- she catches his wrist in one weirdly hard (judo?
probably judo.) hand and drags it right back to her
hip.

He can take *orders*, too.

And... damn. He can *definitely* take orders when
they feel *this* good. She just keeps driving back
against him, hips moving in these hot, tight little
circles and she either doesn't care that Kon's
rock-hard under his tights or she *likes* it that
way. Either of which he can work with.

And then she raises her arms and leans back,
reaching up and back to wrap them around his
neck, and Kon decides to go with 'likes it' and
keeps moving. Though if this keeps up, *not*
moving will stop being an option pretty soon.

He doesn't even know her *name*.

He leans in to press his mouth against her ear,
nosing aside dark hair. This close, she smells like
sweat and perfume and she's still *moving* and
it takes a while to remember that he'd wanted to
*do* something.

"Uh..." *Real* smooth.

"Yes, Superboy?"

Her voice sends a shiver right through him. It's
throaty and weirdly *sweet* and... "What's your
name?"

"You can call me Marianne," she says, and "that
isn't what you wanted to ask."

He tightens his hands on her hips, and she makes
a little humming sound. Hard to hear over the
music, but this close he can *feel* it, but... "No?"

"No." He can feel her face move, and knows she's
smiling. "You want to ask me if we can go
somewhere."

"I do, hunh?"

She rocks back *hard*, and Kon can't hold in a
grunt. "Yeah," she says. "You do."

"Marianne... do you have someplace where we can
go?"

"No."

"What --"

She twists out of his grasp and turns, leaning up to
kiss him fast before grabbing his wrist. "There *is*
a place where we *can* go."

She pulls. Kon follows.

The 'place' turns out to be a down a dark, grungy
little hallway, past the bathrooms and... into a
room. She closes the door behind them and it's
*pitch* black.

"Marianne...?"

There's a click, and a bare, weak bulb comes on.
The room is actually *painted* black, too, but it's
still more light than he's seen her in all night. And
she's... she looks *wild*, dark hair a little tangled
and screening her eyes, and her *lips* are painted
black. A deeper, darker, wetter black.

"Here?"

She nods, and her teeth are shockingly white in
contrast. Kon leans in and kisses her, and her
mouth is soft and wet and her teeth feel sharper
than they can possibly be on Kon's lip.

He steps closer, but she stops him with a hand on
his chest. And sucks his lower lip hard before
pulling back. And turns around.

She braces one hand on the cracked and peeling
paint of the wall and uses the other to yank up her
dress. Her panties are black, too, and lacy, and
she pushes them down before he gets the time
to *appreciate* them. Not all the way, though.
Just far enough that the waistband cups the lowest
curves of her ass.

Her round, pale, *gorgeous* ass, and... she's
stroking it. She's stroking her *own ass* and Kon
*knows* he looks like a dumbass, but he can't
stop staring as that hard hand -- black fingernails,
too, she has -- slides up and up and --

Kon looks up.

She's grinning at him over her shoulder.

"Uh..."

"Like this," she says. "Please."

"Anything you *want*."

He cups her ass and kisses the back of her neck,
squeezes and kisses his way up over her jaw and
nuzzles her cheek. She moans quietly, and Kon
kisses her. It's an awkward position, but her
mouth is soft and she tastes faintly sweet.

And then she bites his lip again and *pushes*
back against his hands.

"Now," she says.

Kon groans and bites the place where her neck
meets her shoulder, *sucks* there, and spreads
her open, and he means to just see how *tight*
she is, but... slick.

*Slick*.

"You -- uh."

"I knew what I wanted, Superboy. What about
you?"

He groans again and slides in a finger, and she
*grunts* and pushes back on it.

"Yes -- yes --"

He fucks her with it, holding her open with his
free hand, and --

"*More* --"

He comes back with two, and she whines high in
her throat and scratches at the wall. She's *tight*,
but she'd done a *really* good job with the slick
and... fuck, he can *picture* it. He feels himself
shooting pre-come in his pants and tries to be at
least a *little* gentle.

"Fuck me. *Fuck* me --"

"Trying... I'm trying not to *hurt* you --"

She *growls*, and it's a low, sexy *animal*
sound and Kon twists his fingers and fucks her
harder, trying to make her do it again. She pants
and works herself back and Kon *twists* harder
and she *screams*.

"Jesus, sorry --"

"Don't *stop*, Superboy --"

"I won't. I -- oh, *fuck*, you're sexy. All those
*scars*..."

She whimpers and bends her head and spreads
her legs and Kon can't wait.

He pulls out and shoves his tights down, twitching
at the feel of his own bare fingers on his dick,
and pushes in. One long, slow-as-he-can-make-it
*push*, and Marianne pants and groans and
*tenses*.

"Breathe. You have to..."

She makes a *strangled* sound, and it reminds
him of -- of *something*, but he can't hold on to it,
because she's tight and *hot* and *flexing* around
him, because he can smell her -- smell *both* of
them. Sex and sweat, and, she takes a deep,
hitching breath and her exhale comes out on
another whimper.

Kon strokes her shoulders and grits his teeth
against the need to *move*, and she whimpers
*again*, and... struggles. Or... no. She's bracing
her hands against the wall, and her head hangs
even lower.

There's a tiny, tiny tattoo of a star just beneath
the lowest edge of her hairline, and for some
reason Kon thinks of spiders, and then she turns
her head and *looks* at him.

"Do it," she says, and her voice is still really
sweet, but now it's kind of *low*, and Kon's hips
move before he can think about it, before he can
do anything but *do* it, and she cries out every
time he pushes in and gasps every time he pulls
out.

"Oh God... oh God you feel good --"

She shakes her head in nothing *like* a 'no,' and
matches his rhythm effortlessly, still crying out
with every thrust, and Kon doesn't think he could
stop if someone shot him with a Kryptonite
*bullet*.

"*Fuck* --"

"Yes -- *please* --"

And Kon watches her bite her lip, and her eyes
are squeezed shut beneath the fringe of her hair and
Kon -- "I want to touch you. I want... there's
something about --"

When she opens her eyes, they're wide and blue
and desperate and *naggingly* familiar and Kon
can't *stop*. He grabs her thin, hard hips and
*pulls* her into the next thrust.

And the next. And every one *after* that, and she
balls one hand into a fist and beats at the *wall*
and that's just -- he can't *stop*, but he takes one
 hand off her hip and covers *her* hand with it.

"Oh, Superboy... oh *God* --"

And she jerks and shudders and flexes *hard*
around him. She just *came*, and it's the
sexiest -- just so --

He leans in and licks the star on her neck, tasting...
*something*, but  she shivers, and then he just
*sucks* her there and fucks her *hard*, holding
her hips still with one hand and the TK.

"Superboy... you... oh, you feel so *good* --"

Kon comes, gasping and shaking, and trying not
to squeeze her hand too hard.

He *knows* he squeezed her hip too hard.

He kisses her neck and tries to remember how to
breathe.

She... wriggles. And moans.

"Easy. Let me..."

She stills, and Kon lets go of her hand and strokes
her hips. Smooth skin and a *lot* of scars, and
Kon's dick twitches inside her and she gasps.

"You're so sexy..."

She turns her head, flipping her hair out of the
way, and smiles at him. A really warm, gentle,
*satisfied* smile. And... he *has* to. Just...
*feel* her.

He pulls out as slow as he can and strokes her
ass, watching her eyes flutter closed. He slips a
gentle finger into her cleft, touching her hot,
wet hole and it's his own come, right *there*,
and it's just so easy to slip it *forward* and --
tape? "What...?"

She freezes, eyes flying open and legs slamming
*closed* around his hand, trapping it, and...
that's a *lot* of tape, holding her -- his --

"Hey --"

And then she spreads his -- her -- *his* -- legs
again, and *pushes* Kon's hand out of the way,
laughing hysterically and twisting away from the
wall --

"Wait, wait -- I don't --"

Mind, he was going to say, but she -- *he* -- is
already out of the little room.

Kon doesn't chase him. Her.

Gotham's just too damned freaky.

*

Mr. Sarcastic.

Mister... freaking... *Sarcastic*.

And, okay, he knew Robin was a freak, but...
wow.

The flaming cape *alone*. The flaming cape with
an *ermine collar*, and Kon knows he's staring,
but he *also* knows he's not the only one.

"I've never seen so many jaws hit the floor at
once. You guys didn't really think I was *dead*,
did you?"

Dead...? What? There's a nasal edge to Robin's
voice that really grating on Kon. Or maybe it's
the colors of "Mr. Sarcastic's" uniform. Jesus.

"C'mon, *people*. We've got television to make!"

And Mr. Sarcastic -- *Robin* -- claps his hands
at them.

Kon thinks about using the TK to dump him out
the window. But... the cameras are rolling, and
money is money.

Later, he promises himself.

And really, it isn't a *bad* day. Ace Atchinson
spends the whole time pretending he knew all
*along* that Mr. Sarcastic was a founding
member of Young Justice, digging himself deeper
and deeper as he 'reminisces' about the guy's
great adventures.

Cassie spends the whole day trying and failing
not to bust out laughing, and really, Kon hadn't
known her nose could twitch like that.

And Bart... heh.

*Bart* spends the whole day zipping in out of
nowhere, apparently solely to poke at the mesh
on Mr. Sarcastic's t-shirt.

Really, he can't blame the guy. There's more
skin showing -- fake tatts and all -- than any of
them have *ever* seen on Robin. And that
includes the times when his suit's gotten all
ripped up in a fight.

And... mm. He'd *known* Robin had a sweet
little body under there, but something about all
that bare skin...

Kon frowns to himself. There's something... He
*hates* deja vu.

Eventually, all of the TV people are gone, leaving
behind an impressive amount of litter. He's a little
surprised by the fact that he *wants* to clean,
but... well. There's a difference when it's *their*
mess.

He uses the TK to crush a pile of fast food
wrappers, papers, and other stuff into a small ball
and... there.

"Nothin' but net," he mutters to himself.

And there's applause. "You can be the first
metahuman in the NBA."

Mr. Sarcastic. Kon shakes his head. "Man, that
voice is *annoying.*"

He snorts. "I think it suits the persona."

Kon rolls his eyes and moves the pillows around on
the couch. "Whatever, dude. The outsiders are all
gone. You can *stop* now."

Kon sits down and puts his feet up, and looks over
to find Robin watching him. It's a Robin look, and
it's a Robin *smirk*, but...

"You really don't look *anything* like yourself.
How do you *do* that?"

Robin ducks and turns his head and grins at the
floor. "Practice."

"Uh, huh." Kon pats the couch. "C'mon, share
your secrets."

Robin gives him a long, weirdly glittery look and
joins him.

Kon pokes at the mesh. Sweet, *hard* little body.

Robin gives him another look, and his eyes are...
his eyes probably aren't, actually hazel.

"What color are your eyes?"

"Hazel."

"Your *real* eyes, dumbass."

Robin... blinks. "You can tell?"

"What? No. I just figured there's no way you'd go
around without... contacts." Tattoos. Smirking. That
head-turned *smile*.

That *body*.

Kon blinks and stares.

"Kon...?"

"Jesus fucking *CHRIST*!"

Robin smirks. "*Someone* just caught a clue." Mr.
Sarcastic voice.

Kon jumps up and staggers off the couch. "You --
you -- what the *fuck*?"

"Well..."

"No! Use your *real* voice, asshole, or I swear to
God I will *hurt* you."

Robin blinks. Pauses. And takes off the weird little
sunglasses and *rips* off the goatee. "Satisfied?"

"*No*, I'm not fucking satisfied! We've been
having sex and I didn't even *know* it!"

"But you had a good time."

"A good... what... *what*? That was *you*. Every
fucking *time* and -- GAH!" It feels like his eyes
are trying to fall out of his head. It feels like his
*mind* is trying to fall out of his head, and Robin's
just sitting there, calmly... "You giant *freak*!"

Robin raises an eyebrow.

Kon points. "No! You are *totally* a freak. Don't
raise that eyebrow at me. You're the freakiest freak
in the entire freaking UNIVERSE!"

"For having sex with you?"

"No, not for -- are you *insane*?"

"Kon --"

"How many times."

"A few."

"How *many*?"

"Boston."

"Adam."

"Vegas."

"*Joey*. That fucking *toga* --"

"You seemed to like the toga..."

"Shut *up*. Where *else*?"

"Tacoma."

"Angelo? You -- fuck. You didn't let me touch your
face. The makeup..." Kon groans and covers his face
with his hands.

"Kon... I didn't think you'd... mind."

Kon looks up and Robin looks -- *finally* -- a little
uncomfortable. "You didn't think -- you -- *argh*!
Where *else*?"

"Keystone."

"*Jamal*?!"

"Batman developed a better grade of makeup."

"I have to sit down. I have to -- wait. No. Keep
going. That was you in Gotham, wasn't it?"

Robin *grins* at him. "I was pretty convincing,
hunh?"

"Well... actually, yeah. Right up until..."

"The tape. Now *that* was painful."

Kon squints and shakes his head. "*Why*?"

Robin shrugs. "I knew I could go *out* as a
woman, but... well. I had to test it. And... I liked
the way you danced." Another one of those
glittery looks, and it would be...

It would be really *easy* to get distracted,
because Kon had never even let himself *think*
of Robin this way, except that he'd had him.
Sucked him, jerked him, fucked him...

Kon bites his lip and the glittery look gets even...
glitterier.

"Rob..."

"Come back to the couch."

Kon takes a step and -- "Jesus, man, *no*. Keep
going. Where *else*?"

"There *isn't* anywhere else. It's not like I've
been *stalking* you."

"Not like..." He's not even going to *touch* that
one. "Houston. That was you. That was *totally*
you."

"No, that guy just *looked* like me."

"You -- what -- I don't even *know* what you
look like! And you *watched*?"

"Kon. You've seen my entire body --"

"In *pieces*. You never --"

"You've seen my *face* --"

"Beards! *Makeup*!"

"You --"

"God fucking *dammit*, Robin! I'm not the detective
here, okay? I didn't even know there was anything
to *detect*. If you're going to play fucking *games*
with me, you can at least give me a hint about what
the rules are!"

Robin looks at him.

Kon breathes.

"You... may have a point."

"Oh, that's really fucking big of you, man. I'm out."

He doesn't bother with the door, just flies out of
the window and up.

He's not...

And Robin was going to do it *again*. As Mr.
Fucking *Sarcastic* this time, like maybe he'd
smirk when Kon was fucking his *mouth*.

It isn't fair that the thought's a turn-on, because...
It isn't fucking *fair*. It's freaky and sick that
he's been all but *living* with Robin every
damned weekend, and fighting at his side, and
the whole time...

God, he had to be *laughing* at him. The big,
stupid slut who'd fuck anything who smiled at
him -- especially if they were short and lean
and --

Kon heads for the woods and aims himself at a
tree.

And another one.

And another.

And... okay, maybe he shouldn't be deforesting
Rhode Island, but he has to do *something*, and
he can't actually beat Robin to death. Maybe.

He just can't get away from the *images*, even
though he knows they're wrong. 'Angelo's'
strong, rough hand -- how hadn't he noticed the
*hands*? -- around his dick and Joey's lean,
strong legs, and Marianne's...

God, her *scars*.

Robin's hands, Robin's legs, Robin's... scars.

Kon shudders and wraps his arms around himself.
He doesn't fucking *get* it. All he'd been
doing...

He was a *teenager* -- sort of. And sex is *fun*,
and you weren't supposed to *do* it with your
team-mates -- no more than flirting, anyway,
because that would mess things up.

He was trying to be *good*, and Robin had
just...

Kon's never going to be able to wander through
a city without wondering about every short,
lean -- *person* who smiles at him.

He's never going to stop being disappointed
when -- if? -- they *aren't* Robin. Twisted,
freaky *Robin*. Who... smiled at him after Kon
had *fucked* him, like he'd really...

("I knew what I wanted.")

But who the fuck knew if that smile was *real*?

Kon squeezes his eyes shut and takes off for
home.

No *way* he can deal with the rest of the team
right now.

*

TV sucks. TV *always* sucks, cable or no cable,
but it feels especially insulting to have to put up
with Beastmaster II being on *two* channels.

Kon glares at the screen and keeps flipping.
News, news, talk show, news, seventeen *different*
talk shows, and no, he really does *not* want to
watch anyone whine about their problems with their
boyfriends, girlfriends, or what-the-fuck-*ever*
right now.

At least THEY know what the person they're fucking
*looks* like.

The doorbell rings. Pizza. *Early*, but whatever,
he's due for some good news today. Maybe it'll
even be --

"Hi."

Hot. Kon blinks. There's a short-ish, lean,
dark-haired guy with blue eyes standing outside
the door of his apartment. He's wearing jeans
and a t-shirt and what looks like boots. He has a
jaw-line Kon has seen a thousand times and
kissed a lot, too.

He's left marks on that throat. Kon breathes.
"Who are you?"

"You know --"

"No, I don't. Contacts? A fake nose? Hell, for all I
know you've just been wearing a *better* wig
than Cassie had."

Robin winces. "I'm not. I haven't. You can..."

"I can *what*, R -- and what the fuck do I *call*
you anyway? This time. You look like a Bill. Or
maybe a freaking *Devon*."

"Tim. My name's Tim."

Kon stares at him.

"I'm not... I'm not sure how to prove that in a
way you'll believe. The other stuff..." Robin reaches
out and wraps his hand around Kon's wrist --
gently. And pulls Kon's hand up to his own face,
uncurling Kon's fingers out of the fist he didn't
know he'd made and pressing his face to Kon's
palm.

He can feel Robin's breath. He can feel... skin.
The nose feels like it's attached. There's a hint of
stubble on his chin. And his hair...

"You weren't... you weren't wearing a wig as
Marianne."

"No. I just... changed the style. And my eyes...
I'd really prefer it if you didn't poke me in the
eye." Robin's smile is small and...

He wants to believe it. That has to be the
lousiest part of this. Kon turns around and walks
back into his apartment, kicking aside a small pile
of clothes.

He hears Robin close the door behind them and
sits back on the couch. And turns off the TV. Kon
can't look at him directly. He...

He can see Robin out of the corner of his eye,
just sort of standing there. "Why are you here?"

"To apologize."

Kon closes his eyes. "Just tell me *why* you did
it."

"I had... a lot of reasons. Kon --"

"Make a list. I'm listening."

There's a pause, and Kon opens his eyes. Tim --
Robin has his arms folded, and he's looking down
at the floor, and he isn't smiling. He's... he looks
just like an incredibly well-built teenager, except
for his hands. His hands look older. And then he
looks up at Kon, looks him in the eye.

"*Tell* me."

"At first... it was a while ago. I was still learning
how to do the disguise thing. That first time --"

"Adam."

"Yeah. I thought... I kind of thought you'd know
me."

"With red hair and a freaking *spider* on your
neck."

Tim looks at the floor again. "I guess... there
were other reasons."

"Yeah?"

"You... when I realized you *didn't* know me,
that I was just... some guy you felt like flirting
with..." He shrugs. "I flirted back."

"You did more than *flirt*."

"Yeah. I... wasn't expecting to."

"You..." And he remembers. The pauses. The
shock. "Jesus. You didn't have to --"

"I told myself I was staying in character."

"*Christ*, Robin!"

A rueful smile. "It didn't hurt that it felt really,
really good."

Kon breathes. "And that's... the other times. Is
that why?"

"I was just going to look out for you in Vegas.
Make sure you were... okay."

"Watered-down drinks. Fuck. I thought..."

"That the casino was cheap. I know." Robin
crosses his arms a little tighter. "They really
weren't. And then... you have this way of looking
at... at someone you want to have sex with."

Kon puts his head in his hands. "You were hot.
You..." You're always hot.

"Yeah. And then... well. It was a *thing*.
Something I could... have. And tell myself I was
just improving my disguises."

Kon squeezes his eyes shut behind his hands. "I
just don't... why *me*, Rob?"

There's a hand on his wrist again. He didn't even
feel Tim -- Robin. He didn't feel him moving.
"Kon..."

Kon opens his eyes and moves his hands and
looks at Robin. He's crouching on the floor next
to him. Looking up. His mouth looks... "What? Tell
me *why*."

"You... I didn't think you'd *care*. There were...
there were always so many people, so many men
and women in *every* city we went to. And I
thought I could just... blend in. I didn't think... I
didn't think you'd remember."

"How..." Kon frowns. "How could I forget someone I
had *sex* with? Christ, what... I mean, do *you*?"

Robin looks down. "You're the only one."

"What...?"

"You were... you were *safe*, and. The only one I --"
He swallows, audibly. "I wish you'd call me Tim."

It's hard to breathe. "You -- you could've. I would...
I was *always* attracted to you."

Tim squeezes his wrist for a moment before letting
go. "This way, I could... and you could just keep
being with whoever you wanted. And I could be...
myself. A little at a time."

Kon reaches out before he can stop himself, and
Tim's hair is soft and thick and slides through his
fingers and Tim *shivers* and then he can't let go.
"And this is... all at once."

"Yeah."

"Look at me."

He does, and he looks... blank. Except for his eyes,
which are kind of tight at the edges, and the hard
line of his mouth.

"Tim."

"Yes."

"You... are really scarily fucked-up, man."

Tim cuts his eyes away and one corner of his mouth
turns up. "Probably."

"Tim --"

And then he ducks his head, twisting out of the grip
Kon has on his hair, and stands, backing away. "I
should get out of here. I just wanted... to apologize.
If I'd thought..." Tim scrubs a hand through his hair.
"I didn't think. I'm going --"

"Nowhere. You're going *nowhere*."

Tim stops, halfway across the room, and Kon can
*see* how tense he is. It's in the line of his
shoulders. "Kon --"

"I thought you were *laughing* at me, man."

Tim flinches. "I wasn't. I was... it was a game. It
wasn't... that much of a game."

"You wanted me."

"Yes."

"You... that club. You went there, and you were
all... and you'd never..."

"No."

"*Tim*. You're... I don't know if I'm turned on or
terrified."

Tim laughs, but he doesn't actually relax. "I'm...
getting that."

"I don't... want to be scared of you."

"I don't want you to be scared of me."

Kon gets up and closes the distance between
them. Carefully. Sets his hands on Tim's shoulders
and thinks about scars. Thinks about... "What
*do* you want."

"You already know --"

"You were being in *character*. I don't even
know what you --"

"When you were... when you were inside me, I
came... my dick was taped to my stomach and my
balls were taped to *that* and you still made me
come so *hard* --"

"Oh, God..."

Tim shivers and Kon squeezes his shoulders and
tries not to -- he doesn't want to try. He moves his
hands to Tim's waist instead, and pushes up under
his t-shirt and... skin. *Scars*.

"Tim..."

Tim takes that last half-step back until he's pressed
to Kon from his shoulders to... all the way *down*.
Kon rocks forward helplessly and slides his hands
up to Tim's nipples. Tim's *hard* nipples.

"You liked... you liked it when I fucked you --"

"*Yes*."

"And... what else? What else did you like?"

"Your hands... they're so -- *oh* --"

Kon pinches Tim's nipples again, a little harder.
"Like that?"

"Kon --" Tim reaches back and grabs Kon's thighs,
digging in *hard* with his fingers and --

"You're holding on to me..."

"I can't... you feel..."

Kon bends and kisses the back of Tim's neck,
where all the different weird tattoos *aren't*. Just
a tiny little mole, and the feel of Tim shaking under
his mouth, against him. "You like my mouth."

"*Please*, Kon --"

"I want -- I want -- oh, *fuck*, Tim." Kon pulls
Tim back against him hard, just like in that club,
only now Tim isn't hiding anything, he's letting Kon
touch him all *over*, and Tim tilts his head back
and rests it on Kon's shoulder and digs in even
*harder* with his fingers when Kon starts working
on his fly.

Inside and... boxers. Cotton boxers.

Kon laughs to himself, more than a little broken to
his own ears.

"I don't own that many pairs of panties."

"We can go shopping," he says, and pushes the
shorts down and wraps his fist around Tim's dick
and -- hair. "*Why* were you shaved that time?"

"Kept dyeing it down there after... oh God, harder,
Kon, please --"

"I've got you --"

Tim groans and turns his head on Kon's shoulder
and pants against his neck. "Kon."

"Tell me... the dye..."

"Nnn..." Tim takes one hand off Kon's thigh and
reaches between them, yanking and working at
Kon's fly. "I kept dyeing it. To match -- *fuck* --
my wig. Or the dye in my hair. It fell out... take
these off. Help me, I want --"

Kon groans and manages to stop stroking Tim's
pubes long enough to help get his pants open.
He *can't* stop jerking Tim's dick and Tim
*squeezes* him and Kon squeezes Tim and grunts
and rubs his thumb along the slick, slick head of
his dick. "I want to suck you. I want to see your
face when you're fucking my mouth --"

Tim gasps and squeezes him again and comes, all
over his fist. "Kon..."

"God, you turn me on so much --"

And Tim lets go and twists in his arms and kisses
him. He kisses with his eyes open, but Kon can't
leave *his* that way, as much as he wants to. He
just... he has to *focus*, because Tim's tongue is
slick and fast and familiar and Tim's hand is
*rough* on Kon's dick and Tim's other hand is on
his neck, rubbing and stroking and pressing.

Kon gasps. "I like that I -- you *know* --"

"Yes," Tim says, and kisses him again, hard and
*brief*, and drops to his knees and sucks him
*in*. Kon feels something seize up and die inside
of himself and looks down and...

Tim.

*Looking* at him, and his hair is sweaty and
mussed and falling over one eye, and Kon
reaches down to brush it back. And then he just
has to brace himself on Tim's shoulders, because
Tim looks *naked*.

"Tim. You -- oh *fuck* --"

Barely *blinking*, and sucking Kon *hard* and --
stopping. "I hated it. I hated it when you called
me by those names. I wanted..." And Tim growls
and sucks him in again and Kon's *knees* are
shaking and he's putting *way* too much weight
on Tim, but Tim just...

Hums around him.

And goes down all the way to his fist and uncovers
his *teeth* on the way back up.

"Tim. *Tim* --"

Tim strokes Kon's hip with his other hand and slides
around to squeeze his ass and... fingers. In his
cleft.

"Oh *fuck*, Tim, *yes* --"

Tim pushes in with one -- has to be his thumb, and
Kon can't --

"*Tim* --"

His hips *jerk* and Tim makes a low, strangled
little -- Kon comes *groaning*, shaking, and only
manages to keep his feet until Tim pulls back and
pulls *out*. And then he just drops, falling half on
Tim and sending them both to the floor.

Tim shifts under him and Kon bites his throat.

"*Oh* -- I just -- I wanted to get into... better
position --"

Kon moans against Tim's skin and rolls them over
until he's on his back. And doesn't let go. He bites
the other side of Tim's throat, instead, and Tim
jerks and moans.

"Kon. Yes..."

He stops sucking when he can, and Tim gasps
once, twice, and leans in and kisses him.

And then pulls back and shifts until he can push
his face against Kon's neck.

Kon strokes his back and tries to remember how
to be a person who breathes and thinks and does
things with his mouth that don't involve sucking
and biting and... he gives up and squeezes Tim
until he gasps again.

He really should apologize for that. He... really
can't stop thinking about Tim's *thumb*.

"I want you to fuck me."

"I want to, Kon. And I want... I want you to do
me. Again."

Kon's dick twitches between them and Tim...
presses down. "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"We... talk. Thing."

He can feel Tim smiling against his throat. "Okay."

He tries again. "Tim."

Tim braces his hands on either side of Kon's head
and looks at him. "You never hide. Not ever. I..."
Tim shifts to lean on one elbow and strokes Kon's
face with his free hand. "I hide all the time."

"But not now."

"No."

"You don't have to hide with me, Tim."

And Tim's face... it doesn't *crumple*. It just
tightens, all over, for one fast, terrifying heartbeat.
And then he presses it against Kon's throat again.
"I know," he says.

Kon closes his eyes and holds on. *He* knows
what that means. Or... he sort of does. He's had
years to get used to the idea that he really wouldn't
ever *know* Robin at all. And all of this... knowing
more doesn't mean understanding more, except
when it does, a little, and...

And... maybe it won't be a terrible thing to look for
Tim in all of the short-ish, lean, muscular people
he sees. To play that game.

After all, he knows the rules now.

Sort of.

He grins to himself, more than a little ruefully, and
strokes Tim's back. Listens to him breathe, and
feels it, and, tries not to think about much of
anything.

It isn't difficult.

Tim shifts above him, but doesn't actually try to
move.

It isn't difficult at all, really.

end.

Author's Note: I've been thinking -- a lot -- about
what it might say about Tim that he chooses the
disguises and aliases that he does -- as opposed to
creations like 'Matches Malone,' and 'Generic Yet
Desperately Dangerous Homeless Woman.' He can
be... just a bit flamboyant.

Which is, of course, not the *real* him...

Title from Terri Apter:

"One of the main tasks of adolescence is to achieve
an identity--not necessarily a knowledge of who we
are, but a clarification of the range of what we
might become, a set of self-references by which we
can make sense of our responses, and justify our
decisions and goals."