And sometimes discerned
by Weirdness Magnet and Te
August 3, 2004

Disclaimers: If they were ours, you wouldn't see
us very often.

Spoilers: Vague -- very vague -- mentions of
events in Impulse and Teen Titans.

Summary: Bart knows what he wants. Tim's
helpful. Kon approves.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Authors' Note: Te's not entirely sure how this
happened. Weirdness Magnet recalls that sock
puppets were involved in its creation, and is still
somewhat traumatized.

Title from a James Baldwin quote:

"Identity would seem to be the garment with which
one covers the nakedness of the self: in which case,
it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the
robes of the desert, through which oneís nakedness
can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned. This
trust in one's nakedness is all that gives one the
power to change one's robes."

*

In a lot of ways, having a hyperspeed metabolism
completely sucks.

Getting notes sent home from his teachers because
he can't sit still in class is an annoyance more than
anything else, because Grandpa Jay understands,
but he still doesn't like the disapproving looks his
teachers give him.  Having to eat what seems like
every few minutes isn't easy either, and he feels a
guilty pang every time he thinks about that receipt
he found from the last time Grandma Joan went
grocery shopping.

"I don't try to fill the boy up," Bart overheard her
tell Jay once.  "I just try to keep him from starving."
She was putting away a massive pile of groceries
that Bart knows they really couldn't afford and
there was a grin in her voice.  Bart makes a note
to do something *really* nice for her next
Mother's Day.

The healing factor is the biggest annoyance.  Had
Vic not hauled metallic ass to get Bart to the
hospital, his knee might have healed back
completely wrong.  As it was, it had only
*partially* healed back wrong in the time it had
taken to get from Alcatraz.

And a high pain threshold doesn't actually make up
for the fact that the doctors *cut* into Bart's leg
and replaced his kneecap.  The metabolism that
made the cutting necessary also meant that no
amount of drugs in the world could make it hurt
less.

To top it off, his stupid metabolism meant his
tattoo lasted all of thirty seconds.

Though, looking back, Bart thinks he probably
shouldn't have gotten a Green Lantern symbol.
The logic of his choice made sense to him at the
time, but tattoos are supposed to have
*meaning*.  He's read about how tattoos in
some primitive cultures reveal the entire life of
a person, marks of authority and social rank.
And while he doesn't exactly have *rank*, he figures
that if he gets a permanent mark on his body it
ought to at least have personal significance.

It's irrelevant, anyway; his immune system instantly
attacks anything it identifies as "foreign."  No
tattoo, scar, or piercing will last on him.

Bart sits at his desk and pulls out the doodle he
started in math class.  He'd really like to get this
design done.  He thought about getting it on his
lower back, but he liked watching the artist work
when he'd gotten the Lantern done.

And the sketch... Kon's shield with the yellow "R"
of Robin's uniform at the center, but with Bart's
own jagged lightning bolt as the long line of the
"R."  He likes the idea of watching *this* design
take shape, line and shading appearing beneath
the thin sheen of his blood.

He ignores his math homework in favor digging
through a drawer for his colored pencils.  He
only has the basic colors here, but it's enough
to give the sketch some depth.  He's not much
of an artist; he's read dozens of books on
technique, but he can never make the colors
come out exactly right.  Tim can do *amazing*
things with the most basic art supplies.  Bart
debates the pros of asking him how to do
shading properly against the cons of possibly
having to explain why he wants to know.

He's almost finished coloring in the red shield
when he feels *something* move behind him.
Tim has warned him about sitting with his back
to the door, but it's the *Tower* for god's sake,
and of all the dangers he's going to face as Kid
Flash, he figures a very small percentage of
them will be in his bedroom.

He still jumps when he turns his head and Tim
is right *there*, peering over his shoulder.
"Man, don't *do* that."

Tim makes a noncommittal noise and a quiet,
"Sorry," but he's not paying attention to Bart.
He's... looking at the drawing.

And... it's nothing to be *ashamed* of, Bart tells
himself.  It's just a drawing, and not a very
good one either, but Tim is looking at it so
intently it makes Bart blush anyway.  He looks
at his desk and twirls the pencil between his
fingers and swings his feet, and specifically
doesn't look at Tim.

A green gauntlet comes into his view anyway,
reaching past him.  Tim touches the paper,
stroking it a little, gloved fingertips tracing the
lightning bolt, and says, "Hm."

"It's nothing," Bart mutters, and *why* is his
face so hot?  "Just... I got bored in class."

"Hm," Tim says again.

"It's a tattoo.  I was thinking of, um. Getting."

That gets him an eyebrow quirk.

And for some reason Bart can't shut *up* because,
"I thought this time I'd get something more
meaningful.  Tattoos are supposed to *mean*
stuff.  Like the one Raven got really *fit* her,
symbolically.  And I started thinking about symbols
that mean something to me and the only ones I
could think of were, uh--"  Ours, he doesn't say,
and he tries to look at Tim, but Tim is *looking*
at him and his face is unreadable but it makes
the flush *shoot* to Bart's cheeks.

"Tattoos don't last on you."  There's a question
that Tim isn't asking, and Bart doesn't know if it's
because Tim wants Bart to tell him, or if he's just
reminding Bart that yes, he's an idiot.

Only, Tim hasn't treated him like he was Impulse
since he read the library.  So.

"I know."  Bart fidgets some more.  "But I'd like to
get it done anyway, just 'cause.  Y'know, *I'd*
know it had been there."

And he doesn't look up, but he can feel Tim thinking
hard and looking at him.  When Tim thinks, there's
a very obvious *weight* in the room, like Tim needs
to use up all the oxygen to figure out whatever he's
pondering and everyone can breathe again when
he's done.

He doesn't ponder whatever it was long, though,
because Tim is suddenly gone in a flutter of cape.

Bart exhales slowly and is thinking about all the
ways he can avoid his math homework some more
(he still hasn't started work on the miniature roller
coaster, or the upgrades of his computer back
home, or --) when Tim reappears, holding a box of
permanent markers from Gar's stash of art
supplies.  Bart swivels his chair around and tries
to read whatever Tim's expression is supposed to
mean. And fails.

"What're those for?"

Tim actually *shifts* slightly from foot to foot
before pulling out a handful of pens.  "We could
see how it would look."

Bart looks at the pens, looks at Tim, and clues in
*hard*.  "Oh. *Oh*. You'd... but it'll wash *off*."

"Eventually." Tim gives him a tiny smile. "But I
can always draw it again, if you want me to."

"Really?"

Tim *looks* at him and nods.

And one of the *good* things about the speed is
that he can hug anyone he wants to before they
can do anything about it.

Tim shakes his head a little and pulls up the
other chair.  "Where do you want it?"

Bart doesn't have to think about that at all, just
whips off his shirt and presents his shoulder.
There's no *way* he could have Tim drawing on
him and not watch.

And Tim is exactly as good at this as Bart thought
he'd be, because he uses three shades of red just
on the shield lines.  He cups Bart's bicep in one
hand, pauses, makes Bart turn in the seat until
their knees are just touching and the light falls
more fully on Bart's shoulder, and draws slowly,
glancing occasionally at Bart's sketch for guidance
and nothing else.

It's pretty fascinating to watch, even beyond what
he'd *thought* it would be like. It isn't that Tim
ever *doesn't* apply that kind of obsessive,
perfect focus -- to anything -- it's just...

It's just really kind of compelling when that focus
is on *him*. Enough that he doesn't actually notice
Kon leaning in the doorway until he's pretty sure
that Kon has been there for a while.  His arms are
folded across his chest and he's looking vaguely
curious and definitely amused.  But when Tim
silently holds up the sketch so Kon can see what
he's doing, Kon's expression just...

It just *softens*, and he's obviously recognized the
design, and the blush creeps back into Bart's
cheeks.  And then he's blushing even *more*,
because Kon shifts a little, and he's *looking* at
them, and the expression on his face *now* is
this weird mix of touched, amused, and... turned
on. And he doesn't look like he has any intention
of *leaving* the doorway.

Bart swallows and fidgets -- a *little* -- and Tim
clutches his arm more tightly. "Hold still."

Bart wants to point out that Kon is sort of
*leering* at them, but he also doesn't want to
do anything that might break Tim's concentration.
So he doesn't, which kind of means the full of
effect of Kon's really, seriously *warm* gaze is
on him. He occasionally looks Bart up and down
and then *moves*, like maybe his jeans are
uncomfortable.

And Tim doesn't *seem* to notice it, but after
a while he pauses, mid-bolt, and says, "If you
make me mess this up, Kon, I will hurt you."

And Bart... doesn't really want to think about *that*,
because it makes him think about how tight his
own jeans are getting.  It makes Bart need to
*move*, but he can't with Tim drawing on his arm.
It's getting to be a kind of torture, too, with the
tip of the pens tracing delicately along his arm,
long lines and little flicks to get the shading right,
and Bart needs to move *soon*.

Tim can tell. He squeezes Bart's bicep, strokes
with his thumb. "I'll be done soon."

"I need..." Bart bites his lip. "I need to run a few
hundred laps around the building. Can we finish
this in a minute?"

Tim's brow furrows as he draws. "I'm not at a
good stopping point. Right now it looks like
you've got magic marker on your arm."

Bart blinks. "I *do* have magic marker on my
arm."

"It won't look that way when I'm done." Tim
*looks* at Bart, serious and steady with just the
smallest hint of a smile at the corner of his
mouth. Just right *there*, like Kon's right over
*there*, and Bart isn't sure what look is on his
face, but it makes Tim stroke his arm again.

And he can see Kon shifting again out of the
corner of his eye.

"Um -- I think --"

"*Soon*," Tim says, like he's willing Bart to believe
it, and Bart grabs Tim's knee without thinking and
squeezes. He hears Kon's breathing get a little
rough.  He hadn't realized he was paying *attention*
to Kon's breathing.

"Okay.  I mean.  Okay."  Bart tries to sit still and think
about anything besides the way Kon is looking at
them, or the way that Tim totally doesn't seem to
mind that Bart hasn't let go of his knee.  He thinks,
maybe, some of the moving he needs to do he can
do like *this*. Just rub Tim's knee -- he's already
turned enough that it isn't *too* awkward --  and
maybe his thigh.

Bart doesn't let his hand go too far up Tim's leg,
because... well, *because*, and Kon is standing
right *there*.  But he does move his hand up and
down some, and the moving does calm him down
a little, until Kon makes this *noise* and no, Bart
will *not* look at him.  He squeezes his eyes shut
hard, once, and looks at the progress Tim is
making on his arm.

And it... it looks *good*. Of course Tim could
make it look good, because he's *Tim*, but when
Bart twists his head enough, he can see how the
upper left corner doesn't look like marker at all.

"Oh. Tim, it's so *cool*."

He looks up to see the twitchy little smile, and
it's *there*, but Tim's face is also a little flushed
below the mask. And...

His fingers keep skating higher and higher -- they've
*been* skating higher and higher -- on Tim's thigh,
even though he doesn't really mean to, even though
he *knows* he probably shouldn't.  Tim's tights are
smooth and his thigh is hard beneath the fabric.
Not as warm as Bart is, and even though he knows
it has more to do with the fact that Tim isn't a
speedster than anything else, it makes him rub a
little harder. Makes him *need* to.

Technically, he probably *does* need to rub harder
because Tim wears body armor, and it's probably
hard to feel a light touch through it.  It's the reason
that Vic can give Tim a good solid clap on the
shoulder and not break every bone in his arm.

It makes it *okay* to rub harder.

Tim doesn't seem to notice it -- except maybe the skin
beneath his mask is a *little* pinker -- but Tim just
frowns at the markers like he's debating which shade
to use next.

"God," Kon says from the doorway, and Bart flinches,
and flinches again, because Tim is holding the gold
marker steady a full inch away from Bart's skin and
glaring, a little.

"Kon," Tim says, and it's the I-can-*hurt*-you voice,
and Bart squeezes Tim's thigh reflexively.

"Dude, I *know*, but --"

"Let me *finish*."

Kon mutters something that sounds like, "Finish right
*here*," and it feels really *good* to squeeze Tim's
thigh.

Even though Bart can't *look* at either of them right
now, because Kon's voice sounds almost pained, and
Tim is *blushing*.  Bart's hand is really pretty high
up Tim's thigh and he thinks he should probably do
something about that. All he *does* manage is to
close his eyes and loosen his death grip on Tim's
leg.

He's almost sure that was the right choice, but Kon
*sighs*, and Tim... moves.

A little, and so little that it doesn't seem like
anything.  There's nowhere near enough data for
Bart to think "he doesn't want me to stop" as
opposed to "he's just shifting a little," but he
does. He doesn't just think it, he *knows* it.

And then he really knows it, because tightening
his grip again by reflex makes Tim sigh in a
completely different way than Kon did. And Kon
says,

"God, yeah --"

And Tim says, "Kon," in that dangerous voice that's
maybe *not* about hurting Kon as much as...

Bart blinks. They're about to have sex. They're
really... "Are we *hitting* on each other? I just want
to be sure."

Bart thinks he can *hear* Kon blink, and Tim takes
a really *careful* breath, and it's enough for Bart to
realize that yeah, they *are*, and maybe they aren't
quite sure how they feel about that.  Bart isn't quite
sure how he feels about it either, except... it feels
really *good* and Tim's leg is hard beneath his
hand and Kon is *watching* them.  It doesn't take
much of anything for Bart to slide his hand over
the tiny bit to stop touching Tim's leg and start
touching *Tim*, and he's hard there, too.

Okay, so Tim is wearing armor there, but Bart can
still feel how much hotter he is behind it.

"Bart..." Tim's voice is hesitant, and he *never*
sounds hesitant, and that's just.  "Oh," he says
when Bart squeezes, only it's less a word than a
*moan*, and he's just holding the red marker in
the air like he can't remember what he was doing
with it.

"Jesus, Bart."  Kon's voice isn't hesitant at all.  It's
low and throaty and when Bart looks at *him*
again, he's cupping himself through his jeans and
that would be the best idea *ever* if Bart actually
had a free hand.

There's no way he's moving the one he's got on
Tim, who looks *exactly* like someone who has
their eyes closed behind a mask.

He *could* have a free hand if he could get Tim
to let go of his arm.  Bart has his doubts about the
likelihood of that happening, though, because the
first time Bart gives Tim a solid rub with the heel of
his hand, Tim's grip on Bart's bicep tightens almost
painfully.  It still doesn't feel as tight as Tim's mouth
*looks*.

"Tim," Bart says. "Put the marker down."

Tim breathes sharply and sort of comes back into
himself, and Bart guesses that his eyes are open
again, because Tim turns towards Kon. Who's still
leaning in the doorway and rubbing himself through
his jeans.

And Tim says, "Oh," and very carefully sets the pen
aside.

"Yeah," Kon says, and reaches back to slam the door
closed without looking away from him.  From
*them*.

Tim's legs are... God, spread. Not too wide apart, but
still wider than they have to be.  His mouth is open,
and he's not making any sound, but he's *breathing*
in a really, deep, noticeable way.  A part of Bart's
mind is cataloguing stress/arousal reactions he
remembers from Full Catastrophe Living, and that's
probably what distracts him enough that he jumps
at the feel of Kon's hand in his hair.

Because Kon is suddenly right *there*.  "God, I'd
forgotten how *soft* your hair is, Bart..."

And Tim is *moving* into his hand.  Sharp, subtle
little pushes with his hips like he wants --

Bart hears himself moan and swallows and tries to
say *something*, but Kon bends down and kisses
him, deep and wet, and Bart twitches, *flexes*, he
can't help it, and *Tim* moans.

Which makes Bart *have* to  squeeze Tim gently
through the armor, have to rub Tim there while
Kon is doing... really inventive things with his
tongue along the edges of Bart's teeth.  Kon
tightens his fist in Bart's hair, pulling his head back
and exposing his throat. Bart turns his face away
and Kon *dives* in, biting and sucking that
sensitive pulse-point in his neck.

He can see Tim this way, see the flush creeping all
the way into Tim's hairline and his bottom lip
looking bitten and wet.  It doesn't seem fair.  *He
should be the one to make Tim's mouth look like
that.  Tim still has Bart's bicep in one hand, and
one solid tug drags Tim close enough to kiss.

Tim tastes like Vic's coffee and he kisses like he
was never hesitant about anything at all, like it
was some kind of marker-fume-induced
hallucination on Bart's part.   He *takes* Bart's
mouth and covers Bart's hand with his own, and
his gauntlet is cool and rough and Bart isn't sure
which one of them is making him moan.

He figures it out when Kon *bites* him, but knowing
doesn't actually help anything, because -- "More, I
want more --"

"Yes, *fuck*, Bart," Kon says, and shoves his hand
between Bart's legs.  Tim *squeezes* his hand,
forcing Bart to rub him harder and bites Bart's lip,
and says,

"Yes."

Bart has to close his eyes and *moan*, because he
wants this and *they* want this, and his brain is
going to *break*.  Just shatter into a thousand
useless little bits that can't register anything except
*hot* and *yes*, and then break some more
because Kon is rubbing down his whole length
through his pants and squeezing his balls.

And because Tim is dragging Bart's hand *inside*
his tights. His skin is soft and warm, and Bart can
feel wetness because Tim is leaking and this is going to
drive Bart *insane*.

"Oh God, Bart, you're..." Kon groans and squeezes him
hard, too hard or not hard enough, he can't *tell*.

"Kon --"  He has no idea what he was going to say,
because there's a clatter and when he opens his eyes
Gar's markers are scattered all over the floor and Tim
has his head thrown back.

"Fuck, *look* at him," Kon says, and he does, he
can't *not* do it, just like he can't stop working his
hips for Kon.

Bart shudders.  "Oh, he's so sexy like this, I --" and
the rest comes out on a *yelp*, because Kon bites
his nipple hard and *growls* against his chest
before shoving his free hand back into Bart's hair
and making him look at *him* again.

"Tell me. How he feels."

Bart looks at Tim again, he *has* to.  Tim's cheeks
are flushed so dark it looks almost *dangerous*,
and he's gasping, over and over, in the *exact*
same rhythm that Bart's using on his dick.

"He's... his skin is so soft, and he's so *hard*--"

Kon squeezes him again.  "Harder than you?"

"I don't know," Bart gasps, "but he's *wet*, and..."
A really good thought runs through his mind, and
he doesn't want to let go of Tim, but... itís a really
*good* idea.  He pulls his hand out of Tim's tights
and presses his wet fingers into Kon's mouth. "See?"

He can hear Tim *whimpering*, and that's so
incredible it should probably be *illegal*, but it's
nothing to the way Kon's eyes widen in shock for
just a second before he takes his hand out of Bart's
hair and grabs Bart's wrist in an iron grip and
shoves Bart's fingers *deep* into his own mouth.

"Oh God Kon that's so hot I can't --"

Keep *talking*, because Tim grabs Bart's chin and
kisses him again, and he'd only *thought* the first
kiss was amazing, because this one is hard and
hungry, almost brutal.  Tim's mouth is hard and
Kon's mouth is wet and hot around his fingers and
Kon's still *squeezing* his cock and Bart screams
into Tim's mouth and comes, white flare behind
his eyes and Tim's tongue stabbing him, stroking
him --

"*Fuck* yeah," and Kon's still holding Bart's fingers
close to his own mouth, close enough that Bart can
feel his breath.  Tim pulls back slowly, eyes
obviously narrow even though he has the mask
on.

Tim turns and looks down and says, "Kon," in that
do-this-now voice, and Bart's about to ask, but
then he's on the floor, on his *back*, and he
doesn't have any questions at all.

He just watches Kon yanking his own jeans open
-- *ripping* them open -- and shoving them off
with his shorts.  He doesn't even take his t-shirt off
before he's braced on the floor over Bart, leaning
in and swallowing all the noises Bart's still making.

Blocking his *view*, but Bart can hear Tim
moving, fabric rustling and the metallic clank of
the belt hitting the floor.  Kon works Bart's pants
open one-handed, but then there's fumbling and
that's Tim dragging them down his hips, and
Tim's hands... Tim's hands are *bare* and that
means that Tim is probably *naked* and Bart
can't *see* and he *needs* to.

He grabs Kon's shoulders and *pushes*, and Kon
grunts into his mouth before breaking the kiss.
"What? Are you --"  But then he follows where
Bart's looking. "Oh, *fuck*."

Tim's stripped down to nothing but the *mask*,
kneeling and leaning in, and then Kon grabs him
and Tim's right next to him.  And naked.  And
smiling this tiny smile at Bart and saying, "Hi."

And then he looks back up at Kon and raises an
eyebrow and Bart looks, too, and... yeah. Kon
looks like --

"You can't actually straddle both of us at once,
Kon."

Kon plants one hand on Tim's abdomen and the
other on Bart's and pushes, just a little. And smirks,
and strokes his way up. "No?"

"You're not that flexible," Tim says, and Bart snorts
because it's true, but it's absolutely not important
when considered with the fact that Tim's right there
and Bart doesn't have his hands on him yet.

Which is something he needs to fix, like now. It's
easy enough to wrap a hand around Kon, and the
angle is a little awkward, but he can get a grip on
Tim, too, and then it's like the easiest, best thing
ever to make them both gasp at the same time.  If
he wasn't flat on his back with a naked Tim pressed
against him, Bart would do a victory dance.

Definitely needs to do a victory dance when Tim
gasps and bucks into Bart's fist.

And possibly the victory *watusi* when Kon curses
and shoves one hand into Tim's hair and Tim
groans and Kon kisses *him*, deep and wet and
messy and *fast*.  It's getting harder for Bart to
keep rhythm on their cocks because Kon grunts
into his mouth on every upstroke and Tim *licks*
him on every downstroke and he can't keep track
of what his hands are supposed to be doing.

He's *hard* again, and he absolutely can't stop, he
*won't*, not even when Tim wraps his hard,
sweaty hand around Bart's dick and says, "Bart,"
so softly.

Bart can't remember ever feeling Tim's bare hand
touching him, and certainly never like *this*.  Rough
calluses and perfect rhythm, the same rhythm *he's*
using, and he has to tighten his grip and pump them
harder.  Tim matches that rhythm, too, and Kon
thrusts into his hand and groans into his mouth.

Bart thumbs the slit and plays experimentally with
the edge of Kon's foreskin.  He knows he's doing
something right when Kon buries his face into Bart's
neck and whimpers, "Oh shit, oh yeah, fuck..." and
that just makes Bart *buck* into Tim's hand.

"Please," he whispers.  He doesn't know really what
he's asking for, just that he wants this and he wants
*more*, even though he doesn't know how this
could get better.

"Yes," Tim breathes in his ear, and speeds his hand
on Bart's cock.

Bart helplessly matches the rhythm, and Kon shudders
and *fucks* his hand and says,

"Yes," strangled and low, and Bart feels a hot splash
on his hip.

He slows his hand on Kon, leaves it wrapped loosely
around him and likes the way the light touch makes
Kon shudder all over.  But Tim's biting little marks
on Bart's shoulder and bucking into his fist.  His face
is flushed around the mask and Tim has never
looked so... so.  He hears himself moaning and he
has to jack Tim faster.

And Kon's making soft, satisfied noises, snugged up
against Bart's side with a leg thrown over Bart's own.
And then Kon bites his nipple hard enough to make
Bart yelp, before nibbling and sucking and running
his free hand down Bart's stomach, bumping against
Tim's --

And Tim's panting, every other breath coming out on
a growl and Kon slides his hand lower, petting and
playing with his balls, and oh *god*, Bart loves that.
He bites his lip and arches and *squeezes* Tim's
cock.

"Bart," Tim's voice sounds almost *pained*. "Yes --"

And Bart can't make words anymore, just moans
and gasps as he pumps into the hands playing with
him, making him need, making him come, and Tim's
*already* coming in his fist and the hands on his
cock and balls won't stop and he never, ever wants
them to.

Not even when he screams and curls halfway off
the floor when *he* comes.  He wants to hold them
both *here* so they can't leave him, but he can't
even *see*.  He's pretty sure it's Kon who catches
his head so he doesn't get a concussion when he
falls back on the floor, but he can't really tell. Or
care.

His eyes aren't working, but he can feel Tim
moving, and he wants to protest, but Tim moves
*over* him, so Bart guesses that's okay. And then
Tim kisses his stomach and his mouth is warm
and *wet*, and that's *very* okay.

"Bart," Kon's voice is hoarse. "You have to see
this."

He manages to get one eye open, and then he has
to curl himself up again and brace himself on his
elbows and *look*, because Tim's *licking* at the
pool of Kon's come on his hip. "Tim..."

Tim sits back on his knees, lifting Bart's sticky
hand and *looking* at him.  Not smiling, but... his
tongue is pink and shaped like a blade and darting
over Bart's fingers, and Bart has no *idea* what he
was going to say.

And then Tim gives Bart's hand a final squeezes and
raises his own hand and licks *that* clean.

Kon looks about as incoherent at Bart feels.  "Okay,
either that's insanely hot or we're all perverts."

"Both," Bart announces. Tim's eyes just narrow
behind the mask, and Bart's never seen anyone who
could look *that* smug without so much as a
mouth twitch.

But then he just looks *hot* again, because Kon is
kissing him hard, almost *angrily*, cupping Tim's
face right up until Tim knocks his hand away and
turns them.  Just enough that Bart can see them
both clearly, and see that Kon is *licking* Tim's
mouth.  And that *had* to be on purpose, but that
isn't even the hottest thing.

"Kon, can you taste us?  All of us --"

Kon groans and winces like he's *hurt*, reaching
out blindly until Bart catches his hand, and then
*pulling* Bart up onto his knees and kissing him,
too. Trying to kiss both of them at the same
time, and it's clumsy and *wet* and it all hits in a
crazy endless series of images:  the curled-up
corner of Tim's mouth and the swipe of Kon's
tongue over it, and over his *own* mouth, and
Tim's swollen lips and Kon's teeth.  Bart thinks
he wants to spend at least a year of subjective
time doing *just* this, until they get it right, or
at least until all of them come again.

Which could be sooner than he would've thought,
because Bart's dick twitches *hard* when Kon's
thigh brushes against it, and Bart groans and
clutches at both of them.

Kon pulls off slightly and glances down. "Already?"

"Sorry."

"Not *even*," he says and shoves Bart *right*
back down.

"Hey -- *oh* --"

Kon's mouth had felt incredible on just his
*fingers* so Bart should've *known* Kon would
give head like he'd given a lot of thought to
technique.  And he thinks maybe he's going to spend
a lot of time thinking about Kon thinking about
blowjob technique, but mostly he isn't so much
thinking as gasping, because Kon hums around his
cock like it's the best treat ever.  And Tim's staring
down at both of them with a completely unreadable
look on his face --

Which is suddenly *perfectly* readable, because
Tim pushes Kon off and sucks Bart into his *own*
mouth.

Kon says, "When did you get so *oral*, dude? Next
time *share* that information."

Yeah, Bart tries to say, but it comes out, "nnyargh,"
when Tim *swallows* around him.  And then all
the words are gone *again*, because Kon is sucking
on two of his own fingers.  He gives Bart a devious
look before pulling them out wetly and lowering
them to Tim's ass, which is sticking up
unceremoniously in the air.

And Tim groans around his cock, and Bart can tell
Tim's eyes are closed behind the mask.  He can't
see everything Kon is doing, just the movement of
his shoulder hinting that he's inside Tim, they
*both* are, and that's... too hot for human
comprehension.  Bart reaches down and strokes
Tim's face with his fingertips.

"Tim, you -- are you okay? You feel..."  Hot.
Sweaty-soft and *hot* around his cock.  "God, you
feel *really* good..."

Tim makes a low sound that Bart interprets as an
affirmative with the one percent of his brain that
*isn't* devoted to melting.  Kon lets out a low
chuckle and bends down, and now Bart can't see
him, but he can hear the wet sound of Kon...
licking.  Licking Tim *there*, maybe around his
own fingers, and Tim whimpers and Bart groans
and pulses pre-come into Tim's mouth.

Tim whimpers and sucks him harder, hips moving
with Kon's fingers and tongue, and suddenly Bart's
*positive* Tim's using the same rhythm on his cock
that Kon is using on Tim's ass, and Bart can't... it's
too much to *look* at Tim doing this to him.  Bart
closes his eyes and lets his head fall back on the
floor.

Rocks up into Tim's mouth and tries to catch his
breath, think, *something*, but Tim pushes a finger
*in*.  Bart yelps and digs his fingers into Tim's hair,
but Tim just moves his finger in and out, hot and
*strange*, and all Bart can do is spread his legs
*wider*.

"Please, oh please yes..."

But Tim moans and pulls off and *stops*. Bart opens
his eyes and raises his head to see Kon kneeling up
again, staring down at Tim and thrusting his fingers
*hard* into Tim's ass, and he must be... he's got to
be hitting Tim *there*, because Bart's sure Tim's
eyes are squeezed shut and he's *moving* with
each sharp twist of Kon's hand.

Tim is *beautiful* like this.

Looking at him makes Bart whimper and flex around
Tim's still finger inside him, but Tim is *completely*
distracted by what Kon is doing to him, gasping for
breath with Bart's dick painting his cheek with
pre-come every time he bumps against it.

"Tim," Bart moans, "please don't stop, please..."

He hears a wet sound and Kon moves over Tim,
pressing against his back.  Bart sees the flex of his
shoulder -- he's still moving inside Tim -- but he
leans in to whisper in Tim's ear.

"Don't stop, Tim.  Suck him, he wants you to so
*much*--"

And Kon *shoves* his fingers deep, Bart can tell
because Tim lets out this inhuman yell and
shudders, head dropping forward.  He pants, letting
his tongue slide out of his mouth, and licks a stripe
up Bart's shaft.  He licks and mouths it, sucking
drops of pre-come off the head, before inhaling
sharply and taking Bart all the way in his mouth.
And Bart can't even *blink*, because Tim's fucking
his own mouth on Bart, *using* him and working his
finger inside him and moaning on every breath.

Kon is fucking Tim and Tim is fucking Bart, and all
Bart can think is that he wants *more*.

"Oh god, oh Tim, fuck me, fuck me *please* --"

Which wasn't even *remotely* like 'stop,' but Tim
does it *anyway*, and Bart opens his eyes to find
Tim braced over him and staring.  Kon is, too,
pressed up tight to Tim's back looking over his
shoulder, looking *hungry* and biting little nips
along the side of Tim's throat.  And Tim's mouth
is swollen and red and he's tilting his head a little
and Kon's stroking Tim's hips and Bart --

Forces himself to take a breath, and then waves
toward his bed. "There's stuff.  In the nightstand."

Kon gets it, moving fast enough to make Tim rock
a little.  And then he drops back down to his knees,
next to Tim this time.  He pours slick into his palm
and slides it down Tim's shaft, jacking him slow.
Tim groans, mouth falling open, and he doesn't look
like he'll last much longer, not with Kon rubbing the
head like that, and Bart almost wants to *watch* it,
and listen, too, because of the wet sounds and Tim's
gasps and the low, rough mutter of Kon's voice.

But then he starts to pay *attention* to the words --

" -- want to watch you fuck him.  I bet he's tight.
Was he tight on your fingers?"  Kon lets go of
Tim's dick, pours more lube on his fingers and
presses them against Bart's hole.  "Mmm, yeah.  I
want to see his face when you make him come --"

And he definitely wants to do more than *watch*.
"Kon, I --"

"Yeah, Bart, I got you.  Just..."

"*Oh* --"  Kon's fingers are *bigger* than Tim's,
which Bart guesses is a good thing because they're
working him open.  Bart tries to tilt his hips up, to
open himself for this, but Kon *crooks* and Bart
flexes hard.

And watches Tim's mouth open on another gasp
and Kon's eyes get *narrow*.

"Oh god, please, I --"  Stop, he tries to say,
because this is going to make him come *now*,
but Tim grabs Kon's wrist and eases his fingers
out.

"I think he's ready."

Kon grins and kisses Tim.  Bart tries to catch his
breath but suddenly can't, because Tim has the
lube and he's slicking Kon's cock.

And it *hits* Bart, and -- God.  They're... all
*three* of them.

He thinks it's definitely less weird than it ought
to be, because it really doesn't feel strange at
*all*.  Like if it was going to happen, ever, it
was going to happen this way, and the rightness
of it pushes away any other thoughts in Bart's
head.

Until Tim pushes inside him, stretching him open,
and he wasn't expecting the burn, so he just pets
Tim's chest and tries to keep breathing.  He trails
his fingers along the scars, making it slow for the
one marring Tim's neck.  He's seen it a handful
of times before this, peeking out from under the
collar of Tim's cape, and he's never been sure
if he wanted to hide it again or touch it.

"Bart...".

Or lick it.  He *really* wants to lick it, because it's
pale against the flush of Tim's skin, and Tim's *inside*
him, all the way.

Tim settles and pants and doesn't move.  It gives Bart
a moment to get used to it, but then he watches Tim's
face twist and Kon's hands sliding around his chest.
Bart sees Kon pressing his cheek against Tim's
shoulder as he moves, pushing in to *Tim*, and for
a brief moment Tim's arms shake so badly Bart is
afraid he'll collapse.

He grabs Tim's biceps and holds him steady.  Tim
gives him a grateful look right before Kon
*really* moves, which makes Tim wince and groan.
His arms shudder in Bart's grasp and he gasps
again.

"Bart, I can't do this -- too much, I can't--"

"Don't stop -- just --"

Kon groans, and he must just *slam* in, because
Tim slams into *him* and cries out, and Bart can
see Kon's hands sliding around Tim's chest,
stroking and petting and *clutching*.  Tim's arms
are braced and *shaking* and Tim says, "Can't --
I can't --"

Kon gasps, "You *can*, oh I never -- never fucking
*thought* --"

And then something *rolls* over Bartís skin.  Moving
with him and every time Kon moves Bart can feel
his aura caressing him everywhere.  Down his arms
and over his cock and stroking his thighs,
*touching* him.  Bart bites his lip, and opens his
eyes just in time to see Tim feel it, too.

"*Oh*." And Tim's voice... it's the closest thing to
a plea Bart has ever heard come out of him.
"*Kon*."

Kon just pets Tim's chest and whispers, "I've got
you -- got you both, I won't -- oh *Jesus*--"

Bart bucks up helplessly, and does it again, and
keeps doing it because there's too much weight
on him for him to be able to arch up as much as
he *wants* to.  It makes Tim gasp, makes
him choke on a sharp noise, and then he drops
to his elbows and *sobs* against Bart's throat.

Bart has to wrap his arms around him, around
*them*.  One hand in Tim's hair and one hand
snaking up Kon's strong arm.  Kon laces his
fingers with Bart's own, presses their hands on
Tim's hip, and *thrusts*. Bart tilts his head back
and lets them fuck all the noise out of his throat,
moves into it as much as he can and *holds on*.

Please, he wants to say.  Please I love you love
you both love what you do to me please yes -- but
he can't get his voice to work.  All that comes out
is one long moan after another until he can't even
make that much noise, only harsh gasps into
Tim's hair.

Kon's eyes are closed, head tilted back and shoving
in, and Tim's hand fumbles down Bart's side.
He finds Bart's hip and digs in, clutching and lifting
a little, like he's trying to help Bart get *more*.

Like *he* wants more, and Bart can't keep his eyes
open anymore, he can't *watch*, because it's too
hot, and he doesn't want to come again yet, he
doesn't --

"*Please*," Tim says, an explosion of breath and
sound against his throat, and Bart vibrates
helplessly and Kon groans out,

"*Fuck* --"

And Tim -- Bart can *feel* it.  Tim coming
*inside* him and whimpering, over and over, Kon's
aura raking over and off of them both, and Bart
bucks so hard he moves both of them and spills all
over their stomachs.

Tim clings to Bart, fingers digging into his hip and
his hair like he can't let go, even though the rest
of Tim's body is just *slumped* on top of his.
Kon has somehow managed to stay mostly
upright, and Bart feels Tim's tiny whimper against
his throat when Kon pulls out.

Kon eases down shakily next to them and tosses an
arm across Tim's back.  "You okay?"

Tim squeezes Bart's hip hard for a long moment
before rolling to Bart's other side.  Bart has to
twist a little to see his face, but it's worth it.  Tim
smiles like he's stoned on something, or possibly
like those times when Vic lets Tim play with his
weapons.

"I think that's a 'yes,'" Bart says, and Kon snickers
and rubs his stomach, dipping his fingers in the
come on Bart's stomach and licking.  Bart watches
Kon close his eyes and make "mmm" sounds
around his finger.

"He's tasty," Kon comments, and leans in and
licks the rest off Bart's stomach.  It makes Bart
whimper and clutch at Kon's hair.  He can't... he's
come three times already and he could probably
go more because his dick is twitching *again*,
but it's starting to hurt.

"Tim," Bart says, and it *really* sounds like a
whine, "make him *stop*."

"Mm.  All right."  And Tim gets a grip on Kon's
short hair and *yanks*.

"Ow."

"That didn't hurt you."

Kon scowls. "It's the *principle* of the... thing."
He sounds so distracted that Bart looks at Tim,
who's...

Licking his lips.

Bart thinks about saying something about how Tim's
not really *helping*, but mostly he just watches
Kon kiss Tim again.  And watches Tim lick Kon's
mouth.

He props his head on his arm and *watches* them
and tries to ignore how his dick (and the rest of
him) is coming back to the Land of the Very
Interested.  Tries really *hard*... and gives up
entirely when Tim snakes a hand over Bart's chest
and pinches his nipple.

Bart whimpers, and Kon pulls out of the kiss with
a wet sound and stares down at Tim's fingers.
His *moving* fingers, because Tim isn't even
*looking* at him -- sucking slow and wet on
Kon's neck and Bart knows how that *feels* --
and alternately twisting his nipple and rubbing it
*hard* with the pad of his thumb.

Kon bites his lip and shoves his hand back into
Tim's hair, holding Tim's head in place and
closing his eyes for a long moment before
opening them again and *fixing* them on Bart.
"You like that? What Tim's doing?"

Bart sucks in a breath. "Yeah. I -- hurts. In a
good way."

Kon reaches down and gives an experimental twist
to Bart's other nipple. Gentler than Bart was
expecting, actually, but enough to make him hiss
in a breath and arch off the floor a little.

Kon smiles, eyes half-lidded and face slightly
turned towards whatever Tim is doing to his
neck.  Bart sighs and puts his hands over theirs,
holding them against his chest.

They'll all pass out eventually.

~~~

Bart wakes up first.  Even through the closed blinds,
he can tell the sun is long gone.  He has a skewed
time sense, but his best guess is it's around ten.
He twists to look at the clock on the nightstand.

One a.m.  Damn.  He hopes Tim won't be cranky
because he slept through his usual patrol of the
grounds.  He hopes *they* didn't sleep through
any crises or anything.  Though probably one of
the others would've come to get them, and he's
just not going to think about those images ever
again.

He turns over, instead, and Tim doesn't *look*
particularly cranky.  He's still asleep, breathing
evenly.  He looks... really young, despite the
mask and scars.

Kon looks equally young with his head resting
on Tim's chest.  Bart wonders how he can sleep
that way. Tim's heartbeat must be deafening
pressed into his ear like that.

Still, Bart thinks, rolling back against Tim's
other side, he's really comfortable.  Kon gets
too hot to sleep against for long, but Tim is
just right.  Bart thinks fleetingly of golden-haired
girls and porridge, and wonders if his own
heightened body temperature is why he's so
uncomfortable sleeping next to Kon.  Wonders
if he could lower his enough so that they could
sleep with Kon in the middle.

Something else to research, when he has time.
Bart eases out of the bed and reaches for his
shorts.

He's still a little surprised that they'd made it
*into* the bed.  Three of them were a tight fit,
forcing them to snuggle in a tangle of arms and
legs.  He tries to think of a convincing excuse
for Vic and Kory to get one of them a larger bed.
Kon could probably request it.  He's a big guy,
takes up a lot of room, and --

Bart thinks he's probably jumping the gun.

Still.  He fingers a tuft of Tim's hair, which is a
spiky dark mess over the pillow.  Which is going
to *smell* like Tim for the rest of the weekend.

Like all of them.

Tim makes a small waking-up-now noise and
Bart snatches his hand away again.  Probably Tim
would be awake *already*, if they hadn't all...

He shakes himself a little, drags the sheet up
over them, and slips out the door.

He showers, eats, and zips back to his room to
put on his uniform.  Tim and Kon haven't even
*moved*.  He can't tell if Tim is still really
asleep or just pretending behind the eye shields,
but Kon is snoring.  He'll probably be like that
until morning.  Kon sleeps the most of any of
them.

Bart zips down to the kitchen and makes a quick
stop at the laundry room.  He comes back this
time with a bowl of fruit, a bag of cookies, a
six-pack of Zesti, protein bars, and clean towels.
He arranges the food on the nightstand and the
towels on his desk, in case they wake up while
he's gone.  He hopes they don't.

Bart reads the papers and does a quick patrol of
San Francisco.  He steals four illegal handguns
and returns three snatched purses before
zipping back across the Bay.

This time when he gets back to his room, he
finds Tim sitting up in bed, eating a peach and
petting Kon's hair.

Kon's got his head and Tim's lap and --

"Fi' more minutes."

-- is still passed out.

Bart watches Kon snuggle against Tim's thigh, and
then looks back up at Tim.

"You're pinned."

"Looks that way."

Bart zips and changes back into his jeans, but doesn't
bother with a shirt.  He picks up the markers from
the floor and scoots in next to Kon, facing Tim. He
hands Tim the markers and offers his arm.  Tim quirks
his eyebrow.

"What?  You're not going anywhere for a while."

And that just makes Tim quirk his eyebrow *more*,
but he takes the pens anyway. He tilts Bart's arm
towards the light and opens a red marker.

Bart somehow managed to forget how *ticklish* it
is, at least at first, but Tim's hand is solid and hard
on his arm, holding it still even before he needs to.

"How much more do you have to do?" Bart asks.

"You didn't look?"

Six times. He only passed six mirrors. "Well, yeah,
but I'm not sure when *you'll* think you'll be
done."

"Hm." Tim cocks his head and eyes his work
critically. "Six minutes. Maybe nine."

Bart nods and thinks about things he can use to
distract himself. This is actually challenging --
coming up with things to think about that *won't*
make him want to move.

His mind flits back to mediation exercises Max
tried to teach him and Bart utterly failed to learn.
The only one he remembers well was an old, old
song in a language Bart doesn't know.  They had
sat by a campfire, a full moon and their singing
filling the sky, and the smoke had burned his eyes.

It's one of the few times he remembers Max looking
wistful, and one of the even fewer times Bart
remembers feeling really *calm*.  He really should
have thanked Max for that.

He misses Max in a way that he hasn't found any
words for yet, at least not the right ones.  Max had
*also* helped him find better ways to express
himself, and Bart had never found a way to tell him
how much he appreciated *that*.

Mostly because he *hadn't*, at the time.  Things
change.  Usually when he's not paying attention,
and then too fast even for him.  He wonders if Max
is happy.  If the Speed Force is even something
that... he doesn't know.

"Do you have any regrets, Tim?"

Tim actually *pauses*, and Bart wonders why,
but...

"Oh.  I mean.  Not about *this*.  Unless you do,
but -- "

"I don't," Tim says, and squeezes his arm. "About
this."

Bart takes a moment to swallow around the relief,
because he hadn't even *thought* about that,
and he's read so many things that talk about
Morning After Syndrome and anyway they don't
have that.  Or at least Tim doesn't, and he's
willing to bet that Kon wouldn't be snuggled
that well into Tim's lap if *he* did, so... "But
other things?"

Tim cocks his head again, but doesn't stop
working. "Yes," he says, and nothing else.

"You don't want to talk about it."

The corner of Tim's mouth twitches, once, and
he reaches for a marker the color of a new brick.
"Not... right now."

Bart nods slowly.

He's known Tim for a long time now, even for
people who *aren't* speedsters, and Tim is the
kind of person who *means* it when he says
things like "not right now," as opposed to other
people, who tend to just say it and hope you
never ask again.

"I was thinking of Max," he says.

"You must miss him a lot."

It's just six words, but they're words that no one
has really *said* to him, and... it's *not* just
the words.  It's the fact that Tim *knows* him,
and the fact that *Kon* knows him, and if Kon
were awake he'd probably say those words just
like that.

Because they know he *does*, as opposed to...

He isn't sure what the others think about him,
beyond "earned the name Impulse too well."
Sometimes he's afraid there *is* no beyond.

Tim squeezes his arm again.  "You okay?"

Bart blinks.  "I must've been quiet for a while."

"Nearly an entire minute."

Tim is joking -- he can *hear* it -- but, still. A
minute.  "You know why I wanted this, right?
The tattoo."

Tim caps the marker and pulls out a black one,
but doesn't start using it right away.  He's
*thinking* about it, and not quite looking at Bart
for what feels like forever.  And then he does,
and his smile is small, but it isn't twitchy at all.
"Yeah.  I do."

And then he starts to draw again, and, after a
while, moves his steadying hand down to stroke
Kon's hair, instead.

~end
 
 

.feedback.
.back.